#fans of That Man are always on about how its rude to call him dirty or say he doesnt bathe lmfao i saw some shit not that long ago | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imthebadguyyy · 3 years ago

Note

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

#one direction x reader #one direction x sixth member #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles x reader #liam payne x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan x reader #zayn malik x reader #imthebadguyyytags #harry styles #niall horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik

2K notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Text

Quite at Home in Hell

For @whumptober2021 day six & day 21: blood-matted hair & hunger

CW: Vampirism, blood drinking, noncon touch, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper, biting, captivity, dehumanizing language

Vampire Chris AU Masterlist | Follows directly from this piece

Thanks to @boxboysandotherwhump for helping me with the German & @alittlewhump for helping with the French!

1918, the Western Front of WWI

The prisoners are held in a small, hastily constructed sort of barracks far too close to the front lines.

Gefrieter Erich Eeten knows why, of course. The hope is that his own people will hesitate before they blast this bit of dirt apart, that they will be concerned enough about killing their fellow soldiers that they’ll give up a few key moments of pause to the French, the Americans, and the British. Give them the advantage in a firefight.

They want to shield themselves with the bodies of the men in this tent, unwashed and dirty, who are exhausted from a day spent digging trenches for their enemies to hide in.

He can’t exactly blame the Allied powers for it.

It’s a brilliant bit of strategy, if less and less effective as men on both sides become so battle-hardened that they cease to care about their own lives, let alone each other. Still. He’d almost rather be at one of the true POW camps further away from the front lines, where the Red Cross at least comes to check on their treatment.

Here, so close to the front, there is no one keeping watch on what happens to them at all… and the longer the war draws on, the more viciously they kill each other, the more the prisoners kept here too far for oversight feel like they are teetering at the edge of some terrible invisible cliff.

There’s a stiff breeze outside the tent, whipping the heavy, waterproofed canvas edges. They’re flapping a little, making a sound that Erich will one day hear in his nightmares. The cold sneaks in through the slight space between tent and ground, and the men in here are huddled together for warmth, sharing the meager blankets they are given.

At least, though, their captors are officially the French.

Say what you will about the blasted frogs, they never deny their prisoners a nip of strong cognac to help hold off the cold. The Americans, on the other hand, seem to be laboring under an enforced lack of good liquor, not just for prisoners but for their own soldiers, too. That seems a worse crime than nearly any other, in circumstances like this. To force a man to be a cruel killer without even a nip or three to soothe his conscience… to Erich, it sounds like brutality.

There’s a bit of a scuffle outside the tent, and the prisoners look up. Erich is at the back, leaning back against the rough frame of a cot he sleeps on at night, cards in his hands wrapped in strips of bandage cloth just for warmth. What happened to his gloves, he’s no idea. Probably one of the Allies took them for a souvenir.

The canvas wraps work well enough.

“Au garde-à-vous, prisonniers! Sur vos pieds!” Erich knows the voice - it’s the main guard of the tent they sleep in, a man named Alain who looks entirely too old for war. Here he is, anyway, all moustache and silvering hair, pulling open the entrance of the tent, moving the flap aside.

Erich glances left and then right, meeting the eyes of his fellow prisoners, and the half-dozen of them that share this single small tent push heavily to their feet, shifting apart as much as the tent will allow, hands behind their back.

His stomach dips, a low drumbeat of dread alongside his heart. Something tells him this isn’t a social call he wants to be part of.

He’s even more certain when a tall, thin American steps into the entrance, nearly silhouetted by the dim, barely-there light behind them. Their hair is long, in a loose plait with parts undone, and their eyes gleam, briefly seeming to glow in the dark. Erich is reminded of his mother’s cat, who would stalk mice at night and whose eyes did just the same when light hit them.

He feels very… mouselike.

They wear a medic’s uniform, but it’s a little tattered. There are unrepaired bullet holes through the heavy woolen tunic, and they move with grace and disdain for how heavy wet wool must be, how itchy and uncomfortable. As if it simply doesn’t matter to them.

Because, of course, it doesn’t. The damn thing is a walking corpse, baring fangs in a grisly smile.

“Hello, soldiers,” They say, in a voice that isn’t quite a purr. “You all look a fright.”

“Verdammte Blutsauger,” Lukas Müller mutters to his right.

Erich hates the bloodsuckers. Everyone does. They come with the Americans, monsters brought from the shadows as a kind of secret weapon. Erich has never seen vampires out in the open before - back home, they are creatures of hiding. They live in cellars and basements and houses with the windows painted in thick matte black. They sweep along the streets at night, a risk for anyone who stays out too late.

But they’re not part of anything.

Here, they’re death itself, demons quite at home in hell.

Oh, sure, the Americans claim they use them only for bringing the injured back to safety - and some of them, he’s sure, are kept to that purpose. Some kind of ability to deny the truth of them, if there are enough seen doing only what the official story claims.

Erich, though, has seen one dispatching wounded German soldiers one by one left behind in a field, killing them before they can be recovered by their own people. He’s seen one with fangs buried in the throat of a man who would otherwise have lived. They’re listed as medics, but those things are what keeps the Germans on their own side of the battle lines after dark, and everyone knows it.

His own side brings canisters of poison gas. The Americans respond with an army laced around its edges in abominations the gas can’t touch.

The vampire sighs, faintly disappointed. “No good morning for me from my audience?”

Erich speaks the best English out of them all - his grandmother was English, taught it to his father in the cradle, who taught it to him. It’s made him more or less the spokesman for his small group of prisoners, and for the larger group when they are moved and briefly allowed to interact with the others. He clears his throat, stepping forward slightly. Lukas and Vilhelm, on his other side, nudge him just a little with their shoulders. It’s meant to be support, he supposes.

He feels like he’s being pushed onto a target painted on the floor, one invisible only to him.

“Good morning,” Erich says, voice flat, letting his accent roll far more heavily off his tongue than it needs to, turning good into gut. It’s always good to let the enemy believe you know less than you really do, so he pretends that English comes with difficulty and not ease. “Should you not turn to ash?”

Their eyebrows raise just slightly, not quite in amusement, and they give a brittle little laugh. “First off, Fritz, that’s a myth. Secondly, it’s not even morning. Probably close to evening now, honestly.”

Erich rolls his eyes. Lukas mutters something under his breath next to him, but the slight creaking of their boots seems to cover it too much to be understandable. Erich sighs, heavily. “Then why did you have us say to you good morning, Blutsauger?”

“Because it’s funny that you don’t know what time it is, of course. All right, who here is Fritz, who is Hans, and who am I just going to call Kraut?”

“No one here is named Hans and no one is Fritz, fangs.” Erich tips his chin down slightly, a lock of greasy brown hair falling into his eyes. “May you drown in holy water.”

He spits at the vampire’s feet.

He feels a pang of regret when the vampire turns to look at Alain, the French guard and points back at Erich, cheerful. “I want that one. He’s rude.”

“Das ist pech,” Lukas whispers.

When Alain simply stares at them blankly - and Erich knows Alain speaks English, they’ve spoken before in a tongue they had in common when neither spoke the other’s mother-tongue - the vampire groans. They don’t seem to know Alain is pretending not to understand them. “Fine. Let’s try this again. Je veux cet homme, s'il vous plaît.”

Alain’s expression tightens a little. He nods, and he won’t look Erich in the eyes as he draws the entrance open a little wider. “Emmenez-le alors.”

“Merci beaucoup,” The vampire says, giving a little bow. Erich backs up, but there isn’t anywhere to go, and none of them is armed. Besides, any resistance is met with removal of meals, with being denied the smallest comforts that make this bearable. With the possibility of all of them being handed over to a vampire, not just one.

This war had been civilized, in some ways, before the Americans brought their monsters.

It’s not actually true, but in this moment it comforts him to pretend it, to have a place to put his furious disgust as the vampire’s thin, long fingers close around his arm and yank him forwards with inhuman strength. They’re clicking their tongue against the top of their mouth in a strange animal way. Erich thinks again of his mother’s cat, making just that sound watching birds outside the windows.

“May your hands be pressed into the holy cross,” Erich snaps as he’s forced out into the freezing humid air outside the tent. There are others walking around - a war camp is never less than controlled chaos, no matter the time of day - but none of them will look at him. No one acknowledges him, although they’ve all seen this before. They know what’s going to happen here.

“Je déteste ça,” Alain mutters.

A bell is rung, clanging in a discordant note, and soldiers move into the POW tents. Erich is led towards a pole in the center of the ring of prisoner tents, something that a half-century ago might still have been a flogging post, a punishment for mutinous men.

“Crosses don’t really harm us,” The vampire says, careless and casual. “Very little does, actually. I’m a big fan of garlic, for instance. Silver, though…” They hum, dragging a fingernail over Erich’s wrist. “That hurts.”

He jerks his hand back and free, only to have the vampire laugh, bright and brilliant, and grab him again, spinning him around until they’re behind him, chest pressed to his back, using that demon strength to twist his arms up his back until his bones creak and ache, forcing him forwards towards the pole.

“I hope you have silver shoved down your throat,” Erich manages, but his heart is pounding in fear as the vampire grabs his hair and jerks his head to the side, forcing his cheek against the rough-hewn wood. Splinters bite into his skin and he grunts as his arms are moved, forced to encircle the pole. His wrists are tied with rope, leaving him looking a little ridiculous, as if he decided today to go for a hug.

Another rope goes around his shoulders, keeping him in this awkwardly pressed position. He tries to kick back, pulling viciously, but then his ankles come next. The rope goes from them to small metal hooks driven hard into the ground, keeping his legs more than shoulder-width apart. He can’t kick, or even balance himself. He must rely entirely on the pole he’s tied to in order to stay upright.

“I’m going to enjoy you,” The vampire murmurs.

Behind Erich, the sounds of a crowd gathering begin. Soft mumbles, exhalations of surprise and disgust. He closes his eyes against the rush of heat he feels - more rage than tears - knowing the prisoners are being brought out to witness this, to be shown what could happen to them next.

It does an excellent job of making them grateful for every day it’s not.

The French commander of the POW camp is barking a running list of commands to his men, but Erich doesn’t speak enough French to clearly understand them. Someone comes close by behind him, and he jolts as there’s a clap to his back. There’s a laugh behind him, not the vampire but someone else.

He manages to see from the corner of his eyes. A different American, of course. Comfortable enough with the vampire to get this close to them.

“Isn’t this a sorry sight,” The American says, and laughs. “What’s the prize for, fangs?”

The vampire lifts their hand, gently brushing Erich’s hair from his eyes. He spits in their face, this time, and is gratified by a flash of very real anger that briefly overtakes their constant amusement. They slowly wipe the spit away, then clean their hand - sort of - on Erich’s uniform.

It’s so dirty they’re probably even less clean after that than they were before.

“Reported a desertion. Now I get fresh food.” They lean down, meeting Erich��s furious hazel eyes. “I’m so hungry, Fritz. All the time. Imagine being surrounded by schnitzel and cabbage as far as the eye can see, and you’re not supposed to eat your fill. Imagine how empty you would feel.”

“Fick dich.”

“What, you won’t even curse at me in English anymore?” The vampire pouts, lower lip sticking out. He hates them more than he’s hated anyone during this godforsaken war. “Come on, you have to understand how hard this is for me, right?”

Erich ignores them, jerks his wrists again, trying to yank himself free of the ropes through sheer force. His back already is aching from being slightly bent forward, his thigh muscles stretched. He does the only thing he can think of - he slowly, with effort, drags his face along the wood and manages to turn away, and look the other direction.

“Well, fine. I suppose you’ll be mad at me for acting like you all eat schnitzel and cabbage, too,” The vampire says behind him. He doesn’t dignify them with an answer. He fixes his eyes, instead, on a point in the dark roiling clouds in the sky, above the remaining trees.

“The prisoners are well-positioned to witness,” A French officer states, speaking with a light, dancing accent but without the difficulty and hesitancy some of the regular infantry have. “You may feed when ready, Private Saathoff.”

That gets Erich’s attention. “Saathoff?”

“That’s right.” The vampire laughs, stepping up behind him. Their fingers move through the hair that curls, grown a little too long, over the back of his neck. He shudders with disgust at the intimacy of it. Their mouth moves close to his ear, but there is no heat of breath. Only the brush of lips. “Ich bin Deustcher, genau wie du.”

“Nothing like me,” Erich grinds out with his teeth gritted together so hard his jaw is already aching. He presses his forehead into the rough wooden pole and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath.

If he’s going to die…

“Vater unser im Himmel,” he begins, halting. He hasn’t seen the inside of a church since he was fourteen, and that was twelve years ago now. Still, the words to the Lord’s Prayer come easily, more muscle memory than thought. “Geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein Reich komme, Dein Wille geschehe, wie im Himmel so auf Erden-”

“Zu jeder anderen Zeit hätte ich dich als Haustier behalten.” They use his hair to jerk his head back, and their fangs jam into his neck with a flash of sudden agony.

It’s a white-hot pain that races down his spine to the very tips of his toes, and Erich screams, the sound strangled and thin but still echoing, bouncing off of trees and tents and back into his mind, crashing like the shells that slam into the earth.

Lukas jerks forwards as if to run to help him and is pushed back by one of the French soldiers, their expression set in a grim line. They have to twist Lukas’s arms behind his back to hold him as he shouts, angrily, that this isn’t fair, it’s against the laws of conduct.

There’s laughter, at that, from their captors.

The other prisoners grumble and shift uncomfortably, look at anything but Erich whenever they can, but they can’t escape the sound of his horror, of his pain.

There’s no pulse of the much-spoken-of venom. There’s no numbness to drift in, there’s no fog to cloud out his awareness of what is happening to him. Every muscle of Erich’s body is tensed tight enough to snap the bones they wrap around, the veins standing out in his throat as if giving them a roadmap of where the food can be found.

He didn’t know vampires could choose not to use the venom.

He didn’t know they could make it feel like this.

When his scream dies, he can’t get enough breath to make another. All he can do is let out high-pitched, thin whimpers and cries. Spots dance before his eyes. Beneath the sound of his heart pounding in a sudden panic to push more blood faster to replace what is being lost, he can feel - can hear - a low rumbling sound against his back.

Erich has heard the rumors that vampires purr, and now he knows they aren’t rumors at all.

He can feel it right through his back, just barely. It’s a vibration that would be pleasant if it didn’t seem to be somehow making everything hurt even worse, waking up his nerves the way the venom is supposed to deaden them. Their hands are closed around his ribs, pressing the tips of their fingers rhythmically against them, as if playing a piano, as if he is dough to be kneaded, as if he isn’t human at all.

As if he’s nothing but a field mouse that found his way into the wrong house, and the vampire is the housecat who has waited too long for a living toy to torment.

There is no prayer, in pain like this. There is no thought beyond the body’s fight for survival and the mind wanting to flee from it, if surviving means this feeling will not end. There is nothing but the feeling of his blood being pulled forcefully out of his body, nothing but his nerves screaming to escape it, nothing but the bite of the ropes that ensure he can do no more than jerk in his bonds and choke on his agony.

It feels like forever - and like a moment - when their fangs pull free, their cool rough tongue lapping at the wounds to close them, purring against his ear with contentment. Their fingers knead into his skin a little bit longer, drawing the moment out as he slumps against the wooden pole he’s tied to. He’s only standing because of the ropes.

Pain rolls through him, breaking against the edges of his body from the inside, like the smaller waves after a storm falling onto a beach already strewn with debris. He slumps. His own breath is a rasping wheeze, taking far more effort than it should.

Nein, Erich, Erich stirb nicht…” Lukas’s voice comes from somewhere so far away, filtering through the noise in Erich’s mind slowly. He can’t even begin to form a response. His mouth won’t answer his commands. It only hangs open, panting, pulling in the chilly air over his tongue. He starts to shiver as the breeze hits the cold sweat in his hair and on his neck, cuts through his uniform somehow.

He doesn’t have enough blood left to warm himself.

Their tongue licks up his neck behind his ear, matting his own blood into his hair there, sticky and hot. It starts to cool and dry immediately in the cold air. Erich’s stomach twists.

“Oh, he won’t die,” The vampire coos, petting through his hair slowly. Their nails scratch at his scalp. “Not today.” Their mouth presses back against his ear. “Thanks for the meal, Erich. And for being so entertaining. Maybe I’ll find you after the war. I’ll buy you a beer… and some schnitzel.”

They push themself away from him, turning away to wipe a bit of blood from the corners of their mouth, and walk with a jaunty step through an opening that appears in the ring of watching prisoners, whose eyes follow them with apprehension and no small amount of fear.

When Alain comes up to untie him, Erich simply collapses into the Frenchman’s arms as soon as he’s free of the ropes. Lukas is allowed to move up to stand at his other side, putting Erich’s limp left arm around his shoulders, while Alain supports his right. Erich lets his head fall into Lukas’s shoulder, hitching his breath as he forces down a sob.

“Wh… why do you let them do this?” He asks, his English slurred with the exhaustion that means he is dragged with his boots carving paths through the mud back towards the tent.

Alain is silent until Erich is dropped onto his cot, the hard frame digging into Erich’s back right through the thin mattress. He glances over his shoulder, the three of them alone in here for the moment, and then looks back.

“It is believed that this is how we will win,” He says, and pats Erich’s hand. “My apologies. I do not believe in the monsters, but I am not the one to run this war.”

“None of us are,” Erich says, weakly. He closes his eyes. “We are only the ones who must fight in it.”

There’s a pause, and Alain’s exhale is audible in the quiet tent. “I will ensure you are given extra meat rations tonight, and I will find you some schnapps. Essaye de dormir, maintenant, si tu peux,” he says with soft regret lacing his voice. Then there is a shuffle of footsteps, and he’s gone.

Lukas shifts and sits with his back to the cot, in the same position Erich was in before. He swallows, picking up the abandoned cards from the game they’d been playing, looking over Erich’s hand. “You’d have won, you know, on the next hand,” He says in German, before he reaches out to grab the others’ cards and reshuffle the deck.

“Do I still get my… my winnings?” Erich can barely move his lips to speak. He’s so tired. So, so tired. He can feel his hands starting to shake, now that it’s over, the trembling moving slowly up his limbs, stuttering his breathing.

“My share of the liquor? Not on your life.” Lukas pauses, and then his tone gentles as he looks Erich over again. “You know what... of course you can. You’ll need warmth. What did the bloodsucker say to you, anyway? I couldn’t hear.”

Erich thinks about the promise to find him after the war, about the way they spoke into his ear as if he were little more than a toy top to be spun at their command. In another time, I’d keep you for a pet, they had whispered, before they bit down.

He shakes his head, slowly. “Lies,” He answers, and feels the softer-edged darkness of sleep begin to take him.

“Lies?”

“I hope… I hope they were lies.”

For the moment, at least, he is too exhausted by the present to feel terror for the future.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump @thefancydoughnut

105 notes · View notes

octania · 4 years ago

Text

Benimaru Shinmon x Reader ( NSFW, 18+)

Word count: 3.8 k

Warnings: NSFW,smut,oral sex,sexual teasing, orgasm prohibition

Short description: You were in love with this man for over a year, but your bratty mouth an denial of your feelings got you in a situation where Benimaru will teach you how to behave in very teasing and heated way....

________________________________________________________

The air was filled with the scent of a variety of traditional dishes and enriched by the happy shouts of excited residents through the streets. This time, the festival did not mean destruction, this time it was celebrated by making delicious dishes and socializing with each other. The celebration itself began at dawn, when they brought out their wooden tables and portable stoves, beginning to enrich the street with enticing scents of a variety of spices and ingredients. You could also hear the gentle sound of kota, whose strings were gently touched by the pale hands of young talented musicians. While these were all just preparations for the big ceremony that would start when sun kisses the mountains, everyone shared their joy throughout the day. His dark hair fluttered in the morning breeze around his narrowed eyebrows. Ruby eyes barely opened as he passed like a shadow past people. Although it was not visible on the expression on his face, he secretly enjoyed the liveliness that spread through the streets of his hometown. Countless greetings lined up behind him, giving him words of praise and support to which he only nodded a few times, nothing more, and continued his walk. The silence of his thoughts was broken by a hoarse female voice. Although it was rough, it sounded kind of gentle. He soon discovered to whom it belonged, when a plump old woman with black hair streaked with gray strands stepped in front of the captain. Her wrinkled face wearing a smiled from ear to ear, her eyes squinting at the young man.“Benimaru, my boy! I have something for you, please do except my gift in honor to you and the members of your squad.”- she was direct, not talking his ear off, just bowing slightly after her words and handing him a medium sized package. He stared in the thing wrapped in light blue material with a lack of interest that he did not hide not even the slightest. “Tempura and sushi, to hold you till the festival tonight.” – she explained getting back up from the slight bow. After a couple of lazy blinks, he raised his hand and responded. “That is alright, we will wait till the festival.”- without waiting for a response, he passed the woman in attempt to leave, but she was not letting go so easily. Shoving the thing in his hands, she smiled again, not bothered by his behavior.“Nonsense! Twins will love it, and we all know Konro could use a break for cooking today.”- Benimaru sighed, pushing the package slowly back at her, but before he could say anything, a female voice sharp like katana echoed the street. “Obaachan, can you please stop giving food to the people who clearly have no decency to even say thank you? Rudeness should not be rewarded.”- (Y/N) stood at the door of their restaurant, squeezing the sleeves of her kimono. Benimaru didn't say a word, looking at the young girl with the expressionless face. The lack of his reaction only made (Y/N) even angrier as she furiously crossed her arms over her chest. “(Y/N), you watch your mouth! You are addressing our beloved captain, to whom you owe your safety!”- obaachan scolded her, raising her finger as a warning, but that didn't stop (Y/N) from responding with even greater ferocity, targeting Benimaru with a look of utter contempt. “Because he is a captain, he should show more respect to his people and their offerings! Shouldn’t leaders be role models? Poor us if that is the case. People usually pay for the food in our restaurant, and yet he shows no gratitude even when his meal is free!”- she did not waver, her stand proud and determent, not showing even a bit of fear from the man who is the head of this town. “Child, hush! Go back inside right now! Sol help your rude mouth!”- Obaachan started waving her hands, showing (Y/N) to go back inside the house, turning to Benimaru. “I apologize captain Shinmon, (Y/N) did not mean it.”- the elderly woman bowed again, with clear expression of shame smeared around her wrinkled face. Still speechless, Benimaru watched the girl, who was now biting her lower lip in frustration as if it were chewing gum. Eventually, he slung the bundle over his shoulder, turning on his heel. “Thank you for the meal madam (Lastname of your family).” – that was the only thing he said, strolling down the dusty street without turning around again. Even though he wanted to allow his mismatched eyes to gaze upon the fearless woman one more time....

The celebration that had its core in the great hall that belonged to your family, otherwise intended for weddings and large feasts, was already spreading like wildfire. People were raising glasses full of sake, feasting on specialties they had been preparing all day, but they preferred to treat their palates to desserts that belonged to your family restaurant. Young artists danced a traditional dance with fans, attracting curious glances with their gorgeous and colorful kimonos. Outside, the streets were crowded with people, gazing merrily at the early fireworks that ate up the starry sky with their tantalizing shapes. You were in charge of serving the guests who sat on the heated floor of the hall in front of the beautifully carved tables. Countless comments on your beauty and grace have accompanied you in your assignment, while you have given a kind smile to anyone who would praise you. No one has noticed that your eyes jump restlessly from person to person, searching the room in hopes of encountering the phlegmatic face of the man who was the source of your deepest suffering.You were afraid that your sharp tongue had resulted in his absence, that he wouldn't show up for the rest of the evening, maybe not after either. Did you overdo it... or didn't you? He was rude after all! Yes it is true, he is guilty of this! You weren't even aware that your angry thoughts betrayed the state of your mind on your face. You eyebrows narrowed, lips squeezed in a straight line, your body tense, as you rushed towards the kitchen, when a familiar voice addressed you. “(Y/N)! Your family always knew how to make the best celebrations, I congratulate you.”- a tall man with a kind blue eyes that resembled a calm and mysterious sea, smiled at you, holding the door of the kitchen open for you. “Konro! I..”- you stopped for a second, almost dropping the mountain of dirty dishes you were carrying, as your eyes finally find the one they’ve been searching for. A smile almost escaped your lips, but you prevented your rooted emotions to show. Behind the tall man, Benimaru was standing, scanning the room full of cheerful people. He did not even look at you once, and you could feel the frustration rising in you again. Who does he think he is? No matter how much you were bothered by his disinterested posture, your eyes wandered over his crossed arms on his chest, the muscle that adorned his forearms reached to the very core of your desire. The hands filled with veins always looked tense and ready to fight, as if he was waiting to defend the whole world with them, alone. You could no longer resist the sight, you had to run away. Blubbering a couple of thanks to the lieutenant, you ran past his arm into the kitchen, kicking the door with your foot behind you to close them. You took quick steps to the sink and nearly broke half the porcelain plates when you threw them inside. You grasped the edges of the sink, closing your eyes shut and taking a deep breath. Before you could muster your whirlwind of thoughts, a young woman approached you from the back.“You know, if you were not such a proud and bratty thing, you would be breaking beds now and not dishes.” – (B/F – name of your best friend) mocked your state without restraining one bit. Your nerves were thin, and being called out like this only made you react like a cornered animal.“Shut up, I don’t know what you are talking about (B/F). Seriously, if you worked even the half of the time you spend teasing people, we would actually get something done. “-you snapped at her, pulling out bamboo boxes filled to the brim with colorful mochis. “Sure, if you had a bite to support all that barking, maybe you would get something done. I think Benimaru would appreciate your teeth on his skin more than your mouth just bullshiting all the time.”- she did not back down,wrapping the strands of hair around her finger, (B/F) continued before you could counter attack.“How long has it been since you started drooling over Waka? A year? Year and a half? Oh my God, when I remember how pissed you were when you though he was dating that girl from company 8th just because she brought some papers a couple of times.”- the more she talked, the more did rage boil in you, so much that it seemed that steam will start going out of your ears. Her voice only rose as she continued through laughter.“Damn, you made me wait around corners like crazy people just so we can see if they are a couple or not. And when it finally turned out they were not, I will never forget your jumping in the air from excitement.”- before she could say any more , something gooey and sticky landed right on her forehead. She whined in surprise, as the pieces of mochi started falling down her face.“Anything else you want to add?!Huh?!”- you lifted your hand high, ready to throw another mochi at her.“Maybe if you threw yourself on Benimaru in the same way you are throwing this mochi, you would get some and your nerves would calm down!!”- she screamed before ducking down as your hand catapulted another one at her. You didn’t even know that your little show didn’t go as private as you thought. The high tones of the people from the main hall were unfortunately not enough to cover your voices, and one curious ear absorbed every word. Benimaru lowered his head, starting to walk away from the kitchen door. Under his raven hair, a grin was hiding.

He sat quietly watching the people around him fiercely try to get his attention. Some were male neighbors praising his fighting skills, their speech interrupted by hiccups from too much sake was almost humorous, while on the other hand a couple of girls discreetly tried to gain his favor, but all they got was a restrained smile. He brought the glass to his lips to take a sip of the bitter liquid, but there were no more inside. Your grandmother, who was actually only a few seats away from him, noticed the lack of refreshment for the beloved captain, and of course, called your name instantly. “(Y/N)! Fill the captain’s cup!”- you kept away from his table. Actually, you targeted those behind him, in order to better avoid a face-to-face encounter. The things (B/F) told you bothered you too much, and you didn't just want to deepen your cravings and quarrel with yourself over the feelings you carry for this man. Hearing your name, Benimaru tilted his head, looking over his strong shoulder with his glowing eyes. That deep gaze made you swallow, barely keeping you composure. You knew if you came any closer you would break, and you will not give him that satisfaction. You lifted you chin up, pushed back your shoulders, and turned on your heal as the cold answer followed.“He has hands. He can fill it up himself.”- without second thought, you walked away, but you swore you could feel a set of burning eyes following you.

The hallways were empty, all the guests retreated to the main hall. As the night went on, even the workers began to relax, completing their work and joining the rest of the town in celebration. There was no longer a need to bring the food from the kitchen, at least for the time being, the tables were full. (B/F) was the last person leaving the kitchen, as you said you will join her shortly, you just wanted to finish a few things up. Carrying the empty bamboo boxes, you took a turn into the hallway bathed in dim light, crashing with your shoulder into something big and hard. You blinked in shock, barely managing not to drop the boxes on the floor. The thing in front of you was a person, and seeing him made your heart race. Benimaru Shinmon stood there silently, his eyes half opened, shoulders relaxed, while he studied you. You almost bit your lip, but seeing the man baring that uninterested expression once more, made your blood boil instead. “Excuse me is the words you are looking for! You should watch where you are going.”- you said irritated, trying to go pass him, hiding your flustered face beneath your hair. A feeling of slight pain spread throw your back as it crashed on the wall. It took you a couple of seconds to figure out what was going on, that is, you needed to believe that this was not one of your dreams. Pressed with his hips on your abdomen, Benimaru towered over you. He seemed stronger than usual, more dangerous, but there was not a shred of fear in you, just excitement. “Wh..what are you doing?! Get off!”- funny you should say that, when in reality you didn’t wiggle or struggle at all, your big mouth once again just stood in your way in order to show your true feelings. But Benimaru was no fool. He did not respond on your demands, instead, he tilted his head on the side, like he was checking something, then returned his gaze on you. You could feel the ground disappearing under you. You gasped at the unsettling feeling, trying to grab onto something from pure instinct. But the only thing you managed to grab was the one making you lose the floor under your feet in the first place. Benimaru picked you up by your waist, his forearm adorned with prominent veins wrapped around your waist like a snake, not letting go of his prey. He was fast, pushing the door of the kitchen that was empty and dark, kicking it again as they closed with a loud bang that made you flinch, while he turned the key in the lock. “Benimaru ! What the hell? I said let go!”- in reality, you hated the thought of his hands leaving your body. The feeling that flowed through your veins when you were this close to him, almost took over even your insolence, but the bits that were left now squirted like popcorn from your lips. “You are too huffish, (Y/N).”- his voice smooth like honey, but a bit dark. The sudden feeling of falling down made a muffled whine to escape your mouth, but you did not hit the ground. He held you in his lap while he sat down on a kitchen table. Your permanent denial tried to strike for the last time, making you turn around furiously, facing the man who dared to pick you up like a helpless and fragile thing. But the sharpness of your words did not come down from your lips, when sweetness filled your taste buds. The warm flesh of his lips now merged with yours. The bitter taste of the sake he drank from didn't bother you, because for you he tasted like cupid's wine, intoxicating you, maddening your thoughts and driving your senses wild. You felt dizzy from the heat that rushed into your cheeks when he first ran his tongue over yours, caressing its soft surface with his tender muscle. You tried to get some air in your lungs but you didn't know how to breathe, you were so enchanted by his kisses. You almost swore in displeasure when he pulled his lips away from yours.“If you just did this, we would be able to skip the punishment.”- confused, you did not even manage to answer his statement when his hands that were resting on your waist till now, pulled you down and flipped you across his lap. Your knees landed on the wooden surface of the table, as you kept your balance on your elbows in the front. “What…what are you doing?”- you asked with a shaky voice, seeing how his hand hold you by the material of you kimono on your lower back, keeping you steady. “I declined the home made meal from your obaachan today because I knew we already had a meal prepared for the day.”- he said sliding his rough palm of his free hand across your spine, down to the your lower back, all the way to your peachy ass. You bit you lip, shivering when his touch did not stop, traveling down your thigh, then taking a handful of fabric of your kimono.“Taking more would mean throwing it away because it would not be eaten. And that would be disrespectful.”- he jerked your kimono abruptly, exposing your entire lower body. Your perfectly shaped ass made him discreetly lick his lips, while you covered your face with your palms in shame. “I-I…I didn’t k..know that ..”- you tried to explain yourself, but in vain, as his voice responded harshly, accompanied with his finger movement, slipping under the side of your panties. You whined loudly as his index finger brushed along your folds.“You did not bother to ask. But fortunately as you said earlier, I do have my hands. And with my hands I plan to teach you how to behave.”- the sound of tearing fabric filled the kitchen. You bit your hand when you felt the exhaled air from his mouth pass over your naked cunt. He was so close that he could feel the heat coming from it, barely restraining himself from biting into that cookie. You stirred a little, the discomfort ate at you up, the feeling of arousal overcame you.“Don’t look there….Benimaru, please I-….”

“You know how to say please already? Well, I wonder what it will take to teach you to say sorry.”- his fingertips crossed over your silky pussy lips, gently caressing the rosy flesh. You whimpered at the slow pace of his movements. He didn't remove his head, he calmly watched the wet glow slowly appear on those folds. He pushed his finger closer to the opening, collecting some sticky liquid with his fingertip. He didn't push his finger inside, but continued to draw a line along your slit. “Oh my Sol!”- you cried out, squirming already, but that did not even make him flinch. He pushed his digit a bit harder, make it sink into the sensitive flesh, brushing over it all so gently. “Sol will not help you (Y/N), but some manners might. Luckily again, as you said, captain should be a role model, showing the people the art of good manners.”- his thumb slipped across your clit, making the rough skin stimulate it so greatly it made your icing flow more intensely. You yearned for him to do it again, but you were out of luck. This was not supposed to be something to reward you with, this was a straight up lesson to teach you what will happen when your bratty mouth bump into an opponent like Benimaru. He settled his thumb above your throbbing nerve bud, adding another finger to the game. His index and middle finger pulled your pussy lips slowly, massaging them between them. The sensation you were feeling made you feel dizzy. The overwhelming pleasure that arose in you now got your legs shaking without stopping. The feeling was unbearable, because he touched all the sensitive places but leaving the critical ones empty and eager. This teasing was so arousing your juices now strained down your thigh. The crystal like liquid did not go unnoticed by Benimaru, as a grin appeared on his face. Without a second though, he lowered his head, sticking his tongue out and pressing it on your plushy thighs, collecting the juices in long strokes. “Beni!!”- you moaned like a whore, voice filled with begging desire and maddening need, but he did not plan to be interrupted. He slid his hand under you, finding your mouth and sticking the fingers coated in your icing in it.“Clean this up, while I clean you down here.”- he lifted his hand a bit to make you close your mouth around his fingers, pumping them in and out to insure you will do the job well. You sobbed in a low voice as you sucked on your own cum, barely concentrating on his order when the feeling of him patiently licking off the wetness along your thighs and getting closer to your cunt made you almost faint. His soft muscle finally found its way to the grand prize, as he brushed it on your folds and around your entrance in circular motions. You could not take it, you started to push your ass back, trying to make him stick his tongue in, touch your clit, anything to give you the sweet release you so desperately needed. But he will not grant you that. He pressed his mouth right on your heated hole, and started sucking, gathering the last of your juices. You body was on the edge, you could feel your heart skipping a beat, lungs barely catching air and muscles tensing, begging for that much needed release, but the only thing you got was a tender kiss on your clit, before he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, and lifting you off of him. He placed you in the sitting position, spreading your legs so your cunt was fully exposed to him once more. Your own wetness was smeared around your lips. You lowered your gaze, seeing something that made your mouth drop open. On Benimaru’s loose pants, there were more than clear outlines of his thick dick. You never saw something like that before, stretching the fabric mercilessly. He was not big, he was huge, and you wanted every damn inch buried inside of you. But you again forgot that this was not your lucky day….“You can only watch as I get the release that you are forbidden to reach tonight.” he slid his hand under his pants, giving his length a couple of experimental pumps before exposing the beast to you.“If you will behave, next time I will reward you, this time you will only swallow your bratty words…and my cum.”- he started slowly jerking it off, gazing at your plumb lips where his load will end.

If you want to support my work, you can leave me a small tip on Ko-fi 💖 . It is highly appreciated. 🥺 😍

#benimaru shinmon #fire force #enen no shouboutai #benimaru shinmon x reader #benimaru shinmon x you #enen no shouboutai x reader #enen no shouboutai smut #benimaru shinmon headcanons #fire force benimaru #benimaru x reader #enen no shoubotai headcanons

1K notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

Text

Taming of the Bridezilla | Seokjin

→ summary: Picture this: You had been (not-so) cordially invited to the wedding of your least favorite cousin—a woman who had been hellbent on making your childhood a living hell. Now older and wiser, you would think that you would put aside your differences and attend your cousin’s special day without any hard feelings, right? You wouldn’t seek revenge, now would you?

→ genre: fake dating!au, i2l, humor/crack, fluff → warnings: seokjin and oc paradoxically have big yet small brains, fake proposals, not-so fake mutual pining, thinly veiled baby-making jokes, terrible family members, ass slapping (no worries it’s consensual) → words: 6.3K → a/n: first of all, no this is not a horror fic; i just thought the title was funny. unless you consider the stupidity of the characters to be mildly horrifying, then sure you can count this as a horror fic. this insanely ridiculous fic was commissioned by @breadoffoxy!! anyone who loves chaotic jin is an angel in my book. yes, this comm is a bit longer than expected but what can i say... i love me some jin. anyway i hope you guys enjoy!

“You got the ring, right?”

Seokjin pats his left breast pocket and gives you a quick smirk. The bump where the ring should be is fortuitously hidden by his large and garish boutonniere, looking to all the world like he had pinned a whole head of cabbage to his suit. Even then, he still somehow manages to make it work. “Of course I did. This entire plan would be useless if I didn’t have it,” he says.

“What flavor did you get? I quite like the watermelon one,” you muse, smacking your lips in anticipation. “Though it’s hard to remember since I haven’t had a ring pop in years.”

Seokjin laughs loudly, startling a group of aunties gossiping in the corner. They all shoot glares at him, though the effect has lost its novelty as they’ve already been glaring at you from the moment you arrived. You suppose that they have a good reason to, considering that you both arrived at the reception an entire 30 minutes late. You can imagine them cursing you under their breath, saying something like, “You’ve brought dishonor to us all!” or whatever it is that aunties like to say these days.

“I could have gotten you all the flavors available at the convenience store if you wanted, but then we’d be 40 minutes late instead,” Seokjin sighs, pretending to be anguished at the thought.

You snort in the most unladylike manner that you can, grinning wildly when you hear one of the aunties gasp in horrified disbelief. From the way they’re reacting, you might have thought that you just flashed them your Borat-inspired neon green thong.

“I do love a man who can treat me well,” you giggle, earning a soft pinch from him.

“Oh, hush. I know you love it. You nearly burst into tears the other day when I bought you a McFlurry because your broke ass was a dollar short,” Seokjin teases. You squawk indignantly, unable to come up with a retort.

“Whatever! Just because you’re a trust fund baby doesn’t mean you get to bully my impoverished state. Just you fucking wait ‘til I get hit by a wealthy 77 year old’s BMW and then I’ll be made for life,” you huff, your illusion of annoyance quickly shattered by the large, dumb grin on your face. “Hey, would you still love me if I broke all my limbs but had a massive bank account?”

“I’d rather buy you McDonald’s for the rest of your life than see you in pain,” he answers simply, patting you gently on the head. “Though I suppose helping you inject thousands of calories into your bloodstream would also cause you pain later on in life, but hey, at least you’d go down doing what you love.”

“Oh, yes. Keep talking dirty to me. I love it when you talk about the ways you’d kill me by association.” You laugh, casually looping your arms together as you walk past the slowly growing crowd of aunties and entering the reception hall to find your seats. Almost everyone is already in their seats, with a few guests milling about and greeting one another with tight-lipped smiles and hollow laughter. The sight brings goosebumps up your arm, bringing back terrible memories of having to make niceties with these people despite knowing that they despised you and your less affluent family.

Remember, you’re only here as a representative for your parents, you tell yourself. You’d rather bear the brunt of the thinly-veiled insults than to have your parents have to experience this hell. Besides, you have big plans for today, and they would only be brought to an end if your mother ever found out what you wanted to do in the first place.

“As they say… We’re here for a good time, not a long time, which I suppose is our philosophy for tonight as well,” he quips back. He taps you lightly on the hand, wrenching your gaze away from the magnificent chocolate fountain on the dessert table and back to his somewhat less magnificent face. A straight-up lie, but it is the only defense mechanism you have in your arsenal that can keep you from staring at how gorgeous he looks in his suit and tie like a braindead idiot. Denial, after all, hasn’t failed you during the last five years that you’ve been in love with your own best friend.

“What is it?” you ask, curious when he furtively points out one of your cousins near the front of the hall. “That’s Namjoon. Do you know him?”

“Know is a strong word,” Seokjin hums, winking at your cousin when he happens to turn towards the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes light up when he sees him, but his excitement immediately vanishes when he notices who Seokjin has beside him on his right arm. You could see the mental cogs going on inside Namjoon’s head as he stares at the two of you, but you don’t get to see him reach a conclusion before Seokjin is pulling you away, walking in the opposite direction.

“Seokjin? What was that all about?” you ask, though you have to admit you’re kind of afraid to know the answer to your own question. As much as everything about tonight’s scheme had been your idea, you can’t help but think that Seokjin’s intense enthusiasm to help you isn’t merely out of his own desire to help you as a friend, but rather due to his innate calling to cause chaos wherever he goes.

“I have a secret bonus surprise for the bride and groom once we get kicked out from this joint after we do our thing,” he says. “And, dare I say, it’ll be quite a treat for all the guests here.” The smirk on his lips is downright heinous, only exacerbating the frantic racing of your heart. There must be something wrong with you, not with how badly you want to do unspeakable atrocities to him and his evil-looking ass. Or perhaps he was simply put down on Earth to test your slowly fraying sanity.

He snaps you out of your dumbfounded, horny stupor when he continues, “If everything goes according to plan, then we’ll truly end this night with a bang, no pun intended.”

“What was even the pun there?” You raise a brow, slightly disconcerted by the way Seokjin was struggling to keep his laughter (at his own joke) at bay. “You know what? Don’t even answer. I guess I’ll just have to find out later tonight.”

After some pointless meandering while the two of you locate your seats, you are finally able to locate your table, unsurprisingly situated near the farthest corner of the hall where no one would have to see you. You’re honestly more surprised that your newly-wedded cousin had even remembered to give you a seat, though you suppose that it must have been at the behest of your uncle. While your devil of a cousin has always been rude and cruel to you, you have to admit that at least her father knew some manners, though that only begs the question as to what happened to his daughter along the way. Genetics and expensive etiquette classes can only help so much, you suppose.

“Thank you again for doing this with me. You really didn’t need to,” you say when you take a seat, nearly elbowing him in the process. Your chairs are wedged right beside the emergency exit and a grotesque ice sculpture of the bride and groom, forcing the two of you to sit so close that you could feel Seokjin breathe directly into your ear. If you shifted just slightly to the right, you’d basically be sitting on his lap (which is a prospect that intrigues you greatly, but you refrain from voicing it in fear of creeping him out… for now).

“How could I ever resist the offer to ruin your cousin’s wedding? This has been on my bucket list for years,” he winks cheekily at you. “Besides, you’re my dearest friend, Y/N. You could ask me to fight a bear naked, and I’d gladly let it eat my dick in one chomp!”

“I wouldn’t let a bear eat your dick,” you say kindly, patting him gently on the back. “You can’t afford to lose an inch when you only have two to offer.”

Before you could laugh hysterically at Seokjin’s howls of betrayal, your attention is pulled away when the soft violin music stops playing abruptly. From far away, it’s hard to tell what’s going on until you notice a bright light reflecting off of the sea of attendees, the balding head of the reception’s host bobbing up and down as he makes his way to the front of the hall.

“Attention esteemed guests! We will now begin serving dinner shortly. Please remain in your seats as our waiters attend to you.” The host speaks into a crackly microphone just as a few scraggly-looking underpaid teenagers in black dress shirts come out with the first course of the night.

Seokjin cranes his neck, trying to see what the food is. “What the hell is that? Why does it look like green shit in a bowl?” he murmurs, loud enough so that only you can hear. “I didn’t know your cousin was a Dr. Seuss fan. Are we being served green eggs and ham?” Before you can guess, you watch as his nose crinkles in disgust, a vile stench making its way to your area even though none of the waiters were even close to your table. “Oh my goodness, is that stench what we’re supposed to eat?”

“Smells like a barnyard,” you comment, though you aren’t as surprised as he is by the revolting smell. “Well, my cousin always did like making atrocious vegan recipes on her shitty WordPress blog, so I wouldn’t put it past her if she made up the menu for her own wedding.”

“She’s a vegan and a bully? What are the odds,” he says drily, cringing when he watches one of the guests begin to dry heave the moment a spoonful of the green stuff enters their mouth. “Christ. I didn’t know I was signing up for a life or death mission.”

“At this rate, I don’t think we’re getting served until the end of the night anyway,” you say, observing as the understaffed employees tried their best to get to every table while insufferable aunts did their worst to hinder their progress by nagging and complaining. Why were they so adamant about eating the food anyway? Were they itching to get diarrhea on a Saturday night? You do admit that it would probably be better, so then at least you’d have an excuse to leave earlier. “Though I suppose... Do you think eating the mystery goo while it’s cold would be better or worse?”

“It’s okay, I’ll treat you to McDonald’s when we finish up here,” he says, smiling sweetly at you. Never in your life has the mention of greasy fries and chicken nuggies made your heart race faster than it did at that moment, but then again, it could also be your high-blood pressure kicking up. Either way, you can’t ignore the way your face heats up at his offer, now more excited than ever for the reception to be over.

You and Seokjin chat as you wait for everyone around you to finish eating, not even bothered when the waiters forget to bring your food. You’re in the middle of debating the pros and cons of cock and ball torture when large dark shadows loom over both your heads, much like a solar eclipse. A cold shiver runs up your spine when you look up to find the reptilian faces of your aunts, the fumes of their designer perfume creating a cloud so noxious that you could feel your lungs shrivel into prunes.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to see you after such a long time,” your Aunt Sohee greets, her tone indicating that there was nothing pleasant about seeing you at all. Your aunt, who had gotten so much botox done that she was reminiscent of a plastic balloon ready to pop, has her entourage of fellow aunties behind her, all of whom looked ridiculous in their fake designer dresses. You swear you can see that one of them had forgotten to snip off the Made in China tag before wearing it to the wedding.

“Aunt Sohee, you’re looking… young,” you say after a moment, deciding to settle on lying for now. Even though your main plan for this evening is to create chaos at your cousin’s wedding, your one condition is that you wouldn’t cause a scene with your aunts. While you are hardly in the running for favorite niece, there is still a 1% chance that you could get some inheritance from them once they hit the grave, so you’ll have to grit your teeth and bear the incoming barrage of personal questions coming your way lest you lose out in the long run.

“Why, thank you. I can’t say the same for you,” she huffs, shamelessly grabbing my cheeks and squishing them like stress balls. She peers sourly at your disfigured face, trying to squint judgmentally at you but failing due to her horrendous plastic surgery. “How old are you? Why do you have so many wrinkles?”

You feel your eyebrow twitch involuntarily, unable to respond even if you wanted due to the gorilla-hold she has on your face. You side-eye Seokjin, who is looking back at you with a blank and calm expression. You had already told him beforehand that you wouldn’t be arguing with your aunts, but that doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be an asshole.

Being an asshole, after all, is Seokjin’s favorite pastime.

“Hello, Aunties. My name is Kim Seokjin, and I’m Y/N’s long-term boyfriend. She’s told me many good things about you,” he says with a polite smile, his hamster cheeks puffing up in that adorably boyish way. The surrounding aunties all begin to coo at his handsome face (unfair!), but they’re quickly silenced by a sharp glare from your Aunt Sohee. She appraises him, giving him a once over with a pursed lip.

“Long-term boyfriend, huh? Are you sure you aren’t paying her or something? Y/N hasn’t had a boyfriend in years. Her cousins have told me that she’s been too busy with other… extracurricular activities to bother sticking around,” your aunt says snidely, her sneer deepening. She lets go of your face, crossing her arms when she spies the expensive watch on his wrist. “Ah, I see that you’re well-off. I just can’t possibly see why else you’d be staying with her if not for other reasons.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising, the veins on your forehead undoubtedly bulging as you try to suppress your rage. Screw your cousin for spreading a rumor that you’re a whore! It’s as if you were the one sucking guys off in the locker rooms when the two of you were in the second year of high school and not her. You haven’t even had your first proper kiss, for heaven’s sake!

Instead of getting angry, Seokjin’s expression hardly changes at all. His serene smile is still plastered on his face, but only you can tell that he’s even remotely bothered by their rude remarks. You can feel the air around him turn frosty, but your oblivious aunties are still too busy tittering amongst themselves, exchanging insults at your expense.

“Oh, are we that obvious?” Seokjin tilts his head, feigning innocence. Your head jerks towards him, your eyes bugging out of their sockets. What the fuck? “You are so right, Auntie Sohee. I’m sure Y/N must have informed you about our predicament. You see, we’ve—”

“Your predicament?” Aunt Sohee scoffs, interrupting Seokjin mid-speech. “I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, bringing her little boy-toy to the holy matrimony of her cousin—”

“—been trying to produce an heir to the Kim Line for months now,” Seokjin sighs heavily, looking off into the distance with glazed, dreamy eyes. You nearly cough out a lung at his sudden proclamation, about to interject and ask him what on earth he was talking about. Your words die on your tongue, however, when he grips your hand tightly underneath the table. He taps three times on the back of your hand: an old sign that you both made back in high school whenever he was busy bullshitting his way out of trouble.

Luckily, none of your aunts notice your blunder, all of them too occupied trying to wrap their heads around what Seokjin had said. Multiple mouths drop open in surprise and disbelief, including your Aunt Sohee. Her penciled eyebrows arch comically high, her smoothened forehead wrinkling infinitesimally (a feat in itself, for you were sure she had long since lost any ability to move the skin on her face.)

“I beg your pardon?” she whispers, staring daggers at Seokjin.

Then beg, you think to yourself. Judging by the way the corners of Seokjin’s lips lift slightly, you have a strong feeling that he was thinking the same thing to himself. Instead, he says, “Yes, Aunt Sohee. You see, I come from a long line of businessmen. Ever heard of Kim Enterprises.”

Her face turns pale. “You mean… the Kim Enterprises? The one that owns—”

“South Korea’s largest chain of department stores? I’m flattered that you’re familiar,” he winks. He leans forward, gesturing for your aunts to come closer, like he’s imparting state secrets to them. “My older brother, who has been married for quite some time, has chosen to remain childless at the behest of his wife. For that reason, my father put me up to the task of producing an heir for the company.”

“An heir?” your aunt repeats, dumbfounded.

Seokjin nods, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, it’s quite unfortunate, but it’s a responsibility I’m willing to take. My family is notorious for planning our lives, even for the next 50 years, so I am forever grateful to have Y/N who is willing to bring me multiple potential heirs to my family.”

“Multiple heirs?” Your aunts shriek in unison, causing a few nearby guests to look over at your table in curiosity. You wave at them awkwardly in apology, hoping to get them to ignore the absolute clusterfuck happening right in front of you.

You feel Seokjin kick you gently in the shin, urging you to say something as well. You clear your throat, channeling all the pent-up Seokjin energy that you had indirectly absorbed over the years of being his friend. “That’s right… My Jinnie has always been so lonely, living in his gigantic mansion with his piles of money. He may have never felt the loving touch of his father, but I’m certain that we’ll be great parents to our children. Why, we’re almost like a pair of rabbits when it comes to—”

Aunt Sohee clears her throat abruptly, a deep flush coloring her cheeks as she glares daggers at you. She looks absolutely peeved, and it takes all your mental fortitude to restrain yourself from jumping up in triumph. Take that, wench!

“I have to admit that this is somewhat… unexpected,” your aunt says carefully, pointing a tight smile at Seokjin. He beams back, positively delighted.

“Y/N is quite the catch. I’m grateful to have her in my life,” he says, his tone growing soft by the end. He looks at you then, and you find a mysterious emotion floating in his eyes that you can’t quite name. When you blink and try to get a closer look, his careful façade is back in place.

Eventually, your aunts lose interest in you once they realize they can no longer bully you, not when you had an incredibly rich boyfriend to back you up. “Must be nice being a rich boy, huh?” you snicker, teasing the blushing boy beside you. Thanks to his hair growing longer than usual, the tips of his ears are miraculously hidden away. When you brush his hair back, they are as red as a baboon’s ass.

“Oh, shut up. You know I hate flaunting my dad’s money,” he whines, pouting cutely. He fingers the watch on his wrist, staring at it uncomfortably. “This isn’t even my watch. I had to borrow one from my brother.”

“Well, you did it for me, so I suppose it’s not all bad,” you laugh, pinching his cheek lightly. “Plus, it was funny watching my aunts shut up for once. They’re just mad that you’re richer than the groom.”

“Really? What does he do?”

“He’s an entrepreneur.” You snort, emphasizing the word with air quotations. “Honestly, he just calls himself that while he waits for his self-made business to pop off or whatever. No such luck so far, if what I heard was right.”

“Lucky for you, you’re stuck with my devastatingly handsome face and stinkin’ rich bank account,” he jokes, contorting his face into a funny expression until you’re left snorting at his antics. Little does he know, you still would’ve l***d him even if he wasn’t any of those things, but that’d be too cringey to say. What are you, some sort of romantic lead protagonist?

It takes a little bit over an hour for dessert to start getting served, by which point the bride and groom decide to make their rounds to greet the guests. “Don’t you think this is the perfect time to put our plan into motion? The dance floor is open and we should be able to make it to the center without anyone noticing,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you say, but just as you’re about to get up from your seat, a flurry of white blocks your path in an instant. You startle slightly, falling back to your chair and hitting Seokjin in the chest with a soft grunt. “Shit, sorry about that Seokjin—”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my dear cousin,” a voice cuts you off, the disdain in their voice dripping like acid down your ear canals. Your blood freezes instinctively, years of past trauma crashing down on you as your childhood bully stands just inches away from you, her blood-red lips stretched into a broad smirk.

“Kairi,” you greet.

“Y/N,” she responds.

“Seokjin!” Seokjin adds helpfully.

Your cousin turns to him slowly. “Quite right,” she hisses, eyebrows pinched together in thinly-veiled annoyance. “I’ve heard through some whispers that my baby cousin finally managed to snag a rich kid for a boyfriend and I just couldn’t help but let my curiosity drag me over here.” She looks you up and down, snorting at what she sees. “You would think that having a chaebol as a boyfriend would mean you could at least afford a proper dress.”

You glance down at your dress: a hand-me-down from your mother because you couldn’t be bothered to buy a new one, not when you’d rather choke on Satan’s hot fiery balls for all eternity than spend any amount of money just to attend your cousin’s wedding. Despite this, you can’t help your cheeks from heating in embarrassment, an automatic response after years of bullying and torment from that spoiled bitch.

When you don’t reply, Kairi’s smirk widens. “Oh? Cat got your tongue? Sugar daddy couldn’t even be bothered to buy you a dress? While you’re at it, maybe you should ask for a new car too. I’m surprised you even made it here alive in that old metal deathtrap of yours. You’re lucky you were just late to the reception instead of dead on the street.”

You can sense Seokjin staring at you from your right. Your fists are clenched tightly on your skirt, your nails nearly tearing the fabric in your searing rage. Slowly, carefully, Seokjin slips his hands underneath yours—he pries your death grip open until he can lace his fingers in between yours. At once, your anger melts at his tender gesture, your focus pulled away from your cousin and back to him. He thumbs the back of your hand, as if assuring you that he’d handle this himself.

He smiles at Kairi, not a single ounce of kindness in his eyes. “Yes, indeed. It is my mistake entirely for not ordering a dress much sooner. Y/N is so incredibly humble; she’d rather wear a vintage outfit than wear one of those paper-thin dresses from YesStyle that you and your bridesmaids seem to favor,” he sighs, pretending to be pained.

“Paper-thin? YESSTYLE?” Kairi screeches, her voice breaking the sound barrier. You watch in fascination as her skin turns an unflattering ruddy shade.

Unperturbed by her murderous aura, Seokjin prattles on. “Quite right,” he mocks her with her own words, smirking ever so slightly. “Though, I must apologize for being late to the reception. That was my fault as well. My father had a general meeting this morning for all the employees at the company, as he had wanted to announce that I would be the Vice President starting next Monday. We tried to leave sooner, but everyone had been too busy congratulating us,” he apologizes, though not apologetic in the slightest.

Your cousin could cosplay as a walking crack pipe with how much steam was puffing out of her ears. She’s livid, so much so that her fury was preventing her from formulating any sort of comeback. “You—how dare you—I swear on my—” she stutters incomprehensibly, her vulture-like nails tearing her dainty paper-thin skirt into shreds.

Just as she looks about ready to blow, her father comes around to your table. He places a hand delicately on his daughter’s shoulder, immediately understanding the situation when he sees you. “Kairi, I think it’s time for you to greet the rest of the guests. Uncle Iverson said he has a gift for you that simply cannot wait,” he says, doing his best to appease you. He gives you a genuinely regretful look; you shake your head, waving off his concern.

“It was nice seeing you, Kairi. I hope you and your husband will have a wonderful year together,” you say. You gasp exaggeratedly, holding a hand to your heart. “Oh, sorry. I meant to say I hope you have wonderful years together. Pardon my mistake.”

Before the scant amount of brain cells in your cousin’s brain could process your words, her father pulls her away, dragging her to the next table over. Once they’re out of earshot, you heave a sigh of relief. Beside you, Seokjin lets out a laugh that he had been undoubtedly holding in the past few minutes, sounding like a fish gasping for air with how much he is shaking with mirth.

“Fuck, that was hilarious. Did you see how angry she got? Beautiful,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. “Love that for us!”

“Damn. I knew you were good at bullshitting, but even your acting skills almost convinced me,” you whistle lowly, impressed. “You sure you’re not a con-artist in disguise?”

“All good businessmen are con-artists, my young padawan,” he snickers, winking at you. He shrugs. “You get used to dealing with assholes like her when you attend enough rich people parties. Besides, all good lies are rooted in the truth, after all. That’s what my father taught me when I was seven.”

“You must have been a terrible child, then.” You laugh, before realizing what he had just said. “Wait. Rooted in the truth? What does that mean?”

“Oh. Well,” he clears his throat, giggling nervously. He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “I am the vice president of dad’s company now. I just lied about the meeting being this morning. He announced it a day ago or something. Not that it’s a big deal or anything…”

You gawk at him, speechless. Not for the first time in your life, you are once again stunned by the absurdity of the man before you. How did men like him exist outside of cheesy k-dramas? He’s handsome, rich, funny, AND well-mannered? It’s almost like some love-crazed author had penned him into existence for their entertainment.

Seokjin breaks you from your reverie, tapping you thrice on your shoulder. “Shall we go? The dance floor is still empty. It’s now or never.”

You nod excitedly, standing up to head towards the center of the hall. This time, there is no one stopping you as the two of you make your way towards your destination. The lights near the dancefloor are still dimly lit, as most of the lighting is currently focused on the guests as the bride and groom make their rounds to greet everyone. Even if Seokjin got onto his knees right now, only a few people nearby would notice, so you’d have to do something to catch people’s attention.

“This is going to be moderately to highly embarrassing for a few moments, but I think that’s the atmosphere we’re going for, isn’t it?” Seokjin whispers, his mouth embarrassingly close to yours as he holds you gently by the waist. There isn’t a need for him to stand so close to you, but you have to admit his presence is mostly calming—minus the fact that he’s been your crush for five years and he’s going to be fulfilling one of your deepest fantasies in front of your entire extended family. No biggie.

“I suppose so. What are you gonna do to get their attention?” you ask, palms beginning to sweat. Despite this, Seokjin still takes your hands into his own, a small smile on his lips.

“Just watch,” he whispers, before slowly getting down on one knee.

Ba-dump. Here we fucking go.

“My dearest Y/N… The apple of my eye, the straw to my berry, the con to my dom,” Seokjin says, projecting his voice so that it can be heard even above the music. One of the violin players is even startled long enough to stop playing, further causing more heads to turn in their direction. You hear a gasp coming from your left, but you force yourself not to look. Instead, you stare right back into Seokjin’s sweet brown eyes, your heart beating a mile a minute.

This isn’t real… This is just a prank, bro. Get over yourself, you hiss internally, but your heart refuses to listen.

“You’ve been in my life for almost half a decade, and not a day goes by wherein I don’t wonder what it would be like to live the rest of my days with you. In many ways, I wouldn’t be the person I am if it hadn’t been for your presence in my life,” he says. If you look deeper into his eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that they looked wetter than they had just a moment ago.

“Y/N, you are the person I’ve loved for years now. I used to think you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, so I was always scared to pop the question. I had many opportunities to ask, but I suppose tonight just felt like the right moment. I was afraid that if I didn’t do it now, I might never get the chance to ask again, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you slip away out of cowardice.”

For some reason, his words seem almost too real, like he was speaking the truth. You have never doubted his acting skills, but would you be willing to wonder if there was even a small possibility that there was some truth to his tale? You swallow thickly, the need to ask just dangling on the tip of your tongue.

He rifles through his jacket pocket, procuring a small velvet box. He thumbs it almost reverently, his hands shaking slightly, but you can blame that on the nerves from hundreds of people watching you. He takes a deep breath, opening the box with a soft click. “My dearest Y/N… Would you give me the honor of spending the rest of my days with you?”

You feel your breath get knocked out of you in an instant, the genuine adoration in his eyes too much for you to handle. You stammer slightly, too busy staring at him to properly register the loud claps, screams, and hollers all around you. “I… Seokjin… This is…”

“MAKE THEM STOP! SOMEONE KICK THEM OUT RIGHT NOW!” You dimly hear your cousin screaming obscenities somewhere, but you are still too caught up in the moment to care. The world only consists of you and Seokjin—nothing else matters right now.

When you look down at the box in his hands, fully expecting to see a comically large ring pop nestled in its cushions, but instead you find—

You gasp, nearly doubling over in surprise. “Oh my god, Seokjin. Is that a real fucking diamond ring?!”

He shrugs, smiling wryly. “Only the best rocks for the girl who rocks my socks off every night,” he jokes, but his nervousness is palpable. He’s sweating, a drop trailing down the side of his face despite the strong air conditioning.

Oh shit. It hits you right then that his proposal is real. The damned idiot is fucking proposing to you in front of your most hated family members, and he’s proposing to you for real.

“Kim Seokjin, please fucking explain yourself—”

But before he can have the chance to open his mouth, you feel rough hands grab you by the shoulders, pulling you away from him. “I’m sorry I have to do this, ma’am. Bride’s orders,” one of the waiters says, awkwardly escorting you to the exit. When you turn back, you see another waiter pulling Seokjin away as well, the box with the ring still clutched tightly in his hand.

The two waiters deposit you outside the hall, bowing stiffly before heading back into the room. You’re still breathing heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Seokjin isn’t any better, bent over with his hands on his knees. From your vantage point, you can see how red his entire neck is, his blush reaching even past the collar of his shirt.

“Seokjin…” you trail off, unable to say another word. You’re completely flabbergasted, elated, annoyed, and mostly just mind-fucked because when on earth did Kim Seokjin ever have a crush on you?!

“I’m sorry. That must have been quite a shock,” he coughs out a laugh. He rubs his face, embarrassment rolling off of him in waves. “I just… It was sort of a last-minute decision I made. I’ve been into you for years now, and I know I’m kinda putting you on the spot by proposing like that, but I knew if I didn’t do anything soon, you might just slip away before I can say anything.”

“Wait. So are you really… proposing to me?” You squeak out the last bit, your face mirroring his reddened state.

“No!” He shouts suddenly, before covering his mouth with his palm. “S-sorry, what I mean to say is, it wasn’t really a marriage proposal. It was more like… just a general proposal? I do want to live with you forever, but I know that thought must be daunting and—oh god, I don’t even know if you like me like that, so this must be incredibly weird and out of line. Please excuse me while I shove a cactus up my ass—”

“Seokjin,” you interrupt, silencing his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut. “Are you… asking me out?”

He nods his head. “Yeah…”

“And what you said is true? You actually like me?”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you,” he says, before getting shy again. He looks down at the ring box. “Fuck. This isn’t a real engagement ring, by the way. It’s more like a promise ring, so you don’t have to feel bad for rejecting me.”

“Oh my god, I’m in love with an idiot,” you groan, pulling him into a hug. You nestle into his chest, giggling hysterically into his shirt. “I fucking hate you.”

“Wait, I’m getting mixed signals over here,” Seokjin says, gasping when he feels how tightly you embrace him. He doesn’t complain, however. He returns the gesture in kind, nuzzling deep into your neck. “So, does that mean the feeling is mutual?”

“Yes, you idiot. Now give me my ring.”

“My pleasure, princess.” He laughs, drawing away slightly so that he can slip the ring on your finger. The diamond shines brightly under the fluorescent lights, but nothing brings you more joy than having the boy you love in your arms.

As the two of you are sharing a sweet moment, it takes a second for you to realize that the commotion from inside the venue still hasn’t stopped. When you crane your heads, you spot one of the doors had been left ajar, allowing you to slip your heads through the crack just in time to see Seokjin’s beautiful bare ass being projected onto a large screen.

The musical notes of Rick Astley’s most popular song play loudly on the speakers, drowning out the sounds of the bride screaming bloody murder as the IT people tried their best to sort out the mess. The Seokjin on the screen slaps his ass in time with the tune, his glorious moon-shaped globes shaking mesmerizingly for all to see.

When you look to Seokjin for an explanation, he merely shrugs his shoulders. “They really should do background checks on the people they hire for these things. Taking that one video editing course in university really does pay off, huh?”

“Sure does,” you grin, linking your arms together. “Now let’s get some fucking McDonalds.”

And so, you lived happily ever after—the end.

689 notes · View notes

afictionalwhore · 4 years ago

Text

Learning Your Lesson

A/N: This isn't the first fanfic I've written, but it's the first I've finished. It's on the darker side, which I have no problem writing, I don't want my blog to be only that. That Keishin kitchen one is coming I just gotta get through finals. Thank you @kogo for the idea! You mentioned it, so I took it and bolted.

TW: noncon/dubcon, yandere, phone sex, masturbation, implied drinking

"Baby," Hawks cooed into the phone, "what's wrong?"

It was in the middle of his night patrol when you called him, the ringtone specifically set for you jingling throughout the empty streets from his jacket pocket. When he picked up, he was met with your soft sobs on the other end of the line.

"Keigo?" Your voice barely audible. "Can you come get me? I don't want to talk about it here."

"(y/n), what's the matter," Hawks says, voice dropping an octave.

“You were right, Keigo,” you sob. “I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight.”

“(Y/n),” Hawks said, the seriousness in his voice chilling you more thoroughly than the night air. “What happened?” He was growing restless, pacing the same alleyway. He told you not to go out. You should have listened to him. You should always listen to him. He can only hope you learned your lesson this time.

Since you and the Number 2 Hero began dating, Hawks had grown increasingly paranoid about your safety. If it had been anyone else, Hawks' possessiveness over you could have been seen as controlling; you told yourself that he only had your safety in mind. Dating a pro hero, especially such a high ranking one, came with its dangers, and your quirklessness made you an even easier target. If anything happened to you, Hawks wouldn't know what to do with himself, a fact he constantly reminded you of.

You insisted on going out with your friends tonight. “Keigo,” you whined, stretching his name out like you were one of his teenage fans, “Please. I haven’t seen them in months.” You were just a quirkless nobody, making minimum wage and barely scraping by to make rent and survive your shitty neighborhood. Scratch the latter bit. You were just a quirkless nobody, but since your relationship with Hawks kicked off, the pro had moved you into his apartment, a much safer, much more suitable place for you, and you know longer had to worry about your safety. Except on occasions like these. Your friends, all either quirkless or with minor quirks that would be useless in protecting you should anything happen, were gathering to celebrate an engagement, and surprise surprise they invited you.

Hawks tried his best to persuade you otherwise, listing all the dangers of going out without him, or going out at all, especially when you were dressed like that. Your little skirt falling just over your ass. Anyone could drop their wallet behind you and sneak a peek up your skirt. Your shirt was much too tight; and where was your jacket? You're just showing off the goods for everyone, like you were asking for something to happen.

But you could not, would not be swayed. You missed your friends. Though you loved Hawks, “It's Keigo, baby,” he would insist, you craved your friendships, and you were overjoyed to find that they didn’t hate you for practically disappearing on them since your relationship with Hawks, "Keigo", had become serious.

“What happened?” Hawks repeated, his impatience growing.

“It all happened so quickly,” you sobbed.

“(y/n),” Hawks quite nearly growled out. “What. Happened.” You were really testing him right now, what with interrupting his patrol, albeit his boring, uneventful patrol. How could he help you when you weren't telling him what was wrong.

"I was leaving the bar. You remember which one?" Your voice shook. Hawks held back a scoff. Of course he knew where the bar was. It was the very bar frequented by the League, nestled neatly into the roughest area of town; it's inexpensiveness appealing to your friends' cheapness more than the potential danger drove them away. He told you they couldn't be trusted.

"Well I was leaving," You must be shaking like a leaf. Hawks can hear it in your voice. "And I get this feeling, like someone's following me. So I walk faster, and I—" you cut. Soft cries filled Hawks' ears as he listened.

Hawks can feel himself growing tighter in his pants as you cry. He knows where this is heading. He told you not to go, but you didn't listen. It would be rude of you to ask them to reschedule to a date when Hawks could more easily pick you up, or even better, accompany you. You were too overjoyed when they reached out with an invitation despite your disappearance in their life. But now here you were, sobbing—god how he loved your cries—to him over the phone because some asshole had roughed you up a bit. What did you expect leaving The League of Villains' bar alone at this ungodly hour?

As angry as he was over your stupidity, he couldn't deny how hot you sounded in your current state. His arousal was confirmed by the decent tent forming in his uniform pants. After a quick scan of the area, Hawks found a nearby alleyway to slip into. He was thankful his designated area to patrol tonight was rather unlively. Leaning against the rough bricks, Hawks found himself quickly undoing his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself.

"Go on, baby," Hawks said. It took all his self control not to let so much as a slight hitch in his voice show as he encouraged you to talk.

"Keigo, please. I don't know why I have to tell you all right now." you sobbed. "Please, just come get me."

"Baby," Hawks drawled, suppressing a moan as he languidly stroked himself up to full hardness. "I don't want you to have to relive this more than you have to. So you just tell me now, as detailed as possible. I can fill out whatever reports you would need to for you, and you won't ever have to think about this again." It was hard for you to argue with Hawks in your fragile state. “I know what’s best for you, baby bird. Tell me everything.”

So you did. You told Keigo all about the strange man who you guessed had followed you out of the bar. Who would just be lurking outside the League's bar waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting quirkless? Hawks would bet his next several paychecks just who would be doing exactly that.

You told Hawks about the rough, calloused hand over your mouth accompanied by the low voice in your ear whispering that if you so much as made a squeak, you'd be cremated on the spot. Bingo. At least he wasn't losing much in a bet against himself. Judging by the state of his hard cock in his gloved hand, he was actually winning here.

Hawks would have just laughed at you had he not been so fucking turned on. He would have to look past that cheesy "cremation" line. How did you not know who was lurking around the sleazy bar waiting for a hot piece of meat, for you, to stumble out the bar, drunk and alone. Were you always such an idiot? How did you ever survive without him?

You told him about how you had been unceremoniously dragged into the alley next to the bar and shoved face first into the bricks of one of the bar's outer walls. Hawks' eyes fluttered shut, his mouth hung up as his head fell back against the wall he braced himself against. His fist picked up the pace, imagining your soft protests and how lovely your weak, slurred cries of "please no" would have sounded as your skirt was flipped up and panties ripped through. Knowing your attacker, a hole very well could have been burned through for easy access. He'd have to check once he got you home and asleep.

Hawks continued pumping himself as you continued your sob fest, jerking his foreskin up and down over his angry almost purple head. God how he wished to be there, listening to your sobs, cooing at you that everything was going to be okay as he kissed your tear stained, brick scratched cheeks and stroked a finger over that pretty, abused pussy of yours.

His gloved thumb rubbing over his slit, as he pictured how badly your insides were wrecked, how that jacob's ladder would have scraped against your warm plush walls. Were you even wet? You had to be. After all, only a slut would have gone out when he told them otherwise. He could only imagine how rough the man in question was with you and your pliant body. In your drunken state, how hard could you have fought back? Not very hard, Hawks had gotten you nice and drunk quite a number of times, and that was exactly why he protested you going out in the first place. His breathing grew heavier the closer he came to his release.

"Keigo?" your feeble voice called out over the phone's speaker. "Are you okay?"

"Yea, baby. I'm okay." Hawks collected himself. Pull yourself together, man. "Are you okay? I'm just so angry." that you didn't listen to me.

"Keigo, are you close?" Oh he was close alright. Just a few more strokes, a few more sniffles and whines from you, and he would be right there.

“Please, Keigo. Hurry up. I’m cold and scared. Keigo, I’m so scared.” That's all he needed.

“I’m coming, baby. I’m coming.” Hawks said, praying you couldn’t hear the breathlessness in his voice. His brilliant wings puffed and gave a few strained flutters before shaking tensely as his hand stilled and streaks of hot white fell on the dirty street below him. You weren’t the most intuitive, so you’d probably attribute it to his anger.

With his lust no longer clouding his mind, a sudden worry stuck Hawks.

"Did he cum in you?" Hawks practically growled.

"What? No. Why are you asking me this?" your confusion briefly pausing your sobs.

"Just checking to see if you need me to make a stop by the pharmacy," Hawks explained as he stuffed himself back in his pants. "I'm on my way. I just have to make a quick call, baby. I love you." He zipped himself up and fixed his belt back into place. He shook out and stretched his wings. Hawks couldn't remember ever cumming that hard.

"No. Keigo, please don't hang up," you hiccuped.

"Baby, baby," Hawks cooed, "I gotta let the commission know that I'm taking off early. You don't think I'd just continue working after this?" A smirk worked its way onto his handsome face. He could imagine your cute face scrunched into a pout. "Do you have that little faith in me? It's the least you could let me do before I leave patrol early for you. You think you learned your lesson?"

"Um," your voice trembles, Hawks’ last statement confusing you. "I suppose." You weren’t sure what your lesson was; you just wanted Keigo to take you home.

"Good girl,” a dark smile finds his way on Hawks’ face. I'll call you right back. I promise," Hawks reassures you, the fear in your voice as you feebly protested was almost enough to make him hard again. "I'll let you hang up, okay? I love you."

"Okay," you sniff, "I love you too."

Hawks hears the light click signaling that you hung up and glances down at his phone for confirmation before quickly dialing another number, his smile growing darker as he waited out the ringing. After about three rings, Hawks broke out in a full smile, his crazed golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the alleyway he had hidden himself into.

“What you do want now, ya fucking pigeon?” a rough, gravely voice answered.

“Thanks, Touya. I really owe you one.”

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks solo #implied touya x reader #noncon/dubcon #hawks is an asshole #yandere hawks

189 notes · View notes

flamingredanon · 3 years ago

Note

Au where the clan despises henry after he takes over. They can't do much because he got the chiefdom by their code but they can do enough. The elites constantly questioning his decisions making a ten minute discussion take hours. Even when they agree in the end that his plan is best (and it is it is damnit) they are snobby and rude about it. The newer recruits follow this lead and he can hear talking behind his back. Dirty looks that turn neutral when he's near just a terrible time for henry. And he knows that reginald is fanning the flames but removing him as second would start more shit so he doesnt.

In the fact the only reason henry hasn't lost it and become the monster they all act like he is, is because of how nice right is to him.

Right the man who has the most reason to despise him and instead he is the kindest. Nearly every night right shows up to help henry with the paperwork and be a listening ear to all the nonsense. If asked he offers solutions that he remembers working for reginald when he started but if not he just offers support. And while he knows the advice won't help (its not because he's new they just despise him) he can't help but ask for it if only to have right talking to him for longer.

To be with the one person he tolerates and is fond of for just a bit longer.

But as the days to the rocket launch get closer and closer the little string his control has become is getting closer and closer to snapping. And you know would it really be so bad if it did? He just has to make sure right, nice kind only good one right, doesn't get caught in the crossfires.

After what should of been a simple meeting to finalize things for the rocket launch turned into basically a Reginald ass kissing contest, Henry had enough. If those Toppats thought him a monster, then a monster he would be.

Before Henry did anything else, he sent Right off on a heist to get some last minute supplies. After Henry kissed Right's hand and wished him good luck, Right was off. The only person that didn't deserve his wrath was safely away from what would be a warzone.

Henry disabled all the escape pods and went to work damaging things in the engine room, taking out any Toppats that was sent to stop him. Henry then crawled into the vents, sneaking into each of the Elites that were there's rooms and offing them one by one.

Henry's light blue outfit was now drenched in crimson, as he continued his work on destroying those that called him a monster. All while the Airship is falling helplessly in the air.

Henry finally made it to the cockpit, made it to a Reginald that was absolutely scared out of his mind. Henry approached closer and closer, a demented grin overtaking his face as he raised the metal baseball bat, ready to score a homerun with Reginald's face.

Henry felt someone take the bat from his hands and then felt the strangest feeling, he was being pulled into a hug. Henry looked up to see that it was Right, just holding him tight and shushing away his fears and anger. Henry returned the hug in kind, crying and letting everything out.

Henry felt the Airship hit the ground, the smell of smoke and fire filling the air. And then he heard that smug bastard call him a monster, that he always knew Henry was just some beast.

Henry growled in anger, but before he could do anything else, Right stepped infront of him and grabbed Reginald by the shirt. And then Right went off, saying that if they had treated Henry with an once of human dignity, if they treated and respected him like a fellow Toppat and not some monster, then Henry wouldn't of lashed out in pain.

Reginald was shocked that Right was defending this usurper, after everything he did, Right chose the intruder over his own friend. Right throw Reginald down and plucked Henry into his arms. Right was going to take Henry and himself far away from any Governments or Toppat and start the healing process from his hurting.

And then Reginald fired at Right, forgetting that his metal limbs were bulletproof. Right stopped in mid air, turned around and the last thing Reginald saw was a blinding red laser headed straight for him.

---

The Government had no idea what happened to the Toppat Clan, only that most members were severally injured, dead or missing. The one person who survived the Airship crash with only bumps and bruises, Dave Panpa, wasn't talking anytime soon, clearly traumatized by the whole thing.

Right had taken Henry to a small cottage in Canada, where they both slowly recovered from the things they've done. They might be monsters now, but they atleast had each other.

#lizzyask #henry stickmin #right hand man #reginald copperbottom #murder #lots of murder #character deaths #alot of that as well #mistreatment #good going toppat clan

18 notes · View notes

mrwinterr · 5 years ago

Text

Happy

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You meet your favorite artist and get more than what you bargained for.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual and protected sex, oral [male and female receiving], vaginal fingering, belly bulge, light degradation) dirty talk/language and recording. Mentions of drugs and alcohol and a tiny bit of angst.

Disclaimer: I don’t smoke regularly, so anything that has to do with drugs mentioned are techniques I’ve outweighed based on what I’ve been taught by different people. I don’t know which method works best nor am I encouraging the activity. It just came with this fic’s territory. It’s not that deep. You do you, boo.

Title Inspiration: “Happy” by The Maine

A/N: I might or might not have based some of this on true events. All I can say is, life is short, shoot your shot! Enjoy!

A/N #2: There’s a Part 2 now!

“You owe me.” Your friend next to you said for probably the third time this hour. You learned earlier in the day to tune her out. She had been saying that since you persuaded her to accompany you on the weekend long road trip to the neighboring state just so you could see your favorite band…again.

Growing up your parents thought this was just another phase, but as your teenaged years passed on by and you’re now well into adulthood, you’re still a bigger stan for The Avengers as ever.

The Avengers consisted of three members: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Everyone had their take on each of the guys, Steve was the nice one, Sam was the goofy one and Bucky was the bad one. It was silly. They weren’t *NSYNC or The Backstreet Boys, but the fangirls will be fangirls.

Their music wasn’t exactly mainstream, but they did very well within in their genre’s scene. They graced the covers of a couple of magazines, garnered thousands, close to millions, of views and streams online, were featured on TV every now and then, toured around the globe, sold a bunch of records, even independently, but despite all that notoriety, they stayed true to their sound and that’s what kept you around as a fan.

That and the band’s front man Bucky Barnes.

He was hot – plain and simple. Ok, maybe he was just that to most, including your friend who couldn’t deny it, but you didn’t want to objectify the man. What their music had done to get you through the years, they were more than that. There was a level of respect there. You also didn’t buy into the “bad boy” gimmick the fans have dubbed for him. They were human beings just like the rest of us. Imagine being called something like that by the public? They just so happened to be fortunate enough to share their talent to the rest of the world.

“You’ve already seen them. I don’t know why you think you need to for what a tenth time?” She clearly wasn’t amused by your infatuation with the band, but she was still your friend and she would always be by your side through thick and thin even if she didn’t have the same taste in music as you. You loved her for that. Who else would stand for hours in a dark room full of loud, sweaty, smelly, rude even, and sometimes drunk people with no self-control for you? She really was the real MVP.

And she was right though. You’ve already seen The Avengers perform. It was probably more, but you’ve lost count. Whenever they’re in your city or two to four hours in the next one over, you loved this band alright!

You both were polar opposites standing next to each other in line waiting for the venue doors to open. She was calm and still, arms crossed with an unamused look on her face – she could almost play as the “mom that tagged along and didn’t want to be there” – but you knew she wasn’t really mad. There was a bar inside she could occupy herself at. You on the other hand were trying to contain your excitement. You tried your best to not fidget around in anticipation so much. You didn’t want to sweat off your makeup that you managed to apply on point or get an embarrassing stain on your clothes.

“It doesn’t matter,” was always the response you gave her, “their music means everything to me. I’ll always come out to support them.”

She playfully rolled her eyes and scoffed a bit at that. She wasn’t trying to knock you down. She knew you deeply liked the band, but she also knew another side of you, and she liked to pick at it. “Yeah that and you’re into Bucky,” she said and just flat out poked at the side of your breasts. The bra that you chose to purposely wear tonight gave your boobs an extra push and it didn’t go unnoticed by her. They were out there, tastefully, since you were hardly the flashy type.

“Okay, but who isn’t?” You flare back swatting her hand away and trying to shut her down. You didn’t need to have this conversation with her while other fans were around. You didn’t want to sound like a fangirl. You weren’t 13 anymore.

“Chill.” She said raising her hands up in surrender. She wasn’t going to fight you on this one again.

When the top of the hour hit, the roar of the crowd signaled the doors had opened. Once inside, you hit the line to the bathroom considering you’d been outside for a few hours. You didn’t just have to pee, but you needed to freshen up. Your cheeks were a bit flushed from standing in the heat. You dabbed lightly at your face with a small blotting sheet, sprayed a bit of body spray and finished putting every hair back into place before finding your friend, who was already at the bar.

You sported a 21 and up paper wristband that was handed at the entrance, however you weren’t planning on drinking. Usually you had one or two drinks at most, but you were assuming you would be the designated driver tonight. You just always flashed your ID to the bouncer for the wristband to emphasize that you were of age. Unfortunately, some bands have had a bad reputation of fooling around with underaged girls, who lied about it.

She held up her drink to you with a smile on her face. Yeah, you were going to be the one driving back to the hotel, but at least she’s happy. She tried to coax you into ordering a drink of your own, but you only shook your head at her nonsense and stood away from the crowd.

As an avid concert goer, you’ve been to enough shows that you’d been in every section of the crowd. Hell, you’ve even gone crowd surfing before! Plus, you couldn’t hang with those vicious and hormonal fans in the crowd anymore, so you learned to enjoy the show from the back with a full view.

The opening bands were decent. You’d never heard of them, one was probably local, but you always believed live music was just as good, if not, better than opposed to being recorded and remastered at a studio.

During their sets, you caved and bought a drink from the bar, hoping it’d help to pass the time before the headliners came on. Your friend was seemingly on her phone when a random guy approached you asking if he could buy you a drink. The house lights were on. Did he not see the can of beer in your hands? You politely declined his offer and further advances until he gave up and walked away.

“Girl. He was cute!” Your friend said shoving you lightly.

“I wasn’t interested,” you shrug and taking a swig of your drink.

“You’re not being fair,” she started and seeing that you weren’t catching on continued, “you can’t wait around hoping that one day Bucky will notice you. Honey, he came here to play a show and make money not look for a girlfriend.” Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh, bursting your bubble like that and all, but her intentions were good. Bucky Barnes just set the standards too high.

She wasn’t wrong. Guys like Bucky meet new people every day, met girls probably way prettier than you. The majority of their fans were female because let’s face it, the guys had sex appeal and you know what they say…sex sells.

Looking around the venue, you took in the kinds of girls you were going up against. There was a mixture of women of different backgrounds and sizes decked out in different styles, but the ones who won most of the time were the ones that looked good dressed in risqué clothing and heels. Some of them probably even wore less make-up than you or none at all. You couldn’t understand how it was effortless for some people.

It wasn’t that you had low self-esteem. You had your fair share of internal struggle, so sometimes your insecurity played its part. You had your good days and you had your bad days.

You decided upon wearing something simple that you would be comfortable in while still serving a look. And the only other significant thing you did to your make-up was add in a little more shimmer. Yeah you wanted to impress, not sell your soul to the devil.

“Okay, but I just really wasn’t interested,” you said again hoping she’d understand. She did, aware you wrestled with that demon in your head always taunting and ridiculing you that you could look better when you’re perfect just the way you are. With an added bonus of telling you that Bucky was missing out if he hasn’t noticed you already, she ordered another drink in time before the lights dimmed and ear-piercing screams erupted to alert that The Avengers finally took the stage to headline the show.

Like each of the shows you’d previously attended, they were amazing. They poured their hearts out with each beat and belt. Every lyric resonated with you so deeply. There was just so much raw emotion packed into their performance. The beauty of concerts was that they were designed to let you forget about all the bullshit happening in the world for a few hours. They were therapeutic for you.

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say your friend secretly liked The Avengers’ music because she broke you out of your shell and had you swaying along with her to their songs…that or it was the alcohol taking over her. You didn’t fight it and you allowed yourself to let loose.

You tried to give each member equal attention, watching them as they played, but you couldn’t help but keep your eyes on Bucky the most. They were just trained on him. His cheeky smile and onstage presence were electric. The mere sight of him, all sweaty as his clothes stuck to his skin accentuating his toned body so well, all but had you shuffling trying to ease your body’s frustration and mind.

The only time you looked away was when you swore you thought he looked at you. Making eye contact with someone on stage was kind of awkward sometimes, but with him it was almost intimidating. Believing he was probably staring at the girl behind you, you downed the rest of your drink, pushed that thought away and tried to enjoy the rest of the show.

A full set of songs that showcased their albums and a two-song encore later, you were driving yourself and your buzzed friend back to your hotel room. It wasn’t that far from the venue, electing to stay within its vicinity. Upon entering the room, you tossed the shirt you bought at the merch booth on your bed before removing your leather jacket while she face-planted down on her bed, arms wide open, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief. You couldn’t blame her. It felt great to rest right after standing on your feet for hours.

Your back rested against the headboard, you knocked your boots and socks off a while ago and had your bare feet up on your bed. You hadn’t changed out of the rest of your clothes or even wiped off your make-up yet. Instead, you sat there skimming through the timelines of your social media accounts while you waited for your friend to get out of the shower.

You had posted a few photos and videos of the night to your story, like your outfit, a few of you and your friend sightseeing, and of The Avengers’ set. You refreshed your timeline and noticed Bucky’s account pop up before everyone else that you followed. It’s no surprise that you were following them on social media. You liked seeing them share the personal moments of their lives. They used to be interactive with their fans. Bucky had even once commented on the old photo you had with the band years ago.

You met them after a show when they were just starting out with their first full-length album debuting that summer. Now, they hardly came out because all it took was one crazed fan to ruin it for everyone else. Their popularity sometimes deemed it unsafe for venues to let them stick around so late, restricting them from meeting their fans.

You click on Bucky’s account and go through his story. There was one of a view of the open road from their tour bus, a clip of a song he liked, a cryptic quote with a deep underlying meaning to it, him getting ready to go on stage and then of the show.

He had taken a photo of the crowd towards the end of the set, asked fans to tag themselves if they could, because the crowd was amazing…as if they didn’t say that in every town they played in.

His caption read: “Awesome crowd tonight! Probably our best show yet!” topped with how much he loved the city. Sometimes you wanted to reply to his posts like he was one of your friends, but then you second guessed yourself knowing he’d never see the message, or he would and just ignore it because he was busy. You knew it was a long shot, but what did you have to lose and what is it that they said these days? Shoot your shot.

You didn’t linger on the body of the message for too long, settling with a “Great show tonight! You guys were amazing as always! :)” hitting send and closing out the app thinking it would conceal any embarrassment that might come out of it. It was a ridiculous thought.

After surfing through the channels of the TV and picking at the food you had delivered to your room, your phone pinged. You saw that it was a notification from your social media account, but once your face unlocked the phone and the subject appeared, you nearly choked on the drink you were sipping on.

Bucky Barnes sent you a message.

Your heart pathetically started beating really fast. The phone almost slipped from your hands as you opened up the toxic app again to read what he said. He probably just sent you an emoji or something.

“Thanks for coming out.”

That was it. Okay, what did you except? A proposal. That was a fair response. He probably had some downtime and was able to reply to people. You couldn’t be that special…but thinking you could strike gold again, you started typing up a response.

“Of course! Will always be out there to support you guys! Hope the city treats you well and have a safe rest of the tour.” Yeah, that was a good one. You say to yourself thinking that would be the end of it…except it wasn’t.

“Appreciate it. You know of any good spots around here?”

Nope. You did not. Do you look up some recommendations for him? No, that’s too much. Great, you’re having a conversation with him through DMs and you can’t even genuinely contribute enough to hold it down.

“No, not really. I’m not from here actually. My friend and I drove here just to catch the show. Maybe YELP?” Shit. You just might’ve effectively got rid of him with turning him to the Internet instead.

“No way! That’s love. Good thinking.” They came through in separate text bubbles.

Why were guys so short? You couldn’t work with that. You thought about it for a while but came up with nothing, so you sent the sassy ‘girl sticking her hand out’ emoji as a reply. Damn, you were really bad at this.

Several minutes passed by and thinking you were really done with him; you got another message. It was Bucky again and he sent you a photo. It was from your own feed; the group photo of you and his band mates all those years ago.

“I thought I recognized you.” You sat up straight as you read that message over and over, eyes bugging. Thankful your friend was taking her sweet time in the bathroom, so she wouldn’t see you all strung up.

What? There’s no way. That was a long time ago. Your thoughts spiraled at his words that had you blushing. He’s pulling your chain.

“Impossible. That was forever ago!” I guess two could play this game then.

“I swear. You tripped and fell into my arms that night.”

What the hell? He actually remembered that? Yeah, that did indeed happen. You had been waiting outside surrounded by a bunch of other chatty girls, pushing and shoving their way to get to Bucky first. By the time he turned to you and you stepped forward, you lost your footing and fell straight onto him. He played it cool, but then you heard Sam, who was trapped in his own circle of girls, signing and taking pictures away, that Bucky has girls falling for him all the time.

“OMG. That was so embarrassing, and I was so awkward!” You couldn’t even speak to him when you managed to hold your own ground. You were young then, you thought you effectively put that behind you.

“You weren’t awkward! You were cute and that’s what has stuck with me since. One of the most memorable moments.”

Yup, he was definitely pulling your chain. While you were ecstatic that you were interacting with your favorite artist, you couldn’t help but wonder why you. He was a public figure and you were just a fan.

“Is this weird?” Came through as his next message after your silence.

Oh, no. I hope I didn’t offend him. You might as well tell it like it is and get it off your chest.

“I don’t know...just a bit. Probably because I’m just a fan? I feel like you should be careful. I mean I should be too…” You really did wonder though. How was it that people of his status were willing and freely open to people they barely knew only to get threatened of being leaked and blackmailed by their own nudes or messages? What made them trust the other party so easily with that kind of stuff? They couldn’t be that dumb. Well, you got your answer.

“I don’t think of you or anyone as just a fan, but you are right…at the same time I feel that you’re grounded enough and a good person that we can trust each other. If that makes sense.”

You weren’t sure if it did. He still didn’t really know you.

“Awe, well that’s really flattering. I totally understand that because that’s how I feel.” Did you? There was a pause between that message and the next that would come.

“What’s your cell?”

Really? It was just that easy? Oh, okay then. Nonetheless, you still gave him your number. The DMs stopped and transferred over to text messages. You have Bucky Barnes’ phone number. What fan fic were you living in? Shit like this doesn’t just happen, does it?

The texts between you and Bucky went back and forth, some playful and some slightly suggestive, but you were completely oblivious to them thinking that was just in his nature. You found out the band was staying in for the night before heading back out on the road tomorrow afternoon off to the next city. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath when you stared at his most recent text asking if you wanted to hang out. It was kind of late, but you didn’t get a guy like Bucky Barnes asking you to hang out on the regular.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questioned breaking your train of thoughts. You could see her from your peripheral that she was towel drying the ends of her hair even though you’re still staring at your phone.

“Bucky sent me a DM inviting me to his hotel room.” You answered in a stoic demeanor, but it felt really strange coming out of your mouth.

“Okay. How long was I in the shower?” Your friend asked with her hands on her hips wanting an explanation.

You recount the details and show her the messages you and Bucky had been sending to each other. She scrolled through each of them and you could see the look of apprehension forming on her face.

“I don’t know,” she said her words trailing before giving you a worried look, “shouldn’t you be the slightest bit concerned?”

“About?” You ask taking your phone back from her.

“All of this!” She exclaimed her arms outstretched in exasperation and not understanding why you were so blinded by Bucky. “You briefly met the guy, years ago might I add, and you decide it’s okay to meet him at his hotel room in a city you don’t even live in?”

Alright, it did raise a couple of red flags, but you were a consenting adult and you lived a life of being cautious and in fear a little too much you wanted to be reckless for at least one night.

“I know you’re only looking after me, but I got to go for it. You know I like him! Sure, I may not know him on a personal level, but I’m allowed to have some fun, right?” You try reasoning with her. Just how different was all this compared to what people around the world were already doing with each other anyways?

She was a bit skeptic before reluctantly agreeing and letting you go but with the promise from you to be careful, share your location and his room number with her just in case she needed to save you or come after him. You thanked her for understanding and assured her that you’d be back before check-out in the morning.

On the drive to his hotel room, you thought about how you always imagined the different scenarios of what it’d be like when you’d ever meet Bucky again. What things you’d do differently or say. How you’d make sure to not trip or do something to embarrass yourself the next time. How you’d be more confident.

Parking was a pain in any city’s downtown, you ended up having to pay for parking twice in one night. Not surprising to you, they stayed in a nice hotel. It wasn’t over-the-top nor was it fancy, but it was definitely clean and a slight step up than of what was in your budget for booking a room.

When you’re finally at his door, you wonder if you were going to be catfished. Were there other people in his room? Were you really that special? Fuck it. Was the final thought, putting an end to the rest, and knocked at his door.

You hear a click and sliding of the chain door unlock, then you’re face-to-face with Bucky. He’s dressed down in sweats and a zip-up hoodie. He shoots you a smile and steps aside for you to come inside, there wasn’t much light offered to illuminate the room other than the ones the lamps attached on the wall between the beds and what little the TV could provide.

“Oh, thank God. You’re real.” Motherfucker. Did you really just say that?

Bucky laughed at that and you explained, honest with him, that this whole thing just felt surreal. He nodded in agreement, offering to take your jacket from you and a drink. It was alcoholic. Not denying him, you accepted it and waited to see what he would do next.

You watch him sit down on the king-sized bed with his feet up, one foot over the other. You’re standing there next to the dresser that also served as a stand for the TV he was watching a random show on. Not sure what to do, you set the drink aside, kick off your boots, leaving them next to the luggage rack, and sit on the spot next to him with a considerable amount of distance between your bodies.

It’s quiet and you’re trying to hush the voices in your head. Did he really invite you to just watch TV with him? Is this awkward for him? Oh, no. He’s going to realize I’m boring.

You feel the bed shift and you see Bucky is leaning over, opposite of you, to grab something from the nightstand. You don’t see much of what he’s doing as your view was blocked by his large back. When he changes positions, a brief spark of a flame emits from his hands. Your eyes trail up from his hands to his lips and notice it was a blunt. You were pretty sure this was a non-smoking room, but it wasn’t under your name, so it didn’t really matter in the end.

Of course, he did that kind of stuff. It was part of the lifestyle to be exposed to it. He took a steady hit and you watched as he exhaled slowly, a cloud of smoke disappearing into the air in front of him.

“Want a hit?” He asked passing and offering you the blunt.

It’d been a while since you last smoked anything. You tried it a few times and even then, you didn’t think you did it right. You stare at the neatly rolled blunt in between his thumb and forefinger, but not too long as to not let it go to waste and ash up all over the bed.

You steadily take it from him and carefully attempt to take a puff. Wrong. That puff was anything but steady. Not realizing how close you were actually sitting next to Bucky, when you tried to exhale you ended up coughing – terribly. Bucky’s face scrunches up as he braces for the impact of white smoke to hit his face.

“Oh my God,” you say covering your mouth in disbelief, but it was a bad idea because your body didn’t like that, and you ended up coughing even harder.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to get out in between your coughing fit while passing him back the blunt and trying your best to waft at the smoke. Well, if you thought your first encounter with Bucky was embarrassing. This had to take the cake. It wasn’t proper etiquette to blow smoke in the other person’s face.

He waves it off letting you know that it wasn’t a big deal before taking another hit. He even begins to give you a few pointers to inhale in increments, until you get used to the smoke. You don’t even notice the long looks Bucky gives you hit after hit. You take a second to let the smoke stay in your mouth before you give it a second inhale, letting it process through your system before gently exhaling. It was a lot of fucking steps to remember.

“Don’t try to put too much emphasis into the exhalation,” he said as he watches you take another hit, almost perfecting it and with each puff and pass being deeper and longer than the previous, “see, you’re getting the hang of it!” He whimsically lifts his hand up for a high-five that you softly pat in return, but he seizes that moment to hold your hand instead, intertwining his fingers with yours.

The more you breathed in the more your body started to relax. All the edge was taken off and you felt good. You and Bucky continued to pass the blunt, smoking whatever was left of it and what he had with him, as you told random bits of information about yourselves to one another. By now, you and Bucky were leaning on each other, backs against the headboard, the TV barely audible as it continued to play a rerun of whatever that was on earlier.

“You know I really do remember you?” He says causing you to turn your head to look down at him. He has his gaze fixed on your hands, his thumb barely grazing the back of your hand. He’d been playing with your hand, drawing random shapes on it.

“That’s hard for me to believe,” you answer back truthfully.

“Why?” Bucky questions while looking up at you. He was in a slouched position, his hoodie and shirt rising up, allowing you a thin glimpse of his skin, while you sat a little higher up than him.

You admired his handsome face, the crease lines in his forehead, the faint and not so faint marks scattered all around it, his wet lips that shone when he ran his tongue over them and the stubble that surrounded it all down to his adorable nose. Then there were those blue eyes that once put you in an overawe of intimidation, were now a bit alarming in a new sense. They were swirling and growing darker.

“You meet new people every day, Bucky. There’s no way that I could’ve been that unforgettable to you.” You just couldn’t wrap your mind around that. Staring at him, you tried to read him, but you were too faded to concentrate.

“But you were,” he tells you in a low voice just before you notice his eyes shut and he leans in to place an experimenting kiss to your lips. He pulls back to quietly study your expression, and when you don’t show any sign of disapproval, he goes in for another.

This time with added pressure, more emotion, Bucky pulls you down by the back of your neck and casually slips his tongue in your mouth the moment your lips parted. Your heart started racing when you reciprocated his kiss, trying to keep up with him. He definitely liked to dominate. You could even slightly taste the blunt you both shared moments ago as his tongue tangled with yours.

He slips off his hoodie leaving him in a dark gray shirt. Navigating his body over yours, he pulls you down into a more comfortable position. He’s cradling the side of your face as your lips continue to move one another, getting hungrier and hungrier.

The movements cause your top to ride up, exposing your midriff. His hands wander down to caress your skin before you feel his fingers grip at the waistline of your jeans. You instantly grab his hand and stop him. This was moving all too fast for you.

Bucky didn’t press on it for too long and slipped his fingers out, running his hand back up your side and this time underneath what your tank top was covering left of your upper body. His hand snuck back out and started tugging at the material bunched underneath your breasts. When your top was finally discarded to reveal your red bra, he latched onto your neck, kissing up along your jawline and nipping at your ear, the sound of his harsh breathing sent a tingle at the contact and shivers through your entire body.

You winced when you suddenly felt one of his hands at the back of your head, yanking a handful of your hair causing your head to snap back. It gave him more access and you closed your eyes letting the sharp pain run its course and turn into something pleasurable as he practically devoured your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply, getting high on you, and possibly the lingering aroma of the drugs, and sucking tiny splotches onto your skin then licking to soothe them.

He pushed aside the straps of your bra as his lips travelled down your shoulder before stopping at the curve of your breasts. You briefly opened your eyes to see him fixated on your chest. He uses both hands to grope them.

“You think I didn’t notice these from the stage?” He asks now looking at you, squeezing and releasing them before pulling your bra down, your breasts spilling out of the cups. He instantly latches his mouth onto a nipple, while the other hand digs in between the mattress and your back to unclasp the bra. His tongue swirled around the nub, teeth lightly grazing and sucking at the skin around it.

You run a hand through his hair, it was a little sweaty and you couldn’t blame him. It was getting hot; you could feel the heat radiating off of him. It became even more apparent after he got rid of his shirt and you feel his clammy skin on yours.

He pulls back, straddling your waist, most of his body weight falling on his knees, careful to not to crush you. Your hands cascaded down his chest and rested at his thighs. You gave them a shy squeeze, something you’ve always dreamed of doing and you were only slightly satisfied.

Bucky flashes you another smile before he braces one hand next to your head and leans back over to fish something off the nightstand. When he pulls his other hand back you notice he’s going through something on his phone. Curious, you look at his face trying to get another read at him, but this whole night was just full of surprises. He finally looks at you before speaking.

“Can I ask you something and you promise not to freak out?”

It depends.

“Yeah…” Who were you kidding? You’d gladly get on your knees for this man. He swooped in for another hard kiss, your mind turning into mush just before you could get anything else out.

“I think it’d be so hot if we recorded ourselves,” his face was so close to yours making sure that your focus was on his and only his. He must’ve felt you shift because he allowed more of his weight to drop; he was closing in on you and it was like you almost had no chance of escape. You weren’t going to lie. The way his weight was crushing you and sinking you deeper into the bed felt really nice. You were speechless. He wanted to record a sex tape with you.

“I travel so much,” he starts listing off reasons why while still cradling the side of your face again, your hand bracing his forearm, and starts kissing your face, “it gets really lonely being on the road.” At this point, he’s probably kissed every inch, “I’d love to have this...it’d be so much easier for me to come thinking about you.”

Motherfucker. His dreamy voice speaking those words into you did one hell of a number because you were aching down there plus the way his hips dragged at your still jean-clad lower region didn’t offer much relief.

“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate for a bit. What if his phone got hacked and the footage leaked?

“It’s just for me, baby. I swear,” he asks with hopeful eyes.

Sure, you could’ve had the strength to say no, but you were more than willing to be everything he desired. With your consent, he sealed it with another wild kiss. The magnitude of it setting you ablaze.

Bucky sets his phone back on the nightstand, propping it upright, camera on front face mode to display the both of you on its screen, and at the perfect angle he hits the red record button.

It’s showtime.

He revisits the mission of removing your pants and is this time successful. If you both weren’t so faded, he’d probably have an easier time taking them off, but they were tight, and you were grateful he didn’t clumsily break your ankles in the process. Chucking them somewhere off to the side, with his fingers, he traces the top pattern of the matching red lace panties you had on.

He let out a faint chuckle commenting on how red is his favorite color. Oh, you knew. You precisely chose this set just in case you got lucky. He plants kisses to your hip bones, his lips evading the area that cried out for his attention the most, and slithered down the bed, so he had your calves now placed over his shoulders.

Bucky laid gentle pecks on them and came back up to start nipping at your inner thighs, most likely leaving his mark there also, until you felt the tip of his nose hit your center. Your panties were definitely a deeper shade of red at this point. He pushed your panties to the side enough to get started.

You feel the pads of his fingers begin to rub circular motions at your clit. The first wave causing your hips to jolt involuntarily. You feel the smirk that formed on his face against your thigh at your body’s response.

“So sensitive,” he says pushing your hips back down to continue his task at hand, “and so wet,” he added while pulling his fingers away to examine your arousal that coated his long digits. You don’t take your eyes off him and you almost forget how to breathe when you watch his lips wrap around his fingers, noting his eyes closed and how his cheekbones become more prominent on an already perfect jawline as he sucked them off clean.

When Bucky opens his eyes, they’re darker than before, clouded with lust. He roughly yanked at your panties, still in his other hand, effectively tearing the overpriced garment. After giving it a few more tugs, it was long gone. Headfirst in between your legs, Bucky craved for more of you. He licked a broad strip, down up, to your clit. His tongue teased your folds before dipping inside you, the intrusion causing you to gasp. Your body withered around desperately searching for a path to release. Bucky kept at it, his nose nudging your clit with each plunge his tongue made.

Not denying you of a finish, he adds his fingers into the mix, curling them to find that spot. Noting that your eyes had closed sometime during the act, he stills, and you whine at the sudden halt. Your hand aimlessly reaches out to his face. When you find it, you open your eyes and pick your head up to find out why he had stopped. Bucky offers one of his hands for you to hold on to before speaking.

“Baby keep your eyes on me,” he orders, and his eyes don’t leave yours as his head lowers back down to your pulsing heat. You struggle to keep your eyes open and head from lolling back in ecstasy because you desperately wanted to come. Fuck, he was so talented.

The noises as a result of his onslaught were downright sinful. Bucky’s hips started to ground into the bed trying to relieve some friction of his own. His moans tremble across your entire body. There’s no warning when you come, and you don’t even give him a chance to escape your thighs that clamp around face. Not that Bucky minded, feeling you clench around his fingers as he drank in more of what your body had to offer. Bucky only then emerges when your legs fall limp against the bed.

He plops back down next to you, but as he does so, he pulls you on top of him. Your lips reattach themselves with his and the raw nature of tasting yourself on his lips drive you both mad. He hadn’t even wiped around his face, so you feel the wetness on his chin scrape across yours, staining you with your own arousal.

Your hands moved on their own from planting themselves on his firm chest then working their way down the ripples of his abs, through the trail of hair leading to the top of the waistband of his sweats. You tauntingly pulled the drawstring to loosen it before letting it go and instead grip him through the soft material. Bucky grumbled at your actions, but let you carry on.

You palmed him, getting a feel of how thick and long he was. Bucky was growing whiny with each passing move your hand made, he took matters into his own and grabbed your hand, shoving it into his pants. Your hand instinctively wraps around his hard cock and you give it a light squeeze and a few strokes, generating long drawn out moans to spew from Bucky’s mouth.

His cock felt even better with nothing separating you two. Bucky’s pants and boxers easily slide down his muscular legs, which spread apart to give you room. You maneuver south to lie on your stomach, still in between his legs, and grab his member that was curved resting at his stomach and bring it your face.

“Wait,” he says almost breathlessly. Your mouth is only inches away from the head already weeping profusely. He sits up to rest on his elbows and retrieves his phone from the nightstand. Oh.

“Okay, smile for me,” he directs, and you follow his lead before your tongue darts out at his slit and follow the ring around the tip of his cock. You pull back to savor his taste for a moment, your hands spreading the pre-cum around his shaft. Your strokes are then accompanied by the long licks you give at the sides and to his balls that your other hand had been playing with. Bucky’s head rests on his pillow so his other hand could rest on the back of your head and guide you down his length. Your mouth immediately started to water, but it made it easier for you to bob up and down. He let you move at your own pace for the most part. Bucky pushed your hair off to the side, away from your face to get a better view of the outline of his cock poking at the inside of your mouth. You let his cock drag across the inside of your cheeks a few times until it audibly popped out of your mouth.

“Fuck me. I knew you’d be perfect.” His words mixed with his incessant moans were like honey pouring into your ears. He loved the way your eyes looked directly at him through the camera lens when you come up with a long tantalizing lick to the underside of his cock and crawling back up to straddle him.

Bucky gets a good shot of your flushed face and breasts that had some of your drool combined with his pre-cum running down your body before dropping his phone beside him. He sits up causing you to fall back down at the other end of the bed. He picks out a condom from the nightstand and you watch as it rolls down the length of his cock. You bite your lip watching it twitch.

He’s on his knees, but sitting on the balls of his feet, you are lying down patiently waiting for him. He swipes his cock through the wetness of your pussy, prepping himself to slide in. He’s watching your reaction with each pass his dick makes. Your body is yearning for him to be inside of you, to hit that fucking spot over and over.

Just when you think he’s about to do it, he’s reaching over for that damn phone again. Out of habit, you cover your face with your hands. Not only showing the last shred of humility you had left, but also because you probably looked like a fucking bitch in heat.

Bucky pulls your hands away, he still has the phone in his hands, and he’s got it angled to playback from his point of view before he finally pushes into you. He’s big, much bigger than what you’ve experienced, you think you need a moment to adjust, but he never gives you that opportunity and you find that it doesn’t matter when he feels so good. Too good that you find it hard to breathe with each thrust he’s making because he’s hitting it so deep. You push your hands out in front of you to his lower abdomen and attempt to slow him down. Bucky shakes his head and knocks your hands out of the way.

You let out an abrupt yelp at his retaliation to your failed efforts in trying to stop him with a particularly harder and much forceful thrust. Instead, your hands grab fistfuls of the hotel bed’s white blankets and just let him have his way.

“So beautiful,” he says spreading you further then coming down on you to reclaim your lips with his. He rips your hands from their tight grips on the bed sheets to pin them down next to the sides of your head. You don’t care where his phone went, just happy to have both his hands on you. The skin-to-skin contact just hit different sometimes.

The kisses become so feral you start to feel a burn around your mouth from his stubble. Bucky rolls his hips into yours deliciously, a damn true artist, the rhythm he’s got going sends you just about over but never fully beyond the edge to prolong the climax.

Much to your dismay, Bucky withdraws away from you again, back into his previous position, a new idea popping into his wicked mind. With his hard cock still inside you, he slides his hands under your hips and hoists your lower half up towards him, resting your ass on his thighs, effectively bottoming out. You don’t hold back at the way that made you feel and let out an embarrassingly loud moan. He holds still for a second and you’re not quite sure why. You try to move by wiggling your hips, but he holds you still.

He’s staring at how close your bodies are, connected, he moves just the slightest. It causes your pussy to contract and your stomach to tighten up. He does it again in different intervals, his eyes surveying the entire thing. The next push is a little harder and when you see the devious smile breakthrough his face, he does it even more. The thrusts are much sharper and almost painful, but it quickly subsides when you feel the head of his cock probe at the right spot.

Bucky lifts your hips up higher, your back arching in bridge fashion you weren’t aware you could even do until he resumes his new pattern of thrusts again. This new position aided his cock in hitting your sweet spot a little better. He’s filming you again and resting one of his palms on your stomach. He’s not only watching, but he’s feeling the bulge in your belly from the distension caused by the jabs of his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, continuing to pound into you, “you take this cock so well.” The sight boosts Bucky’s ego and for you it actually probably wasn’t a good thing, but you’d be damned the angle did so many wonders to you right now.

“You love watching your cock go deeper and deeper inside me, Bucky?” You ask trying to look up at him from that position. Where did that come from? Your words cause him to freeze momentarily, but you could still feel his cock throbbing inside of you. He liked that.

Another impish thought running through his head, Bucky pulls out, picking you up so you’re also knee-height with him, giving you another searing kiss, then he’s behind you. He gently pushes you down, you on your elbows, Bucky leans over behind you, his soaked cock sliding up your ass resting on the small of your back as he places his phone back on the nightstand in the same position it had been in the beginning.

You don’t dare look at the screen in front of you, so you look down until you feel Bucky enter your pussy once more from behind. Your head rises and it wasn’t due to the surging pleasure, but because Bucky uses your hair as a rope to bring your body upright with his.

He thrusts up into you while he mutters incoherent slurs and lewd noises into your ear. He peppers the side of your face with wet and uncalculated kisses, his hands massaging your breasts before one of them migrates down to cup your pussy. His fingers dip in and starts another assault to your clit. You’re already tethering off the edge and on the brink of succumbing to him, but he just knew when to let up and keep you starved for more.

“Look at you,” he says, using his other hand to turn your head to face the small screen, the numbers continuing to go up. “You’re such a fucking slut for my cock,” you don’t argue with him and instead moan his name. “You like watching yourself fuck this huge cock, don’t you?” You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore; watching the two of you was hot. Your uncontrollable moans now muffled into Bucky’s palm. And he just kept egging you on, “I know I do. It’s gonna remind me just how tight this fucking pussy is.” Damn him.

“You want to come, baby?” He asks, the speed of his fingers picking up a notch.

You pull down Bucky’s hand to respond, “Mmm, yes. Fuck! Please let me come, Bucky,” you don’t know what has possessed you, but it spurs the both of you on even more. Your next words do it for Bucky, “I want to come all over your cock,” and he’s immediately coming and spilling into the condom, still inside you, you feel his release pump through him. He’s biting your shoulder, some of his weight coming down on you, his thrusts becoming erratic, but one did the trick for you and you finally let go.

And what drives Bucky even more wild, is that you don’t stop. You keep rolling your hips into him, riding it all the way out. Bucky’s trying to hold on, with a bruising grip on your waist, his forehead resting on your back; the aftershock of his release proving too much. Your release pours out freely, you feel some of it slide down the inside of your thighs mixed with sweat.

You sag against Bucky, each of your body weight balancing against the other. You feel him scatter lazy kisses up your back and pull your face towards him to press one against your lips, moaning in satisfaction. He slowly pulls out of you with a low groan, your body feeling numb when you fall forward to lie down on the bed. Bucky discards of the condom and shuts his phone off before settling next to you.

He pushes the hair out of your face, and you, facedown, peek an eye open. He has a more than content look on his face, you notice his eyes were back to their normal color. He allows some time to pass for you both to calm down. Sleep wants to overcome your body, but it doesn’t when Bucky’s touch puts you on notice again. He runs his hand up and down your back. He’s insatiable, but he didn’t anticipate your comeback in the end and put him in a daze. He could get addicted to you.

“Is it weird if I fly you out to Brooklyn?” He said out of nowhere. Brooklyn was thousands of miles away from where you lived. He wanted to pay your way to see him again. It was such an outlandish request. You’re starting to regain a more balanced sense of perception and thought, and you ponder on this for a few seconds. “Never mind. You think it’s weird,” he says lifting the blanket over his head turning his back to you. You could tell he was just trying to be cute.

“Oh, come on! You caught me off guard. You can’t blame me!” You respond, but he doesn’t budge. You muster up enough strength to sit up to lean over the side of his body, resting your chin on the top of his shoulder, and try to grab at the blanket. You pull it over his head and see the lazy smile etched across his pretty face. All you do is return the smile and close your eyes, basking in the post-coital bliss.

“Stay for the night,” came as his last request and turning to lie on his back, wrapping his arms around you.

You don’t think about your car, that’s still parked nearby or care if the parking rate is probably going up by the hour and start eating at your bank account. You don’t think about how pissed your friend would be when she wakes up in the morning and you’re still not back in time. You just think about how tomorrow he’d be far away. You scoot up to give him one more kiss before laying your head to rest on him and make the best out of the present. Happy that you went with your gut on this one.

A/N: This could flop. At first, it was easy to write, but then the ending tripped me up. & while I have your attention, please let me know, anonymously or not, if there’s an interest in a Chase Collins fic? Charles Blackwood smut, anyone? Anyway, I hope this delivered! Thanks for reading!

#mrwinterr writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #marvel fic #rockstar!bucky barnes #rockstar!bucky #rockstar!au #happy

681 notes · View notes

nalu4emily · 4 years ago

Text

The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 15

Summary: Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Nalu/cute/fluff/multi-chapter.

The moon had come out to play by the time the Heartfilia girl finally stirred from her slumber. Casting shadows across the bed she found herself in, she carefully sat herself up and promptly took in the familiar sight of her bedroom. Goosebumps scattered across her skin as the covers fell from her shoulders. Catching a glimpse of herself, she noticed her clothes were not the same borrowed items she'd worn previously, but a slinky night top instead, one that barely covered much of her midriff and a pair of butt-hungry underwear.

Adjusting to the dim glow peering in through the large window, her eyes pored over the room in hope her memories might return should she find what she was searching for, not that she knew what that was, of course. There was something—something important—she knew, but what? It was right there, staring her blankly in the face, so close she could almost touch it…

"Haru!" She yelled, eyes widening when the events of the previous day came flooding back.

In a blind panic, she scrambled to get herself out of the bed, battling with the covers that didn't seem to want to let go. Cursing at them in her haste, she attempted to swing them off of her and felt the frustration rise when she'd accomplished nothing more than nearly tumble out of the bed. Luckily, a single warm hand reached from behind and grabbed her around the wrist, guiding her back onto the mattress just as she was about to face-plant the floor.

"Lucy, what're you doing? You'll wake everyone up with the noise you're making." Natsu's gravelly voice reached her ears from behind.

Turning around, she noted that he had also just woken up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning loudly. She stared long and hard at him, like she was searching for answers to questions of which she'd not asked yet.

"Natsu…" Tilting her head in confusion, she hadn't even noticed him there. "Where's Haru? Is he okay?"

"He's doing just fine; warm and comfy last time I checked." Natsu grinned, trying to ease the worry that was clear in her expression. "Why don't ya come lay down with me? Then you'll be warm and comfy too!"

"But, I-I…" She hesitantly pulled away from the fire mage, who'd been gently coaxing her back into bed, and walked over to the bedroom door. "I need to peek in on him and see for myself, or I'll never get back to sleep."

Truth be told, when she cracked open his bedroom door, little Haru was fast asleep. A milk bottle still hung from his mouth and a little milky drool had trickled onto the mattress. Lucy stood by his crib side for a moment, drinking in the sight of her son sleeping so peacefully after his ordeal. Smoothing a few wispy black strands away from his eyes, she smiled, relief over taking all sense of dread that had reeked havoc on her and relaxed a little.

Yawning herself, Lucy left the baby's room to return to her own, slipping down under the plush covers. A calmness washed over her, allowing sleep to pull her back in. Her peaceful disposition was quickly ruined when she felt a ruffling of the covers. Her eyes pinged open when two very strong arms came to wrap around her middle and draw her into a muscular torso, one she all but melted into.

"See, I told ya he was fine. You worry too much." The fire mage spoke into her hair, smirking as he nuzzled his head against the top of Lucy's.

"It's not that I didn't believe you; I just needed to see for myself and you were right. He is fine—more than fine—he's perfect!" She confirmed, snuggling into Natsu's firm hold, eyes level with his collar bone. "That was some incredible power he dispelled though, don't you think? It was enormous! I definitely wasn't expecting that!"

"You're telling me, it was awesome! He's gonna be so much fun to spar with when he gets older; I can teach him all kinds of cool stuff!" Natsu beamed in his enthusiasm, already making plans for the little boy.

"You want to teach him your magic? But I thought it was too dangerous? If it weren't for Igneel and his plan, you and the others would have dragonized by now." The blonde pointed out, wondering if the man next to her had thought about the consequences of his magic type.

"Yeah, so? He doesn't have to be a dragon slayer to learn fire magic."

"O-Oh… right. Well, what if he doesn't want to learn fire magic? What if he wants to be a celestial mage, like me?" She asked uncertainly, half expecting him to scoff at the idea.

"Then he'll learn celestial magic… duh! Honestly, Luce, I thought you were the smart one here?" Natsu smirked and Lucy simply rolled her eyes back at him, secretly impressed by his answer.

"What about ice-make magic?" She suggested oh-so innocently, grinning to herself as she heard the displeased growl emanate from Natsu's chest.

"Okay, now you're pushing it…"

Lucy chortled, in turn making Natsu do the same. They turned to each other, moss green peered down whilst chocolate brown gazed up, grinning like idiots no less—like best friends did—just the two of them for the first time since the fire mage had returned from his mission.

Lucy was so contented to have him back in her arms again. The same old dragon slayer that brought joy wherever he went and to whomever he met. A truly pure-natured and beautiful person was he, inside and out, that she really didn't know where her life would be without him.

"I've missed you, Natsu, and I'm so glad you're home now, everything feels normal again." She leaned up to gently caress his cheek with her thumb and felt him move closer, his breath now fanning softly against her mouth.

"I've missed you too, Luce, but I thought about ya everyday!" He gently placed his forehead on hers and relished in her wondrous scent, allowing it to seep into his pores and overtake his senses. "That job was such a drag without you there, it's just not the same."

"At least you had Happy to keep you company. How did it go anyway? I never did get to ask you." She asked, feeling guilty for being so distracted at the time.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't either." He shrugged nonchalantly, obviously not interested in talking about it.

"Oh… Like that, huh? My little wake up call was well received then?" The girl smirked, flicking her nose against his.

Hearing his chuckle rumble through his chest sent a shiver down Lucy's spine. She had certainly stirred something within him. The hunger evident from the way he licked his lips. His tongue glided from one curved corner to the other so fluidly, so intentionally, that he appeared almost predatory. With his face so tantalisingly close, she felt her breath mingle with his. The slight quirk of his lips formed into a knowing smirk once she'd surrendered under his fiery gaze.

Pushing forwards, the lustful dragon welded their lips together, pouring three weeks of needy desire into her mouth for her to swallow down. Lapping it up desperately, a tingle ran from her lips straight down to the heated area between her legs, eliciting a small hum from the pleasant sensation.

He flicked and swirled his tongue across hers, reminding her of all the times he'd done that exact action in other, more intimate places to bring her to the brink of ecstasy. The very thought had her clenching her thighs together to calm the arousal that was surely building. But, she had to pull away all too soon, stifling a yawn that'd rudely interrupted them.

"Oops, sorry!" She heard him snigger this time, clearly amused by her body's impeccably shit timing. "What a way to ruin the mood…"

"Nah, you could never do that." He murmured close to her mouth, looking her dead in the eyes as he spoke so huskily. "I'm always in the mood to fuck you."

Nearly choking on her own spit, she hadn't expected him to be so crude. "Natsu…" She blushed, giving him exactly the reaction he wanted. "You're so dirty! It's a shame I'm too tired to teach you a lesson."

"Is that so?" He smirked, grazing his mouth along her jawline, planting open mouthed kisses all the way along it. "Maybe I need to try a little harder then…" The young man whispered into her ear as he sucked on her lobe, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "Call it, returning the favour."

Using his teeth to nip at her sensitive neck, he deployed his hand to graze languidly down towards her ample chest, lightly brushing over her nipple peeking through the fabric of her top on its journey towards her panties.

"A-And where does your hand think it's going?" She gasped, a vault of electricity shooting down to her groin as he tweaked the erect nipple once more.

"For a little wander…"

His hand delved under her chest and lightly brushed along her curves. Upon settling between her hips, it had one final hurdle to overcome—her panties. He pushed the heel of his palm down into her lower tummy to tuck his fingers inside and slide them deep below the lacy material.

Lucy's eyes flew wide open the moment his heel dug too deeply and unexpectedly shot upright, gasping loudly. Clutching hold of her belly with both hands she looked down at it in shock; a moan of discomfort passed her lips as she felt a wave of nausea hit her straight in the gut.

Her stomach had felt fine not a few moments ago, but now it was twisting and churning unpleasantly. With gritted teeth, she winced, clenching her hands tighter around the tender area in the hopes it might pass.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Natsu asked surprised, sitting up with her to have a closer look. He noticed instantly that her expression was pained and distorted. Her fingers gripped at the hem of her top and seemed to tighten every time her face winced. Was she in pain? Did he hurt her somehow? He didn't remember doing anything to cause such discomfort. "Did I hurt you, Luce?"

"I-It's not yo-" The poor girl covered her mouth with a slight groan, feeling something other than words about to spew out of it.

Natsu placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling her skin begin to warm and moisten under his touch. Honestly, he wasn't all that sure what was wrong or what he could do to help, except to try and offer some sort of comfort. About to ask what he could do for her, the blonde groaned much louder this time and hurried off of the bed, using her legs to push off of it like a slingshot and catapulted out of the door.

"Lucy?!" Natsu exclaimed more urgently, moving quickly to follow after her.

Before he could even reach the bathroom door, the offensive sound of his partner throwing chunks showered his ears. In all the years he'd known Lucy, she'd rarely got sick and he'd very rarely seen her vomit, so this was a new one for him. Unease and, dare he say it, curiosity filled him as he made his way to the bathroom, not fully prepared for the sight that greeted him. The poor blonde was kneeling on the floor, her hunched form hugging the toilet bowl with vomit coating the bottom of it.

Taking the initiative, he knelt down behind her and gathered her hair away from the danger zone. Applying a light pressure, he placed a warm hand on her back and rubbed it in small circles, just like she did for him when he had motion sickness. She continued to puke until there was nothing more to bring up, retching and heaving instead until her ribs and stomach began to ache.

"Ugh! This is so gross… I'm sure this isn't what you meant by repay the favour." Lucy chuckled lightly whilst panting, earning a small half smile from the fire mage.

No, it most definitely wasn't… He'd seen their night going very differently. Not a few minutes ago he had been complete horn dog, now that couldn't be further from the truth.

She leaned herself against Natsu's upper body and placed the back of her sweaty head on his shoulder. Inhaling rapid, shallow breaths through her dry mouth, she closed her strained, watery eyes, knowing the nausea wasn't quite through with her yet.

"Did you eat something funny or what? You don't just throw up like that for no reason." The disconcerted man asked, dragging the clumped, blonde bangs away from her clammy forehead. He was trying to work out just what the heck could be wrong with his sickly girlfriend and what, if anything, they could do to cure it. "Are you in pain, Luce?"

"A-A little… My head is pounding, but it's my stomach that hurts the most. I don't think I've eaten-" The thought of food in that moment twisted her stomach in knots, enough to land her head back in the bowl.

"It's alright, Luce, I gotcha." He quickly gathered her hair again and began running his fingers through the ends, trying to bring her some comfort at least.

She could only describe her stomach pains as something similar to period cramping, but instead of bleeding, it was accompanied by the need to force more and more bile out of her system. With barely enough time to catch her breath in between heaves, her chest had grown tight and heavy causing even more discomfort than before.

The stellar mage didn't know how long she'd spent vomiting in the end; after what'd felt like hours, the nausea finally subsided. A sense of euphoria came over her when she could finally breathe again and Natsu, ever so gently, pulled her back into his chest.

"My chest is so sore!" Hands clasped between her breasts, gulping down as she fought to fill her lungs with needed air.

"I know, you've been at it for a while, Lucy. Do you think you're okay to come back to bed? Some sleep will do you good." She nodded and went to stand. Natsu jumped to his feet first and reached a hand out to carefully bring her up onto unsteady legs. "Take it easy there Luce, you don't wanna make yourself hurl again."

Smiling appreciatively, Lucy grabbed a wash cloth from beside the sink and soaked it with cold water to cool her skin, washing the sweat off in the process. She brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the nasty taste that lingered there. Once she felt a little fresher, she straightened herself out and took one last glance in the mirror.

"Do I look different to you?" She asked curiously, staring down at her exposed abdomen, not sure if it was just her eyes playing tricks on her.

"Obviously…" Natsu answered, watching Lucy whip her head around to glare at him, giving him scary Erza vibes. "You're all sicky; you're not gonna look normal after all that!" Then she relaxed again, thankful for Natsu's obliviousness to such matters. "Do you need me to get you anything? Water? A bucket?" He sniggered at the last suggestion, earning a playful smack to the arm by an amused but overly exerted blonde.

"Water would be great, thanks." He was gone in a flash.

With an exaggerated yawn and stretch, her jelly-like legs traipsed back to their bedroom. Perching herself on the edge of the bed, Lucy leaned her head down at her sensitive stomach and stared at it curiously, grazing her hands ever so gently over it to test how far she could push without feeling sick again.

She didn't understand what was wrong with her; why was she so sick? Could it have been something that she'd eaten? Or maybe she'd caught a stomach bug? Whatever it was, it seemed to come in bouts and was made worse when she felt tired or drained, like when she'd used her magic. She'd never felt so sick in her life, the odd cold here and there but that was about it.

In general, Lucy felt that she was pretty healthy, she ate well, looked after her body, stayed well hydrated, so to be struck with an unknown sickness like this had knocked her for six, that was for sure.

"Here ya go, Luce." Natsu said, walking into the room. He passed her the water and watched her swig it down in one. "You must've been thirsty! Are you feeling alright now?"

"I don't really know. It's my stomach; it feels… weird, I guess?" Lucy steadily reached over to place the empty glass down on the bedside, careful not to make any sudden movements that might land her back in the bathroom.

"Hmm… You mean like you can't touch it?" Natsu asked, not really understanding what 'weird' meant in this context but took the initiative to go off what he felt like after vomiting.

"Yeah, kinda. Every time I do, I feel sick again. It's super sensitive right now." She sighed dejectedly and let her head fall lazily onto the pillow, bringing her legs up to get comfortable while Natsu got in beside her. "I hope this feeling goes away soon. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning after some sleep?"

"Maybe. But if you don't, I'll look after ya, so you ain't gotta worry." He said, planting a small peck on her cheek and then turning her face with his fingers to place a longer, more loving kiss on her lips. "G'night, Luce."

"Thanks, Natsu, good night." She felt the warmth from his body envelope hers, comforting her sore muscles as his hand laid carefully on her hip and stroked the exposed skin there, relaxing under his touch.

The young slayer waited for her to fall asleep before relaxing completely, exhaling a large sigh as he took in the events of the previous day. He really did hope that Lucy wasn't coming down with some nasty bug, that's all she needed after dealing with Haru being so poorly. If Natsu was being completely honest with himself, he wasn't sure what to think. From what he'd seen so far, he was sceptical to say the least; was this some unknown ailment? Or something else entirely? He didn't know.

Sure she felt nauseous; was vomiting; complained of headaches and fatigue; which were all indications of illness—he knew that. However, something just felt different about her symptoms compared to other times he'd seen her under the weather, the boy just couldn't figure out what.

Lucy had told him she'd spent the better part of the past week awake all day and night feeling stressed about Haru, which would tire anyone out. He deduced that that might explain her fatigue and headaches, but the nausea and vomiting—that he couldn't explain. Not to mention her sensitive stomach and the cramping. Nor could he decipher why she'd struggled so much when using her magic; a bug wouldn't usually interfere with that.

He was no expert on these sorts of matters, hell, it was rare the hot head ever found himself unwell in the first place, so really, what would he know?

But there was an inkling. A hunch you might say or conception, ironically. In the deep recesses of his boggled, clueless mind, he knew he'd come across this sort of thing before. Not all that often but around town, on jobs, even in the guild hall he'd heard mutterings between fellow members and guild mates alike, he'd just never taken the time to care before now.

Now he kinda wished he had…

With his lack of knowledge, Natsu had no idea what his suspicions meant and whether he was actually on to something or just barking up the wrong tree. His brain, unable to make any sense of it, was beginning to hurt from all of the over thinking he was doing and decided to dismiss the idea completely.

Nestling his head into the back of Lucy's hair, he inhaled deeply, her floral scent invading his nostrils and allowed the tiredness to overcome him. Closing his eyes, the slight pang of disappointment didn't go completely unnoticed before he drifted off to sleep.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay while I'm gone?" Natsu asked outside the bathroom door, not overly pleased that Lucy had locked him out. Hearing more vomit hit the pan, he cringed and wondered how much longer she was going to be. "Because I don't wanna leave you like this…" He heard the flush go and the water run, then finally the lock on the door clicked and it swung open, revealing a ghostly pale and zombie(ish) looking Lucy, "Luce, you're looking awful!"

"Thanks, Natsu, always the charmer…" She croaked out, throat sore from throwing up her breakfast. She'd been in and out of the bathroom all morning, puking her guts up, looking more and more, as Happy put it, like death warmed up. "I was kinda hoping I'd feel better today, but I just feel like shit…"

"Maybe you just need some more rest? I could always ask Wendy over?" He suggested, forgetting the young girl had left for a mission that morning. "Oh, actually forget that, what about Porlyusica instead?"

"No, please not her! I think she saw enough of us yesterday and I really don't feel like being shouted at today, my head can't take it." That woman could be frightening at the best of times, it was better to avoid her unless absolutely necessary.

"But Luce, you've been in the bathroom all morning, you gotta see someone about it!" Natsu tried to make her see reason, he didn't want to see her sick any more than she wanted to be sick, but Lucy was stubborn.

"I'll wait for Wendy to heal me; I'm sure I can manage until she comes home."

If Lucy was going to have anyone help, she wanted it from Wendy. The sweet, young dragon slayer was always eager to assist anyone and far from being intimidating or dismissive, unlike the old dragon woman. No matter how well versed Porlyusica was in magical ailments and medicines, particularly potions, she had a hot temper and a dislike for humans, so it was best to take her in small doses.

"You never know, I might feel better by then." Lucy smiled at the fire mage in a weak attempt at easing his worry.

"If you say so, Luce." Realising he wasn't getting anywhere, Natsu sighed. He'd have to figure out another way to help her instead.

Once back in the living room, Lucy slumped onto the couch and smiled at the little one playing on the floor with Happy. The sight of Haru finally acting like his usual self again was enough to brighten her up a bit. He'd been perfect all morning—happy, playful and cheeky, just the way she liked him.

"Hey, Lucy, this'll cheer you up!" Happy gestured to the baby, catching both Lucy and Natsu's attention. "Right Haru, just like we practised, say, Mama!"

Haru looked over to Natsu, who was smiling encouragingly at him, and then to Lucy, who was waiting patiently. It was the one word, he'd been reluctant to say since he'd started trying to speak, but Lucy could hope.

"Mama. Go on, you said it earlier." The cat encouraged.

"He did?" Lucy asked, surprised to learn that she'd missed it.

"He sure did!"

The baby looked apprehensive, sucking on his fingers, it seemed he needed a little extra push now that there was an audience. Happy flew over to Lucy and pointed at her, repeating the word again.

With a smile forming on his face, Haru crawled over to Lucy's feet and yelled at the top of his voice, "Mama!" whilst attempting to clamber up onto her lap.

"Yay! You clever boy, you finally said Mama!" Lucy beamed, picking the little one up and supporting him to stand on her lap.

"Good job, little guy!" Natsu grinned, coming to lean over the couch where Lucy was sitting and pretended to high five the baby. "Next we gotta get you saying Happy."

"Yeah, then fish, then fishing, then yummy fish-"

"Naturally…" Lucy hummed sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the cat.

"Anyway, I think we better head off. What do ya say fella?" Natsu said, picking the small boy up from his mother and placing him on his hip. "I think this little guy can come with me to the guild. It'll give you time to rest and me some time to catch up with him."

"Oh, er… okay." She smiled, liking the sound of having a few hours to herself. "That'd be nice."

The young man smiled down at the pale girl and kissed her cheek, gesturing for Happy to follow him as he walked over and opened the front door. "Catch ya later, Luce!" And off he went, locking the door behind him, leaving the blonde in peace.

"Is Lucy gonna be okay on her own?" Happy asked, flying along beside the dragon slayer. "She's really not looking too good."

"She'll be fine, she just needs some rest, that's all. If she needs me, I'm sure Loke will sense it and come looking for me. Lucy's a tough one; she don't need us pandering to her and getting in the way." He dismissed it knowing fully that Lucy's 'sickness' didn't seem to be as simple as that, but alas, this was the best he could do for now.

The journey to the guild was a pleasant one as they strolled leisurely through the busy streets of Magnolia. Entering the bustling main hall, Natsu quickly slipped passed the unknowing mages drinking away at the bar, not wanting to be cornered by one of them, and made his way to the back room where Master Makarov was waiting for him. The old man had asked to see him about something and the fire mage hoped it wasn't about the destruction Haru had left yesterday. Without knocking, the boy with the baby and flying cat walked in, announcing his presence with a bright smile.

"Natsu, there you are! I didn't think you were gonna show." The short man perched himself on the table and gestured for Natsu to sit amongst the piles of papers that made up the man's office. "How's the little one today? I heard he's had a rough time of it recently?"

"Yeah, but he seems back to normal now. Don't ya, bud?" Natsu grinned at Haru, who'd been eyeing the old man's beard since they'd entered the room. The little boy grinned back and began repeating sounds like 'da' and 'ba' as if he were joining in on the conversation.

"Good, I heard about what happened. Magnolia's Mayor has been here all morning giving me an earful about some woodland that had been… decimated, I think he said. You wouldn't know anything about that now, would you, Natsu?" The old man stared at the young man, his brow and lip raised simultaneously whilst waiting for an answer.

"Well, Natsu?" Happy teased, revelling in the slayers fluster, finding it rather funny and in turn making Haru chuckle too.

"Er… I-I don't know what you're talking about… M-Must've been some one else?" Natsu's voice raised in octaves and he began to sweat profusely, not sure what hell awaited him for what his son had done. Was this now going to become a regular occurrence?

"That's what I thought." The Master said, smiling knowingly, a chuckle passing his lips at the state the fire mage was getting himself into and decided that was punishment enough for now. "However, I did mention that should it have been a Fairy Tail mage responsible, I would personally see to it so that it doesn't happen again."

"R-Right… Sure, Gramps." Natsu stuttered, thankful he wasn't going to suffer the consequences because little Haru had destroyed the woodland. It suddenly dawned on the poor dragon slayer that this was, in fact, almost definitely going to become a regular occurrence, he could just feel it in his bones.

The baby, not knowing the trouble he'd caused, had been too focused on the Masters facial hair and was reaching his chubby little hands out to touch it, but with no one paying him any attention, he did the only thing he knew would work—whine. It was a quiet little noise but enough to catch his father's ears.

"What's the matter, little buddy? Whatcha tryin' to reach for?" Natsu asked, following the baby's line of sight, landing on the old man's face. Furrowing his brows, the slayer looked back at the small boy, "You want Gramps' hat? Alright, kiddo."

The fire mage plucked the hat off of the old man's head, much to Makarov's annoyance, and gave it to the ten month old. Although not what he'd originally wanted, Haru settled for the strange item in his hands, sticking the material straight in his mouth and began to suck it, effectively stopping his whimpers.

"You know I expect that returned, without infant dribble on it?" Makarov stared at the clueless dragon slayer and sighed; who was he kidding? He was never going to see that hat again now that Haru had claimed it. "Oh, and before you head off, Natsu, there was another reason for calling you in here. A job has come through asking for you personally again. You're quite popular it seems." The Master gave him the request paper, watching the fire mages eyes light up with excitement.

"Awesome! This one better be cooler than the last one!" Natsu read through it quickly. It appeared to be the typical 'unknown monster raiding my garden, need help!' sort of request, a stupidly easy one by the looks of it. Reaching the bottom of the paper he saw in big bold writing: the reward. A figure so great, his eyes nearly flew out of his skull.

"Whoa! They're offering that much?" Happy exclaimed, not even knowing what to call a number with that many zero's at the end of it.

"Yes, they are willing to pay that much at the request that it is you, Natsu, that attends. Obviously you don't have to go alone, you can take whoever you want with you."

"Wait 'til I show Lucy the reward, she's gonna be so pumped! That money would last us forever!" He exclaimed, beaming with excitement, wanting to run home and show it to her right away.

Then like a ton of bricks hitting him all at once, he remembered.

Lucy…

As if reading his mind, Happy was the first to speak, "But, Lucy, she's not-" He whispered.

"Yeah, I know, Happy." He looked up from the paper and without any hesitation went to hand it back to the Master, a serious face replacing his excited one. "Sorry, Gramps, but I can't do it this time."

"That's not like you, my boy, is something up?" The bearded man asked, concerned for the fire mage. "What's this about Lucy? You can take her if you want, it's up to you."

"No, I don't think I can, Gramps. She's really sick at the moment and I don't know why." Natsu said sombrely, mindlessly stroking the infants back as his eyes faced the floor.

More time away from her and Haru was definitely not something he would consider; who knows how long this job would take? Taking her with him could've been an option if she'd felt up to it, but with her magic being all weird, he wasn't willing to take the risk.

"Yeah, she's been spewing her guts all morning and yesterday she could barely summon any magic without it tiring her out. What kind of illness does that?" Happy blurted out without thinking.

"Is that right? Have you spoken to Porlyusica about it yet?" Makarov asked.

"No… Lucy told me not to…" Natsu sighed, not knowing who else to turn to. "She said she'd wait until Wendy returned, but who knows when that'll be?"

"It'll be about a week before that happens. There are other doctors she could see in the town, but if it's affecting her magic then I doubt they'll be of much use. The only other option is you go to Porlyusica and ask her yourself, Lucy doesn't have to know you've been." Makarov could see it was getting the fire mage down; he'd always been fiercely protective of his friends and particularly Lucy. He absolutely loathed it when he couldn't make her feel better. "I'm sure it'll work itself out, my boy, Lucy's strong enough to get through it, whatever it is."

"Yeah, Natsu! Lucy's beaten worse than some sickness bug before, she'll be fine!" Happy chirped in, his eager expression popping up in front of Natsu's.

"Your right, come on then Happy, let's go. See ya, Gramps." Natsu feigned a smile for the old man and left the room, his lips dropping into a frown the moment the door slammed shut.

It wasn't that he didn't believe them, he knew Lucy could cope, that wasn't the problem. His issue with it all was that it didn't seem to be acting like any ordinary ailment. It affected things that it shouldn't and that made him feel even more incompetent than he already did, but worse than all of that, he felt helpless.

The dragon slayer was desperate to get some answers to what was wrong with his pretty blonde and there was only one way he knew he could do that. If he went to the old woman healer to ask for advise, that would go directly against Lucy's wishes; but on the other hand, could he really sit around and watch her suffer the way she had been?

If she would just let him ask for her like Gramps had suggested, she'd be better in no time. They'd even be able to go on that job together, he knew how Lucy was with money and that was one hell of a reward he'd just passed up.

All this crap was doing his head in, he needed some fresh air, some time alone to think things through before he made any rash decisions. Happy had wanted to stay behind at the guild. Glad the cat could see he needed space, Natsu headed out of the door, ignoring his guild mates shout out to him, they were but a buzzing sound amidst the chaos in his brain. Not up to explaining it all to them, he continued forward, legs guiding him towards the park.

It'd been hours, well, it'd felt like hours since he'd been sat there, in the same spot, entertaining the little one who was playing in the grass. Haru had a way of making everything bright in the dullest of moments. His little face was so cute and his smile so happy, it was hard not to mirror. Seeing the world through the infants eyes was both refreshing and simple, with everything so new and exciting, Natsu found himself getting excited for him. But that usual happy, contented feeling had been duly quashed by everything else on his mind and it was starting to irritate him.

"Whatcha got there? A stick? If that's really what ya wanna play with then go for it, buddy." Natsu chuckled, watching Haru try to pick up a stick twice the size of him was a sight to behold, settling for munching on it instead, spurring Natsu into 'daddy mode'. "I wouldn't go eating that if I were you! That's gotta taste nasty and Mama's not gonna like it if she finds you with splinters in your mouth. Let's chuck it away and find something else to play with, how does that sound?" Natsu took the stick out of the baby's mouth and coaxed it out of his hold. Launching it in a random direction, he'd failed to notice the horror-stricken expression on Haru's face.

It began with a whimper, with his bottom lip jutted out and quivering, a full on wail came next, piercing the poor slayers ears, shocking him and making him wince. "Hey, no, don't cry! Daddy didn't mean to throw your stick away, er…" Struggling to find something to replace it, Natsu whipped his head in every direction, finally settling on giving his scarf.. "Here ya go, that's much better. You can suck on that as much as you want."

"Huh… So you do know how to parent, who'd have thought?" A low male voice mocked from above. Glancing up, Natsu saw none other than the ice-make mage himself standing there, half naked as always, smirking down at him.

"Well, duh! That's because I am one!" Natsu rolled his eyes like Gray was the stupid one.

Huffing at his friends idiocy, Gray ignored him and sat down, greeting little Haru with a smile and a wave. "You're looking much better now little guy, everyone was worried about you yesterday!" Ruffling the baby's thick hair, the young man chuckled, in turn, receiving incoherent babbles back. "Although you on the other hand…" He turned to Natsu, "What're you doing out here by yourself? It ain't like you to want peace and quiet."

"What's that supposed to mean? I like it every now and then; there's nothing weird about that." Natsu had avoided eye contact with the raven haired mage since he'd sat down. He knew he was acting odd, but he just couldn't help it.

"When it comes to you, Flame brain, it's very weird. And you didn't answer my question." Gray knew something was up, regardless of how often they fought, they were very in tune with one another, some would say in a brotherly capacity. "If you're not gonna tell me, I could always guess? And from where I'm standing, it looks like something to do with Lucy, am I right?"

Natsu tsked, pretending not to be impressed by the half-naked man's insightfulness. Gray waited patiently for an answer, a smirk ever present on his face. But he received nothing from the suspiciously quiet Natsu, which, in itself, was his answer. "Right, so it's about Lucy, that's obvious. Did she finally kick you out?"

"What? No, why would she do that?" Confused, the pink haired man turned to his rival and knitted his brows together.

"Alright, well, I thought maybe she'd come to her senses, ya know." Gray cocked his brow up teasingly as he took great enjoyment in seeing the annoyance rise within the fiery tempered slayer. "Well, if it isn't that, then… huh… I got nothing… Just tell me why you're here, Natsu?"

"Well, why're you here, Snowflake? You don't have to be; you could always go bother someone else." Natsu bit back, not wanting this sort of interrogation and especially not from Gray Fullbuster, of all people.

"I could, but they're not as fun to annoy and I have my own reasons for wanting to see you."

The ice mage leaned forward to grab Haru and hold him in his lap, doing that funny baby talk thing and laughing when the infant responded. Natsu watched their small exchange, confused that Gray actually wanted to see him about something other than brawling. Intrigued, he waited for the topless man to start speaking.

"I actually came here to, er… well, apologise for something." He stuttered, placing his hand on the back of his head, whilst looking slightly embarrassed.

Natsu remained quiet, speechless in fact, not sure whether the guy was being serious or if this was some elaborate prank. Gray had never apologised to him before, so this was definitely a peculiar experience for the both of them, one to be cautious of.

"You don't gotta look at me like I've got two heads or somethin', I can be mature to admit when I'm wrong… sometimes." Gray added, not entirely keen on the shocked gawk he was receiving from the fire mage. "It's about yesterday actually. The way I reacted about helping Haru and our fight because of it; he's your son after all and it wasn't my place to say those things. I can't imagine how I made Lucy feel, she was struggling enough already without me making it worse. It was wrong of me to do that, so I'm sorry."

If he was being honest, Natsu had forgotten all about that, putting it to the back of his mind like he did with all of his bickering with Gray, it was the least of his worries at the moment. But the ice mage did have a point, their disagreement had gone beyond the boundaries of their usual rivalry banter, having brought not only Haru into it, but Lucy as well.

"I didn't mean to explode like that, I've kinda had a lot going on and I took it out on you guys." Gray added, his earlier smirk gone and mood now dampened.

Natsu could see the man was troubled; something was bothering his friend deep down under that hard exterior, but was reluctant to say what. He'd been eyeing him carefully; he knew him apologising smelt off and now he just needed to know why?

"Yeah, so quit broodin' and spit it out." Natsu said, not wanting to give away too much that he was concerned for his frenemy, but also completely clueless as to what he might tell him.

Sighing dejectedly, Gray answered, "Natsu, what's it like?" He couldn't bring himself to look at the fire mage, his eyes trained on the infant in his lap.

"What is what like?"

"You know, this." He gestured to the infant playing with his father's scarf, still comfortably sat in the ice mages lap.

"You mean having a kid?" Natsu asked, garnering the attention of said child when he spoke. "It's the best thing ever!" The young father exclaimed with his usual, vibrant enthusiasm, lightening the mood without even meaning too. "Why'd you wanna know?"

At first Gray stayed quiet, not knowing how to answer that question without it all becoming too real for him. He was worried for sure, scared of the unknown, not knowing if he was prepared enough for such a life changing experience, yet now, he really had no choice and it didn't take long for Natsu to cotton on to what was going on.

"Oh! I get it! You're just worried that your kid ain't gonna be as great as mine." Natsu smirked at Gray's dumbstruck expression, chuckling as he turned his attention to Haru briefly, "Did ya hear that kiddo? You're gonna have a new buddy to play with!" Sniggering, Haru gave one of his 'Natsu' grins and decided to crawl his way over and sit in his fathers lap instead.

"Whoa! Hold on a second! I never said that; who said I was having one? Maybe I was just asking out of curiosity?" Gray began fidgeting, his eyes shifting between Natsu's knowing eyes and his smug grin.

"Uh-huh… And if I were to go to Juvia right now…"

"No! Okay, you're right!" Gray panicked, waving his hands to stop Natsu from getting up. "Please don't do that, she didn't want anyone knowing until she felt well enough to return to the guild. She wanted to be there to tell everyone herself. Which is fine but what a pain it's been having to pretend she'd caught some weird bug on her last mission and that's the reason she hasn't shown her face recently."

"Why is she sick?" Natsu asked, curious to find out more. He didn't know a whole lot about what women went through when having a baby, he'd never experienced that with Lucy—they'd skipped that part. "The baby makes her sick?"

"Well, yeah, and a bunch of other stuff. It's like living with a bag of hormones at the moment. One minute she's normal, then she puking her guts out, then she's crying for whatever unknown reason. Honestly, man, I don't know where my head is at right now, I just can't keep up!" Gray sure did look frazzled, now that he had openly said it out loud, his own mood swings and weird behaviour made a bit more sense.

"Hasn't Juvia always been like that? Apart from the blowing chunks bit."

"I guess so, but now she's even crazier."

"Aren't you happy about it though? 'Cause I'm sure Juvia is." The slayer asked, curiously.

"Yeah, sure I am, but I'm terrified too. It's just weird ya know? And with her magic acting up lately, she hasn't been able to go on any jobs with me." Gray shrugged, not seeming too bothered by it.

"Wait, what did you say?" Natsu's mind had gone into overdrive the moment those words left the demon slayers mouth. "The baby… It affects her magic too?!"

"Yeah, it drains her, makes her sick and tired. Although, Porlyusica said that's a symptom that eventually wears off." Gray said, eyeing the dragon slayer as his eyes became like two saucers, a gaping mouth to match. "What? Did I say something?" Not having a clue what was going on, the ice mage stared at his friend, not knowing what he'd said wrong.

"N-No, it's, uh, L-Lucy, she's… I gotta go!" The pink haired boy hopped to his feet and as quick as lightning he was in the distance, yelling his thanks behind him.

"Wait, Natsu! You never told me… what was wrong with Lucy?" Already out of sight by the time Gray had finished speaking, he sighed and shook his head. "That idiot…" He muttered under his breath, ignoring the horrified stares of the people around him as he took himself out of the park, never looking down to see that he'd lost his trousers now too.

#nalu #Natsu and Lucy #nalu fanfiction #fairy tail nalu #natsu dragneel #natsu #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #happy (fairy tail)#fairytail #fairy tail 100 year quest #fairy tail 100 years quest #fanfiction #nalu fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction writing #natsu x lucy #lucy heartfilia #daddy natsu

64 notes · View notes

cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

Text

Home (Baekhyun x reader)

DOMESTIC FLUFF (?)

ENJOY!

The jingling sounds of key and door carefully pushed open resonated through the half lit apartment. Baekhyun locked his door and carefully switched on the light. His foot steps brought him to the living room, which surprisingly was not neat. He flashed an apologizing smile when he saw the scattered books, papers, and highlighters on top of the coffee table and to the girl who fell asleep uncomfortably on the couch.

A book was covering half of her face; Baekhyun giggled at the sight. He gently placed his gym bag on the other couch, took the book on her face, marked the page with a highlighter and closed it down. He bent to greet her with a kiss and gave a gentle stroke on her shining brown hair. The girl did not move at all, in which Baekhyun deducted she had been too tired this week. He shuffled into the bedroom, took a soft blanket and returned to the sleeping girl. He draped the blanket over her, and left to shower. That girl is Scarlet, the lucky girl who stole Baekhyun's heart and the one he's engaged to.

One of the room that Baekhyun loves other than the bedroom is the bathroom. His marvelous girlfriend amazingly turned this place's dull bathroom into a masterpiece. Baekhyun thanked his hard work which resulted this marble walls and tiles. He thanked his sweats for purchasing him a pulsing bathtub, but mostly, Baekhyun appreciated how his girl did the lights and ambience for this room. The dim relaxing lights and candles never failed in calming his nerves down. The pack of aroma oils she kept on one of the shelves helped Baekhyun breathe even lighter.

Today he realized, it's not late yet to have a dip. It's only 10 (that's why he knew his girl had been tired, for she usually waited til' morning). Baekhyun opened the faucet, walked to the box of oils and chose his companion for tonight. He decided to go with vanilla and a blue bath bomb. He tossed the bomb when the water's enough and stripped down. In less than a minute, he was groaning from the pulses which hit his tired body and softly moaned from the comfort the oils and bubbles gave him. He closed his eyes for a moment, did some deep breathing, and reopened his eyes.

He scanned the room, his heart warming when he saw the things in this room came in pair. The tooth brush, the towels, and the vanity sets. His eyes traveled one more time to the rack of body wash collections Scarlet owns. He frowned a little when he realized her collections had changed.

Baekhyun remembered seeing bottles of colorful and super sweet smelling soaps, but now it's replaced with plain bottles. He squinted his eyes and reached for each bottles. Reading off the titles and scents. He frowned when he read "aromatherapy edition". Though he admit the smells are wonderful, he tried to get her message. The bottles were labeled like Sleep, Stress, and Love. He returned them and glanced at the scented candles which Scarlet likes to light when she showers. The fun bakery or fruity smells was replaced too with another Sleep candle. He felt something’s wrong. Quickly he finished his bath, washed, and tugged on his shorts.

He walked out of the steamy shower, bare chested, then tip toed to the dining table. He made himself a glass of warm milk and sat down while looking at his sleeping girlfriend. Scarlet has always been a shining, restless ball of energy, with lots of positivity, just like him. But he was late to realize that she was going through a lot.

Baekhyun's comeback activities have not allowed him to go home early, except today since two members started to feel sick, nor did it allow him to send texts and sneak calls. He tried to remember when was the last time he checked on Scarlet, and he felt bad when he figured out how much of an uncaring boyfriend he is. He looked at the engagement ring on his left finger and then to Scarlet, played a bit with it, and guilt flooded his body.

When was the last time Baekhyun asked how's she doing? When did he call first or texted first? When did he come home to ask her how her day went? When Baekhyun did accompany her to finish her mountain of home works? When did he really act like her man?

The answer was long time ago. It's always Scarlet who started the conversation, it's always her waiting for him. Scarlet's the one who forced her tired body to stay awake, just to welcome tired Baekhyun home. Scarlet's the one who always asked and listened attentively to how his day happened. She's the one who prepared his bath and bed.

Every morning they still see each other. Drinking coffees and eating breads, Scarlet usually asked him how his sleep was while packing a lunch for her, and him. Not to forget how she always yawned from staying awake to finish her tasks and woke up early to fetch Baekhyun his breakfast and lunch.

He felt like a shit, had he ever sit next to Scarlet all night when she typed words into her laptop, while chugging on cups and cups of coffee? Rarely. Yes he tried and failed miserably, but Scarlet never for once put a grudge on this. Baekhyun saw her charged phone on the island. He reached it and opened the lock, swiped until he found the calendar widget. He scanned through it and learned that this month is her final exam weeks; that explains the books and papers. He carefully noted down each day's exam. Baekhyun made a small plan on his mind. A small support which he hoped can help her pass the exams.

After finishing his milk, he walked to Scarlet, picked her up and put her down on their bed. He returned to the living room to pack on her belongings for tomorrow's class and tidied up the couch. After noting the clock, he turned off the lights and joined Scarlet to dream land. Baekhyun counted the hours of sleep, its 23.30, his schedule tomorrow starts at nine, while Scarlet's class starts at eight. He will wake up earlier tomorrow, make her breakfast, and walk her to campus. Baekhyun smiled at himself, then after another kiss he closed his eyes.

The sun rays woke Baekhyun up around 6. He carefully left his bed, washed, and walked to the kitchen. He turned the coffee machine on, heated the water, then prepared two cups. Baekhyun yawned as he checked on their fridge, surprisingly there are eggs, hams, and cheese. He threw his head to the counter and smiled when he saw bread. He noted he has to grab groceries on his way home, this fridge won't refill itself.

Baekhyun finished cooking the second egg, when a fresh showered Scarlet surprised him with a back hug.

"Morning bae, sorry for sleeping deep last night," Scarlet kissed Baekhyun's exposed neck.

"Morning too babe, no problem... I saw your tiring schedules, it's okay to fell asleep. I like it better, for you to stay healthy." Baekhyun said as he plated the egg on top of the bread, then topped it with cheese and ham then bread. He turned the stove off and returned the kiss Scarlet gave.

"Hmm the coffee's ready." Scarlet inhaled the sweet smell of coffee.

Baekhyun grinned, "Just sit down my lady; I'll prepare this for you." Baekhyun poured milk into one coffee. He knew her well!

Scarlet took a snap and updated her Instagram.

"What? I'm just going to post this so your fans can day dream on you."

Baekhyun said nothing to this, he's thankful though that even though some fans hated her in the beginning, by today they shifted to support them and Baekhyun's thankful Scarlet has been strong so far.

"Let's eat. Enjoy your breakfast." Baekhyun smiled.

"Thanks Baekhyun." She smiled and delicately finished her portion.

"How's your sleep?" Baekhyun asked this time, and he did not miss how Scarlet seemed surprised and happy he asked first. Gosh why did he not do this before? Seeing her surprised and happy made him happy too.

"Amazing! I dreamed that a handsome prince came to kiss my nightmares away, oh Baek it feels real," She gazed into the space.

Baekhyun giggled and brought his hand to ruffle her hair.

"How's yours?" Scarlet asked back.

They caught up with one another, exchanged small talks on how the comeback is going, annoyed conversation on Scarlet's never ending tasks, planned about visiting their parents, and many more.

"Come let's get ready. I can walk you to campus today." Baekhyun stood up and collected the dirty plates. He washed them quickly as Scarlet prepared herself.

They're ready. Baekhyun's wearing black and black with a black cap and black masker, on his left shoulder hung Scarlet's school bag, on his right hand the small hand of Scarlet. They walk while enjoying the sun and other couples.

"Baekhyun, I'm sorry if I sound rude.. But can you please return to the pastel and denim looks please? I'm tired of seeing your dark clothes in the laundry." Scarlet spoke.

He did not need to think and nodded, "Sure! I'll dress brighter after this."

Scarlet smiled, "Thanks! It's depressing for me to see your dirty clothes."

Their steps reached the end, Scarlet smiled brightly in front of the campus gate.

"I can take it from here, thanks jagi, good luck with your practice!" Scarlet rose to give a quick peck on his lips and they parted.

That afternoon, practice ended quickly. Baekhyun rushed to the parking lot after changing into a fresh tee.

"Yak, where are you running to?" Chanyeol asked before Baekhyun was gone behind the doors. It is normal for him to rush home, but Chanyeol always asked the details.

"A date probably?" Kyungsoo teased his friend.

"Any special day?" Sehun chimed in too.

"Nah.. I want to go to the market and prepare dinner."

"Wow, did something happen?" Kai asked

"Nothing bad, I just realize I'm not a caring namja..." He blushed

The rest of them laughed it off and just wished him good luck

Baekhyun was thankful today is a Friday and he can leave before 6! Yet he was sure that Scarlet's last class today will end at 6, which gives him enough time to shop and cook.

He rushed to the supermarket nearby the apartment and bought everything needed for dinner and the empty desolate fridge. He restocked the fruits, chocolates, pop corns. He bought home a bouquet of fresh flowers and a letter too.

Once back home, he arranged everything on the refrigerator and began to cook.

Right as he wait for the rice to cook, he arranged the tables and still got time for a quick fresh shower.

Once he he spit the light-blue mouthwash away, the jingles of key made his heart pound.

"Mwoya?" Scarlet gasped in surprise when she was greeted by the dim lit room only from the dining room. She took off her shoes and left her belongings on the sofa. Scarlet stood frozen in front of the dining room.

There stood Baekhyun, all in his boyfriend dreamy look and a bouquet of fresh flowers. Not to mention how perfect his oversized yellow pastel sweater matched his fluffy caramel hair. His eye bags showed naturally how tired he is, no heavy make ups and eye shadows. Just the plain glowing cheeks Scarlet love, to an extend that she will give everything just so his cheeks can glow.

She did not say anything, he was still frozen too, and Scarlet took the moment to melt Baekhyun in her deep meaningful kiss.

"You don't have to do this Baek," she whispered as her lips lingered close to his.

"I wanted to jagiya, here's your flower." He handed her the bouquet.

Scarlet took a deep whiff of the roses and placed it on the vase.

"Wow you cooked dinner!" She giggled as she saw the pile of dirty pans and pots in the sink.

"Don't worry I'll clean them up, before that shall we eat?" He raised his brow.

"One moment!" Scarlet turned to take a quick shower and change her clothes.

She returned only in Baekhyun's oversized baby blue knitted sweater and a messy bun.

"Jja, let's begin" She took her seat and Baekhyun lit the candles.

"I'll bring you to a proper place tomorrow or next week... sorry tonight I rushed.." He shyly said.

"Oh I love this better Baekhyun, anyways your food tastes better than mine! What secrets are you using?" Scarlet ate happily, savoring each spices and sweetness. Baekhyun felt full seeing her this happy. He got it now how mothers felt when their kids finished her meals. It's rewarding.

"Nothing much, I pour my heart into it." He cheekily replied.

Scarlet rolled her eyes on this, "You know what... I owe you something for this perfect surprise. I love you Baekhyun!"

"Well you could thank me with tonight's activity. How long was it again since we did it? Oh damn I've missed your touch." He smirked.

Scarlet's cheeks burned and she finished her glass of water.

"Will you be good for me tonight?" Baekhyun sipped his wine and put on his playful smirk.

Scarlet winked, "We'll see."

#baekhyun imagine #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun domestic fluff #baekhyun fluff #exo baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun one shot #imagine baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #fluff #exo fluff #exo imagine

96 notes · View notes

xandertheundead · 5 years ago

Note

Okay but CONSIDER!!!!!! Comedian!Eddie

OKAY ANON! YOU GOT ME GOOD WITH THIS ONE CAUSE I LOVE THE IDEA! This one really got long so umm…yeah sorry! lol

Eddie watched as that familiar tall gangly form made its way onto the dimly lit center of the stage, roars of applause sounding when the lights came up. There he was, in his loud Hawaiian shirt and black jeans that were a hair too tight and those gross ratty converse he always wore on stage.

Richard ‘just call me Richie’ Tozier.

He watched as Richie did his opening joke, that large cheese-ball grin on his face when the crowd roared with laughter at the line about being in New York and their horseback police who have brought Amish crime down so well.

He had met Tozier eight years back, on one of Eddie’s tours when he was in L.A, he had just finished his show ‘Short Person Complex: Fuck you!’ and was signing autographs and ticket stubs when a giant walked up to him. Eddie remembered his first thought had been ‘holy shit those glasses are thick’ and then ‘this man has a terrifyingly large mouth’ when the giant smiled at him widely.

“Holy shit. Ed Kasp.” The giant gushed, people beside him just barely restraining themselves from trying to push this guy out of the way because he was taking too long. “You are seriously one of my favorite comedians ever.”

“Thank you.” Eddie had smiled, looking around to see if the man wanted anything signed. “Did you want something signed?”

Eddie had made it sound polite, not wanting to brush off a fan but people were getting agitated with this guy. But the man just continued on like Eddie hadn’t asked him anything and that people weren’t starting to grumble.

“I mean, normally the ranting comedy isn’t my thing, but you really know how to make your anger into something that is just so amazing and funny.”

Eddie nodded slowly, trying so hard to cue to this guy with his eyes that it was time to move along if he didn’t want anything signed. “Thank you, now I think-“

“God and you’re just so damn hot.”

The tall man had been pushed along by the crowd and Eddie went back to pictures, autographs and shaking hands, but the image of those thick glasses with that smile stuck in his head. The words the man said made a small smile come to his face because normally people were too scared to approach Eddie because in his shows he was always ranting and raving so they thought that he was always like that. Either that or they wanted something from him and put up with him for it. It felt good to know that someone out there thought he was good looking even when he was stomping around on stage like a rabid lemur monkey and didn’t ask for anything. It was a nice memory to keep, Eddie’s tour ended and life moved on.

Until a year later when his manager introduced him to his newest tour’s opening act.

Eddie could have sworn the giant grew since the last time he had seen him, dressed in ratty jeans and a bright orange T-shirt with a twerking cow on it that read ‘My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Yard’. That wide mouth grinned, perfect teeth with the silver of a retainer across the top row, and suddenly they were shaking hands.

“Eddie, meet Richie Tozier.”

He hated the man.

Richie Tozier was rude, loud, crass and obnoxious, he left his dirty clothes all over the tour bus and several times Eddie’s not so fake anger came out. They fought constantly, where to eat, the mess, music, how many pills Eddie took, etcetera. Etcetera. Etcetera.

Luckily they were on their last show in Chicago and thank God because Eddie’s jaw hurt from all the teeth grinding he’d been doing everytime Richie opened that fucking mouth. Eddie waved to the crowd as he walked off stage, the heavy velvet curtains of the Chicago Theater coming down to muffle the sound of applause as he wiped at his face with his handkerchief.

“Jesus the lights were warm.” Eddie muttered as he loosened the tie around his neck and pushed into his dressing room and stopped dead when he noticed someone else was in his room. “What the fuck?”

There stood Richie, dripping wet and in nothing but a towel, looking at Eddie in shock like he wasn’t the one being caught naked in someone else’s dressing room. “Eddie…did you end early? I thought I had a little more time.”

Eddie sputtered for a minute, rage and shock making his thoughts run a million miles faster than his mouth and it didn’t help that Richie’s stupid ass wide shoulders and chest were right on display. It must have been obvious he was on the verge of exploding because then Richie held up his hands in a defensive motion, his blue eyes cleared without those thick glasses on.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Richie started slowly, backing up a little and Eddie noticed the towel start to slip. Why the fuck were bony ass hipbones attractive to him right now? “I needed to shower after the opening and your dressing room was the only one who had one.”

“You should have gone back to the hotel then!” Eddie frowned at the guilty look that crossed Richie’s face. Good! This guy, acting like everyone else’s stuff was his own, it drove Eddie insane.

“Yeah,” Richie started slowly, looking down at the floor. “But then I would have missed your whole show. This way I only missed the last fifteen minutes.”

Eddie blinked. “What? Why would you-? You’ve seen it twelve times already.”

Richie blinked, turning to look up at Eddie again with a confused look that probably matched Eddie’s own. “So?”

“So? So why does it matter to see this one?”

Richie’s gaze quickly moved to the side, avoiding eye contact as his cheeks started to grow an alarming shade of red. “Jesus, you’re dumb.”

Anger spiked again. “Excuse me?”

Richie gave a halfhearted shrug and rolled his eyes, but even though his actions were flippant Eddie could see fear in his eyes. “If you can’t tell that I’ve been in love with you for years then I’m sorry. You’re a certified idiot.”

The knock at his intelligence flew right over his head because the love confession by the almost naked man in front of him consumed his mind. Love? Richie loved him? How? All they did was fight and bicker. Was this a joke? One of Richie Toziers dumb ass jokes that he thought would be hilarious?

“Is this a joke?” Eddie asked, his breath hitching a little as an embarrassed panic settled over him, the idea of his sexuality being the butt of a joke again causing his back and palms start to sweat. “Cause it’s not fucking funny in the slightest.”

“Wha-? No! Why would I joke about that?”

Eddie threw up his hands because he didn’t really have an answer to that. Richie was very vocal about his bisexuality, the confidence something Eddie didn’t have about his own sexuality until he was at least twenty-four.

“People have before!” It was the best he could come up with and he had to look away from the sadness he saw in the other’s eyes because he couldn’t handle that right now. “People can be awful and two faced and we’ve done nothing but get under each other’s skin so excuse me if I’m a little surprised.”

It was quiet, the only sound being Eddie’s heavy breathing, his head starting to feel light with how many emotions he was trying to keep inside. When Richie spoke again Eddie’s attention snapped to him, Richie’s wet hair starting to curl now that it was starting to dry and Eddie had an insane thought of pulling on one of the ringlets.

“It’s not a joke.” Richie started slowly. “And damn I wish I had my glasses cause right now you’re just a faceless blob, but I’m not joking. I just-you fought me first.”

Eddie blinked. The nerve of this fucking dipshit. “Are you serious?”

“You yelled at me because of my clothes.”

Eddie was about to explode, with what emotion he wasn’t sure which was strange. “They were all over the bus!”

Richie had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “Yeah, well-“

“Yeah, well-“ Eddie mimicked, pitching his voice lowers like Richie’s but adding more of an idiot tone. He frowned crossing his arms as he stared at the man, daring Richie to try to excuse how much of a mess he was. The tension was thick and honestly Eddie was glad this was the last show because if this went south, which it probably was going to, then he wouldn’t ever have to see Richie Tozier again.

Then Richie’s towel slipped completely.

Both of them stood there deathly silent, Eddie trying his best not to glance down while Richie made a face as if accepting that this was how he was probably going to be murdered. Eddie cracked first,it started out as a choked wheeze, his body barely able to contain the full on belly laugh that came after it and Eddie bent over and gasped for breath as he continued to laugh so hard tears came to his eyes.

“Yeah.” Richie muttered. “I confess to a guy, show him my dick and he laughs. That’s about right.”

Eddie started laughing harder and he was honestly about to choke on his own spit if Richie said anything else. Soon Richie started to laugh as well, not even bothering to pick the towel back up as he grabbed his pants and started hopping into them rather ungracefully.

“You look like a literal noodle man.” Eddie whispered, his voice shot from laughing so hard. “Oh my god! How are you all limbs?”

“I’m real good at reaching for things up high. That’s my like top talent there. Number one on my dating profile.”

Laughter bubbled up from Eddie’s throat again and he had to go sit down on the couch because his abs hurt. “You’re ridiculous.”

The smile that Richie gave him made his heartbeat speed up a bit as he smiled back.

That had been five years ago, four dating anniversaries ago, moving into two new apartments and one house near the beach in San Diego ago and now Eddie sat in the crowd and watched his boyfriend act. It had been the twenty-seventh time he’d heard it, they both used each other as sounding boards for their newest material, and Eddie thought it was one of Richie’s best.

But it threw him when near the end, Richie segwayed into a completely different topic than he was supposed to.

“So did you hear about Ben Hanscome and Beverly Marsh finally tying the knot?” The crowd whooped loudly and Richie chuckled. “Man, it was great. Yeah, you heard right. I was there. I got invited because I’m special.”

The crowd laughed at the bratty cheerleader voice he’d used at the word special and Eddie watched in confusion as Richie laughed at himself and shook his head.

“But man it was great. They were so into each other that anyone would look at it and be like ‘Damn I want that.’ Ya know, along with the million dollars they have, their banging bods and that awesome leg garter Ben was wearing all night.” More laughs and Eddie was starting to get nervous about what this was. Richie now a days only improvised when something had gone wrong with his act, but he had pulled off almost the whole thing without a hitch so Eddie didn’t know what was happening. “It made me think about if I want that. Like, get to see my little Napoleon dressed in his finest.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“So, I think I’m going to try and make it a thing.” The world went silent as Richie pulled something from his pocket and moved to kneel down on his knee. “Spaghetti, what do you say? Wanna try matrimony with me?”

Richie was looking right at him, the whole crowd was looking for him and Eddie had no idea how to react. So, he did the only thing he knew to do, he stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth so the whole theater could hear him.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” He yelled loudly. “During a show? Really?”

The crowd starting muttering in worry, but Richie kept that dumb beautiful smile on his face and Eddie grinned.

“But yes! Obviously I’ll marry you, dick head!”

Send me a Prompt!

Tag list: @tinyarmedtrex @oldguybones @constantreaderfool @queen-sock@stylesmelon @appojoos @photoboothreddie @trashmouthnick @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @s-s-georgie @reddieforlove @moonlightrichie @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @thorn-harvester-ven @pink-psychic @nancynwheeler @recycle-byn @marsisaplanetyall @lifesucksheres20bucks @edstozler @uppperteeeth @s-onora @darkobsidianquill @purplepoisonedgem @njess04

#asks #anon #Writing prompt #Reddie #Richie x Eddie #Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #It (2017)#It (2019)#It Stephen King #losers club #Anonymous

186 notes · View notes

blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 5 years ago

Note

I can't stop thinking about your madame red au and the headcannons you wrote last. Can I ask for Joker and reader where she helps him during the dance and all and defends him behind his back when some ladies are shocked because ,,how dare a woman lead a man?!". And maybe Madame Red notices the reader and her behaviour towards Joker and the others and already ships them? Sorry it's so long. Headcannons or scenarios are fine. 😅😁

PLEASE DON’T BE SORRY, THIS IS ALL I EVER WANT IN LIFE AND I OWE U FOR REQUESTING IT

it got so hecking long omg I never plan for things to get this long but when I like something a lot it just kind of happens!!!

The fact that your new companion is missing an arm seems to bother you far less than it does him, at least in the context of trying to figure out how to position yourselves to dance.

“I just, ah ― oof, Lord ― I-I dunno if this is gonna work.” His face is about as red as his hair by now, and he just draws himself away from you. “I’m… I’m sorry. This pro’ly ain’t such a good idea, beauty. Why, uh, why don’t ye go dance wit’ someone else?”

Able to feel other people’s eyes on you both, you shamelessly step back toward him. “Because I want to dance with you. It’s not really that big a deal, is it? There has to be a way.”

He offers you a timid smile. “Be m’ guest, m’ lady.”

The sound of several other girls tittering behind their fans as they watch the man flounder is all the determination you need.

“So I shall!” You return his smile before analyzing the situation. After a moment, you make a move: you wrap your arm around his waist and draw him flush against you. This might be a good start… “Hm, this may work. If I keep my arm here, then I can support you. That way, we can hold hands and you don’t have to worry about losing your grip or anything, because I’ll be holding you.”

Another round of blush blooms over his cheeks. “T-this ain’t exac’ly proper, though, is it? I mean… Mum said th’ man’s s’posed ta be th’ one wit’ ‘is arm round the lady’s waist. Heh, treatin’ me like a lady, are ye? Makin’ a joke like ev’ryone else?”

You can’t help but to burst out laughing, though you take care not to be too loud. The two of you have enough attention on you already, and you get the sense that it’s not the good kind, so you don’t want to attract more. “What?? I wouldn’t make a joke of you. It’s just that we have to do things a bit differently, and we have to do whatever works. It doesn’t mean I’m treating you like a lady. If this is what works, then that should be the proper thing, shouldn’t it?”

“… Well…” His good arm scratches at the side of his cheek as he seems to think that over. It makes a lot of sense, as far as you’re concerned. The very definition of proper is that something is correct. If the way you normally dance doesn’t work when dancing with him, then clearly it isn’t proper. “I, ah, guess I never thought ‘f it that way b’fore. Good way ta put it. This is… alrigh’, then? Dancin’ like this? Ye don’t mind it?”

“Of course not. It’ll be kind of exciting to do things differently.” With your free hand, you take his, weaving your fingers into the spaces between his and noting how it just feels right. “I think this is song is meant to be waltzed to, so… one, two, three?” you tease.

When he chuckles, it’s a sound like golden honey. He has such a lovely voice, and a bright laugh to match even as he’s keeping it soft. “One, two, three, it is, m’ beauty.”

So the two of you start to move. As you lead him around the dance floor, you focus on him rather than all the people who are staring at you. “By the way, I don’t think we introduced ourselves. I’m (Name). And your name?”

“Ah, it’s JOKER,” he hums. “Mum told me she’d never heard ‘f anyone wit’ tha’name, but I picked it m’self a while ago. Never ‘ad any other one.”

“Huh… Lady Durless-Barnett isn’t your mother by blood, right?”

“Aye, tha’s right. She found us all an’ took us in.”

“So, what about the woman who gave birth to you? She didn’t give you any kind of name?”

He averts his eyes down toward your feet with a halfhearted shrug. “She didn’t. Rather not talk ‘bout any o’ that, ‘f ye don’t mind.”

You frown, but recover quickly. “Oh… no, that’s fine. I understand. Then ― all the others that Lady Durless-Barnett took in along with you. You were all basically a family before she found you? You’re all brothers and sisters?”

“Mhm. Tha’s ‘ow we’ve always thought o’ each other.”

“That’s so sweet.” You glance around the room for a minute, spotting some of them, and you can’t help the smile that settles on your lips. “What are their names? What are they like?”

His own smile is back at those questions. “Well… th’ two over sittin’ in th’ chairs, that’s Mally an’ Dagger. They’re each missin’ a leg. Both a bit ‘otheaded, if ye ask me, but that jus’ means they’re also passionate an’ determined. Go ta th’ ends o’ the Earth f’r ye if they think ye deserve it.”

“What about the tall fellow standing by the punch?”

Joker laughs and this time a little snort makes its way out. “Aw, that’s Jumbo. Ye can tell righ’ off what’s goin’ on with ‘im, can’t ye? I knoo he looks scary, but ‘e’s got the biggest ‘eart I ever seen. More afraid o’ ye than ye are o’ him, I’d wager. That suit don’t fit ‘im right; Mum did ‘er best.”

“And the girl next to him by the refreshment table ― the one with cake all over her dress?”

“Ah, God! She’s got it all dirty already, does she?” That grin of his is… really something. “Tha’s Freckles. We call ‘er Doll sometimes, too. Ye knoo, she’s pro’ly the brightest outta all o’ us, ‘r at least brighter’n I am. She’s pretty much th’ heart o’ our li’l group, always got a smile f’r us all.”

“I think the last two are… running around flirting? They seem to be half everyone else’s height?”

It’s obvious that the image is hilarious to him. “Oh, Peter an’ Wendy. Those two only grew ta a certain ‘eight, an’ they’re ‘bout as inseparable as anythin’. Peter can be a bitter pill ta swallow, rough round the edges… come ta think ‘f it, so can Wendy, she’s jus’ quieter. Once ye get ta know ‘em, though, ye see they ain’t bad at all.”

You give one more look at all of them, then return your gaze to Joker’s face. “… So, how about you?”

He blinks a few times, looking surprised. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” you giggle. “Now that I know that everyone else is passionate, nice,energetic, loyal… what are you? How would you describe yourself the way you just described your family?”

“Oh… er…” And he’s blushing again. Precious. “I… dunno, really.”

A hum vibrates up from your throat. “I suppose I’ll just have to find out for myself, then. As it stands, this is one of the most pleasant dances I’ve ever had with someone, so I would use charming as a starting point.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Ye think?”

“I’ve done this a few times, you know.” You lead him in the next step, twirling around with him in your arms. “So far, you’re probably the best dance partner I’ve had. You’re very sweet.”

“Awh, ye’re havin’ a go at me. Don’t make me blush, beauty.”

As the song transitions into a new one, you lean over and give a very light kiss to his cheek. “Oh, don’t limit me like that. You’re very handsome when you blush.”

You loosen your arm so that he can move away if he doesn’t want to dance for another song. “So,” you say, “would you like to go for another song?”

He shifts himself out of your arms. “Actually, sure. But first, would it… maybe be alrigh’ if I brought Mally an’ Dagger over? They both been poutin’ over not bein’ able ta dance, an’, well, if ye can find a good way ta ‘elp me dance, I bet ye could f’r them too. Sure make ‘em real happy, if ye’re up f’r that.”

“Oh… of course! I’m nothing if not up for a challenge.” You step back and give him a curtsy. “Hurry back!”

“Joker, darling, did I just see you were dancing with (Name) (Surname)? Goodness, and you didn’t think you’d be confident enough to ask anyone to dance, yet you asked the most beautiful, eligible woman in the room!”

Joker shoots a nervous grin at his mother, who’s currently fanning herself as she surveys her party. “Actually, she… she was th’ one who asked me.”

“What?” Anne’s eyes get even wider, sparkling devilishly. “Oh, my!! That can only mean one thing. She’s interested in you.”

“Her? Oh, Mum, she’s lovely, she really is, but… I-I dunno.” Just thinking about you makes his heart skip a beat. He’s very much interested in you, but the two of you did just meet, and he��s… missing pieces. “She couldn’t be int’rested in me.”

Anne pauses in the motion to point her fan toward the dance floor. “Then why is she doing that?”

When Joker turns his head where his mother is pointing, he not only sees what you’re doing, he hears it too. Currently, you’re positioned as if in a stand-off with one of the other attendees.

“― And you don’t know anything about him! You want to insult someone, pick on someone your own size and come at me. Go on! If you want me to tell my father to cut off business with yours, I dare you to say something. A woman leading a man in a waltz isn’t that strange! Well? Suddenly you don’t have anything to say? Just turn around like the coward you are, and if I hear you so much as breathe another word about him, you will be sorry.”

Joker’s attention isn’t even on the fact that the other lady turns bright red before flouncing off with her friends. He doesn’t care about her reaction; he cares about what you’re saying and doing. What…?

It would appear you’re defending him from someone who tried to make rude remarks about him. Why? Isn’t that the kind of thing that could ruin your standing if you get too heated about it? Why would you risk that just because someone made a cruel comment about someone you barely know? Why would you threaten such a big thing as changing your father’s business partners for him, who’s basically a stranger to you?

Anne’s giggling as she nudges Joker with one elbow. “Keeping that in mind, we should start thinking about whether you’d like a June wedding or a December wedding.”

“Mum!!” he snorts, though his face is all aglow with a soft pink. “That’s not… I’m not… she’s…”

“She likes you. Which, of course, proves that she has excellent taste.” Anne runs an affectionate hand through her son’s hair. “Why don’t you set up a date with her, sweetheart?”

Joker’s gaze returns to you, still standing in the middle of the dance floor, arms crossed, silently daring anyone to say anything mean about him or any of the others, while he remembers how kindly you treated him.

“… I just might do that, Mum. Just might.”

#twennari #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Joker #reader insert #romantic #Madame Red Savior AU #drama #fluff #THIS IS ALL I WANT HOLY FUCK #I'M SO GLAD PEOPLE ARE INTERESTED IN THIS AU BECAUSE I WILL BLEED FOR THIS AU!!!!!#queued

70 notes · View notes

ganglylimbs · 4 years ago

Text

That Sweet Spring Heat

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/Eijirou Kirishima

Summary: Spring had just begun to fully bloom, the air warming and flowers just starting to bud, when Kirishima Eijirou loses his goddamn mind and Bakugou Katsuki is not having it.

Warnings: Hybrid au, smut, breeding kink, no mpreg, dirty talk, cat hybrid Bakugou, dog hybrid Kirishima, lingerie, strength kink, slight feminization, bottom Bakugou, top Kirishima

Notes: A little more information than you need but the breeds of hybrids are:

Kirishima- A mutt (German Shepard/Rottweiler mixed with some lab blood) Bakugou- Purebred Dragon Li Cat (seriously, read the description for them. It fits him perfectly. Just more blond)

They don't show up a lot but I thought about this au for a bit so for the others: Urakara- A Shiba Inu (because they are round bois) Momo- Japanese Crane (her family seems very elegant and traditional and cranes seem very traditionally Japanese to me) Sero- Spider (because him shooting out tape reminds me about spiders shooting out silk) Ashido- Komodo Dragon (Basically my brain went, she has horns, they remind me of lizards, Komodo dragons are dangerous, she's dangerous, we have a match) Midoriya- Fuzzy Lop Rabbits (listen, I love all the fan art I see of rabbit Deku and his mask really does look like rabbit ears) Kaminari- Field Mouse (listen, I will not give up this headcanon) The two random OCs- Black Horn Sheep

Spring had just begun to fully bloom, the air warming and flowers just starting to bud, when Kirishima Eijirou loses his goddamn mind and Bakugou Katsuki is not having it.

Bakugou's blond fluffy ears lay flat on his hair, a vein popping along his forehead, his sleek tail flicking back and forth. His arms are crossed over his chest, staring down at his stupid ass boyfriend.

Kirishima stares back with bright eyes, a clueless grin on his lips as his large red tail thumps against the bed, ears perked. His full attention is on Bakugou.

They continue their staring contest for a full minute, in which Bakugou's scowl deepens and deepens.

Finally, he snaps. "Alright, you fuck, what’s up?"

Kirishima raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Bakugou throws his hands out, gesturing at all of him. "You! What's going on in that fucking brain of yours?"

Kirishima's tail slows down in its wagging, just a bit. "Ah, Bakugou, don’t be rude, man. I thought we were having fun." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"That’s not the point mutt-for-brains. You’ve been acting weird and I want to know why.”Bakugou's hands crackle and spark, a clear warning sign.

The effect is slightly weakened by the fact that they are both naked, Bakugou straddling Kirishima's hips, and Bakugou's thighs stained in Kirishima's cum.

Kirishima, because he's a goddamn idiot, ignores the warning explosions, his lightly hardened hands scratching at the skin of Bakugou's waist. He just tilts his head. "Babe, I really don't know what you mean."

Bakugou snarls. "Fine. Keep being weird." Then he climbs off that thick waist, stomping out of the room, Kirishima calling after him.

If Bakugou thinks about it, this whatever the hell is wrong with Kirishima started about a month ago, after one of the charity events their agency had set up.

Bakugou hadn't really been that interested in any of the interviews or journalists trying to catch his attention, no doubt most of them hoping that Ground Zero will give them some drama to report on. Instead, he had left that for the heroes like Red Riot and Deku and Alien Queen to handle.

He had chosen to focus more on why they are here. Children had been laughing and screaming and playing all around him, other heroes had been chasing after them or sitting to draw. He had seen Uravity throwing kids up in the air, letting them float for a bit before releasing and catching them. Creati had been making toys, laughing at the increasingly extravagant demands, her large white wings spreading out behind her in excitement. Cellophane had allowed himself to be strung up by his own tape, kids dancing around him.

A hand had yanked on one of his black sleeves, making him look down. A little girl, with wild curly black hair and narrowed brown eyes had frowned back at him. Two small horns peek through her mane and a small tail swished behind her, betraying her nerves.

He had knelt down, coming face to face with her, ears turning straight forward to show she had his full attention. "What do you need, squirt?"

Her eyes had narrowed even more. "My names not squirt ."

"Sure it isn't, squirt. Now, what are you bothering me for?"

She huffed and held up two wooden swords. "I want to play Pirates but none of the other kids want to play with me. They say I'm too rough."

Bakugou had given her a rueful grin. "Yeah? Well fu-frick them. I'll take you on."

She had gaped at him. "Really?"

Bakugou had snatched one of the wooden swords and stood to his full height. "Do you think you can take Ground Zero?"

She stared for a moment and then she had grinned, showing off her teeth. "Yeah!" Then she striked forward.

His sword had swept down to meet hers, making a wooden clack sound, and the two are off. They go back and forth, running all around the field, gaining and losing ground in waves.

When the girl is left panting, her dress covered in dirt and grass stains, Bakugou had finally allowed himself to be knocked to the ground.

She had taken the chance and had stabbed him in the stomach.

Bakugou had hissed and then his body relaxed against the ground. "Damn, ok, you got me, you got me. I give."

She giggled, before pointing her sword in the air, the other hand on her hip. "I did it! I defeated Ground Zero."

Bakugou chuckled, before grabbing her and bringing her close to lick at the dirt on her face, grooming her. "Yeah, yeah, squirt."

She smacks him with the sword, squirming. "Hey," he had said, letting her go.

She frowned down at him, putting her hands on her hips. "My name's not squirt . I won didn't I?"

He gave her a small smile. "Yeah, you did. You deserve more respect don't ya? So, do I get the honor of knowing who has beaten me?"

Her chest puffed out. "My name is-"

" Doi ."

Both of them had turned to see a harried-looking man jogging up to them. Kirishima right behind him a small frown on his face.

The girl, Doi Bakugou assumed, dropped her sword and had bite the bottom of her lip. Bakugou sat up, warily watching as the two approaches.

The man came to a stop right before them, huffing. "What did I tell you about being so forceful?" He turned to Bakuoug, bowing so low his curly horns almost touch his knees. "I'm sorry if she hurt you, sometimes she forgets her own strength-"

"It's fine," Bakugou interrupted, standing up and brushing the dirt off his costume. His tail lazily swayed behind him. "We were just having some fun."

The man had still looked unsure. Doi had been quiet, but she's had looked up at Bakugou now. "Are you really ok? I know she can-"

Bakugou waved off his apologies. "Yeah, of course. I'm a hero, aren't I? I can handle a little roughness. Besides, you have a great sword handler here." He made sure to catch Doi's eyes. "I hope you continue to work on them. You would make a good hero one day."

Her eyes had gone wide. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course," Bakugou had sniffed. "I never say anything I don't mean." Then he gave her a sharp smirk, hand ruffling through her hair. "Squirt."

"Hey!" She had gone to kick him, her father panicking again.

Bakugou had just laughed, ruffling her hair again. "Come back next year and show me how much you've improved."

"I will," she had promised. Then she had puffed out her chest. "And when I win again, you have to use my name."

"Promise."

Bakugou had watched the two of them go, Doi excitedly replaying all of their fight for her dad, who nervously smiled at her but a lot more relaxed than when he had first appeared.

He had turned to say something to Kirishima but is stopped short. Kirishima had been staring at him, eyes heavy and lidded with something that made Bakugou's throat go dry.

Then Kirishima blinked and he's back to normal, big goofy grin in place, his floppy ears bouncing as he walked forward to throw an arm over Bakugou's shoulder, bringing him closer. "Did you have fun, babe?"

Bakugou had grunt, side-eyeing him, not sure what that had been all about but not willing to let it ruin his good mood. "Sure."

Kirishima had just laughed and then they were swarmed by reporters and didn't have much of a chance to talk after that.

It's not that Bakugou is exactly bothered by what is happening. Kirishima has always been touchy, even before they started dating. He has wandering hands, that love to grope and grab at Bakugou and it's often Bakugou that has to remind him that they're in public, you idiot.

So he isn't bothered by the fact that, for the past month, Kirishima has been manhandling him more often, pushing and pulling him into positions or trying to bend him over their furniture. He isn't bothered by the fact that Kirishima will come up behind him, arms around his waist, as he presses kisses into his sensitive neck.

What is unusual is that Kirishima has taken to curving his large hands around Bakugou's stomach, his eyes unable to look away as he fucks his way inside Bakugou's willing body. He's a bit confused why Kirishima has become extra invested in his nipples, why he keeps calling them "tits", or why he sucks at them as if hoping milk will come out.

It's also pretty fucking weird that Kirishima has become insatiable these past few weeks.

Kirishima has always had a higher sex drive than Bakugou. It's worked for them so far. If Bakugou isn't up to it, Kirishima is more than fine with his hand.

But lately, Kirishima has become really, really insistent, grinding against Bakugou's ass or surprising him in the shower to finger him open. Bakugou has sat on Kirishima's knot more times than he can count, has milked Kirishima for all he's worth as the dog hybrid pinches his nipples and leaves bite marks on his shoulder.

In essence, Kirishima has become a bit sex-crazy and Bakugou just wants to know why. It can't be because it's mating season. Kirishima has never acted like this before. Something had to have set him off and Bakugou is going to get to the bottom of it.

By this point, Bakugou is ready when Kirishima comes sniffing around, his big bulky frame covering Bakugou's as he starts kissing at his neck, hand already gripping his hips.

Bakugou allows him for a few seconds, before turning his head, dislodging Kirishima's lips.

Kirishima whines, low in his throat, but Bakugou ignores him. "You can have what you want when you explain what's got you so riled up."

Kirishima huffs, giving him a squeeze. "Not this again. There isn't anything wrong."

Bakugou hums, before dislodging himself. His hips sway as he leaves the room, tail curling invitingly, and he throws a look over his shoulder. "Then I guess you'll just have to do without."

Kirishima watches him leave.

Kirishima tries two more times, only to be brushed off. Bakugou wakes up later that night to Kirishima panting in his ear and grinding against his ass.

Kirishima goes to sleep on the couch.

Honestly, Bakugou thought that it would just take two days before Kirishima gave in. The horny idiot could never hold out whenever they play this game, often too impatient to get to the good stuff.

So he's a bit surprised when, a week later, and Kirishima is still tight-lipped.

He's even more surprised when Kirishima begins to ramp up his deviant behavior.

They're on patrol, just finishing up their rounds on the 4th district when a call comes over the radio. They pause, listening to a description of suspicious activity before being told to stay put as the situation unfolds.

Bakugou had just started to grunt his agreement when he cuts off into a groan.

"I know you hate not being in on the action, Ground Zero, but this is the best plan," Ingenium says over the radio.

Bakugou can't tell him to shut up because he's too busy holding back moans.

"Yeah, Katsuki," Kirishima says, a smirk curling along his lips. "Just be a good boy and stay still."

Bakugou turns to glare at him, ears flat against his hair, face flushed. But before he can get anything out, Kirishima moves his hand again, stroking from the base of Bakugou's tail up to the tip.

Bakugou can't stop the sound that is ripped from his throat.

Kirishima's eyes dilate and then he's pushing Bakugou against the wall. He crowds in close, fingers still playing with Bakugou's tail. He leans in to whisper in Bakugou's twitching ear.

"Fuck, your mouth. It's so pretty, whether moaning for me or wrapped around my dick."

Eijirou," Bakugou stutters out, heat curling in his stomach. There was no way in hell he could stop the way his hips grind back against Kirishima.

"That's it, baby," Kirishima whispers. "Who's my pretty kitty?"

Bakugou closes his eyes and shivers. His head feels fuzzy, the sudden heat and want and the damn way Kirishima is playing with his tail makes it hard to think straight.

Kirishima leans down and nibbles on his ear, sharp teeth scraping against the soft skin, and Bakugou is gone. All thoughts of punishing Kirishima till he fesses up disappears, he just needs the mutt now and-

"Ground Zero, Red Riot, the situation has escalated. We need you."

The two jerk apart. They stare at each other, breathing hard.

Bakugou grits his teeth.

Kirishima raises his hand. "Katsuki, wait-"

He gets a face full of explosion, barely hardening in time.

"Die," Bakugou screams, face completely red and fur standing on end.

"I'm sorry!"

"Oh, you're about to be."

"Ground Zero and Red Riot, we need you! Do you copy?"

Bakugou bares his fangs, before pressing his comm. "We hear you, Four Eyes-"

"Ingenium!"

"Whatever. We're on our way."

Making sure his comm is off, Bakugou points at Kirishima. "You stay the fuck away from me."

Kirishima pouts, bringing out his literal puppy eyes. "Babe, please-"

"When we're done with this villian, I'm going to throw you through a goddamn wall." And then Bakugou points his hands down, blasting off into the sky.

The villain ends up being quickly brought down and slightly burnt thanks to an angry Ground Zero.

Bakugou is steadily ignoring Kirishima, resting up at the agency after their fight, but he does hear the way Kaminari comes up to the red giant and slaps his shoulder, no sense of self-preservation in sight.

"So, I see that you landed yourself in the dog house again, huh?"

Kirishima sighs. "Come on, man. I don't need this today."

"What? Have you been collared? Bakugou got you on a leash?"

"Kaminari, not cool, I don't make mouse puns about you."

"Um, because there are no mouse puns that aren't cool," Kaminari says. "So what has King Explosion Murder neutering you this time?"

Kirishima growls and even from where Bakugou is standing, he shivers at the threat there. "Make one more pun, I dare you."

Kaminari is silent for a minute. And then…

"You were being a horndog, weren't yo-"

Kaminari cries out as he is knocked to the ground, Kirishima standing over him with a hardened fist.

Bakugou hides a snort in his fist.

Bakugou's anger is at a shimmer the next day when Kirishima, the bastard, tries again.

They don't have any hero work for that day, just some paperwork they need to fill out about the incident they were involved in, and then they get the rest of the day off.

They decide to head to the gym afterward, splitting up for a bit as they get their individual workouts in.

Bakugou always finishes his up early, hitting the showers, before going out to spot for his boyfriend.

The cat hybrid would rather die than admit that this is actually his favorite part of their shared workouts. To be able to stare at his boyfriend unabashedly, watch those muscles bulge and work, watch his broad shoulders strain under the weights, watch as sweat glides down his body.

He might have initiated a sex ban, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate the view.

Kirishima has moved on to the big weights, curling them as he counts, the sweat along his body letting Bakugou know that he's been there a while. He nods at Bakugou to show that he sees him before going back to lifting.

Bakugou stands a few feet away, next to the benches where he knows Kirishima will head next. He takes a long drink of water, eyes drifting up and down Kirishimia’s body and can’t help but smirk when Kirishima squats to drop the weights.

Then his eyes drift up to meet Kirishima’s in the mirror.

Kirishima’s eyes are dark and Bakugou finds himself caught in them. Kirishima licks his lips, drawing Bakugou’s eyes, before he stands back up, slowly. Bakugou gulps, but it’s too late to take back his mistake.

Kirishima has him caught, like prey.

Kirishima makes his way towards the bench, putting on his preferred weights, before beckoning Bakugou over. “You’re going to help me, aren’t you?” His voice has the start of rough edge and Bakugou holds in his shiver.

“Sure. Think you can actually beat that weak record of yours?”

Kirishima gives him a sharp smirk. “Of course.”

Then he starts to get to work. His arms are impressive as they bend and stretch, the heavyweights going up and down as if they were nothing. Bakugou’s eyes can’t help drifting to them or to the way Kirishima’s shirt scrunches up, showing off that toned stomach, and Bakugou watches for a brief second as it contracts and expands.

Kirishima clears his throat and Bakugou’s eyes jerk up to his. “You have a job to do, Katsuki. Don’t go slacking now.”

Bakugou tenses, tail twitching in agitation. “And you should be lifting. Whose slacking now?”

Kirishima grins, but continues his work out. Bakugou huffs, but focuses more on spotting. Wouldn’t want the idiot to hurt himself.

Kirishima finishes up and heads for the showers, Bakugou waiting just outside the locker room for him on his phone.

He is not at all prepared for when a hand grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him into the locker room. He twists his body around, hands sparking as they come into contact with someone.

Someone with hardened arms.

Bakugou barely has time to blink, eyes landing on red hair, before he’s being lifted up and slammed into the wall. Bakugou’s teeth clink together, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching out to grab at Kirishima’s throat.

They stop for a second, breathing hard, red eyes meeting red. Then their lips are clashing together, teeth biting at lips. Bakugou’s hands tangle in Kirishima’s hair, pulling hard. Kirishima’s hands are under his ass, squeezing, before pulling at Bakugou’s legs, helping them to wrap around his waist. Kirishima grinds down at him and Bakugou fucking groans.

“Shit, Katsuki, do you know what it does to me to see you drooling over my muscles?” Kirishima growls. “How hard it gets me that you love the fact that I could manhandle you into any position I want? I could slam you against these lockers, fuck you into your slutty body, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

They both know that’s not completely true, that Bakugou would find a way to break free if he really wanted to, but right now, all Bakugou does is moan, yanking harder at Kirishima’s hair, lost to the images Kirishima paints.

Kirishima squeezes his ass, kneading the flesh there. “My second favorite part of your body, right behind your sweet tits. I especially love when it’s bouncing on my knot.”

Bakugou whimpers. He uses Kirishima’s hair to guide his mouth up into another kiss, no less desperate or hot. He tilts his head, drawing Kirishima deeper into the kiss, before pulling back to whisper against Kirishima’s lips. “I love your knot, love when it’s plugging me up, all your cum stuffed deep inside of me-”

Kirishima groans, eyes fluttering.

“You know what I love even more?” Bakugou asks.

“What?” Kirishima responds, body leaning even closer against Bakugou, eyes drifting down to Bakugou’s throat and chest.

“If you would just tell me what has gotten into you.”

Kirishima stiffens, before slowly looking up to meet Bakugou's eyes. Bakugou raises an eyebrow. Kirishima sighs. “I’m not getting any today am I?”

Bakugou raises his palm, his hand glowing. “Nope,” he says, popping the p.

After about another week and a half of this, Bakugou is done waiting. If the usual game isn’t going to get the job done, then he’s going to have to force Kirishima to tell him.

He is going to fucking break Eijirou if it kills him.

Bakugou stretches out, humming to himself. He has two meetings he needs to go to later today, but he rarely has this time to just sit back and relax.

Of course, relaxing for him means he’s still doing something. That something being yoga out in the living room.

He slowly moves his body from position to position, enjoying the slight burn. His ears perk up at the sound of the door opening, but besides that, he ignores his boyfriend, instead focusing on shifting his legs into the next position.

“Hey, babe, I brought lunch home,” Kirishima calls from the front door, where Bakugou knows he’s taking off his shoes before moving deeper into the house. “I thought we could eat together before you have to go- ach .”

Bakugou hides his smirk, shoulders shifting as he stands up. “Hey mutt, what’d you get?” He looks over his shoulder, showing his teeth at the sight of Kirishima standing frozen in the living room doorway, bags of food dangling in his hands.

Kirishima audibly swallows. “Uh, what are you doing?”

Bakugou snorts, turning away and moving to the next position. “What does it fucking look like? Yoga.”

“Yeah, but, um-”

“What? Does the cat have your tongue?”

“You’re naked,” Kirishima moans.

Bakugou looks down, as if this is his first time noticing his lack of clothes. “Huh. So I am.”

“ Why? ”

Bakugou shrugs. “Why not?” He bends down, his forehead touching his knees. He can practically feel the burn of Kirishima’s stare on his ass. “The sun is shining pretty bright today and you know how much I love to spread myself along the window sills to soak it up.”

His voice is practically a purr and he knows exactly what he’s doing, reminding the mutt of what happened the last time he was spread in front of the window, when Kirishima had been curled up behind him, both slowly rocking as the sun had warmed their skin.

Bakugou curls his tail, beckoning Kirishima’s eyes to follow along as he works his way through his routine. He can hear the other huff and panting, the mutt probably drooling.

“You’re torturing me here, Kat,” Kirishima says, sounding strangled.

“You know what you have to do if you want a piece of this,” Bakugou says. His hands, which had been wrapped around his ankle, slowly start to slide up his leg, gliding along the smooth skin.

“There’s nothing to-”

Bakugou shrugs, before turning around, coming face to face with Kirishima. He stalks his way forward, eyes half-lidded.

Kirishima might be holding his breath. Bakugou is pretty sure he’s not breathing.

And then Bakugou passes by him, brushing his shoulder, before heading up to their room. “Then I guess we’re done here. Let’s have lunch.”

The sound of Kirishima hitting his head on the wall echoes around the house.

Bakugou doesn’t do this often-

Ok, that’s a lie. He does do this quite often, but always in the privacy of their home. Rarely does he do it in public.

But by this point, he’s willing to pull out all the stops.

They’re back on patrol, walking around the 5th and 6th district, with the hot sun beating down on them. Bakugou curses. His gauntlets are already half-filled by this point, and he hasn't even done anything.

Kirishima taps on his shoulder, pointing to a stand selling water. They go over to buy some, only to have the vendor wave off their attempts to pay, thanking them instead for the jobs they do.

They go to stand to the side, in the shade, drinking their free water. Side-eyeing Kirishima, Bakugou casually leans against the wall and then pulls on the strap of his hero suit, as if he were trying to fan himself.

Kirishima glances over.

Then he does a double-take.

“Katsuki, no,” he says, almost in horror.

Bakugou innocently blinks at him. “What? I’m just drinking.”

But Kirishima is too focused on his bared shoulder to respond.

Bakugou looks down. “Oh, you mean the bra strap, huh? Yeah, I don’t know why, but I felt like dressing up a little today.” His fingers play with the baby blue strap, snapping it against his skin.

“Did-Is it a complete set?” Kirishima asks, tail wagging behind him, ears perking up.

Bakugou smiles, wide and all teeth. “Wouldn’t you like to find out.”

“You-you’re a monster,” Kirishima says.

Bakugou chuckles, pushing off the building. He rubs his head against Kirishima’s shoulder before pulling him back on patrol. “I know.”

It continues like that for the rest of the day, with Bakugou giving Kirishima little hints and peeks of the lingerie he wears underneath.

Kirishima follows after him, like a mutt on a leash, and more than once, walks into a civilian or doorway. Bakugou sits back and laughs at the way he goes red and sputters out excuses.

When they reach the agency, they both head back to the locker rooms to get changed out of their costumes. Bakugou barely passes the threshold, before he’s being grabbed, flipped, and pressed face first against the wall.

He sends a smirk at Kirishima. “What’s with you and manhandling me in locker rooms lately?”

Kirishima growls, low in his throat. “As if you don’t deserve it. You’ve been winding me up all fucking week.”

Bakugou bares his fangs. “And you haven’t been doing the same? I told you, Eijirou, all you have to do is tell me what’s been on your mind and then you can do whatever you want to me.”

Kirishima growls again, pressing close. He noses his way through Bakugou’s hair, huffing. “...I’m afraid you’ll think I’m weird or something.”

Bakugou pauses, before turning his head to rub it against Kirishima’s. “Eijirou, you never have to be afraid to talk to me about stuff. You know that, right?”

Kirishima drops his head against Bakugou’s shoulder, large arms wrapping around his waist. “I know but it’s...thoughts getting to me. Will you think it’s too weird, will you look at me differently, that sort of stuff.”

Bakugou reaches back to start to play with his hair. “You know I love you. You could say the weirdest shit to me and, maybe I might say the wrong thing at first, but nothing could ever make me stop loving you or thinking you’re too much for me.”

Kirishima is silent for a moment, squeezing tighter and inhaling Bakugou’s scent. Bakugou continues to play with his hair, fingers brushing against his ears, scratching right behind them in that secret spot that makes Kirishima melt.

“...M’ wanna breed you,” Kirishima finally mumbles.

Bakugou furrows his eyebrows. He feels Kirishima tense behind him and is quick to scratch that spot again, forcing him to relax. “Not that I’m saying it’s bad, but you know I can’t get pregnant right?”

“I know,” Kirishima says, still muttering into his shoulder. “I just...you know that girl, Doi? That you were playing with at last month’s charity function?”

“Yeah?”

“I saw you being all sweet with her and it was like I was suddenly hit with the image of you doing that to our daughter. And then other thoughts kept rolling in my head. You, holding our child. You, feeding out child. You, round with our child. And that eventually devolved into-”

“You trying to stuff as much of your cum into me as possible?” Bakugou asks.

Kirishima’s breath hitches. He digs his claws into Bakugou’s waist. “ Yessss . It’s consumed my thoughts. At this point, I don’t really care that you can’t have children, it’s all about the trying you know? I just want you to constantly sit on my knot, warm my cock, be a tight hot little cocksleeve.”

Bakugou bites his bottom lips, face flushing. “Damn, Eijirou. And you’ve been keeping this to yourself all this time?”

Kirishima lifts his head, catching Bakugou’s eyes. “You...you like that?”

Bakugou sniffs, looking away. “I mean, you’re the one whose saying all these dirty things. Of course I’m going to find that hot.”

Kirishima grins, pressing a kiss against Bakugou’s shoulder. Then he goes to whisper directly in Bakugou’s ear. “Yeah? You like the thought of you all fucked out on our bed, spread out, your hole wet and sloppy as I force my knot back in?”

Bakugou moans, low and heated. “You going to put a liter in me, mutt? Huh, you think you can?”

Kirishima rumbles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, and Bakugou doesn’t have time to react before Kirishima bits into his neck, leaving a large mark. Bakugou whimpers, grinding his hips back. Kirishima takes advantage of that, moving Bakugou’s waist back so he can grind on his ass.

“I know I can. Going to keep you stuffed, make your tits all fat with milk.” One of his hands reaches up to cup one of Bakugou’s pecs.

“With that weak knot of yours?” Bakugou grits out, trying hard not to fall apart as Kirishima gropes him. “Good fucking luck.”

“You challenging me?” Kirishima asks.

“What do you think?”

Their eyes meet, sparks flying between them, both of their mouths pulling back to show off their fangs.

The door opens and they jerk apart. An intern peeks their head in, whistling before coming to a halt. They stop and stare at Bakugou and Kirishima, both of their costumes wrinkled and messed up, their hair wild.

“Um,” they say.

“Get the fuck out,” Bakugou screams, hands sparking.

The intern eeps, scrambling back and out the door.

Kirishima sighs. “Bakugou-”

“Don’t you fucking start,” Bakugou snarls. He runs a hand through his hair, huffing, before catching Kirishima’s eyes again. “You want to take a half-day and get the fuck home?”

“Gods, yes.”

They burst through the bedroom door, wrapped around each other, Bakugou climbing Kirishima like a tree. They’re not really kissing, more like they’re trying to eat each other’s mouths.

Bakugou groans, pulling back. "Fuck, Eijirou." His claws dig into the skin on Kirishima's shoulder, making the other hiss.

Kirishima practically throws Bakugou down on the bed, red eyes blazing. He's quick to get himself undressed, tripping on his costume in his hurry to throw it on the ground.

Bakugou is right behind him, shimmering out of his pants, trying to peel himself out of his top too, when Kirishima grabs his ankles and yanks him down. Bakugou lets out a little sound of surprise as he slides along the bed.

Kirishima crawls over him, slow and predatory, eyes glued to the panties Bakugou is wearing. Bakugou tilts his head, spreading his legs and fingering the lacy edges. “Do you like what you see? Want to unwrap me like the present I am?”

Kirishima licks his lips, grinning. “Fuck yeah, babe. I want to see the entire picture.” He lifts one of Bakugou’s legs, kissing the side of his knee. He slowly kisses his way up Bakugou’s thigh, keeping eye contact, before biting into the meaty flesh. Bakugou’s breath catches and then Kirishima’s soothing the sting with a kiss.

He repeats the pattern a few more times, leaving marks along the way, before reaching the bulge in his panties. He spreads Bakugou’s legs wider, nuzzling the covered dick, before biting on the edge of the panties, pulling down just enough for the tip of Bakugou’s cock to slip out. Kirishima gives the tip a lick, cleaning up the precum there.

Bakugou can’t tear his eyes away, little moans being ripped from his throat. Kirishima gives him grin before backing off. “Let me open my pretty present.” His large hands wrap around Bakugou’s waist, lifting the tight fabric of his shirt up to reveal Bakugou’s abs, then even higher. Inch by inch, blue fabric is exposed for Kirishima to drink in. It’s lacy and sheer, doing nothing to hide the way Bakugou’s nipples stand erect and waiting.

Kirishima, because he can’t help himself, pinches one of the pink buds. Bakugou arches into the touch, silently begging for more. Kirishima manages to get the rest of the shirt off, also throwing it to the side, his hand never leaving Bakugou’s chest.

Bakugou throws an arm across his face, face flushed and eyes narrowed. Kirishima’s tail is wagging a mile a minute, dick hard and heavy. “Come on, you mutt, I thought you were going to breed me? Are you going to break your promise?”

That gets him another pinch, making him hiss. “So impatient, my pretty kitty. Let me enjoy the way you look before we get to the fun stuff.”

Bakugou snarls. “That’s funny coming from yo- ah fuck .”

Kirishima hums, still twisting Bakugou’s nipple before twisting it to the other side. “That’s a little better. Keep making those pretty noises for me and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fuck- ah -you,” Bakugou hisses. He withers against the bed as Kirishima continues to play with his body, his other hand reaching down to give Bakugou’s cock light little stokes.

“My perfect cat, you’re going to look so good, all-round with my liter.” Kirishima leans down to give Bakugou’s stomach a chaste kiss. Bakugou wiggles.

“Eijirou, come on.”

“Someone’s needy. I haven’t even fingered you open and you’re already begging for me,” Kirishima says.

Bakugou flushes. "We've haven't had sex for nearly two damn months."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

"Hmmm, is that so?" Kirishima asks, fingers dancing along Bakugou’s inner thighs as he slowly pulls Bakugou’s panties down his legs. “I wasn’t the one who started the sex ban.”

Bakugou sneers. “Really? Who was it that kept their dirty little fantasies to themselves- fuck .” Bakguou’s body jerks as Kirishima’s fingers tap against his hole, wet with lube.

Kirishima chuckles. “You’re always so loud, babe.” He slowly pushes one finger in, wiggling it.

“Maybe, uh, maybe you’re just too fucking quiet,” Bakugou says, fingers digging into the mattress.

“Now we both know that’s a lie.” Kirishima adds another finger, scissoring. He licks his lips. “You look so delicious, spread out on my fingers. I can’t wait till it’s my knot that you’re splitting on.”

Bakugou moans, thrusting his hips down. “God damn, you’re fingers are so fucking big, Eijirou. Come on, fuck me already.”

Kirishima clicks his tongue. “Patience, Katsuki. I want you open for me, so my knot can just slide right in." He adds another finger, croaking them, pressing against that special place, and smirks as Bakugou's eyes widen.

And then he mewls.

They both still, Bakugou slapping a hand over his mouth, face twisted in horror.

"Did you just-"

"No!" Bakugou instantly denies, face going cherry red.

Kirishima can feel Bakugou's hands heating up. He moves fast, grabbing those tiny wrists in his hardened hands and slamming them on the mattress, right above Bakugou's head.

"You did," Kirishima breathes. "Do it again."

"What- no. Fuck no." Bakugou tries to thrash, but Kirishima straddles his hips, hardening his skin to make it heavier.

Kirishima leans in close, till their noses are almost touching. "I'm going to make you make that sound again, Katsuki."

Bakugou shudders, but he refuses to back down. "Is that a challenge?"

Before he can blink, he's being flipped over, arms pulled behind his back, chest and face pressed into the mattress, ass raised up. Kirishima palms his ass, a light touch, before giving it an echoing smack. Bakugou gasps, going still.

"That's a promise," Kirishima whispers directly into his ear. He gives the fluffy appendage a bite, two fingers shoving their way back inside, searching for Bakugou's prostate.

He knows he finds it when Bakugou's body jerks, Bakugou moaning low and long. But it's not the sound Kirishima wants. So he continues to press his fingers against it, milking Bakugou.

Bakugou is squirming, but with Kirishima's large body covering his and those hardened hands keeping his wrists pinned, there's nowhere for Bakugou to go.

Every time he moves, it just forces his hips back down on those thick fingers. It makes his cock throb, precum dripping freely. He whines, throwing his head back. "Eijirou."

Kirishima kisses his sweaty forehead. "Come on, Katsuki. You know what I want."

Bakugou shakes his head, ears twitching, tail curling and unfurling around Kirishima's wrist. "N-No."

Kirishima tisks, squeezing a third finger in, jabbing it against his prostate. Bakugou's eyes widen, mouth falling open. He pants, hole twitching.

"My pretty kitty, won't you make your sweet noises for me?" Kirishima continues to whisper in his ear.

"It's embarrassing," Bakugou practically yowls, hiding his face in his arms.

"Not if it's with me," Kirishima says, stopping momentarily. He nuzzles Bakugou's hair. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about if it's just me here, right?"

Bakugou bites his bottom lip. Kirishima doesn't move, allowing Bakugou time to think.

Finally, Bakugou sighs. Then, almost too soft to hear, he mewls.

Kirishima's grin splits his face. He kisses Bakugou again and starts moving his fingers. "Good boy, that's so lovely, yes please keep making those noises." He spreads his fingers. "Louder, kitty cat, louder."

Bakugou is shuddering, body beyond hot, as Kirishima fucks him open. His sounds of pleasure increase in volume, Kirishima encouraging him along the way.

It doesn't take long at all before he's coming against the bed, Kirishima's fingers still moving. He pants, little shivers of aftershock rocking through him.

When he comes back to himself, it's to the feeling of Kirishima rubbing his cock against his ass. He lazily grinds back. "Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?" He mumbles. "I thought you were going to breed me?"

Kirishima bites into his shoulder, making Bakugou hiss. "If you can talk again, then I guess that means you're ready to be fucked."

Bakugou lifts his hips up, moving his tail out of the way to show off his stretched hole. "Come on Eijirou, fuck a litter into me."

Kirishima growls, low and heated. His cock presses against Bakugou's hole, sheathing himself inside that hot, wet heat. Bakugou cries out, the sound almost lost in the howl Kirishima let's out.

Kirishima wastes no time as he starts to thrust, hard and fast into Bakugou, hips slapping against his ass.

Bakugou whines, his moans being punched out of him with each thrust. Kirishima let's go of his wrists, his hand trailing down Bakugou's body to curl around his stomach.

"Can't wait to see you all fat with my seed. I'm going to make you sit on my knot all through your pregnancy."

"I want it, please Eijirou, please. Knot me, knot me."

"You're going to get your knot, patience." Kirishima brings Bakugou's hips up higher, so he can fuck into him deeper, his cock now slamming against Bakugou's prostate.

Bakugou is back to mewling, his cock growing hard again. He tears up the sheets, thrusting back against Kirishima. He can feel that fat knot bumping up against him, desperately trying to slip inside.

With every slam, Kirishima's knot spreads Bakugou open just a bit further, goes in just a bit deeper. Bakugou mewls and yowls through it, begging Kirishima with every other breath. His cock is fully hard by now, almost painfully so.

With one last, hard thrust, Kirishima pushes his knot fully in, locking them together. He snarls, biting into Bakugou's shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. One hand moves from his grip on Bakugou's waist to his cock, stroking him rough and fast.

Bakugou's eyes roll into his head, body going stiff. His orgasm is ripped out of him, joining his other release on the bed. He can feel warmth rushing into him as Kirishima cums, still slightly rolling his hips as Bakugou's hole milks him.

They stay like that for a minute or two, and then they collapse into the bed, boneless.

Kirishima turns them to the side, wiggling till they were in a more comfortable position as they wait for Kirishima's knot to deflate. Kirishima continues to pet and stroke Bakugou, singing him praises.

Bakugou shifts back slightly, settling into Kirishima's chest, hands drifting down to rest on his stomach. "So," he says after a moment. "Should we start looking at adoption agencies?"

Kirishima chokes.

#kiribaku #katsuki bakugou #eijirou kirishima #smuttish #hybrid au

15 notes · View notes

deliciousscaloppine · 4 years ago

Note

oh, qinghe harem please!

ONE MORE FRESH CHAPTER from QINGHE HAREM STORIES. No prompts in this one, but the next 2 chapters are prompt based.

In the world of fashion to achieve greatness, some sacrifice must be made...literally? Meng Yao and Huaisang go in search of fashion in the most unlikely place of them all. Cue Xue Yang.

Meng Yao lit a lantern and led the way, deep underground. It was cold and wet in the dungeons, and there were a great deal of spiders and centipedes crawling on the walls. They had been placed there by the previous patriarch of the Qinghe Nie for atmosphere.

“Why are we here, Meng Yao?” Huaisang shivered, clutching his fan. “If this is about the time I called you delusional, I take it back.”

“Look, are you or are you not in need of new attire?” Meng Yao snapped.

“I fail to see how we are going to procure a high fashion item in the dungeons, Meng Yao.”

Meng Yao smirked. “You'll find out soon enough.”

Descending to the final level of the prison, Meng Yao took him to the very end of the farthest corridor. Huaisang approached questioningly.

“There is no one here.” He almost remarked, when a loud clang rattled the bars of a cell. The dark outline of a silhouette peeled off from the general even darker darkness. A ghoulishly handsome face with a fangy grin came into the scant light of Meng Yao's lamp.

Huaisang skitted backwards only a tiny bit afraid. His renewed shivering was purely for atmosphere.

“Who is this?” He asked Meng Yao, behind his fan.

“A friend of mine, I am putting him up for the night.”

“If you are putting him up why is he in jail and not in any of the nice guest rooms upstairs?”

“Because he steals.” Meng Yao sighed.

“Hey! You over there, come here.” Xue Yang gestured.

Meng Yao nodded encouragingly. Huaisang approached, lifting his skirts a little so as to not dirty them in the murky puddles that littered this part of the fortress.

“That's so unsanitary. Dage should be informed about it.”

“Yeah, that's it, come closer” Xue Yang crooned. “I am not going to bite you.”

“He will absolutely bite you. Don't put your nose anywhere near him.”

Xue Yang put his hands on his waist and glared. “Man, you are absolutely no fun.”

“The little one is with me.” Meng Yao said, also approaching. “You know what we are down here for. One item of high fashion at the pre-arranged price.”

“This is a dangerous job, I am not going to do it for candy.”

Meng Yao pulled out of his sleeve a handful of candies, in a bright strawberry wrapper. “Not even for these? Brach's Strawberry Bon Bons?”

“Shit, fuck man...” Xue Yang said slamming the bars. “Were you holding out on me before?”

“You just do this one thing for us, and I'll set you up for life.”

Xue Yang stared them hard, then a smile quirked on his lips.

“No.” he said finally, and leered in Huaisang's direction. “I need something more substantial.”

Huaisang shivered again, and this time it was not for atmosphere.

“I am afraid, you will have to give him the most precious thing you have, Huaisang.” Meng Yao said.

“You wouldn't mean my painted scroll with the herons on a background of gold?” Huaisang said.

“No, I am afraid not.”

“Then my imported first illustrated edition of Genji Monogatari?”

“No, not that either.”

“Phew, good, I was not ready to part with it. Surely you can't mean my paper fan with original calligraphy by Huai Su”

“Come on, sweetlips” Xue Yang said looking around him impatiently. “Are you really going to make me say it. I know you are not as innocent as you want us to think.”

Huaisang looked down, sweat breaking on his skin.

“I want it. And you are going to give it to me.” Xue Yang breathed.

“Me-Me-Meng Yao, what did you bargain with this man?” Huaisang asked, a feeling of nausea unsettling his stomach.

Meng Yao's face was hard. Harder than anything Huaisang had ever seen. He must have known, he must have planned this beforehand. Huaisang felt utterly trapped.

“It's just a silly little pornbook.” Meng Yao said. “The garment Xue Yang is going to bring you is by far more valuable.”

“It's not just a silly pornbook. It's the first copy of the first edition, signed by the publisher and the illustrator with a personal dedication to me. You know I can't part with Rare Beauties Volume I. I just can't!”

“Oh, I guess then that you won't mind that Jiang Cheng will soon be the best-dressed man in Qinghe. You remember Qinghe? The place of your birth? The stronghold of your ancestors? You are already too weak to compete against him in cultivation, so you are giving up territory in which you are good at, just because it's slightly inconvenient to you? To achieve greatness, Huaisang, some sacrifice must be made!”

“Alright.” Huaisang said in a small voice. He was trembling and not because it was cold. With shaking hands he reached for the little parcel, kept always by his heart.

Xue Yang clicked his tongue. “I knew it! I knew you always kept it on yourself. That's why I could never find it!” he howled.

Huaisang wiped away a single tear and slipped the booklet between the bars. “You must promise me something.” he said. “You must never take it out of its original wrapper or it will lose its value.”

Xue Yang stared at him in disbelief. “You think I am going to risk my skin for a book and never read it?”

With one swift motion he tore the delicate tissue paper that covered the supple, silk cover of the book, and flipped rudely through its pages; wetting his thumb now and then with his sharp, fiendish tongue. Huaisang dared not think about where that tongue had priorly been.

“Nooooooooo!” he howled and fell in Meng Yao's arms. “How could you do this to me!” he cried. “You betrayed me! You took that which I loved most.”

Meng Yao's face distorted into a cruel, pained mask. “You grew up having everything! You never knew what it is to want!”

“Uhm, can you two give me some privacy. Rare beauties is now mine, and I would like to make the most of our time together.” Xue Yang said sitting down on his bench and unbuttoning his pants. “Come back in a couple of hours, so I can take your measurements.”

Huaisang and Meng Yao yelped and made to leave.

“I can't believe you pressured me into giving Rare Beauties to that ruffian!” Huaisang raged for three full days. “I only hope for your sake that he brings the prettiest dress in all the land. ”

A few nights later, Xue Yang finally appeared, holding what would be an utterly incospicuous parcel had it not been for some conspicuous red stain on it. He was also wearing cat ears for some reason.

“Ew, what is that!” Huaisang remarked.

Meng Yao quickly undid the string that held together the parcel, but he too hesitated to open it.

“Xue Yang.” he menacingly said. “He is supposed to be able to wear it. If it's an animal carcass, I swear-”

Xue Yang crunched grandma candy from the bowl Meng Yao had offered him and scoffed. “Hah!” he said. “If he was a true lover of fashion he could pull off appearing only in an animal carcass. But don't worry, it's waspy enough.”

Meng Yao pulled out an entirely white frock.

“It's white!” Huaisang remarked. “I have a million white frocks! Xue Yang-” he growled.

“Give it a twirl.” Xue Yang said crossing his arms.

Meng Yao passed the frock to him. Huaisang was quite upset, be he obliginly gave it a “twirl” in front of the mirror.

The plain, white brocade sparkled under his fingertips, blowing up in a pearly-gold iridescence that revealed hidden patterns of flowers, skulls, snakes and birds in black and white.

Huaisang fell down in shock. “That's wild!” He said clutching the most beautiful dress he had ever seen in his life. It was so him! And it was perfect. If he sat at the right angle, his Dage would not suspect a thing. It looked entirely like any other frock Huaisang owned, but when one turned, the patterns were revealed in shimmering, sparkling color. It was so bold, so exciting, so original!

“Am I the best, or am I the best?” Xue Yang boasted.

Meng Yao slow-clapped. “Well done, you've outdone yourself, Xue Yang.”

#qinghe harem stories #nie huaisang #xue yang #meng yao

14 notes · View notes

the-end-of-art · 4 years ago

Text

Sewn into his jacket an incoherent note

How to Make Love, Write Poetry, & Believe in God by Nin Andrews

A few weeks ago, I was part of a Hamilton-Kirkland College alumnae poetry reading, and after the reading a woman asked a simple question: “How do you write a poem?” I didn’t have an answer so I suggested a few books by poets like John Hollander, Mary Oliver, and Billy Collins. The woman said she had read books like that, but they didn’t help. She wanted something else, like a genuine operating manual—a step by step explanation.

I, too, love instruction manuals, especially those manuals on how to perform magic: write a poem or know God or make love, if only love were something that could be made. Manuals offer such promise. Yes, you, too, can enter the bee-loud glade and the Promised Land and have an orgasm.

I love the idea that my mind could be programmed like a computer to spit out poems on demand—poems with just the right number of lines, syllables, metaphors, meanings, similes, images . . . And with no clichés, no matter how much I love those Tom, Dick and Harry’s with their lovely wives, as fresh as daisies. I can set them in any novel or town in America, and they will have sex twice a week, always before ten at night, never at the eleventh hour, and it will not take long,time being of the essence.

I love sex manuals, too: those books that suggest our bodies are like cars. If only we could learn to drive them properly, bliss would be a simple matter of inserting a key, mastering the steering wheel, signaling our next moves, knowing the difference between the brakes and the gas pedal, and of course, following the speed limit.

A depressive person by nature, I am also a fan of how-to books on God, faith, happiness, the soul, books that suggest a divine presence is always here. I just need to find it, or wake up to it, or turn off my doubting brain. That even now, my soul is like a bird in a cage. If I could sit still long enough and listen closely, it might rest on my open palm and sing me a song.

God, poetry, sex, they offer brief moments of bliss, glimpses of the ineffable, and occasional insights into that which does not translate easily into daily experience, or loses its magic when explained.

In college, I took classes in religion, philosophy and poetry, and I studied sex in my spare time—my first roommate and I staying up late, pondering the pages of The Joy of Sex. As a freshman, I auditioned my way into an advanced poetry writing class by composing the single decent poem I wrote in my college years. The poem, an ode to cottage cheese, came to me in a flash as a vision nestled on a crisp bed of iceberg lettuce. Does cottage cheese nestle? I don’t know, but the professor kept admiring that poem. He said all my other poems paled by comparison.

This was in the era of the sexual revolution,long before political correctness and the Me-Too movement. My roommate, obsessed with getting laid, said we women should have been given a compass to navigate the sexual landscape. She liked to complain that she’d had only one orgasm in her entire life, and she wanted another. “What if I am a one-orgasm wonder?” she worried. The subject of orgasms kept us awake, night after night.

In religion class, my professor told the famous story about Blaise Pascal who had a vision of God that was so profound, his life seemed dull and meaningless forever afterwards. He never had another vision. But he had sewn into his jacket an incoherent note to remind him of the singular luminous experience.

The next day in religion class, a student stood up and announced that the professor was wrong—about Pascal, God, everything. The student knew this because he was God’s friend. He even knew His first name, and what God was thinking. The professor smiled sadly, put his arm around the student, and led him out of the classroom, down the steps and into the counselor’s office. When the professor returned, he warned us that if we ever thought we knew God, we should check ourselves into a mental institution. Lots of insane people know God intimately.

But, I wondered, what would God (or the transcendent—or whatever word you might choose for it: the muse, love, the orgasm, the soul, the higher self) think of us? For example, what would a muse think of a writer trying, begging, praying to enter the creative flow? All writers know it—that moment when inspiration happens. The incredible high. And the opposite, when words cling to the wall of the mind like sticky notes but never make it onto your tongue or the page.

What would an orgasm think of all the people seeking it so fervently yet considering it dirty, embarrassing, unmentionable? And then lying about it. “Did you have one?” a man might ask. “Yes,” his lover nods. But every orgasm knows it cannot be had. Or possessed. Or sewn into the lining of a coat. No one “has” an orgasm. At least not for long.

What did God think of Martin Luther, calling out to him in terror when a lightning bolt struck near his horse, “Help! I’ll become a monk!” And later, when he sought relief from his chronic constipation and gave birth to the Protestant Reformation on the lavatory—a lavatory you can visit today in Wittenberg, Germany.

I don’t want to evaluate Luther’s source of inspiration. But I do want to ponder the question: How do you write a poem? Is there a way to begin?

I think John Ashbery gave away one secret in his poem, “The Instruction Manual:” that it begins with daydreaming. Imagination. And the revelation that the mind contains its own magical city, its own Guadalajara, complete with a public square and bands and parading couples that you can visit this enchanted town for a limited time before you must turn your gaze back to the humdrum world.

But a student of Ashbery’s might cringe at the suggestion that poetry is merely an act of the imagination. In order to master the dance, one must know the steps. And Ashbery was a master. So many of his poems follow a kind of Hegelian progression, traveling from the concrete to the abstract to the absolute. Or what Fichte described as a dialectical movement from thesis to antithesis to synthesis. Fichte also wrote that consciousness itself has no basis in reality. I wonder if Ashbery would have agreed.

In college I wrote an inane paper, comparing Ashbery’s poetry to a form of philosophical gardening in which the poet arranges the concrete, meaning the plants or words, in such an appealing order that they create the abstract, or the beauty, desired. Thus, the reader experiences the absolute, or a sense of wonder at the creation as the whole thing sways in the wind of her mind.

Is there a basis in reality for wonder? Or poetry? I asked. Or are we only admiring illusions, the beautiful illusions the poet has created? How I loved questions like that. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of Fichte and Hegel and Ashbery and write mystical and incomprehensible books. I complained to my mother that no matter how hard I tried, I could not compose an actual poem or philosophical treatise—I was trying to write treatises, too. “That’s good,” she said. “Poets and philosophers are too much in their heads, and not enough in the world.”

I didn’t argue with her and tell her that not all poets are like Emily Dickinson. Or say that Socrates was put to death for being too much in the world, for angering the public with his Socratic method of challenging social mores, and earning himself the title, “the gadfly of Athens.”

Instead, I thought, That’s it! If I want to be a poet, I just need to separate my head from the world. Or at least turn off the noise of the world. And seek solitude, as Wordsworth suggested, in order to recollect in tranquility. I imagined myself going on a retreat or living in a cave, studying the shadows on the wall. Letting them speak to me or seduce me or dance with me.

The shadows, I discovered, are not nice guests. Sometimes they kept me awake all night, talking loudly, making rude comments, using all the words I never said aloud. “Hush,” I told them. “No one wants to hear that.” Sometimes they took on the voices of the dead and complained I hadn’t told their stories yet or right. Sometimes they sulked and bossed me about like a maid, asking for a cup of tea, a biscuit, a little brandy, a nap. One nap was never enough. When I obeyed and closed my eyes, they recited the poems I wanted to write down. “You can’t open your eyes until we’re done,” they said, as if poetry were a game of memory, or hide and seek in the mind. Other times they wandered away and down the dirt road of my past, or lay down in the orchard and counted the peaches overhead. Whatever they did or said, I watched and listened.

That’s how I began writing my first real poems. I knew not to disobey the shadows. I knew not toturn my back on them and look towards the light as Plato suggested—Plato who wanted to banish the poets and poetry from his Republic.I knew to not answer the door if the man from Porlock came knocking.

To this day I am grateful for the darkness. For the shadows it creates in my mind. It is thanks to them I have written another book, The Last Orgasm, a book whose title might make people cringe. But isn’t that what shadows do? And much of poetry, too? Dwell on topics we are afraid to look at in the light?

(https://blog.bestamericanpoetry.com/the_best_american_poetry/2020/09/how-to-make-love-write-poetry-believe-in-god-by-nin-andrews.html)

Five prose poems by Nin Andrews (formatting better at http://newflashfiction.com/5-prose-poems-by-nin-andrews/)

Duplicity

after Henri Michaux “Simplicity”

When I was just a young thing, my life was as simple as a sunrise. And as predictable. Day after day I went about doing exactly as I pleased. If I saw a lovely man or women, or beauty in any of its shapes and forms and flavors, well, I simply had to have it. So I did. Just like that. Boom! I didn’t even need a room.

Slowly, I matured. I learned a bit of etiquette. Manners, I discovered can have promising side effects. I even began carrying a bottle of champagne wherever I went, and a bed. Not that the beds lasted long. I wasn’t the kind to go easy on the alcohol or the furnishings, nor was I interested in sleep. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly men drift off. Women, many of them, kept me going night after night. You know how inspiring women are.

But then, alas, I grew tired of them as well. I began to envy those folks who curl up into balls each night, their bodies as heavy as tombstones. I tried curling up with them, slowing my breath, entering into their dreams. What dreams! To think I had been missing out all along! That’s when I became a Zen master, at one with the night. Now I teach classes on peace, love, abstinence. At last I have found bliss, I tell my followers. The young, they don’t believe it. But really, I ask you. Would I lie?

The Broken Promise

after Heberto Padilla, “The Promise”

There was a time when I promised to write you a thousand love poems. When I said every day is a poem, and every poem is in love with you. But then the poems rebelled. They became a junta of angry women, impossible to calm or translate, each more vivid, sultry, seductive than the next. Some stayed inside and sulked for weeks, demanding chocolates, separate rooms, maid service. Others wanted to be carted around like queens. Still others took lovers and kept the neighbors up, moaning at all hours of the day and night. One skinny girl (remember her? the one with flame-colored hair?) moved away. She went back to that shack down the road where we first met. At night she lay down in the orchard behind the house and let the dark crawl over her arms and legs. In the end even her dreams turned to ash and blew away in a sudden gust of wind.

Little Big Man

after Russell Edson “Sleep”

There was once an orgasm that could not stop shrinking. Little big man, his friend called him, watching as he grew smaller and smaller with each passing night, first before making love, then before even the mention of making love, then before even the mention of the mention of making love. Oh, what a pathetic little thing he was.

One night he tried reading, Think and Grow Big, but it only caused him to shrink further inside himself. Oh, to grow large and tall as I once was, he sighed. What he needed, he knew, was a trainer with a whip and chains. Someone to teach him to jump through hoops and swing from a trapeze and swallow fire until he blazed ever higher into the night. Yes, he shuddered. Yes! as he imagined it. A tiny wisp of smoke escaped his lips.

Questions to Determine if You Are Washed Up

after Charles Baudelaire, “Get Drunk!”

Do you feel washed up lost, all alone? Do you fear that time is passing you by like a train for which you have no ticket, no seat? That you have lived too long in the solitude of your room and empty mind, that now you are but a slave of sorrow? Or is it regret? Do you no longer taste the wine of life on your lips, tongue, throat? Is there not even even a chance of intoxication? Bliss? No poetry or song above or below the hips? No love in the wind, the waves, in every or any fleeting and floating thing? No castles in your air? No pearls in your oysters? Are you wearing a pair of drawstring pants?

Remembering Her

after Herberto Padilla

This is the house where she first met you. This is the room where she first said your name as if it were a song. This is the table where she undressed you, stripping away your petals, leaves, your filmy white roots and sorrows. And there on the floor is the stone you picked up each morning, the stone you clung to night after night. Sometimes she kicked it aside. Sometimes she placed in on the sill and blew it out the window as her presence filled you like a glow, and you thought for an instant, I, too, can fly.

#Nin Andrews #poem #poet #poetry

5 notes · View notes