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1kook · 4 years ago

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youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years ago

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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part 11)

A/N- Okay so this is just a short 2k fill in chapter! It’s kinda cute and kinda sad but it was too long to add to the last chapter, and it doesn’t fit in with the theme of the next chapter (though it sets it up quite nicely!). The next chapter is likely going to be a bit angsty but I promise it’ll have a rewarding ending to it! I hope to have it written and up sooner rather than later but, until then, enjoy this little piece.

Word Count- 2028

The ten minute drive from Baker Street to the Natural History Museum went by in a flash- most of it being spent by Mycroft giving you a mental tour of the building's various rooms and the 'most appropriate route to take'. Though it did also take a minute or two for you to convince him to not get everybody kicked out for a private visit, no matter how many people were there.. Admittedly, you hadn't been to the museum for 6 years or so now- after living so long in London it feels less of a luxury being only round the corner from it- but walking through the doors made you feel like a child again. Entry to the museum was free, but that didn't mean you didn't see Mycroft swiftly pushing a few notes into the donation bin at the front before guiding you forwards. Glancing up, you eyed the blue whale skeleton that hung from the ceiling and frowned. Mycroft caught your look and spoke up.

"Ah yes, Hope has been a relatively recent addition to the museum. She was found dead on an Irish beach back in 1891. It's a rather beautiful marvel to gaze upon, though, large as she is, she doesn't quite fill the hole in my heart that was left after my beloved Dippy was removed." Your eyes scanned the skeleton of the large mammal once more before looking back at Mycroft. "I did try to convince the board to keep the diplodocus somewhere but all attempts were futile. There's only so much force you can put into such a topic without exposing yourself as-"

"As a man who loves dinosaur bones more than he loves people?" Mycroft shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"The very thing." Lifting your arm, you rested your hand at the crook of Mycroft's elbow to encourage him to move on.

"When we get home and have dinner we can raise a toast in Dippy's honour.. but for now, my mind's been taken over by that huge statue of Darwin." And the pair of you headed off, your hand very much staying place at Mycroft's arm as you wandered through the rooms- Mycroft more than willing to reel off facts about every deceased animal of history and, more often than not, even impressing the workers with his spiel of facts. Though you were very much enjoying wandering aimlessly through the room of human evolution, you most definitely noticed the pull from the man beside you as he was eager to reach his beloved dino-pals. As you turned the corner into the slightly darkened dinosaur room, you tripped over your feet slightly as you felt Mycroft stop in his tracks, his eyes wide and taking everything in. He looked as happy as a boy at Christmas and, quite frankly, it was adorable. You nudged him slightly when he still didn't move. "You okay?"

"Sorry, it just seems as though, no matter how many times I come here, it always feels like the first." He had shaken his head as though to bring his thoughts back to focus before taking a few steps into the gallery and leading you over to the skeletal remains of a Baryonyx. "The name Baryonyx roughly translates to 'Heavy Claw' from the Ancient Greek's 'Barys' meaning heavy and 'onyx' being claw or talon." He spoke, his voice smooth and relaxed as his fingers brushed over the board that announced the name of the creature within the glass. "It was also an excellent swimmer which it would use to its advantage while hunting." You listened to his every word as he spoke, grinning as he excitedly told you how many teeth it had and it's preferred techniques for capturing food before he moved you onto the next one.

"Oh these beauties have always been my favourite." You almost whispered, taking in the sight of the huge triceratops skull. You barely noticed Mycroft's hand shift from his pocket until you felt the heat of his palm against the small of your back, fingers squeezing slightly by your hip as he spoke.

"Mine too. Sherlock used to say they were boring and that we might as well have gone to the zoo to look at rhinos. He ended up spending 5 months trying to prove that the rhinos were descendants from the triceratops and then avoided me for 3 weeks when he realised there was no connection at all."

"That sounds about right. Though I can't imagine Sherlock enjoying it here very much anyway.." Mycroft began to guide you to a small bench just off the side to sit down, still giving you the view of the beautiful dinosaur bones.

"He didn't. When we were much younger he would kick off until Mummy and Father would tell us it's time to go and I had to go with them.. Then as we got a little older and Sherlock properly found his legs, he would simply run from the doors round to the science museum. Of course mummy and father had to follow him as he was so young, but one time I decided to stay here. They didn't realise I hadn't followed them until it was time to go home 5 hours later." Mycroft spoke quietly.

"Found his legs? That's at, what, four? Five? How young were you?"

"I was 9 the first time, I think." Now, Mycroft, you don't just 'think'; you know. Your hand moved to rest above his own on his knee, brushing your thumb fondly over his knuckles. "But it isn't all bad. Some of my best days as a child were spent here, and a lot of the staff were very kind and would teach me extra facts that weren't displayed. There was one gentleman who even gave me his own copies of some books that they had here. I'd wander the whole museum in time but I always found myself back here on this bench just.. watching. This room felt more like home than my very house sometimes. It was the room where I could escape the real world and find peace. Eventually Mummy, Father and Sherlock stopped bothering with the visits because Sherlock found the science museum boring after he'd prove them wrong on something each time, but I'd still pop back in on occasion without them.. Coming to think about it, I've never actually brought anybody here with me at all." You squeezed at his fingers and settled back into the bench.

"Well I am incredibly glad that I found out about your little interest, and I feel even more honoured that you let me come here with you." You beamed. And it was the truth. Evidently, this little museum meant much more to Mycroft than you could have ever imagined and it warmed your heart to know that he trusted you to see him nerd out over some bones.

"Eventually I used this very building as the scaffolding to build my mind palace. My files on Sherlock, very appropriately, are nestled in the human biology room. But most people's information is either stored in the entrance, where Dippy remains over Hope, might I add, or in a few of the rooms I find less interesting.." You didn't have to ask to know he was referencing 'that room with all the bloody rocks'. "I love most of the galleries too much to taint them with information on people that aren't important. The likes of Gregory and Doctor Watson now reside in Hintze Hall as the years have passed." His eyes remained focused in front of him, unblinking, as though he was wandering the very halls at that moment.

"And where.. where are my files?" You had to ask, really. Since he was on the subject anyway. "If you've put them in the marine reptiles room when you know I'm terrified of the ocean I shall never forgive you." Mycroft's hand flipped beneath yours so the pads of your fingers brushed before he blinked and looked over to you, a small smile on his face.

"Here." Oh. Well that's.. something. You shifted to give him a quick kiss on his cheek, knowing he wasn't overly fond of PDA and tugged him to stand.

"And on that note, I think we should go and grab some lunch before you make me cry in front of the dinosaurs."

---

After lunch, you both spent a few more hours walking from room to room (and of course circling round to the dinosaur gallery again) before you decided to call it a day at 4pm. Before departing, you headed towards the toilets that happened to be beside the little gift shop and you had a browse while Mycroft was occupied. Grinning, you picked up a deep blue plush triceratops and stroked a finger across its back. It was just small enough that, after purchasing, you could hide the little guy in the loose fabric of the sweatshirt you wore, acting innocent as you waited back outside near the wall. After going to the bathroom yourself, the pair of you headed outside where a car was waiting for you. Sliding in the back seat, you couldn't contain your little gift anymore.

"Surprise!" You laughed, producing the small toy from under your clothes and into the hands of the man beside you. He studied it briefly before beginning to laugh himself as he reached into his inner pocket and handed you the matching dinosaur, though purple in colour. "God, we're such children aren't we?" You noted as you swapped plushie companions, each of you brushing a finger on its nose as though it were a small pet. "I daren't think what your colleagues would say if they knew you were now the proud owner of a baby triceratops teddy that's.." You glanced at the tag. "..Suitable for children aged 12 months plus!"

"Probably nothing as bad as if they realised said triceratops was going to take proud placement on my desk at home." He beamed. "Thank you, this really does mean a great deal to me." You knew he wasn't just talking about the toy that rolled around his long fingers and you shifted to rest your head lightly on his shoulder.

"We can come back any time. I, for one, know I'll never get bored of looking through the galleries.. Or I'll never get bored of watching you light up as we walk through said galleries. Either or works, really." He hummed in response, his emotions slightly overwhelmed from the day and its revelations into his past. "Plus there were about 10 other little dinos in the shop and I've always been one to want a full collection.. so, if we pace ourselves, that's at least 10 more trips."

"13.. Although that could be tripled if we take the colour variations into account."

"Oh, of course! Can't half-arse a collection or it's just pointless."

"I concur."

"That's settled then. Almost 40 more trips to finish off our collection.. And thennnn we can move onto the figurines." Mycroft let out a laugh beside you and tilted to rest his head atop yours for the remainder of the journey home.

---

The evening between you was shared over a meal (where, as promised, a small toast was made to the memory of Sir Dippy) before Mycroft sat to finish the papers for Greg. Eventually you collapsed into bed at a relatively reasonable time, groaning at the throbbing in your legs from the day's adventure before finally slipping into rest.

---

The next day passed relatively quickly. The morning was spent visiting Greg in his office to drop off the papers before the pair of you took a small stroll through the streets of London. Eventually, Mycroft and yourself even got a text message from Sherlock giving a (albeit half-arsed) apology for his behaviour the day before and the rest of the day was spent in bliss. That was until exactly 17 minutes after you got back home when Mycroft's mobile began to ring. He swallowed deeply, showing you the caller ID of the person he had been dreading to speak to post-Eurus and answering.

"Ah, yes.. Hello, Mummy."

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cotandcandybaby · 16 days ago

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nauticonfashionstore9 · 10 months ago

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krappykawa · 4 years ago

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ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.2)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more.

warnings. language

word count. 3.6k

oikawa x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

It’s just really bad timing for Oikawa that the day after is the day in which the Aoba Johsai third-years planned their monthly hangout.

He’s rocking back and forth in front of your house, trying not to let the weird feeling in his stomach eat at him. He hasn’t seen you since you both walked home the day before when he was secretly cursing the sun because “did you always look like you were heaven-sent or was it just the lighting?”

In his head, he’s trying to convince himself that he didn’t avoid you this morning - that the reason he didn’t spend the day over at your house before your hangout like he’d always done was because he would see you later anyways. He tries to say that it's because he just needed some time to recharge, which isn’t necessarily false, but it’s a half-truth all the same.

“Hey.” His head turns to where you’re standing in your doorway, already smiling up at him. “Where’s that outfit from? Iwaizumi’s closet?”

Oikawa looks down at himself. He’s wearing one of the hoodies he did indeed steal from Iwaizumi a few months ago, and he had also opted for a pair of grey sweats that he haphazardly picked out without notice. He did have to admit that it was a very Iwaizumi-style outfit. “Only the sweatshirt, Y/N-chan. Don’t tease,” he says with his usual chipper voice.

You shake your head at him, and the small movement draws his gaze to the small alien earrings that dangle from your ears. He wants to ask if you could help him find a plush-sized version of that alien to add to his own plushie collection (that only you and Iwaizumi know about), but by the time he’s opened his mouth, you’re already turning to lock your door.

You hand him a piece of candy that you had in your pocket and you both begin to walk in a slightly off silence to Iwaizumi’s house. There isn’t necessarily anything uncomfortable about it, but Oikawa’s blinking to himself because you don’t seem to be fazed in the slightest about the happenings of yesterday. Best friends must kiss their best friends all the time don’t they? That’s why you don’t seem to care. He doesn’t care. No, he doesn’t.

Oikawa practically breathes a sigh of relief when Iwaizumi joins you two. He knows that if you were alone for even a moment longer, you would’ve picked up on his odd mood and asked him what was wrong. He wouldn’t have an answer to that. Not that there was anything wrong. There wasn’t.

Once Iwaizumi joins you two, Oikawa doesn’t have much time to be within his own thoughts because he and Iwaizumi quickly engage in a friendly teasing argument about the day before. You simply walk between them, piping up at times to tease Oikawa for some reason or another. It feels entirely too normal, and Oikawa isn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

“My legs are killing me,” you say after walking for about two miles, mostly due to the fact that Oikawa and Iwaizumi were having another back-and-forth that was slowly getting out of hand. “Did Matsukawa and Hanamaki really have to choose a place so far away? Actually, scratch that. Did you two really have to make us walk?”

“Suck it up, my darling Y/N-chan, we’ve only got a few more blocks to go,” Oikawa says. He notices a soft redness on your cheeks.

“You’re one to talk,” you mumble. “You were complaining just ten minutes ago,”

“I’m allowed to be whiny.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“But Y/N-channn.” He makes sure to really draw out the latter half chan, his grin widening when he sees a slight pout form at your lips.

“Don’t Y/N-chan me when you’re being a baby.”

“You can’t call me a baby! I’m practically a tree next to you!”

You cross your arms, and look defiantly up at him. “I’ll call you a baby if I want to.”

“I’m gonna throw you over my shoulder if you don’t take that back.”

“God you two are insufferable,” Iwaizumi mumbles from besides you two, but the small smile on his face betrays his attempt at strictness. You playfully roll your eyes at him and Oikawa is unfazed, much too used to Iwaizumi’s gruff exterior by now. “I’ll just carry her if it makes you two shut the hell up.”

At the same time that you shout “Really?”, Oikawa shouts “No!”

Both you and Iwaizumi turn to stare at Oikawa, who seems to lose his composure just ever so slightly.

“Shittykawa, for the last time. I’m not going to carry you.”

“That’s not what I meant, Iwa-chan.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’ll carry Y/N-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s gaze focuses just a beat too long on Oikawa, and it’s all Oikawa needs to see to know that Iwaizumi will probably be watching him a little extra tonight. He always does that when he feels like there’s something off.

Whatever he must’ve seen on Oikawa’s face was either satisfactory or something that puzzled him because he repents instead of interrogating him. “Fine. Carry her if it’ll heal your ego or whatever. Just don’t do shit to your knee or I’ll actually murder you.”

“Guys, it’s fine. I was only joking.” You pipe up, clearly confused at the interaction between Oikawa and Iwaizumi just now. Oikawa can feel something else in your gaze too, but he’s afraid he won’t be able to look away if he attempts to analyze what it means.

Something in Oikawa deflates a little at your words though. You seemed all but ready to let yourself be carried by Iwaizumi, but the moment he suggested doing the exact same thing, you shied away. “Well the offer still stands,” he says, despite the minor sting of rejection. “Besides it’ll make up for the practice I was forced to miss yesterday.”

“Really, it’s fine. I don’t want you to hurt your knee,” you reply. This time, he can practically hear the odd something in your voice. The fact that he can’t pinpoint what it is irritates him to no end.

The rest of the walk to the karaoke place goes relatively quiet. Quiet in the sense that Iwaizumi and Oikawa don’t squabble, but rather all three of you have small minor conversations about anything and everything.

Oikawa’s mood turns mildly sour when you tell him and Iwaizumi that by some unfortunate luck, you’d crossed paths with your ex-boyfriend while on a walk that morning. He wishes that he would’ve just sucked up his thoughts and just spent the day at your house so that maybe by some weird string of fate, you wouldn’t have seen the tall, brown-haired baseball captain while on a walk. Oikawa didn’t realize he was scowling until you poked a finger at his cheek and told him that he “had to stop thinking about Kageyama and Ushijima because they would only cause premature wrinkles and ruin his pretty face.” He doesn’t tell you that his two most bitter rivals were far, far away from the forefront of his mind at the moment.

“Took you three long enough,” Hanamaki practically yells when he spots you three from across the street.

You beam and yell, “Don’t yell, Maki. It’s unbecoming!”

“And you call me a hypocrite, Y/N-chan?” Oikawa nudges your side, smiling down at you.

The feeling he gets when you stick your tongue out at him and dash across the street is familiar, which he’s thankful for. It’s the sort of feeling that makes him smile softly at your retreating figure, a feeling that he’s felt toward you for as long as he can remember. He’s happy for the familiarity of it because it gives him a sense of normalcy that perhaps the thoughts he’s been feeling are familiar thoughts that were probably just jumbled up because of his fatigue.

That’s what he keeps telling himself anyway.

Oikawa’s about to run after you when Iwaizumi asks a question from beside him. “Did something happen between you two?”

Oikawa turns to look at his best friend then back to where you’re standing with Hanamaki and Matsukawa. We kissed, he thinks. But Oikawa knows that telling Iwaizumi that might be more trouble than he’s looking for right now because he’ll surely start asking questions that Oikawa can’t even begin to find an answer for.

“No,” he tries to say in his most convincing voice. “Why?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Y/N just seems sadder today.” His words almost make Oikawa stop midway on the street. He knows that Iwaizumi notices, but instead of calling him out on it, Iwaizumi says, “Probably just because she saw Kaoru-san this morning.”

That’s when Oikawa realizes that the odd tone he heard in your voice earlier was sadness. He isn’t sure why exactly that was and why it was directed towards him. He can’t remember you saying anything out of the ordinary. All your texts to him that morning were of nothing new, and nothing seemed wrong the day before (except for the way that you were equally as quiet as he was during the walk home after your kiss). Surely, it wasn’t because of the stupid baseball player that barely lit a flame next to you.

He doesn’t know what he hates more - the possibility that it was him himself that was the cause of your sadness, or the possibility that you were sad after seeing your ex-boyfriend, which could possibly mean that you might still harbor feelings for him (which, Oikawa decides is something he never wants to think about again because he’s always disliked Kaoru, so he really can’t see why you’d still have feelings for him). Surely, you weren’t still hung up on a boy that you had broken up with?

That’s what break-ups are for. They’re for when you no longer have love for the other person, or with Oikawa’s history of dating, when you find that the other person’s demanding schedule is something that becomes a wedge.

It’s odd, but for the first time in their long friendship, Oikawa wants to punch Iwaizumi for making him think so indepthly about it. Instead, he walks quicker. He makes sure that his signature chipper smile is on his lips when he greets Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

“What do you two have lined up for us today then?”

“We’re hoping that you’ll embarrass yourself with some karaoke, and then we figured we’d look through some of the shops around here. That may or not be because my mother’s birthday is in two days and I have yet to get a present.”

You shake your head at the taller male. “Makki!”

“Don’t Makki me! It’s Mattsun’s fault anyway. Don’t ask me why. It’s just always Mattsun’s fault.”

Matsukawa looks anything but pleased. “One more word out of you and I’m leaving your ass here and you’ll have to ride home by yourself.”

The only response Hanamaki has is a scowl in Matsukawa’s direction.

By the time you five are seated in a booth, Oikawa feels the most normal he’s felt all day. Hanamaki managed to offend an older lady walking down the street by saying something loudly obnoxious, Iwaizumi yelled at Hanamaki for being so stupid, Matsukawa almost choked on a mint he had taken fron the front desk, and you had accidentally almost broken a vase because you pushed Oikawa a little too roughly. Oikawa would say that all that was pretty normal.

It’s also normal for Hanamaki to suggest that you and Oikawa sing a duet because despite it all, you two have incredible voices. He used to try and convince Iwaizumi too, but when almost all his pleas were met with rejections, he’d eventually stopped asking.

But Oikawa doesn’t feel any sort of normalcy when he smiles to himself as you shake your head and begrudgingly accept. He doesn’t feel any sense of normalcy as you take his hand and tug him upwards to the karaoke machine. Instead of the normal carefree environment he usually feels, he’s feeling something brew inside of him because everything he’d just described as feeling abnormal, used to be perfectly normal.

It irritates him to no end because his feelings don’t feel any different, but at the same time his feelings feel so incredibly foreign that he wishes he could just pause time and just sit down to figure out whatever the hell is going on.

But he doesn’t have the ability to pause time, and he doesn’t have any time to figure out anything before you start to sing and he feels his breath catch the way it always does.

He’s always told you that your voice was angelic. He’s been saying it ever since he came over to play at your house when he was 10 years old and he overheard you singing as you doodled on a piece of paper. He’s told you all of this before - how beautiful your voice is, how you’re wasting your talent by not letting others see it. He even remembers begging you to sing him to sleep when he would sleep over at your house after particularly crushing losses.

What he doesn’t understand is why he’s so very aware of the fact that your voice sounds like it descends from above. Before, the feeling was there like a natural instinct to hearing your singing voice. But now, he’s so very aware.

It’s because of this thought process that he almost misses his cue to enter. Luckily, he feels a foot kick at his ankle just before he embarasses himself. Oikawa has a gut feeling that it was Iwaizumi who did so.

Once he starts singing the lyrics, Oikawa has the thought to just murder Hanamaki on the spot because of all the duets he could’ve chosen, he had to choose a love song.

He keeps his eyes glued to the words flashing on the screen despite having memorized every lyric of this song after singing it multiple times while taking a shower. He tries to ignore your voice and instead focus on the teasing remarks slipping from his teammates’ lips. For a second, he’s successful in doing so.

But luck doesn’t seem to be on his side tonight. Eventually, you hit a very impressive high note and Oikawa thinks he might just lose his mind because he hears you laugh afterwards and say a breathy “sorry,” that’s so mesmerizing that he turns his head. You’re already smiling up at him in that way that you always smile at him and he can’t help but feel his own lips tug widely upwards. He thinks he imagines how your own smile widens after that.

After you two finish your duet and Hanamaki is up and belting out all the wrong notes, you nudge Oikawa. “A little off considering how good I can hear you singing it in the shower.”

“Keep your voice down, Y/N-chan. One word out of you and I won’t speak to you for a week,” Oikawa says with the familiar grin on his face.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you dramatically gasp, which momentarily catches Iwaizumi’s attention. He turns away once he realizes that you were looking at Oikawa and nothing of importance.

“Oh, but I would.”

“You wouldn’t last a day.”

“Yes I would.”

“You used to cry whenever Iwaizumi or I went on vacation. You’d come whining to me before the day is even over.”

He’s about to retort a reply, but Hanamaki’s return to the table catches both of your attention. “Man, my voice sounds like sandpaper.”

“More like a dying baby bird but I’ll let you think what you want,” Matsukawa snorts from his seat.

“Mattsun, what did the baby bird ever do to you?”

After a few more rounds of karaoke (in which Matsukawa and Hanamaki serenaded the other and Iwaizumi agreed to sing for the first time in months) you all find yourself at the head of a row of shops that go down a few miles.

“Do you think my mom would like a necklace? Maybe I’ll buy her a book.”

“Hanamaki, you are aware that we aren’t acquainted with your mother right?”

“Matsukawa is! Mattsun, help me out here.”

“Makki, she’s your mom man.”

After a few more rounds of bickering, Hanamaki and Matsukawa finally decide to just head into the bookstore. You, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa decide to visit the small trinkets store with the twinkling light up sign.

Oikawa gets the urge to rip his hair out once he sees who the person behind the cashier is.

“Kaoru! I didn’t know you worked here,” you say entirely too nicely. Oikawa hates how perfect you look at the moment because he’s almost certain that your ex-boyfriend notices it too.

“Ease up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi says from beside him.

“I am at ease,” he says, but he can’t even convince himself.

Iwaizumi snorts and shakes his head. “Sure you are. Unclench your jaw and stop looking at him like you want to stuff him in a bag first, then I’ll believe you.”

Oikawa turns his head to look back to where you’re leaning against the counter. He doesn't miss the way that Kaoru purposefully left his hand idly on the counter so that his fingers come just short of touching your arm. Oikawa feels his annoyance spike when he hears the man in question laugh at something you say.

After glaring what felt like forever, Oikawa turns back to Iwaizumi, letting out an annoyed huff. “I just don’t understand why he of all people had to be the one working here.”

“The world doesn’t cater to whether or not the person working at a store is going to make you jealous,” Iwaizumi says as he shuffles through a rack of plain-looking hoodies.

“I’m not jealous!”

Iwaizumi turns to Oikawa and deadpans at him, raising a brow as a challenge.

Oikawa looks away from his gaze and crosses his arms. “I’m not,” he grumbles. “I just don’t particularly like his face or his voice or his stupid personality or really anything about him because really what’s there to like? It’s nothing new.”

Oikawa expects a retort or an insult, but to his surprise, Iwaizumi lets out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

Iwaizumi continues to shake his head as he moves to walk down another aisle. Oikawa follows aimlessly behind him. “You’re so, so stupid. I cannot believe you’re one of the best volleyball players I know. There’s no way you’re the same person I play with on the court.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.”

Before Oikawa can question him any further, he hears your voice from somewhere across the shop. You pop your head out from behind a shelf and say, “Hey ‘Kawa! Come here for a second.”

Oikawa looks to Iwaizumi.

“Go ahead. I’m gonna look through their collection of posters and see if I can find one for the monster movie I watched yesterday.”

When Oikawa gets to the shelf that you’re staring intently at, he’s mildly surprised. You’re crouched down and scrutinizing a row of alien plushies. More specifically, they’re the very same alien plushies that he had hoped to ask you about when he first picked you up from your house.

You grin up at him excitedly and Oikawa wishes he could take a picture. “Look what I found!” Oikawa walks closer and crouches down besides you. You turn to look at him again. “I noticed that you were staring at my earrings a lot tonight, and I know that you absolutely cherish your little alien collection, so I asked Kaoru if they had them as plushies and they did!”

Oikawa feels a warmness bloom in his chest at your excitement. He doesn’t tell you that he wasn’t staring at your earrings. He doesn’t tell you that he was always staring at you.

“You did that for me?”

“Of course I did. We always do things like this, don’t get all sappy now.”

He has the sudden thought to just pull you upwards and crash his lips into yours. He knows that he can’t necessarily do so, so he just stares at you instead and contemplates to himself if it really would be so bad if he just kissed you again right then and there.

“Is everything okay? Do you not like it? We don’t have to get it if you don’t like it.” The smile falls off your lips, and he can hear that familiar sadness in your voice once again. It sends a spark of pain through him.

“No!” He yells a little too loudly. “No, of course I love it. Thank you.” He reaches out and clasps his hand over your smaller one.

You roll your eyes at him, but don’t make any move to push his hand away. “You’re blushing! Don’t blush! You might make me think that you’re in love with me, and we can’t have that can we?”

Oikawa tries to shake his head. He doesn’t point out that there’s a little dusting of red on your own cheeks.

He only speaks again after you pick an alien off of the shelf and stand up. He stands with you. “I only very mildly like you more than like. None of that in love stuff, don’t worry.”

You elbow him and shoot him a glance. “Don’t steal my lines, Oikawa.”

You smile as you say it. A simple smile. A smile that has practically been ingrained into his head after so many years of seeing that same smile thrown in his direction. But what scares him is the way that it sends a pleasant feeling to his stomach.

It’s then that Oikawa realizes that there is indeed something that’s wrong - that there’s something very, very wrong. Something is very wrong because everything he’s feeling at the moment makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he’s the biggest liar in the world for claiming that he wasn’t in love with you.

i know that some people won’t be able to relate to the “angelic singing” part (i most definitely don’t have an angelic singing voice either lol don’t worry) but lets all just pretend that we can all sing ok thanku

#oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #oikawa fluff #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader

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customknitfactory · 9 months ago

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bubblecg · 1 year ago

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Baby Boy 3-6mos Bundle.

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simp-for-mha-men · 4 years ago

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𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕓𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 (𝕜𝕒𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚 𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠𝕦 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

Request by @number1bakuhoe: can i request one for bakugou? n do yk that tiktok trend where in u kiss ur best friend but instead can it be thats how they reveal their relationship to the rest of the class?? ty💗💗

A/N: This is my dream. I had this thought and disregarded it, but this icon brought it back to my attention! I hope you all enjoy this Bakugou chaos with our favorite U.A. class. My requests are still open, and now my asks are actually working correctly (I didn’t know they weren’t). Enjoy this cuteness!

Genre: established relationship fluff and competition, Tik Tok trends, a little bit of swearing, one weird question from Kaminari, a couple references to different books 💥❤️

Word count: 3.1k

♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥

School was never boring at U.A. Whether you were listening to Present Mic drone on in English class or waiting for Mr. Aizawa to stop staring at you during training, it was always a good time. Your classmates also made sure of this, especially one in particular.

You had come to date the most ornery and obnoxious guy in 1-A, Katsuki Bakugou. His temper annoyed your classmates to no end. He never shared his trauma with anyone. It was as if “problem child” was his middle name. However, you had fallen for the spiky blonde-headed boy nonetheless.

How your relationship started was straight out of a movie, and the fact you both had been together now for 6 months made it all the more romantic. He called you one night by accident. He needed Kirishima to come to his dorm room, since he was late for a study group. When you picked up, he was annoyed at first but settled down after you told him you would help your friends. Being ranked number 5 in the class meant something, so he begrudgingly agreed.

“I’ll come,” you said, expecting rejection.

“Ugh,” he groaned.

Of course. Why would Bakugou want you to come help? He was so egocentric that he didn’t want you trying to show him up. They were your friends too, though! If they failed this test, it would make you upset. Sadly, that’s the downfall of being an empathetic person.

“Fine, just hurry your ass over here,” Bakugou ordered, hanging up immediately after.

You were stunned. If he didn’t tell you to hurry over, you might’ve freshened up just a bit. He wasn’t waiting for you, though, and if you were late, he would come to probably demote you from the rank of “extra,” if that was even possible.

The study sessions became a routine thing. Soon enough, each person kept leaving the group until it was only you and Bakugou left. It made you uncomfortable. It made him colder. Both of you were so awkward about it, which definitely didn’t help your situation. One night, you decided you were done playing this strange little game and did something about. The outcome was quite different than you had intended it.

“You know what,” you began, pushing away your binder, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Huh?” Bakugou questioned, glaring at you.

“You and I both know that this hasn’t been productive. For crying out loud, it’s just filled with tension!”

He huffed in annoyance, clearly done with your shenanigans. This man was going to be the death of you. Why was he so annoyed with you trying to leave? He usually liked to do things alone. If anything, this study group, if you could still call it that, was only a burden to him.

“It’s not you, Bakugou,” you said. “If anything, I feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome. I only feel uncomfortable, and I can tell that you don’t like the vibe we’ve created.”

The man in front of you fell silent. His gaze still pierced through your soul and spoke louder than words. You could tell he didn’t want you to go, but he didn’t know how to articulate it. Despite this, you knew you couldn’t stay. Being in the same room as him wasn’t healthy. Your heart rate always picked up speed. Plus, being so hot caused you to wear a t-shirt with the AC as cold as possible. Maybe you were coming down with something?

You began gathering your supplies as quickly as possible. You were studying a classic literary work: Romeo and Juliet. Was it cheesy? Absolutely. Did you love it? Without a doubt. However, Bakugou was beginning to be as intense as Montague or Capulet.

“Thank you for these past few weeks,” you blurted. “It’s been really fun, but I don’t want to stay anym--”

Suddenly, your forearm was yanked by your study partner. You landed atop his lap, causing your heart to almost burst out of your chest. Your face felt very hot, and your breath was trapped in your lungs. Bakugou’s hands fell on your waist and slowly rubbed circles into them. He let his gaze change between your lips and eyes.

You didn’t know how to react. Was he just teasing you? Then, he began to lean in slowly. Realizing what he was doing, you moved in and let his lips touch yours. It was your first kiss, but you didn’t feel bad about it. Bakugou was soft and took his time, which is not what you were expecting with his personality. In that moment, you realized why you always felt hot around him. Your pulse quickened because you liked him. You just never wanted to admit it to yourself.

After a few seconds, Bakugou pulled away. Staring into your (e/c) eyes, he took a deep breaths and kissed you again. This time, his heartbeat spoke to you. It matched in rhythm with yours and told you its deepest desires. Bakugou wanted you to be his. He initiated this kiss as a last resort to get you to stay. He needed you to stay with him, not to study but just to hold and kiss.

After that fateful evening, Bakugou had become your boyfriend unofficially. Both of you knew your relationship should be kept a secret. It wasn’t like you had a choice. Bakugou was supposed to be the number 1 hero, and you were just an “extra.” Plus, the Bakusquad and certain 1-A students would be a pain to deal with if they found out he was soft for someone.

Despite keeping your relationship hidden, you both made sure to make it a competition. Bakugou would always ruffle your hair when others weren’t looking, which would tempt you to plant a kiss on his cheek before you both went your separate ways during lunch. The nights in the dorms were domestically sweet rather than competitive like during school hours. Your loving boyfriend would always make two plates of food and slyly pass one to you. You would always make two cups of tea, making sure to hide one behind your back, and bring them to his room. When you did do this, you slipped in while he was taking his usual shower. He always came out, gave you his sweatshirt, and watched you with love-filled eyes. The tea-filled evenings always ended in cuddles and playing with each others’ hair. You stayed until your boyfriend fell asleep at his early time, and then you would sneak off to your dorm room to get some sleep yourself.

This was your normal with Bakugou. During last Christmas, you both were able to go on an actual date for the first time. However, you saw Kirishima and Kaminari hanging out, and you and Bakugou had to abandon your outing. Sadly, your relationship has never been normal because of how secret it was. You both had to get creative with your relationship, but it was worth it. He was your explosive baby, and you were his sweet angel.

Recently, you’ve been getting quite a few relationship Tik Toks in your feed. Whether it was “the faster you run to me, the more kisses you get” trend or the “oh, you want me to make you some soup” sound, you wanted to recreate them. The Pomeranian you were dating didn’t want this. He thought Tik Tok was a complete waste of time, and you always argued with him about how it was a de-stresser for you. However, he still watched every video you showed him and loved the smile you got when watching his reaction.

One of your favorite Tik Tok trends going around was with the popular song “Electric Love” by BØRNS. Best friends admitting their feelings through a kiss was so romantic, and it reminded you of how your adorable relationship began. After seeing about 1 million of them, when in reality it was only 3, you decided you had to do it with Bakugou.

Finals were just around the corner, and everyone was stressing out. There was a rumor going around that you would all be facing the teachers again, except this time there would be bigger groups to face 3 teachers at the same time. You coculdn’t believe it and burshed it off. However, the thought still lingered in your mind that the rumor could be true. Kaminari and Kirishima reminded you of this painfully often.

One morning at the dorms before class, Momo and Iida said they were holding a study group for the class that night to prepare for the written exams. They said they didn’t care how many people showed up. They just wanted to extend the offer since they were the top students in the class. Realizing it would be beneficial, you begged your boyfriend to attend it with you. As per usual, he wanted to make your life just a little bit more difficult.

“Please, Katsu,” you begged.

“No way, dumbass,” he said, flicking your forehead. “Why go when you’ve got me?”

“I just want to hear what other people have to say. Besides, Momo is really good at algebra! She could help both of us.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes before turning to walk towards his door. You had to convince him. No matter what it would take, you had to convince him that this was the best possible option to study for the written finals.

“Wait,” you blurted, gaining his attention. “What can I do that would make you come with me?”

“Don’t even,” he huffed.

“Come on, Katsu. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything!”

Your boyfriend turned around and met your gaze. His eyes were soft, but his smirk was hard. Oh no...he had something up his sleeve. It could go one or two ways: easy or hard. You figured it was the latter.

“Kiss me,” he stated.

“That’s it?” you asked, cocking your head to the side.

“That’s it.”

Smiling, you skipped over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You leaned closer to his lips and met them sweetly. Bakugou wrapped his arms around your waist and melted into the kiss. It was filled with love and passion, causing a fire to erupt in your heart. You had never been happier in your life. He was all yours, and you couldn’t believe it. After pulling away, his smirk was even wider than it had been the first time. Something wasn’t right.

“I probably should’ve finished what I was gonna say,” he said. “You have to kiss me by surprise before class is over.”

Your eyes went wide. He was not asking you to do this. No way. You guys kept your relationship private for a good reason. He was out of his mind.

“Katsuki,” you sighed, “please tell me this is a joke.”

Laughing, he squeezed your cheeks before turning around and opening his door. “No way, dumbass. You said you’d do anything. Just try not to get caught.”

With that, he sauntered out of his room confidently. Never in your relationship had you been able to kiss him by surprise. He always knew what you were trying to do. He watched your fidgeting hands, crinkling nose, and squinting eyes all too much. It was like he could predict your every move. He watched you like a hero watches a villain.

You had to figure out a plan to catch him completely by surprise in only a few minutes. Then, you had only 7 hours to execute and achieve your goal. That sounds like a long time, but it was going to be a race against the clock. How were you going to pull this off? It’s not like some romance movie where the song for the love interests just starts out of nowhere.

Suddenly, you squeaked out loud. That’s it! You finally have the opportunity to do the “kissing your best friend” challenge. Of course, you and Bakugou were already dating, but he was still your best friend. You both told each other everything. Plus, he had never been around when you were watching those Tik Toks. You had your plan. Now, when could you execute it perfectly?

The morning started off like any other. Mr. Aizawa began going over the day’s schedule, causing the daily antics of your class to begin. Mina and Denki began dozing off, Aoyama was just staring off into space, Koda was focused on some birds outside, and Midoriya was already murmuring to himself. Despite all of this, your boyfriend was staring directly at you from across the classroom.

Once you noticed him, you stuck your tongue out at him. Clearly annoyed by your actions, he sighed and rolled his eyes at you. The dynamic was always like this between you two. However, your attack plan was finalized.

Using your skills, you deducted that the best time to initiate the plan was right before lunch. You would say you were showing him a Tik Tok, kiss his cheek like usual, and then strike. It was perfection. Nothing could go wrong.

The morning classes went by slower than ever. Present Mic kept correcting Jirou’s grammar the entire English class, Cementoss took too long to analyze Fahrenheit 451, and Ectoplasm spoke complete gibberish in math. You stayed focused throughout all of this, though, because you knew what was to come.

Finally, the bell rang for lunch. Waiting for the class to leave the room, you slowly packed up your bag. Once Tokoyami and Shoji had left the room, you walked over to your boyfriend, who purposely took just as long to pack.

“Bakugou,” you began, sweetly, “you have to see this Tik Tok I found.”

He groaned, prompting you to lean down and kiss his cheek. Being the tease he was, he quickly turned directly to face you and kissed your lips. You laced your arms around his neck, causing your plan to become even easier. Thankfully, Bakugou was too in the moment to realize the placement of your phone. You had positioned yourself so you were facing the window, allowing your phone to lean against the glass and stand in the window sill.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, (y/n),” Bakugou said, pulling away from you with a smirk.

With your arms still around his neck, you returned a sickeningly sweet smile paired with a glare. “Oh, just you wait.”

You hit the record button on your phone, causing the lyrics to begin. Apparently, this gained his attention, and he turned his head to look at your phone.

Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle / I can't let you go now that I got it

“Babe,” he groaned.

“Oh, come on,” you replied, pinching his cheek. “It’s just one Tik Tok.”

He groaned and looked at you through the screen. He was clearly waiting for you to start dancing or something because he never broke your gaze. Internally smirking to yourself, you realized you had caught him hook, line, and sinker.

And all I need is to be struck / By your electric love

Once the word “love” was sung, you turned his head towards you and kissed him the deepest you ever had. He paused for a brief second with wide eyes before chuckling and pulling you into his lap. Your lips met in a fiery passion of love, and you had never felt more alive. This was definitely the best kiss you had ever shared with him.

“Wait, you gotta be kidding me!” you heard someone say.

Both of you stopped, pulled away, and looked at the door. Standing there was Sero and Kaminari with the biggest grins on their faces. Before any words between the four of you could be exchanged, they both bolted off towards the cafeteria.

“Shit,” you sighed.

“You can say that again,” Bakugou agreed.

“If they know what’s good for them, they’ll keep their mouths shut.”

He chuckled at that and picked you up, placing a simple kiss on your forehead. After setting you down, you both went and grabbed your things before heading off to the cafeteria together. Of course, neither of you were aware of the hurricane that pounded the windows or shook the roof, but that would change very soon.

As soon as you walked in, you spotted the Dekusquad and Bakusquad all together. Once the door shut, Asui looked at you with the widest eyes possible. She turned back to the group and gained their attention, causing them all to unanimously charge the both of you.

“When did it start?” Mina asked, beaming.

“Were you always going to keep it a secret?” Uraraka questioned.

“Have you gone past kissing yet?” Kaminari smirked.

“SHUT UP BASTARDS!” Bakugou yelled, partially activating his quirk.

Stepping in front of him, you placed your hand on his cheek and whispered to him to calm down. After repeating that a couple of times, he did and began sulking to avoid confrontation. Turning around, you mustered up all of the courage you had.

“Ok,” you began, “Bakugou and I have been together for 6 months. We had planned to keep it a secret until graduation. Kaminari, I’m not answering your question.”

Kaminari groaned before turning around and walking off. After you answered the first initial questions, more came at you. You responded honestly and kept the conversation going. Bakugou was beside you the hold time, and, at some point, he took your hand in his. You leaned your head on his shoulder before sighing.

“Anything else?” you smiled.

“Yeah,” Asui replied. “When will you guys tell everyone else?”

“Oh, that’s not an issue,” Sero chimed in. “I already told the rest of the class.”

Everyone in the group fell silent. You prayed silently to whatever higher power was out there to protect Sero from major damage before saying, “Get him, baby.”

Bakugou took off after Sero, causing them both to sprint out of the cafeteria. You knew that they would probably get in trouble big time, but you were relieved. Finally, you and your boyfriend didn’t have to keep your relationship a secret. You were free to share as much PDA as you wanted, within school regulations, and were free to go on worry-free dates. It was a huge weight off your shoulders.

“D-do you think K-Kacchan will hurt him?” Midoriya asked, glancing at you.

Chuckling to yourself, you smiled and said, “I have no idea. I’m just proud to say that he’s mine. Sero will get what’s coming to him.”

It’s safe to assume that the both of you decided a night in studying together was better than having the whole class ogle you during the group study session.

#bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #bnha bakugou #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #bnha #mha imagines #mha fic #mha scenarios #mha x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugou x reader #Katsuki Bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 4 years ago

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If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 6

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

April 2015

“You ready?” Sonny called as he came into her apartment. They’d agreed to skip the pretense and drive together, and Sonny had booked a hotel room within walking distance after confirming she’d be okay with it. His bag was in the trunk, and he grinned when she came out bundled up, the same Fordham sweatshirt she’d stolen under her coat and the little wheeled bag beside her.

“Ready,” she grinned, stretching up to kiss him, and he felt like he could do anything. He took her bag despite her protest.

“I got us a room for the next two nights. We ain’t gotta stay both, but I thought it might be nice to go to dinner? I got both nights off, too.”

“That sounds real nice. I packed some real people clothes anyway.”

“Perfect. Now let’s get going. Bella said you guys got a make up artist coming.”

“Yeah. She got one and a hairdresser.”

“She’s definitely the one who wouldn’t wanna get herself ready.”

“Yeah. We gotta get there in time. What’re the groomsmen doing?”

“Playing video games and taking turns shaving and showering.”

“Not fair.”

“You look hot. You don’t need hair and make up.”

“You always think I’m hot.”

“That’s because you always are.”

“So are you. I got real lucky on the husband front.”

“You really think so?” She could sense the current under what he said. It wasn’t just Am I hot? but was also Are you lucky?

“Incredibly lucky. I got you.” He slammed the trunk shut, cheeks pink when he settled in the driver’s seat. It was familiar to drive with their fingers laced, and he smiled to see her wedding set in place. Bella had gone by the bakery to surprise her one day, and his sister was very pleased to let him know both rings were on her left ring finger. He’d told the squad the same day he told Olivia, and his ring had been on his hand every day since, the cross the only thing on the chain again.

“Think they’d notice if I do my own make up and hang out with you?”

“She really does have y’all going like two hours longer than Gina did.”

“Yeah. Gina was very ‘Let’s get down to business, get photos, and get married.’ Bella’s way more into the matching robes and face masks vibe. But she’ll be happy.”

“I’ll check in a lot, okay? I don’t like the video games Tommy does.”

“You just like Sims. It’s endearing.”

“It’s kinda fun.”

“You spent six hours building a house once.”

“I had t’make sure it was perfect. They were having twins, Tor.”

“I love you, you absolute nerd.”

“Your nerd.”

“Damn straight.” Sonny dropped her off at the venue, checking them in at the hotel and dropping off their bags. He stopped by the bridal suite when he got to the venue, thankful the weather moved the ceremony inside now that he was out of the cold.

“Dominick! No boys allowed,” Bella said, wagging her finger at him, hair in rollers.

“I know, I know. I’m just bringing Tor the key and her charger, okay?”

“You got her key?” Gina asked, leaning back to look at him and lifting her brow. “That sounds like you’re sharing a room.”

“We are,” Victoria said plainly, taking both items gladly. All the girls had changed into robes, but she’d opted to stay in his oversized sweatshirt until the inevitable photos. A primal part of him liked knowing that.

“That sounds like a reconciliation,” the younger Carisi sang, and Victoria rolled her eyes. “And you two snuck out of the party early like you used to.”

“I’m real glad you approve of our progress, but if you put too much pressure on us, we might break again.” Victoria knew he didn’t mean it and just wanted them to drop it, which she was grateful for. They weren’t quite there, but she trusted he’d probably open up by the end of their weekend together. Even if he didn’t, she’d decided she wanted to start planning to see him more after the wedding. Several late nights with Margy and a bottle of wine had told her that much. If you prove you’ll be there and patient, he’ll probably feel less like he’s scaring you off, she’d told Victoria after another night analyzing their last four encounters.

“Fine. But just know I’m telling ma. Maybe she’ll stop being mean to Tor.”

“Ignore Bella. She’s been glaring, but I think Sonny talked sense into her at Thanksgiving. She’s mad at both of them now.”

“As she should be,” he shrugged, kissing Victoria. “See ya for pictures.”

“See ya,” she grinned, ignoring his sisters’ squeals. This marathon made her kind of tired. Her hair and makeup were done soon enough, and she was grateful the dress was a dusty, dark enough pink in person to look good on her. She liked pink on Sonny, especially since the sides of his brunette hair had started going gray, against the blue of his eyes. The bridesmaids, the two Carisi sisters, Victoria, and a couple of Bella’s friends, all posed together in the matching silky robes before slipping their dresses on.

“And you thought that pink wouldn’t look good,” Sonny said softly against her ear before kissing her cheek.

“You like it?” Her hands rested on his shoulders as she smiled up at him, and he felt giddy. It was official. This was how they acted before, no almost needed.

“I do. Beautiful color on you. And damn, my wife got a figure.”

“You’re the best hypeman,” she hummed as she straightened his tie. “I ever told you how handsome you look in a suit? Or how pretty pink makes your eyes?”

“I can stand to hear it again.” There was the cocky smile he got sometimes. “I’m starting to look old, doll.”

“Nah. Getting hotter.”

“Even with the gray?” He’d been self conscious about it before, when the evenly dispersed gray in his dark hair could be mistaken for a dirty blonde. His temples gave him away now, but she loved it.

“Even hotter with the gray.”

“Stop being gross,” Teresa whined. “It’s like when you were getting ready for homecoming again.” She was rewarded with her brother and sister-in-law’s middle fingers, and Victoria was pleased with Gianna’s disapproval and the picture the photographer snapped. They took pictures, and Sonny was glad when they settled in the back of the venue. He could see the back of Olivia, Barba, Amaro, and Rollins’ heads, and the change in his dynamic with Victoria had him looking forward to showing her off at the reception.

“Shoes off at the reception. I intercept ma?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m supporting ninety percent of your weight, Tor.”

“Love you.”

“Do I need to hold ya until we walk?”

“Not enough time to make a difference. But you’re a saint for offering.”

When Olivia saw Sonny with Victoria on his arm, it made sense why he’d been calmer the last two weeks. He’d been texting her more, though he thought he was sneaky enough no one noticed how he smiled at his phone throughout the day. She seemed to smooth his edges, and she and Amanda shared a look over the way the pair watched each other across the front of the venue. The ceremony was a quick enough affair, and Bella had decided to let her bridal party sit wherever they wanted. That led to Victoria stepping out of her shoes, pleased to be spared a big entrance. Heels in hand, she followed Sonny to the table his squad was at before dropping into her seat and giving a wave.

“Means a lot to Bella and Tommy you all came,” Sonny said, taking her shoes and tucking the wall by his chair. “This is my wife, Victoria. Tor, meet Rafael Barba, Olivia Benson, Nick Amaro, and Amanda Rollins.”

“Nice to meet all of ya. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Wish we could say the same,” Rollins said, and Victoria immediately recognized what Sonny had meant. No venom. Just protective of her occasional partner. And Benson was definitely the mother hen, shooting the blonde a look as Amaro and Barba concealed smiles.

“Get it all out now,” she joked, rolling her eyes. “Married into this family nine years ago.”

“Been putting up with Carisi that long? I’ll petition the pope for sainthood.” The three piece suit. The snark. Barba was just what she expected.

“Think she deserves it,” Sonny chuckled, arm flung easily over the back of her chair. “I can be a pain in the ass.”

Conversation started to flow easily, and he was glad Victoria was tough enough to bite back at Rollins and Barba when they referenced anything touchy. Tommy’s family filled out the rest of the table, and he was glad to see the trial had brought them around to agree that what happened to Tommy was wrong. Teresa and Tommy’s brother gave the speeches, and he liked seeing the squad join in as Bella threw the bouquet and Tommy threw the garter.

“Bella caught my bouquet, remember?” Victoria smiled up at him.

“Yeah. And Freddy Esposito got the garter.”

“Both of ‘em got married this year.”

“Was delayed for us. Our friends from back then are just now getting married.”

“We’ve been married nine years and aren't even thirty. I think we were ahead of the curve.”

“But now my baby sister is married and pregnant.”

“Dom, you do know she and I are the same age?” Sonny blinked, squinting at her.

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“We’re both twenty-seven.”

“No way Bella’s twenty-seven.”

“I like how you can fully separate me and Bella graduating together.”

“I forget,” he shrugged. “You always picked me anyway.”

“Then married you. Duh. Long game.”

“I hear people making noise.”

“They’re cutting the cake. Amaro has the garter half in his shirt pocket, and a three year old caught the bouquet. The same age you think Bella was when she caught mine.”

“Shut up,” he laughed, pulling her to stand at the edge of the dance floor to watch the first dance. His arms slid around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“He wouldn’t have to stoop so low if you’d wear your damn shoes, stellina.”

“Ma, leave her be.” Gianna rolled her eyes, but Sonny squeezed Victoria as the music started. “She’s coming back around. Called ya stellina instead of Victoria.”

It was kind of fun to watch the four members of his work family loosen up around the room. Amaro and Rollins were across the dance floor and not fooling anyone. Barba wasn’t sure what to make of any of the Carisis or Sullivans, but since they’d easily figured out that Olivia was not involved with him, the singles from both families had circled the man who was suddenly the most eligible bachelor. The best part was how hard Olivia ignored his visual pleas to be saved as she talked to one of Tommy’s uncles. It was nice not pretending work and personal life were separate; the squad had taken him in like he hadn’t anticipated, and now his family was taking the chance to accept his squad.

When the first dance was over, Sonny pulled her onto the dance floor, holding her flush against him in a way he hadn’t been brave enough to before. They’d talked every day the last two weeks, and he’d realized they really had hit the turning point. The songs weren’t slow, so his chest was against her back as his hand splayed over her stomach as they swayed. Both their voices were off key as they sang along to each song with the rest of the guests on the floor. Nick and Amanda were wrapped up in each other, and Olivia and Rafael seemed perfectly entertained, so he didn’t feel bad slipping out after a couple hours.

“I know you two. Go ahead and dip. You stayed for all the important parts,” Bella had grinned, bumping Victoria’s hip with her own. “I’m the only sober one here, so this is gonna wrap up earlier than anyone realizes. Baby and I gotta sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, Tor.” That was all it took for Sonny to lace their fingers, duck out of the venue, and start the couple of blocks to their hotel. At first, she wore the heels and walked, but he quickly realized it was the shoes, not the wine, making her unsteady.

“That’s it,” he said, squatting in his suit. “Hop on.”

“My bag’s heavy.”

“I can handle it, babe.”

“You sure?”

“You don’t hop on, we’re going spider monkey front carry, and we both know that always ends in me tripping more.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and Sonny held her thighs, careful to keep the fabric under his palms to save her some modesty. When they were outside the room, she slipped the key from his breast pocket, helping him push the door open before he dropped her on the bed.

“Thank you,” she sighed, toeing the pumps off and letting them fall.

“Glad to be of service.” A little salute as he started to strip out of the suit and hang it. “Thanks for always ditching early for pajamas with me.”

“Glad to be of service.” She hung the dress and tucked the strapless bra away, and when Sonny turned from the closet, he saw her in the oversized sweatshirt again as she pulled the blankets back on the bed. He hadn’t bothered for two. They’d had that option every time but hadn’t used it when they were fighting.

“Comfy?” He ran a hand through his hair, breaking up the gel before flopping beside her.

“Very.”

“It’s literally nine o’clock. Are we old, Tor?”

“Old? No. Codependent? Maybe.”

“We been living apart a year and a half. Maybe we’re just a clique.”

“Very true. We’re like if the plastics were millennials who had been married a decade.”

“We should write that script.”

“Forget law school. Teen movie parodies based around our marriage.”

“Perfect. I’ll drop all my classes tomorrow.”

“I missed you. It’s been nice talking all the time.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, watching her with his cheek pressed to the pillow.

“Regardless of if you’re ready to tell me, I wanna keep talking a lot.”

“I’m ready. I just was going to wait. Don’t wanna ruin our weekend.”

“I feel like you’re going to tell me and realize I don’t care as much as you thought. Unless you fucked somebody.”

“First, last, and only, Tor.” He rolled onto his back, taking a deep breath, and Victoria knew him well enough to know this really was going to be the moment. She sat up, legs tucked beneath her. Leaning towards him a little, she put her hand on his chest and rubbed what she hoped were soothing circles as he put his hands behind his head. When he was nervous, Sonny talked to the ceiling, just needing her to anchor him.

“Just trust me, okay?”

“I trust you, vita mia,” he murmured, and that particular Italian term of endearment let her know it was really happening. “You remember when my hours changed? End of 2011. Became a detective. Acted funny when you took me upstate. A year before I fucked up and forgot your birthday bakery combo dinner.”

“Of course.”

“I was working homicide.”

“Okay?”

“It really fucked me up, Tor. What I seen, it was so bad. The women. There were so many women, and they’d be so pristine. One of them was in a fuckin’ dumpster even. But he took all the time to give her a bath and do her make up and get her dressed. And you know what that always told me?”

“What?” she whispered, taking the hand that went from behind his head to rest on top of hers.

“It was their husband or boyfriend. The person who they trusted. And their faces were so peaceful, Victoria. They knew what was coming. And I’d go talk to people. You know what they’d say? They weren’t surprised. They’d seen it. They’d heard it. Those men hurt their wives and girlfriends. Took advantage of the fact they trusted and loved them. I started seeing you when I saw them, Tor.”

“Sonny,” she whispered, hating the way his voice sounded. It was thick with emotion, and he’d closed his eyes. She was well aware that if he opened them, they’d be rimmed red and tears would be falling. “This is what you couldn’t tell me?”

“You’re so proud of me. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I couldn’t sleep and it hurt so badly. I’d wake up freaking because I thought it was you. I’d never hurt you, but my brain just- I don’t know. And then you’re so good. You deal with cakes and fondant and cannoli and things that make people happy. I was so scared that if I talked about it, it would blot out the light in you. I felt like the only light I had was you. I think I pulled away because of that and it snowballed. When it got so bad, the last six months? It got to the point I thought all that darkness and the stuff I was seeing and the stuff my brain was picturing would- fuck- leak into you through osmosis or something. When I wanted to tell you, my brain would just change the words I wanted to say.”

“Sonny, I didn’t know it was like that,” she murmured.

“You couldn’t have known. I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I should have figured it out.”

“Don’t do that, doll. If you’re willing to trust me to tell you moving forward, I just want to move forward.”

“I shouldn’t have left, Dominick. You were hurting, and I just abandoned you.”

“I was depressed. I should have told you or talked to someone. Being depressed doesn’t make it okay to neglect you. I need to take care of myself.”

“And I should have stuck with you. Figured out the why.”

“You did though. I’ve known that I can come to you for the last two years. I just couldn’t get past myself. Doc’s been working through it with me. Says I gotta learn that dad bottling it up wasn’t good. It works better for him and ma because she couldn’t read him when they met. I never had to tell you so I didn’t know how. And then dad doesn’t believe in men sharing their feelings. It’s easy to ignore that for the good feelings. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t tough enough.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you how I was feeling. I knew you saw dark stuff and I was scared to make it worse. I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Are we okay?” His voice was almost pleading, barely a whisper as his eyes finally opened to look at her. She laid against him, cupping his cheek as his hand flew to rest on hers. They were both crying, and she hated it. She hated to know that it was such a stupid miscommunication. If she’d pressed on it, taken guesses, asked around, maybe she could’ve helped him not hurt. This new squad seemed good for him, and therapy was helping. She probably needed to address their relationship more in therapy, learn how to ask for what she needed. They had to an extent, helping her hold out as long as she had for him to open up.

“We’re okay, Sonny. I’m so proud of you.” She was nudging his nose with her own, not dropping his gaze.

“Thank you for being so patient.”

“I’d have waited for ya forever. First, last, and only, Sonny.”

“Come home.”

“We gotta consolidate now,” she teased gently. “But I’ll come home.”

“It’s in Brooklyn now. You’ll like it. I didn’t even get rid of that stupid dog statue.”

“He’s a very important dog statue.”

“I love you, you weirdo.”

“I love you too, nerd.” He missed laughing with her, even when they were both crying. The relief that flooded him was suddenly exhausting. Not telling her had been heavy on him for a long time, but he didn’t expect his body’s physical response to the openness. He felt like he did before he went on this pointless journey to hide the bad parts of his field from her. She knew what he did. She kissed him, slow and sweet and loving, and Sonny’s arms snaked around her. They’d kissed plenty since she left, but there was always a hesitance behind it. Unsureness around their status. Now, he was kissing his wife, not his estranged wife. Even if it took time, they were working towards her coming back home. They hadn’t had sex since their ill fated first run in post separation. It was slow and sentimental, and afterwards, he had a half second of panic she’d disappear. Instead of pulling away like his gut wanted, he curled around her frame, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“I missed that,” he murmured.

“Me too.” She rested her hand on his, and he could feel that she was smiling in how her cheeks moved. He felt greedy, wanting to feel every bit of her skin he was able to before he fell asleep. When he woke to find her still there, he was relieved, and even better, she’d twisted in the night, leg hooked over his hip and her chest pressed to his. They’d spent most of the night talking or tangled together, so they’d slept in until ten o’clock. He checked his phone to be sure everyone had made it through the night before. Once he reminded his mom he was spending the weekend and really wouldn’t be at Sunday dinner, he settled back in to watching her. After a while, she started to stir, pulling him closer. She’d been right, everything had changed once he told her. He didn’t feel like he had to keep any space between them.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, and she stretched her arms over her head.

“Heya, handsome.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, and it took all his attention not to take her again. He’d made plans for the day, and he was determined to stick to them. Even if they hadn't reconciled, she was a sucker for the beach, even when it was cold, so he’d planned to take her to lunch, take her to get her nails done, and take her to walk the little shops he’d found. It would make her smile, and he’d missed the little trips they’d taken before. Other than going to the cabin, something she’d planned, it had been years between work and school and money. For their tenth anniversary, he was already planning, even though there was just over a year to plan. He wanted to take her back to New Orleans, just the pair of them together now and no disappointment on her part that her mom was there but ignoring her.

“I planned a day for us.” His hands trailed her spine, and he realized something else had shifted since he told her the reality. While he thought it wasn’t possible, he felt even closer to her. The men in his family, though well intentioned, had always told him it would be viewed as weaker to share his emotional world with anyone. They thought it was a little girly for him to be as sappy with her as he tended to be, tearing up at weddings and when he talked about how proud of her he was. But the bad things? Those were weaknesses that would drive her away. The realization that the depression and inability to separate work from her didn’t scare her off made him realize that letting her see it wasn’t going to break them. Hell, it seemed to bring her closer.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Lunch on the beach. Little walk on the beach after. Manicure- I know you, Tor. Don’t try to say you got one for Bella’s weddin. You love them but won’t take yourself ever- and then we can walk around some of the little shops and stuff.”

“That sounds like a real romantic day, Dom.”

“What can I say? I learned my lesson about not being romantic.”

“I’m excited to come home.”

“Me too, Tor.”

Tag: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

#law and order special victims unit #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x oc #sonny carisi x reader #svu #writing

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