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toxicanonymity · 2 months ago

Note

feeling so horny 😫 for democracy 😫 and being represented by my elected representatives 😫

used resist bot to remind my representatives here in the hellscape that is my home of florida that their job is to represent us and our needs! not their own financial interests or! their religious beliefs!! also felt the need to remind them of the constitution and it's protections of our voting rights!

anyway, speaking of the constitution, we the people of the toxic fanclub, in order to create a more perfect union between the miller brothers cocks and reader's body, establish boners, insure domestic horniness, provide for the common spank bank, promote the general sexy time, and secure the Blessings of Horny to ourselves and our Posterity, do request more of your beautiful musings on Leopard Print. perhaps dp....

Please, you are too funny, I love you so much 😫😫😫 SAVE act | 5calls | resistbot | ask event | event masterlist

cheetah print, pt. 2 of 2

Joel x f!reader x Tommy, 2k words (part 1 here)

"Pussy’s ours,” Joel said, “But the womb is mine.” He grazed your lower belly. “Want ya blowin’ up round with my baby.”

WARNINGS: 18+, PWP, unsafe PIV, double penetration (double vag; vag/anal), dirty talk, degradation, cream pies, breeding kink, huge loads, body/weight talk, cum inflation, miller incest via DP, fuck it we ball. leopard print au NOTES: My miller bros masterlist has fic recs with more DP. BONUS PART HERE

“So ya wrecked her pussy, huh?” Tommy asked.

“Oof,” Joel answered and kneaded your ass. “See for yourself.” They both watched your pussy cling to to Joel’s cock as he slid back nice and slow and told you, “Face down, ass up, sugar.”

You assumed the position, earning a “good girl” from Joel.

You winced at the emptiness, and at the air hitting your dripping cunt.

“Oh yeah,” Joel observed. He stopped a trickle of cum with his finger and pushed it back in.

“God damn,” Tommy said. “Nice work.”

Joel spread your pussy lips to show Tommy your insides. “See all that?”

“Two loads?” Tommy asked. “I ain’t been gone long enough for three.”

“Just one so far,” Joel bragged.

“No shit,” Tommy said.

“Told ya those supplements work,” Joel replied.

The cum began to trickle out again and this time Tommy was the one to catch it on his finger and slide it back into you. “Mmm…. Look like she could use a plug,” Tommy mused.

“Well i sure as hell ain't done here,” Joel said, “Long as we got that straight.”

“Yes sir,” Tommy said and untied his board shorts.

“What are you waitin’ for,” Joel asked, “Plug her up.”

Tommy slid into you, easily bottomed out. “Wrecked ya good, huh?” he murmured. Your pussy winked at his words.

“Ooh, she still got it though,” Tommy remarked.

With another shift of his hips, Tommy plugged you up good. “There ya go,” Tommy whispered.

He held your hips and stayed fully seated inside you, keeping you full, plugging Joel’s cum in your cunt, presumably until Joel was ready to give you more.

Joel positioned himself in front of you, softening cock in his hand. “Give’m a kiss, baby,” he directed you. You lowered your head, with Tommy’s cock still in your pussy, and took the head of Joel’s cock into your mouth.

“Good girl. Easy now.” You sucked him nice and easy while the brothers chatted like you weren’t there.

Tommy asked, “Remember what we talked about the other night?”

“About takin’ a trip up north?” Joel asked with his cock hardening again in your mouth.

“Nah, ‘bout how it’s been a few years since we, uh. . . Shared a hole. At the same time, I mean. Still think this one’s up to it?”

“Guess we better try her on and find out,” Joel said and twitched in your mouth. “Think there’s room?” he asked his brother.

Tommy did a little swirl of his hips and said, ”yeah, you got her nice’n open.”

Joel was stiff in your mouth, and told you, “That’s enough.” He got up and went behind Tommy to look at you wrapped around that dick.

Joel tilted his head to look at where your body was joined with his brother’s. “Fuck, man, you gotta tell me if she’s leakin’,” Joel said.

“Just means ya fucked her out good, s’all,” Tommy congratulated him. Tommy demonstrated by scooping up the semen with his fingers and sliding them in along with his cock.

“What’s the goin’ rate for double-vag these days?” Joel asked and your face burned. When you didn’t say anything, he concluded, “Shit, almost forgot you’re in it for the cock, ain’t that right?” Then Joel said to Tommy, “I want her facin’ me. Gotta see the look on her face.”

Then Joel laid face up and held his cock for you and said, “C’mere, sugar.”

As you sank down on Joel’s cock, he said “Look at you all fucked out already. He looked your body up and down. “God damn.” He palmed your tits, slid his hands down your abdomen, and as he raked his fingers over your lower belly, he said, “Tommy ain’t gonna come in here, know why?”

“Cause you found me first? This pussy’s yours?”

“Nuh-uh. This pussy’s ours,” Joel said, “But the womb is mine.” He grazed your lower belly affectionately with his knuckles. “Want ya blowin’ up round with my baby.” The image made you throb harder.

“C’mere,” Joel whispered and hugged you toward him.

In the background, Tommy was lubing up his cock. Then he got in position behind you and used two lubed up fingers to push Joel’s cock down in your cunt, making room for his own cock on top. Tommy’s tip prodded at your hole but didn’t go in. Then he used his fingers to help more. He pushed the head in, wedging it in, smushed on top of Joel’s cock, making you gasp. Then he used his fingers to help push the head in more and adjust your walls so they hugged the tip comfortably. Joel tilted his hip to let out a couple of inches.

“Ready?” Joel asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy answered, strained.

Joel counted, “one, two,” then Tommy pushed half his cock in as Joel’s length slid back into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed at the stretch. “Fuck fuck fuck, oh, god.”

Joel smiled as he read the combined pain and pleasure on your face. “She’s good,” he told Tommy. Tommy bit his lip and slid in further, making Joel moan.

“Good girl,” he praised you. “Look at you, takin’ both these big dicks,” he marveled.

Your cunt burned and so did your upper body. Two men had their cocks in your cunt at the same time, and their cocks weren’t small. It embararssed you and turned you on.

“Good girl,” Tommy echoed. “How’d ya know that was gonna work?” he asked Joel.

“She’s just got that look about her,” Joel said. “Moment I laid eyes on her, knew anything was possible.”

“Guess so,” Tommy agreed.

“Plus,” joel continued. “The way she sat right down on your cock last time, and all I did was open the truck door? God damn…. Fuck, that was hot”

You moaned at the memory and mounting pleasure as your body adjusted to the double girth.

“Yeah,” Joel whispered. “You liked that.” He rocked his hips under you, making Tommy grunt at the friction.

“You sure are somethin’,” Tommy muttered.

“She’s my somethin’,” Joel reminded him. “How’s it feel sugar?” Joel asked.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “God, I’m fuck, I’m so stuffed. Packed.”

Both men moaned and twitched at your words.

“God, it’s so much, like I could burst,” you said. “Just totally stuffed.”

“Yeah?How ya fittin’ us anyway?” Joel asked.

“It’s like everything’s moved out of the way,” you said. “Like, all my insides are pushed apart and up,” you panted, then took a moment for a deep breath. “Like pushing up on my lungs even,” you took another deep breath, then sighed. You reached your hand between you and Joel and felt your tummy. “Fuck, I’m full,” you said.

Joel fucked you slowly. “Yeah, takin’ these cocks real good. Girl like you needs two cocks, huh? You got the hungriest cunt, sugar. You’re a real good girl. Best kinda girl. God I love this hungry cunt. So fuckin’ hot.”

“Surprised she can talk,” Tommy said.

“What’d I tell ya?” Joel asked. “She’s a pro….. She was droolin’ for it earlier. Knew she wanted more.”

“Fuck, I’m so packed—ohh,” You moaned with joel sliding in your cunt with his brother’s dick.

“Look so hot, baby,” Joel gushed. “Feel so good, takin’ our cocks.”

“Oh,” you moaned.

“You want some more? Ready for another load?” Joel asked, breathing heavier. “I got more, don’t worry.”

“I dunno, Joel,” Tommy hesitated, “Fraid I might–”

“You better not,” Joel warned. “You know your fuckin’ place.”

Tommy took a deep breath, bit his lip and held still. Joel thrusted a few short strokes, moaning, “oh, yeah,” Then groaned as he pulsed in your cunt, throbbing against your walls and Tommy’s cock as he unleashed a massive load.”

You were speechless, it just pumped and pumped into you. “Fuck, that was a lot,” you panted.

“Ain’t quite—ohh,” Joel moaned, still throbbing. “Fuck,” A few more massive twitches, and he sighed.

“Fuck, I’m gonna blow if I don’t pull out,” Tommy warned.

Joel was exasperated, “Fuck, it’s gonna leak all over the place,” he complained, “gonna be too loose right now.”

Your chest was on fire.

“It’s okay, I — I got it,” Tomy said and squirted lube onto his thumb. He hastily smeared it into your asshole, then pulled out of your overstuffed cunt and slid his used dick right up your taint and started pushing into your ass, making you moan.

Joel was spellbound by the face you made.

“Oh, god,” you said. “Fuck.”

Tommy pushed his dripping cock into your ass, with their cocks now separated by just the thin membrane of your back wall.

“That feel good too, huh?” Joel asked

Your wrecked face answered as yo nodded.

Tommy backed up and slid into you, beginning to fuck you slow. “Oh, yeah,” Tommy whispered, “That’s a tight fuckin’ hole….. Good girl,” he said.

“Fuck, man, I’ve gotta-” Tommy warned.

“Fuck it, fill’er up.” Joel said.

“You sure?” Tommy asked.

“Fill her ass up all ya want,” Joel offered.

“It’s gonna—it’s gonna be a lot,” Tommy warned, fucking you slowly in the ass. It was a different fullness, still completely packed, but without the burn around their cocks.

“Yeah,” Joel said.

Tommy bottomed out and pulsed into your guts, groaning quietly as he came. “It’s—little more,” he panted already having dumped a full load. “Yeah,” he sighed.

You must have had ten loads worth of Miller jizz in you at that point. You’d never felt so full. Not only did they take up so much space inside of you, it felt like you yourself took up more space. Your belly was pushing against Joel’s happy trail. When Tommy finished coming, he affectionately placed his hands on your sides, then whispered, “Oh, wow,” and slid his hands around front a bit, feeling the swell of your belly.

“Thought ya said she wasn’t knocked up yet,” Tommy said, caressing your softer, rounder shape.

“Hell if I know,” Joel said. “Sit up a lil, baby,” he urged you. He slotted his fingers under your arms to help push you up, and tommy moved his hands to cup your tits, pulling you back. “There ya go,” Tommy said.

Joel’s eyes went dark looking at your fuller belly. “Fuck,” he whispered, and his breaths were heavy. His cock twitched in you, and you looked down and cradled your belly in your hands. “Oh my god,” you whispered.

Joel moaned and his eyes were glued to your belly as he erupted again, placing one massive hand on your belly as he came. “Oh baby,” he moaned, feeling your skin tighten under his palm with a little more growth. “Oh, fuck.”

They helped you get cleaned up. The swelling didn’t go down much after you got off their cocks.

You couldn’t keep your hands off your belly. You were bracing your hand on it like you were pregnant as they helped get you dressed. It sloshed as you walked. Joel took a picture and sent it to you because you wanted to know how you looked. Looking at the picture, you figured it was right at the line where it could pass for a very serious beer gut or food baby, or both combined. Maybe. Your tits could barely fit in your swim top, though.

When you rejoined your friend, she was staring blatantly at your swollen stomach. Your face burned, but you didn’t say anything. “You look different,” she said.

“Oh, I gained a few pounds,” you told her. “I really didn’t need that extra popsicle,” you cradled your gut. “It’s like I never stop.”

“I didn’t notice earlier,” she said. “I mean, not that there’s anything to… notice,” still couldn’t peel her eyes away.

“It’s okay,” you told her. You laid down and caressed your bump under the umbrella, dripping with arousal for the rest of the day.

thank you for reading! and thank you for your comments. i've been writing a lot, and your comments and reblogs help keep me going.

And thank you for talking to your senators!

#joel miller x reader x tommy miller #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel miller smut #miller brothers #blorbos for democracy #toxicanonymity ☠️#blorbos for democracy ☠️#joel x tommy x reader #joel x reader #we the people anon

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dreamauri · 2 months ago

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Hi, first of all, I love your writings, and secondly, I wanted to make a request (I don't know if you're accepting requests or if you'll accept this one). Can I ask for a Kimi antonelli x reader story? Maybe the reader is a PR representative for Mercedes and they're now dating. She's completely different from Kimi's personality; she's a bit more serious and reserved (although outside of the cameras, she's a bit more playful and daring). Meanwhile, Kimi is always making comments about his girlfriend all over the paddock. She loves how he admires her, but she doesn't want to create a stir on social media and prefers to keep a low profile. However, at home, she's quite clingy to him, or when she thinks no one is watching, she steals kisses or whispers things to make him blush.

♪ — 𝗢𝗙𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗗 kimi antonelli x mercedes intern! girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . when the un-pr-trained rookie gets with the pr intern, it's entertaining, especially when one's shy to the public eye and the other is the most public not pr trained man ever known to society (1.1k words)

( main naster list | more of kimi antonelli ) ( requests )

You had to admit, Kimi's antics in the paddock were . . . endearing. Despite your more reserved, serious role as a PR intern for Mercedes, you couldn’t help but smile inwardly whenever you caught sight of his goofy grin or mischievous gestures. The two of you were an odd couple in the public eye, your quiet professionalism contrasting with his open, often hilarious disregard for public expectations. But it worked. Somehow, it worked.

The first time you met Kimi, you didn’t expect anything other than a few polite interactions about work. You were a dedicated professional, not someone interested in the drama or the messiness of Formula 1's constant attention. But then Kimi showed up with that lopsided grin, offering you a drink that he immediately spilled when he tried to pass it to you. And before you knew it, you were laughing—and then dating.

Of course, you made sure to keep things under wraps. This relationship was yours, not a spectacle for social media. But Kimi? Kimi didn’t care. He didn’t care what anyone thought.

He’d casually stroll past the Mercedes garage, throw a wink at you from across the paddock, and announce loudly to anyone within earshot, "That's my girl over there!" You would roll your eyes, but secretly, you adored it. It made your heart do a little flutter whenever he did that. Still, you had a job to do. And your job didn’t involve social media posts about your private life.

But Kimi was relentless. It didn’t matter if he was in the middle of a press conference, or chatting with his teammate, George Russell, on the grid—he’d find some way to bring you up. You once overheard him telling George about your last date night together.

“She’s so different, man,” Kimi said, gesturing broadly with his hands. “She’s got this serious thing going on, always with her PR stuff . . . But off-camera? She’s, like, playfully daring. Almost makes me wonder if I should be worried!” His grin was impossible to miss, as if he were proud of the fact that you kept him on his toes.

George, ever the tactful one, raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah. Last night, she tried to steal a kiss from me when we were at that restaurant. I almost died of shock,” Kimi continued, a bit too loudly, causing a couple of team members nearby to glance over. You could already feel the flush creeping up your neck.

You tried to hide your embarrassment. Kimi didn’t care. He loved it. The more reactions, the more he’d talk about you.

And as for you, you would always ask him to stop. “Kimi, please,” you’d say, tugging him gently by the sleeve when he did that. “People are listening.”

He’d just raise his arms, all dramatic, and mumble in Italian. “Ma che cazzo! Who cares?”

Once, you even tried to give him a lecture about keeping things low-key. “We’re not supposed to be making a spectacle of ourselves, Kimi. You know how I feel about the cameras.”

He just laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like making a spectacle of you,” he teased, his voice hushed but mischievous. “And you like it too, don’t you?”

The thing was, he wasn’t wrong. He made you smile, even when you were trying to act like the serious, professional PR Rep. When it was just the two of you, he had this way of making you feel special. When no one was looking, you’d let yourself be clingy, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him in for a soft kiss or whispering something that would make him blush.

You found your private moments together to be the best part of your relationship. He was a complete contrast to the version of himself everyone saw. At home, he was affectionate, always holding your hand as you walked together, wrapping his arm around your waist when you stood in the kitchen or even when you were just standing in the garage. You had learned that in Kimi’s world, physical affection wasn’t just reserved for privacy—it was something he openly enjoyed.

And you… Well, you learned to love it. The way he kissed your cheek in front of everyone, or snuck a quick peck on your lips when he thought no one was watching. Even though you liked to keep your relationship private, Kimi couldn’t help but make it public—and somehow, it always made you fall harder for him.

One afternoon, after a particularly intense race weekend, you found yourself walking out of the paddock with him, hand in hand. You could feel the weight of the cameras behind you, but Kimi didn’t care. He smiled at you and gave you a quick peck on the lips before dragging you towards his car.

“You know, you look so much better when you smile,” he murmured, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You should do it more. I like it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re such a show-off.”

“I’m showing you off,” Kimi corrected, his voice teasing. “And I’m proud of it.”

As you got into the car, you glanced over at him. There was something undeniably charming about his lack of concern for the public’s gaze. And while you might prefer to keep things quieter, you couldn’t deny that being with Kimi—his open affection, his public proclamations, his relentless pursuit of you—was something special.

That night, as you both sat down for a late dinner, Kimi’s phone buzzed. He casually looked at it, showing you a picture he’d taken earlier in the evening.

“See?” he said proudly, showing off a picture of the two of you smiling together at the restaurant. “George is gonna be so jealous.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you set down your fork. “Kimi… Stop showing everyone pictures of us.”

He shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. “What’s wrong with that? You’re my girl. I’m proud of you.”

You sighed, leaning into him. You would never get him to stop with his PDA, but that was just one of the things you loved about him. And honestly, deep down, you knew you secretly loved the way he made you feel like the most important person in the world. Even if the world was watching.

“Alright, alright,” you teased, stealing a quick kiss from him. “But just this once—stop showing the world so much.”

Kimi looked at you, then smiled, the same playful grin creeping back onto his face. “I’ll stop,” he said with mock seriousness, “but only if you let me kiss you more.”

You rolled your eyes again, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Deal, you big softie.”

And just like that, he kissed you again, proving that no matter where you were or who was watching, Kimi was always going to be the one to make you smile.

voice notes 🔊 . . . ( kimi is like a few months younger than me I don't know how to feel about that like dang. I'm here dying in my studies and my grades and he's over there driving a FUKING MERCEDES in FUCKING FORMULA ONE as a ROOKIE. what did I do wrong in my life, this is why I should've NOT stayed in school 🥲 )

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ethereacals · 5 months ago

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so american <3

CHAPTER ONE: ALL AMERICAN B####

summary: Remus grows attached to an American transfer student from Ilvermorny.

trope: idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine, slight fast burn

pairings: remus lupin x gryffindor!american!reader

pt; 1-?

contents; people make fun of readers accent, reader was a thunderbird but is now a gryffindor

wc; 1.9k

new part every friday

THE LONG AWAITED DAY HAD FINALLY ARRIVED

Ever since your mom and dad had let you know that they had gotten job offers with the british Ministry of Magic, you couldn’t wait to finally become a student at Hogwarts.

Sure— Ilvermorny had it’s specialties, but Hogwarts? Hogwarts was easily the best wizarding school in all of the world.

And that’s why you simply couldn’t wait to attend.

You had heard so many incredible things about the teachers, the castle, and even the students.

Though— the excitement wasn’t necessarily fending off the nerves.

You were coming in as a 5th year, a 5th year who had no friends, no house, and no grasp of any sort of british wizarding culture.

People had started their friendships as first years, and closed their inner circles off to outsiders looking in.

So that left you to try and find some sort of place in the world, and everything was new and scary.

Admittedly— it did feel a bit embarrassing as you sat on the boat took 1st years across the Black Lake.

You towered over them, but in this technicalities (except for age and height) you were the same as them.

As the boats neared the boathouse; your anxiety seemed to grow.

Again, you felt a bit silly standing amongst the young 1st years as Professor McGonagall explained the houses and their attributes to everyone before entering the infamous Great Hall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup.” McGonagall smiled warmly, as she answered a few questions from the 1st years with ease.

Allegedly, the ceiling was enchanted to look like a clear night sky.

You couldn’t wait to see it, Ilvermorny had nothing like that.

Back to the houses, you had always wondered what house you would be placed in— even before you attending Hogwarts was a blip on anyone’s radar.

You were a proud representative of Thunderbird back home, hopefully you would make them proud.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, with a swish of her wand— the doors to the Great Hall opened.

Revealing the four large tables, each seemingly representing a different house.

The stares and whispers that followed your arrival were nerve-wracking, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

“All right, will you wait along here, please? Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.” Professor McGonagall explained, stepping aside so the 1st years could see.

Dumbledore rose from the main table in the center.

“I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce. The first years, please note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Moreover, swimming in the Black Lake is strictly prohibited unless you would like to become lunch for the giant squid who resides inside. Thank you.” Dumbledore seemed to smile softly at you— probably because he could sense your nerves.

Even people at Ilvermorny would boast about Dumbledore.

“When I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.” She began to call up 1st year after 1st year, as chatter rose over the students— seemingly chatting about who was getting placed where.

“Y/N L/N.”

When your name was called, the hall went silent.

You could nearly feel the prying eyes burning into your skin as you stepped up to the stool.

As she placed the hat down on your head, the battered old thing sprung to life.

“Ah… different from the rest, are we?” He inquired, shifting around on your head uncomfortably.

“Y-yes.. I suppose.” You stuttered quietly.

“A Thunderbird, were you? I believe I know where you go.” He began, the anticipation was thick in the air.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

He shouted, and cheers erupted throughout the room. Even McGonagall seemed pleased.

You stepped down from the stool, and towards the Gryffindor table when—

“Psst, Psst!” A ginger-haired girl called you over, a warm smile on her face as her two friends looked in your direction.

You walked towards them, and slid yourself down into the empty seat on the bench.

“You, you’re the new fifth year?” She questioned nicely.

“Yes, I am” You smiled, as her smile dropped— her eyes lighting up in surprise.

“Y—You’re american?!” Her blonde-haired friend exclaimed in bafflement, her hands slamming down on the table as food appeared on the table for the great feast.

“Umm, yes..?” You looked around at the three girls, and one of them gave you a smile.

“I’m Mary, Mary Macdonald. Since these two don’t seem to be giving you a proper introduction— This is Lily Evans, and That’s Marlene Mckinnon.” She stated simply.

“Oh, come on, Mars. I was just about to introduce myself.” Marlene rolled her eyes playfully, and gave Mary a small nudge.

“I’m sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable, I mean— I’ve never met an American before.” Lily apologized, her smile returning to her freckle-stricken face.

“It’s alright, I understand.” You laughed, beaming at Lily.

“Well— This is my one of my boyfriends, Jame— James!”

Lily looked over at James disappointedly, as he was seemingly trying to steal from her plate.

“Sorry, my love.” James smiled guiltily, before turning his attention to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N” He shook your hand strongly.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, James.”

His eyes widened comically in response to your response.

“Y—You’re american?” He whispered from across the table, as if he was asking something highly inappropriate.

You giggled, “Yes, I am.”

“Pads, Pads!” Sirius grabbed the shoulders of the boy next to him and jostled him around to get his attention.

“Merlin’s tits— What, Prongs?” Sirius sighed exasperatedly.

“Here— Y/N, say hello again.” James asked of you.

“…Hello.”

Sirius gasped rather dramatically, his eyes nearly widening the same as James’

“She’s… You’re.. not… british?” You bursted into a fit of laughter with Lily, and Sirius looked baffled.

“Wait— Wait— In America… What do you call it when two people snog?” He asked, as Lily shot him a glare.

“What does “snog” mean?” You asked innocently.

“It basically means when two people kiss feverishly.” Marlene explained, as Sirius playfully eyed you up and down.

“I could always… show you?” He joked flirtatiously, and earned a painful jab into the ribs by James.

“So, you mean making out?” You answered, still a bit confused.

“Making out? How uneducated.” Sirius huffed, turning back to this plate full of food.

Suddenly— You met the auburn eyes of a quiet, scarred, gentle giant whose skin was a lovely shade of olive, and littered with freckles.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m sorry about them.” He spoke, leaning over Mary to speak with you.

“It’s alright, I promise.” He didn’t seem very phased by your accent, but on the inside— it drove him crazy.

“My name is Remus, Remus Lupin.” He smiled gently, that smile must have been hand-picked by angels.

“It’s great to meet you, Remus.” You beamed at him.

“You aswell, Y/N”

And that was the day that Remus Lupin fell head over heels for the sweet American girl.

FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Remus throughly enjoyed watching you discover the abundance of magic in Hogwarts.

To you— it seemed like everything was new and exciting.

It felt like everything was new and exciting for him, too.

And for once, Remus actually cared about the place he had honestly been taking for granted for five long years.

Perhaps it was the way that your eyes lit up every time you happened upon an enchanted painting, or all of the questions you asked regarding the logistics behind the giant squid.

For whatever reason, Remus found you extremely intriguing.

Though, Remus vowed he would never tell you.

It would be his last wish in life to force anything upon someone as lovely as you.

So, he stayed quiet.

"Remus, I don't understand!” You sighed exasperatedly.

“What do you mean there’s a room that shifts itself into anything you require? How?” You pointed your finger at the door that had just appeared out of nowhere on a blank wall on the way to the Astronomy Tower.

“No one really knows, Dove. Sorry.” Remus cooed, patting your shoulder consolingly as he led you to Astronomy.

Remus was the only one of your newfound friends that had decided to take Astronomy this year, seeing as Sirius and James took it last year just to get it over with.

You quite enjoyed looking at Remus, admiring how his unexplainable scars were illuminated by the moonlight shining in from the large open walls.

Even in your few first days at Hogwarts, you could tell that you would grow to adore it.

You might have adored spending time with Remus even more, and you were especially in luck since Professor Sinistra assigned three hours of star-charting and you were to do the assignment in partners.

So, that's why you and Remus were up at the Astronomy Tower at 2am on a Friday (with a teachers excuse to be up past curfew).

"Do you ever miss your parents when your away at school?" You asked Remus.

He was certainly the quiet type, and that intrigued you.

"Sometimes, but I usually see them over Christmas break. I mainly write them letters after every full moon." He stated simply, before realizing what he accidentally slipped out.

"After every full moon?" You questioned, furrowing your brow as he seemed to quickly explain himself.

"It's a thing... my mum insists upon." He evaded any other questions regarding the matter, much to your chagrin.

He wished he could open up to you, but he still basically didn't know you.

He had no knowledge what-so-ever on your views on Werewolves.

He couldn't risk destroying a friendship that could eventually be the purest and most authentic he'd ever had.

Sure, James and Sirius were incredible mates, and so was Peter.

But for some unexplainable reason; Remus could speak to you.

He never felt uncomfortable with talking about his thoughts or feelings around you, and he only could hope that you felt the same.

You were both different, well- different but in two very significantly different ways. But you were still two individuals who didn't really fit in with the crowd.

"Have you missed Ilvermorny, yet?" Remus gazed towards you as you switched places. You on the telescope and him charting what you find.

"Same as you, really. Not much, even though I haven't been here for long yet. It feels a bit more... homely, than Ilvermorny ever did." You admitted, concentrating deeply on the assignment.

"I understand, It was probably an interesting change." Remus related deeply.

"An interesting one? Absolutely, but a welcomed change, for sure." You smiled, turning back to face him and explain to him what you had seen in the stars.

Oh, yes. This was the beginning of something truly beautiful.

#marauders era #fem!reader #remus lupin #marauders #fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #calli's so american #american!reader #hogwarts #marauders fanfiction

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sashayed · 2 months ago

Text

What He Thought

for Fabbio Doplicher We were supposed to do a job in Italy and, full of our feeling for ourselves (our sense of being Poets from America) we went from Rome to Fano, met the mayor, mulled a couple matters over (what's a cheap date, they asked us; what's flat drink). Among Italian literati we could recognize our counterparts: the academic, the apologist, the arrogant, the amorous, the brazen and the glib—and there was one administrator (the conservative), in suit of regulation gray, who like a good tour guide with measured pace and uninflected tone narrated sights and histories the hired van hauled us past. Of all, he was the most politic and least poetic, so it seemed. Our last few days in Rome (when all but three of the New World Bards had flown) I found a book of poems this unprepossessing one had written: it was there in the pensione room (a room he'd recommended) where it must have been abandoned by the German visitor (was there a bus of them?) to whom he had inscribed and dated it a month before. I couldn't read Italian, either, so I put the book back into the wardrobe's dark. We last Americans were due to leave tomorrow. For our parting evening then our host chose something in a family restaurant, and there we sat and chatted, sat and chewed, till, sensible it was our last big chance to be poetic, make our mark, one of us asked "What's poetry?" Is it the fruits and vegetables and marketplace of Campo dei Fiori, or the statue there?" Because I was the glib one, I identified the answer instantly, I didn't have to think—"The truth is both, it's both," I blurted out. But that was easy. That was easiest to say. What followed taught me something about difficulty, for our underestimated host spoke out, all of a sudden, with a rising passion, and he said: The statue represents Giordano Bruno, brought to be burned in the public square because of his offense against authority, which is to say the Church. His crime was his belief the universe does not revolve around the human being: God is no fixed point or central government, but rather is poured in waves through all things. All things move. "If God is not the soul itself, He is the soul of the soul of the world." Such was his heresy. The day they brought him forth to die, they feared he might incite the crowd (the man was famous for his eloquence). And so his captors placed upon his face an iron mask, in which he could not speak. That's how they burned him. That is how he died: without a word, in front of everyone. And poetry— (we'd all put down our forks by now, to listen to the man in gray; he went on softly)— poetry is what he thought, but did not say.

Heather McHugh Hinge & Sign: Poems, 1994

#poetry #national poetry month #heather mchugh

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sweetvoidstuff · 16 days ago

Text

Just a Normal Night: Missing you

Jungkook x Reader I Modern AU I Chance Encounter I Fluff I Romance

Summary: You and Jungkook had built something steady amidst the chaos of long-distance and fame. Though you couldn’t share your love with the world, Jungkook made sure you always felt seen, valued, and included.You held onto each other in quiet ways, making the most of every message, every stolen day, but there were nights—like this one—when the ache of missing him, of pretending, became sharp and lonely.

Word Count: 9K

Masterlist

Just a Normal Night

Just a Normal Night: Seoul Edition

A/N: I hurt myself with this one... Just a quick note on formatting: Bold text is used for dialogue spoken in Korean. Italic text represents internal thoughts or feelings. Normal text is used for dialogue spoken in English.

I hope this helps make things easier to follow while reading. Thanks so much for giving my story a chance!

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It had been a few months now. You and Jungkook had found a rhythm—chaotic at times, but surprisingly solid. You’d grown used to airport runs, shared calendars, and time zone math. More than anything, you’d learned how to make every moment together count.

You’d even switched jobs to make it work. Your new role allowed more flexibility—more home office days—which meant more opportunities to catch flights out to him, or better yet, to welcome him into your space. And Jungkook had started planning his travel routes with intention. No matter where he was flying—be it Tokyo, Paris, or New York—he found a way to make a stopover at your place. Even if it was just for a day or two. Sometimes he’d arrive at midnight, exhausted but smiling, and slip into bed beside you like he belonged there. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t perfect. Of course not.

But it was more than you thought you’d get when you first fell for a man with a passport full of stamps and a calendar packed to the edges. What surprised you most, though, was how normal some things started to feel.

Your best friends, Pascal and Floral—your loud, protective, ride-or-dies—had long since exchanged numbers with Jungkook. They'd grilled him mercilessly, but by the end of it, Jungkook was laughing so hard he was crying. Now, they sent memes back and forth like old friends and occasionally FaceTimed him just to "make sure he was still hot." Jungkook played along with good humor, sometimes even sending photos just to mess with them.

You had group chats with some of his people too—Yoongi occasionally sent you dry one-liners about keeping Jungkook in check, while Taehyung’s voice notes were always unhinged in the best way. You didn’t see them often, but when you did, it never felt like a performance. You were part of this now, even if quietly.

Still, it wasn’t always easy. The secrecy was the hardest part.

There were no selfies online. No hand-holding in public. No sharing your favorite photos of him—at least not outside your locked folder. Not even on your photo wall. You watched from a distance as the world speculated about his life, sometimes cruelly, sometimes ridiculously, and always loudly.

And when something trended—some blurry photo, some headline about him being seen with someone else—it could hit you like a punch in the gut if you weren’t expecting it. But you usually were.

Because Jungkook made sure of it. He told you everything.

Before the rumors even started, he’d already filled you in. A potential collab with a female idol? You’d known weeks ahead. A tabloid writing nonsense about him partying? You had the real story before the article even dropped. Some out-of-context video making rounds? You’d already heard the full, boring truth from him or one of the BTS guys that filmed the video.

Jungkook wasn’t about gifts—not really, because you made him promise not to. Though he still insisted on bringing you things that made you groan and swat at him for spending too much (like the ridiculously expensive designer scarf you refused to wear outside because what if you lost it?), that wasn’t how he kept you.

He kept you by being there.

With late-night texts, sleepy voice notes, and photos from hotel rooms that always looked a little too sterile until he brought you into them—even if only over FaceTime. He kept you in the loop, in his orbit, in the spaces between the noise. And you stayed. Not just because you loved him—though you did, deeply—but because he made loving him safe, even in the shadows.

And sometimes, just sometimes, when you caught a glimpse of him looking at you—like you were the only thing grounding him to this world—you didn't care that no one else knew.

You knew. And that was enough.

But you still missed him.

No matter how well you'd both adjusted to this rhythm of time zones, shared calendars, and countdowns until the next flight, there were still nights when it hit you hard. Nights like this one—cool air brushing against your skin, the city buzzing, the distant sound of laughter from people who didn’t have to keep their love life secret.

You knew he missed you just as much. Jungkook wasn’t shy about saying it anymore. Voice notes that started with "I miss you so much…" had become a regular comfort, sometimes accompanied by a half-asleep selfie or a blurry photo of whatever city skyline he was staring at.

But neither of you could put your lives on hold. He had concerts. You had deadlines. He had fans. You had rent.

So tonight, instead of being curled up on the couch, texting or facetiming him, you were out with your friends.

Your group had grown over the past few months. It wasn’t just Pascal and Floral anymore. Tonight, Eumi had joined, along with Carmen—and Dong, who had somehow transformed from the waiter at your favorite Korean BBQ place into a staple of your group chat. He’d been charming from day one, always slipping into your conversations with gossip and impressively savage opinions about Kimchi. Over the months, he’d stayed longer after meals, accepted your invitation to a group hang, and just fit.

The six of you had started the evening at a small Italian restaurant tucked between two bookstores—a cozy spot with handwritten menus and twinkling fairy lights in mason jars. You laughed over shared plates of pasta, swapped stories from the week, and clinked glasses over how mentally cooked you all were from work.

“So,” Carmen said at one point, spearing the last mushroom ravioli and leaning her chin on her hand, “When are you finally going to get a boyfriend?” You nearly choked on your wine. “Yeah,” Dong added with a wicked grin, tilting his head. “It’s getting suspicious. All this skincare and mystery phone calls. I’m starting to think you’ve got a secret man in your walls or something.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Eumi deadpanned. “She’s probably got one locked in the basement.” Pascal, who was sitting beside you, didn’t even blink. “If she did, trust me, she’d let him out just to clean. Maybe do taxes. She’s too busy for anything else.”

You laughed with the group but sidestepped the question as you always did. “I’m just enjoying being mysterious,” you said, taking a sip of your drink with a wink. “It adds to my overall brand.”

“Mysterious and single?” Dong teased.

“Mysteriously unavailable,” Pascal said smoothly, and clinked your glass in a quiet, knowing gesture. They let it go after that. The teasing didn’t stop—but the questions did. After dinner, you all made your way to your and Pascal’s favorite karaoke bar. It wasn’t trendy or flashy. In fact, it was a little run-down—but the mic worked, the drinks were strong, and the regulars didn’t care if you couldn’t carry a tune.

You pushed through the door and were immediately hit with the warm, bassy thump of 2000s pop echoing off the walls. The lights were low and multicolored, the disco ball spinning slowly overhead like it had better days behind it. Floral was already halfway to the songbook, flipping furiously. “Okay, nobody is allowed to leave until we’ve all done at least one cursed duet.”

“Dibs on ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ with Carmen,” Pascal said, making Eumi groan.

“Only if we get to do the headbanging part properly,” Carmen said, already rolling up her sleeves.

You slid into the worn red couch, surrounded by the people who had become your safe zone. It wasn’t Jungkook’s arms. It wasn’t the weight of him leaning into you while you worked from your laptop on his hotel bed. But it was something. It was home.

And for now, that was enough.

As Pascal grabbed the mic for his first round and the opening notes of a dramatically off-key rendition of “Toxic” by Britney Spears started to blare through the speaker, you relaxed into the cushions, drink in hand, your laughter rising above the music.

Tonight, you'd sing the stress away.

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Across the world, Jungkook missed you.

He was just stepping off set after finishing his shoot for the new album concept—slicked back hair, sharp eyeliner, and a coat that looked like it belonged in some post-apocalyptic runway show. Yoongi was next up, already halfway through wardrobe, and Namjoon, still in his second look for the single concept, was heading to the makeup noonas to prep for round two.

But Jungkook wasn’t thinking about any of that. Not really. He was thinking about you.

He wished you were here. Sitting in the corner of the set with your laptop, pretending to work but really just watching him with that soft, secret smile. But this was one of those weeks—busy, mismatched schedules, deadlines for both of you—and the reality was, it just wasn’t possible to meet up this time. In a week—maybe two, max—there would be a new window. A precious stretch of four whole days that matched both your calendars, and he was holding onto that like a lifeline.

He couldn't wait.

Just as he stepped into the dressing room and reached for his phone to text you a tired selfie, a new message popped up on screen.

Pascal: Hey thought you might like a treat 🍬 (video file attached)

Jungkook’s lips curled before he even opened it. Your friends Pascal and Flora had grown close to him over the last few months. They messaged him every now and then, mostly teasing him with you, sometimes just sharing random moments from their group outings. It helped him feel connected to your life even when he couldn’t be there physically. Plus, it gave him an excuse to practice his English—although for texting, Google Translate was still his loyal sidekick.

He tapped the video.

The next three minutes of shaky camera footage had Jungkook grinning like an idiot, and within ten seconds, he was done for. His grin stretched wide. Laughter burst from his chest before he could stop it. The stress of the shoot, the fatigue pressing on his shoulders, the whirlwind of deadlines—forgotten. He watched, eyes glued to the video Pascal had sent him.

You were on screen, standing beside a Korean girl Jungkook vaguely recognized from your stories—Eumi, maybe? The two of you were in a dimly lit karaoke bar, a disco ball spinning above your heads and casting colorful speckles of light across your faces.

The two of you were mid-performance, belting out MIC Drop like your lives depended on it.

Badly. Loudly. Hilariously. Adorably.

You and your friend were giving it everything. Your choreography was a chaotic blend of real BTS moves and your own completely unhinged freestyles—wild arm swings, aggressive dabs, mic flips. You pointed dramatically on beat, lost yourself in the lyrics, and nearly dropped the mic from laughing too hard mid-line. The improvisations made Jungkook burst into breathless laughter. He cringed and cooed all at once.

You were mouthing all the lyrics—his parts too—with such exaggerated confidence that it looked like you were headlining a world tour. Eumi tried to do Jungkook’s part but gave up halfway through, handing it over to you—just as the beat dropped into Yoongi’s rap.

And you went full fan mode.

You rapped Yoongi’s lines like you were auditioning to replace him—fierce, theatrical, and way too confident for someone who tripped over the beat twice. But it only made it funnier. Somehow better. Your swagger was ridiculous. Your hand gestures had no coordination. And you didn’t care at all. The sheer joy radiating off you made Jungkook’s chest ache—in the best way.

And despite the shaky cam, he could clearly make out the proud chaos in the background.

In the background, Flora and someone else were waving rolled-up napkins like cheering batons, adding their own hype to the performance. Like they were at a concert, cheering you on like their lives depended on it. At one point, Pascal could be heard laughed so hard he wheezed, his voice barely audible, “They’re gonna break the stage, oh my God.”

Jungkook doubled over, clutching his stomach, nearly dropping his phone. He had to pause the video just to breathe. His eyes were watering from how hard he was laughing, but also… from something softer. Something warm.

“God, she’s killing it,” he mumbled, wiping a tear away and shaking his head. He couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t stop watching. He hit rewind, needing to see the part again where you did a dramatic spin, lost your balance, then laughed it off and did a little body roll like nothing had happened.

“Jungkookie?”

Jimin passed by in a black tank top and joggers, holding a water bottle. He paused at the sight of Jungkook hunched over, laughing like a maniac. “What are you watching?” he asked, curiously stepping behind Jungkook and leaning in.

Jungkook held the phone out without a word. Jimin leaned in. After just five seconds, he snorted. And immediately, Jimin’s expression cracked. “No way. Is that your girl?”

Jungkook just nodded, lips pressed together to keep from cracking into full-on laughter again.

“She’s destroying Yoongi’s part,” Jimin said, grinning. “Hold on—HYUNG!”

Yoongi, already halfway to the set in his stage outfit, turned slowly. “What now?”

Jimin waved him over, already laughing. “You need to see this. Jungkook’s girlfriend is coming for your position. You better step it up.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but wandered over anyway. Jungkook rewound the clip to that part and, even Yoongi couldn’t help but smirk. “She’s got guts,” he muttered, crossing his arms as he watched your overly intense delivery and dramatic mic flip. “Terrible breath control, though.”

“But better hair,” Jimin added.

“Don’t make me regret showing you this,” Jungkook said, grinning helplessly. Then you did a full-body spin, stumbled, laughed it off, and tried to save it with a half-hearted body roll—before dabbing like it was your encore. “She’s perfect,” Jungkook said without thinking, eyes still locked on the screen. His voice was soft. Full of something raw and real.

Jimin caught the tone and softened too. “She’s adorable,” he said. “Does she know her friend filmed this?”

“Definitely not.”

The three of them watched the rest of the video together, crowded around Jungkook’s phone like teenagers. And when it ended? Jungkook hit play again. Because even through grainy pixels and shaky camera work, you’d lit up the room he was in. Even from a thousand miles away. Even from a crowded dressing room in another time zone.

And it reminded him why this—you—were worth every second of distance. Every lonely flight. Every night he had to fall asleep with a phone screen instead of your voice beside him.

You were wild. You were chaotic. You were you.

And God, did he miss you. He couldn’t wait to text you. He couldn’t wait to tell you how much he loved the video. How he was now going to tease you for exactly how hard you went during his verse, how you absolutely butchered his choreo, and how he loved you even more for it. And how, next time, he wanted to see it in person.

Not through a video. But sitting beside you. Maybe even grabbing the mic himself.

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It was late when you finally got home, still humming snippets of songs you’d absolutely butchered at karaoke. Pascal and Flora had dropped you off with promises to plan the next night out soon, and now the silence of your apartment felt both comforting and oddly loud after the chaos of the bar.

You were a little tipsy—just enough to feel warm and relaxed from the couple of drinks you’d had, but still steady on your feet. As you kicked off your shoes, you glanced at the clock and groaned.

Time zone math. Ugh. What was it where Jungkook was? Morning? Afternoon? Late evening?

You flopped down on your couch, pulling out your phone. You hadn’t heard from him much today, but you knew he should still be busy on set. Just in case, you thumbed out a short message:

You: Still awake?

You were already half-preparing to open one of the goodnight voice messages he’d sent you the night before—a soothing backup plan when he was too busy to answer. But before you could even close your messaging app, your phone lit up.

Not a text. Not a FaceTime. A regular call.

You blinked, surprised. Jungkook’s name lit up your screen, and your heart jumped. You answered quickly, pressing the phone to your ear with a sleepy smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, you,” came his voice, low and warm in your ear. “Didn’t think I’d get to hear from you tonight.”

Your smile deepened. “Didn’t think I’d get to talk to you tonight. I figured you’d be busy until tomorrow.”

“We just wrapped up shooting a bit ago. Got a little break before dinner and a live later with Jimin,” he explained. You could hear the faint background murmur of staff and maybe some crew members talking, but his attention was fully on you. “So, your message came at the perfect time.”

You let out a little laugh. “Lucky me.”

“You sound…” he paused, amused. “Tipsy?”

“Just a little,” you admitted, laughing again. “We went to that karaoke place near Eumi’s neighborhood. I may or may not have screamed my way through half the BTS discography.”

“Oh no.” Jungkook chuckled, the sound deep and fond. “Was it fun?”

“The most fun I’ve had in weeks,” you said, stretching your legs out on the couch. “I think Pascal filmed some of it, actually. I’m terrified to see what he got.”

Jungkook hummed noncommittally. “Yeah? I bet it was cute.”

“Cute? Please. It was chaotic—catastrophic. I almost fell off the little stage. Eumi forgot half the words and tried to give me her part—like I could pull that off. I think Flora even brock a mic. We all nearly cried from laughing.” There was a small beat of silence on the line before Jungkook said, a little too smoothly, “Did you fall off the stage before or after the body roll?”

You froze. Your eyes narrowed. “…Wait. How do you know about the body roll?”

His laughter burst through the speaker. “Pascal might’ve sent me a little something earlier.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned, burying your face in a cushion. “He didn’t!”

“He did.” Jungkook was grinning—you could hear it. “And honestly? Best thing I’ve seen all day. I think you nearly made Yoongi cry.”

“Jungkook!”

“You were amazing,” he teased gently. “Questionable dance choices—but amazing.”

“I'm never speaking to Pascal again.”

“You’re lying.”

“Okay… I might yell at him a little first and then forgive him. But still.” You laughed despite your embarrassment, cheeks warming. “That’s blackmail material.”

“Nope. That’s wallpaper material,” Jungkook said softly. “You have no idea how much I needed that laugh today.” The teasing faded into something softer between you—his voice warm in your ear, his laughter still echoing in your chest. You curled up tighter on the couch, letting the quiet stretch for a moment.

Then, lightly, you said, “Dong’s been on his matchmaking kick again.” Jungkook let out a soft sound of confusion. “Matchmaking?”

“Yeah. After the second round of drinks, he started again asking why I’m still single.” You laughed under your breath, eyes on the ceiling. “He’s been convinced I need a boyfriend for weeks.” There was a pause. Then a low, amused hum. “Dong… he’s the one with the green hair, right?”

“Mhm. Nice guy, kind of like a human golden retriever, but relentless.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook said again, slower this time. “You think he’s into you?”

You snorted. “I don’t think so. I mean—maybe? But it’s more like… he thinks I need someone to take care of me. Like I’m out here tragically pining or something.”

“Well,” Jungkook said, mock-affronted, “I am taking care of you.”

You grinned. “I know. You’re doing a great job, too.” There was a beat of silence, and then Jungkook asked, more seriously, “What did you tell him?”

You hesitated, fingers picking at the edge of a cushion. “That I’m fine. That I’m not looking.”

“Not looking?” he echoed.

“I mean… I can’t tell anyone I already have a boyfriend,” you said quietly. “Except Pascal and Flora?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, his voice softer now.

“Pascal’s a good buffer,” you added. “He steps in whenever Dong starts getting too nosy, changes the subject, or drags me off to get more snacks or something. Flora too, if he catches on. But it’s still weird not being able to say anything.” You could hear the way Jungkook’s breathing shifted, the heaviness of his silence weighing between you like a held breath.

“I hate that I can’t tell anyone you’re mine,” he murmured, his words laced with quiet frustration. “That I can’t tell the guys hitting on you to back off. Can’t post about you, or even hold your hand in public.” He sighed. “But I really appreciate you being honest with me about it all.”

You pressed your cheek against the couch cushion, trying to keep your voice steady. “Of course I am.”

“I miss you more in moments like this,” he said softly. “When I know someone else might be seeing you smile, hearing you laugh, and I can't be there. I want to kiss you even more when it feels like I shouldn’t.”

“I miss you,” you admitted, your voice low. Jungkook’s voice dropped an octave, losing all its teasing lilt—suddenly quieter, more intimate. “How much do you miss me?” The way he said it sent a flicker of heat down your spine. Your breath hitched, and you felt your fingers curl tighter around your phone.

“A lot, Jungkook,” you whispered. There was a pause on his end, followed by a subtle, gravelly hum that made your chest ache. Just then, you heard the faint click of a door in the background on his end—maybe someone entering, or him slipping into a quieter space. When he spoke again, his voice was different. Focused. Steady. All the playful teasing from earlier was gone.

“What do you miss the most?” he asked. You smiled into the quiet, feeling your chest tighten at the sincerity in his voice. You didn’t rush to answer, letting the moment stretch.

“Bam,” you said eventually, with a soft teasing note. There was a beat of silence—then Jungkook groaned dramatically, laughing under his breath. “I’m trying to be sexy here. Work with me.”

You laughed too, your mood lighter already. “I thought you had a live you needed to go to?”

“I do,” he said, sighing again—but this time it was reluctant. “Just later. I want… to take care of you. If you want to stay up with me a little longer?” You closed your eyes, heart soft and full. “Yeah. I do.” You hesitated, chewing on your lip. “I… I’m just not sure how the phone thing works. Like… I don’t want to mess anything up.” You laughed a little, sheepish. “God, that sounds dumb.”

“It doesn’t,” he said instantly, gentle and reassuring. “I went to my room. I’m alone now—door’s locked. I’ve got time. If you want to try, I’ll talk you through it.”

You nodded, a small, automatic movement before you remembered he couldn’t see you. “Okay,” you said quietly, breath catching just a little. “Yeah. I want to.”

There was a pause on his end—then the sound he made was low, husky, full of quiet anticipation. It wasn’t overt, but it was heavy with promise, a kind of intimacy you could feel down your spine. It told you he was ready to be patient. Ready to match your pace.

You heard the soft rustle of sheets as he shifted, the faint creak of his mattress, the muffled thump of something—maybe his hoodie hitting the floor. The normal sounds of him settling in, suddenly layered with something new.

“You’re okay,” he said after a beat, and there was something so grounding in his tone, like he was reminding you this wasn’t a performance. “It’s just me. Just us.” Your breath shook as you inhaled. “I know. I just… haven’t done this.” Jungkook exhaled slowly, the sound barely caught by the mic. “I got you.”

You could tell he meant it. Then, quietly—like a secret slipping between the cracks of the night—he said, “You don’t have to worry about a thing, okay? I’ll take care of you.” The certainty in his voice made your breath catch. There was no hesitation, no doubt—just calm, grounded confidence that wrapped around you like a blanket. “We’ll go slow,” Jungkook continued, his tone gentle but sure. “I’ll lead. You just breathe and stay with me. That’s all you need to do.” A lump formed in your throat, full of quiet vulnerability and something deeper—trust, maybe. Or the need to give it to someone who wouldn’t drop it.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice small and honest. “I trust you.” He breathed your name in return, soft and reverent, a kind of vow that settled over your chest like warm sunlight breaking through a winter windowpane.

“Good,” he said, his voice dipping slightly, more velvet than sound. Then you heard it again—faint shuffling, the sound of him shifting, settling, waiting for you. The night felt still and pulsing all at once, strung tight between your phone and his voice.

“Are you lying down somewhere comfortable?”, his voice soft but edged with quiet intent. You shifted slightly, the cushions beneath you creaking. “I’m still on the couch,” you admitted, glancing down at yourself. “I… I didn’t even change. I messaged you right after I kicked off my shoes at the door.” There was a short beat of silence on the line before he let out a low, affectionate sound—half laugh, half coo. “You needed to hear me that badly, huh?” Your cheeks warmed, but you smiled. “Yeah.”

“I love that,” he said quietly, and something about his voice made your chest tighten. “But that won’t do. I want you comfortable. That means going to your bedroom.” You bit your lip, nodding even though he couldn’t see it. “O-okay,” you murmured, pushing yourself up. “And out of those pants,” he added gently. “I want you to really relax. Can you do that for me?”

Your breath caught for a second. There was nothing crude in the way he said it—just warmth, intention, care. Still, you felt a shy blush bloom across your face. “Okay,” you whispered, voice nearly inaudible as you made your way toward the bedroom.

He didn’t rush you. You could hear him waiting, the faint sound of his breathing and maybe the quiet rustle of fabric on his end. It grounded you. “I’m in my room,” you said softly, kicking the door closed behind you with your heel. You reached for the button of your jeans, fingers fumbling slightly. “I… I took off my pants.”

There was a quiet hum on the other end of the line. Jungkook’s tone dipped lower, warm and full of approval. “Good girl,” he said. “Tell me what you are doing.” You swallowed, heart fluttering in your throat. “I’m in front of my bed. Just… just in my top, bra, and panties now.” A beat passed. His breath hitched softly. “You did good,” he murmured, voice like velvet. “Now lie down. I want you warm and relaxed.”

You climbed onto the bed, tucking yourself against the pillows and drawing the blanket loosely over your hips. The coolness of the sheets against your bare legs made you shiver. Once settled, you exhaled shakily. “This is… weird,” you confessed, cheeks burning.

Jungkook chuckled, low and fond. “That’s okay. You’re doing really well.” Then, softer, he asked, “Do you want to stop?” Your heart stuttered, because he sounded genuine—not disappointed, not frustrated. Just making sure. “No,” you said, the word quick and certain, even if your voice trembled a little. “I want to keep going.” There was a pause. And then his voice again—so full of affection, so gently commanding it made your toes curl.

“Alright,” Jungkook’s voice dipped lower, like warm silk poured over your skin. “Get your shirt of for me,” he said softly. “You need to feel your skin.” Your hand trembled as you obeyed, bunching the fabric of your top until the cool air kissed the warmth of your stomach. You pressed your palm there gently, and the intimacy of the act—doing it for him, guided by only his voice—made your breath catch.

“I’d love to kiss you there,” he murmured. “Right on your tummy… slow. Soft. You’d feel my lips before you’d even see my face. Can you touch where you’d want me to kiss you?” You swallowed thickly, your hand brushing over your stomach again, then up, tracing the curve of your ribs, grazing the side of your breast. You dared a pass over the top of your panties, the soft cotton warm from your skin. You inhaled shakily, your breath hitching loud enough for him to hear.

“Where did you imagine me kissing you?” he asked, his tone quieter now—lower, darker. You hesitated. “There,” you said, voice barely a whisper. “On my stomach… my chest… and…” you paused, heat rushing to your cheeks, fingers curling slightly. “And between my legs.”

The silence on the line was broken by a sharp exhale from him—half groan, half breathless curse. “God,” Jungkook muttered, and your name followed, rough on his tongue. “You’d want that?” Your heart pounded as you nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “I think about it.”

He let out another slow breath, almost as if he were trying to steady himself. “I’d love that too,” he said. “I’d kiss you, taste you… take my time. Then sink my fingers into you so slow.” His voice was tight now, careful. “Would you be wet enough for me?”

You shivered at the question, body already thrumming with the heaviness of want. But you made a soft, unsure sound—almost embarrassed at not knowing, at being this turned on just from his voice. “Then check,” Jungkook said gently, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Just… slip your panties to the side. Touch yourself. Feel what I do to you.” With shaking fingers, you did as he asked. And the moment your fingertips grazed over your center, slick and sensitive, you gasped—a quiet, surprised “oh” slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Jungkook groaned like he’d been punched in the gut. “You’re already that wet?” he asked, his voice breaking around the edges. “Y/N…”

“Jungkook…” you whispered helplessly, his name trembling from your mouth like a prayer, like a need too big to hold in your chest. “Keep touching yourself,” Jungkook said softly—his voice so low it nearly unraveled you. There was a rasp to it now, almost like he was the one aching. “Please, Y/N... don’t stop.”

The word “please” caught you off guard. It was nearly a whisper, and something in the way he said it made your heart twist. It wasn’t just lust—it was longing, it was closeness across thousands of miles. He wasn’t just turned on. He was with you.

You swallowed hard, your hand still resting between your legs as your body pulsed with need. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, imagining him doing it, and let your fingers move just the tiniest bit—exploring what was already so sensitive.

“Jungkook…” you breathed, voice cracking. “I—I feel too empty.” It came out unfiltered, ungraceful, and filled with frustrated need. You winced at your own words, feeling like you were doing this all wrong, too awkward, too vulnerable. But Jungkook’s voice came right back, steady and tender. “Breathe. Just breathe for me.”

You took a shaky breath in, and the gentle hush of his voice wrapped around you like a blanket.

“I know, jagi. I know,” he said. “I would love nothing more than to be there right now… to fill you, to touch you how you deserve. But right now, I need your help. Can you do that for me?” His voice was like heaven—deep, rich, coaxing every wall you had to melt into warmth.

You nodded automatically, your lips parting with a soft sound of agreement before remembering again that he couldn’t see you. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I… I can.” There was a pause—just the sound of him breathing on the other end—and then he let out a low, ragged groan at your willingness.

“What… what should I do?” you asked quietly. “How should I touch myself How would you...?” He exhaled sharply. You could hear it in his throat, the way your words knocked the air from him. “Ugh,” he whispered. “You’re perfect. You have no idea what you do to me.” Then, after a beat, his voice came back with that same gentle authority that made you want to listen to every word. “Start slow, jagi. Just one finger, okay? Take your time.”

You let your fingers glide over yourself again—more intentionally this time, more aware of how wet you were, how much your body was already responding to his voice alone. “Tell me how it feels,” Jungkook said, quieter now. “I want to hear it all. I want to imagine it like I’m there.”

You bit your lip and whimpered softly, hips tilting into your hand. “Warm… and soft,” you managed, barely forming the words. “Sensitive. I… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Jungkook let out another broken sound on the other end, like he was barely holding it together. You did exactly as Jungkook had asked—slow, careful, drawing little circles over where you were aching, your clint, letting your breath catch and spill into the phone over and over. For a few moments, the world narrowed down to the quiet between you, filled with the soft sounds of your breathing and his voice—low, patient, completely wrapped around you like velvet.

But the softness didn’t last long. “Jungkook,” you whimpered, his name escaping like a gasp, a plea already halfway formed on your lips. “I… I… I am—”

You broke off with a breathy groan, unable to hold back the wave of feeling rushing up from inside you. Jungkook let out a quiet laugh, warm and knowing. “Impatient already?” He knew you well now. Well enough to tease without hurting, to press without pushing.

“Not impatient,” you huffed, breath shallow. “Just… wet. I’m so wet, I need more. Please.”

You heard him inhale sharply. “Jagi,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to kill me.” There was the sound of shifting fabric, and then his tone dropped, deep and reverent. “You’ve been so good for me… go ahead. Use a second finger. I want you to feel full.”

You didn’t hesitate. And the moment your body adjusted, you let out a soft, satisfied groan—sweet and aching. It felt better. Not complete, not even close, but better. Jungkook groaned softly in response, the sound wrecked and raw. “That sound—God, I wish I could see you. I should’ve called you on FaceTime.”

You smiled into the phone, flushed and breathing heavy, your voice quiet but daring. “Jungkook… what am I doing to you right now?” There was silence for a moment, just the sound of him shifting, and then he chuckled under his breath—a low, broken sound.

“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured. “That sound you make—I swear I can taste you on my lips. It’s like my body thinks I’m there with you.” You whimpered again, and his voice dropped even lower. “I’m so hard,” he admitted, breath catching. “I had to… I couldn’t just sit here doing nothing. I needed to touch myself too. Just enough to keep the edge off. Just enough to not lose it.”

Even without seeing him, you could picture him—lips parted, brow furrowed, the way his hair might fall into his eyes as he held himself. Precum slowly dripping down his shaft. The distance between your bodies was sharp, but the connection? That was blinding.

“I wish you were here,” you whispered.

Jungkook hummed, pained and tender. “I’m with you, jagi. Right here.”

“I want to hear you too,” you whisper, voice breathless and edged with a quiet plea. “Jungkook… I need to hear you.”

For a beat, there’s nothing. Then a low groan hums through the line—deep, rough, drawn from somewhere at the very core of him. Your breath catches. It’s not just a sound—it’s him unraveling, just for you.

“Yeah?” he growls, “Nothing compares to the way you make me feel… even miles away.” The words are choked with awe and aching want, reverent and real. “I want to touch you. Push your tiny little hand away and fill you so good. You would feel so good around me too. All wet and tight. Wouldn’t you?” You shudder, clinging to the sound of his voice as if it could hold you. He was so far—but he felt like he was right there, breathing with you, guiding you.

“Touch yourself more,” he says, voice growing firm but still laced with heat. “Faster now. I want you to feel it—I want your body to remember this the next time I see you. Because the moment I get my hands on you again…” he pauses, breath catching. “I’ll make sure you feel so full again. Watch how I would sink myself inside you. Give you exactly what you need. Play with your pretty tits. Fuck you stupid. Till you not even remember your own name.”

The sound that slips from your lips is helpless, wanting. You obey—your fingers moving faster, your thumb finding that perfect spot—and it’s almost too much. Your body tenses, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter.

“I’m close,” you manage to gasp, trembling. “Jungkook—I’m so close—”

“Don’t stop,” he growls, the command wrapped in velvet and fire. “Don’t you dare stop, Jagi. You are mine. Come for me.” That tone—that authority—it sends you over the edge.

Your breath fractures. Your back arches. A cry escapes you, raw and quiet and broken as pleasure crashes through you like a wave. Your legs tremble, heart racing, the high cresting through you in pulsing waves. You can’t even think—you can only feel, and he’s right there on the other end of it.

Then—his voice again. A hoarse groan. A curse, hot and bitten off.

“God, fuck,” he pants, the words all tangled and soft. “You did so well for me. So perfect.”

You try to catch your breath—but something else creeps in with the aftershocks. A quiet ache. Your chest tightens. Your eyes sting. And before you can stop it, the words slip free, fragile and cracked. “I want you here with me, Jungkook,” you whisper. “Right now. I just… I want you here.”

The line is quiet for a heartbeat. Then you hear him exhale, shaky and low. “I know, jagi,” he murmurs, voice suddenly tender again, grounding. “I want that too. So bad. More than you know.” And even though your bodies are worlds apart, his voice is right there with you—soft and real, brushing against the rawest part of your heart. “Just a little longer,” he whispers. “We’ll be together soon. I promise.”

You nod again, even though he can’t see it—biting your lip, trying to will away the tears that threaten to spill. Your body is still trembling, not from the release, but from the ache of distance. Of loving someone who can’t hold you tonight.

A whisper leaves your lips, cracked and quiet. “Okay…”

And it breaks Jungkook’s heart a little. Not just because you sounded so small—but because he knows that ache. He feels it too, right now, in the hollow between his ribs where your warmth should be. And he can’t help you with it, not how you deserve. He clenches his jaw, breathes slowly through his nose.

Tomorrow—he needed to talk to his agent first thing. He didn’t care what meetings or rehearsals got shuffled. He needed to see you sooner, even if only for a day. Just long enough to hold you in his arms and kiss the doubt and ache from your chest.

“I can stay on the phone a little longer,” Jungkook says gently. “If you want. We don’t have to hang up yet.” You hesitate, the ache still raw in your chest. “Don’t you… didn’t you say you might go live with Jimin tonight?”

There’s a pause—brief but telling—and then his voice comes through, warm and certain. “Yeah, I need to. But that can wait. You come first. I always have time for you.” Your throat tightens, eyes stinging again—not from sadness now, but from how easily he says that. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like loving you isn’t an inconvenience, but a priority.

“Can you…” you pause to clear your throat softly, “Can you tell me about your day?”

“Of course,” he says, voice immediately softening even more, like he’s settling in just to be close to you. “You wanna hear about the boring stuff or the good stuff?”

“All of it,” you whisper, letting yourself sink further into your pillow, needing his voice to anchor you. “Even the boring stuff. I just want to hear you.”

And just like that, he starts talking—gentle, rambling little details about his day: training, rehearsal, the new concept, what he had for lunch, a funny thing one of the staff said. And every word he speaks eases the weight pressing down on your chest. He says your name so gently it feels like a kiss. “I miss you too.” His admits. Quiet. Honest. “More than I thought was possible.”

There’s a pause. Neither of you say anything for a moment. You just breathe together—connected by the line, by the silence, by the way your hearts beat in tandem even with oceans between you. “You were beautiful tonight,” he says after a while. “Not just the… y’know.” He chuckles gently. “But, trying this with me. Trusting me. I don’t take that for granted. Not for a second. And… I didn’t want to make you sad tonight.”

You sniff, and this time, it’s a little laugh through your tears. “I am not sad. I’m glad you called.”

“I’d call every night, if it made you feel close,” he says. “If it helped you sleep.”

You feel better now. So much better. After hearing his voice, after the way he touched you with nothing but words—pulling you apart so sweetly and then putting you back together even gentler. Your heart no longer feels like it’s splintering under the weight of missing him. And now that you're settled, soft and safe again, you exhale a little laugh.

“You should clean up,” you murmur into the phone, your voice teasing but still thick with affection. Jungkook chuckles lowly, and the sound feels like velvet slipping down your spine. “Are you kicking me off the phone now?” he asks playfully.

“Well,” you hum, “you said you need to go live with Jimin… You should go. I’m okay now.”

There's a hesitation—just a beat, but you hear it. Feel it.

“Are you sure?” he asks, serious now, no teasing left. “I don’t wanna leave you if you’re still feeling shaky.”

“I’m not,” you say, a little smile curling on your lips. “You already fixed me. Twice, actually. So go already. I’m want to watch you.”

“You’re gonna what?” he teases, his grin practically audible. “I’m gonna watch the live,” you reply, grinning now. “For as long as I can stay awake. That way… I still get to see you today.” Jungkook groans playfully. “That’s so unfair. You get to look at me, and I still don’t get to see your pretty face.”

You laugh, blushing quietly. “Next time.”

His voice softens again. “Last chance. Are you sure you’re good?”

“Yes, Jungkook. I’m good. Go. Or Jimin will roast you for being late.”

He sighs with a dramatic little pout you can imagine so clearly. “Okay, okay. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, the call ends, the line going quiet—but your chest feels warm instead of empty this time.

After a quick bathroom run and a change of clothes—your pj’s to be precise. You tuck yourself deeper into the blankets, cheeks still flushed and heart beating slow and soft. You blink sleepily at the screen and smile as you connect to Jimin’s live, waiting for Jungkook to appear.

The live is cozy—Jimin is sitting cross-legged on the floor, talking directly to the camera, his tone light and animated as he tells the ARMYs a story about rehearsal mishaps and how he nearly tripped over his own feet during a practice run.

And then—a knock echoes offscreen.

Jimin pauses mid-sentence, blinking at the door. “Oh?” he says, glancing back. “Hold on, everyone. Someone’s at my door.”

You watch the screen tilt slightly as Jimin sets the phone down and walks off-camera. The audio picks up the sound of him unlocking and opening the door—and then a familiar voice laughs low and warm.

“Finally,” Jungkook says.

The camera jostles as Jimin comes back into frame, followed by Jungkook, who’s dressed down in a hoodie and loose joggers, his dark hair slightly messy. He gives a small, sheepish wave at the camera with that signature bunny grin.

“Yah,” Jimin says, sitting again, “took you long enough.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says with an innocent laugh. “I had something important to do.”

Jimin side-eyes him but doesn’t press. Instead, he scoots over to give Jungkook room and nudges him in the ribs. “Well, welcome. Everyone’s been waiting.”

Your heart flutters as Jungkook settles in beside Jimin, his smile soft but tired. He looks down at the screen and waves again, his fingers brushing his bottom lip like they still remember you. “Please forgive me, ARMY.”

And just like that, the ache of missing him melts into something gentler. And as he settles into the live, talking and laughing beside Jimin, you curl into your blanket, watching him glow on your screen.

You watch them—Jimin chatting animatedly, gesturing with his hands as he recounts some hilarious backstage mishap, while Jungkook lounges beside him, relaxed and quiet at first, just listening. His legs are sprawled comfortably in front of him, one arm propped behind his head as he leans slightly toward Jimin, eyes soft with amusement as his friend rambles.

You're curled on your side, the phone warm in your hand, the screen casting a gentle glow against your cheeks. Your eyes blink slower now, sleep brushing over your lashes like a wave, but you keep watching.

Jungkook glances down at his phone for a second, his thumb moving casually as he types something. Then—suddenly—his whole face breaks into a wide, boyish grin. That unmistakable, gummy smile. He tries to bite it back, but fails miserably, and he looks up at the camera with his ears turning faintly pink. Jimin gives him a look, raising an eyebrow. “What?” he asks suspiciously.

Jungkook just shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says with a shrug, barely able to keep a straight face. Jimin squints at him, but then drops it, turning back to the stream. “He’s being weird again,” he tells the viewers. “Just ignore him.”

But your screen lights up with a new notification—and your heart does a slow somersault.

Kookie 🖤: Good night. Don’t stay up too long.

Your breath catches as warmth spreads through your chest, your lips parting in the kind of smile that only he could pull out of you—tired, shy, and so full of affection it aches. On the screen, Jungkook’s still grinning stupidly, his eyes twinkling under the soft room light, like he knows exactly what he's just done to you.

You reply with a quiet tap of your fingers:

You: I won’t. I just wanted to see you a little longer.

Then you let your phone slip down slightly, resting it on the pillow beside you as you watch him one last time tonight. His laugh rumbles low when Jimin teases him again, and you tuck yourself in tighter, safe in the knowledge that you’re still on his mind.

Even when the screen finally goes dark, and your eyes close, you carry that image with you—Jungkook, smiling just for you. The ache hasn’t disappeared completely—but it’s dulled by the quiet certainty that he’s yours. Even when the distance stretches far, his heart is still wrapped around you.

And for now, that’s more than enough.

Masterlist

Tags: @dachshunddame @hecatesdescendant

A/N: Hi! Just wanted to mention that I use ChatGPT and DeepL to clean up grammar and spelling in my writing. English is my second language, and this tools help me share stories the way I imagine them, without spending hours double-checking every word. Writing is just a hobby I enjoy after a full workweek—I’m not trying to make money from it. If you’re curious or have thoughts on it, I’d love to have a friendly discussion!

#jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook bts #bts #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #just a normal night

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kenzdolls · 1 month ago

Text

OBLIVIOUSNESS . 5.8k

𖤐 synopsis: you’ve just arrived as the new student of ua, and kirishima and bakugou have grown a liking to you. but, you’re very oblivious to their feelings.

𖤐 pairing: katsuki bakugo + eijiro kirishima x fem! reader

𖤐 sent in by: @cosmopretty

𖤐 trigger warnings: mild violence, mild swearing [katsuki duh]

𖤐 side note: this has some ooc of the quirk for reader.

you took a deep breath as you stared up at the imposing gates of ua high school. after your family's unexpected move to japan, you never imagined you'd end up transferring to the most prestigious hero school in the country. yet here you were, your quirk—the ability to temporarily absorb and redirect kinetic energy—deemed impressive enough to warrant a mid-semester transfer to class 1-a.

"you can do this," you whispered to yourself, adjusting your new uniform one last time before stepping through the gates.

the school was even more impressive on the inside than you'd imagined. massive hallways lined with windows stretched before you, and students with incredible quirks milled about, chatting and laughing as if attending the top hero academy in japan was completely normal.

"are you the new transfer student?" a friendly voice called out.

you turned to see a tall boy with glasses approaching you, his movements almost robotically precise. he adjusted his glasses with a crisp motion.

"i am iida tenya, class 1-a representative! it is my duty to escort you to our classroom and ensure your integration is smooth and efficient!"

his enthusiasm made you smile despite your nerves. "yes, that's me. i'm y/n. thank you for the help."

"excellent! follow me, and i will explain the essential protocols of ua as we proceed!"

as iida led you through the school, practically speed-walking while delivering an impromptu lecture on ua's rules and schedules, you tried to absorb as much information as possible. but your mind kept wandering to what your new classmates would be like. would they accept you? would your quirk measure up?

——

"class, we have a new student joining us today," aizawa-sensei announced in his usual monotone voice, barely looking up from his papers. he looked tired, wrapped in his yellow sleeping bag despite standing at the podium. "please introduce yourself."

you smiled nervously as twenty pairs of curious eyes fixed on you. the classroom fell silent, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"hi everyone! i'm y/n. i just moved here from overseas. my quirk is energy redirection—i can absorb kinetic energy and release it when needed. i'm really excited to train with all of you and become a hero!"

as you scanned the classroom, your gaze lingered momentarily on two boys sitting near each other. one had spiky ash-blonde hair and intense crimson eyes that seemed to be studying you with unusual interest. his posture was confident, borderline arrogant, with his feet propped up on his desk despite iida's obvious disapproval.

the other boy had vibrant red hair styled in sharp points and a friendly smile that instantly put you at ease. unlike the blonde, he was leaning forward in his seat, looking genuinely interested in your introduction.

"you can take the empty seat behind kirishima," aizawa pointed to the red-haired boy, who immediately turned around and flashed you a sharp-toothed grin.

"hey there! i'm kirishima eijiro! your quirk sounds super manly!" his enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn't help but smile back.

"thanks, i'm still working on controlling it completely. sometimes i absorb too much energy at once and it's hard to regulate the release."

"that's so cool though! my quirk is hardening," he demonstrated by hardening his arm, which turned jagged and rock-like. "not as flashy as yours, but it gets the job done!"

"i think it's amazing," you replied honestly, impressed by the transformation.

"tch, another extra joining the class," the blonde boy grumbled, though his eyes never left you. there was something about his gaze that didn't match his dismissive tone—he seemed to be assessing you, calculating.

"don't mind bakugo," kirishima laughed, nudging the blonde's shoulder with surprising familiarity. "that's just his way of saying hello. he's actually really awesome once you get to know him. best explosion quirk in the school!"

bakugo scowled but didn't correct him. "if you're going to be in the hero course, you better not slow the rest of us down," he said to you, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes that belied his harsh words.

"i'll try to keep up," you replied with a small smile, refusing to be intimidated.

something like approval flashed across bakugo's face before he turned back around in his seat.

"all right, enough socializing," aizawa called out, fully emerging from his sleeping bag. "let's begin today's lesson."

——

your first week at ua was a whirlwind of new faces, challenging classes, and grueling training sessions. you quickly learned that ua's reputation for excellence was well-earned—every student was pushed to their limits daily.

to your surprise, you found yourself frequently in kirishima and bakugo's company. it started during your first practical training session when all might paired you with kirishima.

"young y/n! let's see how your energy redirection works with young kirishima's hardening! a fine combination of offense and defense!" the legendary hero boomed.

you and kirishima clicked immediately as training partners. his hardened body could deliver powerful impacts that you could absorb and redirect, multiplying the force. by the end of the session, even all might was impressed.

"excellent teamwork!" he announced, giving you both a thumbs up.

"that was amazing!" kirishima high-fived you, his sharp teeth gleaming in a wide smile. "we're like the perfect combo!"

"not bad," came a gruff voice from behind you. bakugo stood there, arms crossed but eyes attentive. "your quirk might actually be useful in a real fight."

coming from bakugo, you quickly realized this was high praise.

"thanks," you replied, genuinely pleased. "i saw you training too—your explosions are incredible."

"hell yeah they are," he said with a smirk, but there was less hostility in his tone than before.

"hey, y/n!" kirishima chimed in. "a bunch of us usually study together at the library after classes. you should join us!"

"really? that would be great, actually. i'm still catching up on some of the material."

"awesome! bakugo comes too—he's actually super smart, even if he pretends not to care."

"shut up, shitty hair," bakugo growled, but there was no real malice behind it.

you noticed something then—a certain softness in bakugo's eyes when he looked at kirishima, a subtle shift in his perpetually angry expression. and the way kirishima could touch bakugo's arm or shoulder without getting blasted across the room… it spoke of a closeness that went beyond ordinary friendship.

——

over the next few weeks, you found yourself spending more and more time with both kirishima and bakugo. what started as kirishima offering to help you catch up on training quickly evolved into the three of you studying together, having lunch together, and even hanging out after school.

one afternoon, you were studying in the library with them when you noticed bakugo uncharacteristically helping kirishima understand a complex hero law concept.

"no, hair-for-brains, the liability statute only applies if the civilian was already in danger," bakugo explained, his voice softer than usual. his shoulder pressed against kirishima's as he pointed to a passage in the textbook.

"ohhh, i get it now!" kirishima beamed, practically glowing under bakugo's attention. "you explain it way better than the book, bakugo!"

"that's because the book was written by idiots," bakugo muttered, but a small, proud smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

you watched this exchange with growing realization. the lingering touches, the softened voices, the private smiles—they weren't just close friends. there was something more between them.

"y/n, you okay?" kirishima asked, noticing your thoughtful expression.

"oh! yeah, i'm fine," you replied quickly. "just trying to understand this material."

"want me to help you too?" kirishima offered eagerly. "bakugo just explained it really well!"

"sure," you smiled, sliding your chair closer to theirs. as kirishima launched into an explanation, with occasional corrections from bakugo, you couldn't help but feel a warm sense of belonging. these two boys, as different as they were, had somehow made room for you in their world.

what you didn't know was that the two boys had been dating quietly for a few months before your arrival. and now, they both found themselves increasingly drawn to you, a development that surprisingly didn't cause jealousy but rather mutual understanding between them.

——

"i think she's amazing," kirishima confessed to bakugo one evening as they walked home after parting ways with you. the sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over them. "the way she handled that simulation exercise today was incredible."

"she's got good instincts," bakugo grudgingly admitted, which was high praise coming from him. "and she doesn't take shit from anyone."

just that afternoon, you had stood your ground when monoma from class 1-b tried to belittle your quirk. your calm but cutting response had left him speechless, and bakugo had actually laughed out loud.

"you like her too," kirishima nudged him, grinning knowingly.

"shut up, hair-for-brains." bakugo shoved his hands in his pockets, but he didn't deny it.

they walked in comfortable silence for a few moments before kirishima spoke again.

"you know, we could…"

"could what?"

"tell her. about us. and how we both feel about her."

bakugo was silent for a long moment. "you think that would work? us and her?"

"i don't know," kirishima shrugged, reaching out to take bakugo's hand. "but i think it's worth trying. the way she looks at you when you're training… and she always sits next to you at lunch even though you pretend to be annoyed."

"she sits next to you too, idiot."

"exactly," kirishima grinned. "i think she likes both of us."

bakugo squeezed kirishima's hand, his expression thoughtful. "let's give it a few more days. make sure."

——

meanwhile, you remained completely oblivious to their feelings. to you, kirishima was just being his usual friendly self, and bakugo's gradual softening around you seemed like normal friendship development. you didn't notice how kirishima always found excuses to sit next to you during class, or how bakugo's eyes followed you during training sessions.

you also didn't see how the rest of the class had started to notice the dynamic between the three of you.

"y/n is so clueless," mina whispered to uraraka during lunch one day, her yellow eyes darting toward where you sat between kirishima and bakugo. "those two are practically tripping over themselves for her attention."

"wait, i thought kirishima and bakugo were together?" uraraka asked, confused. "i've seen them holding hands when they think no one's looking."

"they are," tsuyu joined in, her finger on her chin thoughtfully. "but they both seem to like y/n too. kero."

"that's… actually kind of sweet," uraraka smiled, watching as kirishima offered you some of his lunch and bakugo pretended not to notice but still pushed his dessert toward you when he thought no one was looking.

"i wonder if she knows," mina mused.

"i don't think she does," todoroki unexpectedly joined the conversation. "she looks at them the same way they look at her when the other isn't watching."

the girls turned to him in surprise.

"what?" he shrugged. "it's obvious."

——

the next day, you were paired with kirishima for rescue training. the scenario involved rescuing civilians (represented by weighted dummies) from a collapsing building.

"ready for this?" kirishima asked, flexing his hardened arms with excitement.

"born ready," you grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. over the past weeks, your control over your quirk had improved immensely, partly thanks to kirishima and bakugo's help during extra training sessions.

as you entered the training zone, the simulated building began to crumble around you. kirishima immediately hardened his body and shielded you from falling debris.

"thanks!" you called out, already moving toward the first dummy.

"no problem! that's what heroes do!" he replied, his smile impossibly bright despite the chaotic environment.

working together seamlessly, you began evacuating the "civilians." kirishima would break through obstacles while you used your absorbed energy to clear paths or boost your speed to reach stranded dummies.

at one point, a particularly large piece of concrete came crashing down. kirishima hardened just in time, catching it inches above your head.

"that was close," you breathed, finding yourself suddenly very close to him, his face just inches from yours.

"i'd never let anything happen to you," he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. for a moment, time seemed to stand still as you stared into each other's eyes.

the spell was broken by aizawa's voice over the intercom. "five minutes remaining."

you both snapped back to the task at hand, but something had shifted between you and kirishima—a new awareness that hadn't been there before.

from the observation deck, bakugo watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, not out of jealousy but with growing certainty. the way you looked at kirishima… it was the same way you sometimes looked at him when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

——

the breaking point came during a joint training session a few days later. you were paired with bakugo against kirishima and todoroki in a capture-the-flag style exercise. the objective was to either secure the opposing team's flag or immobilize both opponents.

"don't hold me back," bakugo warned as you took your positions, but there was no bite to his words.

"wouldn't dream of it," you replied with a smirk. "i've got a strategy if you're willing to hear it."

bakugo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "let's hear it."

you quickly outlined a plan that would use his explosions and your energy redirection to create a diversion while also setting up a powerful combo attack. to your surprise, bakugo actually listened without interrupting.

"not bad," he admitted when you finished. "let's do it."

as the exercise began, you and bakugo moved with surprising synchronicity. you flanked todoroki and kirishima's position, with bakugo launching calculated explosions that you partly absorbed, building up energy for the decisive moment.

when todoroki created an ice wall to block your advance, bakugo blasted through it, creating a shower of ice fragments that momentarily distracted them. in that perfect opening, you released all your stored energy in a concentrated wave that knocked todoroki off his feet.

kirishima, hardened and prepared, charged toward you. bakugo moved without hesitation, positioning himself between you and kirishima.

"now!" he shouted.

understanding instantly, you placed your hand on bakugo's back, absorbing the kinetic energy as he created a massive explosion directed at the ground. the force would have thrown both of you backward, but you channeled the energy and redirected it forward, propelling bakugo like a missile straight into kirishima.

the impact was calculated perfectly—strong enough to push kirishima back but not enough to hurt him seriously through his hardening. the momentum carried bakugo and kirishima tumbling to the ground, with bakugo quickly pinning the red-haired boy.

"gotcha," bakugo grinned triumphantly.

meanwhile, you dashed for their flag, snatching it just as todoroki was getting back to his feet.

"victory to team bakugo and y/n!" all might's voice boomed over the speakers.

you ran over to where bakugo still had kirishima pinned, both boys looking up at you with expressions of admiration—kirishima's open and bright, bakugo's subtle but unmistakable.

"that was fucking amazing!" bakugo exclaimed, finally releasing kirishima and grabbing your shoulders with an excited gleam in his eyes that you'd never seen before. "the way you redirected my explosion—nobody's ever synchronized with my quirk like that!"

"we make a good team," you laughed, slightly breathless from the fight and his unexpected praise.

"hell yeah we do," he agreed, still holding onto you, his crimson eyes locked with yours. for a moment, it seemed like he might say something more, but he released you and stepped back, a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.

"that was amazing you guys!" kirishima jumped up, seemingly unbothered by his defeat. "even though you beat us, the way you handled bakugo's explosions was incredible, y/n! and bakugo, dude, that strategy was genius!"

"thanks," you smiled, accepting the water bottle kirishima offered you. "though i think bakugo did most of the work."

"no way," kirishima shook his head, his eyes sincere. "you two were perfectly in sync. you know, he doesn't work well with just anyone."

"really?" you looked over to where bakugo was now arguing with todoroki about something, gesturing wildly. despite his confrontational stance, you could tell he was more animated than angry. "i feel like i've known you both forever, even though it's only been a few weeks."

kirishima's expression softened. "i know exactly what you mean."

across the training ground, bakugo caught kirishima's eye over todoroki's shoulder. something unspoken passed between them—a silent agreement.

——

later that afternoon, you were in the girls' locker room changing after training when mina sidled up next to you.

"sooo," she drawled, her yellow and black eyes gleaming with mischief. "you, bakugo, and kirishima, huh?"

"what about us?" you asked, genuinely confused as you pulled your uniform shirt on.

"oh come on!" mina groaned dramatically. "the way they look at you? the way you look at them? it's the juiciest drama in class right now!"

"i don't know what you're talking about," you insisted, though you could feel your cheeks warming. "we're just friends."

uraraka joined the conversation with a gentle smile. "y/n, kirishima literally gives you his jacket whenever you say you're cold. and yesterday bakugo yelled at mineta for staring at you for too long."

"that's just kirishima being nice and bakugo being… bakugo," you replied, though a strange flutter was building in your chest.

tsuyu tilted her head. "you really don't see it? kero."

"see what?"

"that they're both totally into you!" mina exclaimed. "and from what i can tell, you're into them too!"

"but they're together," you blurted out before you could stop yourself. you'd never spoken this observation aloud before, but you'd been increasingly certain of it.

the three girls exchanged knowing glances.

"so you've noticed that much at least," mina said. "yes, they are. but that doesn't mean they can't also like you."

you stood there, uniform half-buttoned, mind racing. could it be true? had you been completely missing the signs?

"think about it," uraraka said gently. "how often do they both just happen to be wherever you are?"

"how bakugo is almost nice to you when he's a jerk to everyone else," mina added.

"how kirishima always saves you a seat," tsuyu finished.

as they spoke, dozens of little moments flashed through your mind—bakugo's lingering glances, kirishima's casual touches, the way they always included you… had you really been that oblivious?

"i… i need to think," you mumbled, hastily finishing changing and grabbing your bag.

as you left the locker room, your phone buzzed with a text. it was from kirishima:

hey! bakugo and i were wondering if you could meet us on the roof after school? there's something we want to talk to you about. no pressure though!

your heart skipped a beat as you read the message. after your conversation with the girls, the timing seemed almost too perfect. you hesitated for just a moment before typing back:

sure, see you there.

——

the rest of the day passed in a blur. you couldn't focus on any of your classes, your mind constantly drifting to what kirishima and bakugo might want to talk about. by the time the final bell rang, your stomach was in knots.

you made your way slowly to the roof, each step feeling heavier than the last. what if the girls were wrong? what if this was about something completely different? or worse, what if they had somehow found out about your growing feelings for both of them and wanted to let you down gently?

the sun was setting as you pushed open the door to find both boys waiting, looking uncharacteristically nervous—even bakugo seemed on edge, pacing back and forth while kirishima leaned against the railing.

"hey," you called out softly, causing both to turn toward you simultaneously.

"y/n! you came!" kirishima's face lit up, though you could see he was fidgeting with the hem of his uniform jacket.

"of course," you replied, walking over to join them. "is everything okay?"

the boys exchanged a look, some silent communication passing between them. finally, bakugo took a deep breath.

"y/n," he started, uncharacteristically using your actual name instead of some nickname. "we have something to tell you."

"first," kirishima jumped in, "we want you to know that there's no pressure here. whatever you decide is totally cool."

"decide about what?" you asked, heart hammering against your ribs.

"shitty hair and i have been dating for a while now," bakugo stated bluntly, watching your reaction carefully.

even though you'd suspected it, hearing the confirmation still made your breath catch. "oh! that's great! you guys make a really cute couple." you meant it sincerely, even as part of your heart sank at the confirmation.

"there's more," kirishima continued, his cheeks almost matching his hair as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "we both… really like you. as more than a friend."

"a lot more," bakugo added, his eyes intense as they fixed on yours. "and it's not just physical or whatever. you're strong and you don't take shit and you're… you."

you blinked, processing their words as your mind raced to catch up. "wait… both of you? like me?"

"yeah," kirishima nodded, looking both hopeful and terrified. "i know it might sound weird or complicated—"

"it's not weird," you interrupted, a slow smile spreading across your face as relief and joy flooded through you. "i like both of you too. i have for weeks. i just never thought…"

"are you serious?" bakugo looked genuinely shocked, which was rare for him. "how could you not notice? i've been less of an asshole to you than to anyone else in this entire school!"

"and i've been finding every excuse to be near you," kirishima added incredulously. "i literally gave you my favorite hoodie last week!"

"oh my god," you laughed, suddenly seeing all those moments in a new light. "mina and the girls were right. i am oblivious."

"no shit," bakugo muttered, but there was no real heat behind his words. in fact, you could swear you saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

"so…" kirishima took a step closer to you, hope shining in his eyes. "would you want to… be with us? both of us? we've talked about it a lot and we both want this—want you—if you're interested."

your answer was to close the distance and take both their hands in yours, kirishima's calloused from his hardening quirk, bakugo's warm from his explosions. "yes. absolutely yes."

the smile that broke across kirishima's face was blinding, all sharp teeth and pure joy. even bakugo couldn't maintain his scowl, a genuine smile softening his features in a way you'd rarely seen.

"can i…" kirishima hesitated, looking at you with such tenderness it made your heart ache. "can i kiss you?"

your answer was to lean forward and press your lips to his. the kiss was sweet and gentle, everything you'd imagined kissing kirishima would be like. when you pulled back, his eyes were wide with wonder.

"wow," he breathed.

you turned to bakugo, whose eyes had darkened as he watched the two of you. "your turn?"

for a moment, he didn't move, and you worried you'd misstepped. then he cupped your face with surprising gentleness and pulled you into a kiss that was all passion and barely restrained fire—completely bakugo.

when he released you, you were breathless.

"damn," kirishima whispered, watching both of you with undisguised admiration.

the three of you stood there as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the rooftop in golden light. kirishima's arm slipped around your waist, and bakugo's hand remained intertwined with yours.

"so," you finally asked, "how does this work exactly?"

"however we want it to," bakugo replied with unexpected wisdom. "no rulebook for this shit."

"we'll figure it out together," kirishima added, squeezing you closer. "that's what heroes do, right? face the unknown."

standing there between them, feeling bakugo's steady presence on one side and kirishima's warm enthusiasm on the other, you had never felt more certain of anything in your life.

——

the next day, the entire class 1-a froze in collective shock when the three of you walked into homeroom together. bakugo had his arm casually draped over your shoulder, while you held kirishima's hand on your other side. the three of you had talked late into the night, figuring out the beginnings of your relationship, and had decided there was no point in hiding it.

mina was the first to react, letting out an excited squeal that made jirou wince beside her. "finally!"

"wait, are all three of you…?" kaminari pointed between you, his face a mixture of confusion and awe.

"got a problem with it, dunce face?" bakugo challenged, pulling you slightly closer in a protective gesture.

"n-no! it's cool!" kaminari quickly backed down before breaking into a grin. "actually, it's kind of awesome."

"i'm so happy for you guys!" uraraka beamed, giving you a thumbs up.

iida adjusted his glasses, looking momentarily flustered before regaining his composure. "while this is certainly an unconventional arrangement, as long as it doesn't interfere with your studies or hero training, i see no reason to object!"

"thanks, class rep," kirishima laughed, squeezing your hand.

as you took your seats, you could feel the curious glances of your classmates, but they were largely supportive—or at least interested rather than judgmental. even todoroki gave a small nod of acknowledgment as you passed his desk.

during lunch, the shock value had still not worn off as you sat between the boys in the cafeteria, kirishima feeding you bites of his food while bakugo's leg pressed against yours under the table.

"i still can't believe she didn't notice we liked her," kirishima chuckled, his arm draped comfortably across the back of your chair.

"oblivious as hell," bakugo agreed, but his tone was almost affectionate as he reached over to brush a strand of hair from your face. the gesture was so casual yet intimate that several nearby students did double-takes.

"hey, i got there eventually," you protested with a laugh.

"yeah," kirishima smiled, resting his head on your shoulder while bakugo's hand found yours under the table. "you did."

across the cafeteria, the rest of class 1-a watched in amazement.

"i've never seen bakugo so… calm," midoriya whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the unusual sight of bakugo showing affection openly.

"love changes people, i guess," uraraka replied with a smile.

"it's manly as hell," tetsutetsu commented from the class 1-b table. "they're not afraid to be who they are."

as if hearing them, bakugo turned to glare in their direction, but when you leaned in to say something to him, his expression immediately softened as he turned back to you.

"so, training after school?" you asked both boys. "i want to try this new move i've been thinking about—combining bakugo's explosion with kirishima's hardening."

"hell yeah," bakugo nodded, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "i've got a few ideas too."

"count me in!" kirishima added enthusiastically. "with the three of us working together, we'll be unstoppable!"

watching them together—bakugo's fierce determination and kirishima's unwavering positivity—you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, the three of you really would be unstoppable. not just as heroes in training, but as partners supporting each other through whatever challenges lay ahead.

some things would never change completely. bakugo would always be explosive, kirishima would always be enthusiastic, and perhaps you would always be a little oblivious. but that was perfectly fine with the three of you.

after all, it had led you exactly where you were meant to be—together.

taglist: [open]

mutuals: @https-bakugo @haikyuubby @va-3 @lotusstarr @tulippanes @gh0st-g1rll @luvseraphh

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hancoxinc · 2 years ago

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uyuforu · 11 months ago

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Hi, Uyu. You've made a post about the Groom Persona Chart and the personality of the future spouse in relation to the persona chart. May I ask if you could make one for the Briede Persona Chart explaining how you would be as a wife? Thank you hehe

Briede/ Groom Persona Chart for yourself

Hi everyone! Hope you are doing good! Here is a post I have been preparing for a while. I thought it wasn't talk about much. Groom and Briede PC are often seen as PC for spouses but in other cases it also represents you. For example, you are a woman and interested in men, Groom PC will represent your spouse but Briede PC will represent you as a spouse! Someone also asked me about it and I thought it would be a good opportunity to make a post about the subject ^^ This post was inspired by my Bride PC but also married people and friends, and some celebrities too ^^ Both Groom and Briede PC were studied for seeing more type of cases! Hoping you will enjoy :)

All pictures were found on Pinterest