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seijorhi · 7 months ago

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Violent Delights

for my very dearest best friend (wife) @iwaasfairy i'm sorry it's super late, but august and april both start with 'a' which basically means they're the same month <33 iwaizumi hajime x female reader w.c 4.4k tw: yandere themes, non-con, drugged reader, blood/gore, murder, incest, sorta smut (nsfw)

M I N E

It’s funny in a way. Amidst the wreckage, the blood, what was left of your friends and the cooling puddle of cum splattered across your naked stomach, four letters carved into your bedroom wall seemed almost… harmless. Or at least the easiest to digest. Fixate on.

The detective asked about your ex partners, the dates you’d been on recently, whether or not you’d noticed anyone in your day-to-day paying you too much attention, if anyone made you feel uncomfortable, or said anything that seemed out of place.

But your exes don’t care enough to kill, and the two dates you’ve been on in the last six months never bothered to text you back. No one’s left weird, unsettling gifts, or stared too long in line at the coffee shop. There’s nothing. No precursor or warning, no giant red flag waving in front of you.

Mine.

Hovering on the edge of numbness, blind hysteria just out of reach, you stare at the beige walls of the hotel room they’d put you up in, the angry gouges flickering in and out of existence with every blink.

Mine.

Kaori was the one obsessed with all the true crime stuff. She’d be the first to tell you psychopaths and nutjobs – they don’t jump straight into drugging and triple homicide. There’s a pattern of behaviour. Escalation.

Something you missed.

Then again, considering it’s her blood still caked under your fingernails, there’s a strong possibility she wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic about the whole thing to begin with.

You need a shower, a proper one – not the glorified sponging off they’d given you at the hospital. Enough to get you out the door, not nearly enough to scrub away the grime and rid yourself of what he did to you–

The others had it worse. You survived. He barely touched you.

Mine.

The thought of scalding water, of scrubbing yourself raw does hold a certain appeal, yet hunched over atop starched white sheets, those same bloody fingernails sink into the flesh of your arms instead, grounding you in the tiny bite of pain.

Minutes tick past and you don’t so much as twitch. Not until a sharp knock sounds at the door and a gruff voice calls out your name.

You wait half a beat, but when nothing more is forthcoming, you slowly edge yourself off the bed, making your way to the door. Through the peephole you spy a dark haired officer, different to the one who’d dropped you off, staring back at you.

They did tell you there’d be an officer with you the whole time, at least for the next twenty four hours.

“Miss?” he calls again, and you distantly realise that while your hand is poised over the deadlock, you haven’t moved to undo it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your forehead meeting the wooden door with a muted thud, you curse that stupid, tremulous fluttering in your chest. They’re here for you, protecting you. You’re safe.

Open the damn door.

“Y-yeah?”

Coward.

“Brought some food for you. Dinner.” There’s a rustling on the other side, and you raise your head to peer back through the glass in time to see him lift up a paper carry bag to the peephole. The idea of eating anything right now has your stomach roiling in protest. “Nothing fancy, but it’s good, I swear,” he says. Then, gentler, like he’s talking down a spooked animal, adds, “You need to eat.”

Still, you hesitate. All you need to do is open the door, grab the food and then at least it’s there if you want it later. Easy.

Too quick, too jerky to be natural, you twist at the handle and yank the door open a scant few inches, enough for you to reach out an arm expectantly for the food. “Thank you,” you pre-empt, because hungry or not, you’re not completely without manners.

The officer lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no. I’m not taking heat from the Cap when the guys on the next shift find you passed out ‘cause you haven’t eaten anything,” he scoffs. “C’mon, we can talk while you eat.” Not a suggestion – you barely have time to stumble back before he’s pushing his way inside and kicking the door closed behind him. The second he takes to flick the lock somehow simultaneously eases the knots in your stomach and sends your heartrate ratcheting.

It’s halfway to a miracle that you’re still standing at all.

“Eat,” he tells you, his deep voice brooking no disagreement as he shoves the bag of food your way and grabs the lone chair in the room, dragging it closer to the edge of the bed and settling himself down. Clearly he has no intention of going anywhere until he’s satisfied you’ve eaten your fill.

With little else for it, you do as you’re told, reaching into the bag to find steamed buns at your fingertips, still warm as you pry open the wrapper– and wince. The familiar scent of pork, ginger and chives wafts through the air, unwittingly digging at old wounds.

Suddenly you’re a kid again, strolling down the hill with your family, one hand tucked safely within your brother’s, the other grasping a steaming hot bun. You’re happy and whole and so, so young–

“Something wrong? You don’t like meat buns?”

Not the time. Ignoring the bitter ache the memory conjures, you’re quick to shake your head, “No. No, thank you. It’s great.” You doubt he buys it, but then again you also doubt he cares so long as you get something in your stomach.

One bite, chew, swallow. Another, chew, swallow – mechanical until it isn’t. The first bun disappears and you reach for the second.

“How’s your head?” he asks.

You swallow down another mouthful. “Fuzzy. Sore. I still can’t remember anything,” you admit, in case that’s where this line of questioning is going. Nothing beyond waking up in your bed covered in blood and a stranger’s cum at any rate.

The blood work they did at the hospital confirmed you were drugged along with the others, the detective mentioning the near-empty bottle of wine they’d found, which they were in the process of testing too. He’d also pointed out the lack of evidence indicating any kind of forced entry, which paired with the former is something you’ve been trying not to dwell on.

The officer gives a considering nod, “That’s to be expected, don’t worry about it. I still think it’s worth asking a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it?” Again, it’s phrased like a question, but already he’s pulling out a voice recorder, setting down on the mattress between you.

“Um, sure. Yeah,” you croak.

A small smile, “Good.” He leans forward to switch on the recorder. “We’ll start with the other victims – your friends. Tell me about them.”

“Kaori, she’s– she was my best friend. We worked at the same grocer when I first moved out of my parents’ place, when I got a job here she made the decision to move with me. That was about six months ago.”

“And the other two?”

“Her brother Koji and another friend of ours Takashi. They came up to visit; Kaori’s been back once or twice since we left, but I hadn’t seen them–” tears blur at your vision and your voice just… gives out.

They’re gone.

You drag a shuddering breath in and it hurts.

Blindly, your hand reaches across the bed, blood tipped fingers sprawling over pristine white, and when they meet warmth – an open palm outstretched – you seize it and cling on with everything you have. You’ll unravel if you don’t.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you chant, each syllable shakier than the last.

He dips his chin, just barely, and squeezes your hand, “You invited them?”

A wordless, wide eyed nod.

“You were close.” Not a question. He sounds like he’s mulling over the thought, though his expression is inscrutable. “Were you involved with any of them?”

This time, there’s the slightest hesitation before you shake your head. The officer frowns, “I need the truth. Your friends were attacked for a reason. Lying to me won’t help bring their families peace.”

The blood drains from your face, your heart lurching on a sickening thud.

Your fault.

Instinctively, you yank back your hand, or try to at least, but his grip tightens – enough to keep you from drawing away, not enough to hurt. Though neither his tone nor his expression hold any condemnation, it doesn’t change the truth of the matter.

You didn’t drug them or pick up the knife and swing. You didn’t invite this psycho into your life, but the fact remains that they’re dead because of you.

“I– it wasn’t like that. We weren’t… I didn’t–”

MINE.

Tears threaten to spill and your bottom lip trembles.

For a long, drawn out moment, he simply stares. There’s a twitch at his jaw and he sighs – more of a grunt, really – leaning back and pulling his hand from yours to rake through his dark hair.

(Stupid, you think, how some part of you mourns the loss.)

“Okay, alright. Fine. We’ll come back to that,” he concedes. “What about other friends? Coworkers you were close with?”

“No, I– I already told the detective I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

An irritated flash darkens his gaze. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking them.” And you must make a truly pathetic picture then, flinching like a kicked puppy, because he lets out another huff, closing his eyes for a beat and visibly working to soften the harsh lines of his expression. “Shit, okay– I’m sorry. It’s been a long day for us both,” he makes an odd noise, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, the sound entirely devoid of humour. “The guy who did this, he either already knows about the people precious to you, or he’s gonna do his damn best to find out, and if he thinks they’re threats, he’ll hurt them, or worse – he’ll use them to hurt you. I need you to tell me everything.”

And so, feeling the exhaustion of the day creeping over you, you do.

You tell him about the small group from work you occasionally go out for Friday drinks with, your old friends from uni, right down to the neighbour two floors below, who’d seen you hauling boxes the day you’d moved in and immediately offered to help. When you’d christened the kitchen baking you’d made sure to bring him some, and just last week you’d had tea with him and his grandma.

“What about school? Anyone you still keep in contact with?”

You try for a laugh but it sounds all wrong. “I wasn’t exactly popular back then,”

His eyes narrow. They flit across your face like he’s searching for… something. You feel like a bug, pinned in place, squirming and uncomfortable, your face too hot.

“Bullied?” he probes.

Another nod.

“How ‘bout family?”

Your mouth dries.

“My parents… I haven’t spoken to them in months. We don’t really get along.” The last conversation you’d had with them, if you could call it as much, lasted all of five minutes. Dry pleasantries and thinly veiled criticisms, wrapped up in yet another pointed reminder that things didn’t have to be this way – you were the one adamant on shutting them out.

You doubt it’d raise a single eyebrow between them if you went the same again without contact.

“Siblings?”

Another tear slips from your lashes and you swallow against the tight lump in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels oppressive, you’re too bare, too vulnerable, you don’t want to talk about this, so you shift your line of sight to the paper delivery bag, half crumpled now, and let your fingernails sink into the skin of your palms.

Still, the words don’t come straight away, and when they do, they’re strained. Choked. Painted so thick is grief that you wonder if he understands them at all.

“No. I uh, I had a brother– a twin brother. He died.”

You don’t talk about your brother, ever.

Kaori knew the bare bones of it. Koji and Takashi too – you had a twin brother, he died, and it fucked you up. Without ever uttering a word, they’d known not to press, that the wounds left behind weren’t quite as healed as the scar tissue led to believe.

“How old were you?”

Seven, when you lost him. Twelve, when the letters stopped coming.

“Fourteen,” you whisper, curling in on yourself. “He was sick.”

Stop asking, stop talking, stop, stop, stop.

When you risk a look in the officer’s direction, his features are hewn granite, eyes set in a hard, angry glare that steals the very breath from your lungs. “Yeah?” he grunts, rising to his feet. “You stopped writing long before that.”

There’s just enough time for understanding to crash over you, for your lips to part, a feather light gasp of “Hajime?” to slip out before you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned to the mattress above your head, the officer– a ghost– Hajime looming over you.

“What did I fucking tell you?”

—

‘Sweetie, make sure you hold your brother’s hand.’

They’d meant when you were walking home from the bus stop, or crossing the road. When there was a buddy system so no one got separated or left behind.

Hajime was always holding your hand. Not because your parents told him to, but because that’s how it was supposed to be. You were twins, he’d been born first (by all of six minutes) and you had followed. You were always following Hajime, and he was always going to look after you.

Until he gets put into the Otter class with Mr Inagaki, and you go into Dugong with Miss Ino.

Hajime’s nothing short of enraged. He throws chairs and yells and tries to kick the Principal, but it doesn’t change anything.

It would be good for you, they said, to have a chance to make other friends. ‘You can’t keep using your brother as a crutch, honey,’ your mother gently admonishes.

Hajime scowls at that. Later, when it’s just the two of you hiding away in his room, he tells you she’s an idiot and a liar. ‘You don’t need anyone else. You have me.’

You knew that. You’d always have Hajime, but the other kids in your class weren’t as awful as he made them sound. Some of them were actually kind of cool, and they liked you, too.

For a while, you began to believe you could have both; Hajime and your new friends.

Until one day you’re waiting for him at lunch when a boy from your class tugs on your braids and with a wide, toothy grin, loudly proclaims to the whole playground that even though you were a girl, and girls have cooties, it’d probably be okay if you wanted to be his girlfriend.

You didn’t see Hajime coming up behind you. You’ve no idea where he found the scissors. The only warning either of you get is a sudden, splitting roar before he’s throwing himself at the smaller boy, tackling him to the ground.

‘She’s MINE!’

Silver glints, flashing in the sunlight, and a high pitched shriek rips through the playground as he brings the scissors down on the poor, struggling boy.

With a viciousness you’d never known of your brother, he swings again and again. It’s chaos. The other kids scatter and the teachers run to intervene. Hajime, spitting and snarling, red in the face and half-feral, doesn’t stop for them.

He stops for you.

At the sound of a sharp little gasp, a line of red slashed along your forearm, Hajime stops dead, wide, horrified eyes fixed on yours.

—

‘Sweetie, what have I told you about snooping? I raised you better than that.’

‘But they’re addressed to me. Hajime wrote to me.’

‘Your brother’s not well, those letters– they’ll only upset you. I don’t want you reading them.’

‘… He says he misses me.’

‘I know, but he’s where he belongs, getting help. You want that for him, don’t you? To get the help he needs?’

‘I want to write back to him.’

—

There’s another letter waiting for you when you get home from school.

You hang your backpack near the door, still damp from being tossed in the pool, and eye the opened envelope sitting by your father. He doesn’t look up from his laptop when you reach for it, doesn’t lift a finger to stop you. Nevertheless, the displeasure radiates from him clear as day.

“You shouldn’t encourage him. He’s not well.”

You’d scoff if it wouldn’t get you in trouble. Nothing you said could ever be taken as ‘encouragement’, and you’re under no illusions about who and what your brother is.

The violence terrifies you. Sometimes he says things in the letters he writes that make your stomach all twisty and your palms sweat, but Hajime could be a monster, and you think you’d love him anyway. You wouldn’t have a choice.

So you pluck at the envelope and tuck it close, making your way to your room without another glance at either of your parents. Sitting cross legged atop your bed, you eagerly scan the contents;

He hates the new therapist. They had a movie night planned, but some asshole started a fight and the whole thing got cancelled. The food’s still shit. He’s fed up and pissed off, whether he behaves or not, they won’t let him out and they won’t give him what he wants, so what’s the point in pretending?

The both of you turn twelve in ten days time – you owe it to him to come spend it together.

—

‘Maybe it’s for the best, sweetheart.’

Dismissive. She’s always dismissive. Your hands curl in response, tightening before you force yourself to flex them out and bite your tongue. It’s not worth the fight. Neither one of them actually care, and nothing you say will ever change that.

He’s angry at you. Or hurt. Both, probably.

They wouldn’t let you visit. You’d begged – cried, even – and it hadn’t swayed them. The rules are that you aren’t allowed to go and see Hajime and you aren’t allowed to talk to him on the phone. The letters are the only communication you have, and when your twelfth birthday comes and goes, those stop too.

You’ve sent four letters since, no response.

He’s shut you out entirely and while you can’t blame him for it, it’s painful.

You’ve always had Hajime, through everything. Him shutting you out feels like losing a limb–

No, it’s more than that. It’s like slowly losing some vital function inside of you. Like your lungs are shutting down and you can’t breathe properly and your heart isn’t pumping the way it should. You feel guilty and horrible and at least twice, you debate trying to find a way to sneak out and make the two hour journey on your own, just so you can see him.

It’s a stupid idea, they wouldn’t even let you through the front door, but it’s the only idea you have and so you cling to it.

You keep writing to him– panicked. Desperate. Begging his forgiveness.

He never writes back.

—

They sit you down at breakfast three months after your fourteenth birthday and tell you Hajime’s gone.

There was another fight, someone pushed him–

You don’t want to hear the details. They don’t matter and your ears are ringing too loud to make sense of them anyway.

Hajime is gone.

The cord between you was stretched and fraying already. He hadn’t written in over two years and probably hated you towards the end but he– he was–

Yours. A part of you.

Gone.

And your mother’s asking about the English test you have second period.

—

“What. Did. I. Say?” Each word is slowly enunciated, a quiet growl that drags an unwilling shiver down your spine.

He smells of wood – of cedar, spice and musk, the notes melding, coiling with the dizzying body heat, the solid weight of him, bracing himself above you.

His lips are mere inches from yours.

Not dead.

Here.

There’s a thousand thoughts racing through your head, connections that light up, clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle, painting a deeply unsettling picture – all of which are drowned out by the revelation that Hajime is here.

You burst into tears–

and Hajime – your brother, very much alive and glaring at you from above – surges down to swallow them in a vicious kiss.

The moment your lips touch, all the tension in his body just… bleeds out. Hajime groans, low and heated, his hips rocking, grinding along your stomach, and if you weren’t too preoccupied short circuiting, dangling on the precipice of a panic attack, you’d feel the twitch of his mouth, curling into a small but no less satisfied smirk.

He relaxes, like he’s coming home rather than returning from the dead to land the killing blow.

“Mine,” he answers his own question, breath heavy and ragged as his teeth nip at your jaw. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

The scratches on the wall. Kaori and Koji and Takashi, asleep in a sea of red. The viscous mess spilled over your belly. Your mother’s hushed voice, carrying down the hallway, ‘– only a phase. The books all say he’ll grow out of it before long.’

She hadn’t sounded convinced.

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to block it all out as more tears spill into your hairline. Hajime won’t let you. He groans your name into the shell of your ear and licks at the tears as they fall. “Don’t,” he warns, fingers pressing tightly around your wrists ‘til they shoot back open with a gasp, “don’t you dare check out.”

When he rucks up your shirt to find you sans bra and a warm palm slides up to grope the soft, supple skin, a fresh burst of panic spurs you into action. Pinned under his weight as you are, you can’t move, and the idea of trying to physically fight him off is as laughable as it is terrifying – but when you were younger, you were the one – the only one – who could coax Hajime back from the edge, your hand in his.

Until he leapt from it entirely, and they took him away.

“H-Hajime?” A trembling, hiccuping whimper, thick with tears.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause – shuffling down your body to mouth at them instead – but hooded, simmering pools of green flick back up to your face, a hum of acknowledgement rumbling in his chest as he nips and sucks pretty, burgundy blooms across your breasts.

“I-if you ever loved me, even a little… Please, Haji– don’t hurt me like this–” you choke on another sob, pathetic mess that you are.

Hajime goes preternaturally still, eyes boring into you.

You stare right back, fighting the urge to cower and flinch, to turn your cheek and stare at the discarded dumpling wrappers, letting him take what he wants. Praying that he won’t hurt you too badly if you give it to him without a fight.

Because it will hurt, you think. It’ll break you entirely.

(Are you not already broken?)

When his head drops, you can’t help it – the sharp, terrified hitch in your breath – but his lips meet your forehead, then each cheek, before finally they brush over your lips with a tenderness he has no right to. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he vows, cradling the side of your jaw, “I won’t hurt you, ever.”

But that’s a lie, too.

“I love you more than anything.”

He kisses you again, soft and sweet and gentle, as if those promises weren’t sewn from violence and legitimised in blood. As if he isn’t breaking your heart with every sweep of his tongue, plundering your mouth.

There’s no fight in you left when he reaches for the waistband of your sweats and slowly starts easing them down. You don’t claw and shove when the hold on your wrists loosens and then disappears entirely, both hands needed to strip away his clothes.

The sound of his belt buckle clinking, the soft hiss of a zipper, they wash over you, white noise lost to the pounding in your ears.

But you don’t look away.

He strokes his cock – long and thick and flushed to the tip – crawling up the mattress to kneel between your legs like a supplicant before an altar of the divine.

Devotion demands sacrifice.

“It killed me,” he starts, dragging the mushroom head along the slit of your pussy. He frowns a little, leans back and spits – a fat glob of saliva landing dead centre, adding to the mess his weeping cock’s already made. “When the letters stopped coming. I was angry, so fucking angry, all the time. I’d lash out and they’d put me in another cage, and I’d do it again, and again. They tried convincing me you’d moved on,” his eyes flash darkly, “which was bullshit. They’d have to carve me out of you with a knife.”

What shocks you isn’t the violent imagery, but the truth of it settling into your bones, inescapable and undeniable; you’ll always love your brother, even if that very love destroys you.

“I didn’t–”

The first thrust rips a strangled yelp from your throat.

He’s too big, you’re not prepared to take him – and Hajime doesn’t care. His head tips back, shuddering out a breathy laugh.

There’s no pause, no period of grace, seated deep inside of you, the walls of your pussy hugging him tight, Hajime won’t allow you a second to catch your breath and wait for the burning sting to abate. His hips draw back until only the throbbing head of his cock remains inside, and, upon grabbing a leg to hitch over his shoulder, uses it as leverage to punch forward, stuffing your tight little cunt to the brim.

The pace he sets is brutal from the outset. Bruising. He licks at your tears between kisses and moans when you clench and shudder around him. “Never again,” he pants into your ear. “I’ll kill them all if you leave. Every last fucking one. You’re mine. Mine.”

And you’d think it cruel, a punishment, if not for the way those green eyes burn.

When his fingers twine with yours, pressing you down into the mattress, holding you there, you wonder if this was always an inevitability.

Hajime led and you followed, hand in bloody hand.

He’d never allow anything less.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere iwaizumi #tw: noncon

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crossingthedreams · 5 months ago

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do better — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: I got a little carried away, per usual, and now I’m late with day 04 of the angstober challenge (still a wyp), but I plan on finishing it and posting later today. but, omg, I can’t believe I'm posting day 05 — do better on time! this is also part of @angstober‘s challenge, which I'm having a blast writing. I do love some angsty vibes. please, feel free to comment or dm me!

summary: a relationship between the boss and his employee has a million ways to go wrong. one, in particular, hurt them the most.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: angst. House is an asshole. mentions of family death. mentions of cancer. struggles with immigration. inappropriate relationship. mentions of smut.

Let medicine be thy food.

That's the quote, or at least you think it is. After a particularly long shift, words in English seemed to scramble together a bit, with it being your second language and all. Usually, you’re a natural, perfect, fluent speaker. There are moments, however, when understanding what your peers are saying or formulating cohesive sentences becomes a herculean task. You didn’t make yourself unintelligible, but it was a little awkward to be with a patient who clearly had no idea how globalized the world was and how many doctors in the United States were not native English speakers, and who looked at you like you had just robbed the white coat from a “proper doctor”.

Sure, dealing with people was shitty sometimes. “Doctors don’t treat people, they treat illnesses”, your boss had once said. But in your mind, people weren’t that bad. The long hours, the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life — that was the really bad part. And there were, of course, the very short lunch breaks.

Medicine was fun, but it had nothing on a full plate of pasta with those weird looking meatballs. What once was disgusting, now seemed appetizing as hell. Not eating once while working for the whole night could do that to a person. Medicine was not food, at least not literally.

You had taken off your sweater and your white coat a while before going to the cafeteria, where the rest of the team was. As of right now, you and Chase had spent thirty-six hours working. Cameron and Foreman had taken the long straws and gone home last night while you and the prettiest doctor around worked on some lab tests.

That man who, right now, was not really trying to hide how he lustfully eyed you up and down, stopping on your cleavage. You didn’t blame him for looking, though. Firstly, you did spend the night working together and you mentioned that you did not have sex for the last six months, and secondly, you had nice boobs, which was both a blessing and a curse. Also, he was very much exhausted. Thinking about your coworkers in an unfashionable manner to keep awake was better than falling asleep atop of a patient during a lumbar puncture — you had done both, so you could tell, oops.

“I’ll die if I have to do any more thinking”, the pretty doctor said, accent even more prominent, letting his head drop to the headrest of his seat behind him.

“Yes, thinking just doesn’t come naturally to some people”, you laughingly replied, sitting down next to Foreman. He scooched over, making more room for you and your tray. There was enough pasta on your plate to feed two, not to mention the salad, the dessert, the can of Coke and the can of energy drink.

“Damn, kid, do you not have food at home?” You eyed Foreman, a little annoyed at the comment. Why did men think they had the right to comment on women’s food choices and bodies all the damn time? “Don’t give me that look, you know that’s a lot, especially for a girl who skips lunch every other day”.

“Not by choice” you said, taking a lot of pasta into your mouth. “Nof ba chos”, you replied, mouth full, making everyone at the table let out a tired laugh.

It was an uneventful meal. The team was really tired, especially Chase, who almost dropped his head on his plate twice. The four of you rushed upstairs when lunch was over, after being paged by your boss.

The man himself was pacing back and forth in the conference room, brows furrowed and looking extremely aggravated. Nothing new, then, you think, sitting down across from Cameron.

Allison Cameron and you had been friends since med school, and getting to work together was pretty nice. Women in STEM need each other, of that you were sure. The thing is, she was in a weird place romantically, which made you feel weird about getting along with the people about whom she was confused — which hardly makes sense, but it is what it is. She had a crush on your boss for the longest time, and that didn’t work out at all. And then there was Chase, who she had slept with, but had no interest in further pursuing.

Hanging out with Chase knowing he’d seen her naked was a little weird, but the fact they’d slept together wasn’t the problem. He liked her, and that was her problem. Your boss, well, he was everybody’s problem.

Particularly yours, considering… you know. The one-night-that-became-every-night. The HR-nightmare. The doing-the-devil’s-tango. The seeing-each-other-scars. The kissing-and-absolutely-not-telling.

It was fairly easy sneaking around. He was inappropriate, sure, but not big on PDA. He treated you like any other dumbass employee with boobs. If anyone saw the two of you leaving the hospital together? You worked together. If you were seen going towards the same place? You’re neighbors, duh. And if anyone happened to see the two of you having breakfast together in the little café a block around his place? Well, it was a coincidence meeting him there!

If they saw you giving him head while he tried to play the piano, well… There’s no explanation for that.

You looked at him coming and going, and you knew his leg must be killing him. Yesterday when you left his home in the morning to pick up your stuff for the day (which turned out to be the day, the night and the next day), he was popping more pills than usual. Shit.

“New case?”, Cameron asked, looking at the limping man with worry and care in her eyes. You liked her a lot, but she had to stop thinking about your limping man with such care.

Sure, she liked him first. And she probably worried for him just as she would anyone else. And it was ridiculous to be annoyed at your long-time friend for caring for her boss. Still, there was a sting of jealousy that made you want to bitch-slap her.

He finally stopped and looked at all of you. When his eyes finally met you, he looked right at your low cut top and let out a “Yowza!”. When you blushed and stood up to pick your white coat, he called your last name, and said, nonchalantly: “Nice boobs”.

You raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you sat down. It might seem like sexual harassment — and at first, it was a little bit —, but now it was just him being as inappropriate as always. Hiding from his feelings, keeping his distance with pathetic remarks and cold attitudes. It made you sad when you started working for him, but right now, you pinched your nose to stop you from giggling like a sixteen year old cheerleader being noticed by the boy on the football team. Or rather, the boy on the bench cursing at the stupid players.

Dr. Gregory House had a massive crush on you, and that made all the shit he did go away.

You realized Chase started updating House on the patient you spent all night testing and monitoring. Truth is, that guy didn’t stand a chance for a normal life here on forward. At best, he had a benign hereditary chorea. Worst case scenario, it was Huntington manifesting earlier than it should, as you’d been saying from the beginning.

“Shut up”, House said to Chase, making those blue Australian eyes widen. Poor guy, he looked beyond exhausted. “I understand how DNA testing works. I went to med school too, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was seven hundred years ago”, you let out before you could think twice. You teased House a little for being older. Scratch that, you gave him a lot of crap for being older. You just didn’t do it in front of the team, which was why they all looked at you horrified.

Horrified, but Foreman was holding in a laugh.

The ‘old-man’ hit his cane on the desk, turning the attention back to him. “Ouch”.

You smiled, playing it off like a remark made by an exhausted overworked young woman who disliked her boss. House half-screamed some orders to all of you, even though he already knew you had clinic duty.

The hours left to finish on the clinic were manageable, so you could finish it after you did some of the tests House asked.

Time passed by too quickly, and as your day went by, you remembered you had to talk to Wilson as soon as possible. It wasn’t a life or death matter, but a peace of mind kind of thing. You decided to stop by his office before you It was then that you overheard something you shouldn’t have.

Well, that brought the high school memories right back.

It was the middle of the afternoon, also known as the beginning of your third shift in a row, and you were stopping by Wilson’s office to discuss a private matter. A family member of yours had cancer, and then another one. By the time your fourth relative came down with the diagnosis, you decided to check your genetic predisposition. Although the tests came back clean, meaning you were safe for oncology purposes, you still wanted to know his opinion on how you could be even safer.

You looked cancer in the eyes many times. You didn’t want to look at it in the mirror too.

For some godly reason, you stopped before knocking. That’s when you recognized your boss’s voice, complaining about something, per usual.

“She’s a baby! She had never watched Grease, for crying out loud”, the voice and the footsteps made their sounds in harmony. You leaned in closer to the door, to try and listen better.

“Well, you two barely know each other, now it’s the time to know if there’s a future in this relationship or not. And would you ever marry her?”, Wilson’s voice, and the words made you freeze.

“Not everyone has marriage on the brain 24/7, Wilson”, House replied. Even from behind the door, you could almost hear the engines in his brain turning. “And God, no. I could never marry her. I can do better than a gullible third-world princess”.

You froze.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. Even if he didn’t mean it.

The realization came like an electrical shock flowing through your body. You felt it, and it made the hairs on the nape of your neck rise.

You meant nothing to him.

As an immigrant, the feeling of never belonging is constant. You don’t belong in the place you now live, but you don’t really belong in the place you were born.

You had felt for a fraction of a second that you could find your place here. In House's department. Perhaps, even with House. God, you were stupid. You were a device for him to finish his puzzles, and an object to finish… Well, to finish himself off.

As you left your transe and heard the voices again, you ran as fast as you could back to the clinic, where you had a couple hours left to finish. There was something you needed to arrange with Cuddy, too.

Hours later, you were in the department’s room reading some exams when House walked in.

He eyed you up and down again, eyes lingering on your breasts a little longer than a boss’ eyes normally would. “So”, he took his bootle from his jacket and opened it, popping a couple of pills, “your place or mine?”

“You suck”, you murmured, angrily, but pouting a little. He’d never admit it, but he loved seeing you a little aggravated, crossing your arms in front of your body in a way that made your already eye-catching torso irresistible.

He smiled a little, putting the medicine back in his pocket. “No, sweetheart”, he now fully grinned, “that’s you.”

You rolled your eyes, but let your arms fall and a cold smile creeped into your face.

“Yes, I do, actually”, you rose up from the chair and walked all the way towards him, hitting your hand towards his chest and pressing the paper you were holding against him. “I’m a full on sucker, and ass-kisser, as you like to point out. That’s why your so called mortal enemy offered me a job in New York”.

He took the paper, blue eyes never leaving yours.

“Consider this my two weeks notice”. It was hard to say, but it felt a little good, too. Logically, there were no downsides in this opportunity. Then, why did it hurt so much? “I guess everyone was right. I can do better”.

The double meaning was not lost on House.

Your hand finally left his chest, and he didn’t look back as you left.

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple. It never is, though, is it? Especially with House. And you, an intelligent, kind, talented and ambitious young woman, could definitely do better than attach yourself to a crippled, bitter, odious older man.

You were doing better now. So, why, pray tell, why did this still hurt so much?

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jasmines-library · 1 year ago

Note

Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭

Kitchen Antics

Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.

“Hm?”

“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin.

That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look.

“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.

“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes.

You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you.

Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.

Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that.

“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.

“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”

Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.

“Is my cooking really that bad?”

He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.

“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.

“Psh…No.”

Bruce was a terrible liar.

“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece.

Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”

Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything you could ever need.

Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake.

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

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solarsturniolo · 7 months ago

Text

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 // 𝔖𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯!ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰

©Solarsturniolo 2024

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who only bought kneepads and a helmet after you showed concern for him after a bad tumble. Because, even though he doesn’t care much about his safety, he knows that you do. He’d rather get hit by a car than putting you through the stress again; seeing the way your hands shook as you cleaned up his cuts and the way your eyes watered as you refused to look at him. He decided some safety gear was a good investment.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who holds your hands to keep you steady while you practice on his board. “Easy, you’re thinkin’ too much about it, just imagine your feet are goin’ right through the board into the ground…there ya go-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who doesn’t like to sleep alone, so he’ll facetime you or invite you to come ‘hang out’ which will inevitably end in a sleep over. “No I know you slept over last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, but just hear me out-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who shares his food with you no matter where you go. He’ll give you shit for it, but you both know he doesn’t care. It almost feels intimate to him, sharing something of his with you and only with you. His brothers will tease him for it later, but all that matters to him is seeing the way your face lights up as he pushes his plate towards you.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who claims your music taste is lame, but will make a playlist of his favorites that you’ll play and listen to it on his late night rides.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who has carved your initials into the underside of his board. He covers it with a sticker, knowing if his brothers found it he’d be cooked. But he hopes that one day he won’t have to hide it anymore.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who is consistently trying to impress you. Whether it’s with a new trick he learned, a photo his brothers took of him, or whatever it ended up being. He feels like he doesn’t have much to offer, so he tries to impress you by being cool.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who can’t sleep on the nights when you’re not available, his thoughts eating away at him as he lies awake in bed. Tossing and turning, groaning as he looks at the alarm clock to see that only ten minutes have passed since the last time he checked. He hates it, he wants you there with him. He felt so empty and alone without you there.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who never forgets a special occasion, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem to others. From birthdays, to holidays, to National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day, Chris remembers every day that is important to you.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who can tease you and mess with you, but would knock anyone else out if they tried doing the same.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who talks about you to his mother so much, she is convinced you’re both married with three children. A boy doesn’t just randomly swoon over a girl for hours to his mother on the phone. “She told me the funniest story the other night when she stayed over-“ “She stayed over again? What is that, four times this week?” “…..anyways, she-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who has a raccoon brain and will see something shiny or cute and just has to bring it to you. “A…spoon?” “A tiny spoon! And it has a little pink bow on the end, see!”

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who loves coming over to your house. He swears on his life it’s just because of the atmosphere, but you know it’s because of your pets. He never forgets to greet them upon arrival, and always says (a very lengthy) farewell before he leaves.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who spends six long torturous hours trying to write you a cute note or a poem. His trashcan piled high with drafts that he crumpled and tossed away, because he wanted it to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who complains when you beg him to let you do his makeup, but secretly loves having you so close to him. The comfortable silence, the brief eye contact, the way you gently dab and brush the different products onto his face. The tightening feeling in his stomach as you lean closer, making sure to be extra gentle around his eyes. He would never admit it in a million years, but part of him wants to ask you to do his makeup every time you come over.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who sends you a fit check every. single. day.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who sends you pictures of the animal friends he makes on the nights he goes out skating with his friends.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who cusses often, except when you invite him over to your place. He tends to watch his language when he’s over, not wanting to ‘influence the children’, in reference to your pets.

Reblog divider by @adornedwithlight

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘: @flowerxbunnie @megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @sturniolofan4lifee @oversturn @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @sturns-4-life @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44-deactivated202408 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovelybrokenheal @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275

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lightseoul · 1 month ago

Text

CHAPTER 7 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.3k (jesus. this is the longest one yet)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, slightly nsfw themes, mentions of food, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings, feelings—lots of 'em, the true calm before the storm, shit's about to go down!!!

a/n. we're so back, y'all!!! this one took me a while, i have to admit. it even got to a point where i thought i'd just leave this series unfinished for a plethora of reasons. but after clawing through a few sessions of barely being able to write anything, i was struck with the vision of how to get the chapter going in the middle of a massage lol. the rest was history. that said, i'd love to know your thoughts so far, so please don't be a stranger <3 (comments keep me going. btw. not to sound like a slut)

links. masterlist, ao3

You ended up not getting home until past 8 PM that Monday.

After you successfully used your quirk on Kirishima and Hiroto, resulting in the transfer of that fated scrap of paper containing the attack’s details, Kaminari insisted that you hang out after lunch and make the most of your day off until everybody relented. Bakugou was uncharacteristically quiet—you noted—even as the electric hero whisked the six of you away to the nearest mall where you shopped and visited a KTV spot afterward.

You didn’t expect to spend hours watching the four goof off and sing their hearts out while Bakugou sat silently to the side, although time passed by faster than you thought it would anyway. The group eventually parted ways at around 6 PM, after which you and Bakugou decided to eat at a ramen restaurant where you sat yourselves by the counter so you wouldn’t have to force conversation.

Hiroto shadowed the two of you the entire time, up to the instant when you and Bakugou entered a darkened spot in the outdoor parking lot to wait for the twin to message Kouki and have the old man teleport you back to headquarters. You didn’t have to wait for too long—you were gone and right back at the front of your bedroom in a matter of minutes, bug-less and cameras covered another minute after.

And only as you stripped off your going-out clothes for the day in the privacy of the bathroom did it sink in—how you actually did it.

You actually transmitted the message.

And as much as it fucking sucks, the most you can do now—at least until D-Day—is to put your faith in Kirishima and the rest of the pro-heroes who will be tasked with stopping this act of genocide altogether.

Easy enough…

Right.

The next day—Tuesday—starts typically as the others have transpired in the last two weeks-ish of living in the headquarters: violently woken by a twin’s knocking, then scrambling to seem like you were sharing the bed, to promptly getting ready for and having breakfast at the mess hall.

Just like how every day’s been in this supremacist hellhole, everything goes by like clockwork.

That is, up until Omiru walks up to your usual table just as you are about to take your last chug of water after downing your substantial plate of pancakes.

You peer at her from over the rim of your glass, cautious—and rightfully so. Beside you, Bakugou puts down his utensils and straightens up in his seat. Neither of you says anything, opting to let her speak first instead.

And when she finally does, she’s looking straight at no one but Bakugou.

“Follow me.”

At that, you glance at the pro-hero in question, who only shoots the twin a stern look before nodding curtly. You watch him as he gathers his tray and stands up, and you’re about to move and follow suit when Omiru’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Not you,” she spews pointedly. “Just him.”

From where you are half-sitting with your ass frozen mid-air, you blink at the woman. “What?”

“Masaki-san needs him at the private training facility, pronto,” comes her terse reply, sounding more impatient by the minute. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

Your face contorts in displeasure before you can think better against it. Then, schooling it into a more neutral expression, you shake your head as you finally straighten up, willing your voice to stay firm. “Whatever you have to say to him you can say to me, too.”

Omiru opens her mouth to most likely snap at you for wasting more and more of her time, but she doesn’t get to do that because you’re both silenced by a sudden hand on your forearm. You whip to look at Bakugou, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he nods again—only this time, at you—as if that was all the explanation you needed.

“It’s okay,” he offers, his voice low. “I’ll come and look for you by the time we’re done.”

You can only stare at him, tamping down the incredulity that’s creeping up your throat.

Since when did he decide to be Mr. Calm and Collected?

As much as you want to, you don’t question him, though, knowing it will cause more harm than good. You’re so close to the day of the operation, and the last thing you need is to blow your cover.

So instead, and with a wary heart, you nod back at him, before leaning in and pressing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Take care, babe,” you say timidly, grateful he took the kiss just now like a champ—with little to no faltering.

“I will,” comes his weirdly soft response, before he steps out of his seat and trails behind Omiru, leaving you and your tray of empty plates.

You move to tuck the stretchy fabric into the rest of the contorted arrangement you’ve got going on—folding your panties was the most you could think of doing to keep your mind off the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you the entire day, after all—and plop it on your pile of fresh undergarments.

Or at least, you were going to do that, when the door to your bedroom suddenly bursts open, and you startle so badly, that the neat stack of underwear crumbles like a poorly built Jenga tower on top of the bed.

You scramble to hide them behind you just as Bakugou emerges from the hallway, and the very first thing that registers when your eyes land on him is that he’s fucking drenched.

In sweat. Drenched in sweat.

And, to your chagrin, he must’ve noticed you gaping at him because his gaze drifts over to meet yours after he closes the door behind him. “What?”

You blink at him, suddenly yanked out of your dumb stupor. “Nothing—it’s just…” you trail off, now trying to ignore the weirdly scandalous way his wet shirt is clinging to his muscled torso. You knew his hero costume accentuated and therefore showcased a built body from the chance encounters about him in the news, but seeing it through an almost translucent cover-up…

“Just what?”

You gulp, bringing your eyes back up to meet his unnervingly scrutinizing ones.

…Why is he looking at you like that?

Instead of dwelling on the thought, though, you manage to voice out the question you and the imaginary mouse in your pocket are wondering. “W-why are you so… sweaty?”

Now, if he’s offended by how that came out just a breadth’s hair away from sounding disgusted, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he crosses the short distance between him and your small wardrobe and flings it open.

“I thought you were smarter than that, princess,” comes his casual reply, and you find yourself stiffening—not just at the nickname, but at what came before that.

You frown, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. “I don’t get how you’re being so nonchalant today,” you say so honestly you shock yourself, voice lowered out of instinct despite having made sure that there are no extra bugs in the room.

Whatever Bakugou expected for a response—it must’ve been anything but that—because he stops rifling through his clothes and whips to look at you, a mild expression of surprise written across his features.

But before he can say anything to that, you beat him to it. “What did they make you do, Bakugou?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses before he can get a word out. You watch the man as he stands there for a second, the metaphorical gears in his head spinning loud enough that you can practically hear them. You can tell they’re still turning a beat later, even as he closes the wardrobe behind him and turns to fully face you.

“I—” he starts, hesitant, “I thought you would’ve figured.”

“Figured what?” You’re getting impatient now.

“That I was called on to start making the bombs.”

Oh.

The realization dawning on you must be evident in your profile because Bakugou nods as if in confirmation. “I was anticipating they’d call me in sooner or later, so I wasn’t surprised when that twin approached us during breakfast.”

Fuck, you feel stupid.

How you’re feeling is none of Bakugou’s business, though, so you will yourself to dip your head to show you understand. “I totally forgot about the bombs,” you admit.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you,” he turns again and resumes busying himself with the cabinets. “They did their research and found out my bombs are more explosive the fresher they are. Explains why they waited ‘til the last minute.”

Huh.

“I guess that also explains why you look like an over-glazed doughnut.”

That makes him bark out a laugh. “More like a wet dog, but I’ll take that.”

You’re about to say that no, he definitely looks more like an over-glazed doughnut, but then you remember you’d rather fail this mission and cause massive destruction before you go off admitting he looks…maybe just a tiny bit delectable in this state.

You’re back to avoiding the sight of…him—altogether—in silence, when Bakugou glances at you over his shoulder. “Can you pass me my towel?”

“Sure,” you say as you fetch it from where it’s hung across the couch’s backrest before padding back toward him.

You hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Now it’s your turn to stand somewhat awkwardly behind him as he finishes up gathering his change of clothes for the night. There’s one more thing you need to ask him.

Anytime now.

You take a sharp inhale just as he whirls to face you, expectant. You muster a small smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was just gonna ask—they didn’t hurt you, did they? You were treated okay?”

Your stomach instantly drops when the expectant look just now morphs into a smirk. “I think you underestimate my ability to protect myself, princess.”

You feel yourself flame. “I—” you stammer, wildly caught off guard, and his grin widens. You then frown, resigned. “Come on, man, not cool.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, sounding far from apologetic, “‘m sorry. Though, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“That’s it,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, spinning to gather your folded underwear that are still scattered on the bed. “They can go ahead and snip off your balls, for all I care.”

“Damn, that escalated quickly.”

You only toss him a sarcastic smile as you take up the spot beside him, opening your tiny drawer and dumping the articles into them before he can get a closer glimpse. The last thing you need is for him to see your threadbare, granny panties.

Bakugou chuckles again, the indication of his mirth the last sound that echoes in the room before a quiet envelops the two of you, the atmosphere taking a sudden shift.

“How about you, huh?” he suddenly asks, almost making you jump. You raise an eyebrow at him, still not quite past his earlier teasing.

He doesn’t react with hostility, though, only shrugging in response. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” you parrot lamely, shocked at his query.

To your disbelief, he doesn’t roll his eyes or shoot you a derisive quip, only nodding—an unmistakable, serious glint in his crimson gaze. You gulp despite yourself.

“It was pretty much the same for me, I guess. Except there weren’t as many people around…”

You falter, debating whether or not you should tell him the more incriminating truth. But then you make the mistake of meeting his penetrating stare and then suddenly, it all comes tumbling out.

“I—I was worried about you.”

That takes Bakugou by surprise, his brows shooting up in a profound display of bewilderment. An abrupt pang of embarrassment shoots through you at the sight, and you scurry to save face.

“Looks like there was no need, though, considering how you’re joking around and being an ass and all,” you jest, taking the hoodie you were meaning to get from the rack and closing your side of the wardrobe.

“I—”

“Good night, Bakugou,” you cut him off, plopping yourself on the couch with your back turned against him, effectively shooting the conversation down.

Needless to say, you struggle to sleep that night.

As if she knew you fell into a fitted slumber and needed more goddamn sleep, Omiru was already up and banging at your door five minutes earlier than usual the morning after, ripping you out of your sluggish haze. It didn’t help that it was your turn on the couch that night—which, even after all this time of dozing there, still proved to be quite unforgiving to your neck and lower back, especially. Once you were all ready and had opened the door, though, your usual routine was done but not before a rundown on what was to happen that day. You were to pack your things and prepare to leave the headquarters by the time Bakugou was done producing the last batch of bombs.

She conveniently didn’t say when that was, opting to whisk Bakugou away instead.

So without any idea as to when you were making the move, you tried your best to keep busy—a task that proved to be herculean, seeing as how the number of people present had dwindled significantly, you could count them with just your fingers and toes.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why that was. The people who’ve gone—they were all teleported to their posts to prepare for tomorrow’s attack.

By batches.

Because, as it turns out, you were right. Kouki’s quirk does have a limitation.

He can only muster enough power to teleport a certain number of people—across a certain distance—a handful of times a day. It all depends on three factors: number, distance, and frequency.

And because Bakugou’s got important business as the organization’s very own human-bomb factory, you two will be transported later in the day as part of the last batch.

You mull over this newfound information—again and again, mainly because there really isn’t much else to do other than pack—until, unbeknownst to you, the clock on the wall strikes five. You jump from where you are seated on the sofa when, as if on cue, the door bursts open, revealing a yet again sweaty Bakugou, with Kouki and the twins tailing closely behind him.

“Just let me take a quick shower and finalize my stuff,” Bakugou offhandedly says, eyeing you as he picks up his towel, not wasting even a modicum of a second. “Then we’ll get going to my place.”

His what?

“Sorry?” you manage to ask, acutely aware of the panic that’s rising in your throat—fast.

Bakugou peers at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. But then he’s chuckling—oh so naturally, like your reaction was adorable to him rather than potentially detrimental to your covers—as he walks toward you.

And then he’s leaning down and into your space, a warning look in his eyes. You barely catch a glimpse of it before he leans even further and kisses your cheek, smiling as he pulls away.

“My place, baby,” he coos, “Where we’ll stay the night.”

“Here we are,” Kouki announces just as the floor beneath you rematerializes, light and markedly spotless as compared to the nicked, hardwood floors you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past weeks. You look up, a faint trace of dizziness clouding your mind still, although it’s quickly replaced by awe as you take in the rest of the room.

Dropping your luggage to the side, you make quick work of what can only be Bakugou Katsuki’s living space.

Well, it’s just what you’d expect from the guy. Purposively designed, no-nonsense, and exceptionally pristine.

And closer to the Prime Minister’s Office. At least, as compared to your more modest home, which is why you’re even here in the first place.

Regardless, you were about to compliment the man for being an outlier of the male population when you suddenly remember that you’re supposed to be well-acquainted with his high-rise apartment unit. You know, as his girlfriend?

You slam your mouth shut, just as Kouki steps forward and turns to face the rest of you like a commander in the military. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he declares, his trademark haughtiness heavy in his tone. “The four of you, review your assignments and be ready by 6 AM sharp. I’ll pick you up here.”

Then, a pointed look toward you and Bakugou. “Don’t be late.”

And just as quickly as you teleported into the pro-hero’s unit, Kouki vanishes, leaving the two of you with the twins.

Silence.

“That man’s got a bug up his old ass, that’s for sure.”

You whip to face Bakugou, surprised and equal parts amused. He only tosses you a smug look, as if daring you to question him.

You don’t, similar to how you don’t dare spare either of the twins a worried glance.

“We should order,” Bakugou says not a minute later, effortlessly picking up your belongings and transferring them to an empty spot beside a door. “I cleared out the ref two weeks ago. ‘m out of groceries.”

“Sure,” you reply, seating yourself comfortably on his sofa like you’ve been here countless times. You sense all three pairs of eyes studying you as you burrow into the plush cushion, willing every neuron in your system to relax. “How ‘bout from that restaurant we went to with the squad? I’m craving some curry.”

“Aha,” Bakugou smirks as he walks over and throws his butt down way too close beside you. “So you did want to switch.”

You bristle, if not at being unceremoniously caught then at how he just slung an arm over the backrest behind you. “T–That’s beside the point,” you argue, before swiftly turning to Hiroto. “Can we have our phones for just a sec, please? We need to order.”

If Bakugou noticed your smooth segue slash redirection just now, he doesn’t point it out, instead letting you take your smartphones from the absurdly tall man without much of a hassle. You quickly place your orders—even asking the twins what they want despite how badly they’ve treated you since your first meeting at that dingy club.

You’re not a monster, after all.

They seem to think you are, though, because they blatantly ignore your kind offer.

Well, then. If they have a hard time falling asleep because of hunger later then that’s not your problem anymore.

Not even thirty minutes after ordering, your food arrives, and the twins end up allowing Bakugou to go down the lobby by himself to fetch the delivery. You almost groan when he walks through the door with the goods in tow, the strong waft of curry sauce filling the air and making your stomach churn in budding anticipation.

“You’re not helping your case, babe,” Bakugou teases as you excitedly pore over the takeout bag, reaching into it to grab your share and then his.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over this glorious smell,” you quip, which grants you a chuckle.

No more words are exchanged as you get started on your feast, too wiped out from today’s activities—Bakugou and his bomb production and your…well, trying not to go crazy—to even start, let alone maintain, a steady conversation. The room is silent aside from some slurping and quiet chewing here and there, with neither Omiru nor Hiroto saying anything to break the monotony.

And you think it must be that—the quiet—that spurs the abrupt observation mid-spoonfeed of how domestic everything is. You wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be eating a meal with Bakugou in his dining room—high schooler you definitely wouldn’t have—but as it turns out life’s got a funny way of pulling the rug from underneath you and messing with your head.

Just like these muddy ass feelings.

No, you think to yourself. Now’s not the time.

Not when you’re barely able to stomach your food, anyway. You were—are hungry—if the incessant rumbling of your abdomen since late afternoon was any indication—but you forgot you’ve been sickeningly nervous the entire day. Still, you force each bite down. The last thing you need is to be frail tomorrow.

“Here,” Bakugou reaches out from across the table a few moments later, “Give me your plate.”

“No,” you say as you lift the empty ceramic further from him, “Let me help.”

Your plea falls on deaf ears, however, because Bakugou leans closer and snatches the dish from your hands before you can even scream a strangled wait! You must be looking stupefied, because Bakugou only smirks at you as he quickly gathers the dishes, beaming with pride as if having a ridiculously wide wing span is something he earned rather than was unjustly given.

“Unfair…” you mumble as you resort to gathering the trash instead, collecting it in the bag that the delivery came in.

“Just leave it there,” he calls out from the kitchen a few feet away, scraping the scraps off the platters. And when he’s realized you’re not listening: “Babe.”

You lift your hands like you’re a contestant in Master Chef and Gordon Ramsey just called time’s up, a petulant frown on your face. “Jeez, I’m just trying to help.”

“And I’m trying to be a gentleman,” comes his snarky retort. You bite back the urge to snort. “Go unpack in the bedroom while I finish up here,” he orders, “I’ll be quick.”

Please don’t be is your visceral reaction, although you manage not to say it out loud. You need at least ten minutes—give or take—of being alone in his bedroom to come to terms with this precarious situation you’ve been dealt with. You manage to reply with a small ‘okay’ before heading over to grab your things, very much cognizant of the ticking clock.

But then it dawns on you that you don’t have any idea where his fucking bedroom is.

You pause mid-bend, pretending you’re studying the hard case of your luggage for non-existent scratches. You know that there are three doors, not counting the one Bakugou went in and out from to get your food. One has to lead to the common restroom, another to his home office slash gym that you’ve heard him talk about once during your lunches at the headquarters, which leaves the last one as his bedroom’s entryway.

Hurry up, your brain tells you. You’re getting suspicious.

Wait.

You let your mind flash back to a while ago, a few moments after you arrived here. ‘We should order,’ was what Bakugou said, as he conveniently hefted your bags to this spot here, which must be right beside…

The bedroom door.

Bingo.

You repress a sigh of relief when you’re greeted with the sight of a massive mattress upon turning the knob, wasting no time as you squeeze into the threshold with your belongings. You were about to shut the door behind you when a female voice calls out your name out of nowhere, and you startle. Turning to face who must’ve been Omiru, you’re quick to put on a nonchalant facade, as if she didn’t just scare you in your metaphorical boots.

“Your tracker,” she says flatly when you don’t move an inch.

“O–oh. Right.”

You stand in place as she goes over the motions while Hiroto does the same with Bakugou. You’ve gone through this so many times that you don’t even wince when she rips out the device, instead only giving her a quick thanks and a rare good night when she steps away.

She doesn’t say it back.

You take that as your cue to go back into Bakugou’s sleeping quarters, and only when the weighty slab of wood is closed behind you do you let out a heavy exhale, suddenly feeling the fatigue that’s been looming over you since last night in its entirety.

But then that’s immediately booted out with a shot of adrenaline when you see it.

The couch.

Or the lack thereof.

You're still standing there—mortified—by the time Bakugou enters the room with his stuff, shutting the door and consequently granting you your first semblance of privacy for the day.

“What,” he says more than asks a minute later, when you still haven’t said anything.

“There’s no couch,” you croak-whisper.

You were not about to sleep on the floor.

You were not about to share a bed with Bakugou, either.

Not after you’ve spent the last two weeks slaving over your high-maintenance sleeping arrangement.

“Relax, dumbass,” comes his fluid retort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man is finding this shit funny. “I have a futon.”

Turns out, he wasn’t lying—what feels like a huge burden lifted off your shoulders when he opens a cabinet to his right and pulls out a moderately thick cushion. You waste no time in assisting him, taking two corners while the pro-hero handles the other two, coordinating as you place the futon perpendicularly, right at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” you tell him when you’re done, dusting off your hands. “Do you have a blanket I can—”

“Too late,” he cuts you off, lightly diving into the mattress.

You gawk at the man. “Wha—”

“It’s your turn on the bed tonight,” he says as a matter of factly, not even bothering to look you in the eye. You splutter, but ultimately relent. As much as you want to argue, you do need some proper rest, especially after last night’s sorry attempt at recharging.

Thankfully, though, Bakugou doesn’t rile you up any further as you each go through your nightly routines and take turns in the built-in bathroom, careful not to invade each other’s spaces. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes and you’re already both plastered and tucked in your respective beds, the occasional noises from the traffic tens of floors below you the only thing filling the otherwise empty air.

But as it turns out, the getting ready for bed part isn’t the problem.

By the time it’s 10 PM, you’ve already tossed and turned roughly twenty times, agonizingly nowhere near asleep despite the luxurious bedding beneath your limbs. It’s after the 21st time, though, that you finally let your mind wander to the man on the floor and whether or not he’s asleep. He must be—having been tuckered out from producing explosives for two days straight. Still, your mind refuses to let go of the thought—brimming with boredom-fueled curiosity that’s begging for visual confirmation.

Sitting up carefully, you strain to peek at Bakugou. He’s been awfully quiet, you think to yourself.

Just a little bit more—

“Can’t sleep?”

You freeze. Shit.

“Uh, no,” you reply, aborting mission and lying back down as silently as possible. “Not really.”

“No shit. I heard you, the last twenty times.”

“Twenty-one,” you correct him. “But who’s counting?”

That earns you a laugh. “What, you scared?”

Your face reflexively contorts in offense, although it’s quick to fall when you realize you’ve actually no right to be offended. “If I told you I was, would that make me a loser?”

To your surprise, his answer is instant. “Nah.”

At that, your brows furrow. “That’s it? Just nah? No what do you think, princess, or some other equally lame taunt?”

“Oooh.” Jesus, you can practically hear him smirking. “You want me to call you princess?”

“There it is. Welcome back, Bakugou.”

A chuckle. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You snort. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, a pause.

“Hey,” you start again a few beats later, gaze fixed—unwavering—on the gray ceiling, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You gulp. “Are you scared?”

This time, the answer is not as instant, but it appears to remain the same. “…No.”

“Really?” you ask, voice inadvertently teeming with incredulity.

You hear some rustling, like he’s shrugging against the bedsheets. “I’ve gone through much worse.”

Oh…

Right.

He did die and came out as one of the most important heroes of the Great War, alongside formidable people—the very people you tapped to help you just a few days ago. Maybe he’s right not to be scared.

“Is it my turn now?” he pipes up suddenly.

Huh? “Your what?”

“My turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”

“Well, we are now.”

You roll your eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that he can’t see you. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

Now—don’t go ahead, is what you would have said, had you fucking known what he was going to say next.

“That day before winter break—” he begins, and you find yourself instantly tensing.

Fuck, no.

He huffs. “—You were gonna confess to me, weren’t ya?”

Fuck.

A deafening silence falls upon the room.

A silence that goes on for what must be a decade.

Then—

“…Is this some hidden camera prank or something?” you laugh dryly.

“No,” he says so seriously your eyes widen. “I was just…thinking about it.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s done it.

What are you supposed to do? Or say to that? Deny it and say, dude, no, you’re delusional? Or ask him where he got the motherfucking audacity and call it a day?

But then the strangest thing happens and an inexplicable feeling washes over you, one that is too nostalgic it’s almost painful.

Ah, yes.

You remember this one.

It wasn’t the first one to show up in the scene, but it was quick to envelop every other emotion afterward, lingering with you until the soothing balm that is time did its magical work and helped you forget.

The regret of not being able to admit your feelings.

And now, a full ten years later, you’re suddenly thrust with the opportunity to finally do what you failed to do then.

You don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes,” you rasp out, heart thrumming frantically against your chest. “I mean, the answer is yes, I was going to. Luckily you didn’t let me get to the embarrassing part, though, huh?”

“Look, I—”

“If you’re gonna apologize,” you cut him off, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Bakugou. That thing’s in the past now. I’ve moved on, as fucking cheesy as it sounds.”

You then chuckle, ignoring the way your hands are stubbornly shaking. “That was just a silly high school crush, anyway.”

“Yeah, well—” he clears his throat, “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it. But…I do still want to apologize, though. For that first day, around two weeks ago.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t remember? I was an ass to you.”

First day? You don’t—

But then it all comes rushing to you—the intimidating looks, the backhanded remarks, the outright insulting comments.

He sniggers. “You just remembered now, didn’t you?”

You blanch. “I—”

“Don’t try to be nice,” he preempts. “I know I fucked up. It’s just—it was a lot to take in, and I took it out on you.”

He heaves a heavy sigh. “First it was having my past rehashed, and then when I met you I got reminded of how arrogant I was as a kid and it just felt like—”

“A slap to the face?”

Another huff. “Exactly.”

You smile—genuinely—this time wishing you were face to face so he could get a good view of it. You try to let it show in your voice instead.

“Thank you for telling me, Bakugou. Apology accepted.”

A sigh of relief. You feel your smile grow bigger.

“Now go to sleep, dumbass,” he spits, the vulnerability from just a second ago long gone, now replaced by his signature snark. “You heard the old geezer. Big day tomorrow.”

You can’t help it—you laugh.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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archangeldyke-all · 7 months ago

Note

okay i’ve seen people talk about werewolf sevika but what about werecat sevika like she gives off such cat vibes she’s an introvert who so would love sitting by her window or on her porch watching things also i’ve always headcanoned that she literally purrs when you scratch her head so werecat sev just makes sense to me

YES i fucking LOVE THIS

this is what i think sevika would look like in cat form btw hehehehehe (send me cats u think sevika would look like too! i want to see all ur ideas)

men and minors dni

it all starts with a loose lab-cat. singed had pumped the thing with shimmer and underestimated its strength. he returned to the lab the next morning to a broken glass cage, quickly followed by hissing and hollering coming from the bar.

sevika stepped on the cat's tail where it had been sleeping beneath a table. in return, the cat sunk it's claws into sevika's calf-- four deep scratches running down her leg-- dripping half blood red, half shimmer pink.

singed told her she'd be okay.

he told her to go home and sleep it off and that she'd be fine.

singed is a fucking liar.

the next full moon, sevika turns into a cat.

not a panther, or a lion, or a fucking tiger or something cool. a fucking house cat. and a tiny one too.

she didn't tell anyone. who could she tell? singed would just try to strap her to a lab table and start experimenting on her. silco would probably just laugh. jinx might be her best bet if she wanted answers, but she fears that jinx would do something horrible like pet her or something.

so she just... deals with it.

the more full moons that pass, the more used to it she gets, and the more she can transform herself at will without the moon's powers.

she kinda likes being a cat. it's useful as fuck in the undercity, with all it's steep walls and drop-offs. it gives her crystal clear vision, even in the deepest darkest streets; it gives her great instincts, even in her human form, and...

there's nothing quite like finding a stray beam of sun and curling up for a few minutes to snooze on a peaceful day. both in her human and cat form.

which is how she meets you.

you live on a high floor of a big apartment building in the lanes. it's miserable climbing up and down the stairs multiple times a day, but the nice thing about it is you're high up enough to get some direct sunlight in your home for a good few hours a day.

you don't have a cat-- your landlord would kill you. but you keep a two little pots of catnip and catgrass growing on your fire-escape, a little tin of water and some tuna or chicken when you've got scraps to spare.

you've got a few cats that come to visit you a few times a week, all varying levels of friendly.

the white stray visits every afternoon to snack on your plants, sometimes bringing a skinny orange friend along with her. you let them be, watching fondly through the window as they groom each other.

there's a fat tuxedo cat that you know has an owner somewhere in the neighborhood, that seems to know when you set out food scraps-- always there in a flash to gobble them up. he's friendly as hell, meowing incessantly at your window until you open it up for him and let him come in to get pets for a few hours before returning home for dinner.

there's a new litter of calico kittens you've caught sight of. you think there's five or six separate kitties, but you can never keep track because they grow so and change so much between your sightings of them.

and then there's your newest visitor.

she's a unique cat, silver eyes, only three legs, her left front leg missing completely. there's blue scratches running down her left side, shimmering in the sun when the wind blows her fur away enough for you to see them.

and she doesn't eat any of your plants, or drink any of your water. most of the time, you come home and find her sleeping in a ray of sun. and every time when she wakes up and realizes you're home, the cat will jump up on your windowsill and simply watch you; her tail twitching occasionally in the wind, purring loud enough for you to hear through the little window as her silver eyes follow your every movement inside.

.....

sevika's fucked.

she's so, so, so fucked.

she's been fucking stabbed, twice, and she's loosing blood so quickly that she's starting to see spots.

the men who stabbed her are chasing her, and she's leaving a trail of blood right to herself. no matter how fast she runs, she's not going to lose them.

she's so woozy that she almost forgets that she's got fucking magical powers. she ducks into an alley and quickly transforms, before sprinting away. that takes care of those idiots beating her to death-- but it doesn't change the fact that sevika's dying.

she doesn't know where to go.

the last drop is way too far for her to get there before she bleeds out. she's got no friends in this neighborhood-- and people down here don't have the spare time, money, or sympathy for a dying street cat.

wait.

she knows someone who likes street cats.

someone sweet, and pretty, and always smiling and talking to her like she can speak human language. she can, but she knows your other cat visitors can't-- and it just makes her like you all the more- - the idea of you talking to some clueless cat, just like you talk to her.

she makes it to your fire escape just before her three legs give out.

and while her vision starts to fade completely, the clouds overhead move and a beam of sun shines down on her, the smell of your cat plants wafting over her as the wind blows.

well, sevika supposes. if i'm gonna die i guess this is the nicest place to do it.

you come home and find a dead woman on your fire escape... which isn't a total surprise in this neighborhood.

it's only when you go out to prod at her that you get really freaked out-- because she's not dead, just barely breathing.

you scramble to pull the woman inside your apartment, spreading her out on your bed and nearly throwing up at the sight of two deep stab wounds in her sides.

you've got some shimmer stored in your medicine cabinet in case of emergencies, and you quickly slide the liquid down her throat before scrambling to find something to stitch her side together with.

you aren't sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing when she starts blinking awake, groaning in pain and weakly trying to shove you away from her wounds.

"hey hey hey, wake up." you say, shaking her shoulders. she grunts and scrunches her face up. when her eyes blink open, your stomach twists.

you've never seen eyes that silver besides on the cat that comes to visit you. they're different on a person. much more attractive.

"uh..." you say, trailing off for a second suddenly realizing that the woman beneath you is very naked. and now that you're looking at her, the blue scars on her left side seem awfully familiar. you clear your throat. "uh, wake up." you say again, gently smacking her cheek.

she gasps awake when you start stitching up her second wound. "fuck!" she shouts. and then, she seems to process where she is. "fuck." she says.

you gulp. "uh, i'll get you a blanket." you offer.

sevika nods numbly as you-- the woman she's been shamelessly peeping on for the past year-- stumble out of your bedroom.

"i thought you were dead, honestly, and then you started moving and i got really freaked out. gave you some shimmer-- i hope you don't mind." you ramble as you walk back into your room, throwing a blanket over sevika. "is there anyone i should call for or...?"

"you're even prettier up close." she says. then she cringes.

fuck she didn't mean to say that. it must be the blood loss. and the shimmer. and your pretty eyes.

"uh..." sevika watches as you start to back away like you're scared, and she huffs before she gathers all her energy and transforms into her cat form. "what the fuck?!" you squawk as the woman in front of you disappears in thin air.

and then, a little lump under the covers starts to move.

and the three legged silver eyed cat comes crawling out, two new wounds on her side.

"what the fuck?" you ask, immedietly reaching forward to pet the cat in front of you. you don't consider that the cat is a woman-- it's your natural instinct-- you see a cat, you pet it.

but then the woman's back and your hand is in her hair and she's blushing all the way down to her tits which you can see because she's still naked.

"wha--"

"i'm sevika."

"hi, sevika." you giggle, slightly hysterical. sevika's blush gets even darker. "i'm--"

"i know." she cuts you off, then bites her lip in embarrassment and presses her head harder against your hand, like she's a cat. well, you suppose she kinda is. "i... sorry for stumbling into your life like this. i thought if i died as a cat i died in real life." sevika shrugs. "guess the whole nine lives thing is true, though."

"i don't--"

"i can leave, if you give me a pair of sweats or someth--"

"no!" you squeak. sevika smiles, and now you're embarrassed. "i-i mean... you're injured. you should stay until you're better..." sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "plus... you're kinda cute."

she grins. "as a cat or...?"

"fuck off." you giggle, crawling into bed beside her. "you've fucking... been watching me for a year! it's only fair i get to interrogate you, too, you creep."

"i-i'm not a creep!"

"you've seen me naked!"

"you didn't seem to mind at the time..." sevika pouts.

you can't believe how ridiculous this whole fucking situation is. sevika's blood drying into your mattress underneath the pair of you, but her skin is becoming more vibrant as the shimmer works through her system, flashes of pink sparkling in her silver eyes. she's practically purring as you scratch her scalp. you burst into laughter, and sevika grins up at you.

when you finally catch your breath, you shake your head and look down at the only sorta-stranger beneath you. "so, what are you... a werecat, or something?"

sevika groans before bursting into laughter with you.

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@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #i love werewolf sevika so much don't get me wrong #i just love the idea of 'scary' sevika turning into a sweet little kitty cat too she'd be so pissed f;laskjdf;lksj

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 6 months ago

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Sweeter Than Revenge Part 3

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After your "date" with Tyler took an unexpected turn, you wake up to see Scott confronting the cowboy about your disappearance. Word Count: 2045 TW: Fluff, Angst, Family Conflict, Confrontation, Yelling, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

“Where the fuck is she, Owens!”

As your eyes flickered open, you realized you were no longer lying on Tyler’s chest in the bed of his truck. Instead, you were curled in the back seat, one of his merch t-shirts balled up under your head and his jacket draped over your body as a makeshift blanket. Your head was positioned near the passenger side of the truck and, lifting it slightly, you noticed the driver’s door was open. Tyler was standing outside as if he had just climbed out, the little you could see of his surroundings revealing he had driven you back to the motel.

He turned towards whoever had just spoken—the voice was very familiar even though your sleep-hazed mind couldn’t place it—and held up his hands. “Why don’t we all just calm down an—”

“No!” Suddenly, Scott burst into view as he stormed up to Tyler, stopping only when he was practically chest-to-chest with him. Scott towered a good five or six inches over the other man, yet Tyler didn’t as much as flinch as Scott growled in his face. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck is she?”

Tyler stared calmly at Scott’s fuming face for a moment then chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you lose your cool like this before, Scotty. In fact, can’t say I’ve seen much more than a sarcastic sneer from you before. Something must have riled you up real good for you to be in this state.” Tyler’s voice had slowed, his accent becoming twice as heavy as before as he milked every second in an attempt to push Scott’s buttons—and it was working.

Nostrils flaring, Scott yelled, “How about the fact you’ve been alone with my little sister for the past four hours? I’ve been trying to call and text her but she hasn’t answered.”

You suddenly realized you had tucked your phone into your purse when you left the motel room. The purse that you had then placed on the passenger’s seat when Tyler helped you down after parking in the field so you could both go eat your food in the bed of his truck. The one you had completely forgotten about until just now. Oops.

But Tyler didn’t offer any such explanation. “We were busy,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, are you really worried about her, or are you just worried she was having a good time with someone like me?”

“If you laid a single finger on her—”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” The smug grin that had been on Tyler’s face evaporated as he became stone-serious. Whatever game he had been playing was now over. He took a step forward, this sudden shift causing Scott to stumble back in surprise. “You don’t get to play caring, protective older brother when just a few hours ago you basically told her to fuck off because you didn’t want her here. I understand you two might have a complicated history, but family isn’t something you can pick and choose when it's convenient for you. You didn’t want anything to do with her after she traveled all this way just to see you, so you don’t get a say in what she does now.”

Scott recovered slightly, but though he tried to bite back with the same fury as before, it seemed dulled by the force of Tyler’s words. “And you do?”

“No, I don’t. Only she does.” Tyler started to turn towards his open door but then thought better of it and faced Scott again. Lowering his voice, he said, “You know, I used to think you were in the wrong truck. That you should be in Tin Man instead of Scarecrow considering how cold and uncaring you seemed. But I was wrong. You may have your fancy degree from a world-class university yet you are too brainless to see that all she’s looking for is just a little of your attention and love. And if you aren’t willing to give that to her, you can’t get mad when she finds someone else who will.”

Scott sneered at Tyler. “You’ve known her for a few hours and you think you know her better than someone who’s known her her entire life?”

“Yeah. I do.”

The back door to the truck flung open and you blinked up at the bright lights shining in. Tyler stood in the door with a halo of neon light framing his silhouette, anger rolling off of him in waves. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes burned beneath his cowboy hat. However, when he saw you staring up at him, his expression softened. Giving you a small smile, he murmured, “Hey, sweetheart. You want me to carry you to your room or you think you’re awake enough to walk?”

Stretching to help wake up your limbs from where you had been curled, you sat up. “I can walk.” Ducking your head to hide the bashful smile fluttering on your lips, you added a soft, “Thanks though.”

Grabbing your purse off the front seat, you started to crawl towards the door when Tyler offered you his hand. You took it and slid out, a small cloud of dust bursting up around your ankles as your boots hit the dirt. Tyler reached back into the truck, grabbed his jacket, and wrapped it around your shoulders before placing his arm on top of it, hugging you close to his body. The warmth radiating off of him and the smell of his skin made you want to snuggle deeper into him and drift back to sleep.

Maybe you should have taken him up on his offer to carry you after all.

As he began to steer you towards the stairs leading to your room, you noticed Scott standing by the rear of the truck with his arms folded across his chest. The two of you made eye contact for just a moment, but you quickly looked away. You didn’t like the look in your brother’s eyes—the seething anger and blatant disappointment you were used to, but it was that hint of something else that made you turn away and lean your head against Tyler’s shoulder. If you didn’t know Scott better, you would almost say he looked hurt. But that couldn’t be possible because Scott would have to care about you for him to be hurt by Tyler’s words or by seeing you together.

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything else as Tyler helped you climb the stairs. Letting out a soft sigh of relief when your brother disappeared from view, you whispered, “Thank you. For standing up to Scott for me.”

“You heard that?” You nodded against Tyler’s shoulder and you felt him shift beneath you. “Yeah, well, he had the right to be worried about you, but he also needed to be reminded he wasn’t a saint in this situation. Besides, you’re an adult and can spend time with whoever you want.”

You hummed a soft agreement before, a few dozen steps later, reluctantly pulling yourself away from Tyler as you reached the correct door. “Well, this is me.”

He watched as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. Turning to face him, you said, “I know I already said it, but thank you…for everything. I-I really needed that, out in the field. It helped. And while today did not go at all how I expected, I’m actually very happy with how it turned out.”

“Me too, sweetheart.”

The two of you continued smiling at each other and you weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to do next. But just as you started to close the door, Tyler leaned his shoulder against your door frame and said, “Hey, whether you’re done messing with Scott or not, I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

You blinked, butterflies blooming in your chest. “R-really?”

“Yeah. I had a really nice time tonight. It’s not every day I meet someone like you and I’d like to see more.”

Someone like me? You briefly flashed back to yourself sobbing into his chest in the bed of his truck and wondered what he could have possibly seen in you that he would want to see more of. However, you weren’t going to pass up this chance if he was offering.

Fidgeting with the strap on your purse, you nodded, “I’d like to see more of you too. Maybe you could let me come on a chase with you or something?”

Tyler’s dimples made your breath catch in your throat as his smile widened. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more interesting…I would love to take you on a chase. Show you what it means to wrangle a tornado. How ‘bout I pick you up in the morning around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Nodding, Tyler reached out and took your hand. For a moment, you were taken aback. You might not have known each other long, but after everything that had happened tonight, it felt weird for him to end it by shaking your hand. But then he lifted it, his face disappearing beneath the brim of his hat as he dipped his head, and his lips brushed the back of your hand.

The kiss was brief and faint, just a soft caress on your skin contrasted by the rough scratch of his stubble, yet you felt a jolt of electricity surge up your arm before traveling throughout your entire body. You were so glad your other hand was still clinging to the door because, without it to steady you, you were sure your knees would have given out.

Tyler didn’t seem to notice as he straightened up and gently lowered your hand to your side, giving it a light squeeze before releasing it. Then, with a tip of his hat and a wink, he said, “Good night,” and strolled back down the walkway towards the stairs.

You watched him go until he disappeared. Only then did you close your door, leaning heavily on it with a sigh. Your head thudded back against the sturdy metal as you replayed every moment from the night in your head.

What were you doing? Had this really all started as a game, a way to pay Scott back for how he treated you? Now Tyler was planning on picking you up the next morning after you spent most of tonight crying into his chest? And why did you feel so giddy about seeing him again?

Tyler wasn’t at all what you had expected from his videos or from what Scott had said about him. Sure, he had a wild, playful side, but more than that, he was funny and kind and smart and, to top it all off, a perfect gentleman. You can’t remember the last time someone had treated you with so much respect or consideration. He never tried to make a move or insinuate you owed him for the fact that he was doing you a favor. And even when he pulled you into his arms where it would have been easy to take advantage of your emotional state, he had only sought to comfort you and make sure you were okay.

Then he had to go and kiss your hand like some handsome cowboy prince charming! What the fuck.

Pushing yourself off the door, you went over and grabbed a towel off the edge of the sink before disappearing into the dingy bathroom. Tyler’s scent still clung to your skin and you almost didn’t want to wash it off. However, the desire to rinse away the remaining tears from your face and feel the hot water streaming down your exhausted, tense muscles won out. You would just have to find another excuse to cozy up to Tyler again tomorrow. Maybe another meal next to him in the back of the truck. Or resting on his shoulder as you both watched the storm clouds roll in. Or pressing yourself against him as you leaned in—

It was only then that the full weight of your situation hit you. This might have started out as an act of revenge on Scott, but the joke was now on you. After only one day, you were falling fast and hard for Tyler Owens.

Part 4 coming 9/2!

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ransackedpotato3 · 5 months ago

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This story is long and detailed like my first one

Makayla and Jesse finished their sixth plate of takeout from their local Thai vendor. “Told you we’d finish it all,” Jesse told Makayla,who was hesitant to buy all six plates of devilishly spicy cuisine. “My mouth” - *sharp inhale* “is suffering” - *quivering exhale* “my younger hurts” Makayla uttered through painful breathing to try to ease her mouth from the spice. “If you’re spice tolerance is that low why’d you eat four plates?, I could’ve finished it for you!” Jesse joked. “It was good.” Makayla replied, falling back onto the expensive penthouse sofa behind her with her shoes still on.

“Time to chill” Makayla mumbled lazily pulling her phone out to scroll instagram. Jesse followed less lazily, taking her shoes off and lying on the other side of the sofa.

An hour passed of silence passed, interrupted by the rumbling of Makayla’s stomach. She held her hand to her bulging stomach, “girl my stomach is yelling at meee” she jokingly Jesse with a smile “I’m so full my stomach is hard, it’s like I’m pregnant”. “Mhmm” Jesse replied half assedly, on the verge of falling asleep on the sofa.

A hot sharp pain hit Makayla’s stomach, a hard push and a short “hrrrmph” she squeezed out a small tight short fart. The fart was just as spicy as the food she ate, feeling a hot sting on her asshole as the small pocket of hot air was forced out of her her sphincter. The soothing release of pressure made her push more difficult brief spicy farts, she pushed and pushed dozens of spicy farts, her underpants were totally stained. As she rolled onto her side for ease, She kept pushing to the point the sweat accumulated from physical exertion had made her thin white cargo pants stick to her skin like fine silk.

On the contrary, Jesse, who had dozed off on the sofa adjacent to Makayla, caught a faint whiff of the lividly pungent fireballs propelled out of Makayla’s ass. “OH WHAT the fuck is that smell!!??..” Jesse squealed as her hand jolted to her nose. “Sorry… HRRRNGH my stomach” Makayla answered pushing another wet hot fart.

“Oh my gosh stop Makayla that smells soo bad!” Jesse mumbled behind her palms, “if it smells that bad, why don’t you get up and leave then?” “I’m too tired that food took me out…”. Just as Jesse finished her sentence Makayla pushes out the NASTIEST BEEFIEST JUICIEST fury of gas. It echoes through the room like an acoustic reverb. “…Did you just shit yourself??” Jesse asks in awe of what she had heard “go to the bathroom Makayla!” “Fuck you I fart whenever I want. 🖕🏽” Makayla replied “That’s not even the worst I got wanna see?”. “NO!!! go use The BATHROOM!!” Makayla, Ignoring Jesse’s demands, sticking the middle finger to her while hiding her face with her phone. With a grunt, She begins to push out the “ultimate fart”.

Her body tenses up as she focuses all her strength on mustering gas from her intestines. After a second of struggle, a minuscule amount of gas sputters out her sphincter, followed by a surprise SUPERTURD. A long completely solid slippery log of shit EXPLODES into her cargoes at FULL FORCE. With the sound of a gunshot the rigid stiff log TENTED her thin, sweat-damp cargos out 10 INCHES in the blink of an eye. The friction of the turd sliding past her asshole at super speed generated painful levels of heat, Makayla jerked her body straight as she felt the logs advance be thwarted by the resistance of her pants.

Makayla’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she dropped her phone and moved her hand to her large rear, getting up from the sofa in a flash.

Standing motionless in terror, she could feel the stiff tenting shit log move to settle in her rear, it slowly slid from colliding parallel to her asshole, gradually rotating across the in the seat of her pants, skating across contact with her pants and the crevice of her asscheeks, to resting between them, slowly reducing the tent in her cargo pants to a simple vertical bulge. She felt every bit of it.

“… No way.” Jesse uttered with a horrified expression. Makayla’s eyes slowly peeped towards Jesse “There’s more…” “What?”

Makayla full sent towards the bathroom, small squirts of mushy shit escaping her with every step, just as she arrived at the bathroom it happened, the next log had arrived. “Ahh, Ah- AHHhhhhnnnnngh” As she opened the bathroom door, The Massive turd in her intestines pounded at her door. “Ow, Oww OWW OWW OW” the turd began forcing its way out as she entered the bathroom, it was crazy wide, stretching her asshole to an unimaginably painful diameter. She dismissed removing her pants as she sat on the toilet, beads of sweat running from her forehead to her neck as she scrunched her face in pain. Holding the walls for support she pushed with ALL her might, straining in full exertion as she tried to get the pain over with. The massive log of shit ROCKETED into her pants to accompany the first turd, creating an even bigger bulge. Spicy mushy diarrhea followed from her meal earlier. Makayla desperately moaned in relief as she faced the ceiling breathing heavily. Through her anguished painful moans, deafening wet farts, and the wrathful squelching of sloppy fecal matter blew into her pants. Her moans grew quieter as she violently shat on herself, the seat of her cargos growing heavier and heavier, as the bulge in her stomach flattened. The flow of poo finally subsided.

Her pants carried a variety of different textures, the completely solid logs of shit that flew out painfully, the mushy turds that sneaked their way out through the slushy sloppy steamy semisolid excrement. All drenched in the hot liquid diarrhea that ferociously sprayed out of her asshole by the conclusion of her bowel movement. The mess completely enveloped her ass in shit as the bulge has swollen up to an unnatural size. Liquid shit dripped from her pants into the toilet bowl, dying the water brown.

The bathroom was overcome with the smell of shit, but Makayla’s heavy breathing was the only sound. she sighed in relief as she removed her hands from the wall, drenched in sweat, locking eyes with the ceiling in an attempt to ignore the pain at her rear. She slowly stood up, feeling her center of gravity change as a mass of shit began to slide down the back of her thighs in her pants, pausing her in animation.

The liquid shit dribbled down the leg holes first, followed by the pulps of mushy shit plopping into her shoes and around her feet. She moved her hands to her waistband and slowly slid down her pants. This would take a while to clean…

#farting and pooping girls #messing #pants messing #pants pooping #panty pooping #pantypoop #pantypooping #scat kink #poop desperation #messing accident

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chkinpotpie · 27 days ago

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I feel things in a big way and have for as long as I can remember.

One of my earliest memories is seeing the world behind the protection of my mom's long and sturdy legs. She was larger than life and shielded me from the loud world coming at me. She was a fireball. She walked into a room and owned it. She could talk to anyone as if she had known them their whole life. I remember watching from behind her legs -seeing her interact with people and being in awe of her ability to connect with people from all walks of life. She was magnetic. People who got pulled into her field were changed forever. She saw no color, no dollar signs, no religion, no gender, no sexual preference, no judgment. She was pure goodness. I cannot say enough good things about her. She chose me, and I am so lucky she did.

About six months before she passed away, we rented a cabin at Rough River. Just the two of us. A "girl's weekend." We packed a cooler with filets and lobster tails. We brought a couple of bottles of wine, a deck of cards, and our swimsuits. We planned on indulging in all the good stuff—food, alcohol, gambling, and gossiping. On our way to our cabin, we stopped to get a few last-minute supplies at the local gas station in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky. My mom was pumping the gas as I returned with the provisions. A man a few pumps over said, "Elaine?!" That was my mom's name. We both turned, and she said, "Earl?!" running to the man as if he was her long-lost cousin. I stood, stuffing Hot Tamales in my mouth, watching the scene unfold.

My mom knew Earl from our local Bingo hall, where she volunteered once a week for the temple fundraiser. After working all day, she would walk back and forth for four hours at Bingo, selling pull tabs. She knew everyone, and everyone knew her. She didn't just know people, though—she KNEW them. The names of their kids, where they grew up, what TV show they were currently into, what beauty salon they went to, etc. So while I was surprised she knew some random guy named Earl out in the middle of BFE, Kentucky, hours from home and on our first visit to this area, I was not really shocked.

I needed someone so fierce to protect me from the world. It was too loud and scary when I was a child. She gave me the time I needed to understand it all, or at least think I did. She gave me the time I needed to build up my own protection. She certainly continues to provide me strength to this day. I know she is watching over me, and I draw on her strength more and more as we enter these challenging times.

I do not feel as deeply as I used to, but I still feel very deeply. I feel other people's energy, as if their souls are speaking to me in a language that has no words—just vibrations and feelings. Lately, I have felt a heaviness like I have never experienced. So many people are feeling scared, uncertain, angry, and confused. I feel it on my chest, like someone's foot is there, pushing their heel into my rib cage. It's tough to not feel this way when every time you turn on the news or check social media, there is an astonishing development that feels otherworldly. Like, seriously, how did we get here? I suspect we have always been on this path—greed, the quest for power, lust for control. I think we have been here for a long time, but as time goes on, the path is no longer a dirt road. It is a moving sidewalk with LED displays and state-of-the-art sound systems. It is information flooding our brains at ridiculous rates every day. It is accelerating in its growth. It is gaining power and momentum.

Fear is what it eats for dinner. Hate is a piece of warm apple pie for dessert. Division is a cup of espresso in the morning. Lack of compassion is a piece of wood-oven-baked pizza, and lack of empathy is a cold beer on the side. Making sure we do not remember our worth is guacamole, and arguing with random strangers on the internet is the chips and salsa. Forgetting that most of us want the same things is a pickle on the side of a corned beef sandwich.

Do not feed the fear. Our energy, our emotions, our thoughts are what create our world. Our inner voice narrates our life and shapes our reality. Realize you have a choice in who and what you let in. If you let someone or something in and it makes you feel scared and hopeless, and you don't want to feel those emotions, then do not let them in. Your energy is your own. It is precious. You are precious. Remember your worth. Remember a time when you knew how special you were. There was no question. Do things that remind you how incredible you are. Lean into your self-care, into moments that light your soul on fire.

Do not fall into the biggest trap fear has set for us all. Just because we are on the "good" side does not mean we should speak poorly about the "bad" side. We certainly CAN speak poorly about the "bad" side. It is hard not to in these crazy times we are living in. We are charged with emotion, and it needs to be released somewhere. Bad-mouthing the bad, however, only makes the bad grow. It feeds off the negative energy, even if the negative energy is being expressed for good reason. Do not feed the fear.

Instead, I invite you to join me and draw on my Mom's strength. You can hide behind her legs, build up your protective shield and strength until you are ready. Then you can lean into the feeling my mom and I had on our girl's weekend. Not a care in the world, as we sipped our Cabernet and dined on our grilled surf-n-turf. The next day, we floated in the lake for hours, playing "I Never" and talking about everything under the sun. That night, we went to the local church Bingo. Earl had told my mom about it and said he might be there. We pulled up to the quintessential little white country church. There were about 12 cars in the parking lot. We walked in, and the music stopped, and everyone looked up at us. Everyone, being about 25 people, including the caller. We got our cards and started playing, giggling to each other about the wild situations we get ourselves into. The top prize of the night was a $250 jackpot, the last game, and a coverall. Well, we won the damn jackpot. The locals, who had probably been attending this Bingo game for 50 years, were not happy. We quickly got paid and left a trail of dust as we screeched away and headed back to our cabin, counting our cash and dancing and just loving each other.

#Love is always the answer

#itsgoingtobeokay

#createyourreality

#writer #love #mom #bingo

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heesdreamer · 2 years ago

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TWO FOR ONE

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader x jake

SUMMARY ➩ Don’t let the tiny amount of plot fool you… this is straight up smut lol. Heeseung is a gentle giant who doesn’t talk much and Jake is an absolute menace

WARNINGS ➩ Straight up smut. slight switch heeseung… he just listens well lol, hard dom jake but he’s sweet at times, double penetration, slight degrading… it’s just a mess lol this is definitely getting content blocked. Heejake are NOT together and do not get intimate at all other then slight instruction from the latter! NOT PROOFREAD

WC ➩ 11.1k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ So.. I’m back lol. Not what I typically write but well… guess I was in a mood so here you go. Hope you enjoy however many of you manage to see this considering tumblr isn’t being so kind to smut writers right now

It wasn’t like you weren’t accustomed to men and their actions, especially in your specific line of work.

Being a waitress meant you were subjected to almost every type of man, ranging from the attractive ones who talked too much about themselves and their accomplishments to the less favorable who seemed to think calling out comments about your uniform would get them a date after your shift ended.

You loved your job on a regular day, working in a hole in the wall diner that managed to get pretty heavy foot traffic between the drunk people wandering too far from the main stretch looking for cheap food and the truckers who were 16 hours into a shift and needing somewhere warm to refuel on coffee and stretch their legs.

The summers were hectic and considering part of your uniform entailed rolling around on a pair of bright pink skates as you delivered hot mugs and stacks of plates, you definitely wouldn’t have liked it as much if it wasn’t for your coworkers and the hefty tips you’d get if you managed to bring yourself to batting your eyelashes at the customers.

You were six hours into a shift now and your ankles were definitely swollen from the tight skate laces around your ankles, hair frizzier than it had been in the morning from the humidity and sweat and you were almost positive some sticky mouthed kid had stuck gum on the back of your apron.

Still your attention was locked on a booth in the corner of the diner, leaning forward on the counter with your elbows holding up your weight to stop you from rolling forward or backwards. Your eyebrow was raised as you looked at the two people seated across from each other and you were running over your mental catalog to see if you’d seen them before. Eventually decided you definitely hadn’t considering the reason for your initial curiosity, that being the fact they were the complete opposite of your usual demographic.

“They screw you out of a solid tip or something?” Your coworkers voice was mumbling from beside you and you glanced over just in time to see him taking off his hairnet and leaning down on the counter next to you.

Riki had actually been one of the skaters a year or two back before he hit a random growth spurt and became to clumsy and accident prone. It had only taken three spilled coffees onto unexpecting patrons before he was being push back onto cook duty in the back kitchen, happy to at least have kept his job even if he was missing out on server tips now.

“They’re Sunoo’s table.” You were explaining to him and shaking your head softly, pausing for a second. “I just haven’t seen them around before.”

He was shrugging and you could feel him glancing at you in confusion before he was looking back at the two boys who were innocently eating their fries and barely paying attention to their surroundings. “So, what’s the big deal? Maybe they’ll be your first regulars who aren’t 60 years old.”

You didn’t directly respond to him but you kept watching the boys curiously for the rest of your shift and four more after that, they kept coming in day after day and sitting in the same booth in the corner.

Eventually you would’ve gotten bored of trying to figure out where they came from or what part of town they lived in, if it wasn’t for the fact they started to notice you too. Especially one of them considering he would continuously poke his head over the booths divider wall and look at you for a few seconds until you made eye contact with him, then he’d shoot back down and sit tight in his seat.

It was funny at first to see how nervous he got whenever you held his gaze for half a second but eventually it started to get on your nerves and distract you from your actual tables, never having served them yet considering they only sat in Sunoo’s section.

A week passed before you were sighing and asking your coworker if it was okay for you to swap sides of the diner for the day, watching his confused expression turn into a meddling one as he glanced over at the boys in the corner knowingly before he was nodding his head enthusiastically.

“Which one are you interested in?” He was whispering in your direction with an excited smile but you ignored his question due to your lack of an answer and skated back over to an awaiting table.

The next day they were coming in again and you watched them patiently for a few minutes before the nervous one was scurrying off to the bathroom, giving you the chance to smoothly skate over and stand in front of the booth. It took the remaining boy a few seconds to look at you and realize you weren’t Sunoo but he was smiling as soon as he trailed up your uniform and stopped on your face, not relenting even when your eyebrow cocked.

“Hey.” He was breathing out and your nose scrunched slightly at the confidence in his voice, glancing behind you for a second before sighing and tucking your pen behind your ear.

“Why does your friend keep staring at me?” You were asking swiftly and his smile faltered for a second at the sound of your annoyed tone, bored expression on your face as you stared down at him and waited for a response.

You could hear the sound of the bathroom door opening behind you but you didn’t turn, already knowing who it was based off context and the fact the boy sitting down was looking around your frame now and smiling again as he saw his friend returning to the table. It took longer than the walk from the bathroom usually did and you imagined he had frozen for a few seconds when he saw you standing there instead of Sunoo.

“He thinks you’re pretty.” Your eyes were shooting back to the boy who was sitting as he spoke and they stayed on him even when the new figure was sliding into the seat across from him and doing his best to avoid touching you, captivated for a moment by the way he was looking at you.

Then you were breaking away from his gaze to take in the boy you kept catching peeking at you, eyes flickering from his red cheeks to the glasses sat on top of his nose. He was both staring at you intensely and avoiding looking at you at all cost, darting from your face to your hands that were touching the table and then back at his friend with a slightly panicked expression.

“That true? You think I’m pretty?” You were asking him with a slight bite to your words, feeling almost suspicious like they were potentially making fun of you.

You knew you were pretty attractive but at work you weren’t exactly at your hottest, normally sweaty from the beating summer sun through the large windows and the effort that skating around in clean lines all day took. You imagined your hair was frizzing out of its ponytail by now and you typically carried a heavy grimace on your face unless you were attempting to butter up the high tipping regulars.

“He does.” The other boy was answering for him and you turned your gaze back towards him in a glare. “He talks about it all the time.”

“He can’t speak for himself?” You were interrupting harshly but your tense demeanor disappeared slightly when he was shaking his head in denial, glancing back towards the boy with glasses to see him looking much more embarrassed now that you were talking about him. “No he can’t or no he can?”

“I-I can.” He was hurrying to rush out in a stutter and your eyes softened slightly at the way his widened, trying his best to address you directly despite the way his friend was laughing softly across the table.

You turned your head to glare at him again for his small chuckles, feeling oddly protective over the other boy even though he’d been getting on your nerves with his constant distractions and staring. The first boy stopped laughing but kept a small smirk on his face as he watched you, eyes flicking down to your chest for a second as he scanned your name tag before meeting your stare again.

“I’m Jake and he’s Heeseung.” He nodded his head across the table at the latter part and you looked back over to the boy with glasses to see him attempt a small friendly smile in your direction.

You tested out their names in your head for a few seconds before you were sighing and taking your pen out from behind your ear, finally getting around to asking them for their orders and ignoring the way your cheeks were heating up as you skated back behind the counter.

——

Heeseung and Jake continued to come into your work regularly and you continued to ask Sunoo for that table even if it wasn’t on your side, every time flushing bright red at the knowing smirk on his face and eventually being overly grateful when he told you that you didn’t need to keep asking him every single time.

You didn’t speak to the boys much and you definitely weren’t friends but Jake tried to make conversation with you every time you took their order, smirking and leaning forward on the table with his elbows so he could stay in your line of vision even when you tried your hardest to ignore him from the corner of your eye. Heeseung stayed quiet for the most part outside of whispering out his orders but you felt him watching the side of your face the entire time you were around them.

So you weren’t exactly sure why you were accepting their invitation to come to their apartment one weekend after your shift had ended, at first ignoring Jake when he explained there was going to be a small party and he wanted to see you there.

He had smiled at you and wrote down their address anyways on one of the napkins from the metal dispenser, sliding it in your direction and not saying anything else when you snatched it off the table without agreeing to show up.

You were definitely overthinking the fact you’d shown up now considering you definitely hadn’t given any hint that you would be, standing outside their door and being hit with the realization they might not even want you here anymore or maybe it really was a small gathering and they only ordered enough food or drinks for a certain amount of people. You pictured having to stand all night because there wasn’t enough seats and your face pulled into a cringed grimace, getting ready to turn around and leave before the door was swinging open.

You froze for a few seconds before realizing it was just Jake but then you were tensing even more. You were used to seeing him in more casual clothes throughout the day but he was definitely dressing up tonight, sleeves rolled up just above his elbows and your eyes stayed locked on the thick veins in his arms for a few seconds before you were snapping back up to his face.

“You’re early.” He was chiming but that familiar sleazy smile was making its way to his face now after he’d seen you briefly checking him out. You rolled your eyes at his comment but you were grateful when he wordlessly stepped aside to let you pass through the front door.

“You didn’t exactly give me specifics.” You were sarcastically responding as you stood in the entryway, eyes scanning over their apartment and being pleasantly surprised by how normal it seemed.

It was almost overly tidy and you had a strong feeling that was more Heeseung’s doing, spotting stacks of video games pressed tightly onto an entertainment center shelf and perfectly dusted coffee tables with no liquid ring stains unlike how your own looked. You could see a hallway leading away from the main living area and there was three doors, one of them closed completely.

You turned your head to glance back at Jake over your shoulder to find him already watching you, his expression slightly darker now but softening again when he noticed you looking. “Where’s Heeseung?”

“He’s in his room getting ready still.” He was answering smoothly and you assumed the closed door must be his, nodding your head softly and pausing awkwardly for a second before kicking off your shoes by the door. “I think he’s nervous.”

Jake was moving towards the kitchen area as he talked and you watched him curiously as he opened the fridge and took out a drink, waiting for him to continue even when he was turning back around and resting his elbows on the counter as he glanced at you. He seemed to take notice of your curious expression and raised eyebrow, laughing in surprise for a second before he was opening his mouth to speak more.

“I meant it when I said he thought you were pretty and, if you haven’t noticed, he’s not the best with talking to girls.” He was shrugging softly as he talked but you could tell it was a deeper issue between the friends, something they’d definitely talked about before.

You were looking down towards the hallway again and then back at Jake.

“So you’re his wingman.” Your tone was flat as it fell from your mouth and you were taken back at your own directness, for some reason finding yourself grateful when he smiled softly instead of getting offended at your almost harsh level of bluntness.

He was shrugging again and you felt a small wave of frustration pass through you, not necessarily at the boy directly but at the fact he never seemed to give you a straight answer to anything and constantly watched you with that smirk he carried so naturally.

If it was any other situation, you would have figured Jake was the one who was interested in you. He was constantly watching you carefully in a way that almost made your skin crawl if it wasn’t for his easygoing demeanor and gentle way of speaking, especially to Heeseung who he seemed to care deeply for. Deep enough that he was constantly mentioning him any time the two of you were alone and solidifying the fact he didn’t like you himself.

You were sighing under your breath before nodding to yourself and turning on your heel, wandering down the hallway and knocking softly on the closed door before you could see Jake’s reaction, already picturing the amused look that must be on his face.

Despite your knocking, you didn’t actually have the patience to wait for him to come and open the door so it was more so a warning as your hand touched the knob and twisted it to reveal Heeseung standing in front of his mirror as he messed with his hair. His eyes flicked up to the reflection to see who it was coming into his room so suddenly and he froze up completely when he realized it was you, hand stood still in his dark hair and eyes widening a touch.

“Hey.” You breathed out and smoothed down your skirt awkwardly, needing something to do with your hands as you glanced around his room.

You figured your assumptions about the cleanliness of the apartment being his doing were right considering the state of his bedroom and you looked back over at him to see him still frozen in place, snapping back out of it slightly when he realized you were waiting for him to say something.

“H-hi, you’re early.” He was rushing out and turning to finally face you, his hands falling back to rest on the desk and then immediately being brought in front of his stomach instead like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Jake said the same thing.” You told him and you tried your best to smile softly at him, trying to find a way to calm his nerves that were obviously increasing. You glanced at his bed and then back at him with a raised eyebrow, feeling thankful he got the memo and nodded his head softly with slightly parted lips. He watched you intensely as you lowered yourself down on his soft bed, glancing around your surroundings again and taking it in.

“It’s..” He trailed off awkwardly after attempting to start a sentence and your gaze went back to him curiously.

Heeseung was definitely attractive even if he lacked any signs of confidence, never really meeting your eye and instead allowing his more extroverted friend to basically speak for him instead of talking to you himself. It almost made him cuter to you despite not necessarily going for guys like that in the past but you were slightly flattered by how nervous he got whenever you approached their table.

He seemed especially on edge now that you were sitting carefully on his perfectly made bed, out of your stained uniform and dressed in a small skirt that was sliding up your thighs every time you slightly shifted. He was fidgeting with his hands still and you could see a soft blush on his face even though he was avoiding looking at you for more than a few seconds at a time.

“It’s what?” You were trying to coax the rest of his sentence out of him but his body stiffened at the soft tone you’d suddenly taken on, something he hadn’t heard before considering you typically were harshly barking a response towards Jake.

“It’s j-just.. not a bad thing that you’re early.” He was eventually forcing the words out and looking at you briefly to check your reaction, swallowing so hard that it almost looked painful. You were smiling softly but not immediately responding, letting his words hands delicately in the air for a few seconds before you were standing up and approaching him slowly.

He didn’t move away from the desk but he was completely tense now that you were close to him, still not near enough to touch but pretty clear in your intentions when you took another small step. He was so stiff that you were almost worried you were making him uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the many times Jake had told you that he liked you, encouraged you to make a move because Heeseung wouldn’t do it himself.

You were hit with a wave of disappointment and then embarrassment however when he was suddenly taking a few quick steps to the side and placing a hand over his face to try and cover the visible redness, staring at the floor to avoid the hurt on your expression considering he’d basically just ran away from you.

A mean scoff was falling from your lips before you could swallow it and Heeseung winced slightly at the sound, eyes squeezing shut for a second like he was preparing himself to be yelled at. You shook your head even though he wasn’t looking at you and swiftly turned to leave the room before you could embarrass yourself further, storming back down the hall and roughly attempting to put your shoes back on so you could go back home.

“Woah woah woah.” Jake’s voice was coming from the living room, sounding panicked and confused as he quickly stood up from the couch and approached you. You felt his hands touching the bare skin of your arm and you flinched softly before glaring at him, watching as he took the hint and held the hand up in surrender. “Hey, what happened?”

His voice was gentle but you could tell he already had a feeling by the way he was glancing towards the hallway with a similar disappointment on his face.

“You said he liked me.” You spat at him and you were even more mortified considering the embarrassed tears that were threatening to spill, bending back down to try and pull on your other shoe but stopping when you felt his hand touching you again.

He was holding your arm softly and not taking it off this time despite the murderous look you were giving him, squeezing your skin just enough to get your attention as he waited for you to stand back to your full height and focus on him before spreading. “He does, I promise you he does Y/N. He just… he’s inexperienced.”

“Oh you don’t say.” Your laugh was mocking and mean and you would’ve felt more guilty if it wasn’t for the anger coursing through you, more convinced now they had been messing with you.

“I’m serious.” His tone was harsher now that you were seemingly making fun of his friend, his touch still gentle despite the slight edge to his gaze. “He’s never even kissed a girl before.”

“What?” You were fully pausing in your attempts to leave now and staring at him with a bewildered expression, eyes shooting to the hallway and for a second you wondered if Heeseung was potentially listening in on your conversation considering you weren’t exactly whispering.

“Just don’t leave yet, okay?” Jake’s voice was soft and reassuring and your eyes dropped down to the way he was holding your arm for a second before you were nodding in confirmation.

He was letting out a relieved sigh and then disappeared down the hallway quickly, leaving you standing there awkwardly before you decided to go and sit on the couch. What he said hadn’t completely shocked you since you figured Heeseung didn’t have much experience due to his demeanor but you didn’t expect him to be at absolutely zero especially since he was definitely attractive and had at least one outgoing person in his social circle.

It was a few minutes before Jake was coming back down the hallway and searching the room for you, stopping for a beat when he saw you sitting uncomfortably on their couch.

Heeseung was trailing behind him and he somehow looked even more awkward than he had back in his bedroom, shoulders tensed and eyes set on the floor in front of him so he didn’t accidentally make eye contact with you. He only got more unnerved when Jake was sitting on one side of you, leaving him no choice but to sit on your right and sandwich you between them.

Neither of them were touching you but the air was heavy and you were feeling slightly anxious considering you didn’t exactly know them that well and you were sure why Jake had asked you to stay.

“Is somebody going to speak or are you just going to stare at me all night?” Your tone was snappy again and you uncomfortably shifted in your spot when Jake let out a small disappointed sigh even though you had a feeling it had more to do with his silent friend than your harshness.

“He really does like you.” His voice sounded more exhausted now like he was sick of having to repeat it and you looked at him for a few seconds before moving your stare towards Heeseung.

“You do?” Your tone was still on the colder side as you addressed him and his eyes widened for a beat before he was nodding in agreement. You were grateful he atleast could admit it even if he couldn’t say it outright but you were losing your patience for the weird game of telephone that was happening between the three of you. “Kissing isn’t that scary, all you had to do was ask.”

He didn’t say anything, not that you expected any different from him, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes slid over your face until he was looking behind you towards his friend.

You sighed softly even though the action spiked your curiosity, shifting so you were facing him on the couch with your back towards Jake, scooting towards the quiet boy so your knee was bumping into the side of his thigh. He swallowed harshly and you spotted a hint of red creeping back up his neck, only worsening when you were leaning closer to him and glancing at his parted lips. “Can I kiss you?”

He seemed startled but not at all by the fact his friend was still in the room, sitting on the same couch as you and watching the two of you intensely as you tried to navigate his silence. He was nodding softly but you could tell he was nervous, even more so when you were leaning forward to press against him and he stayed rigid.

You pecked his lips a few times softly, not able to do much else considering he wasn’t moving at all and you were two seconds from pulling away and abandoning the idea completely before Jake was speaking from behind you.

“Show him properly.” His tone was lower than you’d heard it before and you jumped slightly at the reminder that he was there, his voice closer than you remembered.

“What?” You were turning your body back around to be able to look at him but you paused when you saw the way he was looking at you, close enough now that if you completely turned your head your noses would have bumped into each other.

“That isn’t a kiss.” He was shaking his head just enough for it to be noticeable and his hair fell into his face more, blonde strands covering his eyes and making him look more disheveled than you’d seen him look before. You were offended for half a second and planning to explain to him why kissing Heeseung was almost impossible but you stopped when you realized he was staring down at your lips as they parted to speak.

He seemed to notice you’d stopped because of his gaze and he met your eyes for just a second before he was surging forward to kiss you.

You were only startled for a second before melting against him, leaning forward in his direction when you felt his hand gripping your chin almost harshly and keeping you in place as he moved against you. He was turning your head at an angle and you realized it was to give Heeseung better viewing access, forgetting all about it when Jake was slipping his tongue into your mouth.

He was the complete opposite of Heeseung in general but especially when it came to kissing and you barely had any time to process it, wet and sloppy as he squeezed your face again before pushing your head back so you weren’t touching anymore.

You watched him with a startled expression, slightly dazed from how out of nowhere this all seemed and the lingering feeling of his spit on your chin. You imagined you looked a bit stupid in that moment, eyes wide as you stared at him with slightly squished cheeks between his big hand. He didn’t seem to mind considering he was smiling softly at you for a second before turning your head so you were facing Heeseung again.

You’d almost completely forgotten about him and a wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over you until you realized he looked almost as affected as you did, staring at you intensely with red cheeks and low eyes.

Jake was nudging you in his direction wordlessly and you followed his silent command easily, leaning into Heeseung again and this time finally being able to kiss him properly. He still was amateurish and seemed a bit lost but seeing a direct example must have given him some direction considering he was atleast moving with you now, kissing you much slower and sweeter than how Jake was just a few seconds again.

It felt overly dirty to kiss two people back to back so quickly like this but it strangely sent a fire to your lower stomach instead of disgusting you, feeling the other boys presence and command behind your back even though he wasn’t touching you and hadn’t vocally said anything.

Heeseung was pulling away to take a breath, his glasses sliding down his nose, and you tried to catch your own but you didn’t have a chance considering Jake’s hand was gripping your chin again and turning you back towards him.

His mouth was on yours again and you let out a soft whine at the feeling of him sitting up slightly so he could push himself deeper against you, licking into your mouth so vulgarly that you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped from your mouth into his. Your chest was rising and falling quickly as you got overwhelmed between them, only getting faster when he was turning you softly so you were facing forward.

You were confused for a second before he was pulling off the kiss and grabbing just underneath your knee, pulling your left leg over his lap so you were spread wide open and facing the TV, head lolling back against the couch in a kiss drunk daze when his mouth was moving down your neck and biting down softly on your skin.

His hand was softly caressing your knee that was on top of his lap and you spread your legs more to try and get him to move it up slightly, not even realizing the movement was causing your other leg to be pushed against Heeseung’s frame until he was hesitantly touching the smooth skin of your thigh. He didn’t hitch it over his lap like his friend did but he was at least touching you finally and you gasped softly as you looked at him with hooded eyes.

He still seemed nervous and awkward but you watched a small wave of confidence come over him from your reaction, his hand large enough to cover a lot of your bare thigh and even accidentally hitch closer to your core once he started to rub it softly. You were letting out another small whine and impatiently lifting your hips to try and scoot further down the couch, purposely causing their hands to slide up your legs and finally touch you where you needed.

Heeseung moved his hand back down to your thigh swiftly but Jake stayed touching you under your skirt, a soft chuckle falling from his lips due to your neediness.

“Look at you.” He was speaking in a low tone against your neck and another shiver ran through you when you felt his breath on the side of your face, turning your head a bit so you could look at him as he spoke. “Spread open so nicely for us.”

The use of the word grouping him and Heeseung together didn’t miss you and neither did the dirty feeling it brought along with it, fully processing by now that you were being touched by two different set of hands and their spit was mixing together on your tongue. Your hips rolled on their own as he spoke so vulgarly, eyes shutting in pleasure when you felt his thumb shift closer to your core.

He didn’t waste any time and didn’t bother teasing you any further thankfully, shifting in his spot on the couch so he could watch your reaction even when he hand was sliding up your stomach and then back down inside of your panties, both of you pausing for a second when he made contact with the wetness dripping down your thighs now.

You let out a soft cry at the feeling of him touching you considering how sensitive you were and you didn’t care enough to be embarrassed of the fact you were seconds away from leaking onto their couch, hitching your legs up further to try and get him keep touching you where you needed him most.

Breath hitching next to you caught your attention and you glanced over lazily to see Heeseung staring down at where Jake’s hand had gone, eyes wide as he caught sight of what was happening and saw how wet you’d gotten just from kissing them both. He must’ve felt you staring because he was making eye contact with you seconds later, freezing up until your eyes were dropping down to his lips and a whine was slipping from your mouth again.

He thankfully got the message and he was taking a deep breath before leaning in to kiss you again, his hand on your thigh stilling as he put all of his focus on kissing you softly.

The contrast between him gently kissing you like you were fragile versus Jake roughly gripping your leg and keeping you spread open wide for him was making your head dizzy and you could barely keep up with Heeseung’s mouth. He didn’t seem to mind considering he continued to keep leaning into you and licking softly against your mouth, letting out small gasps and groans everytime you sucked on his tongue or wrapped it with yours.

“Fuck hyung she’s getting so wet from kissing you.” Jake sounded almost pained next to your ear and you wondered if it was from the feeling of your cunt or the sight of you and Heeseung sloppily kissing just a few inches from his face.

Heeseung ignored him but you felt his hand tighten against your thigh at his friends words, rolling your hips again at the feeling and moaning into the boys mouth when Jake’s fingers started to rub your sensitive clit in slow circles. Your hands were coming up to grip onto one of Heeseung’s shoulders, moaning sharply at the sensation and nearly losing your mind from the amount of pleasure you were receiving between them.

“Please please.” You were suddenly begging but you weren’t exactly sure who you were talking to or what you were asking, overwhelmed with desperation for both of them.

“What baby?” Jake was asking softly in your ear again but his tone was almost mocking, still rubbing you with his fingers and keeping your legs spread almost painfully wide. “Tell me what you want and we’ll give it to you.”

You thought for a few seconds the best you could through the haze, glancing at Heeseung for confirmation and watching as he eagerly nodded in agreement before softly squeezing your thigh again. You were opening your mouth to try and request moving further when you were cut off by the sound of fist pounding on the door.

All at once it hit you, the panic of possibly being caught in such a vulnerable position followed by the embarrassment and self disgust considering you were spread between two men that you didn’t know very well, wet around one of their fingers and practically begging for them to keep touching you. You felt like somebody had thrown a bucket of cold water at you and you were swiftly sitting up on the couch, smacking Jake’s hand away and fixing your skirt after he’d removed it.

He watched you for a second with panic in his eyes before the knocking resumed even louder, annoyance settling over his face as he let out a rough sigh and stood up off the couch to go and answer it.

Your hand was shakily coming up to cover your mouth and you tried your best to ignore the fact Heeseung was still sitting next to you, mouth wet from where you’d been desperately licking into the kiss. You could feel him shifting uncomfortably and you were worried he was planning to speak to you so you stood up and quickly rushed down the hallway towards the bathroom as you heard Jake start to greet the guest for the party you’d completely forgotten about.

——

You stayed in the bathroom for around forty minutes until you felt like it was less noticeable you had just been seconds away from getting fingered, waiting for the music to start playing and the sounds of people drinking and loosening up to overwhelm the loud pounding of your heart.

When you ventured back out into the main area you still felt just as embarrassed, being the only person who wasn’t mutual friends with somebody there. You were barely friends with Jake and Heeseung either and you suddenly felt like an intruder despite how intimate you’d all been together less than an hour ago.

You had a few drinks to try and calm your nerves but avoided making conversation with any of the boys friends, pretending you didn’t feel Jake continuously staring and checking on you throughout the night. Heeseung was nowhere to be found for the first hour but eventually you realized that he was hiding out in the corner by the speaker, taking sips out of a half empty cup and looking just as awkward as you felt despite the fact it was his party and these were his friends.

It must’ve been the past annoyance you felt towards his staring at the diner mixed with the alcohol starting to settle over you that drove you in his direction.

He tensed when he saw you steadily approaching but then his gaze was dropping down to your mouth and staying there.

“Stop staring at my lips.” You were spitting out at him and he flinched back at the tone of your voice, glancing around like he was checking to see if anybody had heard you. “Do you guys do this type of shit all the time?”

“W-what? What are you talking about?” He was speaking louder than normal so you could hear him over the music and leaning forward to hear you before deciding against it and pressing back into the corner. His eyebrows were pulled forward in confusion and another wave of annoyance washed over you, this time at yourself for finding him extra cute considering he was almost pouting down at you.

“Find a girl you like and pretend like you don’t have any experience so she fucks you and your friend.” You delivery was sharp and deadpanned like you were overly confident in your discovery but you knew that wasn’t what was happening here exactly, just saying anything to try and hurt him since you were feeling embarrassed.

“How could you say that?” His tone was still soft like it always was but you could tell he was offended by your accusation, pausing and looking over your shoulder so quickly you didn’t even realize it.

You were forced to in a second however when you could feel somebody approaching from behind you, already knowing who it was despite not realizing how loud and heated your conversation with Heeseung had just gotten until you turned your head to see the concerned expression on Jake’s face as he stopped a few inches away from the two of you. “What happened?”

Nobody said anything for a few beats and your jaw clenched with irritation, crossing your arms and feeling embarrassed again now that the two of them were with you. “She thinks we lied and used her.” Heeseung was butting in to explain awkwardly and you shifted uncomfortably when Jake’s surprised gaze shot over to you.

He didn’t immediately move to deny it but you could tell by his expression that he was taken off guard by the fact you were feeling that way, glancing down at your crossed arms under your chest before his gaze was softening and he started to shake his head in denial. You knew by now that you’d been wrong and they weren’t using you but you were too far into your bratty fit to completely backtrack.

Jake’s big hands were coming back up to your arms again like they had earlier when he was stopping you from leaving and your breath hitched when you looked at his fingers, a heat rolling over you at the lingering feeling of him rubbing you slowly under your skirt.

He had originally planned to defend himself and Heeseung but when he noticed your dazed out expression and wandering gaze, he paused and a smirk built back up on his face.

You let him tug you forward by your arms and spin you around softly, facing you towards Heeseung who looked extremely confused by what was happening considering you’d just been bitching him out harshly only a few seconds ago. He watched as his friends hands wrapped around your stomach and pinned your back against his front, staying still against the wall even when Jake was softly moving the both of you to the music and the tension left your shoulders.

“You feel used?” He was whispering in your ear and a breath escaped you, head falling back to land on his shoulder from the pleasure of him rubbing against you. “We aren’t using you but… something tells me you wouldn’t mind.”

The two of you were facing Heeseung which meant your backs were turned towards the party and other guest but it still felt extremely dangerous to be dancing like this, especially when his hand was sliding down your stomach and pushing under the waistline of your skirt. You faltered in place and would’ve tipped forward and fallen if it wasn’t for Heeseung instinctively stepping off the wall and catching you against him.

He tensed along with you considering he was now flush against your front and his hands were holding your hips softly to help steady you.

He was making the move to take a few steps back towards the wall but stopped when your hands were reaching forward to grab onto his shoulders, keeping him pressed against you and titling back again so you could feel Jake on your back. You were completely sandwiched between them now and a small whine slipped out of you when you felt the bolder boys fingers softly rubbing your clit through your underwear.

“Watch her hyung, so filthy for us even when she’s upset.” Heeseung seemed thrown off by being so directly addressed but he followed orders easily, staring down at you intensely and turning red in the face at the way you struggled to keep your eyes open.

You knew he was a lot bigger than both you and Jake but the difference was especially noticeable now that you were all pressed together, towering over the two of you and completely shielding your body from the view of people passing by as his friend continued to touch you.

“Kiss her Hee, I wanna see how wet she can get.” His voice was low and almost a groan and you felt his hips moving again behind you, rubbing his hardness against your back and impatiently rolling up your skirt more so he could drag himself along your folds without the second layer of fabric in the way.

It took him a second but Heeseung eventually listened, leaning down to kiss you now that you were standing and it felt particularly dirty to be meeting his lips in this position. You gasped into his mouth when Jake harshly pinched your sensitive bud, giving him the opportunity to lick into your open lips and stick his tongue deeper than he had earlier.

You were quickly learning that he was an extremely dirty kisser and he almost seemed feverish the longer he felt you against him, momentarily losing his shy demeanor and becoming completely addicted to kissing you so messily. You were turning your head so you could suck his tongue further into his mouth and a wave of satisfaction hit you when he was whining softly and bucking his hips forward, both sending you further into Jake and letting you feel his own hardness.

Jake’s finger was slipping inside you as you practically let his friend fuck your mouth with his tongue, wetness dripping down your thigh and crying out softly at the feeling of his thick digit finally pushing into you.

You were standing onto your tiptoes and dropping back down to try to get him to fuck you with his fingers but he was roughly groping your chest as a warning to stop, biting against your neck softly and moving his hand under your chin. He wasn’t exactly choking you but the feeling of his large hand completely covering your throat brought out another whine that Heeseung quickly swallowed.

“Fuck Y/N you’d let us take you right here wouldn’t you?” His voice was breathy and he rubbed himself against you again in sync with the assault his fingers continued. “Have you taken two cocks before baby or would we have to force them inside?”

You were shaking your head and clawing at Heeseung’s shoulders absentmindedly, breathy moans falling from your lips and stopping you from being able to kiss properly. He took the hint and pulled back to let you speak clearly but his eyes stayed on your wet lips and chin. “Have to force it Jake, would be so tight you wouldn’t fit.”

“Is that what you want angel? You want both of us inside you, fucking your greedy hole so loose.” He was panting as he spoke and you could feel tears coming to your eyes from the speed of his fingers inside you.

His hand on your neck was squeezing tightly for a second and taking your breath from you before he was moving it up to roughly grip your chin, tugging your head straight so you had no choice but to stare up at Heeseung who was watching the two of you with a wild expression, face completely red and glasses slightly skewed from your intense kissing. “Look at him and say it.”

You shook your head for a second and winced, feeling overwhelmingly shy for some reason now that you were looking at the less forward boy despite the fact you were still pressed against him and could feel that he was also hard against your stomach. You could still taste him in your mouth even but you weren’t able to bring yourself to say it right away, snapping back out of it when Jake lifted his hand to lightly slap your cheek in warning.

“I want you.” You were staring up at him as you rushed it out in an embarrassed mumble, your cheeks heating up more but feeling the familiar twist in your stomach when his eyes flashed with something you hadn’t seen before. “Want you both.”

Heeseung was moving forward before you could even process it and suddenly you were kissing again, his big hands coming up to cup your face softly and keep you against him as he fully soaked you in.

You were getting needy and impatient, Jake’s thick fingers not being enough considering the amount of touching and overstimulation you were getting between the two of them. You almost wanted to cry thinking about the party happening behind you, wanting nothing more than to be alone so you could completely give yourself over to the two boys.

It was beyond dirty and completely unlike you considering you weren’t a big fan of hookups in general, never even considering letting two people share you at once, but you’d never craved something so badly and you felt like you’d nearly die if you didn’t get to feel them soon.

Heeseung was pulling off the kiss and watching you as he took deep breaths, eyes frantic and continuously glancing between the way you were panting against Jake’s shoulder and his friends expression as he pushed his fingers deeper inside you.

“Jake, make them leave.” He was muttering quickly and your eyes widened in surprise for a second hearing him speak so directly, a similar reaction happening behind you considering Jake’s hands were stuttering for a second.

They had some sort of silent communication over your shoulder that didn’t take long for you to understand considering Jake was taking his hand out of your skirt and softly leaning you onto Heeseung’s tall frame. You could feel his lips pressing against the side of your head before he was backing up to presumably tell the guest to leave.

Heeseung was awkwardly holding you for a second and you felt slight whiplash from his change of demeanor again, happy when he at least started to move and take you back down to his bedroom.

He was gently laying you on the bed and sitting back up on his knees to watch you for a second, scanning down your body as your chest continued to roughly rise and fall from your near orgasm just a few seconds ago. He was looking more hesitate now like he had originally and your gaze softened as you looked at him watching you so intensely, remembering this was his first time doing something so intense.

Your hand was coming out to grab onto his and he was freezing from his position beside you, kneeling on the bed and towering over you but not looking the least bit intimidating.

“Please touch me Hee.” Your voice was still coming out in a whine, desperately tugging on his hand to try to get him to fulfill your request. His eyes widened at your tone and he glanced down at your hand over his before shaking his head softly, stuttering out something you couldn’t understand. “Please baby please, I’ll show you how but I can’t wait.”

“F-fuck we should really let Jake come back, I won’t be any good.” He was shaking his head again but not moving his hand away when you were lifting it and placing it against your stomach, your muscles clenching under his warm skin and a heavy breath slipping from your lips.

Heeseung watched you with wide eyes as you pushed his hand under your skirt, struggling a bit and whining softly considering he wasn’t helping at all. You released his hand for a second and thankfully he didn’t remove it from your stomach, giving you the chance to unbutton it and pull it down your legs so he could have more access.

You were holding his wrist softly and moving him back down towards your underwear, back arching up off the bed in a small cry when he was finally touching you over the fabric and you heard his breath catch in his throat when he felt your wetness soaking the material.

“You’re s-so good please Hee please.” You were crying out softly and rocking your hips up against his hand, a handful of tears slipping from your eyes considering you were so overwhelmed and he still wasn’t really touching you. “Fuck you’re so big.”

The last comment slipped out accidentally, completely distracted by the fact his hand almost covered the entirety of your cunt, but it seemed like he liked it considering he was shifting on the bed and finally applying some pressure to you.

A low moan sounded through the room and it took you a second to even realize it was coming from you, his fingers soft and inexperienced as he started rubbing you and you felt him tense when your wet panties were sliding to the side and he was touching your bare cunt for the first time. Your hands were instinctively coming up to hug his arm and try to tug him down towards you, grateful when he shifted so he was laying beside you and not kneeling anymore.

He kept his fingers on you even when you were pulling him in for a messy kiss, gliding your tongue over his lips and moaning into his open mouth when his fingers slipped again and applied more pressure.

You didn’t realize Jake had entered the room even after the bed dipped down under his weight, only snapping out of your haze when Heeseung removed his lips from yours so he could stutter out an apology to his friend. You were sitting up slightly to look at him and a whine left you automatically seeing how dark his gaze was as he watched you desperately moving against his friends hand.

“She’s as much yours as she is mine.” He was dismissing the other boys apology in a curt statement but it made your head spin, the implication of them both owning you together sending another wave of heat through you and another sob hit you. “Hyung, hold her legs open for me.”

Heeseung was pausing like he was trying to figure out how to do that, eventually scooting behind you so he could tug you up between his legs. You were resting against his chest and stomach, elbows on his thighs and you could feel how hard he was pressed tight to your lower back. He moved you easily, like you barely weighed anything and his size made you ten times wetter than you had been before.

You felt extra exposed now that his hands weren’t covering you, embarrassment coming back when he was hitching up your knees so he could spread your legs and completely expose you to Jake who was watching the two of you curiously.

“Look how messy she is. She must really like you hyung.” He was smiling at the two of you but it didn’t meet his eyes fully, something darker and more intense behind his expression and you tried not to feel too intimidated when he was moving closer to you on the bed.

He watched you for a second more before he was pressing a kiss against your knee, moving his lips down your right thigh and pausing for just a second before he was putting his mouth on your wet core. A gasp flew out of you and you would’ve clamped his head in your thighs if it wasn’t for Heeseung’s hand gripping your knee tightly and keeping them spread open.

“Fuck fuck.” Your hips were instinctively moving with Jake’s mouth, practically making out with your dripping pussy and you were once again overwhelmed in a way you’d never experienced before. Heeseung was softly brushing your hair out of your face with his free hand but you barely even noticed, the room filling up with the sounds of Jake’s mouth on you.

His tongue was pushing past your folds and prodding at your entrance, drawing another low whine from you when he was glancing up at you from between your legs. His eyes were mischievous and you could barely hold the eye contact for more than a few seconds, leaning back against Heeseung’s chest and gripping his arm for support.

“Take her top off.” He was pulling off of you to speak to the boy behind you and your eyes locked on your wetness coating his chin, his lips quirking into a smirk when he noticed what you were focusing on before he was softly kissing your thigh again.

Heeseung easily sat you up, almost rough in the way he was moving you so weightlessly if it wasn’t for how gentle his hands were. He was pulling your top off and fixing your hair before pausing and you felt his hips twitch from underneath you, figuring he just be looking at your bare chest. You knew he wouldn’t move on his own so you didn’t bother waiting, taking his free hand that wasn’t on your knee and forcing him to roughly pull at your chest.

Jake was smiling at your neediness before going back between your legs, the pleasure from his mouth paired with Heeseung’s hands on your chest and nipples was almost too much and you only lasted about thirty seconds before you were roughly tugging on the younger boys hair to warn him to stop.

He froze completely and looked up at you, beautiful between your legs and even more so with the concern in his gaze. He quickly realized what you were needing however and he lost the soft expression.

“Sure you can take us both?” He was asking as he sat up on his knees, looping his hands under your thighs and tugging you forward so you were sliding closer to him on the bed. Your head was on Heeseung’s lap now and he let out a soft whine when you were instinctively nuzzling against the hardness in his pants, your cheek pressing on him.

You didn’t bother with verbally answering him considering how dizzy you felt, knowing your voice would just come out slurred and weak, but you spread your legs more in front of him so he could fully get the memo. His eyes were darkening more before he was gesturing something you couldn’t understand to the boy behind you, a cry coming from your lips when he was shifting and moving away from you.

“Be patient sweet girl, he’s just moving down here.” Jake’s voice was coming through again and a pout formed on your face instinctively at his soft tone, getting close to release twice now without finishing and feeling overly sensitive and needy. “She’s pretty isnt she?”

You were confused for a second about who he was talking to until you realized Heeseung was down by the end of the bed now, fully seeing you for the first time since he’d undressed you and staring at your body with widened eyes. They flickered up to yours when he realized you were watching and waiting for a response.

“So pretty, she’s so pretty.” His voice was weak and Jake laughed softly at the taken tone his friend had, nodding in agreement before he was shifting again.

“Gonna fuck you first alright baby? Get you nice and ready for hyung.” His voice was dropping lower and getting more serious, tugging his shirt over his head and barely giving you a second to process anything before he was undoing his belt with one hand, holding your legs open with the other.

“Both I want both.” You were whining out in disagreement, a small sob hitting you again at the thought of not being stretched by both of them together.

Jake paused for a second before he was glancing to his side towards Heeseung, waiting and having some silent communication together until he was turning back towards you and nodding. “You’ll get us both don’t worry, still need to stretch you first.”

You were almost worried he’d go back to using his fingers, as much as you liked them inside you you were starting to think you’d die if you didn’t have something bigger in the next few seconds. Thankfully he seemed to be feeling the same considering he was wasting no time before lining himself up with your entrance, kissing your forehead quickly before pushing inside you.

Your breath caught in your throat and your back arched off the bed instinctively, bunching the sheets up in a tight fist and you wished Heeseung was close enough to hold onto. You didn’t get a chance to look at Jake’s size but he was clearly bigger than you had planned for considering the stretch you were feeling just from his thick tip inside you, a pained cry filling the room at the same time he hissed in pleasure.

“Fuck Y/N, how are you so fucking tight.” He was speaking through clenched teeth and his head dropped down onto your shoulder, shutting his eyes to try and calm down before he came too early. “Baby you’ve got to stop clenching around me or I won’t last.”

“You’re hurting her Jake.” Heeseung’s concerned voice was coming from the right and you glanced over at him, face pulled into a grimace still but softening slightly at the worry on his face.

It made you feel better that he was more concerned with your pleasure than potentially not being able to fuck you but you almost sobbed again at the thought of not getting to feel him tonight and you quickly started to shake your head and reach a hand out towards him.

“Can take it, I can take it I promise.” You didn’t need to say much for Jake to believe you considering he was using your distraction as the perfect time to fully push his length inside you.

Your hands were wrapping around his back to claw at his skin, somehow not noticing how broad he was until he was on top of you like this but you felt the familiar heat of pleasure finally resurfacing below the pain and you practically whimpered at the boy. “Please fuck me, please I need it.”

He was kissing your lips gently before taking a second to adjust his position, meeting your eyes and then pulling himself nearly all the way out of you. The previous stretch did almost nothing to prepare you for the feeling of him slamming back inside you, never feeling so stuffed before and almost getting lightheaded from how full of his cock you were. You couldn’t imagine fitting more inside you but you glanced back at Heeseung and another wave of desperation hit.

Jake let out a low growl before he was aggressively lifting you up off the bed, holding you still in his lap for a moment with a slow buck of his hips to keep you moaning and whining and you vaguely heard him barking an order towards the other boy.

You didn’t fully understand what was happening, rocking your hips and riding Jake lazily with continued cries and begs for him to lay you back down and fuck you properly. When he was finally listening and laying you back down on the bed, this time Heeseung was behind you and a breath of relief escaped you.

Part of you felt guilty that his first time wasn’t necessarily romantic or intimate but it was hard to think about when he started to push his cock into you alongside Jake’s, the stretch almost unbearable and you heard Jake spit out something else you couldn’t make out.

You assumed he was telling the inexperienced boy to stop because he froze up underneath you and laid his forehead on sweaty shoulder, small whimpers vibrating your skin as he tried to stop himself from either pushing all the way inside before you were ready or cumming from the tight and wet squeeze.

“Fuck she’s so wet.” His voice behind you was making you dizzy, taking on a deeper tone you hadn’t heard from him before and you reached a hand back just to feel any part of his skin.

The two boys helped lower you back onto their cocks and you nearly blacked out from how deep they were inside you, the pleasure multiplied by the fact they were both sharing your hole together and you were finally going to be fucked open by them.

“Gonna ruin this pussy for anyone else.” Jake was whispering it into your mouth and you watched him with widened eyes, shivering when he was licking against your tongue sloppily before tugging your head back by your hair so you were resting against Heeseung’s shoulder. “Always gonna need two cocks filling this nasty hole up, never going to be satisfied with just one again.”

“Please.” You were gasping the word out in one breath, repeating it a few times in a slurred fit of begging before trying to gather as much energy as you could to lift yourself up and down on their cocks. You failed and fell back down on shaky thighs, crying softly and rolling your hips slightly. “Fuck me please fuck me, ruin me. I want to be yours.”

That seemed to cause something to snap in the boy in front of you and he wasted no more time, aggressively fucking himself inside you and at the same time lifting you up a bit so you were coming back down onto Heeseung’s cock too, helping the other boy set a steady rhythm considering he was already close just from the foreplay you’d had earlier since he was particularly sensitive.

“You’re ours, gonna fucking ruin you.” Jake was talking continuously into your shoulder but you were barely able to hear him after a few seconds, lost in the feeling of the stretch and how deep they were inside you. Both boys were caging you in and someone’s hands were roughly playing with your nipples, anothers tugging your hair and it was all so much you hardly felt like you were able to breathe.

You were a mess of skin and lust, your whines mixing with a combination of their low moans and you were suddenly very grateful they’d cleared out the apartment so you didn’t have to worry about biting your tongue.

Heeseung was reaching forward to press down on your stomach and you heard a groan slip out of him. “Fuck dude, I can feel us inside her.”

That seemed to be enough for him considering he was sucking in a sharp breath, worrying you for a second before you realized he was cumming inside you. You were upset for half a second before you thought about both of them filling you up with their cum, mixing together and leaking out of your used hole onto Heeseung’s bed.

“Cum inside Jake.” You were begging him and he gave you a bewildered look, almost seeming like he was going to disagree until he leaned back and saw the absolute desperation and need on your face. His jaw clenched and he was fucking you even rougher, barely noticing his friend slipping out of you and helping you rock against Jake since you were both exhausted.

He was rushing forward to kiss you and your teeth clashed, drunk from the taste of his spit in your mouth and his cock slamming into you even after he was coming undone and filling you up even more. Heeseung’s hands were slipping between you and Jake to rub your clit softly and surge of pride hit you, moaning into Jake’s mouth and letting him suck your tongue into it.

The extra stimulation was all you needed to fall apart and both boys held you between them as your hips twitched and your stomach clenched in pleasure, feeling Jake slip out of you so he could watch the way your hole clenched around nothing and started to leak with the mess the three of you had caused.

You were too exhausted to feel awkward even though now that they weren’t stuffing you so full you couldn’t think, you were slightly humiliated and feeling a bit dirty from how sweaty you were between the two friends.

All it took was a hand from behind you gently rubbing your stomach and a soft kiss on your forehead from the other boy to calm your nerves, falling back onto the bed together in a mess of limbs and nervous giggles.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung #heeseung drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #jake enhypen #jake smut #heejake smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen fanfic

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soohiefan13 · 2 months ago

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better? (momokarun) short fic!

notes: 1.7k

warning: depressive behaviors

⍣ ೋ

at this point, it had been six agonizingly slow days-- for both momo and ken. he had gone a full week without seeing his best friend at school, and since he had no way of contacting her (since her phone was blown to bits, and she can never seem to get her hands on a new one), he was left with no other choice than to go to her house.

and he did... everyday. but momo refused to let him see her in her state. laying in her bed, deepening the "momo-shaped" crater she was creating in her mattress. body stiff from laying there so long, only getting up one or two times a day to use the restroom and stand in the kitchen, hungry, but ultimately deciding against eating. she hadn't bathed or even changed clothes for the past week. momo knew it was gross and she hated herself for it; her pathetic behavior. but she just couldn't bring herself to get up and do something about it. her grandma would knock on her door and bring her a snack every once in a while.

"hey, kid. brought you a little something. eat your fill." her grandma would say, and trade out a plate of food momo didn't eat hours before for a fresh plate of food, which would end up sitting there for hours.

it was raining when ken began his walk to momo's from the corner store. he went in and bought some of momo's favorite treats, trying to build up the courage to visit her again. he prayed she wouldn't turn him away this time. when he finished paying for his items, he looked out the large store windows and sighed deeply. he didn't bring an umbrella.

when he knocked on momo's front door, he expected her grandma to open up abruptly, but instead ken stood there for almost ten minutes. he tried to peer through any windows and see if there was anyone home, but the house was completely empty.

did her grandma finally get momo to leave the house? god, I hope so.

but as ken looked down, he noticed a flower pot that he didn't recognize. curious, the boy crouched down and picked it up. clanking against the concrete porch, fell a house key which had a little note attached to it.

hey four-eyes, unfortunately I had to make a quick trip out of town, but momo is still up in her room. counting on you, kid.

another big sigh blew past ken's lips, as he unlocked the door and let himself in.

he carefully took off his shoes, as if he really were sneaking into someone's home. maybe he just didn't want to frighten miss ayase. he stood there for a moment, staring at the stairs. momo's grandma wasn't there to ask her if it was okay that ken came upstairs and saw her. now, he could just go upstairs himself and open her door on his own. but was that okay? was it decent for a boy to just barge into a girl's room after she had been shunning him away for a week?

at this point, ken didn't care too much for decency. his care for momo overruled everything.

that's why he was at her bedroom door. he took a deep breath and pushed the door open, softly, so as to not frighten her.

her room was surprisingly clean and tidy. he assumed her grandma did that for her while she was sleeping. it was mainly her nightstand that was the mess. scattered books on yokai and aliens. a collection of empty soda cans and a few snack wrappers. a bottle of sleeping pills. and a tv remote. he glanced over to the television. there was an old sci-fi film playing, quietly, almost inaudible over the rain. ken sat down the damp, plastic bag of treats and took a moment, before making his way to the blanketed figure in bed. he stared at her, watching in relief as her figure rose and fell, snoring softly. he didn't really think she wouldn't be breathing, but there was a fear, way deep down. he reached out for her. should he say something? should he shake her awake or would that be too aggressive? unable to decide, he sat down on the empty space on her bed.

surprisingly, this woke momo up. her eyes opened, still groggy with sleep. she knew someone was in the room with her, sitting at the end of her bed. she also knew that if it was her grandma, she would have made herself known. anxiously, she tried to look around as much as possible without moving her body. in the reflection of her window, she saw the familiar back of her best friend. for a moment, she was so glad to see him. then, she was humiliated and petrified with fear.

"okarun..." she choked out, her throat dry from having just woken up. she felt the boy shoot up off of her bed, gasping in surprise.

"miss ayase! I apologize for letting myself in-- but i've just been so worried about you, I didn't know what else to do."

she grimaced. she hated herself even more for worrying him like this. "it's okay, okarun. um... could you just stand over there, and face the wall. I need to get up and i'm... not wearing any pants..."

the sound of ken slapping his hands over his eyes, followed by him scurrying to the corner brought momo a tiny bit of amusement.

slowly, she uncovered herself and rolled over. she sat up in bed, feet hovering over the floor. after a moment, she let her feet touch the cold floor. then she stood up. but in the same moment, she collapsed. the pain of hunger mixed with the weakness in her body from laying down for so long made her unable to stand. ken whipped around, completely disregarding momo's requests. he crouched down next to her, worry taking him over once more.

"miss ayase! are you alright? here, let me-"

she swatted his hand away, frustrated that he was seeing her so pathetic. "okarun! what did I say... stay over there!" she started to push herself up, but collapsed again. ken stared at her figure. she had lost weight and her skin was pale. her hair was dull and her whole body shook. he couldn't help himself. he scooped her up and carried her to her bathroom. he sat her on the floor, her back up against the shower door. momo grumbled, attempting to swat him away again but to no avail. she felt a cool, damp rag press against her forehead. a defeated sigh spilled past her lips.

ken started by brushing her hair. then he helped her brush her teeth. he rinsed off her face, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on her freshly cleaned forehead. he massaged her muscles, hoping her body would feel up to standing. sure enough, she did. he brought her a fresh change of clothes. she stood against the bathroom counter, staring at him as he walked over to her. he smiled at her.

"I'm glad you're feeling better..." he sat the clothes down next to her. momo just stared up at him. "do you want me to leave?"

momo blinked. "no! stay! i need to take a shower!" she blurted out. ken's face went red and he squeaked. momo shoved her face in her hands, covering her own flushed expression. "I mean-- stay in the house. I'll be back out in, like, ten minutes. I just need to clean up."

ken sighed and nodded. "in that case, is it okay if I wash your bed linens for you while I wait?"

it took over fiber of momo's being to not melt into a puddle of tears. she turned ken around, hiding her face again. "yes!" she yelped. "that's... real sweet of you okarun." she sniffled. "thank you..."

so, ken did just that. as soon as momo closed the bathroom door, he started stripping her bed. he carried the bed linens down stairs, careful not to trip. he took it up on himself to use the best-smelling laundry detergent they had, as well as a fabric softener. he wanted to completely clean this experience from momo's memory.

after a little while, momo slowly came downstairs, the view of ken sitting on the couch coming into her view. she smiled. ken turned to look her, then stood up.

"better?" he asked.

this time, momo couldn't hold back the tears. she stumbled over to him, toppling him back onto the couch. she gripped him tight, crying into his tee shirt. ken hugged her back, easing the both of them up into a sitting position. it was quiet for a moment, at least for ken. all momo could hear was his rapid heartbeat against her ear. she sniffled, looking up at ken with wet eyes.

"yea. I feel much better..." her eyes darted away from his. "but can I ask you for one more favor."

"anything, miss ayase." ken answered almost immediately, his eyes never leaving hers.

momo didn't say anything. she just looked back up at him, her face visibly warming up. ken bored his eyes into hers, heart beating faster. momo's heart was beating fast, too. her eyes flickered down to his lips and that was all it took.

ken pressed his lips against hers swiftly, but oh so softly. his brows furrowed and his hands seemed to melt into the small of her back. momo held the boy's face in her hands, screwing her eyes shut. he pulled her impossibly closer, letting out a sigh as momo made her way into his lap. her hands crept around to the nape of his neck, using her nails to softly scratch against the undercut she never admitted to adoring. another sign from ken.

then momo pulled away, planting kisses all over his face. ken leaned back, never letting her go.

"i love you, miss ayase." he breathed out, staring at the ceiling. the confession had his heart beating faster than he thought was humanly possible.

"yea... you, too." momo said simply. ken sat up to look at her. for some reason, he was surprised. she just scooted over, sitting on the couch, with her legs in his lap. she turned on the TV and started clicking through channels. "you in the mood for a sci-fi movie?" she asked.

"yea." ken answered, rubbing his thumb over her ankle.

"oh, and thank you... ken." momo said, not looking at him. a blush covered her fresh face.

"anything for you, miss ayase."

the low rumble of the washing machine seemed to wash the sound of rain away.

⍣ ೋ

#dandadan #momo ayase #ken takakura #Dan da dan #momokarun #momo x okarun #fanfic #soohiefan13

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bi-panicatthedisco · 10 months ago

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Random incorrect twst first-year quotes I saved

Deuce: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip!

Ace: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill!

Yuu: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out!

Jack: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times!

Sebek : Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up!

Epel: Throw a brick at someone to kill them!

Yuu: Time for plan G.

Jack: Don’t you mean plan B?

Yuu: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Epel: What about plan D?

Yuu: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Sebek : What about plan E?

Yuu: I’m hoping not to use it. Deuce dies in plan E.

Ace: I like plan E.

*when the Squad drops food*

Deuce: Eh, oh well.

Epel: FIVE-SECOND RULE!

Ace: FUCK!

Jack: *just gets more food*

Yuu: *drops to their knees and mourns the food*

Sebek : *eats the food off the ground*

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups*

Sebek, Jack, and Deuce: *spinning a little and talking*

Epel, Ace, and Yuu: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Epel: The floor is lava!

Jack: *helps Sebek onto the counter*

Ace: *kicks Deuce off the sofa*

Yuu: *lays on the floor*

Epel: ...Are you okay?

Yuu: No.

Jack: Man, they look like a real handful. How do you deal with them?

Yuu, watching Sebek screaming, Ace trying to set a sleeping Deuce on fire, and Epel choking on air: I don't know either.

Deuce: We need to distract these guys

Ortho: Leave it to me

Ortho: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Yuu, Ace, and Epel: *Immediately begin arguing*

Jack, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Ortho: I can help you with it!

Deuce: Yeah, sure.

Yuu: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Ace: lol nope.

Epel: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Jack: *Read 5:55pm*

Yuu: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Ortho: >:O language

Deuce: Yeah watch your fucking language

Epel: OKAY WHO TAUGHT DEUCE THE FUCK WORD?

Ace: 'The fuck word'.

Sebek: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Deuce: Oh my god they censored it

Epel: Say fuck, Sebek.

Ace: Do it, Sebek. Say fuck.

Yuu: Well, aren’t you all a rag-tag group of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts! Oh, let me guess: you’re out to save the world!

Jack: Well, actually, that sounds like a pretty fair assessment.

Deuce: More or less, I guess...

Ortho: That sounds awesome! Let’s do that!

Epel: I’m new here, but I am open to the concept.

Ace: I thought that’s what we were doing, guys, come on!

Yuu, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Ace: Hey.

Deuce: Hi.

Jack: Hello.

Ortho: Hey!

Yuu: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Epel: We were out of Doritos.

Ortho: Hewwo.

Ace: Hihiiiiii!

Sebek: Greetings, Humans.

Jack: Three kinds of people.

Deuce: I want pudding.

Jack: Four kinds of people.

Yuu: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?

Jack: Five kinds of people.

Yuu: Would you slap Deuce-

Ace: Yes.

Yuu: I didn't even finish!

Ace: Sorry, continue.

Yuu: Would you slap Deuce for 10 dollars?

Ace: I would do it for free.

Deuce: Rude...

Epel: Remember, when burying a body, make sure to cover it with endangered plants so it’s illegal to dig up!

Epel: Make sure to follow me for more gardening tips!

Grim: Tomorrow’s the Cooking Contest. Yuu always tells me one thing every year. They say, “You might win if you’d stop eating your entry!” But how would I know whether it’s an award-winning dish without tasting it first? This may be a problem humanity will have to grapple with for eternity…

Ace: It’s funny how well you and Sebek get along. Didn’t they hate you at first?

Yuu: Sebek hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.

Deuce: Where's Epel?

Yuu: Don't worry, I'll find them.

Yuu, shouting: Jack sucks!

Epel , distantly: Jack is the best person ever! Fuck you!

Yuu: Found them.

Yuu: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Grim : Mine just says "Grim no."

Yuu: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

Yuu: I have an idea.

Jack: A good idea?

Yuu: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Ortho: You believe me?

Yuu: Ortho, you’re the last good person on this planet. I‘d believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning.

Yuu: I give up. I am so tired.

Ace: Get the emergency supply!

Ortho: *carries Grim and places them in front of Yuu*

Grim: *smiles*

Yuu: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

#twst incorrect quotes #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst ace #ace trappola #twst deuce #deuce spade #twst jack #jack howl #twst epel #epel felmier #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #yuu twst #yuu #yuu twisted wonderland

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shubblelive · 2 years ago

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— INVITATION

summary : after a long day of work, wilbur is desperate to curl up and spend time with his favourite girl. only problem is you’re not speaking to him.

genre : angst -> fluff, happy ending

warnings : light swearing, mentions of food/eating, wilbur being mean

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is called a girl

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where the reader is an overall bubbly, energetic person and wilbur just suddenly lashes out at her one day, and she apologizes and goes home, and wilbur tries to call her and apologize and everything in the end it’s just fluff and apologies<33 tyy

word count : 2.1k

note : hi anon!! i hope you enjoy this fic, it’s a bit longer than i expected but i’m very very happy with it <3 also you referred to reader using she/her so i used those pronouns in the fic i hope that’s alright <333

you were wearing his favourite jumper. it was yours - he’d swear on it - but you were adamant that it belonged to him. it had, originally, as most of your jumpers were, been his. but he’d given it to you months ago, and you were still promising that you were going to return it one day. he hoped you didn’t.

you’d been stealing his clothes for as long as you two had been together, for the last four years he had bought every single shirt, jumper, jacket, with the knowledge that you would steal it. it made sense, in your earliest days, when the two of you were long distance. you’d arrive at his flat for a week with a half-packed suitcase, and you’d leave with nearly a drawer full of his sweaters. but even now that you lived ten minutes away, you still had a habit of nabbing his sweaters. he didn’t mind in the slightest, and most of the time he would offer up suggestions for articles of clothing you could take. you guys had been together for nearly five years, it felt weird for him to be territorial on his clothes, especially because you’d return them whenever he asked, the scent of your perfume mingling on the fabric. he absolutely loved seeing you so happy, and if you stealing a shirt or two did that then he was more than willing to comply.

or at least, he was usually. now, he was running late for a stream and he couldn’t find his grey jumper. he’d been tearing his bedroom apart piece by piece in an attempt to find it so he didn’t have to walk through the rain in just a t-shirt. he sighed and sat down on his bed, remembering that he gave it to you when he went over to your apartment earlier in the week. it had been five days since he’d seen you in person, and it was driving him crazy. he had planned to spend the night at your place after his stream though, and that was pulling him through. it was fine, he took a few deep breaths and went to go and find a jacket to wear, already pulling up twitter to post the stream would be ten or so minutes late. he remembered to tweet out about his late stream, but he hadn’t remembered to text you to tell you that he would be late coming over. you’d organised for seven, which gave him nearly three hours of streaming time, and he assured you that he wouldn’t be going for that long. he ended up jumping on a call with some other people while he played, though, and that completely distracted him. leaving the office at eight, he had his phone on speaker as he tried to order an uber and call you at the same time. he was exhausted, and of course he wanted to see you and spend time with his favourite girl, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to reach your house without falling asleep, and being more social sounded like torture.

his jacket was rough against his arms, and he remembered suddenly about the jumper. your call timed out and he finished ordering the uber for his own flat, moving to text you and tell you he didn’t feel up to hanging out.

he opened your message history, and was hit with a message from you from half-past six, over an hour and a half ago. hi wil, you’d opened with, and he softened, knowing his annoyance didn’t really mean anything. my neighbours are being really loud, so do you mind if we meet at your place? can’t wait to see you. there was another two, each sent half an hour apart, a second one apologising for messaging while he was streaming, and a third saying, hi i let myself in i hope that’s okay. are you almost home? your most recent message was nearing forty-five minutes ago, and he cursed under his breath, cancelling the uber knowing it would be faster for him to walk than wait.

he reached his apartment out of breath and cold, and he couldn’t wait to collapse into bed. he still got to see you, and hopefully your smile would be enough to rid himself of any residual annoyance he held towards you.

he dropped his guitar case on the floor in the living room, calling out your name. “lovely? you still here?”

he heard a crash from the kitchen and took his coat off, slinging it over the arm of the couch. “hang on!”

he had a headache, and he massaged his temple as he made his way into the kitchen. you brightened the second he arrived, all but running into his arms. “hi, darling,” he needed alone time. he loved you, of course he loved. you were one of the most important people in his entire life, he absolutely adored you. but right now, he craved being by himself. you were here though, so he wasn’t going to make that your problem.

“hi, wil! sorry about the mess!” you smiled up at him. “i thought i’d make food? are you hungry?”

he shook his head. “no, you’re alright. want any help?” this time it was you who shook your head, and he kissed your temple before going to sit down on the couch, closing his eyes. you’d eat, and then you guys would be able to go to bed, and when he woke up in the morning you would be there, and he’d get to take you out for breakfast and spend the entire day with you. he just needed rest.

there was something you needed, and it was on the top shelf. you didn’t want to bother wilbur, he’d just got home, you could do it yourself. wilbur was much taller than you, so to get to his top shelf you would have to climb up on the counter. you’d be alright, you didn’t need to stand up or anything, just kneeling on the bench would be fine. you got up there with ease, but wilbur came through the doorway right as you started reaching. “what are you doing?” he’d been too loud, he knew that instantly, you jumped, and he had to rush forward and stop you from falling off the counter. “what on earth are you on the counter for?”

“i was trying to reach the bowl,” you said quietly. he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“why didn’t you come get me?”

he helped you down. “i’m sorry, wil. didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. he felt a flash of annoyance, and then kicked himself for it. you were never a bother, not even when he was exhausted.

“you should have asked for help.” he said simply. “do you need anything else?”

you smiled up at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it. “do you wanna watch a movie? i’ve been hearing good things about this one new one, here let me-”

“stop,” he breathed out. “i’m exhausted, and i just want to be alone, and you’re here, in my kitchen crashing around and almost hurting yourself! i can’t do this right now?”

your smile ebbed, and you took a step back. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“because i didn’t want to upset you,” he sighed out, running a hand through his hair. “i just can’t do this tonight,”

“you invited me-”

“you invited yourself!” he wasn’t yelling, no, he had enough patience to not be yelling at you, but his voice was raised. “i didn’t invite you over to my house into my kitchen, to wear my sweaters.”

you’d been together for half a decade. neither of you needed an invitation, you both knew that. wilbur had given you a key because he wanted you to let yourself in whenever you needed. he’d spent entire days in your flat without you there while you were away. this had never been an issue before, and he made sure you knew that.

you stood still for a moment before reaching down and pulling off the jumper of his he’d been looking for, leaving you in a black long sleeved shirt underneath. you tossed it to him. “because you never thought to call me and let me know you’d be late. by over an hour.” you were quiet, quieter than you usually were. your voice was loud, and bright and he revelled in it, soaking up every little comment you made, every “i love you,” every giggle, he adored it.

“because not everything i do has to do with you,” he was verging on cruel, and he knew it. “i had a long day at work, and i just want to be alone, but you’re here. so i have to cater to you.”

you didn’t reply, just brushing past him, with a soft “sorry” as your arm brushed his. you grabbed your stuff and left in silence, deciding on walking home.

he rested his forehead against the closest surface - the fridge - and swore under his breath. he was still holding your jumper, and he brought it up to his face, burying his nose in it. it smelled like lavender.

he fished his phone out to call you as he retook his place on the couch, cheek still pressing into the jumper. it was soft. he loved it. he loved you. he was such an asshole.

he called. you ignored him. he called again, three times. four times over the half an hour until he knew you were home and he knew you were ignoring him. his headache had increased, and all he wanted was for you to be resting in his lap, drinking you in while you watched your movie. he opened his phone again, not to call you this time, but instead to order an uber for your place. god, they were probably making so much money off him tonight but if he had to walk the entire way to your house, he’d collapse of exhaustion. he was there within fifteen minutes, thankfully this driver not getting him lost, and he payed with one hand as he bounded up the stairs with the other. he brought out his keys on autopilot and then remembered what he’d said, putting them down to knock on your door instead.

“darling!” this time he was yelling. he didn’t care though, he needed you to hear him. it took three more times knocking and five more yelled pet names before you opened the door. your eyes were red, and you had changed into softer clothes, these ones all belonging to you. “i’m so sorry,” the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “i’m sorry i got angry, i’ve been so tired recently and that’s not your fault nor your problem, but i took it out on you and you don’t deserve that, lovely.”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. he took a step closer to you hesitantly, and when you didn’t step back he wrapped his arms around you.

“you’re never a bother,” he said, voice pouring with affection to make up for his thoughts betraying him earlier. “i love you more than anything. i’m sorry i didn’t show you that tonight,”

“i’m sorry for going in without you telling me,” you said.

he shook his head vehemently. “i gave you a key, lovely. i gave you a key because any space with you is better than one without.” he took your face in his hands and made you look at him as he spoke, trying to get you to absorb every word he was saying. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and i can’t do that if you can’t get into my house.”

you looked like you were about to start crying again, and he kissed you gently. “i’m sorry,”

“don’t be sorry,” he assured you. “just let me in? i want to watch a movie with you.” your smile came back, if only slightly, and he knew he was making progress. you brightened up every room you were in, and even if you were a little loud, and too bubbly, and you stole his sweaters, he wouldn’t want you to be any different. he kissed you again, slowly and gently and when he pulled back your eyes were sparkling. “lovely?” you hummed to show you were listening. “when we get a place together, promise you won’t climb on the counters?”

“i don’t know if i can commit to that,” you said, laughing softly. “but i’ll see what i can do.”

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