#but now I have my heart set on soup so I’m probably gonna make it with vermicelli or smth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kedreeva · 2 years ago

Note

For a poor COVID sick brain, may I give this prompt from a medicated dream scene I just woke from 😘:

Steve: “Yeah. I’m both-sexual”

Robin: “do…. do you mean Bisexual?”

Steve, nodding confidently: “yeah that’s what I said.”

oh my god I love you but please go back to sleep

-----

Robin let herself in the front door, pocketing her spare keys, and waving a thank you to Keith, who had not only swung by the grocer with her but dropped her off at Steve's afterward. He owed her, for taking Steve's shift on top of her own, and she had promised she would get Steve back on his feet as fast as possible.

She headed for the kitchen and ditched her bag before bolting up the stairs and straight to Steve's room. He'd sounded awful on the phone when he'd called in, and she'd worried about him literally all day. She didn't even consider knocking on his bedroom door, couldn't fathom why he'd shut it in the first place since he was the only one here, and froze when she saw the mound of blankets on the bed.

"Steve?"

The mound shifted like some kind of jello turtle, and Robin relaxed at the sign of life.

"I brought- uh, I brought you soup," Robin tried, a little louder than before. "It's still in the can, I didn't- you'd probably get sicker if I tried to make it from scratch. I got oyster crackers too, the little ones you like to just eat plain like some kind of heathen. And uh... some cold meds, because- Steve? Can you hear me?"

A sound emanated from beneath the blankets, which began to roil until Steve's ridiculous, floppy hair appeared approximately near the pillows. "Robin?"

"Yeah," she said, moving closer so he could see her. He stared, eyes bleary, hair awry, and face flushed and Robin's heart gave a little twist of sympathy. "You look like shit."

"Oh, you're real," Steve said, flopping back. "I feel like shit."

"I know, you called in sick," Robin said, coming to sit at the end of the bed. She didn't want to get sick, but she wanted to be there for him. "You've never called in sick. You once came in with a hangover so bad you spent the entire shift-"

"Stop, god, please." Steve flopped the covers back up over his head, muffling his voice. "I'm so fucking cold, Robin. I'm going to die."

She pursed her lips and got back to her feet. "I'm gonna go warm up the soup. That'll help, right?" Steve made some kind of unintelligible noise, and Robin nodded. "I'll be right back."

It took longer to find the can opener than it did to heat the soup, and a concerted effort not to spill it on her way back up the stairs with it, the bag of oyster crackers crammed under her arm. She wasn't sure that soup actually helped colds or whatever Steve had, but it seemed like the right thing to do, and it wasn't like she could just leave him here alone. He probably hadn't left the bed, hadn't eaten anything. She'd probably have to excavate him and make him take a shower.

Or not, she thought as she got back to the room to find Steve had excavated himself to the floor and was lying spread eagle in his boxers. She sighed, setting the soup and the crackers on the nearest flat surface.

"Steve? Are you okay?"

"You left," he said plaintively.

"And this was as far as you got following me?" She didn't mean it to come out so incredulous, but it was better than outright laughing at him. Probably. "Get up, you should be in bed."

Steve groaned and put an arm over his face. "I don't want to be in bed. I've been in bed all day. Alone."

"Well, now you're gonna be in bed all night alone, too," Robin said, nudging at his ankle with her socked foot. He twitched his leg and kicked at her half-heartedly. "I'm not feeding you soup on the floor."

"But you'll feed me soup in bed?" Steve asked.

"I'm not feeding you soup anywhere."

She nudged at his foot again and he twitched his foot back at her again, but he struggled to roll over and crawl back onto the bed. She waited until he was seated and at least somewhat stable before she opened the bag of oyster crackers and put it in his hands. He stared down into it with a frown.

"Not soup," he said after a few seconds, and Robin coughed to hide her laugh as soon as he looked up at her.

"Crackers," she said. "I'm going to go get a thermometer and frankly I don't trust you with a bowl of liquid unsupervised right now. So eat some crackers, I'll be right back."

She left him there, staring into the bag of oyster crackers as if it contained all the answers to the universe, and made her way to the nearest bathroom. She wasn't sure which one he'd keep a thermometer in, but she guessed the upstairs one, nearest to the bedrooms. A bit of searching proved her right. She tromped down the stairs just to make a little noise in the huge empty house, grabbed the cold syrup she'd brought, and returned to his room to find him exactly as she'd left him, crackers uneaten.

"Robin," he said, without looking up. "I think I like both."

She looked between the crackers and the soup. "Well, that's good," she said, moving to set the cold meds beside the soup, which she picked up and stirred before holding it up for him to see. "Do you wanna trade me, and then you can put some crackers in and have both?"

Steve's face screwed up. "What? No, not- not- that's not both. I mean, I-" He looked up at her, like she should understand, and she nearly fumbled the bowl in her grasp when she realized what he meant.

"Oh." She stood for a beat, and then: "Like both."

He nodded, and dropped his gaze away, back to the crackers, and hell, apparently they did contain some answers to the universe. "Yeah. I think I might be... both-sexual."

"Do... do you mean bisexual?" she asked gently.

He nodded confidently now. "Yeah, that's what I said."

It wasn't, but she was pretty sure she didn't need the thermometer anymore to tell her how high his fever was- the answer was surely very high, to the point she considered maybe trying to carry him to the hospital immediately. To the point where she was pretty sure he wasn't going to remember any of this in the morning. She sat beside him and gingerly tugged the bag of crackers from his grasp, replacing it with the bowl of soup, which he immediately wrapped his hands around like they were in the arctic and it was his only lifeline. She sprinkled some crackers over the top, and watched as he fished them out with his spoon, more eating the damp crackers than the soup.

She leaned against his shoulder. "I wish I could know what conclusions you would have reached if I'd handed you the soup instead."

Steve snorted. "It wasn't the- it wasn't the crackers." He shoved the two he'd fished out into his mouth and held the cracker-bereft bowl closer to her for more of them, until she obliged. "I kept having dreams."

"God that's even better," she said. "Steve Harrington fever-dreamed his way into a sexual awakening."

"You're making it weird," he told her, using the back of the spoon to push the crackers under the surface before scooping them up.

"It's already weird," Robin said, shoving her shoulder into him a little more for emphasis, and then: "Congrats, by the way."

He stilled, twisting a little to look sidelong at her. "Is it... is it something you're supposed to congratulate? Should I have-"

"No, Steve, no," Robin told him, shaking with laughter and dumping more crackers into his soup to distract him. "I'm just- you've just come a long way from the guy I sat behind. I like this you a lot better."

"Oh." Steve turned back to the soup and fished out a couple more crackers, but then just sat there with the spoon resting on the edge of the bowl. "Me too."

Robin smiled. "I think I'll like you even more when you're not delirious."

Steve chuckled, the sound turning into a cough he fought to suppress. "I think I'll like me better then, too. You brought meds?"

"Yeah," she said, nudging his bowl. "I'm not giving you anything on an empty stomach though. There are limits to my ability to nurse anyone and they stop at cleaning up if you puke. So, drink up."

He gave her a bit of a lop-sided smile, but he raised the bowl to his lips and took a few slow sips, and Robin clambered to her feet to get the meds with a smile of her own.

#stranger things #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things fic #buckington besties #my writing #askbox prompts #prompts are indeed still closed #but this person is my friend and I can't bring soup over #so she gets this because it's all I have #FEEL BETTER FRIEND!!!!!!#asks

349 notes · View notes

prettytoxix · 2 years ago

Text

A day off📚

Billy Hargrove x Reader

POV: he’s not a jerk 🤗

Summary: You notice Billy is sick before school starts so you make him stay home and take care of him

Word count: 1066

Billy had always been the stubborn one in our relationship. He does it as a joke mostly but other times he’s just so set on doing everything to his standards. But today he actually didn’t protest any.

When he arrived at my house to pick me up for school, like usual, he didn’t look like he was feeling good. Me being a concerned girlfriend I instantly ask him how he feels and place my hand on his forehead and his cheeks to make sure his temperature is fine.

He gently grabs my hand off his cheek and kisses the back of it, insisting that he feels fine. But I cant help but feel like he’s starting to get a fever. His face is red and starting to bead with sweat, his cheeks felt hotter than usual, and it almost looks like he’s shaking a little bit.

“Are you sure you’re fine? I don’t want you going to school if you’re starting to get sick.”

“I’m probably just getting a bug from Max. I’m fine though, alright? I got this.”

“Billy, you literally look like you’re gonna pass out. Why don’t we both just take the day off and get you some rest?”

“Are you sure? I know you have a test today.”

“I’ll survive. Now let’s get to your house, okay?”

Billy doesn’t protest and drives to his house pulling into the driveway. Neither of his parents, his dad or his step mom, are home.

“I’m surprised you’re not being all stubborn like usual… I was fully prepared to have a 10 minute argument just trying to get you back home.” I tell him jokingly as we unbuckle and start to make our way inside.

“I’ll never deny alone time with you. Maybe this is part of my plan, you ever think of that?”

“What plan?” I ask smirkingly.

“I’ll get you sick too so I can take care of you.” He puts his arm around my waist.

“How sweet of you.” I say sarcastically as he leans in for a kiss.

I get Billy to lay down in his bed while I go to the kitchen and grab some water plus some crackers.

I want to make this day as relaxing as possible. I’m trying to think of some simple things to do that’ll keep him busy so he doesn’t whine all day. I know if we just hang out all day doing nothing then Billy is going to complain. Maybe we could pop into family video real quick and rent a movie. That’s not a bad idea actually.

I arrive back into Billy’s room where he’s patiently waiting for me. I set the water and crackers on the side table while sitting on the end of his bed.

“I was thinking, do you maybe want to rent a movie for today?”

“Hmmm, I think I’ll pass. I have a few other ideas.” He says smirking. I already know what he’s thinking and we’re absolutely not doing that right now. It’s supposed to be a relaxing day.

“We’re not doing that.” I tell him blatantly. “Today is for resting. Why don’t you figure out what else you want to and we’ll do it, alright?“

He sighs and his eyes widen with an idea. “Could you read to me?” Thats odd. Billy never enjoys books.

“I thought you didn’t like books. You must be really sick.” I joke, placing my hand on his head again.

“I just really like listening to your voice.” He says. His hand brushes my hair away from my face. How could I say no to that? I get up and look through his shelf. Luckily I left my book here last time I was over. Billy always sleeps in and I’m usually up by 7 so sometimes I’ll just sit there and read.

With the book in my hands I begin to read aloud. My hand finds my way to his hair. I gently massage his head while he listens contently.

After I read about three chapters, we start to get hungry for lunch. We make our way to the kitchen and I find a can of soup in the pantry.

We sit at the table joking while eating our soup. It feels nice to joke with Billy like this. For the most part he’s kind of closed off in front of other people. He puts on this tough act in front of other people. But with me he’s light hearted and sweet.

After lunch we sit in the living room and he insists on playing a card game. He grabs a deck of cards from the little hallway closet and sits down on the couch next to me.

Before we even begin the game I make us some tea to sip on simply because you can never go wrong with tea. Billy isn’t a fan of tea but for once he didn’t complain about it today.

I sit back down and he deals out our cards. He explains the rules of war to me like I’ve never played it. I let him explain it anyways.

“Dot worry, I’ll let you win.” He jokes as we start.

I beat him four times in a row and I can see his competitiveness come out. Not like it’s a game of strategy, but he’s getting frustrated with the amount of losses he’s suffering.

Just when he deals the next set of cards, Max walks through the front door and sees us.

“Why weren’t you guys at school today?”

Billy clears his throat, storing away this light hearted person and bringing out the tough and emotionless one. He’s about to say something but I answer the question before he can.

“Billy wasn’t feeling well so he took a sick day.”

“He looks fine to me.” She remarks.

“Yeah well he was pretty bad this morning so we just took the day to relax.”

“I see…” she looks down and sees the card game we’re playing. “Hey can you deal me in?” She asks, setting her bag by the door and sitting on the couch by me before we can even reply. I would have said yes anyways.

Billy, Max, and I play card games for the rest of the evening until their parents get home. They invite me to stay over for dinner and I quickly accept, not wanting this perfect day to end.

#stranger things fic #stranger things imagines #stranger things blurb #stranger things 4 #st4 imagine #billy hargrove blurb #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove imagine #billy Hargrove #billy hargrove stranger things #dacre montgomery #hargrove x reader #Hargrove blurb #Hargrove imagine #stranger things fluff

240 notes · View notes

scarlettriot · 3 years ago

Text

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

#mha #mha smut #bnha #bnha smut #hanta sero #sero #sero smut #hanta sero smut #sero x reader #sero x y/n #hanta x y/n #hanta x reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #smutober #kinktober 2021

577 notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c��mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles end of the day #harry styles x ill reader #harry styles x sick reader #harry styles x you

489 notes · View notes

itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

Text

Bring Me Back

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Filming “Cherry” had its ups and downs for Tom. When filming finally takes its toll on him, you’re there to instantly bring him back from the world of Cherry.

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, PTSD, murder. A smidge of smut.

A/n: In honor of the Cherry🍒 trailer dropping, I decided to write this!

(GIF creds: @atealiers )

Any kind of project was a blessing to Tom. He loved being an actor. He was fond of telling stories through the big screen and got a kick from portraying many different characters. Acting was something he felt passionate about, it was his craft and he was very dedicated when it came to becoming his roles. Cherry was quite different from the other movies he’s been in. It was dark and contained many subjects like drug addiction, PTSD, and crime. The world of Cherry was something Tom was not used to; it was twisted. He hasn’t been exposed to things like drugs or the events that Nico Walker had been through. Which was why he was hesitant to take on the role of Cherry.

When the Russo Brothers approached him with the idea, he was excited. He was getting the opportunity to tell another story and would explore the world of a new character. Though the more he looked into it, he realized that maybe he wasn’t up for the role. Was he really ready to dive into the dark and traumatizing life of Nico Walker? As an actor, he was willing to take the job, it would give him an opportunity to expand his career and would possibly be one of his best work. As Tom, he wasn’t sure if he could handle learning or re-enacting the events that occurred in Cherry. But Tom did like a challenge, which was why he ended up agreeing to become Cherry.

He prepared himself mentally and physically pre- production. For research, he interviewed army veterans and former drug addicts to get an idea of what it was like to be in those positions. To get the look of Cherry, he did a variety of things. For example, going on a diet and losing weight, then gaining said weight again once they had to shoot the army scenes. Another thing he did was shave off the gorgeous brown curls that adorned his head. At first you weren’t too happy with his change in hairstyle, but later on you found yourself running your hands along the short strands of hair, loving the fuzzy feeling it gave your palms.

After the interviews and hearing others’ experience, Tom felt a level of responsibility to tell the story of millions of people around the world. Not only was it telling the story of Nico, but of other army veterans who suffered from PTSD and people who’ve had drug addictions. He was fully on board now and there was no looking back. He was going to push himself to the limit and to places he’s never been before.

Filming was tough. There were scenes he had to do that were so unlike him, that felt wrong, and sometimes he just had to take a step back. They didn’t feel right, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. This was his job, if he wanted this movie to be the best that it can, he was going to commit. Thankfully, he was working with the Russos, who he’s known for a while now. He was familiar with the two and they were patient with him, giving him the time to regain himself before shooting an intense scene. The cast and crew were very understanding as well, creating a safe space for him on set. Having Harry along with him helped as well, the familiarity of his brother kept him grounded and avoided him from falling into the void of Cherry. Though he had all these supportive people around him, there was only one person who could calm him down when things got suffocating on set. The only person he wanted to be in Cleveland with him but wasn’t. You. Since you had your own life and job, you were unable to fly out to Cleveland with him. Instead you stayed at your shared home with Tessa as company. All he needed was you when he felt the affects of Cherry caging in on him. Just the sound of your comforting voice over the phone could clear his head and make him breath again.

He had his bad days on set, where he would have to take a moment and hide in his trailer for a few minutes. During those few minutes he liked to be alone as he waited for you to answer your phone. The line would ring, it’d stop, then the sound of your sweet voice would be the only thing he’d hear. Sometimes you didn’t answer the first time, but nonetheless you answered eventually. It wasn’t the same as having you with him in person, you had your responsibilities, and he understood that. He just wished that one day you’d come to Cleveland. He wanted to be in your arms, stuff his face into your neck, breath in your familiar scent, he just wanted to feel you. You were his home. His safe haven. And it was all he wanted right now.

•

Glancing at your phone, you wondered why Tom hasn’t texted you yet. Not that you were itching for him to text you, but because around this time he would be blowing up your phone telling you things that happened during filming or how his day was going. You decided that filming probably went into overtime making him busy during his break. You shrug to yourself and continue working on your laptop.

You hear the sound of Tessa’s nails clicking against the floors as she enters the office of your home. You greet her with a smile as she settles herself beside your legs.

“Is it dinner time already, Tess?” You scratch her head as you glance at the time on your screen. It was currently nine at night, a bit late for dinner, but you haven’t noticed.

“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll get us dinner. How does that sound, love?” A somewhat sound of approval emits from Tessa. You get back to work, fingers typing away as you finish off the last of your work.

You finish in four minutes, finally satisfied with your work. You let out a content sigh and turn your laptop off. When you get up you stretch and let your bones crack after being in the same position for hours. Tessa joins you, stretching out her front paws then shaking her body out. You chuckle as you lead the way to the kitchen. Taking the scoop for Tessa’s kibble, you fill her bowl up, causing the dog to look up in curiosity. Once you placed the bowl down, her tail wagged wildly as she stuffed her face into her food.

You decided on going for something simple, ramen noodles. You were too tired too cook anything and ramen noodles were the quickest thing to cook in your pantry. While you waited for the noodles to heat up you checked your phone. You went through your notifications, but there were still no texts from Tom. Though you were concerned, you assumed that they had a long shooting day, making him too busy to text.

Hi love! I hope you’re doing well in Cleveland. I know you’re probably busy, but hopefully filming isn’t tiring you out too much. Have an amazing day! Don’t forget to drink some water from time to time and eat :) Tess and I miss you and love you so much! Talk soon xxx

You send the text with a smile. He won’t read it till he was free or done with filming, but you knew he’d see the message while you were asleep.

The microwave beeps, letting you know that your food was done. You end your night catching up on episodes of New Girl and eating soup. When you were done you did your nightly routine and settled in bed. You turn the lights off and snuggled under the warm sheets.

“Night Tessa.” You whisper to her. A huff comes out of her as she makes herself comfortable on the foot of your bed. When the both of you were settled, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Buzz

The harsh vibrations of your phone shook you awake. Desperate for sleep, you blindly grab your phone and turn it off. Silence fills the room again as you turn around to stuff your face into Tom’s pillow. You were slowly drifting back to sleep when your phone began to vibrate again. With a groan you stretch back and snatch for phone off the night stand. You don’t bother looking at the caller id.

“Hello?” Your voice rasps out.

“Thank God you answered.” The person on the other line said. “I know you’re busy, but how soon can you visit Cleveland?” The deep voice was belonged to Harry.

“Uh—I’m not too sure, I’ll need to check in with my boss.” You reply. When you start feeling more awake you become curious as to why Harry can be calling you. “Why? Is everything ok? How’s Tom? I haven’t heard from him all day.”

The younger Holland sighs. He takes a moment to answer your questions making you suffer in silence, wondering what could have happened to your boyfriend. “Um, they’ve been shooting some intense scenes lately. Tom’s been trying his best but everyone’s noticed that he’s been a bit different.”

You sit up in bed feeling more awake. “What do you mean by different, Haz?”

“Well he’s snapped at the Russos quite a few times. There was this one scene, that they shot multiple times, and Tom would just break down after every one. (Y/n), I’m concerned for my brother, I don’t know what else to do. He’s locked himself in his room after every shoot. A—and I don’t know. I’ve tried to tell him that he can talk to me but he wouldn’t.” Harry explained, his voice croaked. You heart felt heavy for him. Harry was always there for his older brother, so to see him feel so helpless made you feel sorry.

“Haz, calm down, you know how your brother can get. How long has this been happening?”

Harry sniffed over the phone, “About a few weeks now. It’s only started becoming worse last week and now.”

The concern you felt for Tom grew. From what he’s been texting you, filming had been going great. He appeared happy on your FaceTime calls and sounded like his usual self. But maybe he actually wasn’t.

“Harry everything’s gonna be fine, alright?” You assure him. “I’ll call my boss first thing in the morning and when I get the ‘ok’ to leave I’ll get the first flight out to Cleveland. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds good. Can you tell me if you can make it? I’ll have someone come with me to pick you up at the airport.” His voice is quiet, almost muffled.

“Yeah I will, don’t worry.”

“Ok, thank you (y/n).” A small smile forms on your lips. You rub the sleep out your eyes as you glance at your closet. “Alright Haz, I’m gonna go now. But if there’s anything else, just text me or call.”

“I know, stay safe (y/n).” You bid him goodbye and place your phone on the empty space beside your side of the bed. Tom’s side of the bed. You bite your lip in thought as you worry about your boyfriend. You knew he was doing almost everything he can to make sure the movie came out perfect. If that meant shredding himself emotionally and physically, he was going to do it. Tom was dedicated to his work, but he’s never done anything close to Cherry, making you worried about the thoughts that could possibly be going through your lover’s head.

Tessa, who’s now woken up, waddles closer to you, sensing your uneasiness. You appreciate the dog’s gesture and pull her into your side, resting your chin on her head. You were basically sleepless the whole night. Although you haven’t emailed your boss yet, you already had a suitcase packed of your clothes. Your passport and other important belongings were already in a bag, ready to leave London.

The morning had been hectic. You’ve managed to get two hours of sleep, waking up at six in the morning. Still in bed, you sent your boss an email about a family emergency and how you needed to be out of the country for at least a week. As if the gods above knew of your situation, your boss willingly let you go, no questions asked and gave you well wishes. With that out the way, you scowered the Internet for flights to Cleveland. Luck was on your side that morning because you’ve booked a flight that took off in the afternoon. With your bags packed, you drove to Nikki and Dom’s to drop off Tessa.

Now all checked in, you were at Heathrow Airport waiting to be called for your flight. You were sat at your gate, with an iced coffee and a croissant from Starbucks, texting Harry. The two of you were discussing the time you’d arrive and how he’d pick you up. When you were both in agreement, you two decided to catch up. He had been in Tom’s trailer eating his breakfast. An hour passes and you were being called to board the plane.

You settle in your seat, but your leg bounced in anticipation. After the things Harry told you, you just wanted to have your boyfriend in your arms. You knew everything was probably getting to his head, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that he was going to be ok. As the plane began to take off, your lack of sleep caught up on you. Throughout the whole flight, you slept soundly, the worries of Tom subsiding for the time being.

~🛬~

The plane lands in Cleveland safely. It was night when you arrived. With your bags, you looked around the airport for a familiar curly haired boy. Harry waves wildly at you before running and pulling you into a tight hug. You laugh wrapping your arms around the slender boy.

“How’s your day been, Haz?” You ruffle his hair as he rolls your suitcase to the parking lot. He shrugs, “The usual. Was on set with Tom, ran around and got things for him, nothing much happened honestly. But you’re here now, so this is the highlight of my night.”

The two of you approach a black car with a driver inside, Harry motions for him to unlock the trunk. He lifts your case in before the two of you get into the backseat.

“How was your flight?” Harry asks you. The car began to move, exiting the airport and entering the highway.

“I slept through all of it, I don’t remember a thing about the flight besides getting on and off it.” You chuckle, leaning your head back against the headrest.

Harry nudges your shoulder, “Thanks for coming out with such short notice.” You wave him off. “It’s no worries, anything for my boys.”

The car is quiet, the only sounds that could be heard is the car’s wheels against the pavement. You turn to Harry, “How was he today?”

“He was pretty good in the morning.” Harry started. “Then filming started and he would grow frustrated after a few scenes. His temper’s been short. He snapped at me during lunch, which is normal, but I just asked him if he wanted some water. He broke down after a certain scene today, I tried talking to him but he still wouldn’t open up about it.” Tom wasn’t too open about his feelings sometimes. He struggled to voice them at times making all his frustrations and feelings bottled up in his head.

Half an hour later and you guys arrive at Tom’s rented home in Atlanta. As soon as you opened the door, you felt the heavy atmosphere. It was somber and tense, the chilliness of the weather also felt inside the house. Harry gestures up the stairs, “Don’t worry, go see him. His room is the first door on the left.”

You quietly thank him and climb up the stairs. You find his door, taking a deep breath before knocking. You hear some shuffling behind the door, “Harry I’m fine! Leave me alone!” His voice was deep, a bit scratchy. You frown at the door.

“Tom?” The room falls quiet. Suddenly you hear fumbling and the sound of heavy footsteps behind the door. The door opens and you finally see him. He was dressed in a large shirt with sweatpants. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, eyes glassy, and chapped lips.

“(Y/n)? You’re here?” He asks you in disbelief. A tight lipped grin forms on your lips.

“Yeah, Har—“ You were going to explain how you got there but he immediately threw himself at you. His arms wrap tightly around your figure, his head dipped into your neck, pulling your closer into him. One of your arms go around his neck while the other rubs his back soothingly. A whimper bubbles out of him, his shoulders beginning to shake. You managed to shuffle the both of you back into his room, closing the door behind you.

“You’re ok.” You whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. His grip around you never falters. Though he was much taller than you, he seemed so small at the moment. His body drowned in the shirt he wore, making him look thinner. You feel tears soaking into your shirt, making your heart clench in pain. You rest your forehead against his shoulder, holding and whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he was ready to speak.

A few minutes pass until his removes his head from your neck. You frown at his tear stained face, his eyes and cheeks red from quietly sobbing into your shoulder. Your hands cup his face, wiping the trails of tears on his cheeks. Tom leans closer to your touch, his eyes shut while his lips kiss your palm.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired from the flight.” He apologizes but you shake your head. You lead him to his bed and sit against the headboard. Tom follows in suit, desperately trying to get closer to you. His arms wrap around your torso, his head rests on your chest, while your legs tangle themselves together.

“I’ve had plenty of sleep on the flight, how are you?” Your lips are against his short hair from holding him so close. You nails scratch softly at his hair, calming him down.

“I don’t know if I could finish it.” He quietly admits. He shakes his head at himself.

“Why’s that, Tom?” Your boyfriend takes a deep breath as he sits up, removing himself from your touch. He sits across from you with legs crossed as he holds his head in his hands.

“I—I, it’s too much. There’s so much fucked up things he’s done. And all the things he’s seen. I just—sometimes I feel like it’s me who’s committed all of those things. When we shoot the scenes in the war and when I had to do drugs and rob banks, I felt like I lost myself—“ He cries interrupting himself to take a breath in. Compared to your fingers that ran gently through his hair, his clawed at his head. His palms rub harshly at his face, turning his skin a bright tint of red. To see Tom in such pain made you sad. You hated seeing him like this.

You gently remove his hands from scratching at his face and hold them in his lap. He stares down at your hands, clinging onto them as if his life depended on it. “I get lost in the character sometimes and I have to pull myself out of it to bring me back. But it keeps on happening over and over again. Then the Russos kept telling me to reshoot the scene more like Cherry, and I lost it and yelled at them.” You feel his tears fall to your your hands, making tears well up in your own eyes. You shuffle closer to him and kiss his forehead before pulling him into you. You stay quiet, letting him get whatever he wanted to get out.

Tom’s face is against your shoulder again. He sniffs before continuing, “It’s like everyday I find something he and I have in common. Then I think that maybe I’m turning into him. I don’t want him to be part of me. (Y/n), I don’t want to be him, I don’t want to do the things he’s done.” He sobs into your shoulder. Your heart breaks at how broken he sounded. His shoulders shook again, his back burning up with tension. A few tears made it’s way down your cheeks as you pulled his face away from you.

“Look at me.” You urged him. His jaw clenched, still looking down at his lap. He shook his head in response. “Tom, please. Look at me.” Your voice cracks. He slowly tilts his head up, your eyes connecting. He didn’t have that twinkle in his eyes, it’s like they’ve lost the light in them. Instead they were dark, like there was no life behind them. There was a mix of sadness, confusion, and even fear in his eyes.

You sadly smiled at him, cupping his face with your hands. “You’re not going to be him. You never will. You’re Tom. You are nothing close to Nico or Cherry. You are the sweetest man I have known in the world, you wouldn’t even hurt a damn fly. You’re not him. I know you aren’t. You wouldn’t do the things he’s ever done even if you were forced to. I know you Tom, I assure you, you’re nothing like him.” Tom hiccups, gripping onto your wrists.

“When this is all over and you’re done filming, we can forget about him. We won’t even mention him.” You assure him, stroking his cheeks.

“What if—,” You cut him off.

“No, there’s no what if’s. You’re going to be fine Tom. You’re surrounded by people who love you and will make you realize that you’re nothing even near him. You are the kindest man ever, you love your family, you care about your fans, and your brothers. You’re busy always taking care of everyone else, I think it’s time you take care of yourself, love.” You tell him. A small smile is on your face but it falters, “You don’t have to go through this alone, Tom.”

Tom takes a shaky breath in. “You’ll be there right?” He asks like a child making sure his mother will be there when he wakes up. “You’ll be there with me to bring me back?”

Your thumb smooths the crinkle between his brows, “I always will. I promise.” He nods and pulls you into him. You climb onto his lap and settle on his legs. He stares up at you, one of his his hands supporting your back, the other pressed against your cheek. “Thank you. I missed you so much. I’m sorry for not texting, everything’s just been so taxing mentally and physically.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” You turn your face to press a light kiss on his palm. For the first time since you’ve seen him, Tom managed to crack a smile on his lips. He moves some strands of hair away from your face before resting his large hand on the back of your head. “I love you. I love you so much, (y/n).”

“I love you too, Tom.” You whisper against his lips. He takes that as a sign to finally crash your lips together. After months being apart, the feeling of his lips against yours felt like coming home. The kiss was desperate, like it was the air you both breathed. Tom had been longing for your touch, he craved you every second of the day, whether it be sexually or just missing you. The kiss grew rough, your teeth clashing, tongues poking and gliding against each other.

Tom lays you down on the bed, hovering over you. His hands grab and stroke at your body, trying to pull off your clothes to get close to your skin. He suddenly pulls away from your lips. “I need you. Please, I need you.” He almost begs you. Panting, you nod and push him to lay on his back. “Ok, let me take care of you, Tommy.”

He yanks his shirt off, throwing it to the side. You do the same, leaning down to meet his lips again. You kiss your way along his jaw and down to his neck. When you find that certain spot, he lets out a throaty groan, head falling back against the pillows. You run your nails along his chiseled abs and slightly roll your hips against his growing length. Tom grunts, hands instantly connecting to your ass and gripping onto your cheeks. He helps you roll your hips more, deeper with more friction against you two.

“Mm, Tom. I missed you.” You moan against his neck. You bite down and soothe the spot with your tongue after.

Tom looks down at you, lifting his hips to meet your clothes pussy. “Fucking miss you so much. You have no idea how much I’ve been dreaming of being buried in you again.” You kiss your way down his chest, but Tom stops you. His hands grab onto your leggings and slide them off.

“N-no foreplay. I need to feel you.” He stutters out, mouth agape. You nod in agreement and take his sweatpants off along with his boxers. You spit in your hand, running your hand along his dick to give it some wetness. Tom helps you lift yourself over him and guides your hips down his erected cock. You let out a combination of a sigh and moan as your walls envelop and stretch around him. Tom slightly sits up against the headboard, your tightness wrapping around him. He lets out a cry of relief, your walls around him feeding his cravings. You use his shoulders as leverage to pull yourself up but Tom stops you.

“What’s wrong?” You eye him cautiously. Tom shakes his head, “Nothing’s wrong. I just—can we stay like this for a while? I just want to feel you, please?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” You send him a reassuring smile as you settle back down on him. His hands make themselves comfortable around your waist. You maneuver your arms under his and wrap them around his back. Tom smiles at you, rubbing your back and guiding you into his chest. Before you can nuzzle your face into his neck, he presses a kiss to your temple and lets his fingers get tangled in your hair.

With his eyes closed in bliss, he whispers, “Thank you for bringing me back. I love you.”

You kiss his collarbone basking in the feeling him being so close to you. “I’ll always be here. I love you too.”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland headcanon #Tom Holland smut #Cherry #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland drabble

2K notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: both non-sexual and sexual pet play, dom!jimin, sub!jk, sub!tae, handjob, yoongi and yn pretending like they don't wanna suck the souls out of each other, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mutual masturbation

A/N: welcome back to my best boys ;;;;-; this chapter is being cross-posted from ao3. in the future i'll try and upload in both places at the same time!

DAY TWENTY-THREE

It’s two blocks of pure ice that wake Taehyung up that Tuesday morning. Before he’s even really coherent, he’s hissing and tucking into a ball away from the cold.

“Puppy, shh, it’s just me.”

Even as those chilled items that Tae can tentatively identify as feet tuck between his bare legs, he goes lax and accepts the body that wraps around his curled back. “Minnie,” he mumbles, and it’s so quiet that the older boy probably doesn’t hear, but his grip tightens anyway. “‘What time ‘s it?”

“Early, I’m sorry.” Jimin’s voice, unlike his thawing toes, blows warm across the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Missed you.”

A sleepy smile of bliss crosses Taehyung’s face for exactly three seconds, at which point he recalls the fact that he didn’t go to sleep alone tonight. Shooting up so quickly that his shoulder catches Jimin’s chin, Taehyung peels his eyes open to see Jungkook, awkwardly hugging a pillow to his chest with his legs crossed.

He bites his lip, avoiding their gazes. “Sorry, I, uh, don’t mean to disturb.”

“Shoot.” Jimin rubs his face blearily. “I didn’t see you there, Jungkookie. I should go-”

“No, no, stay,” Taehyung begs hurriedly, launching himself back onto the mattress and wiggling himself back into the curve of Jimin’s front. “Jungkook, um, you can come cuddle too if you want. I like being middle spoon.”

The youngest gazes back and forth at them, never resting long enough for eye contact. His indecision is palpable, but there’s a pleased glimmer too. “Is that...okay with Jimin-hyung? I don’t wanna intrude.”

Jimin’s voice is soft, his eyes slipping closed as he eases his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, arms snaking around his torso. “You can be a part of us too, Jungkookie.”

The words are perhaps more intimate than Jimin even realises, and in the vulnerable setting of a bed in the early morning hours, Jungkook’s hard swallow is audible, before he slowly puts the pillow aside and tucks his feet under the covers, slipping down. It’s not until Taehyung’s arm is his headrest and the other one provides a comforting weight low on his hips that he speaks up again. “Do you… do you mean that just for now, or… Or for good?”

“What do you think, Minnie?” Taehyung’s fingertips trace lazily over the bare skin that’s exposed by Jungkook’s shirt riding up. “Can we keep him?”

Jimin hums in affirmation. He’s just about asleep again, but Taehyung can feel his pleased smile against his shoulder. “Of course we can, puppy.”

The repeated nickname causes Taehyung’s heart to twitch just as his dick does. It’s no less endearing and special, but Jungkook is still perfectly awake and right there, and it feels a little confronting.

But Jungkook just chuckles, twisting around in Taehyung’s slack embrace to face him, eyes bright. “If you’re a puppy, what am I?”

Taehyung’s careful not to jostle Jimin. He’s begun snoring, nothing more audible than regular snuffling, but still Tae doesn’t want to disturb that rest. “What do you mean, Jungkookie?”

He scrunches his nose, thinking away. “Well, there’s Minnie and there’s puppy. I want a cute nickname too if I’m gonna be - you know - with you guys.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung begins haltingly, “Jimin calls me puppy because… God, it feels silly saying it out loud. He calls me puppy because sometimes when we’re together I go into puppyspace. You know; like petplay.”

“That’s not silly,” Jungkook says reflexively, even as his eyes widen and lips part. “What’s it like?”

“Puppyspace?” Taehyung asks. Jungkook nods eagerly, and the motion is transferred through Tae where they connect, making Jimin grunt and bury his nose deeper into the crook of his neck. “It’s so peaceful, Jungkookie. He takes care of me so I don’t have to think. I can nap and cuddle and play, without all of the stresses of life. It feels all warm and cosy, you know? I love it.”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in wonder, his fingers finding their way to Taehyung’s worn black sleepshirt, fiddling with the hem. “Can I try? How do you… how do you know if you can do it?”

Behind Taehyung, Jimin lets out a half-asleep groan, his nose pressing against the taller one’s back. “Of course you can try. Let’s just sleep for now, though? I’m sure Minnie can play with both of us later.”

It’s that promise that allows Jungkook to settle, nodding with a tentative hum and shifting down so that his head can rest in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung falls back under like this, with a heartbeat thrumming against his back and soft, even breaths tickling his bared shoulder.

“Hobi?”

Hoseok pauses, frothed toothbrush clamped between his teeth. “Mmng?”

“I don’t-�� you cut yourself off, clearing your throat to dislodge the thickness that distorts your voice. “Can we not tell them?”

He bends over to quickly spit out the majority of toothpaste, but when he stands upright to face you again there’s a smear on his chin. “Tell them what?”

You blink. “Last night. I just… I don’t want them to- to pity me or treat me like I’m glass or anything. I know it won’t happen again, it was just…” Shrugging hopelessly, you give up on trying to put words to it. “I don’t know.”

The dom remains silent for a few moments, lips pursed in thought. “The chicken must have been bad,” he concludes.

Bewildered, you cock your head to the side. “Huh? What chicken?”

“You and I went out for dinner at this fried chicken place, but when you got home last night it made you sick. That’s why you aren’t quite yourself today. I’ll get Yoongi-hyung to make some hangover soup.” His eyes are warm, pulling you into a comforting one-armed hug. “Just the chicken, that’s all. Yeah?”

You swallow down the swell of gratitude and instead bury yourself into his safe embrace. “Yeah. That’s all.”

To his credit, Yoongi doesn’t ask questions, pushing all his concern into his cooking. The doctor all but feeds you himself, hovering with a furrowed brow and a napkin. Strangely enough, his fussing goes a long way in cheering you up, and you let the events of yesterday wash away with the salty broth.

Hoseok hangs around for a while before going down to do some laundry, Namjoon briefly jumps in to steal a spoonful directly from the pan, eyes never leaving the novel he’s holding open with a single hand. Even Jungkook stumbles in blearily at one point, nose first, requesting an extra two bowls for Jimin and Taehyung as well.

You’re onto your second serving by the time it’s just Yoongi and you. He’s pulled up a chair beside you, cradling a coffee. “I got a text this morning, you know,” he begins gently. “I can ignore it if you’re not up to it.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, recalling Sejin’s instructions the day prior. “It’s your day, then?” He nods silently, scanning you for any reaction. You hum, spoon swirling lazily in the dregs of your breakfast. “I’m up to it,” you answer finally, “if you are.”

“Always,” Yoongi replies immediately, voice bared and soft. His hand passes over yours, squeezing briefly, before he stands up and clears the bowls from the table. “Aspirin is in the pantry if you need it, blue container.”

You give him your thanks, left alone as he disappears upstairs.

Grabbing a glass and pouring yourself some water, you track down the aspirin and take out two tablets, grimacing as the bitterness sticks to your tongue. While you may not actually be sick, a headache was beginning to bloom between your brows.

So much had happened in the past few days, you almost felt like you’d gotten whiplash. The early days of lounging around the house and chasing pleasure seemed so distant. Feelings tangled things up more each day, unraveling quicker than you can get a hold on them.

It wasn’t just you, either. You saw the way the guys looked at each other, how gentle they were, how thoughtful. It was in the little things. Jungkook’s laundry pile started featuring clothes from the other maknaes; Namjoon and Hoseok always sat so close together, even when there was room on the couch; Yoongi had started giving the others bigger portions when he cooked, even as his stayed the same. And Jin…

You startle when a door opens, glass almost slipping from your hands. It’s the unfilmed room across the stairs. You frown as a tall figure slips out, swamped in a massive pink hoodie that you’d never seen in the house before. A sleeve-covered hand reaches up to rub under the hood, dark hair poking out. Your breath catches. Jin…

He moves across the hall gingerly like his body aches, hand never leaving his face as he grumbles sleepily. For a split second, your mind entertains the thought of sprinting past before he sees you, avoiding the conflict that is no doubt upon you.

But only for a split second. Because the only thing worse than being confronted by him is not seeing him at all. You wait, instead, until he rolls his shoulders back, tipping his face to the ceiling to stretch out his spine. The hood falls back, exposing a serious case of bedhead, tired eyes, and sallow skin. But it’s Jin nonetheless, beautiful despite his apparent exhaustion, and your heart breaks again for being the one to cause this.

He notices you when his head comes back down from the stretch, and were you not in such despair you may have cracked a smile at the way he jumps. “Y/n…” he mumbles, voice barely audible.

Your mouth goes dry. Even if it wasn’t you don’t know what to say, simply bracing yourself for anger.

He doesn’t stiffen his features, however, simply watching you with melancholy eyes. “You look sad,” he says weakly.

Your heart is racing a hundred beats a second at just hearing him speak to you, and it takes you that much time just to process his words, eyes pricking sharply. “I am sad,” you reply honestly, blinking the wetness away. “You look tired,” you whisper in return.

His bottom lip trembles, before flattening tightly. Instead of responding verbally, he just nods.

The two of you sit in that silence for a while. Jin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes unfocused as they slip past you. You think you might be sick with the way your stomach flips.

Finally, you can’t stand the silence. “Are you still mad at-” you begin, but your words die in your throat as you’re enveloped tightly by him, clutching you so close that your chest constricts. The tensed breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a sob, and your arms fly up to hug him back, just as tightly.

There’s nothing more than just a simple hug, but your heart is still full, almost overwhelmed by the cathartic relief of having him close to you again, his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands rubbing circles on your back, the gentle sway as he rocks you in the hold.

It lasts for an eternity too short, and when he pulls away you feel untethered, already pining for that contact again.

His eyes are swimming, though you see the way he tightens his jaw to hold it back. “I’m devastated,” he admits, “but I miss you too much to ice you out like this. I need time but god, I don’t want space. Can you give me time?”

You’re nodding hastily, sniffing as your nose threatens to run. “Of course, Jin. I’ll be here. I… I think I-”

“Don’t-” he interrupts sharply, sucking in a shaky breath. “Don’t let now be the first time we say it. Later,” he promises.

We. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, electricity thrumming along your nerves. You let that word settle you, repeating it in your head as Jin sends you a sad smile - but a smile nonetheless - and takes his leave, disappearing upstairs.

You decide to take a bath, in the end, letting yourself soak in the thought of “we” a little longer.

“So, what, we start barking? Chew on some sticks?”

Taehyung colours violently and Jimin sends Jungkook a sharp glare in rebuke. “Say less,” he scolds the youngest, before reaching up to run his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, breaking up the curls. “We just ease into it. Taehyung doesn’t use it for humiliation or anything like that, he just likes being taken care of. Isn’t that right, pup?”

Taehyung hums, eyes already fluttering as he leans his head into Jimin’s palm. The three of them had migrated onto Taehyung’s now-made bed after their breakfast after Jungkook once again mentioned wanting to try petplay.

Significantly larger than Jimin, Taehyung has to awkwardly shuffle down the mattress further to rest his head in Jimin’s lap, but Jungkook can immediately see the lines of stress that melt away once he does so. Jimin smooths his hand down to cup the younger’s chin, delicately stroking the soft flesh as if he were patting a sleepy dog.

“You’ll just watch for now,” Jimin instructs Jungkook without removing his gaze from Taehyung, “and if it feels right, you can join in. There are no expectations and no rules, only to respect the process and don’t disrupt Tae’s petspace. Got it?”

Jungkook swallows as Jimin chooses that point to lift his steeled gaze, brows high as he waits for Jungkook to agree. “Got it,” the youngest confirms. He gets comfy, tucking his feet under him and leaning up against the pillows.

“Such a lucky boy,” the dom begins with his voice like melted sugar. “Dogs aren’t meant to be up on the furniture. But you’ve been good lately, so I thought I’d treat you.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed. He shuffles slightly, stretching one leg out until his ankle dangles off the edge of the mattress, but doesn’t audibly respond.

Jimin chuckles fondly through his nose, hand running down to rub up and down Taehyung’s clothed tummy, which is now facing upwards. “Oh, pup,” he coos, “you must be tired after the big walk. How about we rest for a bit, and we can play later?” Instead of waiting for a response, the dom just gasps like he’s forgotten something important. “Oh! Your collar! I must’ve taken it off when I took off the leash. Never mind; Jungkook, dear, could you get me the brush and collar out of the bedside table? Bottom drawer.”

It feels like the very particles in the air shift when Jungkook is ripped away from the observer role and into an active participant. He swallows away the dryness in his throat to little avail and nods, fumbling with the drawer handle and pulling out a barely-used hairbrush and velvet dog collar. “These?” he asks redundantly, nerves settling when Jimin gives him a pleased smile and holds out his hand.

“Alright, little puppy,” Jimin announces, his voice lilting easily back into the candyfloss tone that all owners used with their pets. “Let’s give you a brush before we put your collar back on. I don’t want your coat getting matted.”

Taehyung gives a small, throaty hum and lifts himself laboriously up onto his elbows, tipping his head up to his master. Jimin pats his cheek warmly and calls him a good boy, and Jungkook gets a front row seat to the beautiful sight of a sleepy, lusty Kim Taehyung going pink in the face, a shy smile twitching his lip.

‘Brushing his coat’ is just brushing his hair, but even Jungkook can see that the technique is slightly different. Jimin does it slowly, methodically, line by line from the front to the back, then reaching around to the nape of his neck to give it a good brushing there - Taehyung all but shivers at each swoop of the brush - even folding down each ear when he goes past. Watching it is nothing short of mesmerising, and Jungkook feels his spine tingle, wanting to feel it too.

Was it too soon to join? He could always ask for the brush later, he decided. Though even as he reached that conclusion, the thought was slipping out of his mind sand through fingers, hazier and hazier the more he listened to Jimin’s lull tone and watched his patient movements.

“There we go,” the dom whispers, passing the brush over one last time to settle all the curls in their rightful place, “much better now. Chin up, pup; time for your collar.”

Taehyung’s chin lifts the minutest of degrees. Jimin waits for a moment, but the brown-haired boy looks almost like he’s falling asleep on the spot, swaying slightly as his elbows prop him up.

“Silly me,” Jimin tuts with a smile, reaching out to manually adjust Taehyung how he wants him. “Doggies can’t understand human words, can they?” Like a proud parent, he turns to Jungkook, grin widening as he sees the state the boy is in. “I am trying to teach Tae-tae some commands. Sit, lie down, wait. Suck. He’s getting better.”

With that, the dom grabs the collar off the duvet and fiddles with the buckle, undoing it so that he can wrap it carefully around Taehyung’s neck. The process reminds Jungkook much of what happened when his parents put a collar on his childhood dog: slipping a finger under the material to test how snug it was, shifting it around until the small dangling pendant was to the front, giving it a little tug to ensure the buckle was on right.

At the gentle tug, Taehyung practically topples, going lax with his face down on Jimin’s thigh and snuggling down, breaths even. Jimin doesn’t comment on it, simply humming in acknowledgement and returning to softly stroking his back and shoulders. But he does glance over to Jungkook again, eyes glinting. “Do you wanna come a little closer, hm?”

At the invitation, Jungkook almost trips himself scooting over, wrapping his arms around one of Jimin’s and holding it to his chest. Seeing the tender moment shared between Taehyung and Jimin had made him feel positively touch-starved, desperate to feel some of that sweet attention.

Jimin’s eyes widen in bemusement before twisting his hand in Jungkook’s grip and giving his stomach a little scratch. “Goodness me, little energizer bunny, huh?”

Jungkook whines, recognising that higher-pitched voice. He was being talked to like a pet, and the thought made his insides hot. He presses his face against Jimin’s shoulder, feeling the heat on his skin there too.

“No need to get all shy on me now, bun,” Jimin teases. “I’ve already seen that little friend in your pants. Well, I suppose he’s not that little.”

Jungkook tightens his arms around Jimin’s one, wanting to rock his hips up to feel some friction. He just squirms instead, hoping his need is answered. “Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin sucks in a breath. “Can this bunny speak, hm?”

Jungkook blinks, the furnace inside him cooling for a moment. “Am I not… supposed to?”

“I’m not telling you off, I’m asking,” Jimin explains softly, cocking his head down at the potentially-sleeping Taehyung in his lap. “Tae-tae likes to be non-verbal. It’s just preference. Would you rather keep speaking?”

After a moment of thought, Jungkook nods, then props his chin up, sending Jimin his best puppy eyes. “Minnie, I need you,” he pleads in a small voice, writhing against him again.

Jungkook’s fingers curl when Jimin’s hand dips lower suddenly, grasping his length from over the fabric of his sleep shorts. The pleasure is like a bolt that shocks his whole body, and when Jimin strokes him once, the texture of the fabric increasing the friction, the guttural sound that falls from his lips is more animal than human.

Jimin just smiles placidly, patting the throbbing heat once. “Does it hurt, bun? Want me to make it go away?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook’s breath is shallow with excitement. This feels like new territory, relying fully on Jimin to relieve the ache, too helpless, too stupid to do anything about it himself, just a dumb bunny with a generous owner.

“You’re drooling, bun,” Jimin points out, voice raspy with arousal. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Jungkook feels fingers at the elastic band of his shorts before Jimin withdraws. He whines, a pout threatening to form, but the dom just runs his fingers and palm over Jungkook’s mouth and chin. Then, when his hand delves in and grips Jungkook, he’s slick with Jungkook’s own drool, the slide wet and hot and electric.

He moans, but saliva won’t stop gathering in the hollows of his mouth. It’s like it’s impossible to close it at all, every firm, purposeful stroke making it harder to do that basic function.

“Noisy boy,” Jimin scolds, though there’s no venom to his tone. “You might wake the puppy up, bun.”

With a strangled groan, Jungkook’s head flops down, his teeth banging against Jimin’s shoulder. A thought floats across his dazed mind, of pressing his teeth into skin, lovebites to colour the bronze.

But his teeth don’t sink into flesh. Fabric fills his mouth. Jimin’s shirt. His teeth don’t stop, though. On the contrary, he chews on the cotton, letting it muffle the sounds he can’t help but make.

“Oh, good boy,” Jimin praises warmly, his hand speeding up mercilessly to pitch Jungkook over the edge. There’s no foreplay, no kisses or teasing touches. His hard cock is a problem that his master is kind enough to solve, that Minnie-hyung is making go away, and he won’t stop until his bunny has finally-

When Jungkook comes, his whole body feels it like an earthquake. Every muscle jerks, pulses so that his toes curl and his core trembles, the drool soaking the fabric of Jimin’s shirt now until he feels it run down his own neck, blubbering through the waves of it.

Jimin slows down after the first burst of cum, but doesn’t stop, only tightening his grip like he’s milking every last drop out.

Once the tides of pleasure have dipped back down again, Jungkook goes boneless, whimpering until the hand finally leaves his softening, oversensitive cock.

He’s panting, all of his body weight on Jimin to stay upright, and it takes a few moments for his senses to properly return to him, his heart still beating erratically in his chest. “Oh, fuck.”

Jimin giggles elfishly, before reaching up to tap on Jungkook’s bottom lip with wet fingers. “You made such a mess, little bunny. Clean it up, now.”

Jungkook welcomes the digits, blinking blearily as the bitter tang of his own cum fills his mouth. He sucks Jimin’s fingers clean two at a time, swirling his tongue between them dutifully. It isn’t until he’s done and Jimin is praising him that he restores enough energy to sit up again.

Across from him, Jimin peels the soaking wet sleeve of his shirt off his shoulder, laughing softly in good humour even as his brows furrow at the weird feeling. Before Jungkook can offer up an apology, Jimin is stripping it off entirely, chucking it away and rubbing at his now-bared chest. “Much better,” he muses to himself. After a moment of letting Jungkook clear his head, Jimin turns to him, his dry hand returning to lazily card through Taehyung’s curls. “How was it, Jungkook?”

“Uh,” Jungkook replies eloquently, feeling the way his cock still throbs every few seconds in aftershocks. “Uh.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin states proudly, before sending Jungkook a serious gaze. “We’ll talk later, yeah? When your dick isn’t hanging out.”

Jungkook flushes, scrambles to tuck himself away, and the movement jostles the bed enough that Taehyung groans, craning his neck up with bleary eyes and rumpled hair.

The two sitting on the bed go silent. Jimin cocks his head to the side and cups Taehyung’s cheek. “Were you- Tae-tae, did you just have a nap in the middle of the scene?”

Taehyung beams sleepily, eyes still lidded. “Mm.”

“Tae! Are you out of petspace now?”

“Think so.” With a dramatically loud cry, Taehyung reaches an arm up into a deep, arching stretch, rubbing at his eyes once he’s done. “Mm, yeah, definitely. My foot has kinda gone dead too.”

As Taehyung sits up to rub at his foot, pressing his thumbs into the muscle, Jimin’s shoulders sink with a deep pout. “Tae-tae,” he whines again, “you know I like playing with puppy.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung replies easily, though it doesn’t sound like he is in the slightest, “I guess I just wanted to destress more than anything. I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

Jimin’s face softens, his complaints dissolved at Taehyung’s words. Without a verbal reply, he just reaches out, hooks his finger on the neckline of Taehyung’s shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss, humming into it slightly.

The movements, the touches are so natural and intimate that Jungkook feels like he’s intruding. It only lasts a moment before they break apart to go shower, but it’s enough time to sear the sight behind Jungkook’s eyelids. Maybe he’d been allowed to join them in their scenes, even cuddle with them, but he wasn’t a part of that bond that tied Jimin and Taehyung so strongly together. The thought sinks in his stomach, and he decides to skip the shower, getting dressed instead for a long workout downstairs.

When you knock on his door, Yoongi is at his desk, a pair of black-framed reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He glances up, an eyebrow lifting in mild surprise.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You muffle a smile at his domestic getup - a grey t-shirt hangs off, far too big for him but outlining his chest and strong shoulders nonetheless, and his long black sweatpants all but cover his bare feet, toes tapping the carpet unconsciously as he waits for your reply. “I’ve been informed that today is your day.”

“Ah, checking in to the Fuck Hotel, I see,” he quips casually, slipping his glasses of and shutting the lid of the laptop he was working on. “We do have one vacancy.”

“Is that so?” you say, unable to stop your grin as he stands up from his office chair and rolls his head back like an athlete warming up.

“Comes with a continental breakfast,” he assures, before ducking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “God, hyung is becoming a bad influence on my sense of humour.” With slightly pink cheeks, he stretches out a hand towards you, before jerking it back and freezing, fingers curled and tensed. “Wait. Shit.”

You frown, glancing down at yourself, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

“Hm. I just remembered my prompt, is all.” He takes a step back with a thoughtful furrow of his brows, clenching his hands into fists and putting them behind himself. “Dammit, I was meant to think of a game plan but I got distracted sorting out- uh- client emails.”

“Was this a bad time?” you ask with a light laugh, even as you cast a guilty glance towards the laptop. A month in and he was still doing work?

“No! No, it’s fine, it’s just…” Wincing, Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck and takes another step back, gesturing down at himself, and at the messy work desk. “I’m not in sexy mode yet. I look like a stay-at-home dad trying to work out how to order groceries online while my toddler is finally having her 2pm nap.”

You pause before an incredulous laugh bubbles out of your throat. “Okay, first of all, I think stay-at-home dads are very sexy, and I happen to think that you are very sexy. Secondly, ‘her?’ Why was that whole analogy so specific?”

Yoongi huffs defensively, petulantly throwing himself down to sit on the bed with his legs splayed wide. “I used to have a life plan, okay? But that’s not relevant now. The point is, I haven’t worked out how to do a good scene. I don’t want to it to be disappointing. Or, god forbid, boring.”

Your frown just deepens. “It doesn’t need to be an elaborate setup, Yoongi. Just fuck me. Touch me, at least. I can’t believe we’re still both wearing all our clothes when I’ve been very explicit about my intentions.”

You don’t miss the wince that flutters across his face. “That’s kinda the issue. Touching you, I mean.”

“You don’t wanna touch me?”

“I-” Yoongi all but stomps his foot, teeth clenching in frustration. “Of course I fucking want to, but I have to stick to my prompt, Y/n.”

Your mouth drops open. “So your prompt is that we can’t even touch each other? Doesn’t exactly sound very appealing for a porn show.”

He clicks his tongue. “You can still touch me,” he corrects with a dry gaze.

Unconvinced, you narrow your eyes. “Isn’t that convenient?” you question rhetorically. “Gonna make me do all the work this week because you haven’t organised it in your planner yet, Doctor Min?”

He glares at your teasing tone. “Excuse me for trying to play the game properly.” You swallow as his eyes run down your body heavily, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If I could touch you, trust me, I’d have you dripping by now.”

Your thighs tighten, but you force them not to move. The last thing you want him to know is that you’re just about dripping already. “Sounds to me like you’re just lazy.” He doesn’t react, watching you make up your mind. You suck in a breath to hype yourself. “If I walk away right now, you’ll get nothing. Not only will you lose your prompt, but you’ll be stuck with blue balls. But if you give in and fuck me already, then you’ll only lose the prompt.”

“Who says I’ll even have blue balls? I’m perfectly comfortable,” he fires back immediately, tipping his head to the side cockily.

“Oh, please,” you drawl, letting your eyes fall to the sizeable bulge beneath his sweatpants, “you aren’t that big soft. Don’t kid yourself. So do you wanna get off, or not?”

His gaze hardens to stone, jaw flexing. “I’m surprised you think I need you for that. Aside from the fact that there are six other people in this house, I brought a fleshlight from home for a reason.”

Now that is something you hadn’t expected him to say. You freeze from your spot in the doorway, feeling heat pulse between your legs. Your spark of resistance is quickly fading, overtaken by need, so you don’t hesitate in firing back while you can. “If you think your fleshlight is better than me, then that’s your loss. Enjoy the bunkbeds; I’m off to do what you’re too cowardly to.”

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he snips, one of his hands sneaking under his shirt to rub his lower abdomen, fingers slipping below the hem of his sweats. “Shut the door on your way out.”

Feeling like you’ve lost the argument (and a little too horny to care) you have your final say by slamming it, thumping your feet with every step down the hall to your room.

Once inside, it takes mere seconds to throw yourself onto your bed back-first and shove your hand down your pants. But then, before you even dip into your wetness, a thought strikes you.

Pulling your hand out and making your way to your desk, you use your other hand to clumsily type in your password, and open a browser. It doesn’t take long to navigate to the page with all the paid streams for your own show, and with a slight flush you select Yoongi’s bedroom, impatiently punching in your credit card details.

After an agonising wait, the payment is processed and you’re brought to a private livestreaming site, a single window open in front of you.

The angle itself is strange, making Yoongi’s room look larger than it was, but you’re surprised at just how high quality the video and sound is once you bring it to full screen and slip your headphones in your ears. Yoongi is hunched over his nightstand, and you can actually hear the wooden slide faintly in the background as he opens and closes a drawer, returning to his office chair with a seemingly-transparent fleshlight and a bottle of lube.

Something about watching him through a camera in the corner of his room feels so wrong, especially as he palms impatiently at the tent in his pants, uncapping the lube and pouring a generous amount into the opening of the toy. You’d never been much of a voyeur - or, at least, so you thought - but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, blinding slipping your hands down your pants but over your underwear, simply pressing down on your clit to ease some of the crying need.

Oddly, the lube pours down and begins to drip out the other side, creating a dark patch on his clothed thigh. The audio picks up Yoongi cursing, and there’s no further preamble before he’s using one hand to hook down his sweatpants and kick them off to pool on the floor. The motion causes his cock to jerk up onto his stomach, leaving a smear of precum on his grey shirt, visible only by a few pixels of darker grey.

He scoots a little down the seat of the chair and hitches a leg up over one of the arms, eyes slipping closed as the hand not holding the dripping fleshlight grips his own cock, thumb pressing at the head.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans lowly, the sound running through your headphones and straight down between your legs. His brows are furrowed like it’s almost paining him, but he hovers the opening of the fleshlight over his tip as if he’s trying to hold back.

Slowly, he lowers the toy down one inch at a time, until the lube is drooling over his cock. Finally, the transparent toy slips down over his cock and his hips jump off the chair, his knuckles white on the arm of the chair and the fleshlight as he growls and lifts it back off again.

The sight of him intentionally teasing himself is too erotic for you to stay unmoving, and you find yourself burning up, losing the headphones for a moment to shuffle out of your own clothes. You hurry as much as you can, grimacing at your sopping panties, but by the time you’re back in your chair with nothing but a bra and tuning back into the stream, Yoongi’s not even focused on his toy anymore.

It sits propped up on his thigh, with two of his fingers lazily, almost absentmindedly thrusting deeply inside of it to keep it steady as the rest of him swivels in his chair to open his laptop again.

You frown and squint at the tiny screen on the stream. Rows of fuzzy squares stack up, and while you can’t be certain the phallic shapes of some of the miniscule images inside them make you think he was on a sex toy website.

He quickly opens a new tab, however, and your heart begins to beat nervously as a familiar page comes up. One you’d been on just earlier.

With bated breath you wait, hands grasping at the meat of your thighs and clothed breast to hold off on touching between your legs just yet. Yoongi navigates the Bangasm page, going through the same payment process you did.

It isn’t until you’re met with a miniature version of your own room on his screen that you realise what’s happened. And it’s when Yoongi squints and leans in closer, before turning to face the camera directly with a bewildered look, that you know you’ve been caught.

Frozen, you watch the on-screen, Yoongi look back and forth twice, before slowly scooting his chair back on an angle to the table, so that the laptop is in eyeshot even as his body is facing the camera fully.

Your mouth is dry, but the fleshlight he picks up again is wet, so wet that his fingers glisten, almost slipping off the toy entirely. He holds it tightly, transferring it to his dominant hand and teasing the top over his tip, biting hard on his lip.

The squeeze you have on your thigh is almost painful as your core burns, but you’re too stunned still to move, watching him dance the opening of the fleshlight over his cock, never dipping it inside.

With a twitching grin and lusty eyes, he glances towards the laptop. Your whole body feels hot as you glance over your shoulder to the camera in your room, before looking back at the screen. He’s not moving, chest visibly heaving even as he stares patiently at the computer screen.

He’s… waiting for you.

With one strangled breath, you tilt your chair away from the desk, adjusting your own laptop in a similar setup to him. Eyes locked on the stream, terrified you’ll miss a single moment of him indulging himself, you let your fingers uncurl from your inner thigh and trail them down, wasting no time in automatically locating your clit, massaging around the small bud.

Pleasure flows through you like hot water, down to your toes. After holding out for so long, after being so aroused for so long, the simplest touch has your knees weak and your head lolled back against the headrest.

On screen, Yoongi’s grin widens, and he rewards you by lowering the fleshlight, the clear silicone making way for the tip of his cock. He doesn’t stop there like last time, though; instead, he slowly but surely plunges it all the way down until it’s flush with his pelvis. Your eyes fly open when the flushed head pops out the other side, and Yoongi clearly enjoys it too judging by the way he curses and grips it tight, practically panting.

Without really intending, your fingers dip down and slip inside, two already. You barely feel a stretch with how wet you are. Although the feeling of something inside you is nice, you know your fingers just aren’t enough, especially with the angle of you slumped back in your chair.

So, you chance one look back at the screen - Yoongi is using the tip of one finger to spread his precum around the glossed tip of his cock, but his eyes are firmly locked onto you - and walk on shaky legs to your closet, where an unassuming (and so far unused) black silk bag lies amongst your shoes.

The amount of time it takes for you to duck into the bathroom and quickly wash the silicone vibrator you have with soapy water feels like an eternity, and by the time you hurry back it isn’t the toy that’s vibrating.

Frowning, you hesitantly answer the call that’s coming through on your phone from a familiar contact.

Yoongi’s voice immediately fills the room as the pixelated version on the screen rests his phone on the side of his desk, not jerking but twisting the fleshlight in slow arcs around his cock. “Couldn’t get enough of me, hm?”

“Says the one calling me,” you offer back lightly, switching onto speaker mode so that you can settle back in your chair, “enjoying the view?”

“A little too uneventful for me yet, sweetheart,” he teases, and his breathy groan is timed with the Yoongi on the stream lifting the fleshlight up a little and plunging it down again. “How about you put that toy in your pretty little pussy for me. For us.”

You feel your core pulse at the reminder that it wasn’t just Yoongi on the stream. Any number of anonymous strangers could be tuned in right now, seeing you with your legs spread.

The only way to cope is to lean into it instead of shying away. You slide the black silicone toy through your folds to slick it up, sighing with every light pass over your clit. Once it’s as wet as you are, you press the slightly bulbous tip down until it slips inside you, immediately shivering at the feeling.

The toy is small enough that you don’t need any special prep, yet big enough that it was satisfying, and curved just right. It had been your old reliable long before coming on the show, and there’s something strangely familiar and comforting about feeling it fill you out as you push it in deeper.

“Fuck, there we go,” Yoongi praises, and you hear the wet smacking noise of him snapping his hips up into the toy. “I may not be able to touch you, but you’ll still call my name when you cum for me.”

Your toes curl, and you’re no longer able to focus on the stream, letting your eyes fall shut and your ears tune in to his voice alone as you work the toy in and out of you.

He doesn’t waste any time in joining you, and the resulting sounds that fill your room are obscene, him making no effort to muffle the gravelled curses and moans, nor the wet thwack of silicone that gives away his movements.

The noise is somehow even more thrilling than the sight, and the feeling of his eyes on you encourages you to speed your hand up, even reaching down to desperately rub at your clit with the flat of your fingers, shivering at the wave of pleasure that wracks through your body.

It’s not long before you hear Yoongi’s voice turn guttural and the pace of the flesh light pick up frantically.

You wrench your eyes open and gaze blearily at the computer screen just in time to watch the stream of white that spills up through the back end of the fleshlight and over Yoongi’s knuckles. As hot as the image is, you whine at being made to watch this through the pixels instead of in real life, and the thought of being right fucking across from him as he fell apart is enough to make you seize up in your chair, orgasm draining you thoroughly, with not enough force to squirt but dripping on the seat nonetheless.

You take the toy out once pleasure turns to the sharp tweak of oversensitivity and pant, fighting to catch your breath as your feet feel positively numb.

Coming down from your high, you almost forget the running phone call until you hear his voice come through the speaker again. “Have a shower and then come back down to my room. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

The beeping tone leaves you alone in your room, and you loll your head back over the edge of the chair with an exhausted moan, not without a grin playing on your lips. You wouldn’t protest to that.

#the gentlemen #tgm #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #vminkook smut #vmin smut #jikook smut #taekook smut #i don't even know how to tag anymore fksdfjsk

514 notes · View notes

beyondspaceandstars · 3 years ago

Note

hello writer!! i was wondering if you could do a fluff arranged marriage loki oneshot with the prompt “can we makeout now?”

thanks for considering!

Dating and Marriage

Relationship: Loki x Reader

Warnings: N/A, just fluff!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: alright i hope this is okay and ended up well i love the arrange marriage AU and i thought i was gonna be better at putting this together but maybe its clunky or something idk i still like it so i hope you do as well!

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had taken you a while to get somewhere in your relationship with Loki.

When the two of you were informed you had already been promised to one another before either of your births, you weren’t too shocked. As both of you came from royal standings, arranged marriages were far too common for a variety of reasons. In your case, it was to cement a peace treaty.

Sure, at first, you and Loki were very annoyed with the decision, especially since neither of you was ever even given the chance to be in on the conversation but that annoyance wasn’t allowed for very long. You two were adults now and had to take on your royal responsibilities as such. That responsibility included following through on the outlined marriage.

Loki didn’t seem to harbor any malice towards you and you never held anything against him. But, still, it wasn’t like you two were in love. You were tolerating one another.

And for a while, that toleration was enough. As a couple, you were quite poised in public. Sometimes you thought maybe it was hard for others to believe it was an arranged marriage based on how much you seemed to accept each other’s company. It was okay at times, you felt like you had a friend. Being a royal in a whole new palace could be lonely. Loki at least would spare you some time to sit and chat.

But this unusual friendship you two had started after the wedding was growing into something else for you day by day. And as much as he probably wanted to deny it, you could see something shift within Loki. He’d look at you differently. Reach for your hand when out of the public eye. Even began inviting you to spend his leisure time with him.

There was no avoiding the fact you two were headed on a different course than originally planned in this arrangement and despite its prevalence, you two didn’t speak about it. But you were growing greatly tired of ignoring it.

"We should go on a date," you suddenly said one afternoon. You and Loki were sitting in the library. He was in his favorite chair, consumed with some fairytale while you were seated on the couch across from him, in the process of knitting…something. You didn’t know what — you had only taken up knitting because you had heard other princesses did it. Making scarves had become all the rage.

You could feel Loki eyeing you suspiciously as you tried working on another stitch.

Eventually, he placed his book to the side and spoke. "A date?" Loki echoed.

You shrugged, not taking your eyes off the yarn. "Yeah, a date. You know, just the two of us. We could go out or — or maybe make some dinner here. I’ve been having the kitchen servants teach me about cooking."

"I know what a date is," he sighed. "What I meant is, why should we go on a date? We’re already married."

You felt a bit defeated with that response. You set your yarn on your lap and looked at your husband. He was watching you quite intensely, waiting for your answer. You shivered under the icy stare.

"Y-You don’t want to—"

Loki cut you off abruptly. "I didn’t say that." He glanced down then back at you. "It’s just that… Dates are for wooing, yes? Why would I need that when I can already tell you’re taken with me."

Your heart dropped. You blinked at him, stunned. You hadn’t expected him to just…admit he knew what was working up in your mind. There was some pride in his eyes at your reaction but behind it, you could make out a hint of fascination.

You tried shaking off your pounding heart. You promptly picked back up the yarn, continuing your hopeless scarf, as you responded, "Have you never considered that maybe your wife still wants to be wooed despite the status of her interest."

"So you admit," he chuckled, "you have fallen for me."

You scoffed, "Don’t act all high and mighty. I’m well aware of how you look at me."

You heard Loki lean back in the chair as the leather of it creaked. You could feel his eyes roaming over you but you didn’t know in what capacity. Whatever was in his eyes now you were ignoring as you frantically tried to focus on knitting and not your love confession.

"Okay," he eventually said. "We’ll have a date."

It was impossible for you to hold back the smile forming on your lips.

***

After minimal deliberation, Loki agreed to let you cook for him. You had heard that the Midgardians used food as signs of love and were fascinated with trying to learn some dishes. You studied with the servants for days trying to perfect a meal. They were always a little uncertain about letting a princess in where servant frequented but once you explained this time you were cooking to please your husband, they giggled like schoolgirls, excited to help.

Once you felt prepared enough, you informed your husband of when you wanted the date. You may have had to do some rework of both your royal schedules but it was fine. Meetings are forever, love can be fleeting.

You were preparing the food when Loki hesitantly entered the kitchen. You had explained that you two would be eating at the kitchen table. It was just a little table where servants usually sat to eat meals or relax in between shifts.

Loki had originally protested this saying he was not of such low status. You assured him that there was no intimacy to be found at the grand dining hall. It was far too big and annoying for two people. He didn’t argue further, just mumbling that he’d be there at the time requested.

And, luckily, he followed through.

"Hi, honey," you smiled, watching the stew simmer above the flame.

Loki took his seat gently as if he was going to catch something from the table. "This is really what you wanted to do for our date?"

You nodded. "I’ve had so much fun learning this meal and doesn’t it smell great? I think it’s going to be nice. I ever have bread baking." You motioned towards the stone oven. Loki followed your gaze but didn’t look impressed yet.

"We could’ve very easily had someone make this for us," Loki pointed out. "We have that luxury, darling."

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your bubbling stew. You could feel your anger bubbling in the same fashion.

"That’s not the point, Loki," you said, the tone in the kitchen shifting as you spoke his name. You rarely ever did. He perked up as you continued, "The point is that I, your wife, like you and would like to express my adornment through a freshly cooked meal."

Loki fell silent with that, something that was so rare for him. You didn’t push any further, though, and instead killed the fire under the stew and presented your bread from the oven. You divided it out into individual portions then placed each on the table. Still with an annoyed, sour look, you sat across from your husband. He was watching the stew, you were watching him.

"It—It looks delicious," he said

"Thank you," you mumbled. You two dug in then, this date now turning out a bit more awkward than you had planned. Neither of you spoke for a while, instead filling the kitchen with the slurping of soup and chewing of bread.

Loki soon began looking between you and the food like he was working up the courage to say something which was absolutely ridiculous to you. Your husband was one of the most outspoken people in the realm.

Eventually, you just decided to look up at him, your eyes begging for him to say whatever he wanted to say.

"This meal is lovely," Loki eventually said. "Th-Thank you for…doing all this."

You smiled, a faint blush creeping up on your cheeks. "You’re welcome."

Loki finished his stew then asked, "What else should we do on this date?"

Now you were really blushing. While taking your little cooking classes, you asked the servants what else goes on on dates. They seemed like lovely girls and you were curious. You had heard stories before of dancing and parties but you wanted something more intimate and you had never actually been on much of a date before. You spent time with boys in your youth and the night before your wedding you and Loki had talked for a little bit but nothing was ever of such fashion.

One servant had informed you, quite shyly, that she and her boyfriend always finished their dates by making out. You had gasped, amazed at her bluntness but then remembered these were servant girls. They lived far less controlled lives than you.

You were partially envious but then you realized, technically, you had a husband. A husband who was capable of making out with you even if such actions and beyond were typically reserved for very a calculated time — heir bearing, such intimacy only happened during the time when potential conception was at its peak.

"Well," you said, running your spoon through your bowl of stew, "one of the servants that helped me said her and her boyfriend end their dates with make-outs."

"Making out?" Loki repeated, brows raised in surprise. "But it’s not—"

"I know."

He looked away. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain. "You want to make out with me for fun."

You giggled at his shock. "Is that so unbelievable? I thought we already established I am into my husband."

"Yes, but you, well, neither of us, have never been so bold before."

"But it’s not such a bad thing," you shrugged, "to be so bold."

Loki hummed in agreement as he eyed you. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you definitely knew something between you two had shifted. It had already been shifting, sure, but your newly expressed desires opened the dam walls.

"Alright, dear, I think I can indulge you."

You smiled at his excitement which he was certainly trying to hide. But you maybe wanted to take a moment to maybe mess with him a bit. "Hmm," you glanced around at the dirty pots and pans, "after we clean up."

Loki’s jaw dropped. "What?"

"We can get on with our date once we clean up."

"You’re kidding me, right?" He pointedly asked. You shook your head. Loki huffed, "When did my wife become such a tease?"

You stood up, collecting your bowls and plates, bringing them to the counter. "I’ve always been like this, honey," you said. "Maybe you just have to get to know me a little bit more."

Loki began stalking towards you as you pretended to be fooling with the dirty dishes. "Well, darling," he said as his hands came upon your hips, "there’s something you must know about me and it’s that I don’t like to be kept waiting."

"I can maybe leave all this for later if you ask nicely."

He scoffed. "Are you asking me to beg?"

You shook your head. "I’m just asking you to ask nicely."

"Fine," he sighed. "Please, can we make out now?"

You sighed, leaning into his hard body. His arms moved to wrap around your waist now. "Yes, your majesty."

Loki chuckled lowly, dangerously, in your ear. "Thank you, princess."

He leaned his head around and within seconds, your lips were captured with his, getting more and more lost in one another as you two become a miss of kisses and touches.

242 notes · View notes

warmblanketwhump · 3 years ago

Note

Idk if its too late to send this in but if it isn't, how about ⬤ and ✿?

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

⬤: being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey

(note: this MIGHT be cheating but my poor brain was stuck on ideas SO this is a part two to this prompt fill! would recommend reading that first for context, but pretty sure you can enjoy them independently :)

To any other person, the remote cabin would have looked like any old shack – slightly dilapidated, covered in moss, nested away among the trees. But to a lost, soaked, chilled-to-the-bone A, the cabin looks like a warm little slice of heaven, and it takes all they have not to run up the stairs. Instead, they slide an injured B off of their back and help them hobble to the small porch.

The pair limp across the threshold of the cabin and leave the pattering rain behind them, entering a small, spotlessly clean living room that smells of cedar and pine. A large, squashy-looking couch faces a dark fireplace with a tall stack of split logs nearby, and to the right of the doorway is a small kitchen. In the back, A spots a darkened bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a linen closet. The cabin's rustic, so there's no electricity or hot water - just a single spigot and a gas stove for cooking.

They set a trembling B on the couch, pushing away the guilt of yelling at them earlier, of making them come out here in the first place.

“I’ll find us some towels and blankets. Can you start getting your wet clothes off?” Amid their violent shivers, B nods and starts shedding A’s raincoat and their own denim jacket with pruned, fumbling fingers. The sight nearly crushes A, but they know someone has to go find blankets to help them both get warm.

A pushes into the bathroom and locates several clean, threadbare towels, then heads to the linen closet. They nearly burst into happy tears when they see the large bundle of hideous plaid blankets and a couple piles of flannel and thermal clothing stacked neatly in the corner (forgotten by whoever rented it last, they guessed) and grab as much as their numb fingers can hold.

When they return to the couch, they find B in nearly the exact spot they left them - denim jacket off one arm, on the other, rain jacket fallen to the floor. They're hunched over, stiff with cold, arms crossed tightly.

“Oh sweetheart.…” A sighs, dropping the blankets on the couch and rushing to them.

“T-tried to ch-change. F-fingers won't-t work-k. I’m s-sorry-”

“B, you have nothing to be sorry about. I should’ve helped you in the first place.” A unthreads the soaked clothing from B’s shaking frame, gently patting their wet skin dry and lightly squeezing the water droplets out of their hair with a towel.

B’s eyes are bleary and unfocused, but they respond to A’s simple commands as they dress them in a pair of warm red flannel pants and a grey thermal long-sleeve. A casts a glance towards B's swollen ankle - it's not the worst injury they've ever seen, but it's definitely got to hurt. They dart back to the bathroom and locate a small first aid kit with a cloth bandage, and tenderly wrap up the sore ankle to immobilize it.

When they’re finished, they wrap B in two blankets: one around their legs and elevated ankle, and the other over their wet head and trembling shoulders. B sneezes, cinches the blanket tighter and groans.

“Look-k like a Russian p-peasant woman.” B grumbles, and A can’t help but let a chuckle escape. They really do look like a grandma, with only their face sticking out of the blanket cape.

“Alright, then, babushka. Let me get a fire started, and I’ll join you in a minute.”

Mercifully, it only takes a few minutes for A to get a roaring fire going. A drapes another blanket around B's shoulders and gives them a quick, reassuring rub.

“I’m gonna change, okay? You just worry about warming up.” B moans weakly and pulls the blanket over their nose, edging closer to the flame’s heat.

A peels off their wet clothing in the drafty bedroom, hurriedly drying their own cold skin and pulling on their own warm clothes - a cream thermal and blue flannel pants. The brief exposure makes them shiver, and they chafe their arms and legs to rub away the goosebumps and the damp chill that sinks into their marrow. For just a moment, they acknowledge how cold they are, too. God, they wish this place had hot water.

The adrenaline of the moment begins to fade, and several facts strike them at once. They were freezing. They were stuck in a remote cabin with no electricity for the weekend. This whole weekend was their idea - and all their fault. And they felt guilty as hell about it.

Squeezing their wet hair, they shove the intrusive thoughts from their mind and grab a blanket from the bed to wrap tightly around their own shoulders, along with a couple pillows from the bed for B.

On returning to the living room, they see B managed to hop on their one good leg over to the fire, leaving a trail of two of their other blankets behind. They’re huddled as close as possible to the warm glow, head resting on the hearth. A drops the pillows on the couch and kneels down, running their fingers through B’s damp hair, now exposed by the fallen blanket.

“Feeling any better, love?”

B gives a small, wan smile that fails to light up their peaked face and shakes their head, turning to cough. When they’ve finished, they shudder weakly, pulling the blanket tighter.

“Can’t shake the chill in my bones.” B coughs again. A can see them rubbing their arms under the blankets. “Heat’s bouncing right off me. And I ache all over, not just my ankle.” Another chill rattles their teeth, and they pull the blanket up to their chin. “I just can’t warm up at all.”

A pulls a shivery B into a hug, rubbing their shoulders and trying to share the little body heat they’ve created - unlike B, the fire’s warmth is beginning to thaw them out. In the dim firelight, A can see a sheen of sweat on B’s forehead, and alarm bells go off. Instinctively, A reaches out to press their cold hand to it. It’s warm now. Too warm for someone who just spent two hours trekking through the cold rain.

"Sweetheart, you're feverish. That’s why you’re achy and chilled.”

“S’pose it makes sense. I’m just freezing.” A gust of wind rattles the cabin, and a draft snakes its way into the living room, making B shudder and curl up even closer to A. “I’d kill for a hot shower right now.”

“Don’t go all ‘The Shining’ on me yet - we just got here.” A grabs a towel to try and further dry B’s damp hair. It was probably an old wives’ tale, but they didn’t have many options to keep a sick person comfortable out here, and wet hair couldn’t feel good.

B had complained about feeling a cold coming on a couple days ago, and mentioned that they might not want to go this weekend. A had made fun of them for it, joking about how someone like B never let a little cold get them down. And now, thanks to them, B was even sicker. They really were the worst friend in history.

“Do you think you could manage some tea?" A asks quietly. B closes their eyes and nods, laying their head back on the hearth.

 It takes a few minutes, but A manages to light the gas stove and locate a kettle, along with a dusty box of herbal tea tucked away in a cupboard. Whoever they had rented from had stocked it high with all kinds of canned soups and dry goods, so at least they’d be prepared for the long haul.

A sudden glance out the window reveals that the rain has turned into fat, white snowflakes, whirling in the sky and dusting the porch. A rubs their hands together, holding their chilled fingers as close to the stove flame as possible. The kettle whistles and A pours two cups, reveling in the warm steam that tickles their nose.

Once the tea is brewed, they make their way back to the fireplace. B's too weak to lift their own head, so A sits behind them and props them up, holding the teacup and helping them take small sips of the warm liquid. Once the cup is empty, A helps B lay their head back on the hearth before adding a few more logs to the fire and starting on their own tea.

Despite the warm fire, A can feel the ambient temperature of the room dropping. There's no way B's going to stay warm enough in the bedroom, so they’ll just have to make do out here for now.

After pushing the couch until it's just inches in front of the fire, A sweeps B into their arms and helps them back to the couch, easing them gently onto the pillows they've laid and tucking a blanket back around them. Even this close to the fire, the brief movement had set off another round of bone-shaking chills in B, and they grip their blanket so hard A’s afraid they’ll tear it.

“A?" B's voice is weak.

“I’m right here.”

“A, can you hold me? Please?” The desperation is palpable. B’s breathing is hoarse and they're close to tears, arms wrapped tightly around themselves. “Shivering hurts, but I can’t stop. I know you probably don’t want to get sick from me-”

A’s heart breaks. “Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll keep you warm.” They slide onto the couch and wrap their own blanket around the both of them, pulling B’s fevered body to their chest. B clings to their body, and A can feel the shakes that ripple through them. A gently massages their arms and back in slow circles and B presses closer, the vulnerability almost too much to bear.

Finally, A says what’s been eating away at them for hours. “B, I’m so sorry for what I said on the trail. I shouldn’t have said it, and I didn’t mean it. I do want you here. And now we’re here, and you're sick and hurt and it’s my fault, and I’m sorry for that too.” The apology comes out in such a rush, and B is quiet for so long in their arms that they doubt B even heard it.

But then they feel B’s trembling arms squeezing their waist. “Nature’s not your fault, A. Besides, if being taken care of is a part of your apology, it's warm and I'll take it."

A grips B even tighter, fighting back tears. “Whatever happens this weekend, I’ve got you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do. You always have,” B mumbles as they slip into a restless sleep. In front of the warm fire, A reasons that the drafty bedroom was probably too cold for anyone to sleep in. No, they were perfectly content to stay right here with B - and not even the promise of a warm shower could lure them away.

#this is a damn novel but whatev #I loved it too much to stop #sickfic #sickfic prompt #whump prompt #cold whump #cabin whump #shivering #flu #fever #blankets #hurt comfort #lost in the woods #this was so fun to write #literally sat on this the entire holiday weekend #edited this SO MANY TIMES #this is what happens when you adore a trope #my writing

169 notes · View notes

michaelslover · 3 years ago

Note

May I request Billy loomis fluff with a sick s/o?

Yes I love this!! Hope you like it <3

(I did not proof read this.)

Billy Loomis taking care of his sick S/O

gn!reader

TW: none. This is pure fluff.

You woke up with an aching throat, a heavy headache and a rising temperature, the feeling left your cheeks burning and your body temperature was rising and falling. You were freezing cold but then after wrapping yourself in 5 fluffy blankets, you felt way too warm again. Checking your temperature, you knew you had a fever.

Billy came back from his training (or basically killing) and he saw you wrapped under a ton of blankets, groaning with only your red cheeks and puffy nose. Billy first thought it was amusing and let out a silent chuckle but when he realised that you were sick, he immediately changed from amused to worried and hurried to your side.

“Aw my poor baby is sick“, he sighs as he looked at you with an sad expression, “Do you need anything from the supermarket? I could get you some soup, medicine or tea? I’m gonna go get you your favourite sweets and I will borrow your fav movies at the video shop. I will be back soon then we can cuddle.“

“You don’t have to do all of this Billy. And if we cuddle you will get sick too. I don’t want you to get sick!“, you cutely said. The sickness clearly audible in your voice.

Billy sighed and gave you a gentle forehead kiss, before going into the kitchen and getting some bags for the supermarket shopping trip.

After what felt like eternity, he was back. Opening the door and quietly walking into the room with more than 6 full bags. You scoffed, being amused and flustered that your lover took so much time for you and that he truly cared about you.

Billy went into the kitchen, storaged all the things and started cooking a soup for you. To be honest, he would never trust himself with cooking a soup, it would probably turn out being too salty. But he wasn’t dumb and he sure was stubborn. Especially when it came to you and your health. He would do anything for you. That’s why he found a recipe on the internet and called Stu to make sure that he was doing it right. (since Stu is the better cook)

You almost fell asleep again but then he came into the room you were laying in. His hands strongly gripping onto the bowl and all his concentration focused on the floor and the bowl, to make sure he won’t fall or trip. Billy made his way over to you, smiling and handing you the soup but still holding a spoon in his hands. He helped you sit up and sat next to you, wrapping an arm around you and scooping some of the soup onto the spoon, waiting till it cooled down and then slowly pushing the spoon past your lips. He looked at you curiously in a silent way of asking if the soup was good. It was good and you cherished this moment with your whole heart.

After finishing the soup, Billy cleaned the dishes and set on some candles. He got a wet cloth to gently wash your face and then sat next to you. He wrapped his arms around you again, turning the TV on but getting under the blankets first.

You smiled at him and laid your head on his chest, slowly snuggling into him. He kissed you on the cheek and watched the movie, slowly tracing small circles onto your shoulder and sometimes even whispering words of comfort into your ear.

After a while you got tired and closed your eyes, just loving this moment and feeling way better than earlier now that Billy held you in his arms. All this comfort and care proofs just how much he loves you. As you slowly drifted away, you heard him whisper..

“Your my whole world, y/n. I love you.“

#billy loomis x reader #scream #horror fandom #horror #slasher x reader #slashers #billy loomis

85 notes · View notes

tpwkjerii · 4 years ago

Text

feverish

you’re starting to come down with a serious case of the flu and, much to the dismay of your doctor boyfriend, you refuse to admit it. luckily, dr. lee minho (and his three cats) is more than ready to help.

pairing: doctor!minho x reader

warnings: ‘baby’ as a pet name, sickness, like one cuss word

genre: established relationship au, doctor au, tooth-aching fluff

word count: 1.6k+

a/n: minho in a doctor’s coat. that’s it.

“You look terrible.”

Those are the lovely words you hear upon the arrival of your boyfriend as he enters your shared apartment after a long day at the hospital. You turn, hoodie secure on your head and just poking out in the corner of your vision, and glare at him while he takes off his shoes and sets down his black messenger bag.

“Gee, thanks for the compliment,” you mutter, your voice hoarse like you smoked several packs of cigarettes a day for years (or like you’d been coughing the entire day, which you have).

“I’m just saying,” he says lightly as he slips off his white coat and places it onto the coat rack. “Are you sick?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shake your head and push him away as he approaches your spot on the couch. “No, I’m fine.”

He ignores you and gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, wincing as his cool hands meet your burning hot skin. “Wow, you’re definitely fine,” he mumbles sarcastically. He rolls his eyes when you push him away again.

“I have to finish this report,” you insist, reaching towards your side for your laptop that slipped away from your lap when you shoved Minho. “And I feel perfectly healthy,” you add as an afterthought. Unfortunately for you, right after you say that, you’re met with the familiar feeling of violent coughs building up in your chest.

Minho stares at you skeptically, watching as your face grows red and eyes widen from holding your breath to hold back your coughs. You pray that he leaves the room for his usual shower after work or that he just turns away, but it’s a lot easier for him to look at you than it is for you to hold your breath. After a good forty seconds, you breathe out heavily and cringe as heavy coughs shake your body.

You push your computer off your lap onto the couch and angle your head down as you cough loudly. Minho sighs and gently pats your back until the coughs stop and you’re able to rest your back onto the couch cushions comfortably.

He stands, stating, “The report can wait until you’re feeling better.” You watch breathlessly as he pours you a cup of water from the kettle in your small kitchen. He hisses as he turns the corner and hits the dining table, internally cursing at the cramped space. The larger (but still cozy) home he found was still bookmarked on his work computer, and he actually wanted to tell you about it tonight. But seeing your current state made him decide to wait until you felt better — you would need energy to keep up with the various spreadsheets and documents filled with pros, cons, and budgets that Chan and Jisung helped him create.

You mumble a small thanks while he hands you the warm mug, adding quickly, “My boss will kill me if I don’t hand this report in by Friday.”

He sighs and sits down next to you, pulling you down to lean against his side as his arms wrapped around your upper chest. “You’ve been working nonstop the past three weeks, you obviously have a fever, a cough, and a sore throat, and I won’t be surprised if your body will start aching and your head hurts later tonight.”

“Gee, what are you, a doctor?” you crack jokingly, but it seems that Minho is in no mood to joke as he deadpans, “Yes.”

You sigh and set your mug down onto the glass coffee table in front of the couch. “Look, I know you’re worried, but I really need to impress Dr. Kang if I want that promotion,” you start, pausing briefly to look up into his warm eyes. “I know you want to move out of this tiny place -” you gesture around the small apartment you’d shared ever since his med school days “- and the promotion can really help us out with that.”

Minho curses under his breath. “I’ll be making more after one more year, I prom-”

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “I don’t care about how much you make, Minho, you know that. It’ll be nice in the future, of course, but I don’t mind working harder now so we can move into a bigger place and get our life going.” It’s a lot to say at once, and you suppress another fit of violent coughs as you reach over to sip your water.

While Minho’s heart grows with adoration, his forehead creases in frustration. “Baby, you’re obviously sick. I wouldn’t be a good doctor or boyfriend if I let you continue to work like this,” he states firmly.

“But I -”

“You’re not fine,” he persists sharply, and you shy away at the firm look on his face. “Now give me your laptop,” he demands.

You sigh and hand him your open laptop, which was slightly warm as it ran the many open tabs and a long working document of your report. “You’ll write my report for me?” you ask sarcastically as he places your computer on his lap.

He hums and it only takes a five-second scan over the many paragraphs of your writing, filled with various statistics and phrases he didn’t even understand, for him to shake his head with a firm “Absolutely not.”

You laugh with him (which was really you just exhaling heavily so you didn’t cough again). “Thought so.”

You watch as he opens another tab and logs into his own email. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he explains, “I’m gonna write Dr. Kang an email to give you an extension. I know she loves me.”

You roll your eyes, reading the text that his fast typing produces.

Good Evening, Dr. Kang!

This is Dr. Lee Minho, Y/N’s boyfriend — we met at the Christmas party last year! I’m writing this email to let you know that Y/N has come down with a rather severe illness. Don’t worry, I’ll be treating her from home and ensure she makes a full recovery. I know she has a report due in two days, but as a doctor I insist she recovers and rests before she works on completing it again. I ask that you give her an extension of a few days so she does not strain herself and worsen her condition. I’m confident that Y/N will be able to finish soon after her recovery. If you have any questions please email me or feel free to drop by the hospital.

Kindly,

Dr. Lee Minho

“You know that she’s going to drop by and use this as an excuse to see you,” you mutter as you lean back and to the side on the couch, your eyelids drooping in exhaustion and (just like your doctor boyfriend predicted) your body starting to ache.

“I know,” Minho responds with a shrug, already moving off the couch to give you space to comfortably stretch out your legs.

“Because she’s basically in love with you — you handsome, young doctor, you,” you continue, your words slurred together and barely coherent. A smile graces your face as you feel your boyfriend slide a soft pillow under your head and a blanket over your body, which you didn’t even notice was shaking. Your smile grows as you feel a sudden weight and purring on your chest — one of the cats must have finally woken up.

“Baby, your sentences aren’t even making sense now.” Minho’s soft voice has recognizable fondness laced in it, and you don’t need to open your eyes to know that he’s probably looking down at you and either Soonie, Doongie, or Dori (you would open your eyes to check but they just feel so heavy) tenderly.

You don’t have the strength in you to respond to his remark, but the recognizable ping of an incoming email brings you to ask, “That her?”

“Yeah, I’ll read what she said.” He clears his voice dramatically and raises his voice to a higher pitch, imitating the nasally voice of your middle-aged boss.

Hello Doctor!

Thank you so much for letting me know! Of course Y/N can have an extension! Tell her not to worry about turning it in until next week Friday and please wish her a speedy recovery from me. You’re such a sweetheart to take care of Y/N and let me know on her behalf.

I’ll be taking that offer of visiting you tomorrow so I can write an official report for Y/N’s leave of absence with a doctor’s note. I promise not to take too much of your time, Doctor! Take care!

Warmly,

Dr. Kang

You scoff. “That’s bullshit. Employees on sick leave can just call in and take their time off with no doctor’s note.”

Minho laughs and leans down to kiss your forehead once, twice, and again. “Just sleep, baby,” he whispers as he caresses your head lovingly. You love this side of Minho — as cool as he may seem on the outside, everyone knows that he’s secretly a softie. It’s easy to doze off with his hand massaging the top of your head soothingly and the cats (yes, the other two joined in the group effort to heal you) purring on top of your chest.

Within a few minutes, you knock out. And right when you wake up, Minho (and Soonie, Doongie, and Dori) is right at your side with everything you needed, from pain medications to a warm cup of soup. Even as violent coughs continue to disrupt your sleep throughout the night, you feel incredibly happy and fortunate to have Minho at your side. While you don’t have much (material wise) for now, your small family is already more than enough.

a/n: sorry this is a bit late, finals are kicking my ass lskmfdls but i have a bunch of upcoming releases planned so :’)) I hope you guys liked this shorter one & pls leave notes/comments as they help me improve !!

292 notes · View notes

silversatoru · 4 years ago

Text

birthdays don’t have to suck

fushiguro megumi x f!reader (elli)

synopsis: you get really sick on your birthday, but megumi makes sure that you still have a good day :))

t/w: fluff, reader is sick, vomiting, medicine (tylenol lol), some details pertain specifically to elli

wc: 2.2k

a/n: a small birthday present for the love of my life @megumifushi who never sleeps enough and is always sick,, i love u and i hope ur days not too bad <3

you stared into your dimly lit laptop, red eyes squinting at the black text that sped across the screen as your fingers scrambled against the keys. you weren’t even sure that what you were writing was comprehensible at this point, but your essay that was due tomorrow morning wasn’t gonna write itself. at this point it just needed to get done, concerns of quality were thrown out the window hours ago.

aside from the burning and stinging in your eyes, your entire body ached, and you were ridden with chills and goosebumps. seemed like a fever was coming on, but you didn’t have the time or capacity to care about that right now. you’d pop a few tylenol and crawl into bed in a couple hours, and everything would be better tomorrow.

what time was it anyway? it couldn’t possibly be that late yet, right?

you glanced to the corner of the screen, eyes falling on a bright 3:56am that made your heart sink and your eyes widen. you had a terrible habit of losing track of time and staying up into ungodly hours of the night — a habit that your wonderful boyfriend was trying so terribly hard to break.

you glanced to your left and took in his sleeping form, his lips parted ever so slightly as he took small breaths of air. he’d be disappointed and upset with you if he knew how horrid your sleep schedule had been lately, and he’d probably blame your chills and headaches on your lack of sleep as well — which in all fairness was probably pretty accurate.

“i’ll just finish this up real quick and then i promise i’ll sleep, ‘kay gumi?” you spoke softly, running your fingers through his soft, spiky hair.

he was undisturbable, his mind off somewhere in a dreamland that was quite the distance from your small bedroom. and that was probably for the better, because him nagging at you to go to sleep would be too distracting for you to get your work done.

your hands moved rapidly against the keyboard for about another hour, words spilling onto the screen until you finally hit the page requirement for your paper. it was probably terrible, most likely had a few words spelled wrong, and honestly you were pretty certain you’d repeated yourself several times, but fuck it — submit. you were typically an excellent student, so one bad paper wouldn’t kill you, and you were too tired and achy to care right now.

you got up and placed your laptop onto your desk, plugging it in and letting a heavy sigh fall from your lips as you made your way back over to the bed. the soft blankets were therapeutically warm on your chilly skin as you crawled in against megumi’s back, effectively turning him into the little spoon and pressing your nose to the back of his neck. thankfully, sleep found you shortly after, your eyes fluttering shut as you drifted off into a much needed slumber.

babe

wake up

babe

you woke up to small finger pokes to your cheek from megumi, his face laced with concern as your vision finally focused on his features. he bent over and pressed his lips to your forehead, pausing there for a fraction of a second and then standing back up.

“i think you have a fever. i noticed when i woke up and you felt like a fucking space heater,” he frowned, confirming your initial suspicions from last night, “i’ll go get some medicine”.

you groggily nodded your head, shivers coursing through your body and dotting your extremities with goosebumps. your condition had definitely deteriorated overnight, your eyes stinging and a horrible nausea creeping up your throat.

by the time he returned with the medicine you had yourself propped up against the pillows, thick blankets pulled up to your chin in an attempt to minimize the icy feeling in your body. he handed two small tylenol tablets to you with a disappointed look on his face — a look that said: i’m gonna kick your ass for not getting enough sleep again.

“i’ll let everyone know you’re not feeling well enough to go out tonight,” he hummed as he handed you a glass of water, your brain filling with thick fog as you tried to decipher why he would need to let anyone know you were sick.

the look of pure confusion signaled to him that you had no idea what he was talking about, megumi shaking his head before he spoke up again, “it’s your birthday, dumbass, we were supposed to get food and stuff with yuuji, inumaki, and nobara and maki”.

birthday

forgetting about that was another habit you continued to succumb to every year.

“mm, shit,” you sighed after drinking back the pills, “i forgot”.

“figured you would,” megumi clicked his tongue, “but i didn’t, because i’m a good boyfriend. can you drag yourself out to the kitchen? you should eat”.

“don’t think so,” you mumbled, attempting to disappear back under the blankets before he could coerce you to follow him outside of the bedroom.

but megumi is impossibly even more stubborn than you are, wrapping his arms under your body and lifting you to his chest, “guess i’ll just have to carry you then”.

“fine,” you let out a long groan — was it a bit dramatic? maybe. but in your defense you felt like you’d been hit with a train.

he peppered your face with kisses as he carried you out of the bedroom, lovingly setting you down on one of the high bar stools around your kitchen table. he instructed you to stay in the chair, abruptly returning to the bedroom to bring out a couple blankets to wrap around your shoulders. you were grateful for the extra heat, you body still shaking and shivering as the medications worked to cure your fever.

megumi was a man of few words, preferring to display his love for you through acts of service than grand confessions, and this was very eminent when he wordlessly grabbed a couple pots and began cooking for you. you let your face fall onto your arms, resting your chin as you watched him silently shuffle between the stove and the pantry. the silence was comfortable, and you weren't going to complain about watching your muscular boyfriend walk around the kitchen in nothing but a pair of loose, plaid pajama pants.

a few minutes later he was placing a steaming bowl of soup and a couple slices of baked bread in front of you, a savory scent flooding your nostrils.

“red lentil,” he spoke as he handed you a spoon, “it’s your favorite, so you better eat it”.

“yes, sir,” you gave him a small smile, dipping the cool metal into the hot liquid and scooping a spoonful into your mouth.

“all of it”

“yes, megumi, i will try”

to no surprise, the soup went down pretty fucking horribly, your head hanging low over the toilet while megumi held your hair out of the way. your throat was practically raw by the time you were done heaving and vomiting up the meal, your eyes brimming with hot tears.

megumi tied your hair up in a neat bun so he could step away, filling up a glass with water and carefully helping you to take small sips and rinse out your mouth. he was tedious with the clean up, washing your face and helping you brush your teeth — ensuring that you felt the best you could given the situation. he then scooped you back into his arms, carrying you back to bed and profusely apologizing for making you eat the soup — but he was just trying to make you feel better, he really was doing his best.

you were ready to add today to your long list of terrible birthdays, chalking it up as another failed attempt, but megumi was not about to let that happen. he knew you had a rough history with birthdays, but now that he was here? you’d have a bad birthday over his dead body.

he scoured the back of your fridge for ginger ale, gatorade, jello, and whatever else he could find to make you the perfect sick-person platter. and he made sure he was logged into every streaming service that the two of you collectively owned, preparing netflix, hulu, and crunchy roll so that he could easily access every single one of your favorite shows and movies. and so you spent the majority of your day tucked safely against megumi’s chest, forcing down small sips of ginger ale and watching an assortment of tv.

your phone rang at some point — a facetime call from all of your friends who had gotten together so they could all wish you a collective happy birthday. megumi stuck a singular candle into a cup of blue-raspberry jello and ignited it with a small flame; and then they all sang the most terrible rendition of “happy birthday” that you’d ever heard, yuuji’s voice a little louder and little more out-of-tune than everyone else's.

you mustered enough energy to blow out the flame, everyone cheering while megumi shoveled a scoop of the blue jelly into your mouth. you swallowed it with a smile, praying it stayed down while everyone sent you off with an assortment of “feel better!”, “we love you!”, and “wish you were here!”

your night got pretty quiet after that, you and megumi climbing back under the covers to watch a few more episodes of your new favorite anime. it wasn’t until well into the night that he finally asked you if he could give you the presents he’d gotten for you. reluctantly, you said yes. you hated receiving gifts (it was just one of the many reasons you hated your birthday) but you knew that megumi wasn’t going to take no for answer.

he was obviously nervous, palms sweaty as he handed you a couple neatly wrapped packages in plain, solid colored paper. they were very megumi, perfect folds with not a single crease, the paper simple yet elegant and adorned with a singular bow on top.

you hesitantly peeled the paper off the smaller of the two, revealing a tiny box that contained a classic looking silver locket. you felt your heart pinch in your chest as you clicked the locket open and revealed two small pictures of each of the two of you. you weren’t particularly sentimental, but on top of your lack of sleep and not feeling very well, the simple gift caused few tears to well up in your eyes. but he was quick to wipe them away, insisting that you had to open the second gift first, and that birthdays weren’t meant for crying.

you followed his instructions, ripping open the second package and revealing a larger box that contained a series of envelopes. each one was decorated with tiny doodles of you and megumi, his demon dogs, hearts, etc. they were sickeningly cute, and you immediately reached for the first one before megumi reached out and stopped you.

“they’re not for now; they’re for when i’m gone, you know, on missions and stuff,” he could barely even maintain eye contact, his eyes dipping low as yours filled back up with tears.

despite your lack of energy and the fever that was starting to return, you showered him in hugs and kisses after that, thanking him over and over for the most perfect gifts, and for making your day as wonderful as it could have been.

all things aside, you were coming around to the idea that birthday’s don’t have to suck.

bonus: the first letter:

to y/n:

i know im not great at telling you what i have to say through words, actually, i’m kind of really bad at it. but i thought writing these might be a nice way to try and get better? i’m not sure. anyway, i guess i’ll start by saying that you mean a lot to me, and i probably miss you a lot right now (even though ill be too afraid to reach out and say it). not sure how long i’ll be gone for at the time but it’s probably a few days at least. gonna work hard so i can hurry back to see you.

i hope you’re sleeping enough, but i know you’re not. you never do, especially when i’m not there to yell at you. i hope you’re eating enough too. but you’re probably also not doing that. you’re like taking care of a stubborn child, you know that? but this is supposed to be a love letter so i’ll try to refrain from scolding you too much. but do try to take care of yourself. ill see you soon.

megumi

#jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro fluff #silvers mutuals <3 #megumifushi

228 notes · View notes