#I’ve been sick and haven’t been able to hold down food or water for going on two days now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

my-written-world · 3 years ago

Text

Steamy

Pairing: Taron Egerton x Reader

Prompt: Taron does everything he can to make sure the reader is comfortable while sick.

Word count: 950

A/N: This is 100% self indulgent after the week I’ve had. I don’t need a man, but I wanted one to come comfort me and cuddle me. Not beta read. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy some soft, caring, wonderful Taron.

As he opened the door to your shared flat he heard the shower running, letting him know exactly where you were. His suitcases made a thud as he dropped them in the entry, rubbing his hands together he headed your way, ready to see you, hug you, hold you. After months away filming he couldn't wait to show you how much he missed you, needed you, while he was away.

When he creaked the bathroom door open slowly steam billowed out– a warm welcome indeed– but his smile faded when he didn’t see your form standing in the shower singing whatever song was stuck in your head at the moment. A loud, barking, cough breaks him out of his head. One. Two. Three times. Gasping for air. His eyes fall to you through the blurry glass, with your still body, head pointed up to the ceiling, eyes closed, sitting cross legged on the floor of the shower letting the steam permeate your lungs completely unaware that Taron was even there.

The slide of the shower door causes you to pathetically jump and gasp –as if you would be able to take on whoever was trying to rob or kidnap you had it not been Taron. The gasp causes you to fall into another one of many coughing fits. His head pokes in with a soft call of your name, the guilt for having failed at not startling you is all over his face. “Love.” his voice still soft, full of concern “Are you okay?”

He squats to your level not caring his shirt is getting wet from the stream of water when he tries to reach for you but you brush him off hanging your head again.

“Taron you’re not supposed to see me like this.” You whine pathetically, head lolling to the side opposite him with a muffled cough to eye him. Concern covers his face. This isn’t you, he thinks, this isn’t okay. Even when you’re sick you are still feisty with him. He can tell now what your plan was; to try and get better before he got home.

“Love, listen to me.” His voice falters as he hates seeing you like this. To be quite honest you hate him seeing you like this. “I’m going to run to the pharmacy and pick up everything I can. Call the doctor to make a house call…”

“Shhh.” You tell him, holding an index finger up. “I’ve already,” another interruption and Taron waits with bated breath for you to calm back down and continue. “Got medicine. This morning.”

“Okay” he sighs as his mind races on what he can do for you at this point. Just be here now. Hold you close and take care of you. He slides into the shower fully dressed and sits next to you. “Okay then. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

–

He stayed in the shower with you rubbing your back until you had decided you got everything out of your system that the hot steam allowed. Helping you up he wrapped you tightly in a towel and sat you on the edge of the bed to pick out a comfy outfit for you and peel his wet clothes off himself. If you were feeling normal you’d make a joke about how you didn’t think those pants could be tighter than when they were dry as he struggled to peel them off his thighs. Instead you chuckle to yourself which causes another fit. You pout pitifully until he walks out of your shared closet with a Christmas onesie on, yours draped over his shoulder. “Oh. Yes. Give me that warmth.” You reach for it and he obliges, helping you put it on. As he’s zipping up the front you ask in a soft voice “can we spend some time cuddled on the couch?”

“There is nothing he would rather do more but first I am going to make you tea and get some food in you.” You are thankful that he knows you well enough to know you haven’t forced yourself to eat anything of substance today.

As he does you lay across the couch searching out a cheesy movie to watch in the background while Taron fills you in on his past couple of days and gently drills you about your sickness. How long has it been? Why didn’t you say something before? He could have come home earlier don’t you know? Now you do, but it honestly wasn’t that bad until yesterday you assure him as he sets your travel mug of tea on the table in front of you, and a plate of nibbles. “A cup of tea from your T, baby.”

“Thank you.” You giggle at his pun and raise up to let him sit, laying your head in his lap. Grabbing a carrot you take a small bite as he pets your damp hair talking in his soft, soothing accent. You barely register what he’s saying — enjoying the lilt of his voice, the dark room only bathed in the light of the troubadour sign and the tv, and his thighs putting you at the perfect angle to stop the coughing for now.

Comfort. Peace. Home. Love. Care. All of those things wrap around you like a hug after filling your stomach and soothing your throat. You soon drift off to sleep, Taron’s thumb stroking circles in your skin softly.

Taron doesn’t dare move aside from kicking his feet up on the table in front of him and leaning his head back against the couch. His body will hate him in the morning but he doesn’t dare disturb you as you finally get some much needed deep sleep.

#taron egerton #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton x reader #writing #MWW writes #taron egerton fluff #taron egerton fanfiction #writes for taron

209 notes · View notes

moonxbabe · 3 years ago

Text

vinnie hacker smut - for the first time - part 4 -

hi readers - so this little story has come to an end, this is the last part of ‘for the first time’, thank you to the anon who requested it, I really enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoyed reading it :)

warning: smut 18+

part 1

part 2

part 3

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

2 weeks later

Vinnie had called, texted and sent flowers basically every day since the pool party trying to get any response back from you but you hadn't given in. You had been sulking in your room most days not having motivation to do much even though you had classes and work you needed to get done.

You deleted all social media since the incident because you couldn't handle seeing it all anymore. The hate, the comments, the updates. It made you sick with anxiety and self-hatred. It felt like nobody was on your side.

The worst part of it all was that you missed him. You missed him so much it hurt. His touch, his smell, his laugh. Everything about him. You felt like part of you was ripped away. Everyday you are tempted to respond back to his texts or answer his calls, but the thoughts linger and fear gets the best out of you.

You sigh re-reading the latest text he sent earlier that morning saying:

Vinnie: Good morning beautiful, I hope you have a good day. I think about you every moment. I miss you so much, I will never give up on us.

Your eyes fill with tears as you press the phone to your chest holding it tight. You lay back down in your bed holding back the tears because you're too tired of crying. You drift off into a nap.

You jump up awake hearing someone knock at your door. You grab your phone looking at the time reading 7:21pm realizing you slept through most of the day. You groan softly, getting up and looking around for a pair of shorts to slip on, not in the mood for guests.

Nailea showed up a few times to check in on you as well as your forever best friend even though you told them you were fine a million times. They knew the truth.

“Nai if it's you I already told you I’m fi--” you open the door to see Vinnie standing there. You look at him, speechless.

“Hi,” He says quietly, giving you a tight smile. He was hoping and praying you wouldn't slam the door in his face.

“Hi,” you looked at him unsure of what to do or say. You frowned a little, noticing he looked a little skinnier than the last time you saw him and it seemed he hadn't shaved in a while which was really unlike him. You crossed your arms over your chest uncomfortably glancing down realizing you were wearing his t-shirt before looking back at him.

“Can I come in? Please.” He studies you for a moment, his face soft and his words pleading.

“Why,” you say quietly.

“Because I miss you,” He hesitates, “and this is killing me,” He places his hand on the door frame waiting for a response. You sigh and move to the side letting him in, not saying a word.

“How have you been?” He breaks the lingering silence staring at you, you glance up at him before looking down once more.

“Fine,” you slightly shrug, rubbing your right arm with your left nervously.

“I’ve just been really worried, you haven't returned any of my calls or texts,” He sighed, taking a few small steps closer to you, you didn't move. “I know Nai’s been over so I asked her but she wouldn't say much,”

“I mean there's not much to say,” you said in a quiet tone.

“I know you're hurt and upset and hate me right now, but is there any way we could work this out? I can't just let go and forget y/n,” He swallowed hard holding back tears.

“I don't hate you,” you sigh “I could never hate you,”

“I'm glad to hear that,” He said calmly and took a few more steps now standing in front of you, you still looked down scared to make eye contact with him.

“Hey,” He used his fingers to lift your chin to look at him, your eyes falling into his. You held back tears as his honey colored eyes brought back all your shared memories.

“Please don't cry,” He slightly frowned as he could see your eyes tear up, you pressed your lips together and nodded.

“I'm sorry,” You said quietly, soaking in the moment.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He whispered, letting go of your chin and using the back of his index finger to gently brush your cheek, you closed your eyes for a moment letting him, enjoying the feeling. He presses his forehead against yours as your noses brush against one another.

“I’ve missed you too,” You whisper back as your eyes flutter open, a small smile appearing on his face. He gently places his hand on your waist pulling you a little closer.

“Can I hug you?” He says and you hesitate but nod. You wanted nothing more than to hug him, to feel him against you. He pulls you in, hugging you tightly as you hug him back resting your head on his chest.

“These two weeks have been the worst two weeks of my life,” He says quietly, not letting you go. You slightly smile to yourself at his words because you felt the same way.

“Vin,” you say after a few moments of silence.

“Hm?” He pulls away a little to look at you.

“This doesn't mean we can just go back to how things were,” you said as he slightly frowned “I missed you and love you yes, but that doesn't change anything, it doesn't change what happened or what will continue to happen” you slowly let him go “I don't want to be put in that situation anymore,”

“I know, I know,” He sighed and nodded, “I wouldn't put you in it either, I just wish I could protect you from it all,” He groaned frustrated “I hate how everyone can be happy and in relationships, but it's not the same for me,”

“They just hate me,” you look down trying to keep your emotions together.

“Well I love you, and I dont give a fuck what anyone else thinks or says,” He places his hand on your cheek stroking it softly with your thumb. You meet his eyes once more and attempt a smile as you try to hold back tears once more.

“Hey hey, dont,” He frowns and leans in to kiss your forehead holding your face. You hug his body tightly once more letting your tears fall, you had been waiting for this moment, to be able to hold him and for him to comfort you. He was the only one you wanted to see this whole time to make it feel better, but every fiber in you pushed him away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just-- they said awful things, Vin, and I believed them,” you broke down into his chest as he hugged your body and rubbed your back. “They always say things about me or to me, I don't know why and I try my best to ignore, I just don't get it,” you sobbed.

“I know baby, I know, I'm so sorry,” He sighed, holding you so tightly, scared you'd slip away.

“I don't know how you can do it,” you tried to calm down but just being with him after being away from him for so long made it difficult.

“Even if I need to delete all my social media and just focus on us, on you. I would do it. I don't care,” He pulled away to look at you, you shook your head.

“I could never ask you to do that Vin, it's your life,” you wipes some falling tears.

“For you I’d do it.” He moves his hand to stroke your cheek softly with his thumb wiping away your tears.

“I don't want you to,” you sniff “I just think if we see each other it should be in private so no one will know,”

“So like sneak around?” his face was a bit disappointed.

“Mhm, I feel like that would be best” you hug him once more placing your head on his chest hearing his heartbeat.

“But what if I want to take you out? Like on a date or we just want to get food and hang out,” he sighs, hugging you tightly, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“We’ll just need to figure it out in a way no one will know,” you look up at him still hugging me.

“I mean I guess, if this is the only way,” his voice frustrated.

“Just for a little while Vin,” you pull away from him, your hand falling into his as your fingers hold on to one another. He smiles as you two stay quiet for a moment.

“I know it's been a little while, but um-- do you think I could stay with you here and spend the night?” His fingers still linger in yours as he watches you.

“I’d love you to,” you smile at him and get closer leaning your head up for a kiss. He smiles and kisses you softly, placing his hands on your waist.

“I love you so much,” he pulls away to whisper against your lips, he uses one hand to move a strand of hair falling on your face tucking it behind your ear. “The thought of not being close to you or losing you drives me crazy,”

“Don't think about that,” you slightly frown. “I’m right here,” you slightly grip at the front of his shirt and he gives you a small smile.

“I know,” He sighs and kisses your forehead “I'm just scared I guess,” he shakes his head “Let's get you to bed?”

“I'm not really tired, I should probably hop in the shower though” you look up at him. “Would you uh want to join me?” you ask nervously, that was something you both never done.

“More than anything,” he smiles and nods. He takes your hand leading you to the bathroom and turns on the shower. You lean against the sink and watch him smiling to yourself at his excitement.

“Come here,” He turns around to look at you as you make your way to him, he takes your shirt pulling it off of you gently as you slowly take off your shorts and underwear. He watches you in awe as you step out of the clothing. You hug yourself at the sudden lack of clothing before looking up at him catching him watching you.

“What?” You slightly smile.

“Nothing, you're just beautiful,” He leans in to place his hand on your cheek before kissing you softly, you blush kissing him back. You pull away and get into the shower waiting for him as you close your eyes and stand under the steaming water. He takes off his clothes and gets in, placing his hands on your waist. You open your eyes and smile at him as you run your hands through your wet hair.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He says softly, pulling you towards him.

“I missed you too, a lot,” You place your hands on his damp chest running them up and down before wrapping them around his neck. He leans down to kiss you deeply as his arms wrap around your waist.

“You haven't been shaving,” you pull away from the kiss saying quietly.

“I know,” He sighs “I definitely need to though,”

You lean in to kiss his cheek feeling guilty because you know when he doesn't shave he's usually in a depressive episode.

“Does it bother you?” He searches your face for an answer.

“Vin, of course not,” you slightly frown, kissing him softly once more. “I just know it's unlike you,” You sigh.

“I’ll shave tomorrow, I promise,” he gives you a reassuring smile.

“Now let me shower,” you laugh softly, letting him go waiting for him to unwrap his arms. He fake pouts and lets you go as he then grabs the shampoo before you.

“Let me,” He pours some in his hand waiting for you to turn around as you playfully roll your eyes but do so. He massages the shampoo into your hair as you close your eyes enjoying the moment. He puts his hands on your waist once more leading you under the water to rinse as you do so before turning around to smile at him.

“Your turn,” You grab the shampoo, putting it in your hand as you reach up to wash his golden brown hair running your fingers through it. He lightly bites his lower lip at the feeling and watches you, pulling you towards him once again.

“Rinse,” You smile at him as he turns you both around so now he's under the water as you reach up to help get the shampoo out.

He leans down to kiss you deeply, wrapping his arms around you once more as you smile and kiss him back, your chests pressed up against one another. He groans softly before slowly lifting you up as you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He holds you up against the wall by your thighs giving them a slight squeeze. You slowly slide your tongue across his bottom lip asking for entrance as he allows letting your tongues meet one another causing you to moan. You can feel him growing hard against you as you move one hand to softly grip his hair.

He begins to kiss down your jawline to your neck as you attempt to catch your breath and bite your lower lip at the feeling as he finds a spot to suck on.

“Vin,” you groan softly gripping his hair once more as he sucks and bites at that spot leaving a hickey before moving to the other side of your neck. He peppers kisses all over as you lean your head back against the shower at the sweet feeling. He leans you back so he can kiss down your breasts before taking one in your mouth massaging it slowly with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan at the feeling holding his head in place as he moves on to the other giving it the same treatment. He lets go of your thighs and tapes one thigh to unwrap your legs.

“I want to make you feel good,” He whispers as he gets down on his knees kissing your stomach softly before lifting one of your legs over his shoulder giving him access to your heat. You bite your lip in anticipation as you steady yourself watching him growing wetter by the second. He leans in and slides his tongue from top to bottom causing you to gasp and grip his hair. His tongue finds its way to your clit as he begins to suck at it letting his tongue massage it.

“Oh my- Vinnie,” you moan loudly as your legs slightly shake, your head leaned back against the shower wall as your eyes roll back in pleasure. Your hand not leaving his hair as his tongue continues back down to thrust itself in and out. After a few seconds he replaces his tongue with two fingers thrusting him quickly in and out of you as he lets his tongue trail back to your clit to suck and play with it.

“I-Im so close,” your legs shake even more as he curls his fingers to find your g-spot.

“Cum for me baby,” he groans softly as he feels your walls clench around his fingers.

“Vin,” you moan loudly as you grip his shoulders trying to steady yourself as your climax takes over. You almost slide down the wall but Vinnie quickly grabs you holding you up kissing you softly.

“You okay?” He whispers softly letting you come down from your high. You nod, giving him a smile leaning your head into his chest.

“My good girl,” He kisses the top of your head as you slowly stand on your feet. He turns around to turn off the shower before reaching out to grab you a towel wrapping you in it and then grabbing himself one.

“Let me help you,” you motion to his hard on wanting to make him feel good too.

“No, it's fine baby,” He shakes his head.

“I love you,” you say softly looking up at him as you hug your towel.

“I love you too,” He smiles at you as he finishes drying his hair and wrapping the towel around his waist. You both walk out of the shower and head to your bedroom as he slides on his boxers and you grab his tshirt and underwear putting them on. He sits on the edge of the bed waiting for you as you grab your hair brush and brush your hair.

You finish and turn around to see him watching you as you smile walking over to him standing in between his legs.

“Let's get in?” you peck his lips softly as he places his hands on the back of your thighs squeezing them softly before nodding. He gets up to open the covers as you crawl in waiting for him to follow, he gets in next to you and puts his arm around you letting you cuddle into his chest.

You let your fingers trail up and down his chest before they land on his spider tattoo tracing it slowly.

“You love that one dont you?” He chuckles softly looking down at you as you nod slightly biting your lower lip looking back at him, you lean up to softly kiss his lips before deepening it. He lets out a soft groan as you slowly get on top of him straddling him. He places both his hands on your face holding you as the kiss turns hot and heavy. He moves one hand to slide into your hair gripping it slightly as you softly suck at his bottom lip.

You begin to slowly grind against his hardness causing him to moan as both his hands reach down to grip your hips.

“We should stop,” He groans, whispering against your lips, using all his strength to pull away from the kiss.

“No, I want this,” you whisper and look him in the eyes.

“What?” He studies your face for a few moments not wanting to misread since you had never, “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you nod holding his face and placing a soft kiss on his lips “I’m sure, I want you to have all of me, Vinnie, I love you”

He looks at your face for a few more moments and leans up kissing you deeply, “I love you too baby, more than anything,” he whispers against your lips before flipping you both over so he’d be on top of you. He leans back down to kiss you hungrily as you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer, your leg slowly rubbing against his as he moves one hand to slowly pull down your underwear. He rubs your clit slowly feeling your wetness as you moan into the kiss.

Your hands move down his arms under the covers as you push off his boxers letting his hardness out. He groans softly at the feeling as you take it into your hand stroking it slowly.

“We’re going to go slowly but if at any point you want to stop or don't feel comfortable, tell me okay?” He pulls away from the kiss breathless looking into your eyes. You nod nervously, moving your hands back to rest on his arms.

“I trust you,” you whisper and he nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly before positioning himself at your entrance. You slightly grip at his arms as he slowly enters his tip, biting his lower lip at the feeling. He slowly slides a bit more causing you to wince in pain.

“Vin wait,” you place your hands on his chest pushing him a bit causing him to stop.

“Do you want to stop?” He moves a hand to stroke your hair softly.

“No no, keep going,” you shake your head moving your hands up to his shoulders holding them as he slowly enters a little more into you.

“It hurts, give me a second” you wince once more as you hold back tears not wanting to give up. You attempt to slowly adjust yourself to his length.

“Baby maybe we should stop, we can try again another time,” He looks at you with concern as you shake your head.

“I-I'm fine, I promise,” you lean up to kiss him softly as he kisses you back nodding. He slowly enters the rest of himself into you, filling you up causing you to grip him tighter. He groans softly at the feeling of finally being deep inside you.

“You okay baby?” He whispers looking down at you as you nod in reassurance before he begins to slowly thrust in and out of you at a slow and steady pace letting you adjust.

“Vinnie,” you moan softly, as the pain slowly turns into pleasure, you wrap your arms around his neck once more burying your face into his neck.

“Yes my good girl,” He lets out a soft moan as he keeps thrusting slowly.

“You feel good, Vin, you fill me up,” you move your hands to his back slowly gliding them up and down his skin.

“You’re doing so good, beautiful,” he groans softly as he feels your nails slowly scratch his back. He leans down to pepper kisses all over your neck as you lean your head back giving him more space. “You feel fucking amazing,” He whispers against your neck giving you goosebumps down your spine.

“Vin, harder,” you bit your lower lip wanting more. He stops kissing your neck in surprise at your words.

“Are you sure baby?” he swallows hard watching you as you nod.

“Yes, please, harder,” you groan as he follows with harder thrusts.

“Fuck,” you moan out as your nails dig into his back and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“You like that baby?” He groans as he thrusts harder and faster into you, moving one hand to grip your breast squeezing it.

“Yes Vin,” you nod, wrapping your legs around his legs thrusting your hips to meet him.

“Guess my good girl is a whore for this dick now huh?” he growls into your ear moving his hand down in between you both to rub your clit.

“Oh my God-- Vinnie,” you moan loudly as your back arches off the bed at the feeling. Your legs begin to shake as you feel your climax approach.

“Who do you belong to, slut?” He moves his hand away from your clit and kisses you hungerly but pulls away waiting for your answer.

“Fuck Vin,” you moan, whining moving your hand down to your clit before he grips it and holds it down.

“Answer me,” He growls.

“Y-You, only you,” you cry in pleasure as he smirks.

“Good answer,” he moves his hand back to your clit as he watches himself slide in and out of you. He groans feeling your walls begin to clench around his dick as your legs shake vigorously.

“I'm about to--” you moan loudly gripping at the sheets next to you as he watches you spill all over him before thrusting a few more times and releasing into you.

You hug into him holding him in place as he holds you not pulling himself out yet. You both lay like that for a few moments in silence as he then slowly pulls out and gets up to grab a towel cleaning you up. You lay there watching him as he then gets back in bed next to you pulling you in to cuddle into him pulling the blanket over you.

“You did so good, baby,” he kisses your forehead holding you tightly “Are you okay? Was that okay for you?” He looks into your eyes as you nod sleepely, kissing his lips softly.

“Thank you,” you hold him closely as if he'd somehow slip away from this moment.

“For what beautiful?” he looked down at you rubbing your back softly.

“Just for being so amazing all the time, I don't deserve you,” you hold back tears as best as you could and kiss his chest softly.

“Hey, don't say that. If anything I don't deserve you, especially after everything I’ve put you through,” he slightly frowns thinking about the two weeks they didn't spend together.

“It's not your fault,” you shake your head “And of course I wish things were different, but all I care about is spending time with you and being with you.”

“I will always be by your side, even if you attempt to push me away,” he slightly laughs and you frown.

“Never again,” you look up at him and he nods, kissing your lips softly as you kiss him back.

“Never, you're my soulmate.” He whispers against your lips causing you to smile. Your eyes slowly begin to drift closed.

“Vin,” you say softly as he attempts to stay awake.

“Hm?” he rubs his thumb softly on your arm.

“In the morning can we do it again but I want to be on top,” you say quietly but get a laugh out of him.

“We’ll see baby, you’ll be pretty sore in the morning,” he kisses the top of your head and you nod as you both then fall into a deep sleep.

--------

hope you guys enjoyed this story! feedback is always appreciated <3

#vinnie hacker #vinniehacker #vinnie hacker smut #smut #vinnie x reader #love #romance #lust #vinnie #hacker #fanfiction #vincent hacker #vinniehackersmut

295 notes · View notes

fastfur07 · 2 years ago

Text

Ham Sandwich

CW: Vore

This one's been stagnant for a while, but don't worry; it's been thoroughly cleaned.

Unwilling prey, soft, safe vore, digestion mention.

My name is Ham. I know, it’s a stupid name, but according to my parents it comes from someone in the Bible. That doesn’t make me feel any better, but at least now you know my parents weren’t just crazy about food.

I’m the one who’s crazy about food. I’m a champion speed-eater, and today I’m going up against Stockville, my neighbouring town, in the annual hot dog eating contest. I’m tense - I haven’t had a chance to see my opponent yet, so I’ve been training full-force for the whole week. Three times a day, every day, I set the clock and stuff my face with crass, store-bought hot dogs. It’s not easy to work at this pace, but I’m the kind of guy to take every chance I get.

I’m starting to get sick of hot dogs. There’s a plate of them in front of me in the stadium lounge, and as unappetizing as they look, it’s taking all my willpower not to inhale them with the same methodical frenzy as the last few hundred. I skipped breakfast: I need to be totally on top of my game.

Finally an attendant escorts me out to the field. It’s a bright, cloudless morning, perfect hot dog eating weather, but there’s still no sign of the Stockville competitor. I wave to the crowd, sending a cheer echoing through the stadium - people are surprisingly enthusiastic to see two guys stuffing themselves with hot dogs. I lap up the adoration. It should make things go down a lot more easily.

There’s a whine of feedback from the speakers as the announcer plugs in his microphone. “Sorry,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “Welcome, everyone, to the 156th annual Hot Dog Eating Contest Face-off!”

This inspires even more cheering. The announcer continues, “Today, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, we have a new competitor!”

All eyes are on me. There’s a sudden silence, but I can almost hear the crowd’s thoughts: who is this mystery man? He’s awfully small for a speed-eater. It’s true, I am small. There are probably pigs larger than this Ham, but I can put away more hot dogs than even the most gluttonous hog. They’re gonna be shocked.

“Representing Burnley… it’s Ham Lanolin!”

Riotous laughter. I expected that. I want to climb up, grab the microphone from the announcer, and shout, “It’s from the Bible!” But I don’t, because it only takes a few moments for everyone to realise their mistake. The laughter dissolves into wild applause, and I take a few bows. That’s better.

“And now, our contender!”

I look over at the door on the far side of the stadium. Hasn’t he come out yet? Maybe he snuck out while I wasn’t looking. The crowd is hushed. Who could it be? I know a lot of Stockville speed-eaters.

“Representing Stockville… Jeremiah Denver!”

Oh my god, he’s enormous.

Backed by thunderous applause, a huge hulk of a man strolls out of the door and waves to the crowd. How is this fair? He must be able to keep down twice as many hot dogs as me! But I have to stay confident. I’m small, so I’m nimbler than him. I can go faster. The contest is based on time, so I just need to not get full. Should be easy enough.

“Now, you all know the rules… whoever eats the most hot dogs in five minutes will be this year’s champion!” the announcer explains.

Two attendants appear, holding two massive plates of hot dogs. They look so much better than the ones in the lounge; they must be handmade. I’m drooling already, but I keep my composure.

There’s also a big bottle of water for each of us - damn it, why didn’t I practice without water?! I was practically drinking straight from the hose when I was training, so having a limited supply of water will test me.

I sit down, and Jeremiah sits next to me. “Ham, is it?” he says in a gravelly voice, and offers me a steak-sized hand. I shake it sourly.

“No, it’s hot dogs,” I growl.

The scoreboard flashes up on the stadium’s screen; we’re about to start. Good. I’m hungry.

“Ham and Jeremiah, are you ready?”

More cheers from the crowd as we both nod.

“On your marks!”

I lower my head, singling out the weakest sausage.

“Get set!”

I ready my hands.

“Go!”

---

The first hot dog goes down, smooth as butter. So does the second. The third catches on something in my throat, but the fourth helps it along. Everything’s going well so far. I wonder how Jeremiah’s doing.

It’s hard to time five minutes in your head while you’re stuffing hot dogs into your mouth, but I think it’s at around the one-minute mark that I take my first sip of water. Not too much - just enough to keep everything running in good condition. I’m a machine, I remind myself. A hot dog machine - what kind of machine, though? A street sweeper? An industrial shredder? A trash compactor? Yes, that’s it. I’m a hot dog trash compactor. Keeping myself mentally occupied like this helps me forget how sick I’m beginning to feel. I can take it. There’s four minutes to go.

Eventually, when I reach for another hot dog, my fingers close around nothing. My mouth is still full, so I can’t call to the attendants, but they’re already putting down a new plate. I’m back in action. I think I counted twenty in the first batch, and my record for five minutes is thirty. Maybe I’ll beat that record today. I’d love to see the look on Jeremiah’s face.

I cram them in, sausage after sausage and bun after bun. A chant seems to have started up on my side of the stadium: “HAM! HAM! HAM!”

I raise a hand to wave, and I’m about to resume my struggle when I’m jarred by the announcer’s voice over the speakers: “One minute left!”

Now I start to panic. I increase my pace, still not daring to look at Jeremiah. He probably hasn’t finished his first plate, the big lug. I shove in two at once like a chipmunk and drain the rest of my water to force them down. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to swallow, but I can’t afford to stop. I just have to remember, small, nimble. And don’t throw up.

As I continue pushing myself to fit them in, just one more, over and over, the horn is finally blown to signal the end of the competition. I drop the hot dog I’m holding, almost falling out of my chair as I crumple under my own weight. I can't contain my anticipation any longer. I have to know who won.

I crane my neck to look at the scoreboard:

Ham, 32; Jeremiah, 40.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have our champion!”

Forty hot dogs?! My folks back in Burnley must think that’s a world record. The crowd erupts into cheers as Jeremiah stands up and waves. I slowly get up too, feeling like I went through this torture for nothing.

"Congratulations, Jeremiah," the announcer says, coming over with the microphone. "Anything you want to say to the audience?"

Jeremiah nods. Taking the microphone from the announcer's hands, he looses a disgustingly boisterous belch. It echoes through the stadium, and there's mixed reactions from the audience. I turn away, burying my face in my hands as Jeremiah hands the microphone back, grinning from ear to ear. Does this guy have no shame?

After the camera crew packs up and the audience disperses, I'm left waiting for my folks to take me home. Jeremiah is standing next to me, evidently in the same situation. I opt to strike up conversation, and answer the question that’s been on my mind ever since the competition finished.

“How d… how do you do that?” I splutter.

Jeremiah looks down at me. “Do what?”

“...You know!” I gesture at the scoreboard, then realise they turned it off. “Forty? My record was thirty! There must be something I’m missing. How do you possibly get forty!”

The only answer I get is a blank stare. Jeremiah blinks a few times, but then he seems to understand me. “Oh. The hot dogs.”

He leans in, lowering his voice. “Well, it’s a secret technique where you… oh, well, it’s hard to explain. How about I just show it to you?”

I nod. Jeremiah heads for the stadium door he entered from, and I follow him.

Jeremiah’s lounge is identical to mine, but for a difference I notice immediately: there are no hot dogs on the plate. He must have eaten them already.

He flops onto one of the chairs, which creaks under his weight, and smirks. “Ready to see how I beat you?”

“Yes, but…” I pick up the plate. “Won’t you need more hot dogs?”

“Nah, I’m sick of hot dogs.” Jeremiah beckons me closer. Now that we’re within touching distance I notice a strange growling and bubbling noise coming from his stomach. It fills me with dread, although I'm not sure why. He must not have finished digesting the hot dogs, I tell myself. He can't still be hungry. I hope he's not still hungry.

“So what are you going to use?” I venture.

“I was thinking… a good old Ham sandwich.”

I don’t have a reply to this. What would I say? I’m starting to think this is some sort of elaborate joke when Jeremiah claps his huge hands around my waist and lifts my small body into the air, with seemingly no effort.

“YEEEEK!” I drop the plate in shock, and it smashes on the floor. “What are you doing?!”

“Heh. Showing you my secret. Up close.” Before I can react, his mouth is open and I’m rapidly approaching it.

“Wait no no no no–” I put out my hands to stop him, but it’s too late. Somehow he’s wrapped his jaws around my entire head. Everything goes dark - and wet.

“AHHH!” I can’t believe what’s happening; he’s scarfing me down like an oversized hot dog. I squirm against his throat, but it’s too strong, and all I end up doing is wriggling like a worm, arms pinned to my sides. For all I know, my efforts could only be sending me deeper. “SOMEONE HELP!” I wail, but I know no one can hear me. The growling from Jeremiah’s body grows to a roar. I feel my torso grow damp with saliva, then my legs. My shoes are tugged off my feet, and in a matter of seconds, I’m swallowed whole.

---

I land in a mushy pile of half-chewed hot dogs. I’m breathing heavily; Jeremiah’s throat muscles squeezed all the air out of me. As soon as I recover I begin thrashing with all my strength, desperate to escape. It’s hot, it’s gross, and I don’t know how long my air will last.

“Jeremiah, you stupid–” I snarl. A thump from outside sends me off balance, but I keep kicking. There’s a surprising amount of room in here; I can almost fully extend my legs.

“You see now, Ham?” Jeremiah purrs, his voice booming through my enclosure. “I get my training partners to stretch my stomach out from the inside, just like you’re doing right now.”

Immediately I stop moving, tucking myself into a ball. There is no way I’m letting him improve as a speed-eater at my expense. This prompts a harsh laugh from Jeremiah.

“Okay!” I shout. “You’ve shown me how you do it, now can you PLEASE get me out?!”

“Nah,” Jeremiah replies, releasing another loud burp. “Maybe later. You don’t taste like ham, by the way,” he adds.

I’m hit by a new wave of fear. How long is he going to leave me in here? Surely his stomach will start dissolving me soon, if it hasn’t already. I press my face to the wall and cry out again, “Is that all I am to you? Just another… another meal? I’m gonna be digested! Let me out!” I’m almost bursting into tears now. How can he be doing this to me?

“Of course not, kid!” Jeremiah stresses. I’m not sure, but I think there’s a hint of guilt in his voice. “I’m not gonna digest you! Where did you get that idea?”

“Um… I’m in your STOMACH?”

I cast around for an exit; there is that other way out… no! No, I can't go that way! Can I?

"Please, Ham, just listen to me. I'm not trying to hurt you. Besides, there must be some reward for winning, right?"

I pout. I'm about to give this glutton a little more to chew on when another slap of his belly sends me toppling over again. Damn; he's got me every way I turn. I guess I'm stuck in here.

"Just relax. I'll take care of ya," I hear Jeremiah say, but I'm not listening any more. All I'm thinking about is whether or not he's going to keep his word. I guess only time will tell.

But I can wait. I'm in a stomach. I've got all the time in the world.

The end

#vore writing #vore story #cw vore #soft vore #unwilling prey

33 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 3 years ago

Note

I see that ur request is open, u don't have to do mine (I just rly wanna see how this gonna turn out 🤡)

But may i request a yandere farmer x fem reader

(I'm not rly into any fandom so you can just pick any or Rhys is fine too 👀)

My jam, and you know what? I owe everyone named Alex something, so let me create this wonderful buff farmer!yandere named Alex who I don’t kill off this time, I promise. Enjoy!

I uh, did hint at my ideas for yandere farmers with Milo from Pokémon before so yeah. Let’s go over that again, shall we? I’ll give a warning for pet play for those unfamiliar.

Rated Lime

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

It’s still early in the morning when you hear the jarring sound of the barn door opening. For a moment, you hope that all you experienced for the last few days had been a dream, but your body still aches from sleeping on the cold ground, revealing the heavy truth. You can hear the chipper, “Good morning, ladies!” as the cows start to moo in response, the unbearable smell of fecal and urine drifting towards you with the fresh air coming in from outside.

It’s time to get up, scream, do something! But you blink a few times, your swollen eyes barely opening after you cried yourself to sleep last night, and you look at the iron cuffs around your wrists. Why even trying? you ask yourself, immediately discarding the thought and pushing yourself from the floor. No, it’s too early to give up. You can’t let yourself down like this yet.

“And good morning, Sunshine.” The voice next to you makes you flinch as you look up into the chestnut eyes of your captor. He tips his cap, smiling. You’re disgusted by his presence alone, but a sweet smell comes your way. Leaning over the wooden barriers he put up as your ‘pen’, Alex holds a plate in his hands, pancakes stacking up on top of it with blueberries rolling off of them. The food is still warm, steam visibly rising from them in the colder morning air.

He looks at you expectantly when you don’t make a move, only trying to hide the saliva building in your mouth. You haven’t had a homemade breakfast in a long time, much less proper food in the last few days. There is no telling if your body can still stomach something as delicious as pancakes, but you prefer it so much more than the weird grain mix he also feeds to the cows and would shove down your throat. “Thought you might be hungry, Babe,” he smiles as he sees the desire in your eyes, his own gaze never straying from you, taking in every last flinch and move of yours.

In a way, you are like a wild animal to him, that much he told you. He restricted your movements with chains, fed you like cattle, and treated you like a dog, cooing and using the carrot and stick method to handle you. It’s disgusting, but by now, you at least feel as dirty as one. Using the fork he brought along, Alex cuts off a piece from the breakfast, eating from it first, his eyes staring into yours as he does it. Did he do it to show he didn’t poison it? Does he want to claim this plate of pancakes for himself? But why would he bring it to you in the first place if that’s the case?

Still chewing, he puts the fork down, pulling another pancake piece off the plate with his bare fingers, and holds it out to you. He was eager to lessen the distance between you and him from day one, but his dirty methods made you want to spit in his face. Stomach growling, you are at a loss of what to do. If you let him feed you like a dog, there was no way he’d keep it at that, but perhaps this was your only chance on receiving actual, human food he’d give you if you refuse him.

Your chains rattle as you scoot closer, refusing to play the captured animal and crawl on all fours. Every muscle of yours is sore and hurt from the cold, but there is no other way, the chains around your wrists and ankles keeping you down with their weight. Instead, you stretch your neck as far as possible, your back tensing up in response until your mouth is under his fingers and the piece of pancake hanging from them. But Alex doesn’t just let the food go, watching you with an excited grin as you carefully put the piece between your teeth. Only then does he let go, and you are able to claim the sweet sensation on your tongue as yours.

Eager, Alex holds out another piece, and you take it without even swallowing the first one completely. Something in you completely set out as your brain is satisfied with sugary sweet and fluffy pancakes melting in your mouth, their warmth going through your whole body. You are hooked on the rush of food, you don’t notice your tongue lapping up the syrup on his fingers with the next piece of pancake until it’s too late. But Alex notices, his lips immediately turning into a disgusting grin of self-satisfaction, and he reaches for your face, fingers curling under your chin and thumb rubbing over your cheek.

Immediately, you shy away, disgusted by his touch and disappointed in yourself that you didn’t see it coming. In the reflection of his wide-open, maniacally staring eyes, you can see how dirty and disgusting you are after living like a barn animal for days, and that is precisely how Alex sees you. An animal that he just touched for the first time. Who came to him of their own free will. To him, it is progress. To you, despair.

“Come,” he entices, luring you with more pancakes, but you feign disinterest. “Don’t be scared now. I know you like it.”

The pancakes? Yes. Him? Not at all.

“You need to eat to get big and strong, you know?”

“I’m not a baby animal,” you hiss back, putting on the meanest glare you can muster.

“You sure act like one,” Alex reminds you tauntingly, his smile unfading but his expression less amused than it had been before. “Licking at my fingers, coming to me for food. Don’t you think that’s what a good pet does? You’ve been holed up in your corner for too long. You should be more grateful for my efforts, just like the cows.”

Gnawing at your lip, your eyes fall from his to the pancake slowly growing cold. Only now do you realize he has been feeding you with these fingers of his without your knowledge if they were dirty or clean. Being a farmer, you never know where he puts them before approaching you, and you grow more disgusted for having fallen into this trap he had laid out for you.

Suddenly, for the first time, you hear him sigh. Even when he scratched his head and wondered what to do with you before, he never once had sighed. Somehow, it makes you shudder, a bad feeling spreading in your stomach as he hangs his head, shaking it.

“I’m not asking much, you know. Here’s the deal.” His eyes are ice-cold as he looks up again, and Alex roughly throws the piece of pancake to the floor right in front of you. It no longer looks appetizing, but you are more afraid of the man before you than the wasted food. “Eat it,” he orders commandingly, fitting this whole scenario he imagines you two to play in.

“Ew, no--” you want to protest, furrowing your brows when he interrupts you harshly by throwing the whole plate, including the pancakes, to the ground inside your pen. “In less than an hour, your whole fucking pen will be swarmed by ants. But I’ve got something better for you.”

Pointing to the piece of food before you, Alex repeats, “Eat it,” and this time, you don’t dare to respond. “Eat, and you can come inside with me.”

At this, your ears perk up, eyes widening. “I-Inside?” you ask, doubting that he meant what he said. “Yeah. I prepared a nice box for you in the house, warm and cozy. Clean water and a hot shower included, but I need to know that you are willing to listen to me, you understand?”

Body trembling, you sit there like a deer in the headlights. This is too good to be true, and you fear how high the price is that you’d have to pay if agreed. Listening to him can’t possibly be the only thing he’d want once you were inside, but you watch as the first few flies come over from the cows, wanting to get a piece of the delicious breakfast wasted on the ground. You’d have no peace if you stayed here - never.

Your hand reaches out but just as quickly pulls back. “What will we do inside?” you squeak, unable to control your anxious stuttering. Now that Alex’s lips curl back into a smile, you see his sinister side for the first time. He is leaning casually onto the barricade, but his whole demeanor changed into something horrifying, something that gives you the vibes of a sick and twisted person more than ever. “Don’t ask, just decide. Eat and come inside with me, or stay here between cows, piss, and shit. Maybe you can be useful for milk production?”

The pure horror of thinking about what that fate would entail makes you go weak, and in less than a few seconds, you had gobbled up the piece of pancake, stuffing it into your mouth. Immediately you feel the recoil of your body after doing something so disgusting, but you hold back from spitting it out, already having come so far. “Good girl,” he praises you in a belittling tone like you’d use for pets and children. Opening up your pen by unlocking the many locks he had put on for safety, Alex doesn’t mind the food on the ground, neither slipping on it and breaking his neck like you hoped for, nor having shards of the plate go through his boots.

“Give me your hand,” he asks, holding his own out until you slowly lift yours into his. The chains are way too heavy, but the fear keeps you working even though your wrists are open wounds from the chafing cuffs. “Good,” he keeps praising, repeating the progress for your other hand. “You’re learning so quickly, look at you. Attagirl!”

You don’t dare to rub your bleeding wrists as they are finally free, but a giant boulder falls from your heart as you feel relief set in. “Damn, you do need a good bath, though,” Alex mutters as he sits down beside you, proceeding to uncuff your ankles. You feel a sense of shame, not being able to smell yourself anymore but not wanting to imagine it either.

Finally, you are free of all restrains, but before you can try doing anything funny, Alex picks you up in his arms, his broad chest in front of your face and the smell of aftershave and sweat filling your nose. You didn’t know that was how he smelled. After all, he brought you here unconscious, and when you woke up, you were already in this shitty pen, cuffed and gagged for the first two days.

“Feeling good?” he asks you as he notices how quiet you’ve gotten, not much left of your spiteful self that would scream and curse at him before. You nod slowly, not looking up. Looking at him from close-up might cause you to puke after all, and you’ve worked too hard to get to this point. Alex gives you a rough, scolding shake, and you instinctively grip onto his shirt. “Tell me.”

“Yes...” you mumble, hoping that will be enough to satisfy him, and Alex gives you another sigh before shrugging lightly and adjusting you in his arms. “That’s something we can work on,” he promises you for another time, and you keep your head low as he carries you outside.

It’s been way too long that you saw the morning dew on the grass, fog covering the fields in the distance, and the sun only starting to fully rise above you. It makes you look up in awe, unknowingly being observed by a curious pair of eyes from above. Being outside again almost makes the trouble worth it, and you are able to find happiness in this small victory.

But you have yet to grasp the consequences of your decision. Even if it looked great in the image you had in your mind, you aren’t aware of the state of the house inside, what was waiting for you behind the pretty facade of a farmer’s home. The demands he has of you that Alex had yet to reveal and how eager he was to train his adorable little darling. Make you just as dependant and obsessed with him as his animals were, while you’d share their place at the end of the bed for a long time.

And you didn’t even know about the collar yet.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

A/N: Oh god, I haven’t written anything in the present tense for a loooong time. I hope it was readable! Sorry in advance if I messed up occasionally, I tried to get everything sorted out properly... >_< Still, a very enjoyable write and I hope the read as well!

#yandere!farmer #farmer #yandere farmer #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

224 notes · View notes

beigehearts · 4 years ago

Text

Multiple requests are fine! Requests are unlimited.

This is a cool idea so hell yeah

Yandere Adult Trio finding you after a few years after escape CW: physical abuse, mentions of kidnapping, blood, needles

Hisoka

This is rather nice actually. A quiet life in the middle of nowhere where no one questions you. It’s somewhat of a farming community you live in. You work at a farmers market, selling fresh fruits and vegetables to the same people every day. Everyone here recognizes you under your fake identity, and treats you as part of the community. As if you didn’t randomly appear one day. As if you aren’t in hiding.

It’s been about three years you would say. Three years since you escaped... him. You dyed your hair, wore colored contacts and completely changed your clothing look. You moved countries, learned a new language, and completely dropped your entire identity and life. It was the only way you could escape him. How you escaped him remains a mystery to you too. He was always attentive but- you escaped that last time. Slipped through his fingers.

Mr. Grady, the oldest farmer in town hobbles over to your stand and smiles with his big loose mouth. He only has a few teeth but you don’t need many when you blend all of your food anyway.

“Oh hello Charlie. How are you today?” He asks with his frail old man voice.

You smile back and begin bagging up the usual for him. “Very good Mr. Grady. How are you?”

Your conversations are never short but it’s almost become a highlight of your day to hear the old man ramble. “Oh you know. The sheep dog are sick, so I tried rounding those cows up with my cat. He practically got trampled!” He throws his arms up as if it’s unbelievable. You somewhat listen as he continues. “... moral of the story is, cats are unreliable and only have two lives.”

As you hand the paper bag over the counter the old man stops to think for a moment. “I saw someone new up by the shops today, he was a real character. Quite tall too.”

You nod and get the change for the money he hands you, “Oh really? Did you talk to him?”

“He wasn’t much interested in me. Though he didn’t seem like a normal traveler. He was much too eccentric for that.” He offers one last toothless smile, “Don’t work too late. It’s time for the foxbears to come out of hibernation soon.”

Before you can further question him, he hobbles off pretty quickly for an old man. Of course you’re overreacting but someone eccentric and tall randomly coming to town? No it couldn’t be. It’s been over three years since then. And he wouldn’t go this far for you would he?

After closing up the shop you grab the keys to your car and head for the ‘parking lot’. It’s a field with white lines spray painted on the grass with a single light to illuminate the whole place. You hop into your car and are just glad to finally go home after a long day. It was rather slow but that’s because it was a tuesday. It is very busy on friday-monday. You start your car, and turn on the air, you plug your phone in and relax some into your seat.

You adjust your rear view mirror and scream when you do. You just barely catch the reflection of someone in the back of your car. He’s sitting in the back seat watching you closely. You decide against turning around to face him.

“Hello y/n. Or is it Charlie?” He asks calmly, as if it were a casual conversation.

You clear your throat and try to control your shaking. “What are you doing here Hisoka?”

He ignores your question completely. “You really know how to choose a nice town. Quiet, friendly, off the grid.”

“I suppose.” Your hands grip on the steering wheel tightens. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, well, it was quite hard really. You did a good job. But once I found the first person who helped you change your identity, it was just a matter of going down the chain.”

You’d rather not think about what happened to those people. “And what are you doing here?” You repeat your question.

“Well there’s only one thing I’m here for of course.” He leans back in the seat, just barely having enough room for his legs. “I’ve come to bring you home.”

“I don’t want to. It’s nice here.” You state as if you have an option.

He leans forward this time, and cranes his head around the drivers seat to whisper in your ear, “It’s really not up to you pet.”

Before you can even react, there’s a rope around your neck, and he’s pulling you hard against your seat. You claw at the rope and gasp for air. You try to turn some but the rope burn hurts too much. You manage to get your fingers under the rope around your neck, and throw yourself forward.

His head smacks the back of your seat but your head smacks the wheel, honking the horn. There’s no doubt that you’re bleeding. You throw the rope over your head and jump out of the car, and run. But he’s much faster.

He jumps out of the car and before you know it, he grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you to him. He holds you against himself with his arms, leaving no room for escape. But you have one more trick up your sleeve. You throw your head back as hard you can and headbutt his face. There’s a loud crack that you can only assume is his nose.

He groans and his nails dig into your skin through your clothes. “You really got feisty while I was away.” His nails begin to pierce your skin, ripping through the cloth of your shirt. “But it’s no matter, it only turns me on more.”

Illumi

To say you’re on the run is an understatement. You’re practically sprinting away even all these years later. You know that if you stop for even a few days that he would find you. You spend no more than three days at a time in the same place. You’ve travelled half of the world by now- and quite honestly it has been somewhat nice. Not just the freedom from the suffocating grasp of your captor Illumi, but being able to see the world. You would never have done this if not for the situation you were in. Maybe things happen for a reason.

It feels like forever since you’ve been travelling. But the reality is that it’s only been two years. Two long years of not stopping. You have a new name and often go days without eating. It’s not easy getting money when you aren’t in the same area for long.

It was late night when you escaped from him. He never let his guard down so you just had to go for it. He wasn’t expecting you to make a mad dash out of the manor, and hide out in the woods for a few days. Slowly but surely you managed to get out of the mountain prison, leaving through the small door next to the office. The man working at the entrance was sipping tea and reading the newspaper when you left much too busy to pay attention to you. You’re more than sure he was punished for missing you leaving. But sometimes you wonder if he chose to ignore you on purpose, and let you escape.

It’s a beautiful morning. You slept on a few blankets and a sweatshirt as a pillow on the ground of a cave. It was hard to get any sleep at first but you managed to get used to the back pain. The sun is shining through the canopy, streams of light illuminating the cave. The grass outside of the cave is wet with dew droplets. It’s only slightly humid but the breeze with the warm weather is heavenly. It’s not every day you get good weather like this.

You sit up and stretch your arms in the air, yawning tiredly. Your usual morning routine was to get a fire started, and put the tiny kettle above it. In your small backpack you have a few essential items. Coffee being one of them. You get out your tin can after jimmying a fire and filling the kettle with water from a nearby stream. You drop some instant coffee grounds in the kettle and bask in the aroma of coffee.

You pour yourself a cup and put some powdered milk packets and splenda in the cup, stirring it with a stick that looked relatively... clean. But you had a feeling that today was the day. You weren’t sure why this morning you knew he would find you. But you did. Almost on cue, you hear footsteps approach behind you.

You bring the tin cup to your lips, taking a long sip of the hot coffee.

“So this is where you’ve been.” You don’t even flinch at his words. You knew this was inevitable.

The coffee burns your tongue. “Yes, I must have stayed here for a day too long. Don’t you agree Illumi?”

“Yes. It was quite stupid.” There’s a silence between the two of you. You continue sitting on the ground with your back facing him. “Are you ready to leave?” He asks as if he’s picking you up from and elementary sleep over.

“May I finish my coffee first?”

“I suppose.” Though he doesn’t move from his spot, his gaze staying firm on your back.

Luckily you haven’t spent all this time just running, but training. In self defense to be specific.

Quickly you jump up and turn around, you move your arm to throw the coffee on him in hopes of burning him. He grabs your wrist, but the coffee does land on his forearm. You bring your leg up to kick him in the side but he grabs it right as you make contact. The only hit you actually manage to land is when you throw a punch with your free hand at his throat. If it were anyone else they would be stunned for at least a few seconds. But this wasn’t anyone. He shows no sign of flinching.

“Are you ready now?” He asks.

You allow your body to relax and he lets go of your limbs. “Go ahead, put a needle in me.”

He doesn’t argue with your point, pressing a needle to your chest and the last thing you hear is “Don’t fight it.”

Chrollo

The very thought that all of these people by his side had no qualms about you being kidnapped makes you sick. All of them had many chances to set you free and yet they stayed loyal to your captor, as if this were normal and okay. So many people witnessing this unhealthy obsession and not even muttering a word about it. Honestly you find it more ridiculous than you do sad. How did he have all these people under his thumb? Was he really just that powerful?

Wherever he went, you went. One day he had what they called, ‘a mission.” You had caught a cargo train out west and jumped on, as stowaways. It’s not as if anyone checked each boxcar. All of you had fallen asleep in the small space of the boxcar. The train was at full speed, with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Cargo trains were much faster than you anticipated. Once you were sure everyone was asleep, you stood up casually as if you were just stretching. In case someone woke up. Which they did. Nobunaga peeled his eyes open and examined you. But he was too slow, you leaped out of the car before anyone could grab you. You went tumbling through a field after hitting your head very hard against the ground. It wasn’t the perfect escape but it was an escape.

After that you found a nearby farm, and while it was still night you stole a horse from a barn. You rode for many miles, until days later you found a very busy city. Somehow you managed to make a life for yourself, becoming a low grade secretary.

Today was a slow day, your employer did not have many clients today. You checked in on your boss to see if she needed anything but she waved you away. You decided to play solitaire on the computer, a perfectly valid way to waste time.

The phone rings and you pick it up while still keeping one hand on the mouse to play solitaire.

“Hello this is the Seedling Lawyer’s Office. How may I help you?” You stick the phone between your ear and shoulder, playing solitaire.

There’s a chuckle from the other side of the phone. “So it is you.”

Your blood runs cold, and the only thing that your head is telling you is ‘run’. “I’m not sure who this is, could you please state your name and purpose for calling?” Playing dumb seems like the only decision right now.

“My darling, there’s no need for the semantics. I’m coming to pick you up right now.” Perfectly on cue, the sliding doors of the building open and you drop the phone, standing up abruptly.

His eyes show affection and kindness, but there’s a glimmer of... rage. You look around but no one is in the waiting room and you know the cameras are fake for security. This is a cheap layer’s business after all.

“There’s no need for the semantics Chrollo.” You try to say mockingly but it comes out more as fearful and unsure.

His smile drops and he begins walking towards your desk. “Do you understand the consequences of your actions y/n?” He scoffs kicks the heavy desk to the side as if it weighed nothing. “I missed you of course.”

“Ah well, maybe I needed a break.” It comes out as a question.

He corners you against the wall and places a rough hand on your cheek. “Oh darling, oh my sweet darling.” His smile reappears, as sweet as it always has been. “I’m going to kill your entire family.” His hand grips the side of your face roughly and he tilts your head back.

“You really are something. I would never hurt you, you know.” He places a gentle kiss against your cheek despite his tight grip on the side of your head. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences for what you’ve done.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab his wrist. “Well you’re hurting me right now.”

Immediately he drops his hand and sighs. “I would never hurt you intentionally, or if not necessary.” He grabs your throat, holding it so tightly you wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk again. He’s crushing your air ways and vocal cords. You claw at his wrist but its useless. “Disciplining you does not count as hurting you.” He leans forward, and if you could yelp you would.

He bites your cheek, definitely leaving a mark. After drawing blood, he licks it up. Your vision is going dark but you’re simply not strong enough to fight back. “Do you understand darling?”

#hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #yandere hisoka #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere illumi #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #hxh #hunter x hunter #adult trio #adult trio x reader #yandere adult trio #yandere

1K notes · View notes

cocobeanncteez · 3 years ago

Text

Ateez Hongjoong: Tame (Final Part)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 2.2k in this part. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex, pulling out, facesitting.

“What are you guys up to?” you questioned, plopping down on the couch beside Wooyoung. Yunho, Jongho, and San were seated on the opposite couch.

“Just talking about one of our hostages who we will kill tonight,” Yunho replied while playing with a rubik's cube.

“What did they do?” you asked.

“He tried to sabotage our latest drug deal with a secret dealer from Russia. We didn’t know how he found out about it, but he spilled the beans on his gang,” San answered. “So we don’t need him anymore.”

“Well… rest in peace, I guess,” you remarked, making Wooyoung snort.

“Would’ve been better if we killed Yang Daeyoung instead.”

You turned to look at him. “Who exactly is he? I’ve heard his name a few times, but I’ve never gotten the opportunity to ask.”

Jongho gently cleared his throat. “He’s the man who raped and murdered Hongjoong’s sister. Him and three of his men. He wasn’t from a very powerful gang or anything, but he does his work extremely well. He wanted to take us down, and he used Hongjoong’s sister as bait to trap him. Hongjoong refused to give up on Ateez. By the time we managed to track Hongjoong, the damage was already done.” You felt your heart break; you couldn’t even imagine what your boyfriend had to go through.

“Where is Yang Daeyoung now?” you asked.

“Rotting in our torture chamber as we speak.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?! Why haven’t you killed him yet?”

“We are looking for his child,” Hongjoong replied, joining the conversation. “The man has over five trillion won kept in a secret bank account. He also has information, good and bad, on every mafia gang and the corrupted politicians and locals involved. That’s why all gangs are still on the lookout for him even though we captured him eight months ago. He has a secret place somewhere in the world and only his child can access his possessions as he used iris pattern recognition. He has covered up everything though. We can’t find shit on any of his family members.”

“No amount of threatening or torturing works on him. We even told him that we’ll find his child and torture them,” Jongho added. “But he won’t reveal anything to us.”

“Maybe I can try?” you suggested. You did learn how to torture someone for information, but it wasn’t something you really enjoyed.

“Your chances are extremely low,” Wooyoung remarked.

“I’m aware of that. But even a little information could be helpful, right?”

“Go ahead then, sweetheart,” Hongjoong said with a smirk. “I’d love to see my girl torture that filthy bastard.”

You pecked his lips. “Then let’s go now, shall we?”

You made your way to the torture room, Hongjoong, Jongho, and Wooyoung following you. Seonghwa joined you after finishing his work in the interrogation room, satisfied with how much information he was able to obtain. Jongho entered a passcode for one of the rooms, letting everyone inside.

The room was pretty dark and looked like a jail cell. You saw a plate of untouched food on the floor. There was a chair in the middle of the room and a cot at the end of the room where Yang Daeyoung was sleeping, his back facing you all, long chains attached from his hands to a pipe.

Wooyoung moved to the sleeping form, giving the man a kick on his back to wake him up. “Get up, fucker.”

Yang Daeyoung groaned in pain before sitting up, looking at the faces of everyone in the room. As soon as you made eye contact with the man, your heart dropped to your stomach.

His eyes widened. “Kiah?! What are you doing here?!”

The boys immediately turned to look at you. You weren’t able to utter a word due to how shocked you were at seeing your own father there. His hair was quite long and he had a long beard and moustache. There were a few scars on his face and arms.

“How do you know her?” Hongjoong interrogated.

“Run from here, Kiah! They’re gonna kill you,” your father yelled at you.

“Do you know him?” Seonghwa asked you, but you weren’t able to answer. You felt sick. You felt terribly sick that it was your father who raped and murdered your lover's sister.

Tears rolled down your eyes when you glanced at your boyfriend. How could you ever face him now?

“Kiah!” your father yelled, tugging hard on the chains, grabbing your attention. “Get out of here! They’re gonna torture you in front my eyes! They said they will find you and torture you!”

Hongjoong looked at you with an emotionless expression, finally understanding the situation. “You’re his daughter?” You couldn’t respond.

“Are you this bastard's daughter?!” he yelled at you. Before you could answer him, he rushed out of the room. You couldn’t help but cry, burying your face in your hands, feeling your heart ache.

Your father glared at you angrily. “Why are you involved with Ateez?! What is wrong with—"

“Shut up!” you shouted, cutting him off. “You’re fucking pathetic! How could you r-rape someone when you have a daughter?! How could you lie to me all these years that you’re a cop, when you’re nothing but a heartless monster!” you sobbed loudly, collapsing onto the floor. You felt someone kneel beside you, wrapping their arms around you.

“Get away from her, Park Seonghwa!” your father spat.

Seonghwa turned to glare at him. “Shut it,” he said, before helping you stand up, taking you to your room.

You blankly stared at the window of your room from your bed, watching the horizon darker as night was approaching. It has been four days since you last saw Hongjoong. You felt nothing but emptiness and agony. You didn’t know if he was at the mansion or if he went somewhere as you haven’t left your room at all ever since Seonghwa brought you to it. The girls tried to make you eat, but you barely had the appetite to.

You sighed, forcing yourself to get out of bed to take a shower even though you were going to crawl right back into it.

Stripping out of your clothes and entering the shower, you pushed the tap, letting the warm water soak you. Closing your eyes, you could feel a dull ache in your chest when you began to think of Hongjoong. A sob got stuck in your throat, but escaped a few seconds later. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sat down, hugging your propped up knees. Your sobs got louder, and your throat was aching, tears mixing with the water running down your face.

After spending a few minutes crying until you couldn’t anymore, you finally washed your body and your hair.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and another one for your hair. You exited the bathroom after putting some clothes on, having no strength to dry your hair with a blow-dryer. You stopped in your tracks when you noticed a figure seated on your bed.

“I'm sorry…” Hongjoong apologized, getting off your bed and moving towards you. He stood in front of you with a pained expression on his beautiful face. You wondered how long he was waiting for you and you really hoped he didn’t hear you cry. Even if he didn’t, he could still tell you were crying as your red, puffy eyes gave it away.

“F-For what?” you stuttered, voice shaky.

Hongjoong sighed, looking down at his feet. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have left you alone when you were going through much worse. It was a shock for you too…”

Your eyes filled with tears. “I understand why you did it. It’s okay…”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not okay, baby. I’m ashamed of how I acted. You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked, causing the tears brimming at your eyes to slide down your cheeks. Hongjoong reached up to cup your cheeks, gently wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head in his hold. You pulled away from him, taking a deep breath. “Hongjoong, I-I think it’s best if we end things.” His eyes widened, heart aching due to your words. He opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke before he could. “I’m the daughter of the man who raped and murdered your sister, Hongjoong. I-I can’t…” you paused, sobs taking over. “I can’t live with that fact. I can’t look at you without thinking about it.”

“I don’t care, Kiah,” he reached out to hold your hands, his own eyes filling with tears. “I love you. Do you understand? I fucking love you. Yes, I was furious when I found out that you were the daughter of that bastard, but you shouldn’t have to suffer because of him. You didn’t even know what he does for a living. It’s not your problem.”

You sniffled. “You don’t h-hate me?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Baby…” he sighed, pulling you into a hug, his own tears rolling down his beautiful face. “I could never hate you. Never. You’re the love of my life. Fuck, I can’t even live without you. These past four days… I felt like I was gonna go insane if I didn’t see you, but I had to give you some space.” You didn’t know what to say.

“There's no me without you,” he continued, gently pushing you away so that he could see your face. “So please… never try to break up with me again. I’d rather die than live without you,” he cried. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest while you both cried together. Hongjoong placed soft kisses onto your head, trying to calm himself and you down.

When your sobs stopped, he gently pushed you away so that he could look at your face. He cupped your cheek, titling your head back before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his own in a soft kiss.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against you. “I love you,” he murmured.

You smile slightly. “I love you more.”

Epilogue

“Oh my god! We’re finally here!” Jiwoo squealed, running on the cooling sand. Ateez managed to find out the location of your father's secret hideout in Fiji with the help of Yeosang who used your iris pattern to track the computer. Ateez managed to receive all your father’s possessions and now you all had flown across Fiji for a mini vacation.

“Jiwoo's dream destination is Fiji and now we’re here,” San said, watching his girlfriend with love and adoration. You chuckled, watching San run after Jiwoo to join her little hyper session.

“We’re gonna go rest for a while,” Seonghwa stated, holding Aeji's hand.

Wooyoung smirked. “I know what that means,” he said, earning a smack on his head from the older man before the couple went to their beach house in the chain of houses.

Hongjoong took your hand in his, intertwining it. “We’re gonna rest too. See you all for dinner,” he said, dragging you along to your little beach house.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, sandals leaving prints on the sand, observing the various hues of orange, red, blue, and purple in the beautiful sky as the sun was setting. Hongjoong let go of your hand when you reached your beach house, pausing in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look, wondering why he wasn’t going inside.

He cleared his throat, moving his hands to wrap around your waist. “You’re the only one who could tame my temper, as the boys always say," he started, making you giggle. “The only one who could make my heart beat so fast. I’ve never wanted anything more in life than to be with you. You aren’t just my girlfriend, you’re my best friend and the love of my life. But now I’d like to change that,” he reached into his pocket, taking out a small velvet box.

Hongjoong got down on one knee, and you gasped, realizing what was about to happen. “I’d like to be upgraded from your boyfriend to your fiancé.” You chuckle at that and he opened the box, revealing a beautiful oval-shaped diamond ring.

“Moon Kiah, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yes!” you squealed, face beaming with happiness. Hongjoong took your hand in his, sliding the ring onto your finger. He got up and you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. When you pulled away, he grinned before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you. Thank you for bringing light to my life.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you too, Joong. So much.” Hongjoong chuckled, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

You couldn’t wait for this new chapter in your life, spending it with Hongjoong by your side for the rest of eternity.

296 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Calling... | Juyeon (tbz)

Juyeon tbz! x f! reader

Summary:

Long distance is hard, even for people like you and Juyeon.

Genre: angst, some fluff, LDR relationship

A/N: some self-indulgent angst because I’ve been feeling low these days and have nowhere/no one to vent it to.

-----

"We’re going to get through this, Y/N. I promise.”

That promise. You’re not sure whether that’s a curse or a blessing. Every single day becomes a torturous game between wanting to give up everything that you’ve built with the man of your dreams and pushing forward towards the happy ending you’ve always hoped for.

It was easier in the beginning. Maybe because you were both so new to the prospect of love, that you didn’t know what you were missing from each other. It only grew harder the more the years went by and though some people said that the pain gets easier, you’re not quite sure whether they’ve supposedly missed out the part where you keep falling deeper in love with him every day.

Maybe if you didn’t love him so much, it would hurt less. And god, you wished that would happen. You wished a miraculous cure would numb the swell in your chest every time you had a spare moment to think of what Juyeon was doing. You wished that it would stop the familiar burn of tears tearing your throat apart every time you forced yourself to keep down your choked cries for the sake of not crying. Because you were sick of that too.

This kind of pain is toxic and unsurmountable, to an extent that you start wondering whether life would be easier without Juyeon around.

"A few more months Y/N,” Juyeon says, face taking up your phone screen as you put the device onto your nightstand in favour of curling your knees up to your chest. You’re trying very hard not to cry, and hope that he can’t see the silent tears slipping past your lids, “it’ll go by quickly, I--”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” you mumble out, having already heard this mantra over a thousand times. It’s the same thing, after all. A few more months, a little bit more time, just a little-- you’re so fed up of all this waiting, of everyone telling you the exact same thing.

You’re so sick of it. You can’t even look at the camera anymore.

"Where...Where do you think we stand?” comes his question. A little hesitant, but without any stutter. And when you look back at his face, you notice the downward cast of his eyes, the saddening turn of his lower lip.

It’s hurting him just as much and you hate it. You hate how guilty you feel about dragging him into this when he’s only just a victim.

“What do you mean?” you ask softly.

Juyeon takes a soft breath, exhales, “like...do you think we have a hundred percent chance? Or...fifty percent? Or...”

He trails off, but you understand what he means, and shrug while scratching the back of your head, “definitely not a fifty,” you say, biting your lip, “and...there’s nothing that can make me say we’re less than a hundred, but...”

You’re not certain what to say there. It’s touchy, and you don’t want to hurt your boyfriend more than you are at this particular moment.

If you had been asked a question a year earlier, there is no doubt your answer would’ve straight up been a hundred percent. And you’d say it with confidence too, Juyeon knows that.

But it hurts so fucking much.

It hurts so much that it’s the only thing you can think about every day.

It makes you sad. It makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry because there is literally nothing else you can do to take your mind off it.

"Do you...are you--" his voice wobbles, then breaks off without courage of actually saying the words out loud, "I--"

You shake your head, lips trembling as you murmur, "I'm not--I`m not gonna do that, Juyeon."

You fear that saying the words out loud might make it come true. And you don't want to imagine what that would be like, even if you entertain the possibility at the back of your mind.

The silence overcrowds the distance between you and the phone. For a minute, you can't bear to meet Juyeon's eyes. Your fingers start picking your nails apart, a nervous habit you've manifested whenever you get anxious.

When Juyeon speaks next, his words are laced with pain and he doesn't even try holding back a sob, "please," he exhales shakily and even from your tiny screen, you can see the redness lining his eyes, "please don't break up with me."

Your heart aches at the sadness etched onto his features, "I'm not," you repeat it more firmly then, "I won't."

He doesn't answer. But then again, you've probably shocked him to the core.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," you say quietly.

"No, it's okay. I--" running a hand through his dark locks, you note his jaw clenching, "I didn't know you felt this way. I'm the one that should be sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"It is, though isn't it?" He chuckles emptily, "I guess I...I'm not doing enough."

"That's not it, Juyeon. It hurts a lot. This, everything. And I'm just tired. I'm tired of always crying. I'm just so fucking tired."

And then you burst into ugly sobs.

----

The weather has gotten warmer now that June is in full swing. Your final semester is over and that means a little bit of freedom before starting your job search. It is enjoyable and peaceful, walking across town with your friends, meeting up at odd hours of the day and finding new treasures that your town has to offer.

You are currently in the middle of parking your bike next to the harbourfront when your phone suddenly buzzes in your pant leg.

"Hey," you say as you pick up the receiver, "what's up?"

"Hey," there's a little bit of static before Juyeon'a voice comes through, "I'm good. What about you?"

"I'm at the harbourfront. Getting some air."

"That's nice," a pause, then, "how was it?"

"I think I might have enjoyed it more than I should've," you tell him as you walk up to the edge of the harbour. The water lolls peacefully against the edge and it calms you down, as the talk has earlier, "it helped. A lot."

He breathes out softly, "that's good to hear. How...how do you feel?"

"Surprisingly serene."

"Woah, fancy description."

You can't help but laugh at that, "thanks. I try."

A comfortable silence fills the air and you lean down, hand outstretched to catch some of the waves lapping up along the edge, "and you?" It's been a while since you've managed to speak to Juyeon properly. You miss him, "how have you been?"

"Oh you know," you hear him shuffle, "keeping myself busy. I started working at a skateboard shop. It's been...interesting."

"Do you even know how to skateboard?"

"I can stand straight on one. Does that count?"

You giggle, "no, you goon. You actually have to be able to skate on it."

You talk for a little while longer as you enjoy the peace and quiet that comes with a breathtaking view. Even more breathtaking as the sun slowly sets over the horizon and giving bloom to hues of orange and salmon pink bleeding into the clear blue sky.

It has been nice to talk to someone. As per Juyeon's request a few weeks earlier, you had decided to sign up for a free counselling session. You weren't a big fan of people poking around your thoughts and feelings, but the consultation had actually been really enjoyable. To unleash everything that you've been carrying in your heart is a weight that has suddenly lifted off your chest, and you feel shades lighter as you spend the reat of your evening roaming through town, getting your groceries, walking along the pavement back to your flat.

"I gotta go now," Juyeon says as you unlock your front door, "Changmin's been bugging my ass for thirty minutes."

"Well please tell him I have nothing to do with this."

"You had everything to do with this."

"Lying will get you nowhere."

"And I will tell him anyway," he singsongs, causing you to chuckle good-naturedly. That is, before the next words come to shake up your heart a little.

"I miss you."

You smile softly, sadness combing through your chest, "I do too, Juyeon."

"Stay safe, okay?"

"You too."

"Talk soon Y/N," his voice is filled with a gentleness that makes your heart sing, and you repeat back the said words, a mixture of melancholy and fondness blooming inside your chest.

Ending the call and setting down your groceries atop the kitchen counter, your eyes find the date circled in red.

Your lips curl into a smile.

----

"Flight A472 has arrived. Travelers, please make your way to the luggage section.“

The intercom buzzes with static to repeat the earlier statement and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as you slowly get up from your seat. You've been waiting at the nearby fast food joint until now, and it's no surprise that your butt feels numb and flat.

Stretching your limbs and picking uo your bag, you sling your navy coat over your shoulder and make your way towards the arrivals. The airport is deserted at this time of night and you're grateful, for it gives your heart more time to prepare for the man you haven't seen in over eight months.

Eight months. Eight months is a long time. It's almost the time it takes for a baby to be born. You flush at the thought, wondering whether Juyeon sees you in his future just as permanently as you see him.

"Who are you waiting for?" Your head swivels to see an older woman, in her late fifties, with a handbag slung over her shoulder and a burgundy scarf wrapped around her neck.

"Oh, uh--" heat travela up the back of your neck, "someone close. And you?"

"My daughter. I haven't seen her in over two years," the woman smiles fondly, "it's hard, isn't it? Not being able to see your close ones every day."

"Yeah," you mumble, "it sure is."

Your gaze is now fixated on the sliding doors now that people have started walking out. One by one, you watch as strangers hug their families, laughing and smiling. A couple is embracing in a nearby corner. And the old woman brightening up and waving at the sight of her daughter pulling up her luggage.

Your chest can't help but swell with emotion. What a beautiful thing to be admire the magic of a reunion. Tears rush to your eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of love radiating through your veins and bathinf your limbs in warmth.

"Y/N."

You freeze. Slowly, you turn around and see Juyeon.

Your Juyeon.

He stands there, backpack on his shoulders and hair ruffled. A luggage at his side and sporting a grin.

Your heart explodes.

Heat rushes through your face, mouth opening in a soft 'oh'.

"Juyeon," his name rolls off your lips.

You're breathless. Everything falls out of focus.

Juyeon. Juyeon is here.

Everything happens so fast. You blink and you're in his arms, his warmth engulfinf you, his scent making you light-headed, his lips permanently pressed against your temple as your hands unconsciously scrabble to hold on to his hoodie like he's a dream you don't want to let go.

It's magical. It feels like a goddamn miracle.

You can't help but burst into tears.

"Oh god," Juyeon's chuckle echoes through your ear. He tightens his grip ever so slightly and kisses your forehead, the corner of your eye while stroking your back.

You cling to him like he's your only lifeline, "I missed you," you sob into his shirt, "I missed you so much."

"It's okay," he cooes into your ear, one hand coming up to smooth over your head, "I'm here now, Y/N."

"I--" emotions rush through you like a dam broken down by the tides and suddenly you're babbling everything you've kept hidden in the grooves of your heart, "I'm so sorry for everything, I-- I was hurt and scared and lonely. I didn't think about how this distance affected you too and I'm sorry I made you go through all this when you did nothing wrong, I--"

Your words get muffled by his lips pressing onto yours to stop any other protests and you melt into him like coming home with open arms. His arms pin your middle to his chest, parting your mouth with his and taking your breath away with every suckle, every nibble. It makes you gasp, clutching his shoulders and returning his kisses with just as much vigor.

"You," he breathes against your parted mouth, "are everything I want," pulling back to press his forehead to yours, he continues, "so don't you dare think for one second, that you're in this alone. You're never alone, Y/N."

"I love you," you murmur, nose brushing his. He kisses you once more, heat lingering between you and claiming your affection for him, "I love you too."

You know that this isn't the end. A path of tears and pain and struggle still await you. The mountain is high and steep, a tough climb that makes youe legs tremble.

But you know now, looking into Juyeon's eyes and seeing the magic in there, the dripping affection that makea your fingers tingle, that this is it. There's nobody else, nothing else you want than Lee Juyeon.

Because if there's one thing for sure is that Juyeon's hand is the one you want to take, to make that climb happen.

"Wanna get out of here and tell me everything I've missed out about you?" Juyeon whispers upon finally detangling himself, though still holding on to your shoulder as he gently pulls you towards the exit.

"Only if you tell me everything I've missed about you," you reply.

He chuckles, before pressing another lingering kiss over your cheek, "deal."

220 notes · View notes

archived-kin · 4 years ago

Text

late with lucifer

note from kin: i just realised that the title sounds like a talk show ffs

anyway get ready to get SAPPY (and also get ready for a low-key out of character lucifer)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn! reader, lucifer, satan, beelzebub, belphie

pairing(s): lucifer/reader

warning(s): brief existential dread right at the end but i think it’s relatively light

genre: fluff all the way (with maybe a teensy bit of angst???? i accidentally got kinda deep towards the end)

Deciding to commit yourself to a bona fide workaholic music nerd who would sooner chop his own hand off than skip a single working day for potentially the rest of eternity has been... a choice and a half, to say the least. Yes, he’s a sweetheart most of the time, and you love him more than possibly any being in the known universe (though jury’s still out on cats and the dragon you met a couple of months ago who brings you giant mouthfuls of leaves every weekend), but you’d be lying if he didn’t have qualities that make you want to drop kick some sense into him sometimes. And one of those qualities happens to be his absolute refusal to just take a damn break.

“Just one more hour,” He keeps telling you whenever you ask him if he’s finally finished with his mountain load of paperwork. “One more hour, and then we can spend some time together.”

It has been five hours since Lucifer went to his study to ‘get a bit of work done’. Five hours of attempting to finish the mountain of books Satan has recommended you in the corner of the library, probably irritating the poor guy to no end with your constant restless shifting. You're surprised that he hasn’t up and left to go read in his room in peace - then again, it’d be hypocritical of him to tell you off for moving about. You’d think a bookworm like him would be so absorbed by his beloved books that he wouldn’t be able to move at all, but he fidgets about so much when he’s reading that you’re surprised he hasn’t somehow worn a hole through his favourite armchair yet. At any rate, you’re pretty sure you can see him getting ready to flip himself upside down for the seventh time this evening in the corner of your eye.

You try once again to focus on the lucrative business deal happening in Chapter 52 for the fourth time in the last ten minutes, but your brain just doesn’t seem to be listening to you right now; no matter how hard you try to register what’s going on, the words just don’t want to be processed. Finally, checking the clock on the wall for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, you decide that you might as well go bother your busy bee upstairs. It’s been at least a fortnight since you’ve been able to spend a full evening or night with him, and, if you’re honest, it’s beginning to get a little on your nerves.

Satan barely looks up from his book as you hop to your feet and begin making your way out, though he does lift a hand to wave a brief goodbye. Contrary to your prediction, he has not flipped himself upside down, but is now sitting the wrong way around on his armchair instead, facing the seat’s back, with his book carefully balanced on its head. Unconventional, but you’ll give him credit for the creativity.

The House of Lamentation is oddly quiet for a Friday night, but you’d guess that’s because Asmo and Mammon, the two loudest members of the house, have taken it upon themselves to celebrate the arrival of the weekend by going out for the night and probably blowing their savings in the process. Well, Asmo will be blowing his savings - Mammon will most likely find a way to put his spendings on one of his other brother’s tabs, or worse, yours. Then again, you don’t buy things often, so you suppose you can spare a bit of cash. (Knowing Mammon, though, he’ll probably buy enough to put you in debt for the rest of your life.)

On your way through the corridor, you’re struck by a sudden idea. Lucifer’s been shut in his study ever since he got home from the R.A.D., which means he most likely won't have eaten anything. At any rate, you know for a fact he wasn’t there for dinner with everyone else, which means you now have a much better excuse for going to see him other than just wanting to. Lucifer may be a stubborn demon, but he's never been able to resist a mug of tea and some biscuits on long nights when it's you offering them.

Beel is rustling about in the snack cupboard when you slip into the kitchen - no surprises there, but it is a little odd that he’s going for the lighter foods rather than something more filling. You'd comment on why he's down here so late into the night - he should really be in bed - but then again, it's Beel. He'd listen to his stomach over his brain any day of the week.

“Oh, hey,” He greets as he retreats from the cupboard with an armful of what look like several cookie boxes stacked on top of each other. “Did you get hungry as well?”

You shake your head and pull two mugs out of the crockery cabinet. “Nope. Just thought I’d bring Lucifer some tea and biscuits, you know?”

“He’s been in his office for ages,” Beel agrees with an earnest nod. He glances down at the heap of cookies in his arms, then pauses. “Ah… here.”

You look up as you fill the kettle with water to see him holding one of the boxes in his arms out to you. “...what’s this for?”

“There aren’t any biscuits left in the cupboard,” He says by way of explanation, shaking the box he’s offering to indicate that you should take it. “So you can have these.”

“Aw, you don’t have to do that, Beel!” You gently push the box back towards him and give his arm a fond pat. “I’ll just bring him something else. Go ahead and eat the cookies, okay?”

On any other occasion, Beel would most likely have accepted your offer without hesitation (the day that Beel rejects food will probably never come, but you have a sneaking suspicion that a black hole would rip this reality apart if it does), but it must have been a really good day for him in terms of being fed, because he actually continues to try to give you the box. You’re tempted to coo at the big softie’s uncharacteristic generosity, but you’re not particularly sure how that would go over with him. If being in a relationship with Mr Pridey McPrideface upstairs has taught you anything, it’s that you can never take a reaction for granted.

“No, you have it,” Beel insists, shifting so that he doesn’t drop the rest of his biscuits and stubbornly attempting to shove the box into your hands. “I’ve got plenty right here.”

Your surprise must show on your face, because a moment later he smiles a little sheepishly and adds, “I promise I’m not sick or anything. I’ve still got lots right here. One box won’t make that much of a difference.”

You think it over for a moment as the kettle begins to bubble aggressively behind you. You’re a staunch believer in the fact that one should never deprive Beel of his food, partially because he’s an absolute sweetheart who deserves the food he eats, and partially because something bad could and probably would happen if said food is taken from him. Then again, you’re not taking the food from him, strictly speaking - he’s the one offering it to you. That exempts you, right? At the very least, you have a counter-argument if Belphie tries to persecute you for taking his beloved twin brother’s biscuits. (He probably wouldn’t - the kid adores you - but it’s good to be prepared for possible trials.)

“Ah, fine...” You eventually relent and allow Beel to press the box into your hands. Your compliance is well worth it - the beam on his face and the little pat he gives the box in your hands in satisfaction could probably cure multiple strains of cancer. “You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

He flushes slightly. “I-it’s not that big of a deal…”

“Oh, that’s nonsense,” You tell him firmly over your shoulder, beginning to busy yourself with the teabags and sugar as the kettle hisses to a halt. “Personally, I think I’m going to remember it for the rest of my life.”

You smile to yourself as Beel laughs a little bashfully behind you. “Thanks…”

“No problem, bub,” You reply, pausing in your work to turn around and shoot him a wink. “Hey, chuck me a spoon, would you?”

He nods and does just that - literally. He throws the spoon across the kitchen with such precision that it lands perfectly in your outstretched hand.

You thank him and begin to pour the hot water into Lucifer’s mug. He says that he likes his tea as is, without any bells or whistles or fancy additions, but you’ve been doing this thing for long enough that you know that he actually prefers his tea with a teaspoon of honey and just a splash of lemon. He just refuses to actually say it out loud.

(To be honest, you’re not sure why he does that - does he think tea with honey and lemon is a wimpy drink or something just because you told him it’s often drunk as a remedy for a sore throat in the human world? Knowing the way his mind works, it’s probably something along those lines, but still, it’s a weird conclusion to make.)

You finish preparing Lucifer’s tea quickly - you’ve done this so many times that the movements have become second nature to you at this point - and start making your own. The drinks are finished a minute or so later, and with that you begin setting up your little snack tray.

After a moment’s debate, you decide that today is worth going the extra mile, and start to carefully arrange the biscuits on a pretty plate. It’s a bit of a hassle to get them into the right formation, but it’ll be well worth it once you get them to their intended receiver - Lucifer always gets the fondest little smile on his face when you bring him his biscuits in patterns, and that man doesn’t smile nearly enough for your taste. Personally, you’d quite like it if he smiled like that all the time, but then again, their rarity is what makes them so precious to you.

Ah - you’re starting to get sappy again. That’s a surefire sign that you haven’t spent enough time with your beloved demon lately. Well, it’s a good thing you’re going to see him now, isn’t it?

The door to Lucifer’s study is still as tightly shut as it was five hours ago when you approach it, but you doubt he’s actually locked it. He’s stopped doing that ever since your visits while he works became a regular thing - he hasn’t said it out loud yet, but you know that it’s his way of showing you that you’re always welcome to come in.

Unlocked as it is, though, you can’t exactly turn the doorknob to let yourself in. You’re a human of many talents, but being able to balance a heavy tray in one hand is not one of them. Lucifer’s tea wouldn’t make into his study - it’d just end up all over the floor.

“Lucifer!” You call softly through the door, mindful that he might be having another one of his work-induced headaches, “I’ve brought you some tea! Open up!”

For a while, the only reply is silence. You know there shouldn’t be any reason for him to be, but you can’t help but worry briefly if Lucifer’s somehow angry at you. Then again, Lucifer’s always liked to play the fashionably late card against you - whether to tease you or to disguise something, you’ll never know.

It turns out that your little worry was unfounded - a few moments later, the door swings open to reveal your favourite demon in all his exhausted-looking glory. Lucifer, who looks like the physical manifestation of work burnout, offers you a tired smile, and stands back to let you enter.

(Here’s a little secret - Lucifer would never tell you this, but he’d perked up like a kid when candy is offered the moment he heard your voice. Still, gotta put up the cool front, right? Even if that means waiting restlessly right next to the door for a minute so that you don’t think he’s over-eager…)

“Thank you.” He murmurs as you bring the tray over to his desk and set it down on one of the few patches of wood that aren’t covered by papers.

You dramatically pretend to swipe sweat from your forehead as if you’ve just finished a ten-mile run and shoot a smile up at him. “All in a day’s work, love.”

He smiles softly and leans in to gently press a kiss to the crown of your head. His pale cheeks have darkened slightly - Lucifer’s always been a softie when it comes to the host of sappy nicknames you’ve given him. One gentle ‘sweetheart’ and he’s melting like an ice cube on a hot day. It’s the sort of thing that people like Mammon and Levi would probably call gross or something, but you honestly couldn’t really care less about that. It’s not harming anyone else and it makes both of you happy, so why shouldn’t you give your lover as many endearing pet names as you can come up with?

“What even is all this?” You ask, peering at the papers scattered across the desk as Lucifer moves over to have a look at the plate of biscuits. You look up just in time to spot the way his eyes light up slightly when he sees the flower you've arranged them into.

“This and that,” He replies vaguely, hovering a single gloved hand uncertainly over the plate, as if trying to decide which biscuit he can take without spoiling the pattern.

“That’s hardly an answer at all,” You complain, plucking three broken quills from among the documents and waving them at him. “Why do you keep using these? A pen would be way more efficient.”

“Official documents should be written in the traditional way,” Lucifer tells you. He takes his time chewing the biscuit he’s finally chosen before continuing. “And Diavolo prefers quill and ink calligraphy to look at.”

“Honestly…” You round the edge of the desk and reach up to brush some powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to do absolutely everything according to him.”

Lucifer blinks down at you, lips parting slightly in half awe and half surprise as you smile at him. “Ah…”

His smile widens slightly, and he gazes at you with so much fondness in his eyes that you almost feel a little weak at the knees at the very sight. Lucifer really is a dangerous demon - in more ways than one.

“Well, c-come on, then,” You prompt him abruptly, not wanting him to realise how much his gaze has affected you, because you just know it’s going to give him an ego boost. He pauses in surprise as you start tugging him over to the big armchair beside the fire - the one that the both of you can fit snugly into together. “Let’s have a drink together.”

“I still have papers to fill out—” He attempts to say, but cuts himself off as you shake your head and stubbornly attempt to push him down into the seat. It doesn’t work - Lucifer’s much stronger than you, after all - but he does at least seem to appreciate the effort.

“You’re taking a break whether you like it or not,” You insist, starting to smack lightly at his arms in an bid to get him to listen to you. “Papers can wait. I’m more important.”

That does get a little chuckle out of him, and he finally relents, sitting down with a subtle sigh. “That goes without saying.”

You laugh, suddenly a little more hot around the collar than you’d have liked. “You said it!”

Pausing to retrieve the tray with the tea and biscuits and set it on the table beside the armchair, you quickly join Lucifer in front of the fire, snuggling in at his side and letting out a blissful sigh as you feel him start to draw circles on your arm with his fingers. It’s a sort of habit that he’s developed over the last few months - you’re not sure if he even realises that he’s doing it.

The two of you stay like that in comfortable silence for several minutes. Lucifer’s tense shoulders relax more and more with each passing moment, and soon enough, he’s sprawled out against you, pressing his cheek lovingly into the crown of your head.

It’s only at moments like this that you get to see this softer version of him, so you always cherish it when it happens. Lucifer may be a slightly passive-aggressive panther who could kill most beings with a swipe of his hand if he sees fit, but, every now and then, he’s a sleepy panther who’ll roll over and let you scratch behind his ears.

Conversation is usually sparse at times like this - the two of you are content enough in each other’s presence that you don’t really need to make small talk. Today, however, Lucifer seems to have something he wants to vent about.

“Belphie has been missing a lot of his homework again lately,” He murmurs. You make a noise of affirmation to indicate that you’re listening, staring at the mugs of tea sitting on the table and pondering whether the two of you will actually manage to part for long enough to drink them.

“Is it anything important?” You ask after a moment, playing absent-mindedly with his left hand. He doesn’t make any move to stop you as you mess about with his slender fingers, so you assume that he doesn’t mind.

“Mostly essays,” He replies, shifting slightly and letting out a quiet sigh. “He’s never liked writing them, but he hasn’t had so many missing before.”

You make a thoughtful sound. Now that you think about it, wasn’t Belphie confiding in you about this the other day?

“It’s just hard to sit down and concentrate sometimes, especially when I’m always so tired,” You remember him saying resignedly over hot chocolate and marshmallows. “It’s not like I don’t want to turn all my homework in on time. Sometimes I just can’t.”

“Well, you shouldn’t force yourself to do them, either,” You’d replied, giving his shoulders a sympathetic pat. “Needs over school of course. If you need to sleep more, then sleep more - if you feel like you can’t write the essay, then don’t write the essay. I’ll talk to Lucifer if he gets mad at you.”

He’d given you a grateful smile then, and turned back to his hot chocolate with a marginally brighter look on his face.

“Belphie’s been having a lot of nightmares lately, so he isn’t getting as much sleep,” You say slowly. “I told him to go ahead and take as many naps as he has to. His needs are more important than schoolwork, after all.”

Lucifer takes a long while to answer, but you don’t mind. It’s only fairly recently that he’s really come to terms with the idea that he doesn’t need to be so hard on his brothers - that it’s okay to put their comfort before whatever image of respectability he’s trying to keep up for Diavolo. The change has been somewhat jarring, according to Satan, but it’s not an unwelcome one, and you’ll gladly take responsibility for it with your constant reminders and careful explanations that Lucifer’s younger brothers have their own problems that he needs to give more leeway for.

“...did he come to talk to you about this?” He asks finally.

“Yeah.” You can’t see his face, but you can practically hear the frown beginning to pinch at his brows. “I know it might not seem like it sometimes, but he does want to make you proud. He’s never wanted to disappoint you.”

He takes a deep breath and releases it with a low hum. “...Belphie has never disappointed me.”

“Seems that he doesn’t realise that sometimes, though,” You sigh, tracing the seams of his glove with your index finger. “He’s a good kid, really.”

Lucifer doesn’t give a verbal reply, but he does hum again. You shift slightly and turn to look up at him; he looks back at you with sleepy, half-lidded crimson eyes. “Take it easy on him, okay?”

He gazes at you in contemplative silence for a long while, blinking slowly like an affectionate cat. Finally, he nods, and you beam proudly, dipping your head to rest on his chest, carefully positioning yourself so that his buttons don’t dig into your cheek.

“I’ll speak to his teachers,” He says quietly. “We should be able to arrange something.”

You smile against the fabric of his waistcoat, taking his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze. “That’s progress. I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t respond, but you know full well that he loves it when you say that to him. He didn’t in the early days of your relationship, mostly because he’d thought you were patronising him, but now that the two of you are so much more familiar with each other, he’s learnt to recognise that you don’t mince words; you say what you mean, and you mean what you say. Which is exactly why, as the Avatar of Pride, he absolutely loves it when you tell him that you’re proud of him.

Lucifer himself is deep in thought. Struck by a sudden warmth spreading through him, quite independent of the crackling fire before him, he wraps his arms around you, resting his cheek against your head. It’s at moments like these, when you’re so close to him, that he realises just how fragile humans like you are.

It terrifies him sometimes, knowing that the unforgiving march of time means that you cannot be with him forever. One day you will leave, and you will grow old and fade away without him, because, no matter how much he wishes otherwise, you belong to a different realm. You are not a demon, and he is not a human; your worlds can collide briefly, for a single, beautiful moment, but then they will continue to move in their own orbit - and perhaps they will never meet again.

Some would say that, for this reason, he never should have fallen in love in the first place. Relationships like yours have always had a sort of taboo, even in the Devildom, because all beings are not created equal; humans have such short, meaningless lifespans compared to demons and angels, such little power, always depending on leaders and faith in a deity that they cannot prove the existence of. That is what demons tend to think of humanity, and until he’d met you, Lucifer had felt similarly.

But your life has been anything but meaningless, and the power you hold over him and his brothers is far stronger than any amount of potent magic that any being holds. The seven lords of the Devildom would lay waste to all three realms should anything happen to you.

Lucifer had never thought that he had the ability to love so deeply and so purely, but then again, he’d also never thought that a human like you could exist. It seems that he’s been wrong about a lot of things, and he can only pray that he will be wrong in his prediction of how this will end.

But you’re with him now, curled up against him with a content smile on your face. For now, you’re here, and while you are, Lucifer doesn’t want to waste time on worries.

Your story is yet to reach its ending, and if Lucifer knows anything, it’s that he will stay by your side until then. As long as your worlds are still connected, he will continue to love you, and he will love you long after your worlds separate again.

He’s sure of it.

#unedited #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #lucifer x reader #swd lucifer #swd satan #swd belphegor #swd beelzebub #fluff #lucifer is one of those characters that you can interpret in SO many ways and i love that for him #he's pretty fun to write as well #existential dread #we love a good big brother lucifer #for those of you reading these tags here is a hint for the next obey me piece #remember the simeon with a himbo bf piece?#we're getting a part two baby #(warning: the part two is likely not going to be anything remotely like what you're thinking of)#;)

541 notes · View notes

merakiui · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I’m not sure if this is allowed — so please feel free to decline if you feel uncomfortable — but do you mind doing a scaramouche with an s/o who has anorexia? I’ve been feeling down and need some comfort...but besides that — please take care of yourself! <3 Also, I love your work! <<33

Scaramouche with an Anorexic S/O

cw: descriptions of anorexia/ED, starvation, unhealthy views/thoughts, negative body image **please stay safe and heed the trigger warnings if this sort of content bothers you! note - I hope you’ll feel better, anon! please don’t hesitate to reach out if you’d like to talk :D remember to eat three meals a day and drink water! <3 don’t forget to take any vitamins or medicines you may require!

You’re stuck looking in the mirror again, pinching your waist and closing your fingers around your wrist. Scaramouche has caught you ogling at yourself in the mirror before, but he’s never really thought much of it.

He’s always busy, so he isn’t too concerned over your behavior at first. He doesn’t really find it odd when you claim to have already eaten when he visits. In fact, you always seem to have eaten in advance.

The more he’ll ask to take you to fancy restaurants or cute cafés, the more you’ll insist that you’re not hungry. It gets him rather frustrated because he wants to spend time with you on these fun dates, but every time he tries to ask you’ll decline.

You don’t mean to upset him. You’re just not exactly comfortable with food for your own reasons and you explain that you’ve got a small appetite, claiming that you don’t want him to waste his money on large portions you’ll be unable to finish.

But Scaramouche doesn’t care about money; he’s got more than enough to spare on his beloved. Once he starts suggesting dates that have nothing to do with food, you perk up, seemingly more relaxed over the fact that you won’t have to eat anything.

You may not realize it, but Scaramouche is observing your every reaction like a hawk, not entirely sure what will become of his findings. It’s clear that you have an issue with food; you did mention having a small appetite. But then he’s looking beyond food and he’ll notice that your clothes are a few sizes larger.

The baggy style obscures your body type, allowing you to hide deep within the sleeves. He’s seen similar styles before, but he never thought you were interested in that type of fashion as well.

When the two of you are out and about, you’ll stare longingly at passersby who have an ideal body based on your standards.

Scaramouche decides to finally ask you about it when he catches you idling in front of the mirror. He’ll bring up every odd thing he’s noticed thus far and will want a thorough explanation so he can understand just what’s been going on with you.

You’re fumbling for a response, trying to come up with a proper excuse that’ll fool him. It’s hard to lie to your lover, especially since he looks genuinely concerned.

And when he grabs your wrist to get you to look at him, feeling stiff bone rather than the soft flesh of your wrist, his entire body freezes. He knows something’s wrong when you pull away, holding your arm as if it’s broken.

“Have you been eating properly? You don’t look so well.” Now he’s actually taking in your facial features and how rigid and bony they seem. You’re not the vibrantly healthy person you once were—you resemble a skeleton, sharp joints and gaunt cheekbones.

You don’t even have time to defend yourself because he’s talking over you, sounding so scared and angry at the same time.

“Why haven’t you been eating? You’ll wither away into nothing if you keep starving yourself! Is this what you want? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

You’ve never seen Scaramouche in such a frazzled state before. He’s usually composed, easily able to calculate a solution to any problem rather than fretting over it.

And yet when he sees you looking so frail and thin, he feels unbelievably sad, conflicted over the fact that he shouldn’t have let his own work consume his thoughts.

You’ll have to explain your anorexia to him and why you limit your caloric intake so much. It’s all to achieve an ideal body type, as you believe yours is flawed and gross. It’s not the type anyone would want. Hearing you talk about your own body as if it’s a monster is horrible, and Scaramouche will pull your trembling form in for a comforting hug.

The road to recovery is long and rocky and there are moments where you slip back into your anorexia, comforted by the fact that you’ll be as light as a feather and as skinny as every handsome and pretty person in Liyue.

But Scaramouche doesn’t care about what you look like because you’re already perfect in his eyes. He loves you for you. He’ll tell you not to worry about what other people look like and that you don’t need to change yourself in unhealthy ways.

There’s nothing weird or unsavory about your body; it’s great as it is and if you continue to starve yourself it won’t be strong enough to support you and you’ll die.

That’s one of many wake-up calls for you, as the last thing you want is to be separated from your caring lover. So you agree to do your best while in recovery, even though it’s such a grueling task.

Scaramouche is supporting you every step of the way. He doesn’t force you to eat much, but he’ll watch and make sure you can at least finish half of what’s on your plate without feeling sick or hating yourself for gaining weight.

It’s hard to reach your healthy weight goal, especially when you’re so scared of it. But you try your best so that Scaramouche won’t have to feel so worried whenever he isn’t around. His support definitely comforts you and even though it takes some time before you’re able to eat normally, you’re eternally relieved that he’s helping you through this.

And when you finally eat your first whole meal without dreading the thought of weight gain or how you’ll have to shed all of that excess weight, he’s incredibly happy and proud of you. When you see how bright his smile is as he sees the empty plate, you realize you couldn’t have gotten this far without his overflowing love and support.

#tw: anorexia #tw: eating disorder #tw: starvation #tw: negative thoughts #tw: negative body image #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hcs #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche hcs #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche x reader

571 notes · View notes

multifandomfangirl93 · 3 years ago

Text

Back at it again…….

Just imagine..

You are over worked and exhausted.

You are going through a breakup, are working 40+ hours a week, and you are taking 4 college classes on top of trying to have any life at all.

Sleep doesn’t come easy and you are stressed to the point of breaking out into hives. You just want to stop and let your best guy friends snuggle you in between them, but you don’t have time to stop. There is so much to do and so little time. The emotional and mental toll it’s all taking is making you even more tired than ever before.

Steve and Bucky arrive on your floor one evening. After realizing they hadn’t heard from you in a few hours, and knowing you are home since you got off of work hours prior, they felt the need to come check on you. They see through the charade you’ve been fronting for them. Hell, Bucky is an ex assassin. He knew as soon as it started, but Steve wanted to give you some space to get used to the routine of things before trying to fix it all for you. Steve knows you want to be independent, but they both know you are getting near, if you haven’t already passed, your breaking point.

You are sitting in your bed, music ridiculously loud, typing quickly on your laptop. A cup of coffee sits on your nightstand, even though it is pretty late into the evening, as you attempt to get as much done as you can. Exhaustion crept up on you before you even got home, but you had too many assignments due in one week, so you just keep the music up to keep yourself awake and drink a cup or two of coffee. Your getting the jitters as you haven’t eaten anything since lunch time and this is your 3rd cup of coffee today.

Steve and Bucky walk right into your open bedroom door, but you don’t even notice them. From afar, the boys see the tremors in our hands, the way your legs bounce even as you sit. They know that look. You are over caffeinated and exhausted, on the brink of a panic attack, and you don’t even realize it. Your face is flushed and sweat is starting to bead on your forehead as the boys witness your anxiety build when you obviously make a mistake.

Steve walks straight into your en-suite as Bucky calls to you.

“Hey doll. You okay?” Bucky practically yells over the music. You jump and quickly scramble into a fighting position, swaying dangerously on your feet. Bucky steps forward to steady you. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Just as Steve comes in, you collapses into Bucky, no longer able to hold yourself up. Your breaths are coming in short and fast as you claw to get ahold of Bucky. Your weakness and sudden dizziness scaring you.

“I’ve gotcha.” Bucky murmurs as he catches you, hoisting you into his arms. Bucky begins walking toward the living room as Steve follows suit, grabbing your trash bin on the way out. This has happened before. Your nerves, plus your exhaustion, plus not eating, plus the caffeine, plus the anxiety attack normally makes you sick to your stomach. Sometimes nothing happens, but Steve knows to be prepared.

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Look at me beautiful.” Steve said as Bucky sat down with you in his lap, your back to his chest. Steve sits beside y’all, grabbing your face gently in his hands, attempting to make eye contact. “I need you to slow down for us. Can you do that?”

You shake your head, reaching up to grip Steve’s wrists. You squeeze your eyes and your mouth shut as the nausea climbs and you squirm in Bucky’s lap.

Bucky rubs your stomach above your shirt and leans his head on your shoulder, quietly shushing you in between saying sweet nothings. Both boys are trying their hardest to calm you down, but they are having no luck.

“Excuse me, I have requested for Agent Romanoff to come assist.” Friday breaks in.

Just as the AI informs y’all, Natasha walks in with a glass of water and a few pills. “Banner asked me to run these up for you guys. Friday informed him of her vitals while we were doing some paper work in the lab.”

“Thanks Tasha.” Bucky replies, reaching out his free hand to grab the items from the assassin. “We got it from here. Don’t wanna crowd her too much.”

“Of course.” Natasha replies, gently running a hand through your hair. “Feel better немного любви (little love).” Then she’s gone.

Steve has a sharp eye on you and is preparing to lunge for the trash can that he has as he watches your face turn a grayish color as your breathing picks up even more. Steve watches as Bucky puts the wash cloth on the back of your neck and resumes rubbing your stomach. Steve keeps his hands on your face even as you tilt your head back to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. The temperature of your face rises as the panic and nausea rises.

Just as the nausea hits its brink, your face suddenly goes a bit colder. Steve feels the change and lunges to shove the trash can under your chin. Bucky pulls your hair away from your face as you heave into the trash bin Steve provides.

You attempt to hold back the wave of coffee that threats to come up. “Ste- uuurk” You attempt to cry out, but that sends the coffee up and out.

“Shhhhh Hunny. I know. You’re okay.” Steve shushes you. At this point, all they can do is let it happen and take care of you. Steve and Bucky exchange sympathetic glances over your shoulder as they each attempt to soothe you.

You get sick multiple times. Occasionally, Bucky gives your back a few thumps when you sputter. The boys shush you and try to soothe your shaking and jarring form as they wait it out with you.

After a few minutes, you sit back, finally finished. You pant as Bucky pulls you further into him and Steve backs off slightly. The trash can is placed a bit away, but still within reach. Steve takes off his shirts, using the white tank top to clean off your mouth before handing you the water. Steve has you rinse and spit before allowing you to drink any water.

The room is silent as you all wait to make sure the water will stay down. After a few minutes with nothing happening, but the sound of you panting between sips, they get to work.

“Here Buck. I’ll take her. Can you go clean that out and make her something light?” Steve asks his boyfriend, reaching for you.

You allow Steve to take you as Bucky gets up with a nod in Steve’s direction. You snuggle down as Steve takes the glass and sets it on the coffee table. Your head rests on his chest as you listen to his heart beat and Bucky working in the kitchen. You finally begin calming down as Steve sits with you in silence, letting you match your breathing to his own as he holds you close, rubbing your back gently.

When Bucky comes back, he gives you some soup and crackers, telling you to eat some so that you can take your medicine. You comply, exhausted and knowing that he is right.

“You gotta quit doing this to yourself doll.” Bucky says as he hands the medication to you after you finish up.

Steve still has you in his lap. You are reclined back into his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder. “He’s right. You gotta quit overworking yourself. You just literally made yourself sick.”

“I know.” You reply, tilting your head down. You feel ashamed that they had to come to your rescue because you couldn’t have better time management. “I just have a lot on my plate. I’m sorry.” Then the tears start falling.

“Hey. Hey. Hey. None of that.” Bucky says, gently tilting your face up and wiping at the tears as they fall. “We know you do, but you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Like stopping for meals, drinking more water, sleeping.” Steve says, rubbing your arms.

“I know. Sometimes I get so stuck in what I’m doing. I forget.” You sigh.

“We know. That’s why we came up.” Steve replied. “We hadn’t heard from you in a while. You’ve been like this since the breakup and we were starting to get worried.”

“Well, I’ve been worried, but we wanted to let you have some time to readjust. Half a year is a long time to be dating someone. Some people might think otherwise, but by then, you have routines and you’ve been with someone romantically and it can be hard to get used to being alone again.” Bucky says, fighting to be that vulnerable, but knowing you need to hear it.

“It’s been so hard.” You answer quietly. “I got used to always having someone to talk to, someone to cuddle, someone to watch movies with and eat junk food. Someone who I loved and thought I would spend the rest of my life with. *sniff* I feel so alone and working or doing homework makes me forget sometimes.” You cry, leaning further into Steve, curling up in his lap as you talk.

Bucky continues to wipe your tears. He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and covers you with it as he sees the look of exhaustion on your face. The battle for sleep has begun now that your body has been fed and properly hydrated.

“We know sweetheart. We know.” Steve murmurs, tightening his hold on you. “We’ve got you now though. We will help you in any way that we can.”

“Yeah.” Bucky agrees, snuggling into you and Steve. “We can snuggle. We can watch movies and eat junk. We can even talk to you all the time.”

“It may not be the same.” Steve says, turning to kiss you on the crown of your head. “But we love you.”

“I love you guys too.” You say as you drift to sleep.

Later on, once they are sure you are asleep, the boys carry you to bed and lay down with you. Bucky clears the bed off and goes around your floor to make sure everything is off for the night before returning to you and Steve. Once Steve gets his good night kiss from Bucky, they both place a kiss on your forehead before laying down beside you to sleep.

#bucky x reader #mcu #steve rogers x reader #stucky #james bucky barnes #emeto #emeto tw #emetophilia #anxitey #steve rogers fluff #stucky fluff #bucky fluff

94 notes · View notes

works-of-fanfiction · 3 years ago

Text

“He’s the Best.” - 90s!Graham Coxon x Reader

Summary: Graham struggles with his self-esteem within the band and the reader tries to cheer him up.

Requested by: Anon. I hope you like this <3

Warnings: Swearing (literally once).

Word Count: 3.3k - a bit of a longer oneshot from me! I didn’t mean for it to be this long.

A/N: I’ve been writing this and putting it off for days because I just don’t know if I like it, but I don’t want to restart it. Argh… I hope someone enjoys this cheese fest.

* Gif credits to the linked creator

_______________

No one in this life is born ‘better’ than anybody else. It’s not a competition or a game of comparison. Every single human on this planet has their own unique qualities that make them interesting and most importantly, worthy. However, humans sadly aren’t wired to see those qualities in themselves. They spend the majority of their lives obsessing over others; wondering if they’re as talented as the next man, or if they’ll ever look as good as whatshername. Sometimes, it gets to a point where even the deepest of friendships can become strained due to one or more parties comparing themselves to another’s achievements.

And seeing Graham go through exactly that, has been killing me. There was a time when everything Graham and Damon did together, was truly that - together. Every single melody, riff, lyric - it was theirs. Neither one did more work than the other, neither was more musically talented. They were both kids crammed inside a Portakabin with their very first instruments, strumming and plucking and making probably rather bothersome noise. They had no idea what was to become of their lunchtime jam sessions and after school practices. Both were just excited to have a friend that liked the same things as them, and enjoyed the noise the other was making.

But Graham has since become a shadow of who he once was around Damon - he’s become Damon’s shadow. Or so he thinks.

Being in a band with a boisterous frontman like Damon was bound to become hard work for the other members at one point or another, but I never thought it would affect Graham like this. It’s getting harder to communicate with him, and I know it’s not his fault but I’m running out of things to say to fill the silences. There’s only so many times I can ask if he wants a cup of tea, or tell him about the encounter I had at the bus stop earlier that day. I’m sick of hearing my own voice, so I can’t imagine how he must feel. The silence seems to be the only thing he wants; he doesn’t write anymore, he hardly plays guitar outside of work commitments, and he hasn’t picked up his sketchbook in weeks. He just seems to stare at the TV or sit on the sofa with his head buried in a book that’s stuck on the first chapter. I watched him the other day and in forty-five minutes, he turned the page once. I bet if I asked him about the story he wouldn’t be able to recall a single character’s name, never mind the plot.

Watching him struggle with his self-esteem is crushing, and I don’t want him to live another second feeling the way he does. I know it may take a while for him to find himself again, but if I can do anything to help move things along, it’s worth a try. I’d drop everything for Graham in a heartbeat.

“I dropped those music stands off today. Did you get them?” Dave asks, his voice a little crackly on the other end of the phone.

“I did, thank you!” I chime, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I assemble the very same stands.

“Oh, good. I was a little worried about leaving them outside. I thought somebody would take them… What do you need them for anyway?”

“That’s something for me to know and you to find out, Dave.” I laugh, tightening one last knob on the second stand and straightening it out. I stand back and admire my handy work, smiling at the prospect of what they are to become.

“Alright, alright. Well, I hope they come in handy! I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again. See you next week!”

We both hang up and I grab the stands, climbing up the stairs and into the spare room, placing them in their desired places. Grabbing two pieces of sheet music, I slot them onto the stands neatly and adjust them until they’re perfect. With one last thing to check, I turn on the projector I borrowed from an old university friend and let the film play out on the blank wall opposite. I mess with the sound a little, making sure it’s loud enough before rewinding the footage to the beginning and turning it off until later.

Standing in the middle of the room, I turn around and admire everything on the walls. Everything from lyrics to old album art concepts, to still life paintings from Graham’s time at Goldsmith’s. Beside the music stands, there’s crates filled with records, decorated with lyrics scribbled onto scraps of paper, some in Graham’s handwriting and others in mine. I of course, couldn’t resist writing them out in various colours and covering them in star-shaped stickers. The finishing touch is a large beanbag against the wall for us to sit and watch the projector from. I fluff up the beanbag for the thousandth time before heading downstairs to wait for Graham to get back.

It takes around two hours for Graham to arrive home. As soon as I hear his taxi pull up outside, I jump up from the sofa and head into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. Nerves bubble through me as I anticipate his entry. It’s impossible to predict how Graham’s going to be feeling on any given day. He could come through the door and speak to me as normal, or he could disappear into his studio until he’s tired enough to head to bed. Through the rumbling of the kettle I listen out for the door, fingers impatiently tapping on the counter as my gaze fixates on a magpie outside, shakily balancing on the washing line. A second joins it and I smile, muscle memory taking over as I pour the boiled water into two cups, not taking my eyes off of the birds.

“Hi.” Graham’s voice peeps behind me. Putting the kettle down, I turn around with a warm smile on my face. Despite everything Graham has been going through, seeing him come through that door every day is still my favourite sight. Having him come home to me will simply never get old. I don’t know what I’ll do when he has to go out on tour again in a few months.

“Hey.” I breathe, the sides of my face already beginning to feel sore from the ridiculous grin stuck on it. He smiles back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes but I know he means well. He’s trying. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring these in.” I gesture to the brewing teas on the counter and he nods, hanging his bag on the nearest kitchen chair and leaving the room without another word. I finish the drinks as quickly as possible, grabbing the stack of takeaway menus from the junk drawer and bringing them with me, the pieces of paper clamped between my teeth as I concentrate on carrying the two steaming hot cups in my hands.

Setting the cups down on the coffee table, I toss the menus onto the sofa next to where Graham is very aggressively, trying to pull his Docs off. “Need a little help?” I ask, laughing as I kneel down and bat his hands out of the way. “It would help if you untied them.”

“It’s easier to leave them tied.”

“Oh, really?” I scoff, gesturing to his feet still stuck in the cherry red boots. The laces are a complete mess with three bulky knots in them. I sit down cross-legged on the carpet, carefully plucking and unravelling each knot whilst Graham buries his head in the takeaway menus. “How do you even - “ I struggle, pulling at the frayed shoelace whilst trying not to damage it further, “- get these things on?” With one last tug, the first lace loosens and I’m able to slide the boot off with ease. Graham’s face pops out from behind the menu, a side-smile plastered onto his lips and a cheeky glint in his eyes. I know he wants to laugh.

“Shall we get Indian tonight?” He changes the subject, flipping over the tatty piece of bright orange paper as he squints at the options. He always orders the same thing, yet still insists on reading the whole menu front to back. He does it for every restaurant.

“Indian sounds good.” I nod, pulling the second boot off and shoving them to the side. “I’ll call them now.” Jumping up to grab the phone, I type the number in from memory and hold it up to my ear.

“What’s the rush?” Graham mouths and I hush him when somebody answers. I order the usual along with some extras and give them our address, despite them not even really needing it anymore. The phone call is no longer than a minute and Graham sits staring at me, nose scrunched in confusion. “Are you going to tell me what’s going - “

“Follow me.” I blurt out, stretching my arm towards him and rising onto my tiptoes out of excitement. He stands slowly, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the sofa. “I was going to wait until we’d had our food, but I have to show you now.”

“Show me what?” He asks as I grab his wrist and drag him up the stairs. We squeeze up the narrow staircase, almost tripping each other over a couple times until we stop on the landing, feet overlapping one another’s on the small square of carpet.

“I know you haven’t really been yourself lately.” I start, my fingers slipping from Graham’s wrist to entwine with his. He looks down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes watch our hands as I lightly stroke the back of his thumb in an attempt to relax him. He has a habit of tensing up whenever I broach the subject. “So I wanted to remind you just how great you are.”

I watch his face intently, the corners of his mouth twitching and trying to smile. With my free hand, I open the door and flick the light on, pulling Graham into the room with me. His hand slips from my grasp and I back up to stand against the wall, watching as he takes in the room around him and everything in it.

He walks to the music stands first, fingers tracing the notes on the pages, flipping them over then back again. He walks towards the canvas on the back wall - a woodland painting he’d won a prize for back in college - running his hand over the textured patch of paint that forms the trees. I nervously bite the back of my thumb as he kneels down to sift through the records in the large black case below, flicking through every Blur album and single released to this day. My favourite lyrics are scattered on sheets of paper all over the ground, and he picks up the second verse from Coffee & TV. “You’ve always loved this one.” He says, turning to me and smiling.

“I happen to really like the guy who sings it.”

“He must be pretty good then.”

“Oh, he’s the best.” Resting my foot against the wall, I kick my body forward and stand straight, joining Graham beside the projector.

“What’s this for?” He asks, hands hovering near the buttons but not daring to touch anything. I take his hands in mine and give them a loving squeeze.

“Sit down and I’ll show you.” I chirp and he sinks down onto the beanbag. I mess with the projector until the sound starts to creep in, stretching over to switch off the light. Graham shuffles to the side to make some room for me on the beanbag and I flop down beside him, nestling into his side.

The image from the projector is surprisingly clear against the wall, although could’ve been improved had I borrowed a screen from somewhere. A variety of different clips play out in front of us, ranging from Graham performing onstage to snippets of his band members talking and praising their guitarist. I try my hardest to focus on the film in front of me, but I can’t help glancing over at Graham to see his reactions. His brows are furrowed, but not necessarily in a bad way - he’s focused, fully concentrating on everything he’s seeing and hearing.

I fidget with my hands, twiddling my thumbs and quietly cracking my knuckles. Graham notices this and grabs my left hand, squeezing it tightly and bringing it over to rest in his lap. Laying my head on his shoulder, I press a kiss onto his sleeve, rubbing my head against him and breathing in his familiar scent. He lays his head on top of mine, but never looks away from the video playing on the wall. Absentmindedly, his fingertips dance on the back of my hand, the drumming following the beat of Song 2 as it plays from the projector. I too can’t help bopping along to the beat, my foot tapping softly on the carpet.

The video closes with one final clip, a message I recorded for Graham. Too embarrassed to watch myself, my focus stays on him as I squeeze his hand a little tighter and snuggle up as close as possible. The picture begins to fade and the sound plays out until there’s no footage left, and the whirring of the projector becomes background noise in the room. Graham doesn’t say anything at first, but as I try to stand to turn the projector off, he pulls me back down onto the beanbag and rotates his body to face mine.

“Hey.” I whisper, my right hand supporting his cheek as he leans into me, his eyes closed and lips pressed into a line. Our bodies slot into one another’s on the beanbag, the very little space between us growing warmer by the second.

Graham releases a deep breath, his eyes slowly opening again with a small smile spreading across his face. It’s hard to see him properly in the dimly lit room, but I could never mistake those big brown eyes staring at me. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He says, his voice low as he leans in close to speak like we’re the only two people who matter inside a crowded room.

“I wanted to show you how incredible you are. You’ve been so hard on yourself and I just - “ As I speak, tears start to well up in my eyes and I look up to the ceiling to try and stop them from falling. I’d already told myself earlier that I wouldn’t cry, because I don’t want Graham to think he’s upset me. I press at my eyes lightly with my fingertips in an attempt to push the tears away. “I can’t stand seeing you this way because you don’t deserve to feel like this. If it wasn’t for you, Blur wouldn’t exist! Everything you’ve all achieved wouldn’t have happened.” My voice begins to shake and I feel Graham’s hand on my arm, rubbing it gently to try and calm me down.

“Y/N.” He starts, before reaching up to turn on the light. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, before my gaze falls to the ground to avoid his. If I look at him properly, I know I’ll start bawling. “Look at me. Please.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I’ll cry, and then you’ll get upset and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than wha - “

“You won’t upset me. Y/N, I’m sorry I’ve - “

“No, Graham. Don’t apologise.” I grip onto his shirt tightly, my fingers tangling in the fabric. Graham bows his head and nudges it against mine, edging closer until he pushes my head up with his and our noses are almost touching. We both open our eyes, our faces too close that my vision is distorted and I’m seeing double. I pull back, sniffling once and dabbing at my eyes again, still not allowing any tears to actually emerge.

“I’m sorry,“ he starts and I sigh at his words, but he hushes me by holding his finger up to my face, “for putting you through this. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realise how it was making you feel.”

“Graham, this isn’t about me.”

“But it affects you. Bloody hell, if I had to live with this miserable twat - “ he points to himself and I scoff, slapping the back of his hand playfully. “ - I’d have given up by now.”

“I would never give up on you.” My voice is barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Graham goes silent again, staring down at our joined hands and moving his thumbs around. I nudge his head with mine in the same way he did previously and he sniffles, his chest rising and immediately falling again. “Graham?” I bring my hand to his chin and push his face up to find his eyes watery, and cheeks significantly more red compared to a moment ago.

“God, look at me. What the hell are you still doing with me, ay? I’m a bleeding mess.” He sniffs, roughly wiping tears off of his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

“Because I wouldn’t want to be with anybody else.”

“Not even - “

“Ah! Stop right there. There’ll be no more of that.” I take his hands away from his face, holding onto them loosely. “Graham Coxon, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. And I’ll give you a free pass to slap me silly for being so cheesy.” I laugh, his grip on my hands tightening as he awkwardly slides closer on the beanbag, his body sinking into it at a strange angle and pulling me with him. “I love you.”

Within a second, Graham’s hands are on both sides of my face, pulling me in for a kiss; the kind of kiss that feels like the person is pouring their entire heart out to you. Like the kiss between the main characters of a movie, when they’ve just ran across a field or a busy road to collide with another at the centre. His lips messily press against mine and I can feel the stray tears running down his face as they dampen my cheeks. My hands rest on his legs, holding on firmly as his thumbs dig into my face a little. It doesn’t hurt, but he soon pulls away and swipes at my face softly as if to apologise for it. He uses his sleeve to dry my face and I do the same for him, small gasps of laughter exchanging between us.

“Thank you for doing this. If you can’t tell, I really love it.” He says sincerely with a genuine smile, the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The expression is infectious and I can’t help mimicking him as I grin back like the Cheshire Cat. The faint sound of knocking from downstairs pulls us out of our romance film-esque daydream and we both clamber to our feet.

As we approach the stairs, Graham stops and spins me around, pulling me into him. I land against his chest with a huff, before adjusting my hair and looking up at him. “After we eat, can you show me the film again?” He asks, his hand meeting mine to help me fix the loose hairs falling in my eyes.

“We can watch it as many times as you like.”

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #oneshot #blur #request #anon request

97 notes · View notes

i-growl-growl-growl · 4 years ago

Note

can u do a yandere nct 127 reaction to their s/o slapping them? also can i be anon 👠 if it’s not taken

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

Sure! That one’s open! Welcome 👠 anon.

Warning! The following contains yandere themes, including violence and abuse. Read at your own risk.

~Ahreum Rhea

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

Taeil: He pauses for a second processing all of the mixed emotions he’s suddenly got a rush of- rage, hurt, confusion, shock, and betrayal- before slowly turning his head to you with evil lurking deep in his eyes. He clenches his fist and, instead of punching your lights out, shoves you against the wall, watching your form fall to the floor with a thud. He holds back from stomping your ribcage in and instead drags you over to the basement, opens the door, and throws you down like garbage. All the while not saying a word. You’ve only been in the basement once, when you tried to escape, and he’s left you there for two weeks. You can only wonder how long you’ll stay there now.

Johnny: As if as a reflex, he slaps you hard enough to send you crashing to the floor and bleeding from your mouth. This act of violence from you triggered his sadistic instincts. “You’ll get a serious punishment for this, y/n. Thinking you can test me- lay a hand on me, even! Get your ass over here.” He grabs you by the ankle and throws you against the wall before dragging you to the bedroom where he deals a few more blows to you. He takes out a pocket knife and a lighter “15 cuts..I want you to count or I’ll start over!”

Taeyong: You’ll get socked right in the face faster than you can think of how sorry you are. He’ll lose it. He won’t hold back on you, just deal blow after blow after blow, all while yelling the whole time. He’ll also make sure you learn your lesson by breaking your arm. You’re bloody and barely conscious afterward. He then drags you over to a cage and kicks you in- locking it. You’ll only receive medical help if he knows he can’t completely help you himself, but you’ll stay like that for a long time and watch him have ‘fun’ with one of your friends and other women.

“You dare to raise a hand against me you fucking bitch!? I don’t do all this shit for you to then think you wear the pants in this relationship! Clearly I’ve been far too lenient with you!! I’m gonna break that arm of yours and, when I’m done, you’re going in the cage, since you wanna act so wild!”

Yuta: Same as Taeyong, you’ll end up on the floor and then up against the wall as he holds you by the throat, strangling you. The sounds he makes are animalistic and enraged. He’ll see red and will only be able to focus on harming you just as much as you harmed him. Though, your wounds would be very visible once he’s through. Not wanting to kill you, he lets you go, allowing you to drop to the floor. Then he grabs the arm that you slapped him with.

“Y/n, you ungrateful bitch! You don’t deserve to use this arm after what you’ve done!” He snaps your arm at the wrist and forearm, savoring your agonized screams. “This is only the beginning, y/n. For this..I’ll strangle one of your friends while you watch, and don’t bother begging either! It’s too late for mercy!”

Doyoung: He’ll be shocked but angry and he’ll swiftly back hand you. “I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you to make you think you hold any power to raise a hand to me, but I won’t allow it, y/n! Say goodbye to all your privileges for a month” he says as he drags you away by your hair to a room with no windows and no furniture, except for bed, which he then chains you down to. “I’ll feed you when I feel like it. You don’t deserve any special treatment.” With that, he leaves you and ignores any cries you let out.

Jaehyun: He rubs his cheek before slapping you right back, causing your lip to bleed from the impact. “Bitch. Surely, you’re not so stupid as to think that would end well? I guess so, huh?! I guess you’ve still got a lot to learn about me. Come here!” He pulls you over to a couch where he lays you across his lap and exposes your butt. “Count to 50. If you mess up, I’ll start over. Crying and begging won’t do a damn thing for you, now start! I’m losing my patience!”

Winwin: He’ll be mad but more so shocked and hurt that you’d hurt him. All he’s done for you, all the love and protection he’s given you, and all the luxury he’s given you wasn’t enough? He’ll stare into your eyes with an angry and betrayed look in his eyes. A part of you feels hurt after seeing his pain but that will quickly be replaced by pain as he strikes you right back and grabs you by your wrist with an iron grip- nearly snapping it. Now you’re the one who’s stunned (especially if he’s never struck you before).

“Y/n, you continue to test my patience and I’m getting sick of it. This just proves that I’ve been way too lenient and going far too easy on you. I’ll let you get away with a light smack but, next time, I won’t be wearing ‘kitten gloves’ anymore- but I intend to make sure this never happens again. You’ll spend the next 3 days in the basement with no food or water, and don’t bother begging. You’re getting it easy compared to other s/o’s..”

Jungwoo: He’ll be hurt, and he wouldn’t be able to hide it either. His eyes will tear up, slightly, and he’ll give you the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen from him. He’ll looked confused and will be speechless for a moment as he gathers the courage to speak again but he’ll sound sad af- he could only feel a little angry but not enough. You couldn’t help but feel regretful for what you’ve done.

“Y-y/n? W-why did you do that? Have I not made you happy? I’ve only wanted to please you and take good care of you. I know that this situation isn’t pleasing at first but, if you give me a chance and stop fighting me, then I’ll show you just how happy you can be- how happy WE could be. Together. I understand why you’re angry, so I’ll let it go just this once. Do this again and I won’t hessite to punish you accordingly, so, be good, alright y/n?”

Mark: Ohhhh boy. Mark is usually chill but, this time, you’ll see him become so enraged that he’ll pounce on you and do a number on you. That would only be the start of it. Depending on the situation, he may call over some of the more severe yandere’s to help dish out your punishment or he’ll lock you in the cold and dark basement alone to suffer- no in-between.

“You don’t know just how good you have it, y/n. Since you’re being so got-damn ungrateful, I invited some friends over to teach you not to bite the hand that literally feeds you. I could easily dispose of you and replace your ass. Raise your hand to me again and I’ll let all my friends have their way and then dump you somewhere. Don’t fucking test me..”

Haechan: Another yandere that you’d definitely not want to piss off. He’s similar to Mark in the sense that he’ll punish you severely for your insolence. His first reaction would be the same as well; he’ll just start wailing on you like a wild animal, then, if you’re somehow still standing, he’ll grab you by the neck and slam you to the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of you. After the beating, he’ll lock you away for a nearly a week- it would have been longer, but he’s too impatient to wait that long.

“You fucking bitch! I love you and treat you so well, and this is the thanks I get?! I guess I haven’t taught you well enough not to disrespect me, huhI?! I’ll beat the fuck out of you until you learn learn your place and obey me! You make it so damn difficult when it doesn’t have to be! You’ll stay in here alone and you’re only allowed to have water until you learn your lesson! Learn your fucking place!”

#yandere #yandere nct #yandere kpop #yandere taeyong #yandere yuta #yandere asks #yandere reactions #yandere nct 127 #nct yandere

230 notes · View notes

whatanoof · 4 years ago

Text

Cal Kestis Headcanons that No One Asked For

So I’ve slowly been going through story mode of Jedi: Fallen Order, and I’m about to go to the Fort Inquisitorius so I haven’t even finished yet but I’m absolutely in love with Cal Kestis, so here are some hc about him, romantic and non-romantic.

SPOILERS FOR JEDI: FALLEN ORDER

Cal x female!reader

You both love it when you play with his hair. The first time was almost an accident on your part, because you were just sitting behind him on the bunk while he’s tinkering with his saber and staring at the back of his head. It’s so red, and you’d honestly rarely seen such a bright color naturally occurring, much less growing out of a human head? Your hand brushed a strand almost of its own volition, and you both just froze. He slowly turned to look at you, and you almost stopped breathing because Did you just mess up did you just fuck up the relationship oh shit shit shit--. And he just whispers, “Uh, could you do that again?” And you’re in such a state of shock and relief that you just scoot back on the bunk and gesture at your open lap. Cere walks in on the two of you later, him dopey and almost asleep with his head in your lap, your fingers running through the silky strands. She doesn’t say anything, even when Greez points out the two small braids that you left at the nape of his neck.

He’s so competitive. Like come on, this man refused to back down from two or three separate fights against fully-fledged Inquisitors and one insane Jedi Master while he was still technically a Padawan. So he won’t let you beat him. At anything. You’re watering the latest seed that he brought back from a planet? Bam, he’s got Greez’s special plant food and he’s giving every single one of them a five-course meal. If you’re a Jedi, and you’re meditating in the back of the Mantis? You open your eyes after ten or so minutes and he’s right there in front of you, doing that little concentration face that you fell in love with so easily. If you’re a Jedi, you’re evenly matched in almost everything that you do in terms of abilities, and you teach each other where you’re not. Greez is terrified of watching you two spar, because you don’t hold back, but you’re also so equal to him in skill that it’s a whirl of light and blocking known attacks.

Him and BD-1 were a package deal, but as soon as you were welcomed aboard the Mantis, Cal couldn’t believe how easily the little droid warmed up to you. Of course, BD sticks with Cal and is his right hand man on adventures, but Cal no longer occupies 100 percent of BD’s free time. You refuse to tell Cal exactly where, but you found a spot right behind BD’s “head” where if you scratch it, the droid is on the ground and kicking a leg in the air in happiness. If you’re a mechanic, you can usually be found in the back, tinkering with BD’s processor to make it run more efficiently, or oiling his joints again, or designing new paint jobs for the happy little droid. Either way, you’ve stolen a decent fraction of the droid’s affection, and none of the Mantis crew has any idea how you did it. It’s actually the first thing that urged you and Cal to start spending more time together, and you remember BD’s happy little hops after you’d finally kissed Cal for the first time.

There is absolutely no backing for this, but I think that Cal can sing. Nothing fancy, of course, it’s not like there are vocal lessons available on Bracca or in the Jedi Order, but he can carry a tune. It’s sometimes the only way you can fall asleep on the Mantis, because even though Greez and the crew make it cozy, it’s not home. But as soon as you’re curled up in the twin-sized bunk, and Cal starts humming to you, you’re out before he’s finished the chorus. Sometimes the songs are happy, but they’re often little ditties that he heard from the clones before Order 66, or mourning songs that fellow workers on Bracca would sing during the night when the rain was pounding on the metal and creating a natural rhythm and harmony for the tired mechanics. They’re songs of lost love, fallen brothers, and vague longings for newer, better lives. You fall asleep to his soothing voice, but you often wake with an ache in your heart for the suffering and pain that Cal has experienced and witnessed in his short life.

He’s ticklish. He hates that you know. He hates that you told Merrin, and now she can blackmail him into getting her favorite foods from supply markets. But you love the childish giggles that you’re able to pull out of him when you finally corner him and run your fingers over his neck. Tickle fights always end in make-out sessions.

+18 NSFW under the cut

So... Cal never had the chance to understand wanting intimacy before you, sexual and non-sexual. He was terrified the first time he looked at you and didn’t recognize that strange feeling in his chest. He’d never felt it before, was there something wrong with him? Was he sick? It takes a sit-down with Greez for him to figure out what’s going on, and it’s even scarier than the possibility of illness. Jedi were forbidden to love, it had always been a taboo in his mind, even if he had never had the opportunity to find out what it felt like.

He pushes it away at first. He ignores the flutters in his chest when you’re laughing with Merrin at dinner. He denies the complete shorting out of his brain when he accidentally brushes too close to you while trying to get to your shared bunk.

He has his first wet dream, and wakes up absolutely throbbing with the memory of the dream that involved you and him and way too little clothes for his repressed childhood. He tries to grit his teeth and go back to sleep, but it’s too uncomfortable, and he can’t get the image of your body out of his mind. Jedi Masters always gave their Padawans the sex talk, and Jaro Tapal was nothing if not a good Master. So Cal knows basically what he has to do to relieve the tension so that he can get a little more sleep. He just doesn’t expect to lose control of himself to the point where he grunts your name when he comes. His heart just about stops when he hears the bed above him creak, and he yanks the sheets over his head until he’s sure that you’re not awake. He gets up early the next morning so that he can clean up without fear of you catching him.

After you get together, Cal is even more scared of the relationship. He had checked with Cere, and though she skews more traditional in her beliefs, she knows that Cal’s trauma and overcoming of it is more than she could hope to understand. Maybe this relationship could bring a stability to his life that nothing else could provide. She cautions him on the power of Dark Side, and how the fear of losing love dragged many great Jedi astray. But she also trusts you, and she knows that you would never do anything to hurt him. She hadn’t missed the lovesick puppy eyes you’d been sending his way.

You start out promising to take it slow. Neither of you had much experience in the areas of relationships and dating, much less sex, so at the beginning, you make sure to clarify that there’s no pressure to rush through anything. It’s mostly just spending more time together, slowly exploring each other. You both learn about each other’s pasts, and spend time talking through the different experiences, rationalizing and comforting each other. Before you even begin to experiment in bed, he’s become your best friend.

When you finally do, it’s short and sweet and perfect for two people who are trying to take their relationship slow. You teach him about what you like, and he gasps out in between moans what feels good and ohhh, what feels even better.

Okay, a bit of a time skip here, but after Cal’s more experienced, he is a sucker for you riding his thigh. He’s built and strong, so the ridge of muscle beneath you and rubbing against every single spot that sparks delicious warmth in your belly brings you to climax so much more quickly than you could have expected. He loves looking up at you, mouth open and eyes half shut in ecstasy as you chase your high, your heat leaving sticky wetness on his thigh that only serves to make him harder. He’ll grind his leg up if only to hear that heavenly little squeal and whimper that he can get out of you. You’re beautiful to him even on the worst days, but when you’re above him, sweaty and on the brink of coming all over his thigh? Stars, you’re the most glorious thing he’s ever seen, and he rode a shyyyo bird over the untouched forest of Kashyyyk.

Sadcanons. Don’t read if you don’t want sad feels tonight

There is no denying that Cal’s not a whole person at the beginning of the storyline. He definitely regains some of himself back, but there are parts of him that I believe died with the clones and died with Jaro. There are times where he has nightmares, and when he wakes up, he doesn’t want to be with anyone. Even you. He’ll lapse into silence for hours and days at a time, staring at the blank wall while you try to get him to eat or drink something because damnit it’s been days and he hasn’t so much as moved. Your heart breaks at every sign of his damage, because you know that there is only so much you can do to help. This is a journey that he has to complete independently, though it doesn’t mean that you won’t be here for him when he wakes up.

You trace his scars to comfort him. He’s insecure about them, and is terrified of the memories that they bring back. But when you’re there, loving even his jagged edges, it’s all marginally better and he can bear to live with himself a little more.

He comforts you too. Whatever your background, the Clone Wars and the Purge gave everyone a little bit of damage, and you were no different. He holds you when you’re crying, and comforts you after your nightmares. He’ll purposefully pick a happy song to sing when he knows that you’re down, and he never fails to make you laugh through the tears.

His psychometry allows him to understand your trauma better than you could hope to understand his. Before you even allow him to sense your past, you make him promise to not internalize any of it. You know that he would, though it makes no logical sense. He promises.

Oops I made myself yearn. Now back to our regularly scheduled program of single life. School’s kicking my ass right now, but this made me feel better so I can’t complain too much.

But in all seriousness, I recommend this game 10/10. The Star Wars content is absolutely impeccable, the graphics are gorgeous, it gives me a thrill in my chest to know that every single second is canon. Cal is a beautifully written character, and even though his story breaks my heart, it’s written so well. He doesn’t lash out in anger, rather internalizing his fears and pain in a way that I can relate to, and he’s scarily powerful. It’s a feel good story for me despite the pain, and I’m looking forward to finishing it this weekend!

#cal kestis #headcanons #cal kestis x reader #smut #fluff #angst #cere junda #greez dritus #nightsister merrin #jedi: fallen order

320 notes · View notes

starryeyedweeb · 4 years ago

Text

Valentine’s Day with BNHA

A/N: I know it’s late for Valentine’s Day, but this is about the fifth time I’ve tried posting this because every other time it never got a single note even though all of my other stuff does pretty well??? So not to be that person, but if you see this I’m begging you to give it some love because it’s one of my favorites!

*DISCLAIMER*: As I’m over eighteen, I write all underaged characters aged up to be eighteen or older.

Contains: As always, sickly-sweet fluff; gender-neutral

Characters Included: Todoroki Shoto, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi/Todoroki Touya, Aizawa Shota

Valentine’s Day with...

Bakugou Katsuki

As expected, Bakugou thinks that Valentine’s Day is kind of ridiculous and isn’t too keen on celebrating

When his friends ask him what he’s planned for the holiday, it results in a bit of a rant

“Valentine’s is a shitty holiday for shitty partners to try and make up for being shitty. I take them on dates and spoil them all the time, so why should I make a big deal about a random day in February?”

But because he wasn’t a shitty partner, he knows he has to do something for you

“Oi, do you want to go hiking?” he asks shortly on Valentine’s morning, already dressed for the occasion. “We can go to that spot you’ve wanted see for a while.”

You agree- eagerly.

You honestly weren’t the biggest fan of hiking until you started dating Bakugou, who’s obsessed with it

It’s like meditation to him- one of the best ways for him to find a calm and clear mindset- and the two of you always have your best conversations when you’re out on a hike

Plus he looks amazing in his hiking clothes

The trail in question is further outside the city than most, and when you arrive, it’s pleasantly deserted

With backpacks swung over your shoulders, the two of you start down the rough path, which cuts through a thick forest

When you first started hiking, you could barely keep up with Bakugou, but you had gotten much better at it over time and are now able to comfortably keep pace with him, even holding his hand part of the time

The trail is mainly uphill, though, and periodically he will all but force a water bottle into your hands

“Get a drink. I don’t want you getting all dehydrated on me.”

When you reach the peak of the trail, which is a flat clearing overlooking the city below, Bakugou indicates for you to sit down and pulls out two bento boxes that he had packed prior to the event

Though there’s nothing heart-shaped nor unnaturally red or pink inside, the box is sweetly filled with all of your favorite bento foods

And of course, they all taste amazing

“Katsuki, this is so good!”

“I know.”

“Come on.” You playfully push his arm, feeling his muscles rippling beneath his jacket. “Seriously, though, thank you. Life has been so crazy lately, and this little break was perfect.”

“So you’re not upset we didn’t do anything more, I don’t know...” he trails off, furrowing his brow and running a hand through his hair, “...on theme?”

“Of course not. Stuff like that is for shitty partners who use a holiday as an excuse to make up for being shitty. They’ll go right back to their behavior the moment the day is over.” You interlace your fingers in his and hold his arm with your free hand. “This was perfect.”

Bakugou can’t resist a smirk and short chuckle at your sentiment, realizing exactly why he’s with you

“Hey, what’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Kiss.”

You reach up and press your lips to his, and his arms wrap around your body, holding you close

When you pull away, you cast a glance out at the tranquil cityscape below and reluctantly check the time.

“Do you think we should head back down?” you ask.

“No. I want to stay here a little while longer.”

Todoroki Shoto

As one of the top heroes, Todoroki Shoto is a hard man to get alone, but you have high hopes for Valentine’s Day.

On the morning of February 14, the two of you check into the luxury hotel he had booked for a romantic staycation, awaiting an entire day of activities planned around the resort: lunch and dinner reservations, a couple’s massage, seeing the hotel’s nightly show...

Only for it to all be completely foiled before it even starts when Shoto gets an urgent call about a villain incident gone badly wrong, with as many heroes as possible desperately needed to help.

“Go ahead and do everything we had planned,” he urges as he’s leaving, rushing through a parting kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

But you know that it’s not going to be as simple as “I’ll be right back.”

The moment the door shuts behind him, you can’t help but turn on the TV and flip to the news, trying to find out just what Shoto had gotten himself into

The danger of the situation makes you sick with anxiety, and you have to turn it off almost immediately for the sake of your own sanity

Trying to follow his wishes, you go through the motions of the day you had planned, but instead of reaping the intended benefits of rest and relaxation, your brain is completely clouded with worry for Shoto’s safety

Which is only amplified when the hotel lobby has the news on with a crowd of people clumped together before it to see what’s going on, and the receptionist approaches you to ask if you’re alright

Dark falls with no sign of Shoto, but your heart leaps when you get the news notification that the battle is over

You turn the news back on for live coverage of the heroes that participated being interviewed about the events, but your stomach knots once again when you see no sign of Shoto

They haven’t mentioned any casualties, you wonder, but have they missed him or something?

When a knock echoes throughout the room, a cold feeling of dread washes over your body

You freeze and merely stare at the door, sure you’re about to receive the news that’s the worst nightmare of any partner of a hero

Until the door opens, and reveals Shoto holding a bouquet the size of his torso, looking a bit battered but otherwise alright

You launch yourself across the room, and he drops the flowers to engulf you in his arms

“God, Shoto,” you sob. “No matter how long I’ve been with you, waiting and worrying never gets any easier.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs back, stroking your hair. “But I’m here now. I’m fine. I ran here the moment I could get away.”

When you finally allow him to pull away, he hands you the flowers, and you call room service for a vase and a first-aid kit

You sit Shoto on the bed and tend to his minor wounds, then order some of your favorite comfort foods for a very late dinner

Shoto is never one to discuss his missions right after the fact, so instead you just talk about nonsense things, like the most recent episode of your favorite show to watch together, and where the two of you wanted to go on your next vacation

Afterward, the two of you lay in the dark, so tangled together that it’s nearly impossible to tell who’s whom

Neither of you are tired at all, realizing fully that the privilege of getting to hold each other like you are was almost taken away that day

You feel your eyes start to well up at just how much you love the man next to you, realizing how much you need him

Shoto seems to sense that you’re going to a dark place, so he traces his fingers lightly against your cheek and breaks the silence.

“I forgot to tell you. I extended our stay here so we can still celebrate like we were planning to. I’m sorry I had to go today.”

“Shoto, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cup his cheek back, a few tears spilling out of your eyes as they meet his. “I’m just so glad you’re safe and that you’re here with me.”

Yaoyorozu Momo

Recently, an adorable little paint-your-own-pottery studio had opened on yours and Momo’s route home

You two had always meant to go for a fun date, but never really had the time, so when a Valentine’s event is announced, you both leap at the opportunity and reserve your spots right away

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you and Momo show up half an hour early for the event, wearing coordinating shades of red and pink

Laughing at your accidental matching, the two of you kill the time until the event begins by taking a million photos together

When the doors to the shop open and you’re finally allowed in, Momo’s eyes nearly pop out of her head in excitement, and you just know it’s going to become a regular date spot for the two of you

The shop is decorated like a romantic tea shop straight out of a cheesy movie, with lace doilies marking work stations, faux roses as centerpieces, and red, white, and pink balloons covering the ceiling

The special event involves painting spindly teacups with handles shaped like hearts, the workstations supplied with punch and sweets, all colored and shaped for the holiday

“Look at these!” She exclaims, picking up the ceramic cup at her workstation. “What should we paint on them?”

“Why don’t we do a matching design?” you suggest. “That way we can remember this even better.”

“Yes, let’s do that!” she agrees. “What design should we do, then?”

You two decide to keep it simple: paint the mugs solid baby pink, stamp tiny red hearts all around, and then Momo would use her elegant handwriting and paint both of your initials in calligraphy on one of the faces.

You ready your stations and sit shoulder-to-shoulder as you work, chatting and giggling the entire time, occasionally nudging each other playfully with your legs

“Could you hold the cup at this angle for me while I do the calligraphy?” she requests, which gives you an excuse to sit even closer to her, the scent of her rosy perfume engulfing you

“I wish I had handwriting like that,” you whine, watching her paint the graceful swirls of your initials, followed by the date below.

“I can teach you,” she offers, coming to stand behind you. “Here.”

She puts her hand over yours, and guides it along in the shape of the letters, her free arm looping around the front of your shoulders in a casual hug

“See? You’ve done it!”

“It still doesn’t look nearly as good as yours.”

“Well, my heart stamps don’t look nearly as good as yours. I don’t think I applied enough pressure.” She returns to her own seat, stares at you for a few moments, then giggles. “Speaking of, you’ve got paint on your face. Come here.”

You lean forward so she can wipe off the paint with a gentle touch, and she places a kiss on the now-clean spot.

“There. All better.”

When the two of you finish painting the mugs, you turn them into the counter so they can be finished in the kiln, then sit by the window of the shop to enjoy your sweets while you wait

“I’m very excited about these cups,” Momo says, reaching out for your hand. “They’ll be a lovely little keepsake.”

“Me, too,” you agree, resting your head on her shoulder. “It’ll be nice to have tea in them every evening.”

“Exactly. And if there’s ever a time when we have to be separated, whether it be for hero work or some other reason, we can bring our cups with us to remember that the other is always there, waiting to come have tea together.”

Shigaraki Tomura:

Despite his villainous ideals, in romance, Shiggy is actually quite sweet, if not a little clumsy

When you first became close to him, his unhealthy lifestyle and lack of self-care worried you, so you made a habit of cooking for Shigaraki, and leaving a week’s worth of nutritious meals in the League’s fridge for him

He had never revealed this to you, but he appreciated it so much, and wanted to return the favor

When Toga mentioned something about Valentine’s Day, he knew that it was his perfect opportunity, and made his plans by ordering everyone of the League to get out and stay out for the night

He then did some research about something good to make you, wracking his brain to try and remember what you’ve mentioned liking, until he remembers a very important fact:

He can’t cook.

At all.

Has never even once tried.

Which poses an obvious problem.

He panicked for a few moments, until he landed on a new, and possibly better, idea

When you arrive for the date, dressed comfortably (because, as much as you love Shigaraki, you know that there’s no way you’ll be going out for Valentine’s Day), you’re a little bit surprised to find him standing in the kitchen

“Shiggy?” You approach the counter warily. “What are we doing tonight?”

“I can’t cook. I want to know how.”

“You want me to teach you how to cook?”

“Yes. I want to know how to make your favorite meal.”

“Okay. That’s simple enough.” You make to join him in the kitchen, but he blocks your path.

“No. I want to make this for you. Just sit down and...tell me what to do.”

That proves to be quite a bit more difficult, as you never truly understood just how hard it would be to explain cooking to someone that has never used more than a microwave before

The music you had put on in the background was quickly drowned out by his frustrated swears, and you can tell that there are times when he almost loses his temper, but holds it together for the sake of your Valentine’s gift

A couple of utensils do fall victim to his decay, though, and he subtly tries to sweep the remains away in embarrassment.

At one point, his poor knife technique leaves a decently sized cut on his finger, and you jump into action, running for a First-Aid kit

“I’m not a child,” he mutters as you clean the small wound, avoiding your eyes.

“I know,” you reply lightly, pressing a playful kiss to the bandage you had just secured.

As Shigaraki comes close to finishing the meal, you raid Kurogiri’s stores for your favorite bottle of wine, pouring two glasses and setting them out on the table.

“Does this look right?” Shigaraki asks once the final timer goes off, warily holding out his creation.

“You tell me,” you answer. “I’ve made this for you before. It looks the same to me.”

When the two of you sit down and portion out the meal, Shigarki neglects his own plate as he watches you take your first bite

You fight to keep your face neutral, because honestly, it’s god awful, even though you had been right there the whole time, telling him exactly what to do

But you really didn’t expect anything more from a first time-cook, and even though the flavor is completely wrong, you still enjoy it, because you can practically taste how much this prickly mass-murderer actually cares for you

And as twisted as your situation is, you wouldn’t change it for the world

“Is it good?” Shigaraki mumbles from across the table, pulling you from your thoughts.

You take a sip of your wine. “Thank you so much, Tomura. This was such a thoughtful gift. I really appreciate it.”

“I knew it. It’s shit.” He pushes his own plate away in frustration. “I just wanted to pay back a favor and I can’t even do that right.”

“Shig, what did I just say? I appreciate this so much.” You round the table to his seat, rubbing his shoulders and planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Of course your first attempt doesn’t work. But that gives us something new to do together. For tonight, we’ll order some takeout, but starting tomorrow, I’ll give you another cooking lesson, and then another, and another, and another... as many as it takes until you can make a whole meal for me by yourself. Deal?”

He meets your gaze with a puppy-dog expression, placing his palms over where your hands rested on his chest.

“Deal.”

Dabi/Todoroki Touya:

Let’s just say that Dabi isn’t one to ignore traditions.

He’s one to very openly and dramatically oppose them.

You were anxious if not a little worried to see what he was going to have planned for Valentine’s Day- but, honestly, as his partner, you’re equally as unconventional in your own ideals

And he doesn’t disappoint, coming home with tickets to a ghost tour at the most haunted spot in town.

“Do they even do these on Valentine’s Day?”

“Obviously. That’s when I got the tickets for.” He shrugs. “Apparently it’s a thing that people do.”

“Hopefully not very many people. You know how we hate crowds.”

“And hopefully it’s not overtly themed for this asinine holiday.” He takes your waist and whispers the next words in your ear. “The idea of a dark room and an invisible audience is romantic enough.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“I just made you more excited, didn’t I?”

“You’ll have to wait until the day to find out.”

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you dress for the occasion and meet Dabi at a glamorous hotel in an older part of town

Before the tour begins, the guide allows the guests to go to the bar for some drinks, and begin to tell the story of the hotel and the paranormal activity that had sparked the attraction

Dabi seems uninterested, taking in the architecture of the historic buidling and peering down random hallways

“I’m getting bored of this,” he mutters in your ear. “I’m ready to see something interesting.”

“Shh, Dabi, I’m trying to listen,” you whisper back.

He responds by pinching your ass. “So, are you in a naughty mood tonight? Noted.”

“Stop it,” you mutter, lightly pushing him away, but your flushed skin is a dead giveaway to how you truly feel about the situation.

When the tour actually starts, you and Dabi round out the end of the group as it descends into a long, dark hallway.

Eventually, you feel Dabi’s hand leave its spot around your waist, but you’re so distracted listening the tour guide tell stories at the front to even notice.

Until cold hands grab you from you behind and give you a violent shake, growling animalistically in your ear

You let out a terrified scream, but the laugh that comes after is all-too-familiar

“Dammit, Dabi!” you gasp, doubling over to your breath and quiet your heartbeat.

“Aha.” His hands trail down your sides and squeeze your waist. “Gotcha.”

You eventually reach the main event of the tour, which is an old storeroom that had been unused for years due to the intense paranormal activity

Dabi actually stood still next to you with his arm slung around your shoulders, interested for the first time that night as the guide used the ghost box and actually got answers from the spirits that occupied the room.

Though there are a few times when you have to stop him from pulling some prank to scare the other people taking the tour, trying to convince them that they’re actually in immediate danger of possession

When the event is over, however, and the guide is ushering people back down the hallway, Dabi pulls you into a closet, igniting a small flame on his palm and pressing a finger to his lips

When the noise of the crowd filing out is gone, he presses forward forcefully and starts to bury you in deep, passionate kisses

“Wait, wait.” You pull back once you realize what his idea is. “Isn’t this a little...scary?”

“Isn’t that what makes it fun?”

Aizawa Shota

Valentine’s Day happened to fall around one of Aizawa’s busiest times at UA, and he was so tied up and tired that you had barely seen one another lately.

So, when he remembers what’s coming up and drowsily asks you what you want to do for Valentine’s Day, you surprise him.

“I’ve already made plans for us,” you reveal, handing him a printed itinerary. “I booked us a spot at a day spa. Those are all the treatments we’ll be doing.”

“Why’d you choose this? I’m curious.”

“You need some time to relax, and I want to spend time with you when your mind is on something other than which one of your students is going to get broken next.”

“Fair enough.”

On the morning of, the two of you check into the spa, and are instructed to go change into the fluffy bathrobes they provided

“Do I really have to put this on?” he complains, holding it as one might hold a dirty diaper.

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask, already changed into yours.

“I don’t know how I feel about my chest being out on display like this.”

“Well, I’ll like it.” You snake your hand up his shirt and rake your nails down his skin. “C’mon. We’re going to be late for our couple’s massage.”

Once Aizawa has reluctantly changed, the two of you start off your day with massages and facials

You had arranged for him to get a special eye treatment, and the small sounds of relief from his table reveals that your gift is very much appreciated.

“Are you relaxed?” you inquire as you move on from the massage room to your next destination.

“More relaxed I’ve been since I stepped through the doors of UA for the first time.”

“Well, are you relaxed enough to get a hair treatment?”

“Honestly? Bring it on.”

When Aizawa is laying back in a chair, a towel wrapped around his head and a styling cape draped over his robe, you can’t help but snap photos of the slightly comical scene

“Are you taking pictures?” he grumbles.

“Do you mind that I am?”

“Just as long as my students never see it.”

“Noted,” you reply, adding the photo to an album of embarrassing pictures you planned to show them at the end of the term.

After finishing the hair treatment- Aizawa’s hair looking better than you could ever dream yours would- and moving on to a high-tech infrared light treatment, you finished out the day with a soak in the spa’s top-rate onsen, reserved for just the two of you

You sit in comfortable silence in the hot water, bodies pressed close to each other

Shota’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and you loosely held the hand that fell across your body

When you lay your ear on his chest, you notice that his heartbeat is the calmest you’ve ever heard it

“So, did the spa serve its purpose?” you ask, tilting your head up to gaze at him.

“It did. Though I think it was less the spa’s doing, and more the fact that I spent an entire day with you.”

You hum happily, reaching up and tapping his chin. “Nice and well rested now, are you? You sure look pretty.”

He chuckles lightly, running a hand through your hair. “So do you.”

“Well, there’s still about an hour left until our dinner reservation,” you observe, noticing the clock on the wall. “Is there anything you want to do to kill the time before then?”

“We’re both sitting in hot water, naked,” he replies matter-of-factly. “The answer should be obvious.”

254 notes · View notes