#can i reach behind me at really odd angles and get things with either hand or even my foot? sure
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hyah-lian · 8 months ago
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General reminder to other scrunched up sitters like me. Please do try and sit with your legs out and stretch your hamstrings once in a while if you can.
Maybe now even if you are able and have time
Brought to you by the startling realization I couldn't sit up at a 90° angle again without my legs screaming
And a few nights of wondering what I did to get sore legs turns out I just hadn't stretched
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transenbyconfessions · 1 year ago
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Alright. So, I'm trans. Obviously.
And, as is the case for many people, my birth mother happens to be a piece of shit.
As in, you would not believe the kinds of things this woman has put me through while wearing a smile on her face. In hindsight, it is kind of a miracle I have yet to cut contact with her completely, which to be honest I probably should.
With the necessary context in mind, I assume it also wouldn't surprise you to hear my coming out did not went well. But it was either this or dying before I ever reached twenty, so here we are. Literal years down the line. Surviving each day here by virtue of being myself, my eroding force of will serving as a shield against all efforts made to the contrary by somebody who was supposedly meant to guard and protect me. Who has failed spectacularly at both to the point I am long used to doing that by myself.
The point being that — the above being the case — I have numerous times now been dragged into debating the merits pertaining to the right I hold to my own existence with somebody who, against all odds and my own better judgement, I do still care about kind of a lot. Or at least enough to be able to ignore the fact that it is definitely in my best interest to just never talk to her again. Cut my loses and run and simply pray I make it.
It is, understandably, really fucking awful to have to say to somebody — anybody — again and again why you are the gender that you say you are. To be made to prove, constantly without fail, that you deserve to be alive and defy what a stupid symbol in a stupid paper says that you are. To be made aware that certain people expect this of you, again and again, will never stop expecting that of you. To put it mildly: it's stressful like you wouldn't believe.
And yesterday, in the midst of a terrifying debate that I neither initiated nor wanted to have, while standing in the wrong kind of neighborhood to be overheard — well I believe I may have hit upon the way to explain exactly how that feels. Just about.
It starts a little like this:
Imagine you're trapped on a podium, always behind the red curtain. Waiting for the thin fabric to leave the stage open and let in the blinding light of the reflectors you can instinctively tell are on. And there is a kitten (a baby, a puppy…) sitting right there beside you in a bloody metal cage.
And if you stutter or hesitate, or the person on the other side arbitrarily gets to decide that you're wrong — then the cage will collapse in on itself, and the kitten will die.
No do-overs. No retry. You're just thrust out into the light, behind this mangled frail piece of wood with a too small cage that won't open why won't it open, and told you have to defend your side.
Or the kitten will die.
Can't anybody see it from this angle? Don't they hear it meowing? Do they just not care?!
And here you stand, spiraling, when you notice something strange. Not about the multitude, but about the fancy podium on the other side of the stage.
(Something other than the fact whoever's behind it has already started talking. Given the same person who threw you to the sharks up here has already handed them a script.)
There's a cage there too, shiny and clean and brand new. Visibly resting well above it instead of behind. Except this one is made of cardboard, its surface all covered in aluminum, and you can clearly see from here that the insides are empty.
They preach to the people in the multitude about the sanctity of this cardboard cage. Attack and accuse you of wanting to kill the kitten, placing it within its own prison in the first place, whenever you try to point out that it exists and it is there. Whenever they acknowledge it and deign to pretend to believe you. Even though they're standing up here too. They should have a clear view.
Thus comes your turn to talk. Except it has actually been your turn, from the moment this whole mess started. But now the other party seems to have run out of words to monopolize it with, and only you are left to fill the silence.
You glace down at the kitten. Tiny family member, fondly remembered, beloved pet that it is. And you care.
The crowd grows impatient. Your opponent's throat clears. This is important to you.
You breathe. And you open your mouth. And every sentence you say only adds fuel to the fire consuming the curtain.
Every sincere confession of confusion or pain mere evidence used against you. Any small hint of righteous fury that you can't disguise taken as an offense. Every impassioned defense taken as an attack.
They won't hear you. Won't accept anything that you say. No one will let you leave.
And even if you could, you would still leave alone.
(There are some, you are certain, who attended only to see the kitten crushed.)
In the midst of this immovable crowd are people you care about too. People you know. Calling you a liar and a killer and a fraud. Calling you worse, for every minute more you risk to stay.
But you cannot step down, because you care.
(Even if you were to win, there's still no guarantee they won't just collapse the cage in front of you anyway. Whether out of hatred and pettiness, mere cruelty, or something else. But if you do nothing the kitten will die, and you have to try, you have to try…!)
So you take a deep breath, and go on, and hope this once someone will listen.
…And that's how I felt.
Basically.
Anyway, I almost never post or submit anything. But I am making an exception for this one because I think it's something that needs to be said. It isn't mine anymore, make of it what you will.
Submitted May 30, 2023
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simping-invader · 9 months ago
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FANFIC PART 2 :3
Ok ok so before we jump in a few things bc.. I forgot about them dhdhdhdh
• so I did completely forget about zims disguise and I tried to kind of shoehorn it in so just go along with it 💀
● it makes my life easier if the pac can be removed for however long they want so that can happen
● I am making up organ names as I go..go with it dhdhdhdhh
Ok onto the pt2!
Too hot (pt..2)
Dibs pov:
I held the gate to the pool open for zim, smiling at him, even though all i got back is a sneer as he walked inside, I had a pretty good feeling he was happy to be here in some way. His antennae gave that away. I can't tell the exact emotion, but I know that when they're down like that and curled at the end, it's something good. If he was truly upset, they would be either straight down or pointing up and bending at a pretty sharp angle. Why does he continue to pretend like he hates me, I don't know.
"Is this 'pool' always so..full?" zim complains as I close the gate behind us "on hot days like this, yeah. It might be hard to find some chairs, so keep an eye out for any zim scoffs at me in return."I have yet to see the 'fun.' " I roll my eye at him, noticing 2 empty chairs." Ah! Come one before they get stolen. " i grab his 3 fingered hand, dragging him twords the chairs and ignoring his initial protests. When we reach the chairs, i put the towels down on them, effectively marking them as ours "God I can't wait to get out of this heat." I smile, reaching for the bottom of my shirt and taking it off, folding it up neatly before grabbing my sunblock.
Zims pov:
I find myself staring when Dib removes his shirt, slathering himself with that white cream, which looks similar to the goop he gave me..was I supposed to bring that?.. I can't really care right now, unable to pull my attention away from the human. I probably look like a fool...all because of this damn! Dib-stink!.
"You gonna take off your shirt and boots? Or do you like melting in the sun? " Dibs voice snaps me out of my trance, and I can feel my face heat up from being caught watching him."tch! The great zim doesn't want to expose himself to your inferior eyes. " I spit, my gaze darting away from him. "Zim, don't be weird. It's too hot for your stubborn antics," dib sighs.
I scoff again, hesitantly reaching for the end of my invader shirt and pulling it off, taking great care to fold it up so the logo is clear and proud on the front. Next, i slip off my boots. Luckily, most of the human worm things are too stupid to notice I am missing like two extra digits on both my hands and feet. Nor do they notice I forgot my wig. These weird worms probably believe my antennae are two weird strands if hair. "So what we just..stand in the water?? Doesn't sound very fun to me. " I cross my arms, glaring at Dib, who soon has an odd grin on his face."No, we do things like this!" Before I could even question him, I feel myself being lifted from the ground, and my pac suddenly disconnected. I open my mouth to yell at him, but before I can even try and squirm to get myself down, I'm suddenly hurling into the air, quickly falling down into the water.
Panic fills my mind as I realize I can't figure out how to get back to the surface, nor can I breathe in earth's 'water'. Suddenly, bubbles swish down all around me, and a hand grabs onto me, pulling me back up before my 'lungs' could give out. When my head finally breaches the surface, I gasp out, grasping onto whoever saved me. I'm met with laughter, from whom I realized to be Dib, who was supporting me. How the humans can stay above the surface I don't know. "How dare you laugh at zim!!" I yell, only getting more laughing in response
"I guess I should have made sure you know how to swim before throwing you in." I glare at him. If it wasn't for the fact he was the only thing keeping me above the water's surface, I would kill him . "Let's get you to where you can touch." Before I can question what he means by that, we are moving to the other side of the 'pool', having to dodge other Stinky! Humans and their worm babies. Eventually, I felt the floor against my feet, and when I was able to fully stand, I pushed Dib off of me.
I must admit..the pool is much cooler in the water. "You're lucky I don't harvest your organs for that, Dib stink," I huff, having to stop myself from staring...again. somehow, he looked even better wet. His stupid hair slicked back. The stupid sun reflecting off the stupid water on his stupid skin.. Everything about him just makes me feel all... mixed up and warm.. too warm.
"You're lucky I don't turn you in at the science museum, space boy." Dib says in that teasing tone that makes my squelch throb. "I still don't see how this is fun." I huff lowly "well..you kinda need to know how to swim, I guess." Dib laughs a bit."I didn't think about that part." I start to head tword the ladder, done with this 'pool'. I mainly just want to get away from Dib before I expose myself.. annoyingly, he follows me. "Hey zim, where are you going?" I huff at him."I'm done with your 'pool'. This isn't 'fun'" I reach for the ladder, but dib suddenly grabs my wrist "oh come on! It hasn't even been 2 minutes!" He suddenly pulls me away from the ladder and closer to him. I can feel my face heat up from that, my antennae flat against his chest. "I don't care! I want to leave. " I spit out quick, jerking myself away from him. Dib sighs and once again follows me to the ladder, this time allowing me to climb out, but for some reason, coming with me. "Fine, we can leave." I stop, "we?"
This is bad. I can't get away from him if he won't let me! "Yes we, the pool isn't as fun if it's just me. " he heads over to our chairs ,beginning to dry himself off and once again, making it impossible to be near him with almost drooling."Well..can't you just go home! Leave zim alone. " I snach my towel off the chair, drying myself off as well "because I'm bored. And you can't pretend you hate me, you're antennae are a dead giveaway." I freeze. What does he mean by that.. how does he know!? Does he know?! Did gir tell him! Oh, this was not good. Maybe I can play it off. "Tch, what to you know, you're just a stupid human!"
"Well.." Dib starts, walking closer to Me for some reason. Instead of backing away, I stay frozen. My eyes widen as he suddenly grabs one of my antennae. "Well, when you're actually annoyed, they stick up, and then they bend at almost a 90° angle. If you're sad I've noticed they're more droopy, but right now they're more..curved downwards. And I've noticed that's always a positive emotion..don't know the exact emotion, but I know you're not hating this as much as you claim." He give me that damn smile, and suddenly the sun isn't the only thing melting me. "You- you know nothing! You lie!" I yell. "Whatever you say zim... Anyway if you wanna leave here, then we're going to vibe at your place" he collects our things and begins to walk towards the gate without putting his shirt on.
I have to scramble to put on my boots, following behind him. "w- you're not going to put your shirt on???" Dib shrugs, walking out of the gate."Nah. It's too hot. " it's almost like he knows what he's doing to me. "Well- can I have mine??" Dib stops, looking at me with a smirk?? "Nah, it's fine, space boy. If people aren't looking at you for being green and clearly having antenna, I don't think they'll bat an eye to you being shirtless." What was that look for! Does he know?? All I can do is follow him back to my base and hope he's just...getting lucky.
-end of part 2 <3-
If anyone's wondering I end these when I get close to 1,500 words that's that's my sign to move on to the next part
Part 1 👇
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bingoboingobongo · 2 years ago
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omg the way you write adrian chase is AMAZING complex simplicity is such a beautifully written fic 😭 (you can ignore this if you want and get on with your day) but i was wondering if it's alright with you to write a fic with adrian chase and reader who's super badass (maybe a black widow¿)
alea iacta est
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Pairing: Adrian Chase (Peacemaker) x Reader
Type: Fluff
Summary: There's a new player in town, and Adrian wants to know more.
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: feminine pronouns used (she/her), mentions of violence, home invasion, knives
A/N: hiii, oh my actual lord i'm so sorry this took like over three months to write that is actually the most despicable thing of me to do i'm so sorry. idk if this is want you wanted but hopefully it's close. as always, likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated :)
Masterlist
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Given a choice, Evergreen wouldn’t be Adrian’s top pick for a city to defend. In terms of crime there wasn’t anything bigger than heroin shipments or the odd human trafficking ring, and even those were hard to come by. He had grown up there, of course, but his protection of it was less out of patriotism or loyalty or some desire to protect the people he had grown up with, and more because of the fact that moving was expensive and Chris wanted to stay. Besides, he and Chris were the only vigilantes around, which meant he didn’t have to worry about any turf battles or popularity contests. Of course, there was one occasion where another vigilante had popped up in Evergreen, although he was swiftly killed by a masked man wearing a turquoise and silver suit. Adrian had once considered moving to a bigger, more crime-ridden city like Gotham, but he didn’t really feel like ticking off Batman or having to deal with Harley Quinn.
He liked it in Evergreen, after all. He knew the city like the back of his hand, and with Chris in jail, he was the only guy strong enough to protect it. It was probably selfish, he knew, but it was a big boost to his ego to know that the only thing stopping the city from falling into squalor was him.
Which is why when word of another vigilante in town began to spread, Adrian began to get antsy. He had yet to run into them, which worried him considering he was beginning to spend most of his patrols trying to hunt whoever it was down, and while all the low-lives in town were warning each other of a new player on the streets, Adrian had nothing to substantiate their claims.
At least he did, that is until he was working the closing shift at Fennel Fields one night, and was just heading out to throw away the trash when he heard a scuffle past the dumpsters. Of course, he went to investigate, and to his surprise he saw the vague silhouette of a woman crouching over a body. The shadow turned its head to look at him, and Adrian could vaguely see the whites of a pair of eyes peeking over a mask stare at him for a split second before they swiveled around and bolted off.
Adrian tried to follow them, tossing the trash to the side and racing in the direction the masked culprit had run in, but somehow or another he had lost her in the dark of the night.
Adrian returned to the dumpsters, bending down to look at the body that had been left behind. He recognized it immediately. It was Joe Grioli, a frequent pain in Adrian’s neck due to his repeated harassment and sexual assault of women. Adrian had tried to kill him multiple times, but the slimeball somehow always got away, whether it was by volunteering himself into custody for a minor parole violation or simply weaseling his way out of the traps Adrian tried to set.
Adrian reached for Joe’s wrist, trying to feel for a pulse. There wasn’t one, and when Adrian felt around his neck to double check, his head lolled to the side, bent at an unnatural angle. His neck had been snapped, Adrian realized with a ripple of emotion. He couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement, but he knew that either way, this newcomer was going to be a bigger deal than he thought.
Adrian went home that night full of questions. The first, of course, being who was this new vigilante? And why were they snapping necks in the middle of the night? Adrian knew that his strict, no exceptions, style was certainly uncommon in the vigilante community — most people preferred to leave criminals with a few nasty bruises or ditch them in front of a police station — so seeing someone else be willing to cross that sacred line that made grown men cry filled Adrian with curiosity.
The second thing Adrian wanted to know was their end goal. Were they trying to get rid of all criminals like he was? Or were they just in town following some lead? Were they even on the same side as Adrian? His mind reeled with questions that he didn’t know the answer to, or where to even begin answering them. The best thing to do, he figured, was to try and find this new vigilante and get some explanations. The only problem was that he didn’t know where to look. 
That night, Adrian doubled down on his patrolling. The frustrating part was that he couldn’t get any tips as to where to find this mysterious neck-snapper, and for some reason there was an annoying lack of criminals he could interrogate that night.
He was just about to begin questioning a meth head he had spotted on the corner of a street about whether or not he had seen anything suspicious, when he heard a quiet whisper of air pass by him, flashing a streak of metallic glimmer that embedded itself in the wall just a few centimeters to the right of his ear.
“You missed,” he declared, trying to keep the giddiness out of his voice.
“I didn’t miss,” a voice spoke back. It was a woman’s voice, sultry and smooth, laced with an edge of danger. “That was a warning.”
“A warning for what?” Adrian asked, turning in the direction of the voice. He didn’t see anything, just inky darkness. 
“For you to stop looking for me,” she spoke again, her voice coming from a different direction. Adrian whipped around, trying to follow her.
“How did you know I was looking for you?” She didn’t answer. “You know,” Adrian continued, “it’s pretty rude of you to try and kill me and then not even do me the courtesy of answering questions. I mean, I don’t blame you if you’re scared, I’ve killed a lot of people, but they were all criminals, you know? I mean, I assume you do, considering the way you killed Joe earlier.” He began to shuffle around the area, kicking at empty soda cans, “By the way, neck-snapping? Pretty brutal, you gotta admit. But I respect that. You know, why don’t you come out here and we can have an actual conversation? I promise I won’t kill you immediately.”
He looked around again, wondering if she would have stalked out of the shadows by now. He approached the knife that had almost cost him an ear. The blade was a dusty gunmetal gray, with a streak of black surging down the middle on one side. He flipped it over and let out a whistle. “Alea iacta est,” he read, “that Latin? I gotta say, I have no idea what it means. I know I seem like the smartest guy in the world but I actually barely passed Latin in high school. I mean, I don’t even know why I took the class. I liked a lot of fantasy stuff as a kid so I just assumed Latin would be similar to that Game of Thrones language or something, what is it called? Klingon? I don’t even know. Do you want this back by the way?”
“Keep it,” she said, causing Adrian to whip around again, “I’ll get it back soon enough.”
That had been nearly a month ago. In fact, the three week mark of days since Adrian had last seen her was coming up. He knew it was bad that he was keeping track of the time so meticulously, but how could he not? He hadn’t even seen her face and he was hooked. He kept wondering when she would show up, and how. He had kept the knife, of course. Right now it was kept locked in a fake-bottomed bedside table he had made when he first moved into the apartment. He had looked up the words as soon as he had gotten home, and he had been right. It was Latin.
A sharp jab in his side brought Adrian back to the present. “Dude,” one of his coworkers said, “I asked you to refill my table’s water like five minutes ago. What are you doing?” 
Adrian blinked, staring blankly at the heavy water pitcher in his hand. “Uh, oh yeah, my bad,” he stuttered, “which table is it?”
His coworker rolled his eyes, jabbing his thumb at the table behind him. Undisturbed, Adrian followed the direction of the gesture over to the booth. There was only one customer there, a woman, who was typing away on her computer; a half-eaten bowl of pasta pomodoro pushed to the side.
“Can I fill that up for you?” he asked, pointing to her empty cup. She turned her head towards him, yet kept her eyes trained on the computer in front of her. She appeared to be writing something, maybe an essay or a report, and when she finished up her sentence she finally looked at him completely.
“What was that?” she asked, and Adrian felt a swell of familiarity rise through him.
“Your water,” he explained, pointing again at her cup, “want me to refill it?”
She paused, staring at him intensely as if she were scrutinizing him. “Sure,” she said finally, turning back to her computer.
She ended up staying at the restaurant up until closing, still nursing her pasta pomodoro and clacking away at her keyboard. He didn’t see her leave, just noticed the empty seat where she had sat, her dishes stacked neatly on top of each other and a decent tip folded up neatly and tucked under the napkin dispenser. 
He had spent the rest of his shift sparing not-so-subtle glances at her, trying to see more of her, and figure out what had drawn him to her. He hadn’t been successful though. After their initial interaction, she had adjusted her ponytail, letting the hair fall into her face and block her eyes. 
He ended up going home that night filled with confusion. The longer he thought about her, the more familiar she seemed. But familiar from where? He tried answering the questions that kept swirling around his head as he went through his post-work routine: eat dinner, shower, brush his teeth. He couldn’t place it at all. Of course his mind first went to the stranger he had met almost twenty-one days ago, but he wasn’t sure they sounded the same. Granted, his mind had been filled with fog since then; he heard a muddled cacophony of voices each day, but he assumed that when he heard her again it would’ve been like a veil being lifted.
But he didn’t feel that with the girl from his work. She could’ve always been disguising her voice, he figured; after all it was a tactic he had utilized multiple times, and he knew it wasn’t uncommon. But there was something more than that, he felt, something beyond a slight similarity in voices. There was something real there, but he just couldn’t place it.
He fell asleep that night trying to figure out what had been so off-putting about her, but his rest was cut short when he heard a slight rustle outside his window. Adrian had never been a heavy sleeper. It was a trait that had made his mom’s life hell but his vigilante one easier.
He sat up, staring into the darkness. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. Nothing except the rapid beating of his heart and his own shallow breaths. He reached under his pillow, groping around for the knife he kept there. Wrapping his hand around the handle, he leaned over to his bedside table. It was open.
He felt his blood go cold. Dread pooling at the base of his stomach. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was thought of her being in his home. Maybe it was the thought of him missing her. 
“Nice hiding spot,” he heard from the corner of his bedroom. He threw the knife. He couldn’t tell where it landed. “You know I don’t appreciate you trying to kill me, Adrian,” she said, drawing the syllables of his name out, “especially not after I complimented you so nicely.”
“How did you get in here?” Adrian asked, his voice coming out shakier than normal. He wasn’t used to being attacked in his own home. He wasn’t used to being left weaponless. He wasn’t used to this kind of power imbalance. He wasn’t used to people knowing who he was.
“You know, you should really be more careful driving home from work,” she said, her voice moving around the room. “You never know when someone might,” she paused, “follow you.”
Adrian cursed, “That was you?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t notice. Or that you didn’t recognize me at dinner.”
“How was I supposed to? It’s not like I saw your face.”
“Didn’t I tell you I would be visiting you soon?”
“You told me you would be getting your knife back soon,” he said, his jaw tight.
“And I did, didn't I?”
“What do you want from me?” Adrian asked, searching the dim room for her.
“Oh Adrian,” she said with a chuckle. It felt traitorous. Sweet, yet bitter. Soft, yet hard. Good, yet evil. “I already got what I want from you. Alea iacta est.”
Adrian swallowed, “The die has been cast.”
“I see you’ve done your research,” she said, and Adrian could hear the grin in her voice. “I’ll be seeing you soon enough.”
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sukirichi · 4 years ago
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“your hair is really soft” – jjk ver!
ft. itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, nanami kento, ryoumen sukuna, & inumaki toge
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ITADORI YUUJI – you’re in the room with Yuuji, who is busy watching the movies gojo-sensei had given him. He holds the cursed corpse in his other side, careful not to let him hit you, while your head lies on his shoulder, eyes drooping close from your long day. Yuuji turns the volume down and brings you closer to him until you’re practically sitting on his lap, his lips making brief contact at the crown of your head while he mumbles sweet nothings, too engrossed in the movie.
You smile at his sweet gesture, gently fisting the front of his jacket while you return the affection, kissing the edges of his jaw softly to not distract him too much. Yuuji’s lips tilt at the soft press of your lips on his warm skin. Soon, your hands rake up to his hair where your nails rake his scalp. Immediately, Yuuji deflates like a balloon as he purrs at the movement, making you chuckle in your sleepy daze.
“Your hair is really soft,” you note, and his eyes practically sparkle. Yuuji was a huge fan of hair gels and hair products, that his desk was filled with different brands all so he could keep his hair perfectly styled – in that somewhat natural, messy appeal. You love it on him and he melts at the fact you’ve noticed his efforts into taking care of himself. Most of all, the feeling of the smooth tendrils running past your fingertips like caressing a field of flowers lulls both you and him to a serene state.
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GOJO SATORU – Like Yuuji, Gojo takes his time in styling his hair. You brush your teeth beside Gojo, who scowls as he struggles to keep his hair up the way he likes before he puts on his blindfold. The lanky man groans and adds more product, flattening the strands of his hair between his palms before swooping it up. When it falls down, Gojo whines, leaning forward on the sink counter.
You chuckle to yourself; he could be so dramatic sometimes. Bumping your hip with his, you gesture at him to move, and the big baby pouts before placing his chin on your shoulder as he watches you gargle. “Babe,” he sniffles, arms wrapping around your middle before his nose nuzzles into your skin. You giggle and push him away; the little bastard knew you were ticklish there. “My hair won’t stick up the way I want it to. Now I don’t look so cool anymore. What would my students say? That Gojo-Sensei stopped being attractive?”
That earns him an eye roll and a playful smack to his shoulder. “Ow!” Gojo rubs his shoulder with another pout, although both of you know nothing ever really hurts the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. “You’re mean.”
“And you’re just fishing for compliments.”
When Gojo hides his smirk behind his palm, you know you’ve hit the nail right on the head. Gojo was probably the most self-assured and overconfident man you’ve ever met – the day he thought lowly of himself and worried about anything concerning him that would ruin his “image” would be the day pigs could fly. Nevertheless, you give in with a sigh, extending your palm towards him.
“Give me the gel. I’ll fix your hair for you.”
“You’re a lifesaver, babe!” Obediently, Gojo crouches down so you could reach his hair, but not before muttering “shorty” under his breath. You tug at his hair harshly than you intended as payback, and Gojo only lets out a loud, fake moan before doubling over.
Your laughter and his bubble and echo through the cramped room, but both of you don’t mind. It’s moments like these you cherish with your whole heart even though it’s not extremely sweet or anything over the top. Dating a jujutsu sorcerer, the strongest one at that, wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns. You worry for him all the time and stay up awake all night, only ever finding peace in your sleep when he comes home safely – which he always does.
Still, you don’t stop worrying for him. It’s only natural, after all, and the way Gojo’s eyes soften as you slightly massage his scalp and style his hair for him lets you know he loves small moments like this too when both of you are completely alone in your own worlds, just enjoying each other’s presence and not having to think about anything else.
“Your hair is really soft,” you muse, unaware of the way Gojo’s closed his eyes as he lets your hand do the magic. When the familiar scent of vanilla and flowers wafts into your senses, you lean down closer to him to sniff his hair, stopping in your movements. “That’s odd. You smell like shampoo, but I haven’t bought that scent in a week.”
“Well, I may or not be the one who emptied it the last time,” he sheepishly chuckles.
“Gojo! That shampoo was really expensive!”
“Yeah, but I wanted to smell like you,” he coos, gently peeling your arms off him so he could hug you. Because of the height difference, you face plant into his bare chest where his skin is still warm from the shower. You keep feigning your irritation, but really, you squish your cheek above his heart, and Gojo’s chest rumbles as he laughs – he knows you can’t resist him. “Sorry about it babe, let’s go grocery shopping tonight when I come home, yeah?”
“You better buy your own shampoo,” you grumble, but Gojo only laughs.
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  FUSHIGURO MEGUMI – Megumi is hunched over his desk, eyebrows pinched together while his hands move at an extreme speed. He’s studying while you scroll through memes on your phone, not wanting to disturb your boyfriend. Megumi is studious as ever, and it’s not that you aren’t, but you’re definitely a lot more relaxed than he is. 
You often tease him that you’ve got amazing memory by tapping your forehead whenever he tells you to study with him, which only makes him huff, but in reality, you refuse to study with him because he’s so distracting.
The way he bites his lip when he’s concentrated on something has your stomach erupting with butterflies, and it doesn’t help when his dark blue eyes pierce through the pages like the poor textbook committed a crime he couldn’t forgive.
All in all, Megumi’s beauty tripled tenfold when he was dedicated to something, and it was this fact that had you keeping your distance from him while he studies, because the last thing he needs is to have you jump him when he’s got an exam to prepare for. Unbeknownst to him, you’re angling your phone upwards until his beautiful side profile comes to view – and it’s so unfair his lashes are longer and thicker than yours – and you take a silent snap.
You take a few more pictures with a silent giggle, making sure to set it as your lock screen later. Nothing better than waking up to Megumi’s face every time your alarm went off, but your daydreaming is halted when Megumi drops his pen with a loud sigh.
“I know you’re taking pictures of me,” he side-eyes you with a glare. You squeak before hiding your phone behind you, knowing that it’s not out of the picture for Megumi to steal them and delete his precious photos. It didn’t help he knows your password either (duh, it’s his birthdate) so you take the extra mile by offering him a sickeningly sweet smile, an apology ready to leave your lips when – “If you wanted my attention that badly, you could’ve just said so. I don’t mind taking a break or something.”
Although he sounds annoyed, the way he avoids your gaze to hide his reddened cheeks and ears say otherwise. Megumi’s back faces you as you wait patiently on his bed. You don’t want to bother him – you really don’t – so you stay put, and Megumi sighs for the hundredth time that night before spinning on his chair, arms stretched out wide open. “Come. Want hugs.”
He keeps his gaze on his lap to swallow the embarrassment of using baby-like words, which was a huge contrast from his quiet and cold persona. You don’t mind though. Deep down, Megumi is like everyone else who wants constant affection, so you leap out of his bed and jump into his arms. Megumi relaxes with your weight on top of him before he squishes his cheeks against your boobs – one of his quirks that you found endearing – a sign that he just wanted to relax for a little while.
Megumi isn’t really that huge on touch, so moments like this where he allows himself to be physically intimate with you has you floating on cloud nine. You hear him sigh between you, and you hide your grin by pushing his hair back to reveal those pretty eyes of his, beckoning him to look you in the eye.
As expected, his cheeks flush a beet red at the intensity of your gaze, but what really catches your attention is how his eyes just brighten even though they’re lined with dark circles. 
This precious boy means everything to you, and you cup his face until your noses are rubbing. “Love you, Gumi,” you whisper, the boy’s breath hitching when your eyelashes flutter against his skin. Megumi tsks, a faux scowl on his face because both of you are painfully aware that he just melts around you.
“Stop teasing me. You know I don’t like that.”
“I’m not teasing you,” you lie, brushing his hair back in a soothing manner to help him relieve the headache he gets when he studies too much. “You know, your hair is really soft. Can I keep doing this?”
Megumi hates it when people touch his hair, so you expect him to say no – and you’ll gladly respect it – but instead, he pushes you closer and murmurs, “Don’t stop doing that.”
You smile so wide you fear your face would break.
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  NANAMI KENTO – You’ve always been fascinated with your co-worker. You don’t know what it is about the sharp-faced and stoic Nanami Kento that somehow makes him stand out from the rest. It’s not like he was smarter or better than anyone, although you do admit Nanami overworks most of the time.
It’s kind of pathetic you’ve been crushing on him ever since your first day of work. Maybe it’s because he worked with virtue and wishes to actually be honest instead of just sucking the money out of others. Maybe it’s because seeing him visit a bakery every after work makes him seem softer and a lot more human than his seemingly unapproachable nature. Whatever it was, you can’t explain why you’re so enamoured with the blond, or why you have the audacity to suddenly card your fingers through his hair at his desk that time.
You were told by your boss to give him this folder – quick, easy, and simple. But Nanami has this effect on you that he makes your brain go brr every time you go closer to him. You blame it on the fact both of you are alone at the office right now for OT, but when Nanami freezes under your touch, you realize the grave consequences of your actions.
As if you’ve touched something boiling hot – and he kind of is – you retract your arm and bow so deep you feel a vertebrae popping air. “I’m so sorry!” you begin to blabber, bowing repeatedly to the point your hair has become a mess. You can’t even look him in the eye – what were you thinking?! “I didn’t mean to, it’s just your hair looked really nice and soft and I couldn’t help myself! If you want to tell the higher-ups about this harassment and get me fired, I promise I won’t mind. In fact, I’ll take this to my grave and even offer my firstborn child as an apology—”
“Y/N.”
“because I’ve done something so horrendous and oh my gosh, I was just eating donuts and I probably got crumbs in your pretty hair—”
“Y/N,”
“And that’s really so low of me. Uh, actually, I may or may not have spent last month’s salary to buy my niece a huge ass dollhouse, but I’d gladly schedule a hair appointment for you—” you stop your words when you feel huge, calloused hands squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered out like a fish. Nanami stands before you, looking as handsome as ever, and that thought only has you panicking more and withdrawing. “I’m so sorry.”
Nanami sighs, pulling away to give you some space. You try to fight back the whine because not only did you look ridiculous under him, but also because you actually missed his touch.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” he takes the folder from you, pauses, then tilts his head to the side. “You think my hair is soft?”
“Uhm,” you blink rapidly, “Y-yes. Your hair is really pretty too. In fact, everything about you is pretty, like your hands when you type in paperwork but – I’m talking too much aren’t I?” you laugh nervously, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” Nanami doesn’t sound like he believes it.
“Yeah,” you confess, switching your weight from one foot to another. At this point, you’ve given up on asking him out for coffee this weekend because you’re sure he’s labelled you as an idiot now. Not that it’s surprising though; not only does Nanami keep to himself out of social aversion, but you’re also pretty loud and awkward, a huge contrast to someone as well-put as him. “Anyways, uh,” you clear your throat, gesturing to your cubicle. “Now that you’ve got the file, I’m gonna go do my part. See you later, I guess. Or not. You can go home first you want. I’ve got quite a lot on my plate.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
“Sorry?”
Nanami organizes his desk one last time before following you to your desk. “I’m done with my part and it’s late. It’s not safe for you to walk home alone,” he glances at his watch, “I’ll wait for you until you’re done and walk you back home. That way, I don’t have to worry about your safety tonight,” he plops down on the empty seat next to yours, crossing his arms on his broad chest. “Take all the time you need. Just wake me up when you’re done.”
Just like that, Nanami dozes off, exhausted from a long day of hard work. You, on the other hand, are more energized than ever as you suddenly find a strong wave of motivation you’ve never had before.
Maybe you don’t mess up everything, after all.
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  RYOUMEN SUKUNA – He groans when you giggle at him, using your small, dainty hands to brush it through his hair. Sukuna liked to sleep in and it was only seven in the morning, meaning he’s supposed to be still lost in dreamland with thoughts about you and your cute little face. But because you’re an annoying brat who’s an early bird and way too cheerful as a morning person, you’re wide awake when the sun shone through the windows, and you’re gently coaxing him awake by rotating your fingers through his hair.
“Your hair is really soft.”
“Stop that,” he complains, but doesn’t really do anything to push you away. “It’s too early. Go back to bed.”
“But I’m already awake,” you tease, proving your point by taking off his covers and patting his chest. “Come on, let me make you breakfast. Maybe we can go out today and go see a movie, what do you think? It’s my day off so we better make use of it!”
“Exactly, it’s a day off,” he growls the last part, surprising you when his strong hands grip your thigh and drag you beside him. Soon enough, Sukuna has you trapped in his muscular arms until you can’t move anymore. “Let’s just stay the whole day in bed. Plus, I’m the one making breakfast. There’s no way you’re still cooking for me on your day off.”
“But I love cooking for you.”
“I know, but it’s my turn now,” he huffs through your hair. Sukuna’s grip loosens around you a bit to give you room to breathe, but he’s taken aback when you only snuggle closer to him to the point your legs and tangled and your body is warm from his heat. You don’t have to say it out loud to tell him you’ve conceded to his wishes.
As always, Sukuna is right. It feels much better to just let go of time and enjoy this moment. And he smells so good, feels so warm, that you’re unable to stop yourself from burrowing closer onto his body until you’re sure you’re about to start smelling like him later.
Of course, Sukuna likes the thought of that, so he sweeps one arm behind to tug the covers back over your bodies. He kisses your temple, and with a low, husky voice, grumbles, “Let’s go back to sleep, then we’ll do everything you want later, okay? I just want to stay in bed with you a little longer.”
For a guy who was considered heartless and barbaric, he sure turned into putty in your hands.
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  INUMAKI TOGE – The platinum haired boy lays on your lap, the wire of headphones dangling beside you both. You’re thankful Inumaki has his eyes closed, because the last thing you want him to see is how embarrassed and giddy you are at that moment.
You and Inumaki have been friends for years, meaning you’ve been hiding your crush on him for a painfully long time. He’s recently made a Spotify playlist with an innocent text of, “I made you a playlist of all the songs that reminds me of you,” which leads you both to your current predicament. It’s a rather lazy weekend and Gojo-sensei isn’t around to bother any of you, so you’re in Inumaki’s room, careful not to bounce your legs out of habit to not give the poor boy a headache.
You snap back to life when Inumaki squeezes your thigh, and you’re met with azure eyes looking back up at you. “Mustard leaf?” he points to your face, which has been previously constricted and heated from his close proximity. It isn’t the first time you and Toge have cuddled, but it’s been too long and you’re standing at the edge of a dangerous cliff with the desire to tell him you like him.
Inumaki must’ve thought you’re uncomfortable with his weight on you because he begins to sit up. “Oh, no, no!” you coax him back down despite his questioning eyes, a wide grin replacing your flustered state to conceal it. “Its’s fine, really. I was just vibing with the songs.”
He hums, not completely believing it, but he doesn’t want to push either. Soon, he settles into your lap again and makes you lose your mind when his breath starts to tickle your kneepads now that he’s facing behind you.
Your heart just about combusts, and before you know it, Inumaki has fallen asleep while the theme of Howl’s Moving Castle plays. Once his breathing regulated into a steady rhythm, you reach out to brush his hair back and lightly add some pressure for better sleep. You know Inumaki lies that, and you smile to yourself when he leans into your touch even in his slumber.
“Your hair is so soft,” you say mostly to yourself, leaning down to kiss his the crown of his head, making Inumaki sigh contentedly. Gosh, you love him so much.
Now isn’t the time but...hopefully, one day you could tell him how you feel. Even if he rejects you, you hope you could still be friends even after that awkward encounter –
You freeze as the next song comes on. I.F.L.Y by Bazzi comes on, and just as you cover your mouth to silence your gasps, you hear the faintest snickers coming from Inumaki before he goes back to “snoring.”
“Toge! Were you awake the whole time?!”
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iyumeu · 3 years ago
Text
i can be your angle or yuor demon
summary: [takes place right after the angelic demons event] in front of you stands an angel and a demon. which would you choose?
characters featured: lucifer, mammon, leviathan (aka older brother trio)
⭒☆━━━━━━━━✿ᏊㅇꈊㅇᏊ✿━━━━━━━━☆⭒
It had been a few days since the party that had taken place in the celestial realm. Your demonic housemates were now back to their normal, devilish selves but you notice that they seemed a little... odd. Subdued, even.
Today was no different; the brothers had been quiet during dinner, either picking at their food or simply straight up not attending dinner. You had gone to bed feeling off-kilter and worried. That was it, you decided, it was time to stage an intervention. You were going to confront your demonic housemates tomorrow and they weren't going to be able to do anything about it!
With determination in your heart, you closed your eyes... and then immediately found yourself in a strange white room with...
Lucifer
After the party
> He had immediately thrown himself back into a mountain of paperwork.
> You knew that Lucifer was the embodiment of overworking but even this was too much. He hadn't been present for dinner since all of you had returned to the Devildom and if it weren't for the incredibly rare times you caught him out in the hallway, you would have come to the conclusion that he simply decided to start living in his study room
> Alas, even when he was outside he was short-tempered, snapping at anyone who was around him and was generally just a little more forceful than usual.
> There was a moment where you brushed past him in the hallway and he had grabbed your wrist, tugging you towards him. You had jumped and whirled around, startled at the sudden action, and you weren't quite sure what your expression had been like but you knew that it prompted Lucifer to immediately let go of your wrist as if he had been burnt. He then retreated back into his office, slamming the door shut without even saying a word to you.
> He had kept his distance after that and the two of you hadn't spoken to each other since.
In the white space
Two Lucifers stood before you, one clad in his angelic costume while the other wearing his demonic form.
> They seemed to be talking to one another, the Lucifer you were familiar with getting more and more agitated by the second while the Lucifer dressed in angelic garb was crossing his arms, looking at the demonic Lucifer with a placid expression on his face.
> When you step closer to them, they turn to look at you in tandem.
> "MC."
> It's strange how your name can be spoken in such different ways. Lucifer spoke your name in his usual commanding tone while the angel said it with such gentleness and cheer it gave you goosebumps.
> "Luci... fer?"
> "Yes?"
> The both of them answered together once again. It was seriously freaking you out. Were they both really Lucifer? Or was one of them a clone?
> You quickly made your way closer to them.
> Once you were closer you could see that Lucifer looked tenser than usual.
> "Where are we?" You couldn't help but glance at angel Lucifer too when you asked that question. From the corner of your eye, you see Lucifer's hand clench into a fist.
> "It doesn't matter where we are," Lucifer replied brusquely. You hadn't seen him this upset before, not even when he tried to kill you for harboring Luke in the House of Lamentation.
> "Is this how he talks to you all the time?" Instead of answering you, angel Lucifer asked you another question. It was a question that confused you. What did that have to do with anything?
> "Um... not really? He's just a little bit frustrated," you reply, eyeing the angel Lucifer warily. Something about him made you feel... something. It was a negative something. You didn't like him one bit.
> "I see." Angel Lucifer reaches out towards you. Before you can flinch back, Lucifer's hand was already painfully gripping your shoulder, tugging you to his side in an almost violent manner.
> "You are not to touch them," he said. Angel Lucifer's gaze slowly slid from you to him and you were able to see it frost over in real time.
> "Neither are you," he said, "if you're going to be so forceful. Look at them, they're hurt."
> Lucifer turned to look at you. You were frozen in the middle of rubbing at your shoulder and his eyes darkened.
> He stepped away from you.
> "You believe that everyone around you will bend to your whim," the angel said. "And if you don't, you force them to. You carry out your actions uncaring about the way it affects others and how they may think... Tell me," the angel was looking at you now, "how does it feel to live with someone so full of themselves?"
> Beside you, you can tell that Lucifer has stopped breathing. His red gaze was boring a hole through you, his wings twitching as he fought the urge to block your view of his angelic doppelganger.
> You lick your lips, gathering your thoughts. The angel too your silence as agreement and a smile spread across his face.
> "Don't you see, demon? They're afraid of you. Your overbearing, domineering treatment of them has rendered them too afraid to dare speak up in your presence."
> Lucifer flinched at the angel's words. You suddenly had a very vivid fantasy of pouncing forward and violently ripping handfuls of feathers out of the angel's wings.
> "They'll be much happier with me, don't you think?" the angel asked. You glanced at Lucifer and was absolutely shocked to see him considering the angel's words.
> "No!" The word was out of your mouth before you could even think.
> The angel raised an eyebrow. "No?"
> "No." You dug in your heels, glaring at this... oversized avian who dared to don the face of your beloved demon. Who dared to make him doubt himself like that. "No, I'm not scared of him. No, I do dare to speak up. No, I absolutely would not be happier with you!"
> You turned to Lucifer, not wanting to look at that... thing for even a second longer. He was staring at you, a rare look of surprise on his face. You stepped towards him, poking a finger at his chest.
> "You!" you started, "You may be absolutely full of yourself, but you do care! You care for Diavolo! You're always taking care of him even when it comes at the cost of your own health! You care for your brothers! You protected them when all of you first entered the Devildom and you protect them even now, even if you try to hide it. You care for me! You give me food when you notice I've been staying up late to study and you constantly ensure that my time at R.A.D. is safe and enjoyable! Do you think I don't notice this? Do you think no one notices this? Why are you believing that thing's lies?!"
> With every jab of your finger, Lucifer's eyes grow wider.
> "And you!" You whirled around to glare at the angel. "You're sitting there running your mouth when you're the one who's acting so full of yourself! I'm sick of your holier than thou attitude! Lucifer is caring, he is thoughtful, and he is so much more than what you accuse him of!” You pause for a moment to take a breath. The angel is examining you like you were a particularly interesting specimen slotted under a microscope. You’ve reached your limit. It was time to resort to violence.
> You were stopped before your feet left the ground by a pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders. It was soon followed by a curtain of dark feathers, blocking the angel from your sight, and you from his.
> “That’s enough,” Lucifer said. His voice was filled with the same confidence and pride that you know and love. “That thing is not worth your time.” A pause and then, softly, almost inaudibly, “Thank you.”
> And then,
> You wake up.
After the dream
> You were happy to see that Lucifer was no longer locking himself up his office again.
> He was also, strangely, a little more affectionate to you?
> He was also around a lot more often; not hovering per se, but just... there. A comforting presence, him by your side.
> His texts to you are more often now too.
> You start receiving gifts from him, packaged and pretty hanging on your doorknob, charmed with a powerful spell that curses everyone but you if they touch it. He still pretends he doesn't send them but you know and he knows you know.
> One day, over a dinner at the Ristorante Six, he'll finally tell you, in words, that he wants you to stay by his side; but until then, you enjoy his non-verbal affirmations of love.
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━[ᓀ˵◇˵ᓂ]━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
Mammon
After the party
> He became a shut in on par with Leviathan.
> However you notice that he has a lot of akuzon deliveries brought to his door, definitely more than what he could afford.
> When you try to talk to him he only shouts at you from behind his door. When you try to enter, you almost get squashed by the amount of piled up akuzon boxes and haphazardly piled up items.
> You knew Mammon was inside but you couldn't see him at all. You'd genuinely think that he got suffocated under the mess of his purchases if he hadn't been talking to you through the mess.
> But he still refused to come out to see you and you didn't know how to navigate his room, so you decided to leave him be for now.
In the white space
> There were two Mammons in front of you, one dressed in his angelic costume and the other in his demonic form. They seemed to be discussing something but you paid them no mind.
> Mammon had been your reliable protector since the start of your time in the Devildom and hence you had grown to associate safety with his presence.
> That was why you literally all but teleported to his side when you caught sight of him.
> However, the words coming out of the angel made you freeze in your tracks.
> "Shameless, greedy scum," the angel said. Mammon's body language finally registered in your head. Slightly hunched over, head turned to a side, wings curling in on himself, fists clenched and shaking... You hadn't seen him this bad before.
> "You know that they're too good for you, but you can't let them go. You'd rather chain them to you forever rather than allow them happiness. Your greed truly knows no bounds, even for someone you lo—"
> You skitter to a stop between the two. It was unnerving how much he looked like Mammon. Apart from the attire, the only difference you could tell was his eyes; Mammon's eyes were open and expressive while the angel's eyes did not give away his emotions at all. Controlled, you would call them.
> "MC," the angel greeted you with a smile.
> "MC, what're you doing here?!" In contrast to the angel, Mammon seemed aghast to see you here.
> "You want their attention and affection but you are reluctant to give yours," the angel said. "Greedy, greedy, greedy. The Avatar of Greed, do you really think you're worthy enough to stand by their side?"
> Oh, the angel was talking about you.
> Well if you weren't already angry before, you were now.
> You turn to look at Mammon only to see him shaking slightly. He refused to meet your eyes.
> "You actually hate it, don't you?" the angel said. The angel was looking at you now. "How unreliable he is. How selfish he is, always putting his own desires and needs above others. A nightmare to live with, much less be with."
> With every word out of the angel's mouth, you see Mammon flinch. You reach out to soothe him but he flinches away from you. He looked like he regretted it the moment he did it, but he had no chance to apologize before the stupid angel was opening their mouth to yap on.
> "How can anyone love something like him, much less you?" the angel asked and. Boy.
> You whirled around and threw a punch at the angel's face. It barely injured the angel and left you with a hurting fist, but the shock on the angel's face was worth it.
> "I love him," you declared loudly. "And so do his brothers."
> Mammon was staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.
> "And the things you've said? Utter horseshit. Mammon is one of most selfless demons I know." No one as powerful as him would allow himself to be a punching bag for his entire family without retaliation, no one but him. Mammon was the demon with the highest control, with the softest heart, and it showed with the interactions he had with his brothers... and you.
> He rarely said anything affectionate towards you, and the times he did were often rushed and unintelligible, but he didn't have to. Not when his love and affection shone through with every action he made.
> He was always giving love, only rarely ever receiving, And he never complained about it.
> And so hearing this angel spout such bullshit about Mammon, and Mammon believing it, really made you experience something.
> That something was an attempt to beat up the angel in front of you.
> You were quickly pulled off the angel, Mammon holding you tightly and firmly in his arms and you tried to continue with your punches and kicks.
> "That's enough." It was a rare occasion that his voice was so serious and it immediately calmed you down. Mammon shifted you to a more comfortable hold but did not let you go. "Ya ain't gonna hurt me with those dumb words," he told the angel, puffing out his chest. "I'm the great Mammon! I ain't gonna listen to your bullshit!"
> Warmth blossomed in your heart as you hear Mammon regain his confidence.
> "And MC is mine! No one's worthy of them but that doesn't mean I won't—"
> You wake up.
After the dream
> Mammon finally exited his room and the first person he went to was you.
> He swooped you up in a big hug, abruptly waking you from your slumber.
> He started becoming more honest and less shy as well, no longer putting on airs. His affection for you was as clear as day. It's a work in progress but Mammon is still able to convey his affection even if he ends up screaming it with a red face.
> You notice that he's been taking up more responsibility lately, even getting a steady part time job. He uses the money to take you out on nice dates and buy you nice gifts.
> Also has become even clingier, but it's not like you're going to complain. ⭒☆━━━━━━━━━⸜₍๑•⌔•๑ ₎⸝━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
Leviathan
After the party
> Leviathan had been making some headway in getting more comfortable in his own skin, cutting down on insults to himself. This party set him back a thousand years.
> Every word out of his mouth was self-derogatory and full of hate.
> He refused to answer your texts.
> He never left his room, even for mealtimes.
> In fact he didn't eat at all? Which was concerning. You even tried to bribe him with Ruri-chan, but all it resulted was a crash and a faint sob.
> It was after that that you decided to leave him be for a while.
In the white space
> There was nothing in the white space except a pond and Leviathan in his angel costume.
> Recalling Leviathan's reaction to you before, you carefully approached him and called out his name. To your surprise, he turned to look at you with a smile on his face.
> You were delighted at first but the delight quickly drained away when you recognized the bright but bland smile on his face, along with his calm, placid eyes.
> It was the Leviathan from the party looking at you now, not the Leviathan you were missing.
> "MC!" he said cheerily. "I'm so glad you're here!"
> "...hello." He didn't seem to noticed that you were being subdued, quickly stepping forward to grab your hands. You tried to suppress your flinch, fearing that Leviathan was actually in there somewhere. You scanned his body for the brainwash bangle but did not find it. Worry started to gnaw at your heart. How were you going to break this curse if you couldn't find its anchor?
> "I missed you," angel Leviathan continued. "Sorry for avoiding you, I was just throwing a temper tantrum. I won't be doing that again. As I've said before, I'll be giving up on anime, manga, and the like to forge closer connections with my brothers... and of course with you."
> You step back. The angel follows.
> "I was weak before, a no-good shut-in loser who'd rather lose himself in the 2D world rather than face reality." Unlike before, the words were spoken without an ounce of shame or even emotion. It was like angel Leviathan was stating facts rather than belittling himself. Somehow, that bothered you more.
> "You're not weak," you spoke. "You're not any of those at all. You've been putting in a lot of effort lately, and besides being interested in anime isn't a weakness. You're passionate about what you like and unafraid of showing it. Isn't that a strength?"
> Angel Leviathan shrugged, brushing your words aside. It was incredibly uncharacteristic of him.
> "I suppose," he said. "Either way, don't you prefer me like this? Outspoken, confident, unafraid? I can tell you how I feel. I love you, MC. Don't you love me?"
> There was something wrong. A nagging feeling in your heart had been present ever since you entered this strange place and right now it merely grew stronger.
> "Not like this," you said, pulling your hand away from his. "There's something wrong with you right now, Levi, you're not in your right mind."
> "I'm in my right mind. In fact, I can safely say that I've never been better. Say you love me, MC."
> Leviathan would never push you like this. He had always respected your boundaries, knowing how unpleasant it was like to have his own constantly prodded and pushed.
> "You're not Levi," you realized. Immediately you looked around, quickly moving away from angel Leviathan. "Where is he? What have you done to him?"
> Angel Leviathan looked so confused for a moment that you almost believed him. But then his expression turned to derision and your blood ran cold.
> "Why do you care about that disgusting otaku anyway? Aren't I better? Why don't you choose me?"
> The angel must have been out of his fucking mind if he thought that you were going to choose him after all this.
> You took another step back and—
> You plunge into the lake, the breath knocked out of you by the impact. Just as you started to panic, your eyes catch sight of something that made you freeze.
> There was Leviathan, the Leviathan you knew and loved, in his demon form staring back at you with wide eyes.
> What the fuck.
> Had he been here the entire time?!
> Instead of you, now Leviathan was the one panicking. He grabbed you and swam quickly to the surface, bringing you out of the lake. You gasped for air once you breached the surface, Leviathan's arm supporting you and keeping you upright.
> "Levi!" you said once you caught your breath. "Where were you? Why didn't you come up?"
> Leviathan was not looking at you. Once he had placed you back onto the shore, he suck back down into the water until only his eyes and the top of his head were visible. You put the pieces together.
> "...were you hiding?"
> "Of course that coward was hiding." Oh god. The angel was still not done. Now that you knew for a fact that he wasn't Leviathan, you felt an incandescent rage start boiling within you. You tamp it down. For now. "He didn't want to face the idea that you might choose me over him."
> Choosing again. It seemed important.
> "It's okay if you choose him instead," Leviathan was clearly lying through his teeth. "If... If it makes you happy. Who would want to be with a loser otaku like me who can't even tell the person he loves that he wants to hold their hand? Much less that he loves them?"
> Your heart was breaking and you pushed yourself into the water again. Leviathan yelped in surprise and quickly swam forward to catch you. You took the opportunity to put your hands on either side of his face.
> "Levi, there's no way I'd choose anyone over you," you told him. "You are my Lord of the Shadows and no one else can take your place."
> You feel Leviathan's cheeks heat up under your palms.
> "Do you mean it?" It was said in a whisper but you managed to catch it. You nod and a brilliant smile spread across his face.
> He looked up at the angel and maneuvered you around so that he was in between you and the angel. His tail had found its way to you and it was now curling around you in a possessive manner you had long grown familiar with.
> "MC is m... MC is my Henry! Not yours!" Leviathan declared. His tail squeezed a little tighter but you still felt no discomfort. "And I am their Lord of the Shadows. I'll protect them, so there's no way you'll ever get your hands on them!"
> You tried to cheer Leviathan on but then,
> You wake up.
After the dream
> Leviathan sent you a message to meet him in his room and you went there immediately. There, he apologized for ignoring you, saying that he hadn't been feeling well but was better now.
> The tip of his tail was subconsciously curled around your ankle but you didn't point it out to him, not wanting him to be self-conscious.
> After that you notice that Leviathan was a lot more open with his words. He still stuttered and turned red, but he was trying. Even if he ended up running away afterwards sometimes.
> Soon, he even grew brave enough to ask you to h*ld his h*nd! Once the first barrier had been breached, however, the two of you started holding hands all the time.
> If his hands were busy with gaming, expect his tail to seek you out.
> One day, he'll muster up the courage to tell you how he feels. But until then, you're happy to wait. ⭒☆━━━━━━~>º˵)ニニニニ>━━━━━━☆⭒
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okaywa · 4 years ago
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*Kiss Me Sweetly
Tendou x f!reader 
Angst with a happy ending, excessive fluff, friends to lovers, smut, dry humping 
4.4k words
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The demon of Shiratorizawa had crimson hair and eyes to match. He was tall, composed of long limbs and sharp angles. His eyes were perpetually half-lidded and droopy with dark bags. He had a crooked smile made up of pointed teeth and a silver tongue that frequently got him in trouble with the school staff and students alike. 
He wasn’t actually a demon, a nickname branded to him by cruel children in elementary school. He wasn’t a monster either, despite popular belief. Although he had learned to embraced his title as the Guess Monster, even learned to love the respect that came with it from his opponents. In the end, however, Tendou Satori was just tired. Tired of the people at this school, tired of the nicknames that stalked him though the halls, and tired of you.
You, who never stooped to your peers level with half-brained insults and nicknames. You, who had smiled and said hello every time you saw him since elementary. You, who encouraged him to pursue volleyball, the only thing he felt powerful doing. You, who sat through his seemingly endless chatter with an interested smile. You, you, you and your kind smiles, soft words, and gentle curves. 
It wasn’t until high school that you started sitting with him at lunch. Eventually lunch transitioned into getting coffee every Monday after school. Then the coffee hangouts progressed to going to your house and reading the latest manga he was interested in every Friday. 
Each moment with you was a breath held in anticipation for the other shoe to finally drop. When were you just going to get it all over with and stop acting like you cared about him? Enough of the pity, please. No more shared lunches. Stop giving him your notes when he fell asleep in class. He was exhausted for you. 
Sometimes he let himself believe you. That you actually cared for him and enjoyed being around him. He convinced himself that your laughter was genuine when he teased you and made sardonic jokes about the world. He could go months relishing in your friendship before remembering it wasn’t real. 
Being around him certainly didn’t benefit you. He had heard plenty of the rumors and he know you did as well. 
I heard that he’s so controlling she’s too scared to actually leave him. 
We aren’t even together, he thought viciously.
Well, I heard that she only puts up with him because she feels bad. Seriously, who actually wants to hang around that freak . 
He wanted to scream that he knew. He knew you pitied him. He wanted you to leave but you never got the goddamn hint. You stuck by his side all through high school and now it was the last day and you were still here. Sitting next to him, sharing his earbuds. You could’ve walked home ages ago, but you were adamant about waiting at the train station until he got picked up.
“You can stop now,” he said, setting you free. 
“Hm?” You looked up from your phone. “Oh, do you want to play your music?”
“No, you can leave,” he snapped. “No one is looking at you anymore; no one cares. You don’t have to be here with me.”
“Tendu-chan, I don’t understand,” your pretty lips were turned down in a frown. 
“I don’t need you,” he lied. “You don’t have to be here to make me feel better. It’s over, we move on now and we forget about it.” 
“What are you talking about?” Your voice was soft, confused. 
“I don’t need your pity,” he said, finally getting the words off his chest after all these years. “I know you only stuck around because you felt bad for me. But I don’t need it anymore, high school is over. I don’t need you to hang out with me because you feel bad.”
His eyes were closed, and he relished in the peace of finally, finally spitting it out. 
“Is that what you think?” 
His eyes snapped open. You were angry? You should be happy. Happy you finally have an excuse to get away. A clear exit.
“Fuck you, Tendou,” you stood up, throwing his headphones at his chest. “That’s what you really think of me? That I just pity you? You think I’m so shallow that I hung around you to make myself feel better? Is that what you think?”
You stopped, sucking in a steadying breath while he stared up at you in shock. Yes, that’s exactly what he had thought. 
“I-” 
“No,” you cut him off swiftly. “You’ve said enough. I’m leaving. You can talk to me when you get your head out of your ass.” 
Tendou watched you walk away until you disappeared around a corner. He had been wrong? But he almost always guessed right… right?
Had he really been so consumed by his self-loathing that he had misread the intentions of the one person who cared the most for him? 
“Oh,” he let his head fall back against the bench and stared at the bright sky until his eyes watered. 
Not many had witnessed it, but the demon of Shiratorizawa was indeed just a person. A person with emotions, as disguised as they may be. He hid behind this personality he’d crafted. The carefree, loud, perpetually cheerful demeanor that protected him from his peers and their wicked words. It had never protected him from you though. You saw through it as if it were glass, just a window to his misery. 
“Oh,” he said again, standing up slowly. “I see now.” 
He boarded the train and rested his forehead against the window, watching dark storm clouds creep over the city with the silence of a cat stalking its prey. 
How fitting, for it to rain, he thought as the first drops splattered against the window. 
—-
After three sharp knocks on your door, Tendou stepped back and held his peace offering close to his chest. He knew you were home because your rust bucket of a Toyota was parked in the driveway. His fingers tapped the plastic bag impatiently and it was nearly impossible to ignore the way his heart jumped when the door cracked open slowly.
“Ah, I see you’ve managed to pull your head free. Was it difficult?” You asked flatly, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.
“Immensely, took Wakatoshi three bottles of lube,” he said earnestly. 
You cracked a small smile, eyes flitting to the plastic bag in his arms. You raised an eyebrow as a silent question. 
“Can I come in?” He asked. “It’s awfully cold out here, you don’t want me to catch a cold now, eh Y/n-chan?”
“Maybe I do,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. 
“How cruel of you!” Tendou gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in feigned offense. 
He stepped into your entrance way and you were quickly reminded just how tall he was. His lankiness only made him look taller as he loomed over you, eyebrows drawn together in determination. You stared back, suddenly nervous in the presence of your friend.
“I’m sorry for misjudging you,” he said, intense red eyes still locked on yours. “It was wrong and unfair of me to make such harsh assumptions.” 
You weren’t used to him being this serious. He was always intense but the two combined were overwhelming. 
“Let’s sit down and eat whatever you’ve brought,” you said, stepping around him to walk to the kitchen. “Then we can talk, yeah?”
He followed so close he accidentally kicked your heels a few times and you could still feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your neck. He set the bag on the table and unpacked the to-go containers. 
“It’s from that place you really like,” he said. “By the school.”
“Oh, thank you, Tendou.” You accepted the chopsticks he held out. 
Tendou gasped dramatically. “Such formalities, Y/n-chan!”
“Tendu-chan, then,” you corrected yourself.
“Much better,” he said praisingly.
He sat down across from you, eating only a few pieces of chicken before setting his utensils aside. He didn’t say anything, even as you ate your fill. It was clear he was antsy, fingers tapping a staccato beat against the table. 
When you finally slid your plate to the side he scooted forward, resting his face in his palms expectantly. 
“I forgive you,” you said simply. 
Tendou’s signature manic grin took over his entire face and his long fingers tapped a rapid beat on the table in his excitement. Oh, how he had missed you during the two weeks he spent giving you space. He had never realized how much he enjoyed your presence until it abruptly disappeared. Tendou’d also had a few other revelations during the separation.
He said your name softly, so at odds with his typically loud demeanor. He was his most authentic self in your presence, he had come to realize. You looked up from packing up the remaining food and tilted your head. 
“We are still friends, right?” He asked with a tinge of nervousness. 
“Were we ever?” You countered, not angrily. 
“Yes,” Tendou answered quickly, reaching out to grab your hand. “Of course, it was my mistake to ever think otherwise.”
You looked down at his hand on yours and ran a finger over the wrappings he kept on his two fingers. He watched you keenly, fingers twitching at your delicate touch. 
“My, my,” he said with a sly grin. “What is little Y/n thinking about?”
You shot him a bland look, dropping his hand pointedly. “You’re disgusting.”
Just like that any tension between the two of you vanished with his boisterous laugh. He wiggled his wrapped fingers in your face enticingly until you smacked them away.
“I brought the latest chapter Shonen Jump,” he said animatedly, reaching into his bag. “I thought we could read it together.” 
It was a Friday, after all.
“Sure, let me put this food up,” you said. 
Tendou grinned eagerly, bouncing to his feet while you brought the food to the fridge; already talking a mile a minute about a different manga he had just finished. You couldn’t stop the smile that worked its way onto your face, you loved his aimless rambling. Where you more reserved, Tendou was outgoing and could fill any gaps in the conversation you left behind. It worked well for the two of you. 
While watching Tendou chatter away you wondered if you had been too harsh at the train station. Clearly there was an underlying insecurity that convinced him you didn’t care about him. Was it his history of bullying? Before you had really gotten to know Tendou, it was hard to imagine him as anything but carefree and untouchable. You knew he would tell you eventually. Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow. Over the past few years you had found the best way to get Tendou to open up was to say nothing at all, his rambling always ended up on touchy topics anyways.
Tendou held out an earbud for you once you sat down on the couch beside him. You placed it in your ear and smiled when you recognized the playlist the two of you had put together. The only time Tendou could stay quiet longer than five minutes was when he was reading. You settled into the familiar routine, sitting close to him while he angled the pages towards you so you could both read. Tendou was such a fast reader you were forced to learn to speed read as well in order to keep up with him. Now, you were perfectly synchronized.
 Today, however, he couldn’t stop glancing over at you. Ugh, he suddenly so acutely aware of everything you did. Every time you shifted to see a panel or readjusted the earbud he felt his heart pickup and he was too aware of every movement he made. His limbs felt too long and awkward, his face felt too warm, and oh my god did he brush his teeth this morning? 
Tendou swallowed nervously, for once relieved for the chapter to finally end so he could put some space between your bodies. He stood up abruptly, wincing when the earbud was ripped out of his ear. 
“Ow,” you held your ear. “Is something wrong, Tendu-chan?”
“Of course not, dearest Y/N,” he put on his widest grin, bowing down and extending his hand. Fuck, your nickname for him was not helping his nerves. “I was just wondering if you would like to accompany me to the bathroom.”
“Ew, what is wrong with you?” You smacked his hand away. 
“Well, you did ask,” he chirped cheerfully before prancing down the hall. 
You sighed, replacing the earbud while settling into a more comfortable position. After several minutes you realized Tendou had yet to return. Frowning, you stood up and went to the bathroom to find the door still closed. 
“Tendu-chan?” You knocked softly. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, Y/N,” Tendou popped his head out from your bedroom. “I was looking at your photo wall.”
You raised your eyebrows, following him inside. “Yeah? I have quite a few.”
It had been a hobby of yours to have at least three pictures of each of yours friends on your wall since elementary school. Since you started hanging out with Tendou at the beginning of high school, his section had amassed a great deal of photos. 
“I forget you’ve never been in here,” you smiled, watching Tendou closely.
You had never seen such an open expression on his face before. His eyes flicked over the photos of him taped to your wall quickly, as if he couldn’t decide which to focus on. 
“I didn’t realize,” he said softly.
“Hm?”
He tilted his head back, sliding his eyes to look at you. “I didn’t realize I still had a safe place, a paradise.” 
“You’ll always be welcome here, Satori,” you reached out and squeezed his bicep. “I promise.” 
“I feel so blind, Y/N,” he closed his eyes, head still tipped back as he took in a slow, study breath. “I thought I had lost everything when volleyball ended. My friends, my passion…” 
Crimson eyes locked on your own, the intensity of them so startling you sucked in a sharp breath. 
“But I still have you,” Tendou said, slowly turning his body to face yours. “Right?”
“Of course,” you answered.
“Good,” he nodded. “Good.” 
His head turned back towards your wall of photos, fingers reaching out to snag at the bottom of one. You looked closer and saw it was a picture of the two of you at one of his games. You had jumped onto his back to hug him and your friend had barely managed to get the shot. The blurry grins on your faces were bright and excited.
“Can I?” He asked, tugging lightly on the corner. 
“Take it, I can print a new one.” You said. 
He peeled it off carefully and flashed a grin at you. 
“Thank you,” he reached out, placing his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair messily. 
You knocked his hand away and brushed your hair back into place with a huff. Tendou laughed loudly, sprawling backwards onto your bed with a thump. He looked at the picture once more before sliding it into his pocket. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up at you with his signature sleepy smirk. 
“Make yourself comfortable, I guess,” you said. 
“Aw, you’re so considerate,” Tendou crooned, stretching his arms out until his shirt road up to reveal his toned stomach. 
You glanced down at the exposed skin and blushed, looking away quickly. Tendou noticed, of course, and couldn’t stop the mischievous smirk on his face as he reached out and grabbed your hand. 
“Tendou-“
“Oh, hush,” he chastised lightly. “I’m just getting you to sit. This is your bed, after all.”
You sat down on the edge, watching as he pulled your hand to his chest. He examined your fingers faintly before weaving his fingers with yours. When your fingers spasmed nervously he gripped them tighter. 
“I had a lot of time to think,” he sighed, eyes still fixated on your joined hands, before elaborating. “While we were apart.”
You stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue with bated breath. 
“I like you, Y/N,” his eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul. 
“Tendu-chan-“ You started to pull your fingers away.
One second you were sitting at the edge of the bed and the next you were pinned beneath Tendou’s body. His breath tickled your lips and his hands kept your arms above your head by the wrists. 
“Please, let me say this,” he pleaded, eyes switching between yours and your lips. 
“You made high school bearable for me,” he said, pushing up until he was knelt between your legs instead of having you pinned. His hands rested on either side of your ribs. “I didn’t appreciate you enough at the time but-“
His fingers clenched in the sheets. “I do now, I appreciate you so much. Everyone else thought I was a monster, demon, whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore but when it did you were the only one who made it all easier. Does that make sense?”
“What about Ushijima? Your teammates?”
Tendou chuckled, letting his head droop between his shoulders. “Of course them, silly Y/N. They didn’t really have a choice, hm? I was on the team, you don’t really get to pick who’s there. You went out of your way to befriend me, to make sure I was okay before you even knew me.” 
You looked up at him, ignoring his little sniffle and the way he rubbed his nose against his sleeve subtly. You sat up slowly while Tendou watched you closely with his head tilted. 
“You’re my best friend, you know that right?” You asked softly. 
He nodded. 
“You will always be welcome in my home and I promise I will always want you around. You’re right, whatever those people used to say about you doesn’t matter. They were needlessly cruel and I wish I could’ve stopped them from hurting you,” you reached up, cupping his cheek gently. “You’re important, Tendu-chan. You’re caring, funny, and genuine. I love hearing about your favorite anime and your coolest blocks. I really do.” 
“Ohhh, is little Y/N crying for me?” He cooed, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears gathering on your lashes. “Sweet thing.” 
“I’m serious,” you said, letting him wipe your cheeks. 
“I know,” he squinted at you. “Will you let me try something?”
From the way his crimson eyes kept flickering down to your lips, you could easily guess what he wanted to try. You nodded mutely, breath catching excitedly as his face drew closer. 
The first touch of his lips felt like a static shock. Your eyes fluttered close as he pushed a little closer, experimentally moving his lips against yours. He let out a low groan into your mouth, pushing forward until you were laying down again. The hands that had been by your sides now moved to tangle in your hair and cup your face while his hips settled comfortably between your thighs. 
The first brush of his tongue across your bottom lip sent fire licking up your spine which eventually settled as a fluttering warmth in your stomach. Your hands came up to grab his arms, nails leaving shallow crescents on the pale skin of his biceps through his shirt. Parting with a nip to your bottom lip, Tendou licked his lips as he looked down at you. 
The sight of your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips sent a thrill of exhilaration through his chest. 
“Well?” He asked, a cocky grin smeared across his lips. 
It was like you were seeing Tendou in a brand new light. Before he was just your friend. You always knew he was good-looking but now, you were supremely aware of his shapely lips, cut jaw, and broad shoulders. His hips between yours was as intoxicating as the elated look on his face. 
“Stop looking so smug,” you huffed, pulling him down to your lips again. 
Laughing softly, Tendou happily obliged you in another sensuous kiss that left you dizzy and breathless. He swallowed your gasp when he experimentally rolled his hips into yours.
He pulled back, eyes lidded with a dazed smile, and tilted his head. “Is that okay?”
You nodded eagerly, leaning up to capture him in another kiss. With a sly smirk he pulled out of your reach, head tilted expectantly. 
“Yes, Tendou, now please get back to it,” you snapped, secretly appreciative of his need for clear consent. 
“There we go,” he murmured, stooping back down with a thorough roll of his hips. 
A groan was shared between both of your open mouths as his hips fell into a steady rhythm, slowly undulating against you. Sighing out his name, you let your head fall back while Tendou trailed kisses across your jaw and down to your throat. 
“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so perfect,” he murmured breathlessly, leaving wet, open-mouth kisses down the column of your throat. “Feel so good, hah-“
 His clothed erection lined up perfectly with your core, sending searing electricity flickering through your stomach. Your hands went from gripping his arms to tangling in his hair, tugging lightly at the crimson strands. 
“Haah-ah,” you moaned at a particularly accurate thrust that had his entire length dragging along your clit. “Satori, please.” 
“Oh, fuck,” Tendou sighed into your ear, pushing aside your hair so he could hide his face in the warmth of your neck. “You’re so hot, gonna make me cum in my pants. Keep making those pretty noises for me, sweet thing.”
You nodded along eagerly, pulling his head away from your neck so your could attach your lips again. Steady thrusts began to lose their rhythm as both of you got closer to completion. Tendou let out a throaty groan, wrapping his lean arms around you tightly so he could rub his hard-on against your core with more force. 
“Satori, ah!” You cried out at the stimulation. 
He clashed his mouth against yours messily, teeth clicking while he gasped against your lips. 
“M’ close,” he clenched his eyes shut. 
“Me too, me too,” you whined, hips writhing up against his desperately. “Satori!” Tendou practically growled at that, mouth claiming yours assertively. You shouted his name again while your orgasm wracked through your body, leaving you sensitive and tingly as Tendou chased his own release. He came with a low moan into your mouth, hips rolling gently through the aftershocks. 
When he finally slowed to a stop he went completely slack on top you. Tendou mouthed gently at your neck, fingers petting your hair as you both caught your breath. You released his hair and unclenched your stiff fingers a few times before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 
Curious hands slowly pushed beneath your shirt, tenderly exploring your body while Tendou continued to leave lazy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. His handsiness didn’t bother you since you were also busy tracing the muscles of his back. 
You whined when he landed another quick kiss before pushing off of you. 
“I gotta clean up,” he said, darting down to kiss you again. 
That reminded you of the uncomfortable dampness in your own pants so you got up as well. You found a pair of sweatpants that he could fit into from your brother and set them by the bathroom door for him. By the time you came back from changing he was already lounging in your bed again, your brother’s sweatpants an inch or two too short  above his ankles. 
Tendou’s expression brightened when you walked in, his eyes wide to match his grin as you climbed in to lay next to him. He was quick to wrap his arms around you again. 
“Well?” He asked. 
“Hmm?” You responded, face pressed against his shoulder. 
“What are we now?” He leaned back so he could see your face. 
You stretched languidly, tossing a leg over his hips and an arm over his chest before responding. 
“What do you want this to be?” 
“I want you to be mine,” he answered honestly. 
“Then I’m yours,” you said simply, kissing the hinge of his jaw. 
“My girlfriend,” he said adoringly, twisting to his side so you were facing each other.
You laughed softly, letting him cup your cheeks so he could pull you into an unhurried kiss. His tongue pressed past your lips to sweep along your teeth and slide hotly against yours. 
“I’m pretty great at apologies, huh?” He boasted. 
“Oh, shut up,” you groaned, pushing him away by his forehead. 
Tendou let you shove his face away with a quiet giggle before brushing your hand away so he could attack your neck with more kisses. 
“You better not be leaving marks,” you threatened halfheartedly, too caught up in the addicting sensation of his lips on your body to be serious. 
Tendou eyed a particularly red spot, pressing a light kiss to it. “Of course not, baby.” 
“That didn’t sound too convincing.”
“Well… it might fade,” Tendou circled the spot with his finger. “I kinda like it.”
“Satori!”
“Whaaat?” He crooned. “It lets everyone know you’re mine.” 
“Ugh, you creep,” you murmured, accepting a soft kiss. 
Tendou giggled cheerfully, squeezing you closer to him affectionately. He left a flurry of kisses across your cheeks and nose, sighing happily. 
“I love this,” his hands roved over your body. “Getting to touch and kiss you as much as I want.” 
“Mm, me too.”
Tendou’s lean body was beautiful, so was his blush when you informed him of this. He groaned and hid his face in the crook your neck. 
“I’m serious!” You insisted, pulling his face from your neck so you could look at him.
“I know you are, thank you,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes. 
“Aww, are you embarrassed?”
Tendou scoffed. “Tch, of course not. I’m a catch, a total babe.”
Laughing, you let him bite playfully at the hinge of your jaw for a moment before shoving him away so he couldn’t leave another mark. Tendou settled down and was happy to let you brush your fingers through his hair until it lost it’s shape and started to fall over his forehead. 
“Mmm, sleepy,” he sighed, practically purring as you massaged his scalp. 
“Go to sleep then.” 
He hummed, twisting his body until he was on his stomach with half of his body draped over yours. You smiled warmly, of course Tendou was a clingy sleeper. 
6K notes · View notes
bangtanfancamp · 4 years ago
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Champagne Silk | KNJ
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⋅summary: Almost year ago, you became the arranged bride of the most powerful man in the city, Kim Namjoon, but this morning, with you, he’s just a man who’s head over heels for you who can’t help getting lost thinking about his future with you.
Alternatively: no matter how powerful a man Namjoon is, he is still a klutz in the kitchen. A sexy klutz though.
⋅ author’s masterlist
⋅part two of the Silk series ( read part 1 here)
⋅also the second installment of breakfast with bangtan series (masterlist here)
⋅pairing: mafia!namjoon x reader
⋅genre: mafia! au, arranged marriage! Au, smut, fluff, angst, established relationship
⋅word count: 15.5k words
⋅rating: mature
⋅warnings: a generous amount of consensual sexual activities 🙃, brief scene of oral sex, impregnation kink, a shared bath tub, multiple instances of christiana being uncomfortable with using proper technical names for genitalia and being intentionally ambiguous instead. (honestly it’s more tame and wholesome than you think but god, if these two aren’t hot for each other )
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“Damn it.” 
The sound comes rumpled from the other side of the kitchen, like someone’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s so subdued and muttered that around anyone else, it might have been successfully hidden. But not right now. And certainly not with you. Because you know the distinct, adorable huff of your husband’s regret in an instant.
“You all right over there, darling?” There’s an innocence in your voice to hide your humor.
“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” 
“Oh, unfortunately I can do no such thing, my love. You’ll just have to brave the odds and tell me.” 
Your smile is benevolent, but unyielding. You politely, pleasantly even, refuse to give him another option, and he knows it. It’s that simple. Even with his back to you, he knows the jig is up. As he hunches with heavy shoulders, he sighs and mutters something too low for you to pick up at first.
“Once more for the people in the back, yeah?” You tease.
“I said, I spilled wine on everything,” he exhales. 
His voice is tinged in shades of caramel, rich with resignation, as he confesses, stepping aside so you can see the mess he’s made. 
“Oh, Joon.” 
A terribly bright fondness pulls your lips into a smile as your clumsy giant sheepishly ducks his head across the room. His once pristine white shirt, his linen pants and your white antique tablecloth are all freshly dip dyed in swirls of Pinot Grigio and rosé.
“I know. I know. You don’t have to say it.” His eyes flit down to the stack of too many wine glasses slotted between his large fingers that have spilled their bounty across every available fabric surface.
“You have no idea what I’m about to say,” you point out graciously.
Crossing the room, you tip up on your toes to press a tender kiss to the spots where his jolly dimples would show if he weren’t so flustered. 
“MmmHmm. Sure I don’t.” He squints at you while you slip one glass at a time out of his grip and reach for a cloth.
“Precisely. You shouldn’t assume, Namjoon. You know what they say.” You smirk, wetting the cloth with water you know will be too frigid for him to stand in this half asleep state he’s in, but the stains have got to go.
“And what exactly do they say?” His large palms dip to rest on his hips as he braces for your commentary.
“Simply that assumptions only make an ass out of you and me so…”
His nose scrunches in distaste, even as he starts to laugh. “What a beastly phrase. I forget how much delicacy Americans have.” 
“Oh heaps of it. More than they know what to do with, really.” You shrug as you wring out the cloth. “Positively genteel. Is that not why you chose to marry one?” You add with a wry smile.
Glancing down at the bands on your finger, you warm at the way they glisten in the bits of lazy Sunday light filtering through the window. Namjoon’s glints golden across the room as he waits for your rescue. Both still new enough to feel like a novelty. Enough to make a small light inside you beam with pride whenever you catch sight of it.
“I chose to marry the only one I could find who was quick enough to get the stains I make out before they set and sweet enough not to give me grief for it.” He arches an eyebrow down at you in challenge as you slip one hand past the deeply undone row of buttons on his shirt to pull the fabric up and away from his skin as you begin to gently blot at the wine.
“Oh no. Well, I hate to inform you of this, but unfortunately, I’m actually 0 for 2 in those qualifications. But I will sincerely try my best since you’ve placed so much trust in me.” You chuckle as you set to work. “Would it be helpful if I mention what a smart wife you have to have ixnayed buying that cabernet sauvignon you wanted so badly, especially given your current predicament?”
Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dipping to press his nose against your own while shaking his head. 
“No. Not in the slightest.”
“See? That’s good to know. Would have been awful if I mentioned the Merlot I put back too then. Can you imagine? Could have been so unseamly.”
He laughs, smiling against your hairline. “Well, what would have been the point of whisking my bride all the way out to a little villa in wine country and inviting guests only to not serve them red wine?”
“The point would have been you not turning into the kool-aid man whenever said wine inevitably spilled all over you. Case in point.” You look up at him through wide, fluttered lashes as you press the icy cold cloth against a particularly bold splatter on his chest. The frigid water grazes his nipple through his thin shirt and your giant of a man winces like he was wounded on the playground.
“Hey, that’s freezing.” He moves to swat your hand away. 
“Would you rather just take this off then? So I can work properly,” You smirk.
“No,” he sighs. “That would just be colder.” 
He looks so adorable right now. The lavender locks you’d once loved so well have been replaced, faded into a dusty blonde instead. His thick hair, usually coiffed so neatly, so perfectly, is currently disheveled entirely. Bits that had been gently curated to frame his face the night before are now plastered to his forehead, others shooting off at odd angles, all from falling asleep on the couch beside you once your dinner guests finally left late last night. 
He’s still in last night's now stained and rumpled clothes, still looking absolutely divine with the sleeves cuffed against his elegant forearms and his now wide open neckline thanks to the buttons undone all the way down past his rib cage.
His body is every bit a grown man, but his sleepy features- those wide eyes and pouted lips- make him look every bit the little boy you saw once in his mothers photo albums the week of the wedding. Big Namjoon still makes the same faces when he makes a mess as little Namjoon, and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.
“Don’t be such a weenie,” you tease. 
“Careful who you tease, woman. You’re the only one in this city who forgets how many people are afraid of me.”
“This city is half a day’s drive away. There’s no one to fear you here,Joonie. Besides, your enemies have clearly never seen how quickly you’d fall in a battle against the cold or else you would have been displaced ages ago,” you tease with a twinkle in your eyes as he narrows his at you.
“I don’t think you’d like ice water on your breasts first thing in the morning either.” He huffs under his breath.
“You never know til you try,” you wink.
“Would you like to try?” His eyes rake over you salaciously despite the tenderness in his smile. 
“No, I can’t say that I do,” you chuckle, pushing a palm against his chest. “Besides, it’s hardly first thing in the morning, Joon. It’s almost noon.” You nod toward the clock.
There’s still sleep in his voice when he laughs, the sounds rich and resonant where it blooms from his chest. “Well, it’s still morning for me when we didn’t fall asleep til well after 3 because our guests don’t know when to leave.”
You smile to yourself at the memory of time spent with your friends. Well, more accurately Namjoon’s friends, i.e. the members of his crew who have become like family to both of you. Namjoon’s been on the move so much with work lately that there’s been no time to simply sit and enjoy their company. You were in raptures when he suggested they join you for dinner last night.
“It was so good to see Hoseok and Jungkookie though. Their new girlfriends seem so sweet.” 
Namjoon’s gaze seems far off somewhere as he listens to you.“They do, don’t they? JK’s seemed spunky too. She’s good for him.” 
“I think so too. He spent half the night blushing- he was so happy. It was good to see him so over the moon for once, that little romantic.”
Namjoon smiles, a soft thing nestled in the pocket of his cheek, full of fondness for the youngest of his friends. “Yeah, I’m glad he finally found someone so good for him.” 
Pulling you in, he kisses you gently, once, twice before pressing his lips to the top of your forehead, an unspoken “as good as you are for me” hidden his warm brown eyes.
“Big softie,” you whisper, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb brushing over his cheeks. He tips his face toward your palm to plant a kiss there too, his lips just brushing the inside of your wedding band as you smile.
“For you? Always.”
“For me? It was the food last night. God, That charcuterie board Jin brought was positively masterful.” The memory alone has your mouth watering. “Such a shame it was all gone so soon though.”
“Ooo, speaking of,” Namjoon slips out of your grip to rustle around in the kitchen behind you. “Not quite.” 
“What did you do?” You narrow your eyes at him as you settle into a wooden chair to start tending to the swirling stains on the tablecloth.
“Oh, the best thing. Husband of the year level best thing.”
“Husband of the year? Can't wait to see this then. Very moderate expectations, indeed.”
With his back to you, you can’t see what he’s up to, but you can certainly hear it. Especially the low grunt when his hip snags on the new island counter. This poor man was clearly made for a different life than this old world kitchen provides. You wonder which will go first, your husband or the architectural detail. You chuckle to yourself until you realize exactly what it is he’s carrying.
“Kim Namjoon, is that-?”
“A mini stolen charcuterie board? You bet it is,” he winks your way, and a storm of winged things flutter in your stomach.
“How did you even-“
“When you had everyone gathered in the backyard, and Jimin tripped over the cord for the string lights.”
“I’ll never know how such a graceful man can cause such disasters. Or how you managed to befriend the only other man on earth as poised and clumsy as you all at once,” you chuckle, stealing a fig from the corner of the board as he peels back the plastic film covering it. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”
“Mmm Hmm. I knew you thought so,” he taps you on the nose lovingly. “You always ask Jin to make these for you, and then you’re always so sad when all twelve people you invite make it vanish in half an hour.”
“I know. I know. It would go farther if there were fewer people to share it with, but Joon, the boys are like family. I haven’t seen them all together in so long. I couldn’t bear to leave anyone out.”
There’s a twinkle glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. He’s glad to see how soft your heart somehow remains despite the life you both lead. 
“Which is precisely why I took the liberty of stashing some of this bounty away while the guests were busy and saving it for you.” 
When he smiles at you like that, all softened edges and warm brown eyes, it’s impossible not to fall in love with him all over again. It’s not like you’ve forgotten how kind he is or how striking he can be when he smiles. It’s simply that the more you see it, the more in love you become.
Rising up in your chair, you reach across the table to tenderly cradle his cheek.
“I hate to say this, because then you’ll know you were right, but this is really is an excellent submission for husband of the year. I would like to point out, though, that you are welcome to make as many entries as you’d like before the panel comes to a consensus, you know.” 
He smiles so wide that his eyes get lost in their beautifully crinkled edges. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, they do say that you should play toward the judge’s preferences. Would you happen to know any? To help me get that inside edge.”
“Now, now. I can’t help you cheat. You’ll have to conduct your own research.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely. We have a strict moral code. They’d ruin me if I let that sort of intel slip.” You tilt your chin up in defiance despite your smirk and laughing eyes.
“Hmm. We can’t have that, can we? Shame. I really thought this was going to be my year.”
“Do you really think the only way you’d win is to cheat? Come now...it can still be your year if you play your cards right.”
Your hand drifts up to his carelessly perfect hair, fingers gliding through it and tugging a bit near his scalp. One of his favorite ways to receive affection you’ve found out this past year. His lids fall heavy before he can catch them, a small hiss catching behind his teeth that means you’ve done it right.
“Careful. You don’t know what you might be starting.” His eyes wander the edges of your lips, trace the frame of your collarbone.
“I’d never take the risk if I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.” The twist of your lips is subtle, as gentle as the seduction you’ve learned is your forte. 
Namjoon licks his lips, the lower one snagging in his teeth as his eyes drift over you. Without breaking his gaze, he takes a champagne grape from the board and lifts it to your lips. You can feel your pulse flutter and quicken beneath your skin. It always does when he eyes you like that.
The man might as well be a snake charmer for all the control you feel like you have over yourself right now as your mouth parts of its own accord for him. But just before the fruit can graze your lips, his grin widens- wicked with delight- as he decides to pop it in his own mouth instead.
His dimples are so deep as he laughs at your flustered state that you wish you could crawl inside them and hide.
“Ha Ha. Very funny, Joon. Tease the woman you claim to love. Excellent way to keep a happy wife.” 
Rolling your eyes, you push off from the table, fully intent on doing... you have no idea what, exactly. All you know is that you need to get away from this table as fast as you can before you knock the carefully preserved remnants of this charcuterie board to the floor and take him on the table.
 The blush that was rushing to your cheeks is now crashing in your ears and all you can think to do is “go,” but before you can get even half a step too far, Namjoon’s warm, impossibly large hand is already wrapping itself around your wrist and grounding you to your spot.
“All I want is a happy wife,” he laughs. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I thought I made that pretty clear from the first day.”
Slowly, he stands as his hand trails its way down to dance across your palm before lacing your fingers with his. 
“Certainly doesn’t feel like it right now,” you pout, despite the excitement thrumming in your veins. You know that look on his face now. The one that’s evil and beautiful, sincere and serpentine. The one that wants to devour you playfully. To love you even as he ruins you.
“Oh no,” he tsks. “That won’t do.” 
Suddenly, he snaps you to him, his hands fastening themselves to the dip in your waist. You gasp, the force making you brace against his smooth, exposed chest to catch yourself.
“It won’t?” Your voice comes out airy, too thin, as the morning breeze billows through the open windows. 
“No. Not at all. So I wanna know: how can I fix this, baby?” His eyes are possessed by something wicked as one hand leaves your waist to trace a thumb over your parted mouth.
“I- I”
“Shh, I made this mistake. I’ll make it right.” He arches a single brow as his tongue wets his lips, and your brain loses any grip on rational thinking.
“And h-how do you plan to do that?” It’s a whisper- too breathy, too barely coherent. His hands are so warm. His touch is like lightning and suddenly even breathing requires too much energy with the way you feel like you’ve shorted out.
“I don’t know. You tell me, baby.” His knuckle tips it’s way under your chin, tilting your face up to his as you follow in obedience.
“But… I thought… I told you. The judge can’t help.” You swallow, lashes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your lips.
“Then she can’t get what she wants,” he challenges.
“Fair enough. That’s fair.” Your head bobbles in assent. 
“So I’ll try this again,” his face dips down until his mouth rests just below your ear. “What do you want, baby?”
You feel lightheaded as you melt in hands, rushing out the words, “Counter. Now. Please.”
 Your expression folds in on itself in satisfaction when Namjoon grips you around the waist and plants you on the kitchen island without a moment's hesitation. You gasp, airy and quick, before his palm is fitted against the curve of your throat with just the amount of pressure he’s learned that you like.
“Good girl. Open your legs for me, baby.”
A muffled inhale later, your knees have parted where you’re sat on the island and Namjoon is fitted between them, his hips to the counter as he kisses you in earnest. 
“Oh my god,” you gasp as his tongue and open mouth work their way down your throat, painting wide open blossoms of scarlet and blush along the way. Your hands are in his hair, at his scalp, tugging and grabbing to bring him back to your kiss. His taste is tinged salty and sweet from your skin and the grapes, and your thighs wrap themselves tight around the narrow slope of him.
He’s gotten so broad since the wedding day. If you had trouble composing yourself around him then god only knows how you’ve survived the past year. His shoulders seem wider, his arms more substantial, his chest impossibly inviting as you claw at the last remaining buttons of his dress shirt. 
“Off. Off. Take this off.” You push at the sleeves that bunch around the arcs of his newly swollen biceps, taking a moment to drink in how beautiful they are as you clutch at his golden skin. 
“So eager now. What happened to my shy girl?” His voice is teasing, light, but his eyes look proud of you.
“You did things like this to her, and now she can’t get enough.” Your mouth fits itself to the beautiful stretch of bare skin beneath his ear, suckling the indescribable taste of him before traveling down his throat and across his jaw.
He laughs, something deep and melodic, before his fingers begin to glide over your collarbone and dance over your arms, featherlight, like he always does when he’s trying to rile you up.
“Should I get this out of our way then?” His fingers tug at the slim straps of your champagne blush dress. You’d worn it especially for him at last night’s party. You’d never forgotten his affinity for your skin draped in silk.
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
“Of course I do, baby. It’s perfect.”
“Then why do you want me to take it off?”
 Your voice is sticky sweet with innocence, but Namjoon knows better. He doesn’t know where you got the wherewithal to tease him right now as he holds you pressed against his growing warmth, but when your eyes flick to his, he knows you’ve made the right choice. He likes it when you challenge him. It makes it more fun when he wins.
“So I can do this,” he grins with a flash of his teeth.
Without missing a beat, he’s slipped both straps clean off your shoulders, leaving the dress to pool around your hips, and scoops one of your soft breasts gently into his mouth. Your breath comes sharp, a stuttered, inhaled moan that tastes as sweet to him as the ripened figs on the tray. Deliciously priceless. 
He still can’t get over you. He doesn’t think he ever could. He’s never reached a point where the sounds you make fail to set his world ablaze. He’d like nothing more than to make drawing them out of you every morning just like this his sole profession.
Reverently, his other hand brushes up your side to cradle your other breast beside it. God, they’re so soft. Namjoon is almost ashamed to admit how infatuated he is with your breasts.  It would be embarrassing if you weren’t equally in love with receiving all the attention he gives them.
What can he say? He’s a simple man. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him and for him? They’re perfect. Even with all the exploration the two of you have shared this past year, he knows this part of your body has got to be his favorite- your skin there is so velvet smooth and supple, so delicately sensitive, so perfectly sized for him to devour to his heart's content.
As his tongue warms the tender skin of your nipple with affection, and his thumb steadily plays with the other, he feels the muscled grip of your thighs tighten against him. The sounds you make for him as you clutch at the edge of the granite might as well be a symphony. He loves you like this. Wild and coming undone at his touch and attention. No one in the world but you and him.
“J-joon, baby.. I-“
Looking up at you through heavy eyes, entirely impressed with himself, he smiles and flicks his tongue against you again. When the jolt makes you jump, he stands to his full height above you, and sets his hands back on your sides.
“What is it, baby? You have to tell me.”
Your brows crumple in softly as you look up at him through your lashes. If you could speak, you would, but the way he plays you like an instrument with no effort at all always seems to dispose of your grace.
“But Namjoon…”  you’re trying and failing to catch your breath as both his thumbs come to lazily torment the soft swells of your chest. 
“You know what you like. You know what you want. Just tell me.”
You’ve barely got enough breath to function as it is, let alone to form a sentence. “But baby, I can’t…”
“Then I’m afraid you can’t have it.” He tuts. “Not if you can’t ask.” 
His grin is wicked, and as much you want to drown in it, something in you wants to wipe it off his pretty face.
“Not… fair…”
He runs his tongue over his teeth as he smiles.
“Really? Because to me, what’s not fair,” he grips your hips, snatching you forward that last little inch to sit snug against his hips, “is me giving you a prize you haven’t earned.”
His hands dip to cup the curve of your backside,
his fingers digging deep into the silk and softness he finds there as he continues.
“ What’s not fair is the way you teased me in this little dress last night when you knew there would be too many people around for me to enjoy it properly…”
Dipping down, his sumptuous lips brush your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What seeing you in this dress all night did to me?”  
As yet another lightheaded gasp leaves your lips, a dark, satisfied chuckle leaves his. 
“H-how would I know?” your air comes in shaky as he has his way with you
“You know, baby girl. You always know.”
 As his fingers dip firmly into the globes of your backside, he begins gently, just barely, rocking against you. No hurry. No fuss. Just maddening, slow pressure as he grazes you. When an airy moan comes whimpering from your lips, his strong hands tense, keeping your hips too fixed to succumb to moving with him.
“But you didn’t... say anything.”
Your eyes flutter closed as his face lowers toward yours. You can feel the brush of his lips ghosting over the edges of your cheek, his nose tracing against your skin.
“Don’t act like you couldn’t tell. You know silk always does me in.”
His fingers slip across your stomach where your dress has pooled to rest. They ghost like a whisper over your hips and down your legs until they reach the hem of your skirt. He fits his hands against your skin and drags them up achingly slowly, willing his touch to memorize the feel of your skin along the way as he pushes the fabric up inch by merciless inch- all while never stopping the insatiable way his lips move warm against yours.
His touch and his kiss are languid, unhurried, as he sets you on fire. When he reaches your thighs, his palms splay across them, his thumbs dragging along the inner swell of your legs as your vision begins to blur. 
He’s taking his time. He’s teasing you and enjoying it. It’s evident in the way he slows down the higher he gets. The way his mouth begins to travel down your throat in kisses so soft, so divinely sweet, that you swear you’re growing lightheaded from the swelling rush of pleasure.
His thumbs have made their way to the folds of your hips, his hands hidden beneath the fabric as your body lights up electric at his touch. Like if it shines bright enough for him, he might bless it with all that you know he is capable of. But even though he knows you’re more than willing, your tease doesnt satiate your body or her cravings for him just yet.
Instead, he slows down further. He fits his hands on the outer edges of your hip while his kisses turn gentle, calming, resolving, as if he has no intention of following through further after riling you up like this.
“What are you— why are you stopping?” Your eyes flit between his, a subtle , whining irritation building up beside your impatience when he doesn’t move. He’s quiet at first, in no rush to answer. As his beautiful face hovers over you, he's so smug you almost want to slap him for toying with you like this. 
But that won’t get you what you want. What you need. So Instead, you take one of his hands and press it to your breast as you guide the other toward the center of you.
He plays along at first, until his fingers are about to brush the part of you that’s positively tingling for his touch, and he abruptly pulls back, resting both of his hands on the countertop on either side of you.
“Ah, ah. That’s for when you use your words, my sweet.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, and suddenly, you’ve never been more greedy or more furious. 
Snatching at his waistband, you pull his hips forward and slip your hand over the linen to hold him. His breath catches at the back of his throat, and his eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the shift in power.
“And I said, the judge can’t tell you the answers.”
You level him with a look of quiet confidence as your fingers slip between his skin and the linen to hold him where he wants you most. His brows tip into softened u’s as the coolness of your touch brushes against him.
“Husband of the year should know what I want by now. I shouldn't have to tell him.”
You grasp him, fingers running delicately up the underside of him at the same time that you lick into his mouth. You feel him dip a bit as his knees buckle, making his hands on the counter the only thing holding him up.
“Mother of god,” he mumbles, even as his hips move in compliance with your touch. “Where did you learn that?”
“From the best,” you beam. Your smile is genuine, sweet and blindingly bright. It makes him want to take a bite out of the apples of your cheek, so he does. A playful nip that has you giggling and him pressing his lips together in fondness. 
The moment is sweet, until you catch his eyes with that same saccharine smile on your face, and take your hand away. His mouth opens, about to protest, until he watches you run your tongue in a long, slow stripe up your fingers before reaching back down behind his waistband to run the wet digits over his heated skin as you grasp him.
“Oh my… fuuuuck,” he exhales, his weight dropping to press into the counter. His face dips to lean against yours as he struggles to stay lucid. This feels so good, so out of nowhere, that his body is bursting to life more rapidly that he can keep up with. 
With every movement you make, he moves with you, gasping through his open mouth with every touch as he tries to keep his composure. Leaning into your forehead, he feels his nose bumping against yours as he searches for air. He feels nearly lightheaded but god, you’re incredible. Your touch feels so good- he never wants you to stop. 
Still, he wants control back though. To make you as much of a mewling mess as you’re currently making of him. He was enjoying the game you were both playing before, but he likes the feeling of winning more. However, just when he thinks he’s got a way to get the upper hand back, you ever so lightly twist your grip as you pump him, and suddenly, he can’t tell if he’s dying, ascending or blacking out. 
It feels so good so fast that he can barely remember his own name, let alone stage a coup. Your fingertips gently play with the tip of him at the top of each swell in your fluid flourish, and suddenly he can’t think of anything else to do with all this bursting excess inside of him but to kiss you. So he does. Open mouthed. Sloppy. Full of want. It feels so incredible that you can’t help but laugh brightly into his mouth, ethereally elegant, even as you wreck him. 
As you work, he can feel the way he’s growing harder with your attention, the way his blood feels like it’s singing the longer you touch him. His hips are obeying you like they belong to you, and at this point, he’s pretty sure they do. His mouth is painting your throat, adding swathes of crimson to the blooms he made before until your neck is colored with an entire bouquet of his affection. 
When he closes his eyes, the light behind them sparkles with effervescence as he listens to the quickness of your breath as you work. The sounds, the moans, the gasps you make as you touch him mingle with sounds of early morning nature and Namjoon wonders if this was what the poets meant when they described paradise. 
Pleasure is cresting over him in warm, molten waves now, and as it builds, he realizes he was wrong.
That as much as he loves your luminous eyes, your serene smile, the softness of your breasts, that those aren’t truly his favorite part of you if he’s honest. At least not right now. Not in moments like these. Because right now, with your hand wrapped around him, wrecking him with craving, that title is held by the treasure between your thighs; and as the blood rushes away from the rest of his body and swells where your hand lies, all he can think of, all he wants, is to bury himself in the wet, velvet warmth of you and never leave.
If he doesn’t get you naked with him inside you within the next three seconds, he thinks he might die.
So he does something about it.
“Open, baby. Open your legs for me,” he demands. It’s firm, commanding, but his eyes are so full of needy want that it’s hard to say who’s really in charge right now. 
Pushing your hand away and placing it on his chest, Namjoon kicks down his linen trousers and slides up your dress as you obey. He springs out, the length of him pressing into the meat of your thigh. It has you whimpering before you can catch yourself.
“God, I knew you were a smart boy. You’d figure it out eventually,” your voice is teasing, but your face is so dizzy, so desperate for him, that he could give you the whole world if you asked.
“You ready for me, baby?” His eyes are half blown with lust, his lashes hanging heavy as he runs his fingers over your opening, before collapsing against your shoulder. “ Oh my god.”
“What is it, Joon?”
“Nothing. I just,” he chuckles once, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how wet you get for me.”
With no hesitation, he slips two fingers inside you as your belly contracts. Gasping his name, you can’t help but cling to him as light shoots through your body at the incredibly welcome feeling of his hands there.
“Nam- Namjoon, ah!” Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you can feel your nails dig into his sturdy flesh as he begins rocking you with a motion so good, so fluid you fear you may simply float away and never touch the ground again.
“Yes, baby? What is it?” 
“You. I want you. Please.”
“You have me, baby.” His teeth are gritted in focus as he works you, his brow dipped low as he watches how easily you come undone with his attention. Warmth gushes over his fingers as he feels your walls contract in tandem with the tug of your hands in his hair. The sting is sharp and sublime as you grasp him tight with every part of you.
“Inside. Come inside. Need you. Now,” you plead. Your other hand trickles down his torso to the soft hair above his member before holding him firmly with a twist of your hand. He moans, hips canting into your delicate palm.
Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. Slipping his fingers out of the way, he scoops you safely to the edge of the island, one large hand stroking himself and guiding him to line up with your eager entrance.
The essence of you coats the tip of him without any effort, your body unfolding, so relaxed for him, as he easily begins to slip inside you. It’s so abundant that the slide is effortless, helping him bottom out almost immediately within you. Your head falls back in wonder as he does, your hands quickly planting against the cold counter to catch you. 
Wow. God, Namjoon’s body always has a tendency to overwhelm you, no matter how many times you get caught up in each other like this. You still can’t get over that. Honestly, it would be impossible to when he’s built like he is. 
He’s broad everywhere- that’s obvious to anyone. But here, he’s long and thick, with thighs like tree trunks powering each movement as he glides inside you. Any other time, you might have needed his help to adjust, for him to take his time to warm you up, but this morning? Your body is ready for him, and he knows it. 
It’s unfolding itself for him like a bloom to the sun, and he’s reverent enough to return its worship. You’re so wet that he can feel it trickling down his hip as he pistons into you, and he regrets not dipping down to sample a taste of it before coming inside. But now that he’s here, there’s absolutely no way he’s leaving the warmth of your walls until you're both falling over and spent.
Your ankles are crossed behind him, pulling him as close as you can get him, and his face is pressed against your neck and collarbone as both your hips work in dizzy tandem. The sensation of it sends his consciousness swirling as the pressure in his abdomen builds.
He’s convinced now that you’re a real, actual goddess. There’s no way you could make him feel this divine if you weren’t. Your ambrosia coats his thickness, spilling over him as he thrusts harder, deeper, tilting his hips to curve against that spot inside you that—
“Oh! God! Joon,” you yelp. “Yes, don’t stop.”
His grin is infectious. You can feel it against your skin as you pull him tighter, rocking in time with him as your euphoria builds. Your laugh is bright, sparkling as he licks his fingers and slips them swirling over the sensitive burst between your legs. Your breath catches, his name and profanity tumbling from your lips in equal measure.
You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Your senses are on overload, your vision darkening around the edges as the pleasure he paints across your body escalates rapidly. Somewhere far off, you can hear his voice. His mouth is near your ear, his breath cooling your skin that’s become sticky with sweat, but you can’t understand, can’t wrap your brain around what he’s saying…
Until you realize that even fully coherent, you’d still be lost because your forever intoxicating husband has slipped back into his native tongue. You love it when this happens. With his senses so thoroughly drowning in you,  translating language just becomes too hard a thing to manage, so the harder and deeper he goes, the lower the bass in his voice becomes as he mumbles in korean against your ear.
You’ve learned enough to catch words like “beautiful” “perfect” and “God, I love you,” but the rest remain a mystery as he captures the innermost parts of your body for himself with swift, perfect strokes of his hips. The depth he’s reaching right now has you in raptures. It has your breath coming in short gasps as your breasts bounce buoyantly with each...incredible… thrust he delivers.
You won’t last much longer. You know it. And All you can think right now is how badly you want to look in his eyes when you come- which you know will happen any second now.
  Between his touch, his voice, the indescribable way he moves his hips when he’s inside you, and the crescendo you feel from the spot he’s internally caressing right now, you know you’re only moments away from dissolving into the atmosphere, yet all you want is more of him.
“Joon, baby, I’m so close. Look at me. Please,” you move one of the hands supporting you to hold his face and bring it to yours.
God, that please of yours. It flows so naturally from your lips when he has his way with you. He doesn’t know how to describe what it unleashes in him, but he knows it never fails to wreck him. “Shh, let go, baby girl. I’m right here. I got you.” 
Before he can think, he’s kissing you deeply, his tongue insatiable as he tastes you. He alternates between kissing you and pulling back to catch your eyes. The depth of affection in his gaze warms you brilliantly from the inside even as you swear you can practically feel his thrust against the underside of your lungs. 
His once seamless rhythm has become all feel and nuance. All order is long lost as he makes his last powerful dives into the depths of you. You can feel it- the tightness in his body, the firm set in his jaw, the profound depth of his voice as he praises your body in Korean. If you were to die like this, caught up in Namjoon’s impeccably loving, gracious body, you wouldn’t have a single regret.
There’s nothing more you could ask for. 
The glittering sensation pulsing through your body let’s you know it’s almost time to surrender, and you’re ready to come undone. Surely, there could be nothing more blissful than this— until Namjoon takes the hand he’s kept gripped around your waist and slips it up to your throat.
Your eyes go wide. 
He really was paying attention. Husband of the year, indeed. 
And just like that, the express trip to ecstasy nearly slams into your body. His eyes are locked on yours. He’s muttering a soft “good girl” and “that’s it, baby” as he works his powerful hips into you. He has one hand clamped firm and perfect below your jaw along your throat, and the other dancing elegantly along the bundle of nerves between your legs. He takes those fingers into his mouth to wet them, his face crumpling in a satisfied moan at the taste of you on his skin, before slipping them back where they belong. 
It’s altogether too much and you are lit up sparkling as the combined sensation of it all builds with the warmth of his body against you, within you. 
“Come for me, baby,” he says it clear and firm, his touch generous to help ease you over the edge. 
“Only if you come with me,” you breathe. Your eyes meet his as you try to find something to hold on to as the tension in you crests. 
He smiles then. All dimples and sweet eyes and perfect lips. He places a sweet kiss on your cheek beside your lips, and that’s all it takes to ruin you.
You feel your body contract around him in bliss as his name spills from your mouth. Making love to Namjoon has never felt commonplace, but there’s something about today. About him. About the sweetness of this morning in the middle of your perfect hidden home with him that makes you burst not only with pleasure, but with love. 
As your orgasm washes over you, you feel illuminated from within like the sun is glowing out of your skin as your body melts against him.
“I love you,” you whisper. “You’re so perfect.”
As your body floats back down from wherever you just astral projected from bliss, you can feel that his body is just a breath away from tipping over the edge itself. He’s pulling back, pulling out, intending to spill himself elsewhere, but in that instant, you realize you don’t want that.
Your memory flashes back to your wedding day. To the moment those hideous people decided to squawk about your child-rearing, heir-producing duty just hours after your vows, and Namjoon had cut them off immediately at the jump and whispered,” don’t pay them any mind. That happens when you’re ready. Not a second before,” soft against your ear. 
It was one of the first instances that made you realize what a good man he was. How willing he was to put your readiness, your comfort, before anyone or anything else. And now, as you take him in, as you remember how truly and deeply you love him, you realize you’re ready for there to be more.
You’ve had countless discussions with him about starting a family, and everytime, without missing a beat, his answer has always been, “whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.” 
You've come to learn over this past year that he’s wanted nothing more than to become a dad since he was a small boy.
You’ve gotten to witness how fun, gentle and gracious he is with his nephews. With Jimin’s daughter, his sweet godchild. For a year, you’ve watched him be good and kind to any child he meets, patient with you, subdued as he hides the depth of his desire to be a father behind his dimpled smiles and suave redirection when you bring it up. 
He’s been willing to wait for you. He never pushes. He never demands. And in this moment, as you study the face of the incredible man who’s welcomed you into his heart and his home, all you want is to begin the journey to give him what you know he will never ask for, even though it’s what the secret parts of his heart want the most. 
“Namjoon,” you whisper,” don’t. It’s okay. You can finish inside me.” You caress his face lovingly as his eyes go wide. 
“Really? But baby… I… what…” Your eternally eloquent man has gone slack jawed in his loss for words as his hips begin to still.
“It’s okay,” you nod. “I want you to. I want to feel you.” You kiss the dip of his dimple.
“Are you sure? i-“ he stumbles before you lovingly cut him off.
“I think it’s about time we start trying for our family, don’t you?” You whisper. Your fingers thread through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes as his face beams with light. His shoulders and chest are shaking with laughter as his eyes flit between yours and he smiles.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His hands slip up to cradle your face, the most beautiful mixture of excitement and relief and the purest joy making his misty eyes look brilliant in the early light.
“Absolutely,” your voice is soft as you tip your nose against his. Your smile is all pearls and laughter as you reach to grab the full apples of his ass and push him into you.
He’s laughing and smiling and gasping when you do, before happily resuming the final few thrusts he would need to send himself over the edge.
“Use me, baby,” you whisper, eyes alight with the gentle seduction that always ruins him. “I want to feel you when you finish.”
Biting his lip, he swallows and nods, almost too eager, but you’re beautiful and warm and you’ve gotten so tight around him and he can’t help himself. He’s close. He’s already soo close. He’s spent nearly this whole morning trying to contain himself inside you despite the absolutely mind numbing feel of you, and here you are telling him to let go? It’s impossible that you’re real.
Pulling his face to you, he realizes you’re kissing him. Your honey sweet tongue has made a home in his mouth. Your soft breasts brush his chest with every thrust. Your hands are clutching his back and in his hair. Your heels pressed into the back of his legs to pull him close, and now he knows you want to carry his baby.
To allow your body to grow and change just to hold his seed, start his family and realize his dream of not only being a husband to you but a dad to your babies. He’s so in love with you. So maddeningly, ridiculously, stupidly, over the moon in love with you, and all at once, it’s happening.
His release is coming, strong and quick, and he can finally drown in the feeling of it happening while you surround him. His body is reeling at the burst of perfection he feels from losing himself in you like this. The cloud like swells of your thighs pressing around him might very well be the only thing holding him up.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, I love you.” His face is buried in your neck, your chest, your hair, your cheeks- everything all at once- his full lips dropping kisses on your skin like stars falling from heaven. 
When he pulls back to look at you, he can’t even put what he’s feeling into words. But it’s okay. Because you know. He can see it in your eyes.
Cradling his face, you smile up at him, eyes glossy and happy. “You ready?” 
“To have a baby with you?” His voice falters as his smile grows so wide his eyes nearly disappear. “There isn’t anything I want more.”
Pressing his forehead to yours as he hugs your waist, you both press your noses together and laugh. Overcome with something almost too sweet to simply be called happiness. The word seems too small to encompass it all.
“Maybe I’m not husband of the year yet, cause I definitely didn’t see that coming.” He chuckles.
“Oh shut up. I know you felt how you made me finish. You’re just showing off at this point.”
“I can’t have my baby girl leave anyway but satisfied with me.” He winks, and you smack his chest lightly.
“I’d be mad at you for being so smug if you weren’t actually as great as you think you are,” you scrunch your nose at him as he laughs.
“Well, if there are any areas of improvement I can work on, let me know. I hear I'm about to have a lot of time to workshop your suggestions.” Namjoon lovingly nips at your collarbone, and you tingle in bliss at the thought of how many more moments like this lie in your near future.
“Duly noted. On that note then, I feel compelled to point out that what you just did counted as an excellent submission for husband of the year.”
“Oh really?” He licks his lips slowly as you nod.
“Remember- you can make as many entries as you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. Limitless,” you assent. 
“Good to know. I’ll keep it mind,” he smirks, dipping down to lift the fullness of one of your breasts into his hand as he gently kisses the top of the swell of flesh. You sigh into his kiss. This is going to be a spectacular journey— you can already tell.
“Namjoon.”
“Hmm?” His eyes perk up, though his mouth never leaves its preoccupation with your bare chest.
“Is this… is this okay? I hope I didn’t spring this on you too soon or… I don’t know...too out of the blue? Because your comfort is important too, and I—“
You’re swiftly cut off by the sweet press of Namjoon’s delicious lips against yours. “Shh. Yes, I want this. More than anything.”
“So my timing wasn’t—“
“No. It was perfect. You’re perfect,” he kisses the tip of your nose as your lips bloom into a smile. “And if we are going to try to fill that cute belly of yours with a baby, then maybe… maybe this shouldn’t just be a weekend visit.”
Tipping your head to look at him, you feel your brows scrunch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, this has always been our getaway spot. A place to stay safe and lie low when things get jumpy in the city. A place to take you when we want to be alone. Truly be alone. But if…” he hesitates, lacing your hand with his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If you’re going to be carrying my baby, I want to keep you safe. I promised you that the day I met you- I’d never let anything happen to you. It’s been risky enough to have you in the city all this time as it is.”
“So...what exactly are you suggesting, love?” You run your thumb lovingly over his knuckles.
“I’m proposing if you do get pregnant, we move you out here. Permanently. Or at least somewhat long term.”
“Wait…” you pull away, eyes clouding as you do. “Alone? Without you?”
“No. No. I didn’t word that right. I’d be here as much as i can, and I’d send the security detail to stay out here whenever I have to leave so—“
“Namjoon, I don’t want to be all the way out here by myself. Surely, that’s not necessary.”
He frowns as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This is coming out wrong...You wouldn’t be fully by yourself. I’d be here as much as I can. I just... want you protected. Safe. And out of the city while you're carrying something so precious.” The backs of his knuckles graze your stomach. 
“But I don’t understand. Why—“
“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” His voice has turned solemn, his eyes an odd shade of vulnerability when they meet yours. 
“Joon, nobody’s gonna do anything. You’ve made that city so secure-nobody could hurt me even if they tried.”
Something stormy and troubled clouds his eyes.It makes you wonder if there are things he hasn’t told you. Things he’s kept to himself to ensure that your life is as peaceful as possible. You wonder what kind of darkness he’s had to swallow for your sake. 
“But they have tried.”
It's news to you. 
“What do you mean… when?” 
“It’s happened a few times. Nothing ever got far enough to warrant bringing it up.”
“What on earth? Joon, why in the world wouldn’t you tell me that?” 
He sighs once, from some deep place in his bones. “Because i never wanted to have to see the look in your eyes that I do right now.”
Suddenly, any anger you held vanishes all at once. 
“Baby, why are you carrying something like that all by yourself?”
“So you don’t have to. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I meant it. That includes taking care of your peace of mind. Something you won’t have if you knew how many times someone’s shot off at the mouth about coming for you because they’re irate at me or how many times someone has done more than just talked and actually tried.”
It’s a sobering thought.
“Is that… is that the real reason why you never pushed for an heir?” For reasons you can’t explain, the idea makes you want to cry. Namjoon sees the shift immediately, his fingers ready to brush your tears before they even fall.
“Shhh, hey. No. I mean, it’s part of it. You know all I’ve ever wanted was to be a parent. When I married you, please know the idea of you being the mother of my children sent me over the moon, but I know this world. How people take what they want. Do what they want. I wanted better for you.” He runs his fingers soft over your cheek like you’re some spun glass artifact he needs to protect. 
“I wanted to be better for you than the men in this world were going to give you. I promised myself that I was never going to demand anything from you. That’s why I didn’t push for an heir. I meant it when I said we go at your pace. Always.”
Sniffling, you look up at him through wet lashes. 
“Joon, protecting me doesn’t mean you hide the truth from me.”
“Not even if it would hurt you? Scare you?”
“I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to marry you. It’s so kind of you to try to take these burdens so I don’t have to, but then who carries them for you? That’s my job. You have to let me do it.”
Closing his eyes, he exhales long and slow through his nose. 
“You really mean it, don’t you? You really want to know.”
“Yes,” you nod, caressing his face. He looks troubled. You’d give anything to help take some of his cares away.
“Then you should know why we came to the villa this weekend.”
“So it wasn’t just for a getaway?” You brace yourself for whatever it is you’re about to hear.
“It is, and it isn’t. I guess I have to go back a bit for this to make any sense, but my family isn’t from here. You know that. Our roots don’t go back as many generations as yours do, so when the new kid on the block started gaining power in this city faster than anyone had seen before, there were a lot of families that weren’t happy about it.
Especially not when the daughter of one of the oldest families in the city became my bride. There had already been a lot of grumbling against me before I made such a powerful ally, and there were certainly plenty after. Anything we’d stumbled on over the last few months had been mostly hearsay, but…”
“What is it, Joon?” You're worried now. You can hear the way his voice sounds choked.
“There was a deal that went wrong a few weeks back. Just a skirmish with some lower level captains that got out of control, but I thought I’d put a pin in it. Turns out the other family involved hadn’t let it go like I thought …” he stops, eyes going cold as color drains from his face.
“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me,” you reassure. 
Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, his voice lower, raspier when he continues. “There was a hit put out on you this past week.
You’re shocked. “There— what?”
”It’s okay now. Jungkook caught intel on it soon enough that he crushed it before the people responsible could hurt you, but I've never seen anyone get this close. Y/n, I couldn't breathe when he told me. When I found out, I nearly lost my mind. I called you immediately to make sure you were safe— I couldn’t breathe til I heard your voice.”
You had no idea he’d been through that. You can’t imagine what you would have done if the roles were reversed, if you’d been seconds away from losing him. It would’ve shattered you. You’re not sure how he’s still standing.
“Once I knew you were okay, the first thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of town as fast as I possibly could. Something’s building in that city, y/n. The lower families are tired of their rank. They’re itching to get back any sort of power they can- it’s making them reckless. There’s rumors of a war building…I’d dismissed it so far. Didn’t think they were a real threat until they had the nerve to try something like this. We squashed it, but this was too close, and I’m not willing to risk you.”
Realization dawns across your face. “That’s why we left with less than an hour's notice. I’d thought you were just being romantic about a weekend getaway but ...That’s why we came to this safe house and not the one on the edge of town, isn’t it?”
His eyes fall away as he nods, “That’s why our security detail was thicker than usual.”
“But I've hardly seen anyone.”
“That’s on purpose. I didn’t want to scare you.  Didn't want to draw attention to a whole parade leaving town so I had them follow us at a distance. They’re stationed all around the property and schooled to stay out of sight.”
“What about the boys? Was it safe to have them here this weekend with their wives? Their girlfriends? Didn’t we put them in danger?” Your rounded eyes betray the sudden guilt you feel for what you thought had been such a beautiful night.
“Shh, no. Hey, they’re fine. I had them all moved out to safe houses not too far from here with a security detail on them too. They’re just a few miles from here. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about them driving out last night- they didn’t have to go all the way back to the city, just to our guest houses and then their safe houses in the morning….I’m having them all lie low for a little while. Figured they’d want their girlfriends and wives as close to their side as I want mine. Thought having them over was a good distraction for a night.”
You had no idea. Something cold runs up your spine at the thought that this weekend, this beautifully perfect day could’ve been so different. Or perhaps not even happened at all. 
Slipping your dress back into place, you cover yourself. It feels wrong to have this conversation half naked. Namjoon seems to sense it too as he pulls his pants back on. He offers to help ease you down from the counter, picking you up and placing you gently on the whitewashed floorboards, making sure you’re steady before he lets you go. 
Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh at how he has to make you sure you’re stable enough not to keel over where you stand after blessing you with an orgasm so bright it makes your soul radiate around your body. Now though, you find your hand cradling your lower belly, feeling entirely naive for thinking now was the time to bless the world with Namjoon’s child. You should say something, but the words get stuck in your throat…. you feel like a fool.
“I’m gonna make us some coffee, yeah? You want a cup?” Namjoon offers softly. When you look up, he looks so worn out all of a sudden. Like he’s somehow aged years during the course of this conversation. Like he really does need a cup of coffee, if not something stronger.
“Sure, baby. I’ll take one.”
Nodding, he presses a kiss to your forehead before he plugs in the black gooseneck kettle you’d gotten him for his birthday. The gift had been simple, thoughtful, and if he was honest, it was the best present anyone had ever given him.
He practically survives on black coffee most days. At the beginning of your marriage, he was always long gone before you rose most mornings, so in an attempt to slow him down and have more time with him, you’d gotten him a pour over set and a gooseneck kettle to replace his old instant apparatus.
He wondered if you were aware of all the additional gifts it had given him along the way....It required time to steep and brew. Time he’d never given himself before he met you. The methodology of it soothed him, provided his mornings with a small structure and routine he’d never had in a lifestyle marked by so much chaos. 
Taking the time to make his absolutely necessary coffee this way helped wake him up gently, slowed him down enough for you to have the time to slip out of bed and catch him before he was gone, to hold him while he prepared it. To remind him of the precious reason he needed to be careful while he was out that day. 
As the water boils, he turns his back to you. He feels himself melt when your arms wind around him. Softly, you press a kiss between his shoulder blades before your touch slips away as quietly as it appeared. The subtle sounds of your footsteps fading as you walk away and the gentle buzzing of the kettle are all that fill the room in the silence between you.
Namjoon sighs as he turns, his arms crossed as he leans against the counter to watch you.  Without a word, you silently procure a hearty loaf of fresh,crusty bread from the pantry and begin to slice it for breakfast. As your head tips down in concentration, he watches your untamed hair fall in your eyes. It’s beautiful the way it frames your face. It makes something squeeze in the center of his chest.
Crossing the room, he comes to stand beside you, lightly brushing your hair back into place for you with his hand. You still in your task, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.
“Namjoon?”
“Yes, baby?” 
“If it’s this dangerous…” your voice is barely above a whisper, “this unsafe… does that mean we shouldn’t have a baby?” When you look up at him, your eyes are starlit with tears. Your hands are trembling, and he hates to see you so sad.
“No. You’re ready, and I want a family,”’he soothes.
“But… but if there’s this much risk, how can our child ever have a normal life? Won’t we always be afraid for them all the time? Is that selfish? To make a life that has to live in this world just because we want them to?”
He brushes his fingers over the cascade of teardrops starting to fall from your eyes. “All parents have to worry about that, y/n. This world is still a scary place even outside my line of work.”
“I know. But they don’t have to worry about a hit on their child’s life or a ransom or generation’s old grudges putting their child at risk....They just have to worry about whether or not a child in their daughter’s class has a peanut allergy because little ashley will only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right now and nothing else.”
You’re talking with your hands as Namjoon gives you a smile that’s equally warm and sad. “That’s a really specific scenario.”
“I went through a phase in first grade, okay?”
He finds your eyes until you laugh before pulling you in tight against his chest. “First of all, that’s adorable. We’ll address that again later because little y/n sounds incredibly cute. And secondly,” he sighs,” you grew up in this world- the same as me- and we both survived. Having a child is expected of us, yes, but if that’s not what you want... it doesn’t have to happen. But, if we both want one… if being a mom will make you happy, then I’m going to find a way to give you that.” There’s a heaviness about him right now. An authority resigned to accept whatever fate weighs on your heart the most as he watches your eyes fill with questions.
“But won’t we be afraid for them all the time? I feel so naive for only thinking of how much I’d like to meet them, how much I’d love them just because they’re a part of you, when I should have known better.”
“That’s not naive. That’s beautiful. No matter what they’re like, we’ll love them. Because they’re ours.”
“What if they don’t want any part of this world? They should have a choice… but can I even give them one or will their only option be serving as the new head of the Kim family one day?” Your face looks stricken. “Did you get to choose?” Your watery eyes flit up to his. 
He swallows, face stony as you survey him. “I did what I had to do so our life can look however we want it to,” he’s sighing again, worn out out by memories you may never see. “Look, you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. As far as I’m concerned, we’re the ones get to decide what’s right for us, y/n. I’ve told you that, and I meant it- that extends to our children too. Their lives don’t have to look like what anyone else wants but them. I don’t care if they want to be painters or accountants or captains in the family. They get to shape the life they want. That’s what I’ve worked so hard for.”
You feel your eyes flutter shut in relief on their own accord. Of course he’s already thought this through to this degree. When has your Namjoon ever done anything less? It soothes your mind to know he’s taken the time to lay the groundwork so you don’t have to. Still though, questions you’re ashamed didn't occur to you sooner rattle through your head and spill from your mouth.
“Do they have to spend their life in boarding school like I did? Are our only options to send them away or be scared for them every day?
“Y/n, no. We’ll find what works for our family. I want that with you- figuring that out and watching them grow. I’ll keep you both safe. However I have to. I promise you.” His thumb brushes over your ring as he holds your hand against his chest. “I promised you.”
And just like that, it hits you all over again- how much you love this man. How deeply you trust him with every fiber of your being. How you couldn’t have found a better man to love you if you’d tried. You two are it for each other- you’ve known it since the day you met him on the steps.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles,”... but, y/n?”
Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Yes, love ?”
“I meant what I said. If this is all too much, if this scares you, we can wait.” His brown eyes are so deep and sincere. You know every part of him means it, and it’s precisely because of that, that you say the words you do.
“No. I want this. All of this. With you. We’ll figure this out,” you nod, gently pulling the back of his neck down so your foreheads are touching. “I want to have a baby with you. I’m all in, if you are.”
You can feel the rush of tension that leaves his body. He wraps you in his arms, so close and secure, and something innocent comes from him that you don’t think you’ve ever heard.
“God, you know I am. Thank you.”
His voice is as robust and full as always, but his eyes… there’s something so young and soft and terrified in them. Like the weight of all he’s been carrying alone has crashed down on him all at once. “I’m so excited to have a baby with you if it happens. And it’s okay if it doesn’t. But I can’t wait to try.”
You’re nodding and crying, and you realize something that perhaps has never dawned on you before. This is the first time you’ve seen him truly this vulnerable. He’s always so strong, so composed. Too busy holding up an entire empire and caring for you to let his walls fully fall. 
But as he buries his face in your neck, you suddenly feel dampness pooling against your skin and realize he’s crying. You wonder how you got here on a morning that had been so serene and full of bliss. Bliss you now realize has come at a price.
“I was so scared I'd lost you the day we came here.” Slipping your hand into his hair, the other soothes his back as he clings to you tighter. “I'm so glad you’re okay. You’re so smart. I know you are. You don’t make reckless mistakes when you’re out— you take good care of yourself— but I was so afraid. My heart dropped when Jungkook told me what he’d heard. He couldn’t calm me down until I heard your voice on the phone.”
Stroking his hair, you recall the phone call just a few days ago. How strangled and out of breath he’d sounded. How you’d asked if he was okay, and he’d simply said he was now.
“It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.” 
He takes a moment to collect himself, pressing you so close you may fuse together. It’s unguarded, and precious. Something you know both of you treasure as he nuzzles into your skin in that space along your neck where his face perfectly fits.
It’s as simple as that. You both stay like this for as long as you can, secure in his embrace, your breathing settling until it’s nearly in sync. It’s peaceful for you, cathartic for him. It’s a moment framed by a different kind of intimacy than the one you both shared in this very room less than an hour ago. 
He shows no sign of letting you go until the kettle begins to howl for him from across the room. When he does, his fingers trace the silk fabric along your waist as his lips kiss your forehead. He takes one more heavy breath before he squeezes you in release to tend to the coffee.
“Cream and sugar?” He asks, his voice thicker than usual.
“Always,” you answer.
And so the morning resets itself. 
The day shifts into afternoon. The sun drifting higher, brighter, casting the shadows and ridges of Namjoon’s sculpted body in almost Grecian relief as he carefully pours the water for both of you over the coffee grounds. You finish slicing the crackling bread loaf and bring it to the table to place it beside the remnants of Seokjin’s charcuterie board. 
It’s only when you catch sight of your lacy table cloth that you remember the accident that started the whole morning to begin with. You’d both gotten so preoccupied with each other that you never made it any further than cleaning his shirt and not the rest of the disaster.
Smiling to yourself, you gently slide the cloth off the table and fill the sink with cold water to soak it. Looking over at your husband, you realize wine stains still swirl over the front of Namjoon’s linen pants. There’s a very good chance those are fully set now, but just in case, you might as well try to fix them. 
So, gently, you hook a finger into his waistband and tug. “Let me have these.”
“Round two all ready? Greedy girl.” He winks, his voice soft as follows the drip of his Colombian roast.
“No, smart girl. We did a terrible job of getting you cleaned up.” You pop the p at the end of the word as you snap the elastic on his pants.
Looking a bit lost, Namjoon glances down to see the lovely pastel splashes of rosé running clean down the front of his pants. He’d been too busy to notice once you’d gotten him out of them. Blushing for no reason other than the embarrassment of you having to clean up his foibles, Namjoon dips down to remove the trousers, leaving himself looking statuesque and unreasonably gorgeous in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs in the afternoon light as he tends to the coffee.
You feel terribly immature over how quickly affected you are by the sight of him in his current predicament and carefully take the pants from him, only to turn abruptly in search of some fresh air and relief. Namjoon catches your equally flustered state, smiling to himself, but doesn’t acknowledge it out loud. This spell of quiet that’s settled over the room is too peaceful to break.
Once the coffee’s done, he brings both your cups to the broad heirloom table, and you enjoy breakfast… or, he supposes, brunch at this point...together in the stillness. Every bite you take is piled high with prosciutto and fig while Namjoon drizzles honey on his slices of bread. 
It’s peaceful, idyllic. Tranquil enough to forget the world that awaits him back in the city.
It’s funny, the duality of his life. How easy it becomes in moments like these to lean into the simplicity of breakfast with his lover and ignore the undulating danger and uncertainty awaiting him in the rest of his world. It makes him realize how much he’s come to covet exchanges like this when he gets to feel like you’re just two people in love and nothing else. 
As his eyes trace over you, he promises himself to do everything in his power to make sure your life with him is hallmarked by sweet pockets like these. As many of them as he can give you. 
At some point Namjoon pushes up to get the carafe of orange juice from the fridge, and after assigning your more capable hands the job of opening the champagne, you both polish off your brunch with the tinkling clink of your toasting mimosa glasses. 
Once your bellies are full and satiated, Namjoon looks up at you. His elbows are propped up on the table, chin contentedly resting in his hands. There’s a question hidden in the corner of his lips as his eyes glisten with mischief.
“So… what else do you have in mind for your agenda today, my bride?” He reaches across the table to grab your hand, kissing the back of your palm as you giggle and roll your eyes.
“Well if you must know... I'm thinking I might give my sister a call. See if she’d be willing to come pay me visit.” You offer, pushing one of the last grapes around the corner of the board, avoiding the way Namjoon’s eyes shine. 
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” you shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe she could come stay in one of the guest houses. Potentially. Once I move out here. Whenever that may be.” 
“So my baby won’t be alone when I’m gone?” His dimples are popping in his cheeks as his smile spreads wide. It’s a brilliant idea to bring her out here with you until Namjoon can finesse a way to be by your side 24/7. He wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner. Probably because you’re as smart as you are beautiful. 
“Neither of your babies.” You crinkle your nose as you smile back at him. 
“I like the sound of that,” he’s beaming back at you, happy and light. His eyes are misty with emotion he can’t hide, and it only makes you love him more.
“Me too.”
“So, how would you feel about getting to work as soon as possible then?” His eyebrows bounce salaciously your way, and you can’t help but giggle.
“Is that what you want?” 
“If it’s what you want. Always.” Namjoon licks his lips and a crackle of electricity shoots up your spine. The parallels to how this morning started are not lost on you. It makes something in you thrill with excitement.
“Well, I would love to take a bath. Our activity this morning was excellent, but I must say you left a bit of a sticky mess in your wake.” 
“Sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head bashfully.
“So I’m going to break in that beautiful clawfoot tub and fill it to the brim with matcha bubble bath.”
“Mmm. With the orange blossom bath salts too?”
“Always,” you wink as Namjoon bites his lip.
“God, you always smell so good when you use that. It makes your skin so soft.” The thought of your skin fragrant and bare has his blood stirring again as his eyes rake over you.
“Well you are welcome to keep me company and read to me while I soak,” you offer nonchalantly as you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your hips as you round the corner, quickly followed by the sound of his bare feet against the floorboards.
“Or I could join you in the water.”
When he responds, his voice is closer than you expected it to be. He’s caught up to you so quickly with those long legs of his.
“Or you could finish the chapter of the book you were reading to me on the way up. You left me on such a cliffhanger when your hands got distracted on the drive. I’m dying to know what happens next.”
Biting his lip, that wicked gleam is back in his eyes at the memory of the drive up and the things the two of you got up to in the privacy of the tinted, shielded back seat.
“Fair enough, but I get to join after.” His hand is forceful where it slips across your waist. You tumble into him, wanting nothing more than to let him win and start this game all over again, but you had a feeling you were winning this round, and you like to win.
“I can promise you no such thing. We’ll just have to see how the day goes,” you shrug, dismissing him completely to climb the stairs.
As much as he enjoys the view, Namjoon loves the play for dominance more: it’s cute on you. Too bad he’s still got the upper hand. He catches you on the stairwell, turning you around to face him. His hand ghosts down the front of your silk draped stomach directly to the dip between your legs.
 He places enough pressure to catch your sensitivity there, smiling something wicked at the sound of your sharp inhale. He already knows how delicate you are after you’ve already finished once until he warms your body up again. The prospect of starting this dance all over again has him stiffening with delight against your leg when he feels the familiar slip of your essence help the fabric glide beneath his touch.
“Oh baby girl, you have no idea how well this day is gonna go.” His voice has dipped to an octave reserved only for the devil as he smiles at you and lifts you off the stairs and into his arms.
You squeal at the suddenness of it, wrapping your arms securely around his neck so you don’t fall. He just chuckles, something throaty and dark, as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to the sunlit bathroom. 
Setting you on the counter, he turns to start the bath- scooping in bath salts, pouring your bubbles, raising the blinds so the room is flooded with light. He doesn’t want to miss a single look on your beautiful face when he has his way with you for a second time today.
Not once has it occurred to you to move from the spot where he put you. Instead, you sit perfectly still on the bathroom counter, feeling your nails dig into your palms, your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch him. Your pulse is already thrumming with anticipation all over again. 
When he turns back to you, you can see clear evidence of his arousal reshaping itself beneath his black briefs, and suddenly, despite your meal, there’s something else entirely that you want in your mouth. He catches the hungry way your eyes follow him as he walks back to you.
“Can I help you, baby?” His laugh is warm, even if his eyes are sinister. It’s all you can do just to nod your head and slip your fingers forward to tug at his waistband. When it begins to fall, you slip down to the floor, catching him off guard entirely. Not in a million years did Namjoon didn't plan on this course of events, but he certainly isn't unhappy about it. 
Namjoon leans back against the counter in the spot you’d just been sitting in as your hands grasp onto the muscular ridges of his toned legs. You set to work kissing his golden skin on his thighs slowly, indulgently, enjoying yourself as you go. 
You’ve always been weak in the knees for his absurdly gorgeous legs. They’ve only gotten more toned in the last year just like the rest of him, and between his dimples, his arms, his chest, and his legs, it’s hard to know where to begin. Or it would be if there wasn’t something hard and beautiful staring you in the face.
Namjoon is in heaven watching this unfold from above. When you slip him into your mouth, he feels all his rational thought go dark. He’s helpless to do anything but cave in. God, the two of you are like rabbits, but honestly, how can you not be when you make him feel like this? He begins to lose himself in the soft rhythm you create, something lazy and hypnotic, that makes him feel weightless.
He can barely hold himself, but every second is worth it. All he can do is luxuriate in the way you take your time as you bless him. At least, that’s how he always thinks of it because it’s truly nothing short of divine. 
He can’t tell if it’s been a few minutes or an eternity when all of a sudden, you’re abruptly letting him slip from your mouth with a pop and a sultry smile. The cool air rushing against him nearly startles him in the wake of the warmth he’d been cocooned in while your tongue did its incredible work. Because just as quickly as you started, you’re gone. 
He realizes then that the floor is wet. Apparently, You’d both gotten so lost in each other that the water in the tub had spilled over its edges and he hadn’t even noticed. Also, at some point during all this, you must have slipped out of your dress, because you’re lowering yourself into the water now as bare as you were on your wedding night.
Namjoon swallows. His body is ramping with endorphins, and he’s so worked up it nearly hurts. As he makes his way to the tub, you stop him with a dainty hand against his lower stomach.
“Ah, ah. I asked you to read to me.” 
Your eyes are coquettishly round as you bat them up at him. He’s tempted to scoff.
“Are you serious right now? Aren’t we in the middle of something?” His face is serious, focused as he eyes your breasts floating in the water amidst the matcha- scented bubbles.
You push back against his stomach again. “Yes, we were… in the middle of that last chapter. Book. Please.”
There it is again. The “please” he’s always been so enamored by. The “please” that’s usually the product of your need for him. The one he’s so infatuated with that he’d do anything to satisfy it. The one that, up until now, he’d thought you were unaware of, yet here you are using it against him.
That’s when he knows he’s trained you too well. There’s pride sparkling in your eyes as you look up at him, and he can’t believe it. Running a hand down his face, he shakes his head at you. What has he gotten himself into with you?
“ If that’s the way you want to play it, fine,” he squints at you with playful derision. “But I’m reading to you in the tub with you when I come back.”
“Oh please do,” you coo, batting your lashes at him.
Oh, you’re good. 
Namjoon can’t help but laugh at himself as he walks to the bedroom to collect the book. When he met you a year ago- the blushing, soft spoken girl who was too nervous to meet his eyes- he definitely never would have thought that a year later you’d be sending him down the hallway fully naked and half hard to fetch your literature for you while you float in a bath. He wonders when he got so wrapped around your finger like this, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t mind.
You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
 Being with you is the best his life has ever been. He’ll forever be grateful, that against all odds, you agreed to marry a man who was nearly a perfect stranger and create a life with him.
As he walks back to the bathroom, Namjoon catches a glimpse of your rosy smile flashing his way, peeking at him beyond the wall of bubbles. It fills his chest with something buoyant and light as he makes his way back to you.
There’s absolutely nowhere he’d rather be.
As he sinks down in the water behind you, more displaces, splashing out across the white wood beams and dousing your hair in the process. He apologizes profusely but instead of getting mad, you simply slip the rest of the way under the water to finish the job. When you resurface, you’re laughing so happily that your smile is the brightest thing in the room, putting even the afternoon sunlight to shame.
He pulls you to him, affection for you glowing warmly in his chest as you settle between his legs and look up at him. He kisses your forehead, his heart filled with contentment, before reaching forward to dry his hands on the closest available towel and thumbing through the book until he finds the page he marked.
The two of you stay that way until the chapter is finished and the book is closed. Until the bubbles all dissolve and the water’s gone cold. Even then, once the water is drained, you still stay wrapped in a tangle of Namjoon’s long limbs as you twist to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.
Eventually he straightens out his legs to allow you to climb into his lap so he can find his way home again and slip inside you. Your bodies are swathed in the golden light illuminating the room as the two of you go effortlessly slow and unhurried, taking your time . 
Namjoon sinks into you, lost in the beauty of you and your connection. 
This time, your session together is marked in emotion and security. 
He knows how much you want to start a family with him, and you know how special it was for him to let his walls down, to let you know how scared he was to lose you. Both of you are in awe of not only how attracted you are to each other, but also of the caliber of human you’re currently sharing your bodies with, of how transcendent love making can feel when your hearts and hopes are as interwoven in the act as they now are with all your cards on the table.
When Namjoon finishes this time, it’s in sync with you. It’s the first time that happened for the two of you in tandem. As your eyes search his, you're both aware that this shared state of bliss is nothing short of miraculous. As story-worthy as this act has always been between the two of, this time feels different. Markedly so.
Perhaps, it’s because you’ve both dropped your guards enough to fully let the other in, in a way you hadn’t uncovered before. If the crashing of his heartbeat has anything to say about it, Namjoon would probably guess that you've both sunken so deep into each other that it was impossible for the crescendo of your orgasms  not  to crest all at once for the both of you.
Once you’ve gathered yourself enough to speak, you watch Namjoon with dazed eyes, in awe that someone as incredible as him even exists, let alone that you get to call him yours. As he slips out of you, the warmth of his seed flows out between your thighs, and some ridiculous part of you can’t help but smile.
Namjoon catches it too, and leans forward to kiss you. 
“You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?”
Your eyes flash to meet his. Your body is spent, your emotions are big and at this point, your heart feels so filled to the brim with affection for him that you fear it won’t fit in your body anymore.
“They’re gonna be the luckiest kids in the world to have you for a dad,” you whisper with shining eyes as you touch his chest.
He dips his head, smiling so exorbitantly wide that it consumes his whole face, and all you can think is that you can’t wait to see that dimpled grin shining back at you from the face of a little boy or little girl down the road.
“By the way,” you begin as his gaze perks back up to meet yours. “You should know that we’ve tallied the votes for husband of the year.”
“Oh really?” His brows lift attentively. “Should I pack it up? Is it time to let the dream go? Surely it’s not going to a rookie this year.”
“You’d be surprised,” you tip your head. Taking his hands you place them so they’re cradling your chest. “On behalf of the board and the esteemed academy, it is my honor to present the award of husband of the year to you, Kim Namjoon.”
As he throws his head back, he bursts into a bright fit of laughter and mock cheering like you’re both surrounded by a make believe crowd. 
“Oh my goodness,” he squeezes your breasts in his palm like the globes are irreplaceable awards. “I would just like to thank all the people around the world who supported me and believed me, who shined the light of their support on me even on days when this seemed bleak. We couldn’t have made it here without you guys. This award belongs to all of you.”
He waves to the imaginary audience he’s created before pressing your breasts together and happily burying his smiling face between them. He mumbles something you can’t understand that gets lost in the downy softness of your chest as you laugh at him.
“What are you even saying down there?”
“I’m thanking the people who got me here.” He eyes you soberly like that should be obvious before breaking character and cackling at how ridiculous this is. “I can’t believe we really kept this joke going all day.”
“I can’t believe I got in the tub to clean up the mess you left earlier only to now, once again, be sticky with dried up mess.” You look ruefully between your legs.
“Hey, hey, that mess may very well become your child.” He tuts as you grin and narrow your eyes at him. 
“I don’t think that’s how this works.”
“Semantics,” he shrugs, kissing your nose. You can’t help your eye roll that follows. “Hey,” he breathes, eyes suddenly serious.
“Yes, love?” 
“Please know, whatever happens, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always take care of you. Both of you, if we’re so lucky.” The tips of his fingers rest against your lower belly, and yep. You were right. Your heart bursts clean out of your chest. You can feel the way your eyes glisten, happiness spilling from them as you get lost in Namjoon’s smile.
“I know you will, Joon. I know you will.”
-fin.
853 notes · View notes
mysticalrambling · 3 years ago
Text
Missing You (T.H)
Tom Holland Fan fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)
Summary: Tom is away for shooting and he is missing his daughter’s first easter. You and Sophia miss him terribly and he feels terrible for missing it. Sophia gets hurt during the egg hunt and Tom flies back to be with his family.
Warnings: Angst and some fluff.
._._._._.
“Daddy?” You had been folding your laundry because it was a therapeutic chore. The maid always left it for you by the end of the day because she knew that you enjoyed doing it. Your moment was interrupted by your one year old daughter barging into your room with only one question on her mind.
She had recently started walking and you were silently thankful because your over protective husband wouldn’t let her touch the ground in the fear that she would hurt herself. It even came to the point that Sophia started becoming agitated whenever he interrupted her progress. She would scream Bloody Mary when she saw him approaching with his arms outstretched. You sat him down one day and gently explained to him that we have to let her explore the world. If she falls and gets hurt, then it was our job to take care of her but we could not protect her from everything in advance.
The moment she took her first steps, they were towards Tom. You were there to record the moment and you guys were so glad that Tom had backed off a little bit. He would be there for his little princess every step of the way. If she wanted to leap, she could and he will be there to catch her if she started to fall. Sophia was the most important person in his life after you.
“Daddy is going to be here before your first Easter, bunny. Hopefully.” The last word was more of a mumble for yourself because you really hoped that he would be here. Sophia was born a few weeks after Easter so this was her first one.
“Daddy?”
Sighing, you said, “Let’s just get ready and see how cute you look in your new costume.”
“Bunny!” She ran off to her room to put her name on the and you opened your phone. Your husband told you that he would drop a text at approximately this time if he was going to make it back before the party. Disappointed, you just put the phone back on the side table.
“Okay, you need to sit tightly so that I can make your braids.” She was a hyper ball after she found the candies on the coffee table that you were going to give it to her at the party. Allergies to nuts was one of the many things that she had inherited from Tom and you never liked to take chances regarding their health. “No more sweets for you today, miss.”
“Nooooooo. Daddy!” Sophia’s voice trembled in the end because she knew that her dad would defend her. He was her knight in shining armor.
“Daddy is not here so let’s stop screaming now.” You were already in a sour mood as your husband was not with you on an important milestone. And Sophia was not making things easy for you either.
“No!”
“You are ready. I am going to give you your coloring books while I go get ready.” You did not listen to her small sniffles and went to take a shower while keeping the door open so you could keep an eye on her. When you got out, your phone was ringing and it was Tom.
“Hi. I am so sorry I can’t make it today. I tried my very best to get done with filming but it was not possible. So sorry, darling.” There was a crack in his voice that let you know that he was devastated about it.
“It’s okay, baby. There will be other Easters and you will be there for all of them. Don’t be sad, please.” You  tried cheering him up but it was not working.
Tom was always big on firsts; your first date, your first I love you’s, Sophia’s first kick, Sophia’s first tooth. He kept a record of all the moments and he was incredibly sad that he did not get to witness his child’s first Easter. Acting was something that he really enjoyed but he hated it right now. It was keeping him away from his family. He had planned everything out from where to hide all the eggs to where to buy the small bunny cupcakes that he would give to his little girl at the end of the day. This was not right but he was helpless. He could not do anything because he had an obligation to his fans as well.
“Is she wearing the costume that I ordered her?” When you mumbled out a yes, he asked, “Can you please send me a picture?”
“Soph, come and stand here. Pose for daddy.” When you sent him the picture, there was no response from his side. Seeing the picture, Tom choked back a sob. His little bunny looked incredibly cute with a white dress and a bunny ear headband. A pink tint graced her cheeks which meant that she had some candies and she had a toothy smile. Before he could say anything, the director called him back to shooting. “We will talk to daddy later. He might be busy right now.”
Tom’s mom had planned a party at her house and the whole garden was prepared for the egg hunt. You both wanted to host the party this year but Tom had to go to Cardiff last minute because of his shooting. Your siblings and nieces and nephews were all going to be there. You were happy that you got to spend this occasion with your family but you were miserable right now. Tom was not here.
“Hi. Who is this little rabbit here?” Nikki leaned in front of the toddler and squished Sophia in one of her famous bear hugs.
“Sophia Anne Holland!” There was a proud undertone to her voice because she could speak her whole name now.
“You are the cutest bunny ever.”
“I know.” You all chuckled at her haughty admission and watched as she skipped towards her cousins.
“Tom isn’t going to make it today?”
“Um no. He could not get away from work and he said to apologise on his behalf.” It was like something was missing and you didn’t want to indulge in that feeling.
“I am sorry, darling but he will make it up to you and Sophie.” You wanted to divert the topic so you started to talk about the guests and the decorations.
Pretty soon, you started mingling with the people and they always asked about Tom. You either replied to them or politely redirected the conversation. It felt weird being at a gathering without Tom. You haven’t done that from the past five years and you realised you didn’t much enjoy it now. Keeping an eye on Sophia was hard because it was usually Tom who performed that duty. You were given a free pass at parties from all the responsibilities and were allowed to enjoy every moment. He was always considerate towards you and that is why you loved him to death.
“Sophia, you can not go near the pool.” You caught her in your arms before she could fall in.
“Dada swimm- swimming.” Tommy was the one who was teaching her to swim because it was a hobby that he wanted his daughter to adopt from him. When she saw the water, she thought that her dad will be there to teach her.
“When dad comes back, you can go swimming.” Sophia still kept looking around for her father because this is the longest she has been away from him. Her toddler mind thinks that if she goes to do things that they do together, he will come to her. You couldn’t even get angry at her for wandering around the house without anyone. Hugging her, you tried to distract her, “Now, granny is having an egg hunt and we need to win it, okay bubs?”
“Win!!” You took her in your arms and went towards the garden where all the people were.
“Look, Tom. (Y/N) is here.” A phone was shoved in to your face by Sam and you saw Tom’s face on the screen.
“Hi. I was calling you and you didn’t pick up. I wanted to see Sophie on the egg hunt.” There was a look of longing on his face.
“I was busy with your daughter. She was running near the swimming pool and wanted to get in because she thought that you would be there to teach her.”
“Is she alright? Let me see her.” You angled the phone towards your shoulder where she was leaning on him. “Hey, baby.”
“Hi. Back?” Tom wanted nothing more than to hold his daughter in his arms and his heart broke when his daughter asked him that question. It meant that he was away too long because she never asked that question before. She didn’t need to.
“I’ll be back in no time and then we will go swimming. Promise.”
“Yes.” She hopped down from your arms and went to the start line of the race.
“How have you been?”
“Just missing you a lot and handling Soph is getting harder by the day.” You moved to a more secluded place on the ground so you could talk to your husband.
“I am sorry, darling. When I come back, you can have the whole weekend off.”
“Just come back. I want to spend sometime with my husband.”
“That is a tempting offer but I have to stay here a little longer. But when I come back, we will do more than spend sometime together.”
“I will look forward to it. The game is starting so I have to go.” You were about to end the call but he stopped you.
“I want to see her and I have a break for another twenty minutes.”
“Okay.”
The race soon started and among all her cousins, Sophia was the youngest and the most hyper. You cheered her on with her grandparents and Tom. She was about to win the race and you were more excited than her. Tommy wanted to be there to witness her first victory but he settled down for seeing it on the phone. However, she stumbled on some rocks that were on the trail and she fell hard.
“Oh my god! Go to her, (Y/N).” Tom’s voice broke you out of your horrified trance and you went in to autopilot. When you reached near her, you gave the phone to someone behind you and kneeled in front of your daughter. She was crying really loudly and her arms was bent to an odd angle. Cuddling her in your arms, you picked her up and went towards your car. “What is happening? Mum, tell me!”
“I think Sophie’s arm is broken. (Y/N) is taking her to the hospital right now. I will keep you updated.” Nikki was moving quickly towards her car while she gripped the phone in her hands.
“Mum, I want to talk to my daughter right now.” He didn’t even realise that he was pacing and his hair was all messed up because he ran his hands through it several times.
“Tommy, I will keep you updated. Right now, she is a lot of pain and she is scared.”
“Please keep me informed.” This was one of the worst moment in his life because he wasn’t there for his girls. You both needed him right now and he wasn’t there. He decided then and there that he was going back to London.
Meanwhile, you reached the hospital with Sophia wailing in your arms and Sam driving like a cray man. You were sure that he would have multiple speeding tickets waiting for him when he gets home. The E.R was busy at this time of the day and you just laid your daughter on one of the beds while Nikki went to go get a doctor.
“Honey, it’s going to be okay. Please be strong, baby girl.” There were tears in your eyes as your daughter’s face turned red with all the crying and screaming. The little girl was in too much pain.
“Daddy, plea- please. Hurts a lot.” Hiccuping in the middle of the sentence, you looked at your brother in law helplessly. She wanted Tom and he wasn’t here right now.
“We will talk to daddy after the nice doctor here checks you out, baby.” She wouldn’t let anyone near her or her arm and kept asking for her father, She was inconsolable.
Sitting in front of the bed, the doctor asked, “Hi, I am Dr Ana. What happened to this little bunny here?”
“She, uh, she fell during the race and I think she broke her arm.” You stood on the foot of the bed as you shakily explained the whole situation. “Soph, let her check your boo boo please.”
“Daddy, please.”
“Okay, let me call your dad and you can talk to him.” Nikki interjected when she saw that the conversation was not reaching any end point.
“Okay.” You wiped her snot with your sleeves as she clutched her broken arm in pain.
“Tom, talk to Sophia. She is not letting the doctors treat her.” Putting the phone on speaker, Tom’s voice filtered through the phone.
“Hey bubs. You need to let the doctor check you and make the boo boo alright.” His soothing voice brought tears to your eyes as you wanted nothing more than to hold his hand right now.
“It hurts. Back please?”
“I am coming back right now so you need to let the doctor check your arm. I will be there in no time.”
“Okay.” The moment the doctor started examining her arm, you took the phone from your mother in law.
“It’s going to be okay. You don’t have to come back.” You sniffled a little as the doctor got a portable x-ray to check up on Sophia’s arm. She held on to your hand tightly as even the little movement hurt her.
“I am. In fact, my flight is already confirmed. I will be there in four hours, tops.”
Tom declined the call as his manager called him downstairs. Getting in to the car, he just prayed to God that his little girl would be okay. He swore mentally that he would never let Sophia run. He should have been there and he was going to never leave his family’s side ever again.
“I have given her some pain meds for her pain so she should be settling down now.” Sophia was moved to a pediatric room and now she was calming down a little bit. “What color cast do you want, Miss Holland?”
“Pink.” She stated as a matter of fact and you lightly laughed. Nikki and Sam were in the room as well and they were staying till Tom got here. The pain medication slowly started working and Soph drifted off to sleep with Mr Fluffs in her arms.
“We are going to get coffee and then we can get you a change of clothes. Do you want something else?” Whispering, Nikki placed a hand on your shoulder.
“I am fine. I just need the clothes and can you please bring some for Tom as well. I know he would come straight here from the airport.”
“Okay, darling. Take care and call us if something happens.”
“Okay, thank you.” You put your head on the bed and drifted off to sleep.
Tom entered the hospital and the receptionist guided him towards Sophia’s room. Quietly steeping in there, he saw his two girls sleeping. Sophia looked so tiny in that patient bed and he never wanted to see her there. When he got close, he saw dried tears on his little girl’s cheek and his heart broke when he thought about the pain that she was in. The pink cast was set on her right arm and he want to her side and gently kissed it.
“I am so sorry baby, I wasn’t here. I won’t ever leave you again, I promise.”
“You are back.” The commotion in the room woke you up and you saw your husband right in front of you.
“Just got in.” Tom’s eyes never left the tiny human being laying underneath the sheets. “(Y/N), she is never running again.”
“Honey, children get hurt all the time. She will recover in no time.”
“But-”
“Dadda!” Your baby jumped in to his arms before any of you realised what was happening. Her cast bumped on to the iron rod of the bed and she let out a blood curling scream.
“Call the doctor. It’s okay, bubs. You are going to be okay.” Kissing her cast, he tried to calm down the crying toddler. Meantime, you went to call Dr Anna so that she could check Sophia’s arm.
“It is all fine. You just need to be really careful with that arm. We are going to keep her here for one day and then you both can take your little girl home.”
You took Sophia from your husband and told him to go change in to comfortable clothes. When he came back, you both settled on the small bed and your daughter told him all about the injury and the pain. You both signed her pink cast and Tom also drew some rainbows and birds on it. Soon, it was time for her to take her medicines and you had to bribe her with chocolates, She always got her way.
“I love you, baby. Go to sleep now.” He wrapped the blanket around her and switched off all the lights.
“Love you. Be here?”
“Yes, I will be here darling. Now, sleep.” Sophia soon drifted off to sleep and Tom sat beside you on the couch.
“I missed you, Tommy.”
“I missed you too and I am never leaving you both for this long. Now, let’s go to sleep. It has been a tiring day.” Pecking him on the lips, you both laid down and just basked in each other’s warmth. Contented, you drifted off to sleep with your husband and child in the same room. Everything was going to be okay.
Hope you guys enjoyed it!!
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A/N: I loved to write about Tom Holland as a family man. Tell me how you guys feel about it and I am open to requests regarding dad Tom. If you want to be added to my tag list, comment down below.
Like, comment and reblog.
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morsartis · 3 years ago
Text
The Bets Are On
You didn't always get dragged along on tours with Marvus, preferring to stay away from the sheer chaos of the limelight. It wasn't that you hated it but you certainly weren't a big fan of having Marvus within reach and yet still not being able to see him. The packed schedule that came with his tours were a drag and you weren't even bound by them. But Ourani and Revell had both asked you to be there, it was important that Marvus and his band were seen in a positive light while on an Earth bound tour. A surprising side effect of the current alliance between the two was the fact bands were allowed to perform on both planets for the first time. It was an opportunity that no one in the entertainment industry could pass up on- not even Marvus. Which was why you were there- they were trying to involve as many humans as possible as a show of good faith. Revell had been the most excited about it as the band's human sensitivity trainer. The fact he wasn't even human in the first place was both amusing and a glaring sign of Alternia's many problems. It'd be insulting if Revell wasn't so serious about his job, often consulting as many humans as he possibly could over the most minute detail and advocating for an actual human to do the training instead of himself. Unfortunately his hands were tied on that front.
Lost in your own thoughts you nearly fell off the chair you were sitting in when Ourani slammed the door to the break room open looking frazzled. His usually slightly wrinkled but tidy clothes were a wreck- tie askew and shirt buttoned wrong with his hair sticking up at odd angles. He looked like he'd survived a mob. "Thaaaat's it! I caaaan't do this aaaanymore! Maaaarvus is driving me to drink!" He shrieked the second the door swung closed behind him. You winced slightly and gave him a sympathetic smile.
"How I've laaaasted this long is aaaa daaaamn mystery!" He continued tossing his clipboard onto the table. You could only imagine what he'd been having to deal with.
"What did he do this time?"
"Whaaaat did he do this time? This time? Its less whaaaat he’s done aaaand more whaaaat he’s going to do! He purposely faaaailed every single humaaaan sensitivity course he waaaas instructed to taaaake! Do you haaaave aaaany ideaaaa how haaaard it waaaas to even get him to those courses? Its like trying to herd feraaaal purr-beaaaasts!” He all but wailed sinking down into the chair opposite from you. It creaked under his weight- built more for humans than adult trolls- and you feared it might collapse under the poor rust blood. The last thing he needed to happen when he was already this close to a break down.
“I know I talk a lot of shit about Marvus but he can’t be that bad.”
Those were clearly the wrong words to say to Marvus’ top personal assistant as Ourani looked at you with an expression bordering on murderous and manic.
“Oh, you think so huh? You think you caaaan haaaandle being Maaaarvus’ Personaaaal Aaaasistaaaant? You think you can do better thaaaan I caaaan? Fine! Why don’t you do my job todaaaay then? He’s got aaaa full schedule aaaand haaaas aaaalreaaaady shown signs of trying to blow it aaaall off!”
“Uh-,”
“Even better ideaaaa! We’ll maaaake aaaa bet out of it. If you caaaan get Maaaarvus to staaaay on traaaack I’ll paaaay some of thaaaat debt you owe to Gorjek.”
“Wh-,”
“Aaaand if you lose? I’ll finaaaally quit!” He was grinning wildly now, eyes bright with glee at the thought of quitting.
“How about if I win you just schedule Marvus a little down time?” You offered instead. Trying to hopefully keep him from losing it further.
“Fine.” He replied looking slightly less like he might jump over the table and throttle you or the next person to walk into the break room. With a more steadying breath Ourani extended his hand to shake on the bet and you gladly took it. Anything to keep him from going full American Psycho on everyone there. You both nearly lept out of your skins when his phone went off to let him know his short break was over. "How about that bet starts now and you go home to get some actual sleep?" You offered, Ourani nodded vigorously to that already shoving his clipboard into your hands. He couldn't seem to get out of there fast enough it seemed. You hoped he'd get some actual rest, the poor guy was one of the most overworked people on the job. Glancing down at the clipboard you winced. Ourani really wasn’t kidding when he said Marvus had a full schedule, looks like you could kiss any other plans you had today goodbye. Straightening out your clothes you went to go find Marvus- wherever he could have gotten. Most likely he wouldn’t be trying to hide from you. He’d be expecting Ourani to be the one trying to hunt him down.
You’d been wandering for five minutes when you finally found him. He was actually where he was supposed to be- chatting with his bandmates who immediately perked up to see you.
“Oh shit! Look who it is.”
“Hey guys, mind if I steal Marvus away for a second?” You asked cheerfully. His bandmates had a soft spot for you and it was easy to get them to agree. Their soft spot would make this bet a little easier to win, hopefully.
“Whatchu need babes?” Marvus asked once the two of you had gotten far enough away. You smiled up at him warmly. "Well, first off-," You grabbed the sides of his purple jacket to pull him down closer to your height, "I'd like a kiss." "Shit babe, all you had ta do was ask." He grinned leaning into you. His arm carefully wrapped around your waist as he tilted your chin up to get better access. You huffed a small laugh as he gave your lip a small nip before kissing you. Letting your eyes close for a brief moment to fully enjoy the kiss you cupped his jaw with your hands before regretfully having to pull back- Marvus attempting to follow you. "Secondly," You murmured interrupted by another brief kiss, "You have a meeting in two minutes." "What." You grinned at his flat off guard tone. Not being able to help yourself as you giggled. "I have your entire schedule for the day." "No."
"Mm, yes."
"Babe-,"
"You also have a meeting with Revell to talk about those courses you flunked out of."
"How-,"
"Ourani went home for the day, I'm gonna be your PA so he can actually get some sleep."
"Oh?"
"Don't get any ideas." You interrupted already knowing where his mind was going, "I'm going to make sure you get through your entire schedule whether you like it or not."
"C'mon, just give me an hour." "I might consider it-," He grinned, "After we get through your schedule."
Marvus pouted.
“Work Marvus. Focus on work.”
“Aww, but you be lookin’ so cute when you take charge.”
“And you’ll be a lot more appealing when you actually do your job.”
“Damn.” He muttered under his breath already standing back up to his full height. “Alright baby, guess we cans go to this meeting.”
It looked, at least for the moment, you might actually win this bet.
Then again, you had yet to get him to go to his meeting with Revell. For some reason those two couldn’t stand each other- you’d zoned out briefly during one of his rants only catching something vague about their ancestors that only confused you more. Revell was actually a kind troll though his threshold for what he dubbed ‘highblood nonsense’ was practically nonexistent. He seemed rather fascinated by human culture, often asking you questions on things he didn’t quite understand- some of his questions not even you could answer with any degree of accuracy. But, Marvus and him were known for their fights. Not even in the pitch leaning way either. You had yet to witness their fights but Ourani had talked about them looking pale and shaky- considering the fact that he’d been witness to the usual Alternian concert slaughter fests that happened with Marvus you had to admit you were afraid to see what could shake him like that. If Marvus' PR team was surprised to see him actually at the meeting they didn't say, though they seemed happy to see you with him. Taking your seat next to Marvus you glanced down at the schedule again. He had this meeting, his meeting with Revel, an autograph signing, and then a meeting with a lesser known human band you hadn't even heard of. Knowing Marvus all of these would be a few hours each.
“You bein’ awfully quiet over there.” Marvus murmured to you while his PR team bickered. You glanced up from the clipboard you’d been staring a hole through to give him a flat look. Better to not put him on edge.
“Just trying to figure out how to get you from point A to point B.”
“C’mon baby I ain’t that bad.”
“Ourani would beg to differ.”
“Then he can fuckin’ beg.”
You smacked his arm earning a small chuckle as he turned back to the meeting.
This was going to be a very long day.
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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years ago
Note
Hey. Can I request bucky barnes x male reader where the reader gets injured on a mission and bucky freaks out about it with the “Oh shit, is it that bad? Am I gonna die?” prompt. And can they already be in a relationship. Thank you
This was a good request, thanks.
That said, why is it harder to write something if there is more information???
This one didn't give me an immediate idea to follow through on, but I think it turned out alright.
Let me know if this wasn't quite what you wanted and I will be happy to have another go.
Stealth Mission
Bucky Barnes x Male Reader
Word Count: 1611
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The mission was supposed to be a stealth one. It was meant to be simple, sneak in, steal some information, sneak back out with no-one any the wiser for it.
Funny how the universe likes to laugh at people who make plans.
You roll your eyes at your thoughts as you gather your breath, and your courage. You were pinned behind a series of crates in what was clearly some sort of storage area. The bullets stop flying in your direction for a second. It sounds like the Hydra guys were reloading.
You leap out and unleash a hail of bullets at the men standing by the door. To your unending relief there are only two, both of whom were reloading. Thank God for sloppy trade craft. It takes a depressingly little amount of time to down them after that.
'Two down, one whole compound to go,' you think sarcastically to yourself.
"Hey, anyone out there still?" You put a shaking hand up to your earpiece. You had never been so thankful to hear Steve's voice before.
You tapped your comm to activate it.
"Yeah, I'm in some sort of storage area inside. No idea how many are left outside. Things aren't looking great from here."
You hear Steve sigh into his own comm.
"Y/N, Thank God. Buck would'a killed me if you'd gone down out here."
"Come on Steve, you know that's between me and Barnes."
You smirk to yourself and picture Steve's face at your comment. You don't normally tease the conservative man but it helped to steady your nerves the moment.
"Alright, I'm gonna head out of here, see if I can still salvage this mission. Let me know if anyone else responds."
Caps affirmative is ringing in your ears as you pull yourself back together. You still had a job to do here, there wasn't anything else for it.
You crept closer to the only exit in the room. Your heart was pounding too loud in your ears. This was annoying but adrenaline was running high after you were surprised earlier.
Luckily the hall was empty. It seemed that the other Hydra agents were a bit preoccupied somewhere else.
'Hopefully that means that someone else is still kicking. My bet's on Nat.'
It doesn't take long to find the right room this time. You internally promise yourself to pay more attention to blueprints next time, as you make your way into the room and over to one of the computers.
You were grateful once again that you had started out your illustrious career as a hacker. A few not so minor indiscretions had landed you in some pretty hot water before you hacked into the wrong server and caught shield's attention. Several years and some serious spy training later, here you were.
Your comm crackled as you tapped away at the keys of the computer. You put your hand back up to your comm and listened as Steve relayed that everyone else had checked back in with him.
You breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone was still alright.
"Roger that, I'm almost done here, I'll meet back out front--"
You cut off with a gasped cry of pain. You hadn't noticed the person slip in through the broken window while listening to Steve talk. You had completely missed them as they moved over on silent feet. In fact, you only noticed them as they slipped a dagger in between two of your ribs.
Distantly you could hear Steve calling out to you through your comm, but you were just a little distracted by the searing pain in your side.
You could tell immediately that whoever this person was, they didn't want to kill you outright. With how silent they were coming in and how preoccupied you had been, they had had the opportunity to slit your throat. They hadn't, which was pretty telling.
If you didn't get out of here soon you would either end up as a hostage to make the others give themselves up, or you would be tortured for information.
Not great odds then.
Using the opposite side's arm you managed to elbow them in the face. Their nose made the most satisfying crunch as it broke.
You spun and took advantage of their surprise to kick them back toward the broken window. Seeing the best chance at getting out of this situation alive, you didn't hesitate to give them a second harder kick to the chest. They went out flailing for anything to hold onto.
There was a yell and a loud thud as they hit the ground some several floors below.
You held your breath as you limped your way over there. You had to be sure that they weren't still a danger.
Yep, there they were, laid out on the ground, limbs at awkward angles that would be bad if it weren't for the large puddle of blood forming under them.
You let out your breath in a rush.
There was a ringing in your ears that was not great, and the world seemed to be spinning. You stumbled back over to the desk and the computer.
You grabbed the piece of tech that you had been loading the information onto and made your way heavily out of the room.
Something made you look up. You were glad that you did, Steve was coming toward you but there was something wrong with him. He was opening and closing his mouth like he was trying to talk, but nothing was coming out.
You squint at him in confusion, but you didn't have to worry about it for long. The darkness descends just as he reaches you and you know nothing more.
----------------
Bucky Barnes was not someone who was known for showing a lot of emotions. Not anymore anyway. He was slowly getting better, but it was just too easy to stay emotionally frozen.
He had been that way for literally years, and it had taken meeting one of the agents at shield to really start to shake him out of it. The Y/H/C haired man had quickly wormed his way into Bucky's frozen heart and refused to leave.
Naturally, having grown up in the 1920's and 30's, Bucky had known he shouldn't want this man the way he did. However, he had lived in Brooklyn, arguably the Gay Capital of the World at the time.
The only way he wouldn't have had at least one experience back then was if he was as oblivious as Steve had been.
In any case it hadn't taken him long to know that he had to ask you out. Getting up the courage had been the difficult thing. You had surprised him by showing up earlier the same day with a box and asked to talk to him alone.
You had put the box on his bed and said that you had wanted to ask him out for a while now, and only just gotten up the courage. The box was a gift which was his whether he wanted to go out with you or not.
Bucky had known that that was the best chance he would ever have, but was curious. He had opened the box to find a big fluffy sweater and fluffy reading socks. He had melted. You were literally the best person in the world - sorry Steve.
Bucky was decidedly not emotionless now however.
You had been brought in from your latest mission unconscious, and had to be rushed to the medical wing Tony kept in his huge tower.
(A/N Yes, we are pretending that they are all friends)
Objectively Bucky was sure that you would be fine, but he couldn't help but worry. You had never looked so small, lying there with soot from who knew what on your face and blood covering a large portion of your shield issued clothing.
Bucky was doing his best not to annoy the medical staff while he waited for you to wake up, but it hadn't worked at all. He had been banished from the area until you were awake to deal with him.
So now he was annoying everyone else.
"Shit Steve, is he going to be okay? Is he going to die? Oh God, what if he dies?"
Poor Bucky was in tears and pacing up and down the communal living space as he waited for news.
Even Sam had the good sense not to provoke Bucky right now.
Apparently Natasha didn't get the memo though.
"Barnes. He's a trained agent. This is a part of the job. Grow a pair and wait for news before writing him off entirely. Besides, Y/N's a fighter, he won't give up like this. He knows you're waiting for him. He won't let you down."
Bucky stared at her, shocked. Nat was notoriously few of words. That was practically a monologue from her.
"Good," she nodded, satisfied that she had gotten through to him. "If you can't calm down and wait for news like a normal person, why don't you go find Clint and stuff him into a vent to find out what's going on in real time."
With that Natasha floated over to the couch and flipped the TV onto her latest binge show.
Steve watched as Bucky stood in shock for a minute longer, before bolting out of the room, most likely in search of their team archer.
"That was mean. He's not even going to be able to explain what he wants properly with how out of it he is right now."
Nat looked over her shoulder at Steve with a smirk.
"Just a little revenge that I owed Clint."
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comfortwriting · 4 years ago
Text
I Wanna Be Your Dog - G.W
George Weasley X Fem Reader one shot/imagine inspired by the song ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog’ by The Stooges.
About: You bring your best friend George along with you to a muggle rock n roll gig, both of you get heavily intoxicated, George gets overprotective after another guy tries to chat you up. The two of you go back to your place afterwards, getting into a steamy situation.
Warnings: 18+!! Alcohol and intoxication, heavy smut, unprotected rough sex, choking and ‘foul’ language.
“That was bloody mental” George slurred, already drunk from all the pre-drinks you both necked down before the gig.
You wanted to let loose for one evening after studying so hard and what better way to reward yourself for your N.E.W.T.S results than going to a local gig with your best friend and sharing some drinks?
You giggled taking a sip of your cider “just you wait, that was just the opening band!” you leaned into George feeling buzzed, you missed the atmosphere of a show: the bright lights in a blacked out room, being one in the crowd, the smell coming from the fog machines, the loud blaring music, making a connection with the musicians and getting your ‘rock on’ with everyone else in the crowd.
“There's more?” George asked excitedly beaming down at you, you forgot that he wasn’t used to muggle music, bands, gigs, you wouldn’t be surprised if his father studied just the idea of such an experience.
You nodded and stared into his gorgeous deep brown eyes, looking down at George’s empty cup you offered to buy him another (you would need it to get you through the rest of the night at this rate, you didn’t want your buzz to die down) you pushed through the overflowing crowd trying not to bash or elbow anyone too hard, squeezing through you kept muttering out “I’m sorry!” “Just passing through!” 
By the time you reached the bar the main act were already powering through their set list, you felt bad for leaving George but you knew he would be enjoying himself either way.
The floor was sticky from the spilled alcohol and your shoes kept sticking down to the floor, you felt like you were in space boots every time you tried to lift up your feet and with the spinning of the room you gripped onto the bar to steady yourself.
“Can I grab two double vodka’s and coke, please” you yelled over the music to the bar man, choosing the first drink that popped into mind, you could feel someone closing in on you, their hot breath and body heat against your back.
“Mind if I pay?” a unfamiliar gruff voice asked.
You slowly stood up straight and took a deep sigh, turning around you were met with the stranger who butted in. He pulled some pound notes out of his pocket and pushed them over towards the bar man.
The man had dark black hair that started to grey at the roots and odd strands here and there, you could tell he must be older than you, greying or not his wrinkles spoke for him.
He towered over you and smiled “both for you?”
You shook your head and answered him quickly, hoping the bar man would hurry up or the man would get distracted “No, me and my boyfriend” you lied, although you and George were best friends you had slept together plenty of times and it often felt as if you were dating - but you had never brought it up, you both liked everything how it was.
The man chuckled and moved closer to you, the bar man placed the drinks next your arm on the side “is that so?” he asked, thinking you were lying to get away from him. He nodded and pursed his lips “playing hard to get, I like it” he pushed a stray hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek with his thumb “has anyone ever told you how sexy you are?” he blurted out, unashamed.
You couldn’t believe your ears, you couldn’t believe the cheek of this man, you cowered at his touch. 
“Has anyone ever told you to piss off?” you heard George shout over the music, standing next you, staring down the man. 
You thanked whichever lords above that George decided to come and search for you. “Who the fuck are you?” the man laughed at your best friend, moving away from you.
George pulled you into him, his hand sneaking around your waist, you didn’t want any trouble but you knew George wouldn’t shy away from confrontation if it was about something serious. 
“I’m her boyfriend, now bugger off before you get my foot up your arse” George threatened him, his grip on your waist tightening.
The man sported a furious look upon his sweaty wrinkled face “you wanna fucking go mate?” he yelled at George pointing a finger at him “all this over some slag?” he insulted you. 
You and George, now both just as furious went red in the face. You spotted your drinks on the side and without thinking, breaking from George’s grip you picked up your drinks and threw them in his face, causing George to let out a shocked but surprising laugh.
The two of you ran as fast as your legs could carry you past the overflowing crowd, hearing complaints and insults follow you. Breaking free into the dark night, the cold air engulfed you, waking you up slightly from your drunken daze. 
Holding out your hand spotting a black cab the two of you hopped in and went back to your parents place.
George apologised continuously on the way home, feeling like he was the one who ruined your evening, but if anything he made it so much better than what it could’ve turned out to be.
“I just can’t believe that arsehole called you such a thing and put a hand on you!” He whispered sternly, entering the kitchen, he walked over to the stairs and stopped before walking up them. “Are you okay?”
“It’s okay Georgie, really.” You whispered back, you pushed past him, grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs quietly, trying not to wake anyone up “I’m fine”
You both entered your large bedroom, the pine green walls covered in pictures of you and George and posters of the band you saw tonight, little round orange fairy lights dangling from your curtain rail. Your bed in the middle of the room against the wall, waiting for you and George.
So messed up, I want you here In my room, I want you here Now we're gonna be face-to-face And I'll lay right down in my favourite place
“I can’t stand it when men think they can touch you like that, it makes my skin crawl.” George muttered, starting to calm down upon entering your room, he shut the door slowly and quietly behind him.
“Only you can touch me like that” you whispered in his ear, nibbling at his lobe gently.
George let out a shaky moan, your sudden advance caused his breath to get stuck in his throat for a moment. 
“You’d be furious if I ended up going home with him and I was planning to if you didn’t come and get me” you teased him “he told me I was sexy.”
George glared and grabbed you by the throat, you always loved making him jealous, especially in the bedroom.
He walked you over to the bed, George pushed you down on it, his hand gripped around your throat causing you to feel slightly light headed. His possessiveness and jealousy that caused these outbursts in his behaviour turned you on more than anyone ever could. 
He removed his hand from your throat, causing you to breathe out in desperation for air, whilst allowing the incredible rush to flow through your head, the tingling and spinning sensations exciting you even more. 
“Is that what you want? another man fucking you?” George questioned, yanking at the silver zip on your black faux leather mini skirt and pulling them down your legs, his hand moved up in between your inner thighs “no one can make you cum like I can” he growled, slapping your clit through your underwear before yanking those off too “you dirty girl.”
And now I want to be your dog Now I want to be your dog Now I want to be your dog Well, come on
You moaned staring down at the gorgeous lad now in between your legs, teasing you with his tongue, his hot breath warming you up and his silky saliva coating your clitoral hood and running down in between your folds.
George stroked you gently with his long fingers, spreading his saliva equally around your heat, causing you to moan out in pleasure “not too loud you plonker, your parents are two doors down” he told you off before suddenly plunging two fingers inside of you, switching between fingering you and repeating the ‘come here’ motion with his fingers to try and make you squirt whilst taking turns eating your cunt and sucking your clit. 
George was doing this on purpose, pleasuring you beyond belief when you were forced to keep quiet. You pulled his long hair and your back arched, he could feel your walls tightening around his fingers and he knew you were getting close so he withdrew his coated fingers and pulled himself away, his lips red and wet from his hard work. 
You pouted and let out a whine, ”George that isn’t fair” you tried to crawl over to George and help him take off his belt but he refused and slapped you away.
 “you’ll touch me when you’re told to.”
George took off his shirt, his belt and removed his trousers, then taking off his boxers his erection slapped against his lower stomach. Your mouth filling up with saliva, if you were to open your gob your drool would turn to laces. You removed your perfume drenched band shirt and dropped it on the carpet, George’s hungry, lustful gaze turned to you, he crawled on top of you, kissing up your body. 
“Turn over” he growled “get on all fours.”
Doing as you were told you could hear George spitting into his hand as he rubbed his saliva against your entrance, using his hard cock to stroke up against it before entering you. You gasped out in shock, squeezing your eyes shut to adjust to his size, George grabbed you by the hair, parting them into pony tails to use as his handlebars. 
“Only I can make you feel this good” he growled lowly in your ear “tell me!” he demanded.
With George grabbing your hair and pulling you back at such an angle it was hard for you to utter a word, you were only just managing to breathe. Thinking you were ignoring him, George spanked your arse with rage, causing you to squeal out in pain loudly, feeling the sting and heat he smiled at his handprint quickly appearing on your now sore arse cheek. 
“Keep it down!” he hissed at you, pounding you even harder.
Your lips were turning blood red from the biting to hold in your moans. George suddenly stopped and flipped you over, leaning over you and kissing you, tasting yourself on his lips turned him on all the more. George grabbed your smooth legs and placed them over his shoulders, pushing himself even deeper inside you as he pulled you closer to him causing the two of you to moan out.
George grabbed your throat again and held a firm grip over your artery restricting your blood flow, “dirty fucking slut” he grunted, fucking you fast, deep and hard. 
You looked into his lustful eyes, desperate for air, your eyes tearing up and your face going red, knowing you’d get him closer you tried to mutter “please...George..” but it proved to be too difficult against his grip.
Now I'm ready to close my eyes And now I'm ready to close my mind And now I'm ready to feel your hand And lose my heart on the burning sands
Beads of sweat dripped down his soft head, his hair sticking to him, panting rapidly he lulled his head back giving it his all before letting go of your throat, smashing his soft lips against yours he spilled himself inside of you, filling you with his warm liquid.
The two of you lay next to one another on your comfy, now drenched bed, staring up at the ceiling catching back your breaths. George sat up slowly, still recovering from what felt like the race of his life - a marathon for you - he eyed you up and gently pulled you into a cuddle. “Are you okay?” he asked “you aren’t hurt are you?” he looked at your neck, worried he left any marks or caused damage. 
And now I want to be your dog And now I wanna be your dog Now I want to be your dog Well, come on
You shook your head and smiled at him coming down from your high “I’m all good but my arse hurts” you laughed softly, laying in his arms “one hell of a slap you gave it” 
George went red and apologised but you shushed him and giggled, letting out a yawn you pulled the covers over the two of you and you put your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Tonight was incredible” you said sleepily “thank you for everything, George.”
He smiled and his heart warmed at the sight of you cuddling into him, he held your hand and kissed your head softly “I love you” he hummed, closing his eyes. 
“I love you too” you replied, copying him, drifting off to sleep.
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itstheimpossibledream · 3 years ago
Text
Only A Play
Part 5 
Word Count: 2213
Pairing: AU Henry x FemBlack!Reader
Warning:  Smut, Angst, Some fluff
Summary:  Can reader & Henry work out their differences or will they be better apart? Breakup sex? Idk it’s the finale let me know what you think!
“ and that’s when I packed my things and came to New York.” Henry finishes.
 You’d been looking down at your hands, trying not to get lost in his features while he spoke, knowing the tabloids would make a day out of it. Angling the photograph and captioning it something cheesy about ‘love being in the air’ or the fact that you’re ‘just in time for Valentine’s Day’. The dating speculations you could take but, the photographic evidence that made your mom ask questions was a different story entirely.Since the show had opened the two of you toured from interview to interview and then performed at night. The day usually culminating in a needy fuck at his apartment or in your dressing room if he couldn’t wait. You stayed at his place often and while it was still mostly in booty-call  territory, (despite the previous year of apartment crashing and drunk declarations of love) the dinners and breakfasts remained consistent. You answered the interviewer’s questions calmly but,nothing could have prepared you for the final follow up. He turns to Henry, “And so aside from your new relationship(he motions to you),have you made any other friends during your time in New York?” He only hesitated slightly,before answering. He smirks but,the curve of his lip is gone before you know it. “I have really enjoyed working with her, and I hope our artistic relationship will flourish long after this production has ended.” he smiles diplomatically while reaching for your hand.“As far as new friends I believe my doorman Jason and I have gotten pretty close.” he laughs. When he laughs, the whole world laughs with him and the audience is no exception.Eventually , the hours of embarrassment have passed and you’re being rushed back into a cab to Henry’s apartment. 
“So what was that?” you say as he closes the door, sliding into the car behind you. 
“What?” he asks blissfully unaware of your annoyance. 
“That whole continuing relationship thing?”you push.
“I said artistic relationship.” he corrected sternly.
 “ You gave them ammo.” you cut back quickly.
“And so what? Two people in a romantic play together are speculated to date?How awful.” He grumbles. 
“You don’t get to make a choice like that before talking to me about it.”
“It wasn’t a choice, it was the truth.” he quips back sternly.
“A truth that will put the tabloids on my ass.It’s been bad since we opened the show but, you and I both know this is only going to make it worse.” you mirrored his tone, clearly losing your cool at the idea of being followed to your apartment by cameras. 
“Well you can stay with me as long as you need.” He says, firmly setting his jaw.You roll your eyes towards the window, Watching the people who pass by. 
“So, this is what it was about? control ?”
“Please!” He scoffs “I don’t need the paparazzi holding your apartment hostage,to get you to stay at my place.You’re practically there every night anyway.” It comes out sounding like more of a complaint than he had meant for it to. Your blood boils with resentment of his comfortability.You can feel the heaviness in your eyes when the car pulls up to his ‘flat’. A term you had started using sarcastically but had slowly begun to stick. Even now, you despised that while being a convenient fuck , he had permeated your subconscious enough to make you even think to refer to it as a flat. 
“What’s on your mind?” he finally asked, breaking the silence that had been holding court in the elevator. He didn’t sound like he really wanted to know, infact he seemed like he was solely asking for courteous purposes and that was it. You turned your entire body to face him, you could feel that no matter how hard you were trying your face had begun to break. 
“You know, you were right. There’s no reason for me to be here.” your lips upturned in a smile as you saw the glassyness of your eyes reflected in his face. It was an odd pain , not one you could name but, one you knew without a doubt was real. You had shared something special, he knew that. But, anyone could see that the lack of compatibility outside of the bedroom left the relationship forever doomed.He rolled his tongue between his lips and you couldn’t help but think of how blissful the silence was between you two. Someone had to say it, and in true fashion Henry was not strong enough. 
“ What are you talking about?!” He followed behind you into the hallway as you fled the elevator, opening the door to the apartment.
“We aren’t compatible Henry. You don’t get me. My lifestyle, my friends,my choices; you think it’s all a fucking joke or something. Well, it’s not,It’s not a fucking joke.It’s my real life. I know we play and talk about how much money you make but when it comes down to it I’ve never seen you put a red cent to helping anyone else. But, you watch me tithe everything I earn to give back to the communities that raised me. If you wanted to be with me, like really wanted to be with me,you would have already invested yourself in the things I find important. Instead, what you do is stand on red carpet at a black, trans fundraising gala and steal the attention once again.”
“I thought you were mad about the interview, now you’re mad about the gala?!?”
“I’m mad about all of it!” you screamed directly into his beautifully manicured face. Not an eyelash out of place and yet he still couldn’t contend with the neatening of his moral compass. 
“I’m mad because you center yourself in any safe space for people of color I take you to.I’m mad because you don’t ask for my opinion or consent before doing anything, because you don’t care.Actually, I’m not even mad anymore.I just see it for what it is.”The tears had started to slowly flow now, and while your pride kept you from full on sobs,a total breakdown was on it’s way without a doubt. You removed your bag from your shoulder,sitting it in the chair by the door and headed to your bedroom. You had graduated from the guest bedroom, to mostly staying in Henry’s bed with him, a convenience thing really. 
“And what is it?” he asked , finally unable to continue being berated by you.
“A mistake.” you said calmly, what had to be mere minutes felt like passing hours, the two of you standing there, looking at eachother, seeing the relationship for what it was. 
He spoke first.
“I love you.” his baritone timbre you had become so accustomed to sounded far away, you questioned if you had even heard him clearly.
“I love you, does that not matter to you at all?”he sounded stern, almost scolding you for not immediately reciprocating his affection.
“It’s not real Hen.” you said between tears “Someone who loves me, wouldn’t need me to explain all the ways his privilege consistently harms me. I wouldn’t have to ask him to donate to causes I’m passionate about, causes I’ve devoted my whole life to getting fundraising for. Someone who loves me would not make party conversation about how their black girlfriend has to sleep with a bonnet on.” He was silent,now. He stepped towards you, closing the void of misunderstanding.
“I'm sorry that I ever made you feel as though you aren’t the most important thing in the world to me.” He kissed your forehead, and then on the top of your head. 
He whispered into your hair but, you could feel his voice reverberating  through your curls.
“Can we not fight tonight ?” You exhaled, relaxing the weight of your body into his. You didn’t have to fight anymore because you heard his answer loud and clear. He didn’t want to fight because he couldn’t.  He could not think of something important enough to cause him discomfort,couldn’t think of anything worth his unhappiness. He placed his hands on either side of your face, pulling you in for a kiss. You kissed him back slowly, making up your mind to give in to your emotions for one last time. A spark went through your body as you felt his hands trail their way over your curves. You tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt and he quickly obliged,pulling it over his head. He lightly pushes you towards the bed and when he rolls ontop of you it feels more like a safety net than a sexual maneuver. Even as he undresses you, slowly, kissing over your body. He touches you so gently,assigning value to every square inch of your skin.Before long he’s looking into your eyes as he thrusts into you, rutting his way  inside you of.Your breath hitches as you begin to synchronize your breathing with his, becoming one, breathing as one whole. He held the backs of your knees, pushing them up further into your chest.You cried out at the depth of the new angle and he smiled, moving a hand from the back of your knee to your neck, lightly applying pressure. You loved his hand around your throat, the way his veins looked, the muscles in his arm , all of it. And he knew that, he was pulling out all of his best moves tonight. 
“You’re so bloody beautiful right now.so tight for me.” He murmured close, into your ear. 
His dirty talk alone sent you over the edge but, the added view, from this angle of his body was everything a partner could want. He moaned as he pushed into you , the result of your walls tightening around him. Your spasms brought him over the edge,as he came into you.You latched your nails onto the skin of his back, clawing for safety in his embrace. 
“I love you. I love you.”he said in between kisses as he came down from the high of physical contact. “I love you too.” you returned the words, because they were true and in that moment, nothing could have been more honest.He rolled over onto his back and you snuggled up next to him.
“I do love you” he whispers into your hair. The room is dark,aside from a sliver of light where the moon shone through the blinds. He slowly runs a hand over your hair and down your back.
“Then why haven’t I met your parents yet?” you sighed,turning your head upwards to face him.
The loudest silence of the night fell over the room, that was what made it real to him. He couldn’t deny it anymore. Even he knew, he had never invited you to visit his family, or even out to dinner when they were visiting in the states. You didn’t know if it was that he was embarrassed , or that he just didn’t know how to tell them. You weren’t even upset anymore, as much as you were resigned to the fact that you had to begin putting yourself first, to choose your needs first. And whether you wanted to admit it or not, if you were honest with yourself you knew he wasn’t the one. His brows furrowed and you could tell he was running through every possible response. His hand smoothed it’s way over your hair again and while you had resigned to the fact that it was over you couldn’t help but allow a piece of your heart to break as you saw his eyes become glassy. 
Before long he was fast asleep above you. Henry would be leaving the show, for another movie gig in two weeks but, since the  first rehearsal you hadn’t spent a day without Henry, or Kal for that matter. Sun peeked through the shades as you redressed yourself in the dark , you couldn’t be sure if this was something you wanted, or simply something you knew you had to do. You looked back at that beautiful apartment one more time,and then finally closed the door behind you. You recall the first time you entered the building, that day you had been instructed to bond as you step into the elevator. Watching the city below through the glass,a flicker of light catches your attention, then another and you realize it’s snowing. It had been a full year since the first time you had actually spoken to him. The doorman held the door for you,as you sparked your lighter. Touching the flame to the end of your cig as you stroll down the street.
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ibis-gt · 3 years ago
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chapter one of mercenary au! there may be more if i can dig uo the proper motivation... anyway here u go. requisite meetcute, 3k words, content warning for mentions of past family member death.
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Light shone through the bedroom window of one Luther Algers. The beam moved steadily, achingly slow, as the sun rose in the sky, until it finally reached the perfect angle to shine on his face and, when the sensation made him blink awake, directly in his eyes.
He groaned and rolled over, rubbing at his face with the heel of one hand. He would’ve tried to fall back asleep, but his thoughts caught up to him too quickly.
Today. He knew what today was. Today, he set off for Pentel. Today he gave up his freedom for the good of his kingdom.
Okay, so maybe that was a little dramatic. It sounded like he was going off to war or something. In truth, he was going to get married. It would be a lovely ceremony, lots of people in attendance, a splendid banquet, good feelings all around.
It just would’ve been nice if someone had asked him if he wanted to be married. Or told him who he was marrying.
But that wasn’t how this worked. It was an arranged marriage, one meant to strengthen the peace treaty between Pentel and Contigo. Traditionally the marriage should have been between princes or princesses of both kingdoms, but since Contigo’s king was childless, Luther had been chosen to seal the deal. Luther’s father was a high-ranking noble with a fair amount of money and influence, and he owed the king a favor. He seemed an obvious choice.
Well, no point in putting it off any longer. It would be about two weeks’ journey to the city of Pentel and once he arrived there were still details about the wedding to hammer out and his fiancee to meet. He rolled out of bed and dressed in the outfit that had been laid out for him last night. All lace and ruffles, with a runed belt, the symbols for first encounters and strong bonds etched across it. His job from here on out was to look pretty and smile on command. Like some kind of trained dog.
Before he had time to really properly wallow in his discontent, his father’s voice rang out from the foyer.
“Luther! It’s time! Don’t be late!”
“Coming!” Luther called, skipping out of his room and descending the stairs as quickly as he could. He caught sight of his father just as he exited the front door to their palatial estate. Luther took a moment to catch his breath and make sure his clothes and hair were in order before he followed, stepping out into the daylight. Outside, a line of splendid carriages sat, with people milling about between them. A trip like this was expensive, even beyond his father’s means, but since it was a matter of national importance the king was footing the bill. Servants flitted to and fro with last minute additions to the carriage train’s luggage, attended the important guests who would be traveling with Luther, and were generally busy as bees. Everyone was decked out in their finest finery, which seemed odd to Luther. Shouldn’t they save it for the last day of travel, when they’d actually arrive? But he supposed that they’d be stopping along the way for food and rest, and they’d need to look their best.
“You could’ve had breakfast if you’d been up earlier,” his father grumbled in lieu of a ‘good morning’, “but as it is either you can wait until lunch or see if there’s anything they can dig out of the provisions for the road. Now, your carriage is the one in the middle of the group. You’ll be in with two diplomats and a manners coach. They’ll teach you how to act and speak to Pentel’s royalty, topics to avoid, so on and so forth. There’s a historian in the carriage behind you, try to meet with them at meals and - are you listening to me?”
Luther was not listening. He was staring wide-eyed at a figure standing near his carriage. The man was dressed in armor, with strong boiled leather covering his chest and stomach. Metal pauldrons, gauntlets, and shin guards, slightly tarnished from time and use, glinted dully in the light. An oversized hammer hung from his belt. A few strands of black hair had come free from his long ponytail, and a scraggly beard clung to his chin. Probably the most interesting thing about the man, though, was that he looked to be about twenty feet tall. He could’ve picked up Luther’s carriage under one arm and walked off with it. He was watching the pair of them intently, ignoring the people bustling around between the carriages with packages and bundles for the road. Luther tried to drag his attention back towards his father. He could’ve sworn he saw someone actually walk between the man’s legs out of the corner of his eye.
It was rude to point, and probably unnecessary, so Luther said as delicately as possible, “Who’s that, uh… rather tall man?”
“Ah. Your bodyguard.” Luther’s father turned and waved at the giant.
“My - ?” Luther started to say, but lapsed into awed silence as his new bodyguard walked over to them. The ground practically shook under the weight of the man’s footsteps. He blocked out the sun as he stood before the two of them, and Luther suppressed a shiver that was half from the chill of the shade and half from the sheer size of the man. He was even more intimidating up close than he’d been at a distance. Luther felt practically pinned in place by the intensity of his gaze. Luther’s father continued speaking as though there weren’t a colossus standing mere feet away.
“As you know, your safety is my top priority,” he said, turning back to face Luther. “I’ve hired this mercenary to protect you on the journey.”
“I… see,” Luther said, glancing nervously up at the giant. “And… what is your name?” He raised his voice a little just in case the man had trouble hearing him.
“You can call me Cam, sir,” the giant replied. A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth before his face resumed the professional mask. His voice was gravelly and incredibly deep. Luther felt it vibrate in his chest.
Luther’s father glared at his son. Luther knew he didn’t really approve of fraternizing with those of a lower station, but it would have been so rude to just continue talking as though Cam weren’t there. Besides, that was such a stupid prejudice. But he didn’t dare disobey his father any further, so he did his best to listen as his father ran down a litany of instructions to ensure the journey was as productive and successful as possible. Largely it boiled down to Luther learning a lot of very boring things very quickly so he could present himself as the best Contigo had to offer.
Finally, his father put his hands on Luther’s shoulders and gave him the closest thing to a smile he could manage.
“You’re doing a good thing, son,” he said. “Good for both our kingdoms. You’ll be perfect. And you’ll be very safe.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Luther. Since Luther’s mother had died in childbirth, his father had been very protective. Overly so. To the extent that it bordered on paranoia. It didn’t help that an assassination attempt had been made on his father’s life after his involvement with an unpopular ruling about taxes that shifted the burden to the mercantile sector. His father had been convinced from that day on that home was the only safe place for him and his son. Luther hadn’t been allowed out unless accompanied by at least three handpicked guards, all of whom were serious buzzkills and never let him do anything fun.
That was probably why his father had gone so overboard with his protection on this trip, Luther supposed. Anyone wanting to cause trouble would hopefully be scared off by just the sight of the giant bodyguard walking alongside the carriage train.
He snuck a glance at the giant again. Cam was still standing right next to them, keeping them in his shadow, but was now looking out at the horizon as though scanning for threats. He was probably just as bored as Luther was, having to listen to his father prattle on. The thought was oddly hilarious, and Luther bit the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling as he met his father’s eyes.
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye, then,” Luther said. “I’ll be sure to write to you often.”
“Yes. Goodbye, Luther.” His father said the words as though he wasn’t entirely sure what they meant. He brought his son into an awkward, hesitant embrace, and quickly let go again. He’d never been good at showing affection, not through words or actions. Truth be told, Luther would’ve been jumping for joy at the chance to get away from home and his controlling father, if it weren’t for the fact that he was just going to end up in a no doubt equally controlling situation. “You go on ahead. I’ve got a few things to clear up with your bodyguard here.” Luther saw the small grimace that Cam attempted to hide and smiled to himself. He seemed like he’d be good company, at least.
As he set off towards the carriage that would be both his salvation and his prison for the next two weeks, he caught only a few words of the fairly one-sided conversation his father had with the giant. It sounded mostly like strict instructions not to talk to Luther except in times of extreme emergency, and a few other nitpicky details he didn’t quite hear. There was a rumbling, “Yes, sir,” from Cam, and then the giant’s thundering footsteps, drawing nearer. Luther’s heart beat faster as Cam approached. His stomach started to knot in anxiety. He knew the giant had been hired for his protection, but having such a large being walking so close behind him hit his fight or flight reflexes, and he’d never been much of a fighter. Luther forced himself not to look over his shoulder. He climbed into the carriage and settled himself on the cushioned seat, then finally shot a sideways glance out of the window. Cam had resumed his post in front of the carriage and all he could see from inside was a section of the giant’s leg.
Luther’s heart sank as he stared glumly at the ceiling of the carriage. The most interesting person on this journey, no doubt, and he was under orders not to say a word to him. He hoped he could break down the giant’s walls eventually. No doubt he had countless exciting tales of action and danger that would be loads more entertaining than listening to dry old historians and prim diplomats lecture him about how to hold a fork.
~~~
They had been on the road for only a few hours, but it had dragged like an eternity as the diplomats prattled away. Luther could barely hold any of it in his head. His eyelids drooped, he swallowed yawn after yawn, and he had to consciously stop bouncing his leg every five minutes. They’d finally decided that was enough for now, clearly dissatisfied with how poorly he was paying attention. Luther stared out the carriage window. He would’ve had an excellent view of the rolling green hills in the distance if it weren’t for Cam.
The giant was trudging along beside the carriage, easily matching the pace of the horses with a measured stride, and mostly blocking Luther’s line of sight to anything else. Luther realized Cam was going to have to walk the whole way, basically alone, since everyone in the carriage train seemed afraid of him and avoided him whenever possible. That was almost worse than having your ear talked off by stuffy old men telling you how to act. Luther knew Cam was under orders not to talk to him, but how was Luther’s father going to find out, anyway? He reached up and swung the window open, leaning his head out to call up to the giant.
The motion of the window opening caught Cam’s eye, and he glanced down just in time to see Luther’s curly-haired head poke out. Whatever the kid was saying was lost in the rumble of the cart wheels and the thunder of the horses’ hooves. It must’ve been important, though. The kid’s father had been very clear that he was engaging in extremely important business and should not be bothered or distracted by Cam. He could practically still hear the man’s thin, unpleasant voice. “Only in the utmost emergency should any communication pass between the two of you.” Well, this looked like an emergency, if he was interrupting his business, and how was the guy going to find out, anyway?
“Can’t quite hear you, sir,” Cam said. “Maybe we could talk when the carriage pulls to a stop at the next town?”
Oh, god no, I can’t wait that long, Luther thought. In fifteen minutes these old fogeys were going to try to start lesson number two. He leaned a little further out and on an impulse yelled, “Pick me up!”
Cam caught that one loud and clear, although for a moment he thought he must have misheard. But there wasn’t much else that could have been. He shrugged and said, “Open the door, then.”
Luther couldn’t believe that worked. He’d half expected the giant to laugh or shake his head. The diplomats stared at him open-mouthed.
“S-sir, I don’t think you should - ” One of them began nervously, but that only strengthened his resolve. He unlatched the door and swung it open with a confidence that completely crumbled as Cam’s huge hand reached in and grabbed him around the middle. It was a delicate maneuver since the carriage was still rolling, but Cam managed it deftly, lifting Luther up and setting him on one shoulder, then laying a hand across his lap to keep him in place. He'd had to crouch to reach into the carriage and Luther felt his stomach drop as Cam straightened up. The ground fell away at an alarming speed, and then he was swaying gently back and forth with Cam's stride, hair blowing in the breeze.
"So, what were you going to say?" Cam asked. 
"Uh, um, I, uh.... Hi?" Luther squeaked.
Cam's eyebrows knit in confusion. 'Hi?' Did the guy just want to say 'hi'? Really?
"Hello," he replied.
Luther was silent, fidgeting for a moment. He'd lost his nerve completely. He was up so high and so intimately close to Cam's face. He couldn't even find his voice enough to ask to be set back down.
Oh my god, Cam thought, that was really it. Well, that was embarrassing. Didn't really need to go to all that trouble. But the guy seemed content to sit there for now. He decided to try some small talk.
"Enjoying the journey so far? It must be pretty stuffy in that little carriage. Good to get out and get yourself some fresh air."
"O-oh, um, yes. Quite stuffy. The air is, uh. Nice." Luther could smell Cam very distinctly. Sweat, salt, steel, and leather. An earthy combination, but not entirely unpleasant. It was so different from what he was used to, and honestly a welcome change. It was a lovely day, a little on the chilly side, but Cam's hand on his lap kept him quite warm. Even the cold steel pauldron below him was heating up pretty quickly. "I’ve, uh, never met a giant before."
Oh, there it is. He'll have all kinds of invasive questions, no doubt. Cam suppressed a little sigh. "Honored to be your first, then." Technically not exactly true. Cam was only half-giant. But to sheltered nobles who didn’t know better it didn’t matter.
But there was no follow-up. Possibly Luther caught the tired edge to Cam's voice and wisely decided to drop that line of discussion. The silence that followed wasn't as awkward as Cam thought it would be. The little noble smelled faintly floral and citrus-y. The scent was light, not at all cloying like some other rich folk's perfume. Cam found that he kind of liked having him on his shoulder, actually. It made him feel like a protector, as opposed to before when he felt like he was just tagging along uninvited.
Luther was glad that Cam had his eyes fixed ahead on the road, because he was blushing so hard his face must have been lobster red. The giant was unexpectedly gentle. He'd half expected to be accidentally crushed in Cam's grip at first, but Cam had much more control than that. The hand across his lap was a firm, comforting pressure, and he was grateful for it. His own hands had been held tight to his chest, but as he relaxed he lowered them slightly. He hesitated, then rested them on the side of Cam's hand, anxiously glancing at Cam's face as he did so. No reaction. His hunched shoulders slumped, and he let out the breath he’d been holding.
Now that Luther felt more comfortable, he could enjoy the sensation of being carried. It was quite the way to travel. He looked out across the fields and watched a pair of birds in flight. The advantage of Cam’s height allowed him to see so much farther than usual.
Cam snuck a sideways glance at Luther. He had his head turned slightly away staring out at the horizon and seemed much more relaxed with a slight smile on his face. Cam suppressed a smile of his own. The little noble was pretty cute, he had to admit. His carefully-arranged brown curls had gotten mussed and out of place when Cam picked him up, and they now fell much more naturally around his face, framing it nicely. He could just about make out constellations of freckles across his delicate face, and warm, curious brown eyes that tracked an arc across the sky. An expression of wonder and amusement perched lightly on Luther's face.
Cam realized he'd been staring at Luther too long just as Luther looked back in his direction. Cam yanked his eyes away and focused on the road again, desperately keeping up the blankest poker face he could manage. He realized he was nearly about to walk right over the carriages and course-corrected as subtly as he could, cursing himself for getting distracted. This was just another pretty noble he had to protect and he couldn't afford to mess this job up. The payout would be huge, along with bi-weekly payments as long as he hung around after the wedding. Nearly a real steady job. He heard Luther stifle a giggle on his shoulder and his brow furrowed, his neutral expression drawing down into a frown. He hadn't been nearly as subtle as he'd hoped, then.
Blessedly for Cam, Luther's carriage door swung tentatively open again, and one of the diplomats poked his head out.
"It's, ah, time for the next lesson," he called over the clatter of the horses' hooves. "If we could have the young gentleman back, please…?"
Cam nodded his agreement and shifted his grip on Luther, leaning down again to place him back in the carriage. "Watch yer head," he muttered, and Luther ducked inside, giving Cam a wistful glance over his shoulder.
There. With any luck, those would be the last words they ever spoke to each other.
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koutarouthighs · 4 years ago
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『 soft cotton 』
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S U M M A R Y ― sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of desire, and other times out of convenience, you end up wearing their clothes.
post type ➺ headcanons fandom  ➺ haikyuu!! characters  ➺ tsukishima ⧾ iwaizumi ⧾ terushima  genre ➺ fluff rating ➺ t+  tags ➺ established relationship; clothes share/swap; nudity if you squint (bare thighs); party environment described but not in explicit detail; word count ➺ 2.8k request ➺ [YES/NO]      ↳ request status: OPEN
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⤭ tsukishima is confused the first time he finds you in one of his shirts. before his brow wrinkles in that telltale way of frustration, you hold your hands up in surrender and explain that while you were helping his mother in the kitchen, you spilled soy sauce on your white top and she offered to clean it for you while dinner was in the oven. ⤭ after that, you don’t end up giving him that shirt back. it’s an old one, that doesn’t have much sentimental value, but there’s something jarring about tsukki seeing you in his clothes; an out of body experience, almost. he doesn’t understand why anyone else would want to wear anyone else’s things - isn’t that why you buy your own clothes? ⤭ and he has to ask the other guys about it. why does she wear my shirt to bed? why doesn’t she just give it back? and boy, do they have a field day with him. he can be so dense sometimes. doesn’t he see? you wearing that shirt is like you carrying a piece of him with you, even when you’re far away.  ⤭ his clothes engulf you, absolutely dwarfing your frame due to the height difference between you. tsukki has always thought of you as tiny, not fragile, but now, seeing you swimming in the fabric that makes up his ratty old tee, he thinks he has begun to understand why you like to wear this shirt over any of your more expensive, more fashionable ones. ⤭ he might be an asshole about it, but tsukki finds ways to gift you more of his clothes indirectly. he accidentally spills soda on your shirt one night when you’re staying in, watching a movie and eating pizza. another day he grabs at the hem of your shirt when you’re walking away and tears a hole in it. somehow, you still haven’t caught on, but he doesn’t ask you for the shirts back anymore. in fact, when you start to return them, he gets almost as irritated as he did when you had to ask for the first one out of pure necessity.
more below the cut ↴
“i’m sorry, kei,” you brush the fabric free of wrinkles as it settles at your mid thigh, covering the shorts that are currently adorning your lower half. you slowly look up at him, a warmth on your cheeks that signals your shyness, “i’ll bring back this one with the others next time i see you, okay?”
a scoff leaves his lips and he’s tugging at your wrist, pulling you forward on the couch until you’re tumbling down to meet him. your knees settle on either side of his waist and he watches as the fabric of the shirt pools around your thighs, “don’t worry about it. your washer makes them smell like old lady anyway. i don’t want them back.”
the way you tilt your head to the side, cocking an eyebrow and dropping your lower lip in confusion never ceases to amuse him. tsukishima reaches up and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, inhibiting your speech even as you ask, “i-i can wash them over here, if you want, kei.”
he’s shaking his head again, snagging at you until you’re flush with his chest, your face tucked against his neck. it’s not necessarily odd behavior for him to want you so close, however it is strange that he’s not asking for his clothes back. he used to put up so much harder of a fight.
“nah, they were shitty shirts anyway,” he sloughs off the string of words like they were meaningless, however you know the weight they hold. you also know better than to tease him too far, rather to take the prize you’ve silently won through heckling and hard work. the shirt on your shoulders feels warmer, somehow, with the knowledge that you have his blessing to keep it as if it were a gift from him in the first place.
your hands run up the length of his shoulders until you are hooked around him entirely, clinging to his lanky body like a koala. he smells so good, especially after a shower and a shave, which you suspect he’s done earlier today based on the scent of his aftershave still lingering on his neck. you nuzzle your nose further against his jugular, feeling the way his heartbeat pounds the blood in his veins. a low hum escapes your lips without your permission, but tsukishima must not mind your slip of the tongue, but instead is encouraged by it, sneaking his chilly fingertips underneath the hem of the familiar item of clothing until he finds your ribs.
he’s practically lulled you to sleep with the ministrations of his fingerprints mapping out each of your ribs, in tandem with the warmth he provides and the skin-on-skin contact you’ve beseeched with your own hands. your eyelids cannot stay pried open any longer, and so you allow them to shut. somewhere between now and then, tsukki drags a blanket over your shoulders, angling his body to be in a more comfortable position without jostling you too much to the point you’re far too awake to fall back asleep.
just before your mind is consumed by that dark realm of slumber, you hear a low murmur in your ear, “they looked better on you anyway.”
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⤭ iwaizumi would not admit it in the beginning of your relationship, but there was something about seeing you in his clothes, namely a t-shirt with his old high school jersey number on it, that just made him feel a certain way that he could not explain. ⤭ it starts with you forgetting to wear a jacket on a date one night, but you don’t ask. iwaizumi sees you shivering and wordlessly removes the bomber jacket from around his shoulders and places it on your own, waiting until you’ve slipped your hands into the sleeves before he grabs for your hand again, interlocking your fingers at the knuckles.  ⤭ after that, you start to become more comfortable asking him for his hoodies and even though he gives you a bit of a frustrated comment after you accidentally take one home, when you stop asking for his jackets, he gets confused and concerned.  ⤭ with iwaizumi’s job, he gets a lot of free merchandise from the team(s) he works with. and by proxy, you get a lot of t-shirts and hoodies and other items passed down to you because he would accumulate too many things otherwise.  ⤭ you refuse to wear anything the first time, though. because without iwa wearing it around the house at least once, it won’t smell like him. he thought it was weird at first, but eventually you started noticing more clothes piling in on your side of the dresser that you’d seen him wearing a few times. and then, when he sees you step out of the bathroom after your shower with that team japan long sleeve shirt on, if you catch him quickly enough, you’ll notice a small, fleeting smile on his lips.
“hajime?” your call comes from the kitchen, and iwaizumi can hardly hear you from his place in the bathroom, showering after a long saturday of practice games. he rubs the towel against the top of his head, drying his hair before responding, “yeah, just a minute, babe!”
when he steps into the kitchen, you take him by surprise. you always do, even now, years after your first date. settled on your shoulders is an old seijoh promotional t-shirt he remembers having to wear to a fundraiser. but the seafoam green fabric settles against the tops of your thighs, exposing the remainder of your legs to the chilly breeze coming through the apartment windows. you always crack the windows when you’re cooking or baking; something iwaizumi noticed when you first moved in.
“iwa-chan?”
iwaizumi has to blink once, so harshly that he sees stars on the backs of his lids, before he can focus on you. he tilts his head and licks his lips, “yeah, sorry. what did you say?”
that laugh that rings in his dreams floats across the space between the two of you, and he fights a smile so he doesn’t look like a dope while you’re trying to ask him a question. he steps forward on the guise of hearing you more clearly, and then reaches out to push your hair behind your ear, his fingers itching to brush against the stitches of the fabric holding the shirt together on your pretty frame.
“i asked if you wanted the spicy steak tonight, or if you wanted me to reign in the heat,” your voice comes easy, simple and soft, and iwaizumi catches himself turning gentle at the sound of you. your palms abandon the cookware for a moment to extend towards his body, slipping beneath his top to rests on his hips. your thumbs brush over the warm skin, still slightly reddened from his time in the shower.
he’s so lost in the primal, territorial sensation he gets that starts as a prickling in the base of his neck, seeping down his spine and curling around every bone in his body. he wants to kiss you, to show you how he feels rather than telling you, and so he does. 
iwaizumi has never been one to deny how he feels.
your breath is stolen from your lungs when he lurches forward to capture your mouth with his own. his palms are rough as they search your torso for somewhere to land, settling on your shoulders so he can keep your upper body pinned to him. you release a small squeaking sound from the back of your throat, but he’s already swallowed it before you can feel self-conscious. 
“haji,” you gasp when you feel his fingertips dig into the muscle of your shoulders, and a laugh follows suit when his lips withdraw from yours and you can see the intensity in his gaze, “wh-what’s gotten into you?”
he’s not really sure, if he were to be honest with you. maybe it’s the nostalgia of the color fabric of the tee that you’re wearing. maybe it’s the way he wishes that he’d continued to play volleyball in a more direct way. maybe it’s the way the shirt falls just far enough to keep you from exposing anything too tantalizing.
or maybe...
“it’s just you,” he answers, pulling you by the thighs so he can pick you up and deposit you on the counter top. your legs sashay, ankles brushing his legs, and you can’t help yourself from twirling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. iwaizumi takes a deep breath before repeating himself, as if saying the phrase again might solidify the statement, but this time he adds: “it’s just you, in my shirt. you’re absolutely beautiful.”
your whole body burns at the compliment, and you bashfully blink downward, but iwaizumi is quick to lean in for another kiss. before too long, he’s got you drowning in his affections, his palms beneath your shirt to map out your skin, and the dinner you were previously preparing has been completely forgotten.
“iwa,” you murmur between the clacking sounds your teeth are making as they collide, “d-dinner, what...”
you feel his chest reverberate with a growl and then his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt, “forget dinner.” his voice is rough and his touch is gentle, “we’ll just order out tonight.”
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⤭ terushima is the one to ask you if you want to wear his clothes from the very beginning. he loves seeing you wearing his flannels and tees and hoodies. he always tries to find one that pairs well with your outfit so that way he can reason you into wearing his clothes whenever you go out.  ⤭ if he comes home to see you curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies, just absolutely engulfed in the warm fabric, it makes his whole body tingle. he goes and changes after work and will definitely slip underneath the blanket you’re hidden under to wrap his arms and legs around you. ⤭ when he asks you for clothing advice, at first you wonder if it’s because he’s trying to change up his look. but, after a few strangely specific questions, you finally realize that he’s trying to tailor his wardrobe to be something that you could always find easy to wear. ⤭ the desire to see you in his clothes is partially from being territorial, but mostly because he just thinks you look hot as hell when you’re wearing his clothes. you always manage to make his clothes look ten thousand times better, mainly because it’s you wearing them. it never fails, he will always make a comment about how good you look wearing just his big tee to bed, even if your hair is all mussed and your face is still shiny from your skincare. ⤭ sometimes you’ll catch him stealing your clothes, too. you wear big tee shirts that are comfortable, and sharing is caring! he loves to pick on you when he wears your clothes, pointing out the designs printed on the shirts and how adorable you are for wanting to wear such cute little things. 
“god, pretty girl,” his voice is rough as it runs ragged against your ears, his hands on your waist from behind, “you know how it makes me feel to see you in my clothes.”
and of course you do. yuuji is no quiet thing when it comes to how you make him feel. so, you lean into him, if only to egg him on until he’s begging you to head out of this little house party. his fingers slip into the back pockets of your jeans and you find yourself stumbling into his chest, palms fumbling over his torso to try and clutch at his shirt to steady yourself.
“teru,” you chide, pinching his cheek before leaning up to kiss him. you pull away before he’s gotten warmed up, leaving him following you by craning his neck. a chuckle escapes your lips and you press your index finger against his pursed mouth, “we came here to celebrate kiyoko and tanaka. can you keep your hands to yourself for just a few more hours?”
“baby,” he’s whining in your ear now, all needy with his lips pouted and his irises widening, “you can’t be serious! you know that’s my favorite shirt to see you in! i think you did this on purpose!”
his fingers tug on the material of the flannel that’s draped over your shoulders, pooling around your hips and framing your body just perfectly. you watch as his irises struggle to focus, pupils dilating as he looks down at you. his mouth twitches in expectant words, but he’s interrupted by someone else who steals your attention.
while you’re busy talking to one of your old friends from high school, terushima is given the opportunity to take in your appearance for the first time since he met you at the party earlier, and the sight of you engulfed in his flannel and a pair of his crazy socks that peek out from the cuffs of your jeans makes his chest constrict so much so that he grasps at his shirt with his fingertips, barely curling his digits around the fabric of his tee before he realizes what he’s doing.
a slow, gentle blinking of his lashes brings him back to earth, where he can stare at you some more, all unbeknownst to you. he doesn’t mind admitting to anyone who wants to know that he loves to watch you when you’re just existing. he likes to notice the little things about you, to catalog them in the back of his mind so he can remember them on days when you have to be apart for longer than he wants to be.
your attention is diverted when you feel his palms against your hips, his chest brushing your back as he leans forward to kiss your shoulder, “i’m gonna get a drink, yeah? you want anything?”
“water,” you nod, reaching back with one hand to run your fingers against his undercut, “thank you, teru.”
another kiss is deposited to your cheek before he unravels himself from you and heads towards the kitchen, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. and you tilt your head so you can take in a deep breath of the collar of the flannel that you’re wearing, and somehow it feels like you’re there with him despite the distance between you. 
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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years ago
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Imagine Harry learning to play the guitar after the war and Draco finds out when they start dating and is obv a slut for it. Anyway what I'm here to beg for is sexy-guitar-player-Harry smut please and thank
first of all nonners I’m so sorry this took me lit rally 59 years to answer!!!! when I saw it in my inbox last week I was abt to answer n be like yes. this. And then realized it needed to be written and got sidetracked w the first himbo harry installment but here it is now and let me just SAY this trope is my new FAVORITE thing in the world oh my goddddd when I tell u the way I’ve been yelling to glows and cielia abt it 👁👄���
highly recommend listening to wonderwall when it comes up to Complete the Experience. hope u enjoy ❤️
“I’m sorry, he what?”
“Yeah, he’s really good,” said Weasley. He nodded towards the acoustic guitar hanging on the wall; Draco had taken notice of it the first time he’d seen Harry’s flat but never paid it much mind after that, taking it for decoration, or perhaps an unused gift. “He’ll play if you ask him. He doesn’t like showing off.”
“Which is silly,” Granger said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve told him, just because he’s good at it doesn’t make it showing off. I wish he’d play for people more often.”
“He has literally never mentioned this to me.” He felt utterly stunned and completely cheated. He tried to picture it and couldn’t. “How long’s he been playing?”
“Picked it up after the war. It was kind of funny, actually  --” Weasley started saying, but Harry came back into the room -- still pulling his shirt on -- and he broke off, giving Draco a significant look that told him to bring it up.
“Harry,” said Draco imperiously, to which he received two raised eyebrows as Harry fell into his favourite armchair and pushed a hand through his still-damp curls. Draco matched his expression and glanced at the guitar. Harry followed his gaze, looking genuinely confused.
“What, what is it?”
“When were you going to tell me you play?”
“What, guitar?”
“Yes, guitar.”
He shrugged and grabbed for one of the beers on the table, wandlessly magicking the cap off. “I dunno. When it came up, I guess.”
“The way your friends tell it you’re quite good.”
Harry gave Weasley and then Granger a sour look; both of them gave it right back to him, which was, admittedly, amusing.
“I can play all right,” he said vaguely, and took a swig of his drink. It did make some sort of sense, now Draco thought about it -- the tips of Harry’s fingers were far, far too calloused to have been just from casual Quidditch and Auror training. 
“You know, Harry, it actually comes off as more pretentious when you act like this,” said Granger. Weasley snorted. Harry glared at her. “Just play for him, won’t you? And us too -- it’s been ages.”
“Yeah, what’s that Muggle song you play sometimes that I like?” said Weasley.
“I dunno, I’ve played a lot of Muggle songs.”
“He means Wonderwall, Harry,” said Granger, grinning. Harry finally smiled too, and although their little Muggle joke was lost on Weasley and himself he was glad to see that it had apparently been the prodding Harry needed to give in. He set his beer back down and went to get the guitar; something about the way he threw the thin and fraying strap over his head, the way his hands went effortlessly to their places, was unexpectedly attractive. The left one curled easily around the neck of the instrument, heavily-roughened fingers finding their odd positions on the strings, something Draco had always thought looked very painful.
He plucked a few chords and then began fiddling with the knobs at the head of the guitar, tuning it in what was clearly the Muggle fashion, which against his will left Draco completely fascinated. Having no musical inclination himself, he could make nothing of the process except that Harry apparently heard the discordant notes in there well enough to be able to fix them, and finally when he brought his thumb down across all six strings it sounded as sweet and clear as if it had been done by magic.
“Course he likes Wonderwall,” Harry said to Granger even as he began playing, fingers shifting and moving and contorting to create the notes while he strummed softly, effortlessly, and the music crawled over Draco’s skin and inside of him. “I remember Dudley listening to it, like, what … summer before sixth year? On the radio constantly.”
“Sounds about right,” said Granger. 
 Draco had stopped paying attention to what they were saying, though. Either because the music itself had something haunting about its melody or because it was Harry playing it, or perhaps a combination of both, Draco felt a pit of emotion form in his chest to round off the edges of his growing arousal.
And then he started singing, and Draco swallowed very hard. Granger dropped a head onto Weasley’s shoulder and watched with a tender expression, Weasley similarly enamored. Harry had his eyes on his hands for the most part, closing them a few times throughout, looking as comfortable now as he did on a broomstick.
Only three months of official dating had not prepared Draco for the flood of emotions he now felt, yet the most pressing matter had become the semi trapped uncomfortably in his trousers. He wanted those talented fingers in his mouth, to feel the callouses on his tongue and taste Harry on them; he wanted to feel them on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and hip bones, to have them buried so deeply in his arse that he forgot where he ended and Harry began. 
Of course, he had to keep this to himself for the next hour, until he was able to get Granger and Weasley out of the flat. And once he did, he didn’t bother dragging Harry to his bedroom -- Draco pushed him up against the front door that had just closed behind his friends and hauled him into a kiss that he felt Harry grinning into.
“I thought you seemed tetchy,” he muttered, hands dropping to Draco’s hips. “Oasis really does it for you, huh?”
“What the hell is oasis?”
“The band who does the song.”
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s the band who does it for me.” He kissed Harry again, maybe a little too hungrily, and dug a fist into his side when he started laughing. “Shut up, why the hell didn’t you ever tell me you played?”
Harry pulled his head back, looking at Draco with an arched brow and an infuriating smirk. 
“What do you mean, ever? We’ve only been together three months, it didn’t come up.”
“God,” Draco muttered, and now he reached down and pressed his palm against Harry’s cock, pleased to feel how hard he was in spite of his ruthless teasing. “You’re so annoying.”
“Well if I’d known how randy it would make you I might’ve played for you a long time ago.”
Having had quite enough of Harry’s particularly sarcastic brand of wit, he ignored this last and reached for one of his hands, removing it from his own hip and bringing it to his lips. It was extremely satisfying to watch the smirk disappear from Harry’s face when he sucked one of his fingers into his mouth. 
“Bit fetish-y, isn’t this?” Harry said breathily, eyes wide as he watched, looking half amused and half awed. In retaliation, Draco took another finger into his mouth and slid his tongue between them, tasting soap and salt, feeling the callouses on the tips of his fingers and letting that sensation grip his insides like an iron fist. “Jesus Christ,” Harry groaned; his free hand went to Draco’s jaw, holding him steady, and with a truly outstanding audacity began fucking Draco’s mouth with his fingers.
They dipped bluntly past his uvula, scraping the back of his throat so he gagged around their intrusion. Saliva built with an excessive speed that had it drooling out of the corners of his lips and coating Harry’s knuckles. Draco closed his eyes and let it happen, opening his throat against the relentless assault and curling his hands in Harry’s shirt just to steady himself. 
They were gone too soon and Harry’s mouth replaced them, much gentler but still with a tangible sense of urgency about it.
When he broke away, he said against Draco’s lips, “Like my fingers, do you?”
Draco merely nodded, feeling their wetness against his cheek. 
“Then turn around,” said Harry, “and I’ll fuck you with them.”
Draco let out a soft, embarrassing whimper and let Harry spin them around and press him against the door, cheek-first. He undid his flies himself and Harry tugged them down his legs and off his feet, allowing Draco to spread them slightly. Harry’s fingers were there immediately, sliding slick between his cheeks and over his hole. The memory of Harry’s hands on the guitar was still so fresh, his fingers changing chords effortlessly, sacrificing them to blisters and callouses and roughened skin for the music they created, and Draco closed his eyes against a fresh wave of arousal and another pang of emotion.
“You really are incredible,” said Draco, biting back a moan as two of those dexterous fingers slipped inside of him. Harry fucked him with them slowly, carefully, seeking out his prostate and angling for it each time once he’d found it. Draco turned his face to press his forehead against the door, eyes still closed, nails scraping wood. “And I like that song.”
“It’s a good one,” Harry agreed. His hot breath caressed the back of Draco’s neck, fingers pumping, his other hand back at Draco’s waist. “I have a million more I’d love to show you.”
Draco didn’t bother trying to find his voice again: instead he pushed back against Harry’s driving fingers, everything that wasn’t the relentless stabbing against his prostate driven from his mind. His neglected cock slapped against the door with every thrust, the red and irritated head dripping pre-come against the wood. Only half conscious of the decision to do so, he wrapped his hand around it and pulled and squeezed and zeroed in on the bursts of pleasure radiating outwards from inside his body until it all spilled over and he came in great pulses, gasping for breath while Harry kept at it. 
The fingers slowed as he reached his peak and began coming down but they didn’t stop, nor was his prostate given much of a break. Harry reinforced his grip on Draco’s waist and kept pumping, a steadier rhythm that nevertheless rubbed and prodded at that little bundle, making his nerves tingle and fizzle and scream out their overstimulation.
“Harry,” he said weakly, knees buckling. “Please …”
It could have been comical the way Harry followed his movement as he slid down the door to the ground, except it wasn’t. It was infuriating, actually, and felt at once like more than he could possibly handle and exactly what he needed. His forehead and his hands went back to the wood, bracing himself as Harry, kneeling behind him, continued fucking his beautiful, merciless fingers and stimulating Draco’s overworked prostate. 
He pushed a third one in alongside the other two and Draco was shocked to feel a hot tear leak out of the corner of his eye. Harry crooked them expertly, with all the confidence and surety of someone who had done this a million times, could do it in their sleep, as if it was not the guitar strings but Draco’s body he was strumming now, an instrument fine-tuned to his own particular cadence and rhythm, which he and no one else could play quite right.
Lips parted, hot breath echoing off the door and back into his face, Draco allowed himself to be taken apart with the same ferocious intensity he’d seen Harry use on the guitar. Each stroke brought him back to full hardness, each stab against his prostate made his nerves sing a tormented chorus, drowning out the pain of the wooden floor against his bare knees. 
“Shit,” Draco choked out, “I’m gonna come again …”
“Well that’s the idea,” said Harry. His voice was full of that same witty and well-meaning sarcasm Draco liked so much, even when it made him feel like punching him. Snatches of the song came back to him, Harry’s voice when he sang it, the expert shifting of his fingers where they pressed and plucked at the strings like he was making love to them. It was all so very much. 
He came a second time without even bothering to touch his cock, because he just didn’t fucking need it. His body thrummed and vibrated like a snapped rubber band while Harry coaxed him along his high and back down again. When he finally pulled his fingers out he leant forward over Draco’s back and kissed the side of his neck, then the corner of his jaw. 
“You know you make much lovelier sounds than the guitar, just so we’re clear,” he said, and Draco, with what strength he had left, shoved Harry and watched him fall sideways laughing. 
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