#how does she still manage to be adorable while pulling such odd faces | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heavens-moonlight · 2 years ago

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𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟩 | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟫

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐀 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝟖𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 🫣 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬’ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 ‘𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭’ 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 ‘𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱’ 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞! 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐈'𝐦 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐮-𝐇𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞? 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠?♡

You can’t wipe the smile off your face after Su-Hyeok’s confession, your features permanently settled into perpetual bliss even as he joins the rest of the group and you head over toward Nam-Ra. Without fail, Su-Hyeok makes it his mission to catch your eye across the room, and every time he does, his face will just split into the biggest grin he can manage. To you, it’s the most adorable thing ever, the sight crinkling your eyes into crescents, like half-moons have risen above your cheeks as you shy away endearingly.

Nam-Ra doesn’t see you approaching, much too spaced out until you make your presence known as you kneel down and remove her hand still tied to the leg chair she was sitting on. “Are you guaranteed that’s safe for you to do?” She surveys you inquisitively, unsure.

“You’re my friend, above all things. I don’t see you as anything—anyone—else other than Nam-Ra.” Not allowing her a chance to list reasons as to why you shouldn’t be within proximal distance, you wrap your arms around her in a firm embrace, which she naturally returns, welcoming and heartfelt.

“How are you not fearful?” she probes, hugging you tighter.

“You’ve certainly not given me cause to, so unless you do, nothing has changed.” You pull away and jut out the camera cradled in your palm toward her.

Nam-Ra takes it gingerly, gazing up and down between the device and you. “What’s this for?”

You switch it on and curl her fingers around it. “We’ve all recorded video messages for loved ones.” When she still stares, indifferently, you elaborate. “It can be a diary in a way, for whoever might find these clips when we leave here. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Nam-Ra responds, “I want to.” She raises the camera up high to capture her face properly. “Hi, Mom. Remember when I told you about the only friend I made and you didn’t believe me?” The camera points toward you, and you bow, albeit virtually, for propriety’s sake. “This is her.” Nam-Ra shifts the camera back on herself, beaming faintly. “She’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had the pleasure of gaining, and I’m glad we met. You were right all along about me needing to be more outgoing and open to others, because if I knew just how many good friendships I missed out on all this while, I’d give anything for the chance go back and have a do-over. I hope to see you soon, and you can tell me ‘I told you so’ as much as your heart desires, okay, Mom?”

Not a second has passed since Nam-Ra turns off the device before her head swivels toward the door, her body following soon after, the red fabric still dangling from her wrist. You trail behind and wrap it around her wrist tightly, tying it off so it doesn’t get in her way.

“I overheard something odd.” Nam-Ra stands stagnant facing the door, and at the sound of her voice, everyone follows suit. Being the closest one, you strain your ears to make out what Nam-Ra is alluding to.

“What if she’s turning?” an unsettled Hyo-Ryung murmurs to On-Jo, indicating at Nam-Ra’s arm that’s now free from any sort of bind.

“I thought hambies didn’t morph?” Dae-Su speaks lowly into Hyo-Ryung’s ear, triggering her to shiver and jerkily lean away. How she didn’t notice his loud breathing next to her is beyond your comprehension.

“You scared me!” Hyo-Ryung pushes Dae-Su’s face the other way, the sound of contact between her hand and his chubby cheek making a loud plop, and you wonder how you missed out on such a comedic duo all this time.

“My bad,” Dae-Su apologizes, almost reflexively, still much too close.

“She’s alright,” you confirm resolutely, seeing On-Jo, Hyo-Ryung, and Dae-Su stare back at you like meerkats. “I’ll keep watch over her, don’t worry. I’m not scared.”

“I hear it,” Nam-Ra states softly, leaning forward even further.

You stand next to her, pressing your ear to the entrance. “It?”

She doesn’t answer for awhile, opting to gawk straight at the door, almost as if her vision can pierce through it entirely.

“What do you hear?” Curious, On-Jo ambles up beside you, being as quiet as possible, hoping to figure out the elusive sound.

Nam-Ra scrunches her eyebrows together, fixated. “Someone is puking, but they’ve long since stopped.”

You eye her in alarm. “Puking? You can hear someone vomiting all the way from here? Does that mean there’s still survivors aside from us?”

“Stop that,” Hyo-Ryung pleads. “You’re scaring me, Prez.”

“None of you guys hear it?” Nam-Ra glances in succession at all the faces looking back at her, serious in manner. “It’s so loud and clear…” she trails off.

Hyo-Ryung trembles as Nam-Ra sets her intense gaze on her. “What are you talking about?” The stare continues without letting up, only causing Hyo-Ryung to become exponentially startled. “What is it?”

“Are you…perhaps…nervous?” Nam-Ra takes a tiny step forward and Hyo-Ryung retreats, practically hiding behind Dae-Su.

“What’s wrong with you? Wh-Why are you like this suddenly?” Hyo-Ryung squeaks out, stammering.

“It’s just that out of everyone, you’re breathing the loudest.”

You grab Nam-Ra’s hand and she shakes herself out of whatever trance she was in. “I think the possibility is high that you have a mutated version of the virus, Nam-Ra. That would account for your heightened senses, despite still appearing normal.”

“Mutated?” On-Jo questions.

“Yeah,” you reply, “sometimes changing the nature of its mechanism can prove to be advantageous for viruses, but other times it can also end up with disadvantages. It all comes down to how the host—otherwise known as the living thing it infects—reacts as a consequence.”

“Well then, for our own good, I hope whatever variant I have is harmless around you guys and harmful against these creatures,” Nam-Ra decides. She winces momentarily, placing one palm against her ear as if that will stop external stimuli.

You squeeze her hand. "Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that."

When she can open her eyes once more, she turns your way, and nods, zeroing in on your pulse. “You have a strong and steady heartbeat.” Nam-Ra looks up, studying your face. “You’re really not afraid of me, just as you said.” There’s tender amazement in her tone, almost in disbelief at how your reaction is a stark contrast to everyone else’s.

“I think I’m desensitized by now,” you joke lightly, and she cracks a small smile.

“Even so,” Nam-Ra whispers out, “let’s get out of here. For some reason, this place feels strange; it gives me the creeps.”

“I’ll vote for the hambie intuition.” Dae-Su raises his hand, but seeing as no one else is doing the same, he awkwardly lowers it after Hyo-Ryung elbows him in the stomach.

“Cut it out, will you? That term isn’t going to catch on any time soon.”

“Not with that attitude it’s not,” Dae-Su childishly retorts.

“We can’t just leave,” Cheong-San addresses the room. “Even if we wanted to, this whole area is sprawling with zombies. It’s near impossible unless we want to jump into a suicide mission.”

Dae-Su huffs and throws himself down into a chair, whining. “We should’ve gone to the rooftop while we still had a chance earlier. Damn it, the music was a good cover for our escape too.”

“Music…” On-Jo undertones, more to herself at first. “Wait, that’s it! Dae-Su, you might just be on to something!”

“I am? Well, that’s a first,” Dae-Su jests, before On-Jo’s words catch up to him and be scratches his head in confusion. “What is it exactly that I’m on about?”

“We have music.” On-Jo starts looking around, not yet expanding on her train of thought.

“Music…where?” Dae-Su trails her movements as On-Jo goes to grab the camcorder Nam-Ra left on a tabletop earlier.

“This,” On-Jo holds up the device while speaking, “can be used to lure the zombies in with music.” She gestures around the room vaguely. “We’ll build a tall barricade in here, and take advantage of the fact that we’re in the music room. If we leave the door ajar, the undead will be drawn to the sound and flock in. Then, when the hallway empties, the back door will be our escape.”

“So,” Cheong-San begins, before proceeding to summarize On-Jo’s outlined plan, “you’re saying we should stack desk, chairs, and whatnot smack dab in the middle, open the door, and then run out through the other set of doors. Does that sound right?”

On-Jo shakes her head. “Not necessarily here, in the center of the room. I mean, a little further back closer to the sliding doors. We have to leave more room near the front of the class. Perhaps two-thirds of length before we build our barricade, leaving the other one-third in the interior.”

“Why is that?” Dae-Su queries.

“The zombies will outnumber us, especially if we’re trying to bait a whole corridor of them in here, not to mention any more that might come running from other floors nearby within hearing range.”

“I see.” Dae-Su nods appreciatively, acknowledging On-Jo’s explanation. “You know, you suck academically and aren’t technically considered book smart by any means, but you’re quite street clever.”

“Yah!” On-Jo exclaims, affronted. “Are you praising me or insulting me right now?”

Dae-Su looks away, tilting his head at Cheong-San to give him the slip.

“It’s a compliment,” Cheong-San settles before quickly moving on. “Let’s give your idea a shot, On-Jo. We can think about the rest later.”

“Since there’s a TV in here already mounted, we can connect it and blast the music at full-volume,” Joon-Yeong proposes. “We have to dig for the cord, though.” He gets up before turning around and requesting, “Ji-Min, can you help me look?”

“Sure.”

“Me too,” Hyo-Ryung offers, going along with the two.

“Alright, it can’t hurt to try!” Dae-Su claps his hands together once, enthusiastically. “We need to hurry and make good time before more of them group up outside.”

Nam-Ra is surprisingly great at locating random makeshift objects in the room for anything even remotely useful that could go toward building the barricade, shadowing you around the classroom as the two of you tag-team to lift tables while everyone else scatters to move chairs. The guys are tackling heavier furniture such as bookshelves and cabinets, standing them all vertically for better protection.

On-Jo is piling chairs on top of one another while Cheong-San gapes wistfully after her like a lost puppy as she inadvertently paces past him, much too engrossed in her task to notice him blatantly looking at her. You shake your head as you see him sigh, crushed, and makes to walk the other way after not being able to say anything to On-Jo.

“They latch on in swarms, so make sure to load everything securely in case it topples over, or onto us.” Su-Hyeok’s inborn headship skills help to keep the group in check and working in a timely manner. As he moves past you, he pats your head affectionately before promenading the other way to oversee the boys’ progress.

“Well, about that…” Dae-Su pauses with a large chair hoisted above his head, uncertain of the correct placement.

“You can fill the empty spot over there.” Joon-Yeong peeks over the top of the rising wall, pointing toward the middle with a wide enough space.

“Will do!” Dae-Su easily and swiftly slots the chair in between two tables and goes to grab more, all thanks to Joon-Yeong’s helpful eye from the other side of the barrier.

Beside you, On-Jo and Cheong-San are using extra cords and ropes to fasten chair legs to table legs.

“Let’s tighten these, here,” Cheong-San advises, holding a few furniture pieces together for On-Jo to tie.

“Like this?” You watch as On-Jo accidentally brushes her hand against his where she’s trying to feed a white cord of rope through the openings of his fingers to get to the chair legs.

“Uh…yeah,” Cheong-San agrees awkwardly, his face taking on a slight pink hue when On-Jo doesn’t remove her hand fully, even after having finished knotting the ropes.

You watch amused, speculating if On-Jo is doing it on purpose or if she’s merely enjoying teasing him, seeing as how she can barely fight off the grin trying to stretch its way across her face. Leaving them to their own task, you slide through one of the few open spaces left in the makeshift fortress, squeezing between two tables in search of the instruments needed later for distraction as On-Jo mentioned earlier.

You locate the music class’s now abandoned drums in the corner, but they’re much larger and heavier than you imagined, even if they’re inherently mostly hollow.

“Do you need help?”

You turn your head to the side, noticing Su-Hyeok standing with arms akimbo.

“Actually, yeah. You have perfect timing.” You smile, raising a hand to gesture at the biggest and roundest drums in the collection. It’d probably work the best as well, since it’ll make a deeper, reverberating sound. “Could you give me a hand?”

“My pleasure,” Su-Hyeok reacts quickly, reaching over to grab your hand, holding it tightly.

“You’re cute, but that’s not what I meant,” you say in between chuckles.

“I know.” Su-Hyeok smirks down at you while swinging your joined hands back and forth casually. “I wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

“You’ve never needed one before.”

You don’t notice Cheong-San behind you both until he walks straight through between yours and Su-Hyeok’s interlaced hands playfully, as he turns and walks backwards toward the drums, facing both of you. “Since you guys are so good at this, can you flirt and woo the zombies so that they don’t chase after us?”

You glare humorously at Cheong-San, and he simply laughs it off. “Are you going to offer assistance, or just stand there and mess with us?” Crossing your arms, you fix him with the fakest stern look you can produce.

“Of course, I’m here to help. Who do you take me for?” Cheong-San effortlessly lifts the largest cask and makes to leave, but not before he peers around the edge of the drum sitting in his arms, nearly covering his whole face. “You know, if I was none the wiser, I’d mistake you two for a couple. I know you’re not, but I approve either way.” He smiles sincerely, and leaves without another word, leaving you and Su-Hyeok to transfer the rest of the instruments, laughing together at how clueless your friend is.

You grab enough drumsticks and bring them over to Nam-Ra behind the fortification, letting her set up in the corner while you go find On-Jo. Joon-Yeong and Su-Hyeok are busy working to connect the television, endless cables surrounding them. Despite the zombie under the piano having its face covered, Joon-Yeong still actively avoids it as much as possible every time he catches sight of it, his whole body leaning away in the opposite direction.

Pulling aside the red curtains barely a fraction of an inch, On-Jo previews out the windows.

“How does it look out there?” You stand and watch as her features contort in attentiveness, estimating.

“There’s a lot of them loitering still, so it seems like enough to bait in here and clear out the hallway.” She closes the curtains and inspects the classroom, satisfied. “I think this is as good as it’s going to get.”

Linking her arm through yours, she leads you toward the blockade where Dae-Su has just climbed over using the chair Cheong-San dragged over prior, serving the purpose of a step stool. Cheong-San and Su-Hyeok have already scrabbled over long ago and are within the barricade, now completely sealed up.

Cheong-San helps On-Jo over, and Su-Hyeok places his hand out for you to take as you leap over a table down to the inside, surprisingly more spacious than you expected. Cheong-San then ascends again, much to everyone’s confusion.

“Where are you going?” On-Jo asks, apprehensive. “Come back over here with me.”

Cheong-San refuses, partly remorseful. “Someone has to open the door, though.”

“Does it have to be you?” On-Jo gazes at him with wavering eyes, trying her best to catch a glimpse of him over the tall counters.

Dae-Su laments loudly next to her. “Yah,” he nags, “couldn’t you use your head a little better?”

On-Jo whips around, glowering. “You were the one who commended the idea earlier!”

“It’s nothing. I’ll open it quickly and be back before you know it.” Cheong-San is about to head to the sliding doors when Su-Hyeok stops him.

“Hold up, I’ll go with you.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Cheong-San assures, seeing the distressed look on your face.

“No, it’s not,” Su-Hyeok says with finality. “You can’t shoulder everything on your own, Cheong-San."

As Su-Hyeok prepares to hike back across to the other side, you grab onto the cuff of his blazer. “Wait, Su-Hyeok.” He turns to you, waiting to hear what you have to say. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I will.” He fleetingly leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering briefly, before vaulting over an upended table and landing next to Cheong-San soon after.

You and On-Jo stand side by side, observing the boys as they grasp the few remaining chairs and multiple hefty wooden speakers to wedge the opening with. Su-Hyeok has his hand on the doorjamb, ready to yank it back as he steers Cheong-San back toward safety. Reluctantly, Cheong-San steps away and nods, giving his friend the signal to commence.

Just as Cheong-San hops over, you hear the loud bang of the sliding door being thrown open, biting the inside of your cheek tensely as Su-Hyeok all but runs for his life.

The throng of zombies hear the sound, as intended, and surge inside, knocking the few obstacles at the foot of the door aside easily, tripping over one another.

By the time Su-Hyeok has scaled the barricade and lands both feet down next to you, more and more zombies have filed in, enticed by the choir’s singing that Joon-Yeong is playing from the camera in his clutch, pounding desks to amplify the sound with his free hand.

“Shit!” You hear Dae-Su cuss as he, Cheong-San and Su-Hyeok throw their body’s weight against a towering oak bookshelf to keep the zombies at bay on the opposite side. Regardless of how sturdy it is, the zombies are amassing in great numbers. Everyone is immensely struggling as you run around trying to deflect anything that’s tumbling from overhead so that no one faces a concussion, because frankly, that’s the last thing that should happen.

Shortly after no more loose objects rain down, you’re leaning your back against another cabinet, eyeing the zombies reaching over one another above you warily, even though they can’t quite scale the entire height. As they swing their arms, vying for a sliver to attack, the force of their efforts jangles the defense, the motion jostling, as you try to dig your heel into the floor to keep balance.

“There’s still zombies outside!” On-Jo agitatedly voices. “Dae-Su! Make some noise!”

“Noise? What kind of noise?” Somehow even in this situation, there’s no mistaking the suggestive tone in Dae-Su’s question.

“Not THAT kind of noise!” you grit out, trying to hold the tables upright. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Dae-Su!”

“Right!” Dae-Su sucks in a deep breath before bellowing at the top of his lungs, “HEY YOU ZOMBIE BASTARDS!!!!”

His shout is leagues louder than the incessant growls, but On-Jo prompts for a repeat.

“One more time!” She raises her hand toward him, signaling to increase the volume even more, if possible.

“COME AT US, YOU DEAD FUCKERS!!!”

Behind you, On-Jo and the girls start hitting cymbals, gongs, drums, and anything else that’s remotely considered a percussion instrument madly and erratically. With On-Jo having temporarily abandoned post, Wu-Jin takes over, assessing the situation outside.

“Wu-Jin!” Cheong-San hollers as he clenches his teeth and pushes against the undead flock once again with more fervor than before, the group of creatures having doubled since the initial run-in.

“Not yet! Hold out just a little more!” Wu-Jin’s shaking in his shoes, glancing back and forth between the window and your little group, regretful and hysterical at the same time. You can tell by the telltale wobble in his voice that he’s afraid this might be for nothing, sweat evidently beading on his hairline as he jitters uneasily.

Wood splinters piercingly near the front of the class, zombies outright pouring into the space, lobbing the sliding doors completely off the rails.

On-Jo is doing everything in her power to keep zombie hands away from everyone’s heads, especially Cheong-San’s. You see them share a mutually telepathic look, and there’s so much left unsaid in that moment.

“Watch out!” Su-Hyeok jolts toward you, nearly pressing you against the cabinet in his haste to stab a zombie with a folded metal music stand, shielding you in his arms. A finger length of a stretch, and the zombie would’ve had you.

Su-Hyeok releases you but presses in close, the two of you plastering your backs against the cabinet doors and pushing against the mountain of zombies, refocusing with whatever’s left of your strength.

“I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve put your life in danger because of me,” you barely get out, panting from exertion.

"You’re my everything, so let me be here for you in the one way I know how."

You can’t reply as the cabinet knocks back harder than before, almost forcing you to fall forward on your face. Even Su-Hyeok is slipping from his stance, his feet skidding on the floor before he presses his heels back against the corner of nearby desks, lowering his center of gravity.

“IT’S GOING TO FALL!” Hyo-Ryung screeches, flustering, but still not giving up.

“FUCK!” Wu-Jin lets out an aggravated howl from his spot by the window, on the brink of pulling his hair out.

“How much longer?” Dae-Su groans. “When can we fucking go?!”

“Almost! Hang on!” Wu-Jin sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, beyond stressed at having to tell his friends to wait while his only responsibility is to keep watch. To you, both are equally as important because a slight miscalculation and everyone could potentially be in a face-off with zombies in the hallway and the classroom.

You squeeze your eyes shut and spare the last burst of energy in your body toward holding out for dear life, the reverberations rattling your spine and snarls echoing in your ears. Grunts and yells come from every direction as all around you, your friends’ vigor depletes.

Only a little bit of time has passed, despite feeling like eternity, before Wu-Jin gives confirmation. “It’s clear! We have to go now!” The raven-head gathers spare music stands in his arms should makeshift weapons be needed, and hastens the girls to exit the room first.

Su-Hyeok pushes you lightly but firmly toward the back door and you grab On-Jo’s hand as you throw one last look at him.

“Cheong-San!” On-Jo calls out, the beginning of tears apparent in her eyes.

“Come on, On-Jo, we have to go. They’ll be right behind us.” You try your best to console her, even as you worry for the three boys left in the room.

“Go!” Cheong-San directs at Dae-Su.

“No, you first!” Dae-Su exclaims. Seeing Cheong-San hesitate, he emphasizes further, “I think I’m going to shit myself if you don’t hurry and leave! You too, Bare-Su!”

Su-Hyeok looks torn, but ultimately doesn’t want to waste any more precious time, hastily grabbing both you and On-Jo, pulling you two down the hallway. A little farther back, Cheong-San has Dae-Su by the collar and drags him along, the classroom that was once a sanctuary now left behind, a new home for the zombies.

Your group is making good time on the stairs as Su-Hyeok ushers everyone to go before him. On-Jo waits for Cheong-San to catch up and latches onto his hand tightly, not letting go.

Unexpectedly, Su-Hyeok trips, and you pivot back around to give him a hand. “Let’s go!” He squeezes back in thanks, and sprints alongside you all the way up to the rooftop door, only to find it sealed shut.

Cheong-San is alternating between kicking, shoving, and yanking, to no avail. “It’s locked,” he says dejectedly.

“What?!” Incredulous, Dae-Su gives it a go, throwing his whole body, flesh against metal so hard that it rattles, but disappointingly, the exit doesn’t give way.

“Wait,” Cheong-San interjects. “Step aside.” He promptly moves over to the keypad located on the left and attempts to bypass the security system, typing in random combinations that all result in the same dead end: no access.

The rooftop is off limits to students. Your eyes hover over the words as everyone grows more desperate by the minute, impending doom barely a foot away.

“Is anyone there?” Joon-Yeong screams, pounding both fists against the door. “Anyone?” He repeats. “If there is, please, please, open the door for us!”

Su-Hyeok casts occasional glances down the stairwell, restless, and you place your hand over his where it’s gripping the banister railing tightly, hoping to give him even the slightest peace of mind.

When no one answers from the other side and you’re all running out of options, Wu-Jin and Dae-Su goes shoulders-first, crashing against the door once again, relying on determination alone. Staring at the door, you feel as though there could be someone on the other side. Something in your gut tells you that there is, but you have no way of validating your gut-feeling, so you settle for burning a hole into the door with your gaze, yearning that wishful thinking was anything but an attribution of reality.

“I hear breathing…” Nam-Ra suddenly utters to you.

“You what?” You turn to her, eyes wide.

Before she can answer, Cheong-San and Su-Hyeok run down a few steps, music stands lifted at the ready. You watch over them, trepidation making your hands quiver. Nothing is worse than waiting, but it’s a thousand times more nerve wracking when you don’t want to wait for what you know will inevitably come.

“They’re here.” Nam-Ra snaps her head toward where the two boys are standing, and true to her word, not even a second later, a cacophony of rumbles erupt, the creatures stampeding up the stairwell.

Door will open automatically in case of fire.

“Fire! That’s it!” Exasperated faces stare back at you, equal parts curious. “Does anyone have a lighter we can throw up at the sprinkler? All emergency stairwells will unlock if we stage a fire!”

“I do,” Nam-Ra replies to everyone’s shock, digging through her skirt pockets.

“Cheong-San! Incoming!” Su-Hyeok’s warning pulls you back to the scene of action, glancing down to see Cheong-San sprawled on his back fighting off zombies as another horde drives Su-Hyeok against the wall. They’re both saving each other by close calls, and you’re all running out of time.

“Nevermind,” you backpedal. “My plan can wait, but they can’t.” You point to the boys as Nam-Ra grabs a waterproof tarp from the side, leftover from construction most likely.

“Let’s throw this over!” Nam-Ra flings the large blue canvas and swings it in a near perfect arc to drape down from the floor above. You and the rest of the girls rush to hold onto it, evenly spaced apart as Joon-Yeong, Wu-Jin, and Dae-Su continue their relentless attack on the door still.

“Don’t let go and pull tight!” you suggest, looking over the handrail down below to gauge the outcome.

For the time being, it’s effective, allowing Cheong-San and Su-Hyeok some leeway so that they’re not constantly fighting off the creatures aside from the ones that manage to slip through undetected.

You squint as you see the cover being flung upward, a female zombie levitating up the stairs, held suspended in midair by someone.

“Are we saved?” On-Jo shuffles beside you, raking her sight over to see who has the creature in a chokehold.

For the first time in a long time, you see true terror reflected in Cheong-San’s eyes as someone looms before him, slowly ascending.

There’s no mistaking the bloody silhouette.

“No…” you pause, breath caught in your throat. “We’re doomed.” Your grip tautens on the thin, rough sheet in your hands, fingers pressing inward so hard you can feel nail marks embedding itself into the flesh of your palm.

The tall figure turns around, looking right at you with a cheshire grin turned sinister, baring teeth smeared red.

Gwi-Nam.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟩 | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟫

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Ｔａｇｌｉｓｔ

@american-sataness @ashrocker123 @baxdra369 @bigtuffswordboy @cosmicwintr @crimson-butterfly16 @darlingimafangirl @dayfyre @dramasmarvel @elicheel @ellesalazar @elysl1an @eternallyvenus @gangsterranger @gardenwn @girlontheblock @heartsforhyeju @huang-the-geek @l-ryuzakitwenty-four @ikissvernon @imonlyhereforfanfic @imvivian @itsmesofia @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @iwachansupremacy @izrosei @jaxavance @jisangtome @kaitsubaki @kayleenjinnie @kierd @laugh-like-the-moon @lexaa01 @lilithdame @lovepoisons @luvelyxp @meliade-ot @missmollya @musicshylover @nostalgisters @oldiezbutgoodies @onlythebest-106 @rmeddar123 @sageknoxious @sanaenjoyyer @smoooore @snow-strawberry @suminnature @sunaispretty @sunweee @superbfishhumanoidweasel @supersanelyromantic @teenagefunfury @tenkos4lifer @thege3k @tita004 @totomoshi @tsukibabyy @underlinedkasis @vesrin @voidcupidz @winchester-petrova @woderfulkawaii @yourwonderbelle @4risu

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐱’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

#suhyeok x reader #su hyeok x reader #lee su hyeok x reader #all of us are dead #aouad #aouad x reader #lee suhyeok #suhyeok fanfic #lee su hyeok fanfic #lee suhyeok fanfic #x reader #reader insert #female reader #zombie apocalypse #gone in the morning

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hakkais-hoe · 3 years ago

Note

Hey this might be a stupid idea but it amuses me to no end so here we are. You know those phrases you often say to little kids (ex. "Sockie-wockie" and shit like that.) So imagine bubbily little wife of big scary bonten excutive (Sanzu, Ran, and Rin if you cant do all of them) going around saying shit like that to herself cuz its just in her vocab. So imagine infront of everyone she asks her husband if he wants a 'snacky wacky' too while shes up to get things. Sorry if this is stupid, I just really like the idea of saying shit like this to big scary gang dude infront of the gang without batting an eye or realizing.

Awe this is well cute!!

So I was thinking of having the s/o as someone who works with young children so there’s like a reason behind the way they speak 😊

Hope this is kind of what you wanted :)

Age rating: none

Warnings: pure fluff, simps, swearing

Characters: Haitanis, Sanzu, kokonoi.

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Ran Haitani: The Soft One.

Wholeheartedly thinks it’s adorable

Sometimes even does it back to you without thinking

Smug little bitch even when your almost baby talkin him

Having the leading men of Bonten around at your apartment had become common place within the past few years, if they weren’t there by the time you finished work you’d honestly be quite concerned. So it wasn’t a surprise for you to come home on a Friday night to a house full of loud n slightly drunk men. Your husband being the first to notice you throws long lanky arms out wide with a shout of joy.

“Y/n baby!! I missed you dollface, how was work??” Rans voice bellows throughout the room, laughs and ‘hellos’ are thrown around from the rest of the men as you make your way to the kitchen for a drink.

“It was fine love, how’s your day been? Not too busy I hope. Do you want a snacky-wacky before we go out?” You coo back from the open kitchen, already too busy pulling food out to notice the deathly silence blanketing the room.

“Uh bro… did they just?…” Mochis voice is hesitant and kind of shocked, mostly at the fact that you’ve just baby talked the 6 foot odd man, one of the most feared men in all of Tokyo.

Yet when the men all turn to look at the slug nr lu tipsy man all they can see is the pure unadulterated adoration spreading across already flushed cheeks.

“Mhm yes please doll.” Rans voice is a light hum as he shuffles past the others and into the kitchen to meet you.

Rindou Haitani: The Easily Flustered

Secretly likes it but acts like he hates it in company

Can be a grumpy bitch if you do it too much

After a long day at work all you wanted to do was come home to a loving husband and a quiet home, but did you get that? Definitely not, how could you when your husband is one of the most notorious members of a criminal organisation.

The house was rampant with the shouts of men arguing and screaming at one another about god knows what. You could practically feel your blood pressure rising, the need for a drink quickly settling in.

“Rindou… Rin! Hello!?” You shout, your voice manages to silence the rambunctious gangsters taking up all of the couches. Rindous eyes find your own, he’s on the phone as usual, he makes a gesture and carry’s on the conversation as everyone says hello to you.

You sigh but walk off to the other room to change and put your bags down before making your way back through the house and into the kitchen, dead set on getting your favourite drink.

“Rindou? Do you want a drinky-drink?? Baby?” Your singsong voice calls out, hoping he can hear you above all the noise.

“What the fuck!? I told you not to use that stupid baby talk shit with me!… y/n are you listening to me!?” You grin at his little outburst knowing you’ve annoyed him, but hey you still got his attention.

He rounds the corner into the kitchen, his face bright red as he glared down at you, embarrassed to hell with the display you just put on. You can here the snickers from the other men in the living room. His flustered face and almost quivering lip look down at you then away again, you hun back at him in question.

“… yes… I do… gimme…”He mutters under his breath before pulling you in for a hug and another complain about your way of using words to embarrass him.

Sanzu Haruchiyo: The Simp

Actually likes it because he likes being babied and mollycoddled, maks up for the childhood he lost almost (not in a regression kinda way tho)

Can and will play on it to make you look after him more

It was rare that Sanzu would text you to come to the office instead of heading straight home after you finished work, but here you are.

You’d stopped to buy some snacks, drinks and a heat patch for your husband already sensing that he may be in a foul mood or be hurt. You try to hide your excitement as you throw open the communal room door but how could you when you get to see Haru after hours of being apart.

In front of you sits all the bonten execs plus Mikey and slap bang in the middle is a sulking Haruchiyo, he’s already pouting and whining before you cross the threshold.

“Honeyyyyyy!!! I fell!! I actually fell! I think I’ve broke my back it hurst so muchhhh!! They keep laughing at me they’re not even helpin!” Sanzu wails from the table his laid across, you can’t tell if they’re fake but tears start to well up in his pretty eyes, his lip starts to wobble and then he goes the full mile and reaches for you in an almost grabby hand form.

“Awe nooo my poor Haru!! What ever shall we do, do you need a snacky-snack? Or a nice heatie pad? Cmon love let me have a look at you~” You coo back to the dramatic lanky man. Pulling up the back of his shirt you can see a light bruise over his lower hip but you know what he’s just knocked it and it’s clearly not broken. You smile at his little sniffles as you apply a heating pad and some gel.

“Thank ya honey… love ya s’much m’ baby…” His voice is quiet and gentle as he munches on something from the bag. The others around you can’t even look at the two of you, you know they feel awkward but they should have helped him instead of taking the piss so you dont feel too bad.

Kokonoi Hajime: The Aggressive One

Aha yeh no

Don’t even do it he hates it with a passion

Actually gets pissed off if you do it and expects an apology later on 🙄

Is a little bitch about it

This man shuts you down straight away.

Rindou and Ran had come over during the day to go over some of the books with Koko on his day off, they were still there when you returned home that night. Their voices were so quiet as they all muttered random numbers at one another.

“Good evening gentlemen! Hope those books and numbers are full!” You call successfully snapping them out of their work daze. Koko leans back and reaches for your arm as you pass by him, your hands slide across each other in a familiar silent greeting untill something about him catches your eye and you gasp.

“Sweetheart you have no sockie-wockies on! You’ll catch a cold like that these floors are solid oak and there’s no heating under them!!” You scold like he’s a petulant child from work.

He’s slow to look at you but once he does he looks in pure disbelief at your phrase.

“No, just no. Leave the weird work speech at the door I’m not one fo your kids.” He hisses, snake like eyes shooting lasers in your side as you walk away with a snicker and a grin, Ran and Rin sit doing the same thing.

“That’s embarrassing man glad I’m not you~” Ran coos.

“Fuck off outa my house shit face.”

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Taglist: @loonashadow @honeybachira @bontensbabygirl @roppongiperfume @reiners-milkbiddies @sunahyejin @soushswag @wakasagurl @haitink

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 4 years ago

Text

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons. Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie.

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth.

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink.

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list.

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.”

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter.

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart.

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly?

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist.

Bliss.

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip.

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare.

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.”

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens.

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine.

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut.

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon?

It’s worth the mess.

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener.

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display.

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor.

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department.

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down.

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally.

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.”

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace.

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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sapphicwhxre · 4 years ago

Text

behind closed doors

♡ pairing: harry potter x reader x ginny weasley

♡ summary: ginny wants to add a third person to her sex life with harry and you make them both glad he said yes.

♡ requested: yes | no

♡ warnings: oh my god it's FILTH ─ swearing, threesome smut, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, fingering, vaginal sex, praise/possession kink, scissoring, overstimulation, nipple play/praise, cum slut stuff but i got no clue what to tag that as. also i didn’t proofread or edit because if i reread any of this shit i know it won’t get posted LMAO

it was funny, really.

everyone thought the chosen one was this awkward, inexperienced git when it came to sex. and they all thought the youngest and only girl of the weasleys must be this pure little princess. but, they were oh so wrong and you knew that first hand.

you knew because harry was almost at his breaking point. he didn’t think there was anything as precious or plain sexy as ginevra weasley but merlin, did she have some odd kinks. he’d do them all for her, even enjoyed some of them. but this one had harry redder than dragon breath.

“ginny, i don’t want another guy with his hands on you when we’re being intimate!”

finally snapping, harry was flushed and frustrated. it was the second time ginny had brought up the possibility of bringing another person into their bedroom and harry did not see the appeal. the weasley girl perked an eyebrow, however, and laughed.

“who said anything about a guy, dear?” ginny toyed with a charm on the bracelet you’d given her and shook her head. “you know my friend, y/n, don’t you?”

the boy’s eyes widened behind his glasses and his mouth went a bit dry. “yes,” was all he managed, trying to remember what house you were even in. what he did remember was that you were quite the sight to look at.

ginny grabbed harry's hand, “we had a bit of a thing before you and i. she’s a fun person, she’d do it without any strings attached.”

how had harry had no idea that his girlfriend had been sleeping with y/n? and why did the idea of letting her into the equation arouse him so much? although surprised that ginny felt absolutely no jealousy or even batted an eye at the situation, he found himself grinning when ginny did at his sudden nod.

this was how you’d ended up with harry potter’s cock buried in your pussy while your face was in ginny’s. and right now, it wasn’t very funny at all. what it was fell under the category of fucking like heaven.

“oh, good girl, just like that, y/n!”

ginny moaned with her head thrown back. her eyes were rolling back into her head with every moan she heard from her boyfriend paired with the warm vibrations of yours meeting her pussy. “look so pretty, taking harry’s cock for us,” you responded to her dirty praise by a finger into her dripping cunt, your tongue still assaulting her folds and your ass in the air. she moaned even louder and barely made eye contact with harry, who was still thrusting into your clenching walls. “so good, y/n... blimey, gin, she’s so tight,”

“and ours,” the panting girl added, her hands now gripping your hair messily. “our pretty little slut, in’t that right, harry?” he agreed with a rather distracted grunt but ginny was too occupied to respond, screaming as you put your fingers as deep into her as you could, curling and pumping while your tongue kept adoring her clit. “oh, y/n, y/n, y/n,” it was impossible at this point to tell whose moans were whose and who was saying your name louder, but either way it was addicting.

“f-fuck!” you babbled incoherently, harry and ginny's names both getting lost on the way out of your mouth. harry burst into you with a final, shallow thrust, moaning like a porn star. your orgasm clenched your stomach and your walls tightened around harry’s dick while you came, the white liquid seeping out into ginny’s view. your breathy moan was hot on ginny’s throbbing pink pussy and the sight made her want to come, hard. you took your fingers away and instantly replaced them with your tongue. gripping her thighs tightly, you let all of her sweet cum enter your mouth and drip down your chin eagerly.

“oh, that’s a good girl,” ginny was breathing fast and giving both of you a toothy grin ─ one which you and harry returned. “how hot does she look, harry?”

“so hot,” harry gasped, forehead sweaty and cheeks flushed red. “so hot covered in our cum, she knows that, doesn’t she?”

nodding and flustered, you tried to gather yourself after being fucked and fucking ginny at the same time but you were flipped onto your back. a loud yelp caught both ginny and harry and they both wore different smirks on their face. harry's said he was nothing short of loving the experience and ginny was thinking of ways to make it better for the former... and herself.

“open,” she commanded, biting her bottom lip with the cockiest look on her face. without any hesitation, you spread your legs as wide as you could to let ginny do whatever she wanted with you. “good little girl, you’ll be rewarded,” she hummed and you were desperate to be touched again. “but first ‘m gonna let harry have a bit more fun, show him just how good you are with that pretty mouth.”

the messy haired boy was already pumping up and down his shaft, tip as pink as his cheeks. “open?” harry’s request was softer but in some way, just as sexy as ginny’s. you parted your lips just enough to take his tip between them and sucked softly, eyes intent on harry while you did so. his were already scrunched in need and you made your way down, cum covered lips and saliva wetting his dick for you to suck him better. with hollowed cheeks, you bobbed up and down on his length, feeling more and more satisfied with his bucks hitting your throat. even gagging on his cock and nose hitting right above where he was slapping against his own skin, you moaned and sucked until ginny spit on your cunt.

“oh,” you let out muffled on harry. no longer watching you two, ginny was lowering her own pussy onto yours and the heat of both your aroused cunts felt heavenly. you whimpered with your lips around harry, tears streaming down your face, hoping to be touched by ginny. your wish was granted as you moaned muffled again and she sank onto you, using your thigh to ride your pussy. clits rubbing against one another with deliciously rough friction, cock all the way into your mouth, you saw stars. it didn’t even matter whose cum was dripping down your leg when the pleasure you felt was so mindblowing and harry was spilling his seed down your throat. “good little cum slut,” ginny rubbed your clit harshly.

“ginny, this is so good,” you groaned, on the verge of a sob, “but ‘m too sensitive, just let me please you guys,”

as if you’d told a funny joke, she laughed and turned to harry. “your turn baby, i want that pretty, pretty mouth back between my legs now that she’s all swollen and sexy,”

“poor thing,” harry chuckled at your scream when he attached his mouth to your soaked and abused pussy. his hands yanked you by the ass and he ate you out like you were a fucking pumpkin pasty. ginny lowered to sit this time on your mouth, facing harry’s buried head. whimpering almost pitifully, though extremely sexy to the couple you were pleasing, your tongue took messy movements to ginny’s pussy.

she was so wet that it didn't matter how out of it the sensations had you, your open mouth on her core was enough to have ginny spitting moan after moan. “cum now, y/n, i know you’ve got another one left in you,” harry cooed. you couldn’t even object with your mouth so preoccupied and all coherent thoughts being smashed by harry’s tongue fucking your hole. “that's it,” his teeth grazed you while you came and your sob on ginny’s pussy sent her to the very edge of her orgasm.

right then and there, she could have orgasmed all over your flushed face but she held on and took her pale fingers to your breasts. “i think she’s got one more in her harry, fuck her one more time,” she purred, hips bucking on your lips. the strangled moan you exhaled made harry beam while he prepared to enter you again. “you love it, don't you?” your mouth tasting between ginny’s slick folds wouldn’t let you scream his name, but you desperately wanted to when harry pushed all of his inches into you. “being just a pretty cum slut?”

in only a minute, ginny’s release washed over your face and flooded your senses. all you tasted was the last ginny had before she collpased beside you, panting heavily. she watched as harry kept fucking you like you were theirs. “pretty tits bouncing, shame we didn't give ‘em too much attention,” she chirped. your teary eyes widened, you weren’t sure if you could take ginny touching your breasts on top of harry pounding into you. but you desperately wanted to.

it must have showed in your eyes, or admittedly, in ginny’s desire because she wrapped her lips around one of your nipples and pinched the other one before switching to soft flicking. “so tasty,” she alternated, praising both your tits with her skilled fingers and warm mouth. about to coax you into your orgasm, you finished loudly and harry let himself release the second that you did. pulling out, he found his way next to ginny and wrapped his hands around her waist while she focused on your tits, tired yet euphoric. “aren’t they perfect?” ginny hummed contently and released them, and harry stroked your hair and ginny's.

“y’know, perfect’s just one word i’d use for this.”

the lovely filth of having the wild versions of harry potter and ginny weasley all to yourself were some of your best nights, you often thought. though you supposed deep down that they were the ones who had you to themselves, you didn’t care. what mattered much more was that you ─ and certainly ginny and harry ─ were quite glad that you were their good, little slut.

─────♡

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

Text

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult.

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for!

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step.

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line.

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity.

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor.

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder.

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing.

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes.

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think.

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate.

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place.

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission.

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm?

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have?

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes.

Or so you believe.

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds.

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods.

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path.

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.”

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.

You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers.

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.”

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd.

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants.

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place.

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable.

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

“So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

“Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face.

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you.

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right?

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home.

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of.

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you.

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru.

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries.

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”.

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips.

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame.

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing.

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch.

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”.

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four.

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting.

And history repeats itself. Over and over again.

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you.

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock?

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth.

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint.

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of.

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy.

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases.

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.”

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with.

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it.

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him.

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you?

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use.

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose.

Anything, huh?

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him.

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly.

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary.

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases.

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast.

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.”

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face.

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim.

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy.

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.”

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll.

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.”

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: drugging #tw: drugs #tw: addiction #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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pinkteapotwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday Remus!

Warning: Lol, this is literally just smut. Smutty smut smut.

Female/male receiving, oral, edging, degradation, Fem!dom, Spitting, creampie, basically explicit sexual content. Minors DNI

Description : Remus wants something special for his birthday, something out of the norm.

Wolfstar x Fem!Reader

Word count : 1721

---

Here you were.

It was ridiculous really.

You always behaved, maybe needy, but never bratty. Yet Remus and Sirius always found a way to push you out of your comfort zone.

So here you were.

Straddling Sirius as his arms were bound by leather to the head board, only in his boxers. Normally it would be the other way around. Sirius was not submissive and quite the bratty bottom. Sirius smirked up at you, challenging you just knowing he could easily get his revenge.

You see it was Remus’s birthday and you’ve always been very eager to please. You remember the day before asking what varying chocolate sweets Remus would want for his birthday. You knew he had a hard time accepting gifts, but you knew he’d appreciate some baking. So you wander into the living room to see Remus lying against Sirius as he read. Sirius was drawing lazy circles against Remus and you forgot why you weren’t settled there too, before you snapped out of it.

“Rem, darling?”

Rising up from his very comfortable seat, he walked towards you, gave you a quick peck before responding, “Yes love?”

“I know chocolate cake is your favorite, but is there anything else you want me to make? Just ask and I’ll do it.

Remus smirked for a second, “anything?” he asked.

“Of course, silly.” You looked up at him questioningly. It’s his birthday, you weren’t likely to say no.

“I do want something for my birthday, but it’s not food.”

Sirius’s head popped up in surprise and as his eyes reached yours he found your reaction matched his own. Remus didn’t like people buying things for him. Before you could even ask what he wanted Remus was whispering something in your ear that made you shiver. Sirius arched his eyebrows at you in question and you just stared back, much too embarrassed to respond. Knowing how easy it was to get you flustered he turned to Remus for an answer. And that’s when Remus had the gull to laugh and say,

“Oh, you’ll find out”

---

So here you were wearing a colour of lingerie that Remus adored on you, Straddling Sirius, not believing that Remus wanted you to dom him as he sat safely from a distance on a chair at the foot of the bed. It would be an easier task to make Remus the minister of magic than it would be to manage Sirius. You were a very gentle soul and that was one of the reasons the boys fell in love with you, but Remus had gained so much amusement at the prospect of you dominating the untameable, and it was his birthday, so you were forced to oblige.

There was Sirius with that menacing grin, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

You turned back to Remus for some sort of moral support but he just stared back, palming his bulge clearly eager for you to get a move on. Then Sirius did something that would have gotten you punished ruthlessly (by him no less) and thrust upwards at your core and stated, “come on, I thought you were supposed to be paying attention to me?”

You glared down at him. The audacity to edge you for hours for not responding quick enough, or not begging enough for his liking and you turn your head for one second and he has the nerve to act like that. Your usual gentle tone was diminished and if the tone wasn’t warning enough your words definitely were.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to move and let’s make one thing clear you fucking brat.” You didn’t see but you were sure Remus’s eyebrows were raised as Sirius returned your glare with ease “You are tied up for my pleasure right now, and through mine you’re tied up for Remus’s too. So if you can’t be a good boy I won’t hesitate to treat you with the same mercilessness that you treat me with. Are we understood?”

“Fine.” He grinned.

“That’s a start at least. Open your mouth.” you commanded.

When he didn’t do so you squeezed his jaw between your thumb and forefingers the same way he does, forcing his mouth open on your own.

“I said to open your mouth, I knew you were useless, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so dumb.”

It felt so good to use his words against him. Apparently slipping into a dom role would be easier than you thought. With your new surge of confidence you leaned forward and spat in his mouth. You clamped his jaw shut and plugged his nose quickly after.

“Swallow” you commanded.

And he did.

You started to grind down on him then earning a moan from Sirius.

“Aw you like that baby? Your cock is so hard right now, I bet it’s aching. Bet you want nothing more than to fuck me senseless. Too bad you’re such a brat. Do you wanna make it up to me?”

You continued grinding, but he said nothing. You slowed to a torturous pace, “I said do you wanna make it up to me”

“Yes” he said quietly.

“Speak up, Remus needs to hear you too love.”

“I said yes” and with that it was your turn to smirk.

You got up and removed your underwear and made your way to Sirius’s face to straddle that instead. Before you sank down you said, “I want you to make me cum with only your tongue before I even think about returning the favour.” Not bothering to wait for a response you sank down on him and surprisingly he was being obedient. As his tongue greedily lapped at your pussy you turned towards the chair at the end of the bed. Remus was jacking off, eyes hungrily watching.

“See, now that you’re finally being a good boy Remus can feel good too. I can’t believe you would make him wait so long you selfish brat.”

Sirius knew it would be too dangerous to respond so he just continued tonging your clit.

You decided to give him a little treat since you were getting so close and leaned back to pull his throbbing length out of his boxers and stroke it.

Remus was having the time of his life. He knew what potential you had. Especially seeing the slight defiance in your eyes when Sirius would make you call yourself a whore for them. You enjoyed making them feel good, but Sirius deserved a taste of his own medicine. He couldn’t wait to see what you would do next.

As you ground down on Sirius’s face he finally brought you to your release. Sirius was close too, and as his hips rushed up to meet your strokes more and more desperately you released his dick. He groaned in frustration.

“Don’t be a baby, you do this to me all the time and besides if you think a plaything like you gets to cum before the birthday boy you are sorely mistaken.” She undid his bonds “Stand up.”

Sirius was very happy to be free but as soon as he was you were using the same bonds to restrain his hands behind his back.

“On your knees, in front of Remus, now.”

Sirius eagerly obeyed, not wanted to risk the chance of not getting his release he needed so badly.

“Sirius I want you to beg for Remus’s cock.”

Sirius raised his eyes from Remus’s red, swollen member to Remus’s lustful gaze.

“Go on, what do you say? I'll give you a hint, you make me say it all the time.”

“Please.” Sirius quietly muttered.

“Please what?” this time Remus spoke up.

“Please may I suck your cock?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely”

Soon enough Remus was fucking Sirius’s face as you were knelt beside him. Placing delicate, yet intense kisses across his shoulders and neck, while still whispering the odd dirty statement. Loving that Remus turned the tables for you and excited for when Sirius would turn them back.

“Fuck, I’m coming.” Remus pulled out and watched intently as Sirius swallowed and as you cleaned up what Sirius missed.

“Please please I’ve been so good now can I please cum too?” Sirius asked looking at you.

“I don’t think so” Remus responded, “y/n has been much better than you so I think I’ll be making her cum again while you watch on the chair.”

It was so much fun watching tears roll down Sirius’s cheeks as Remus fucked you from behind.

Maybe it was your birthday instead you mused to yourself as Remus slammed his cock into you brutally, making sure you and Remus both would get to come for the second time that evening. Remus wrapped his arm around your neck and pressed your back to his chest, while his other one made his way to your clit mimicking the furious pace of his pounding.

“Isn’t she so pretty? Pads, look at her all fucked out. This is what a good pet looks like. Fuck she’s so tight, bet you wish you could cum in her pussy like I’m bout to.”

You just whined at that, completely aware of the fact you could climax by Remus’s words alone.

“You like that Pup? You like knowing you’re my good girl? Come on, be a good girl and make a mess on my cock.”

Your orgasm washed over you in a burst, Remus prolonged it by continuing to strive for his own high. Just before you were about to cry it was too much Remus was releasing his big load inside you. As you were both catching your breath you were interrupted by soft sniffles coming from the foot of the bed.

“Don’t cry sweetheart” Remus cooed “You can have your turn now. y/n do you wanna help our Siri out”

You gathered your strength and clambered off the bed. On all fours you made your way to Sirius before nestling yourself between his legs on your knees. Finally Sirius sighed in relief as your lips wrapped around his cock. If tonight taught him anything, it taught him he was going to be praising you much more for what you put up with.

“I love you y/n”

He really meant it, and not only because he was cumming down your throat.

---

Hey y’all I hope you liked this. Please feel free to let me know if you’d like to see other stuff like this in the future!

@thotbutpurple

#harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #smut #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin smut #wolfstar x reader #poly wolfstar #sirius black x reader x remus lupin #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n

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babbushka · 3 years ago

Text

Midnight Pearls

Ancient Emperor!Kylo Ren x Goddess!Reader

A/N: This oneshot is inspired by, and dedicated to, my dear friend @autumnlovesadam who is always so kind in enabling me when I want to write about a certain au. I've been craving some Emperor Kylo content, and here we are!

3.5k, NSFW (slight exhibitionism, body worship, sex on the beach [PIV, fingering & oral {F receiving}])

--------------------------------------------------------------

This is the third time now, that you’ve had to give his hand a squeeze, in an attempt to get him to continue walking. Three times now, that he has stopped abruptly on the beach, staring down at the dark sands below your feet, concentrating on something so hard that you’re positive he’s going to give himself lines in his forehead. With a gentle smile, you coax him to continue walking down the shoreline with you, resuming your midnight stroll.

It had been Kylo’s idea to slip away late in the night, when much of the city was asleep. He had gotten it in his head that he wanted to walk up and down the coast with you on his arm, and when Kylo gets in the mood for something, he simply will not rest until it is done. So, you find yourself in your most comfortable of robes, barefoot in the sand, hand in hand with your Emperor, as he scowls into the light of the moon.

All is well, until he stops for a fourth time, and instead of quietly tugging him along once again, you simply smile fondly and raise a brow in the dark, asking, “What are you doing?”

“I am on a great hunt, blossom.” He replies vaguely, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Ah I see, my Emperor’s head never seems to rest.” You attempt to let go of his hand, deeming him too preoccupied to notice, “And here I thought that I might be company enough for you on this evening.”

“Of course you are, in fact, the fruits of this effort are for you, and you alone.” Kylo snatches your palm right back up almost instantly, in that anxious sort of way that he does when he cannot bear to be mere inches apart. Something warm in your chest blooms at that, at his wanting to touch you, even when he’s distracted by some self imposed quest.

“Do tell.” You hum in amusement with a playful sort of encouragement.

Kylo walks along the shore with you, up to his ankles in the water. It is easy for him to cut through the resistance of the tide -- after all, he is so strong, he is the Emperor. Stopping and starting again as he inspects the sand beneath his feet, before sighing and pushing some of his long hair out of his face.

“I seek the most beautiful of all seashells that my beach has to offer.” Finally responding, Kylo bends down and with his free hand, splashes about in the shallow water, seemingly having found one. Upon closer inspection though, he must deem it unworthy, because he lets it drop back into the sand, and moves on.

Resting your head on his shoulder for a few steps, you too cast your gaze downwards. It is difficult to see in the dark like this, nothing but the moon shining and glittering on the water to light your way. It’s full tonight, and you, along with the rest of the Empire, have already given your offerings to the Goddess of the moon, in the hopes that she will be pleased. The night is clear, no clouds to be seen, so you believe that she is.

“There are a great deal many shells, your seas are healthy.” You remark proudly, wanting Kylo to be proud too.

“So you understand why it takes me so long.” He gives you a smile there in the dark, one that he thinks you can’t see.

The upturn of his lips is silhouetted in the silvery lining of the moon, and you savor the image for as long as you can, before he is stopping again to glare down at the sand.

“Oh my beloved, why not simply pick one? It need not be perfect.” You let out a small exasperated chuckle, hoping that he doesn’t keep this up all evening, lest it be sunrise by the time you return home.

“If it’s for you?” Kylo’s eyes are wide when they look straight into your soul, his voice quiet and soft, speaking nearly to himself when he nods, “Yes it does.”

Your heart goes warm again, and this time you have to bite at your smile so that he does not think you are teasing him. Kylo is a strangely sentimental man, in that, he is sentimental about such odd things. You have watched him burn the remnants of previous Emperors, watched him destroy and rebuild the palace he calls home, watched him storm into battle with such little regard for anyone or anything other than victory.

And yet, when it comes to you, everything must be perfect and precious, because to him, that’s what you are.

It is a long while before he stoops over for the final time, plucking a seashell from underneath the waves. The tide has begun to creep ever closer to shore with the pull of the moon as it travels through the night, the water now up to your calves.

“Here, this is the one.” Kylo brandishes a shell with a pleased sigh, a hopeful smile, as he places the twisted shell in your palm.

“Oh it’s gorgeous!” You gasp honestly, admiring the shape of the gastropoda shell, holding it up to the moon for a better view, “Look at the way it glows in the night, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

You’re not sure what color it is in the daytime, but here in the silver light of midnight, it gleams a glistening purple-blue in your hands. Something of a pearlescent coating hides inside where the little creature that once lived would have called home, a secret just for you.

“You really like it?” Kylo sounds so similar to young Ani whenever he brings you polished stones from the water’s edge that he finds, and you give Kylo the same kind eyes.

“Yes. I will fasten it into a necklace and wear it proudly until the end of my days.” You clutch the seashell in your free palm, not tight enough to break it, but merely so that it remins secure in your grasp, before leaning in to kiss your lover and sigh against his mouth, “Thank you, Kylo, I’ll treasure it always.”

Kylo kisses you again, pulls your body close to his. It is only then that you feel the first shiver of the night ghosting over your skin, and you realize how little clothing you both are truly wearing. You are dressed in a simple sheer white robe that criss-crosses over your chest, falling in long panels down to your ankles which now float atop the black sea. Kylo wears only his long tunic, belted at the waist with a deep purple stash.

As he kisses you, your body grows warmer and warmer, desire pooling in your stomach as your lips part for him, your arms looping around his neck, a silent plea as you sigh and gasp under the bites and kisses to your throat he places.

“There is nothing, or no one, more beautiful than you.” Kylo’s hands grasp at your waist, your robe so thin that you can feel the heat of his palms on your skin, and he tugs you closer, close enough that you can feel the hard line of his cock against your stomach, murmuring, “I ache for you, blossom, let me bury my face between your legs and have a taste of your cunt, I beg.”

“Here I thought you’d never ask.” Grinning, you let him hoist you up into his arms properly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you away from the water’s edge.

Not wanting you to get sandy, he removes the sash and his tunic, and shakes it out so that it lays down onto the cool sand as a blanket. Naked before you, his cock is so impressive, even in the low light of night, you can see the way it curves up deliciously, the way it twitches, wanting to thrust inside of you.

While Kylo sets down the tunic, you busy yourself by removing the few ties that hold your robe together, letting the see-through fabric fall to your feet, your bare body just for Kylo, as his is just for you. He licks his lips, eyes you up and down, gaze fixated on the glistening between your legs, and gently guides you down onto the makeshift blanket.

“My favorite, my most beautiful girl, oh heaven above, you are glorious.” Kylo’s voice nearly breaks with adoration, the reverence in his words shaking through him, as his hands part your thighs with ease.

“Shh, my Emperor, enjoy the spoils of your kingdom, take what is yours.” Your cunt is wet, slick smeared between your thighs in anticipation, pussy fluttering and desperate to be attended to.

Needing no more permission, Kylo moans into your cunt immediately, kissing and sucking at your folds, his teeth and tongue working to open you up, to swallow down the wetness that drips onto his mouth at the stimulation. He is so very good at eating pussy, that you sometimes wonder why you do anything else at all. Losing yourself in the pleasure, you set the seashell down above your head so that it stays safe, and tangle your hands in Kylo’s hair, gripping and gasping tightly right at the base of his skull, moaning out loud into the night air.

Kylo licks up your folds slowly, deliberately, before he plunges it into you in earnest thrusts, eyes shut tight so that he might press his face as close to your flesh as he can manage, your legs sliding over his shoulders, keeping him there as you fist his hair.

“Mmm, fuck.” You sigh, gasping loudly as he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts inside your pussy, “Your tongue is so long -- more, I want more.”

Demanding and insistent, you push your hips up to better allow him purchase of your body, and he takes a hold of it as much as he can, the deep moans and grunts of pleasure reverberating through your body, as he shoves his tongue deeper, impossibly so inside of you, joined by two of his fingers to better stretch you out.

“Yes!” You gasp, a great big smile spreading across your face. Kylo’s big, everything about him is big, and even though he’s been fucking you for what feels like an eternity now, you still need proper preparation. His fingers stroke at your walls as he sucks and plunges his tongue further into you, fingers crooking and curling against your gspot, grazing it and making your body shake, shudder, jolt.

Your nipples are hard and oversensitive against the cool air, and you wish he would latch onto them and stimulate them, but he’s decided against that, instead nosing at your swollen clit, paying special attention there. His lips suckle and his cheeks hollow out, and your body writhes on the tunic blanket, gasps and moans hiccupping out of you.

The pleasure is so much but it’s not enough at the same time, not enough to get you to come, not yet, you need to be filled properly. Kylo knows this, and after only a little while longer of drinking down the slick that your pussy shines all over his face, does he pull his mouth away, licking his lips and swiping the back of his free hand over his goatee to collect the juices that soaked his chin.

“You taste like the sea.” He murmurs, licking his lips again and again, eyes glittering like the moon on the waves, “I could spend forever here.”

“I need your cock.” You whine, too desperate for anything else.

Some nights Kylo makes you wait for it for hours and hours, eats your pussy until you’re a sobbing pleading mess, and for a moment it looks like he’s in that mood tonight. But when you say that, he’s reminded of his own rock hard erection, that’s been steadily dripping pre-come into the sand.

He doesn’t want to deny you nor himself that feeling of being so thoroughly fucked, so he doesn’t. Climbing up your body, your face instantly presses against his neck as he hikes your legs up once again, this time spreading them at the right angle that his throbbing cock stuffing you full.

“Ah, yes!” You moan loudly, a little too loudly, loud enough that the stars begin to twinkle brighter, the ocean creeping closer, caressing your sides, licking up against your bare bodies as he settles his weight on top of you, grunting in your ear, bottoming out. “Yes, that’s it -- right there, oh, Kylo!”

Unfocused, your glassy eyes look up at the stars and smile, and you swear they smile back at you, until you can’t look anymore, the pounding pleasure wracking through your body as Kylo gets his purchase and fucks you with a vigor that reminds you of the way he fucks you after battle. It’s so good, it’s too good, your toes curling in the sand, back arching up off the makeshift bed.

The sounds are thick, squelching wet and loud in the night, and your breath begins to come in faster, your moans higher, body on fire. All your nerves tingle and alight at once, and your eyes roll back into your head from the pleasure as he thrusts hard and fast, grinding his hips against yours.

“D-do you think they are watching us? Do you think they are pleased?” You gasp, digging your grip into the muscles of his back, clutching him tight as your body shoves up up up the tunic, the water chasing you, wetting you, covering your bodies and keeping you warm from the summer waters.

“Yes,” Kylo groans, “I feel it in my bones. Your cunt is so tight, oh fuck..!”

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.” You cry, the Goddesses above smiling down at you and Kylo. You can feel it in your bones too, can feel it in the way the sea caresses your sides, foam bubbling and tickling your legs as he lowers a hand to your throbbing cunt once more.

“Are you going to come?” His voice is deep and dark and so powerful, all yours, staring at you with concentration, as his fingers rub and pinch at your clit, “Will you come on my cock? Let me feel you.”

“You’re so fucking big -- so big, I -- I -- oh!” You gasp loudly, the sound echoing across the shore, deep into the ocean and high up into the stars. Your legs are spread so wide, and your pussy is so filled with his cock, that cock which doesn’t let up even as you’re teetering on the edge of coming, close close close.

“Beautiful, so beautiful.” Kylo bends himself down to suck on your nipples, harsh and aggressive and exactly what you need as he rolls your clit.

“Kylo please please please!” Nearly jackknifing, your body snaps up in pleasure as you scream out his name, music to his ears.

“Anything for you, always.” He’s drooling all over your chest, drunk off the feeling of your tight cunt clamping down around his cock, but he times his thrusts against your gspot with the rubbing of your clit, and your body shudders and you’re moaning so loudly that you almost have no idea that you’re coming, it’s all one big sensory overload, too much, too good.

The orgasm is beautiful, you can nearly see it, the stars that dance behind your shut eyelids, swirling and sparking down your veins, pleasure hazy and thick flooding your mind. Your heart beats fast, like you’ve run a decathlon, and all at once, that pleasure bubbles up through your chest into a shower of laughter, happy giggles that you can’t seem to stop once they’ve started.

Kylo has yet to finish, but you know this is his favorite part; when you are soft and pliant and he can bury himself even deeper inside your pussy, spilling his come hot and heavy into your cunt. He always makes sure you come first not only because he loves you and wants you to be pleased above all else, but because he loves the feeling of your body taking him so well.

After a few more grunts and hard thrusts that have you whining and gasping, overstimulated tears spilling down your cheeks, he comes, and you can feel the heat of it spreading through your body, sloshing around inside you.

He collapses down on top of your chest, the both of you taking in deep steady breaths, before you are giggling once again, your limbs nearly numb, softly saying, “I cannot move my legs.”

“Good, I don’t want you going anywhere.” Kylo is too tired to hold you, but you know he would be if he could.

“But the tide, my beloved, we’ll be swept away.” You laugh and laugh and laugh, the adrenaline giving way to something joyous and warm.

“They would never allow that.” He kisses your sternum, “And neither would I.”

Almost as if on cue, the ocean curls and curves around your bodies, touching everything but the spot where you lay, a silent agreement from the Goddesses. They love you, they want to see you succeed, they won’t let any harm come your way.

Later, much later, when you’re starting to grow stiff from lying on the hard floor of the shore, do you gently push Kylo to sit up, so that you can begin to re-dress and make the walk up the cliffs back to the palace. It is a long walk, and you know that if you don’t go now, you’ll both just sleep naked outside, which you’d never hear the end of. Kylo knows the same to be true, so he helps you stand up on your sex-wobbly feet, and hands you your robe to loosely wrap around your body. He dresses in his tunic, shaking off as much of the sand as possible -- when he whirls around to face you as you gasp in anguish, “Oh no!!”

“What is it, blossom?” Kylo is at your side in a moment, and you merely drop to your knees and search the sand with sad panicked eyes.

“My seashell! The waves -- it got lost -- I’m so sorry.” You look like you could cry, but not tears of pleasure, and Kylo can’t have that, not for one moment.

“It’s quite alright, it just gives us an excuse to come out here and look for it another night, doesn’t it?” He offers you his hands and pulls you back up to standing, holding your body close, kissing your throat and shoulders that are exposed, covering them with reassurance.

You sigh, feeling awful that he spent all that time looking for something to give you, and you went and lost it. But when you look at Kylo, eyes straining in the pitch black of night, you find that he’s not mad at all.

“Perhaps next time I shall find one for you too.” You say by way of apology again, and Kylo only shakes his head, pinching your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to meet his in a kiss.

“There is no need, you are already the most precious pearl a man could hold.” He whispers, a secret just for you, one that you simply must kiss him again about.

“You are very good to me.” You whisper back, your hands bracing against his strong chest, against the Emperor’s chest, “I hope you know this. I hope you know how much I adore you.”

“One day I will see you Empress, and then I’ll have earned that praise.” Kylo muses, and you know that is a treasonous conversation that’s best had elsewhere -- another place and time. Murderous plots were not often pillow-talk, and you weren’t inclined to start that now.

“You are already deserving of it.” You promise him, before changing the subject before he can grow sentimental to dwell on it, “I have grown cold. Let us return to our rooms, and allow me to convince you.”

Beginning the long walk back the shore, the moon seems to follow your path along the horizon, shining on the water and providing a safe beacon of light for you to climb the cliffs once again.

You will ask Kylo to bring you out here again, maybe not tomorrow but perhaps the night after, and you will kiss and make love underneath the stars once again, seashells in hand.

These nights are special, the ones you get with your Emperor, and you intend to savor them as often as you can, your midnight pearls.

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Tagging some Kylo lovin' friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @lovinghufflepuffgirl @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip

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spiltscribbles · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

FROM THIS LIST | Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face.

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk.

It’s a decade and a half later— as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least, to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly, searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand.

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice.

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors.

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even.

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital.

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin.

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?”

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped.

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #ILU Victoria!!!#also to anyone side eyeing the buy me a coffee plz do not judge me #i am so searing embarrassed about it #rip #just it's there i guess #calls;jalksdgjaeowifjsadlkgh #look away from me #!!!#lmfao #spilt ink

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #ya boy is a simp and also technically not a boy #i am ill defined and like it #please appreciate this #if you put nice things in the tags I WILL read it #and I WILL love you for it

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aestheticanimegirl15 · 4 years ago

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Meeting their future S/O

Pairing: Kirishima, Bakugo, and Amajiki + Fem!Pregnant! Reader

Summary: These poor babies don't know what happened when you suddenly fell out of a portal into their laps. They are even more confused when they see you sporting a baby bump.

TW:None (other than some slight cussing) just some cute fluff and confused teenage boys.

Omg I never knew people would like my brain dumps so much🥺 thank you!! I really hope you like this one I saw a similar theme on another page but I can't seem to find it so I can credit them😔.Please excuse bad grammar and spelling. Hope you like it!! Stay safe and beautiful 🌸🦋✌🏻

__________________________________

Kirishima 🦈

🦈 This poor baby was so confused at what had just happened. He was sitting in the common room playing on his phone while Bakugo yelled at someone/something (he had gotten used to his yelling by now and tuned him out.).

🦈 Next thing he knew a beautiful girl landed in his lap from a portal above him. She not only knocked the air out of him but also fought everyone's attention with her pretty noticeable baby bump.

🦈 "What did you do!?" Denki shouted at him while helping you out of Kiri's lap.

🦈 "How am I supposed to know she fell out of the sky!" Kirishima yelled back.

🦈 Everything got even more confusing when they saw the wedding ring on your left hand and your shirt (Which was oversized,black, and had a picture of a much older Kirishima on it,sporting an absolute MANE of red hair, with the words RED RIOT in bold under it.)

🦈 Iida had already started bombarding you with questions about your physical health and didn't notice you grabbing Kirishima's hand and squeezing it while also holding your bump.

🦈 "Guys guys leave her alone already. Can't you see you're stressing her?" He said while helping you up and shooing everyone away as he took you to his dorm room.

🦈 Once there he hears you giggle and mumble something about how "It's a little messier than what you told me."

🦈 Shark.exe has crashed. Excuse me what? Did he know you? He tried to rack his brain for an answer but never found one.

🦈 "Um do you have your husband's number? Maybe we could call him and ask him to come pick you up." Kirishima says while grabbing his phone ready to dial whatever combination of numbers you gave him.

🦈 "You really don't know me yet do you?" You said lightly shifting your body so you could sit on his bed and get off your slightly aching feet. Kirishima shook his head slowly feeling like he did something wrong before another portal opened up and in walked (more like ran) a older and, in his mind, more manly version of him

🦈 Immediately you sprang up and hugged the male and letting out a rather loud “Kiri!!” The male hugged you back before asking if you were ok and placing his hands on your stomach.”I’m fine Kiri I just want to go home and see our son.”You said giggling before turning back to current Kirishima who looked almost ready to pass out.

🦈 “I’ll see you in the future but a little hint.” You leaned in and muttered in Kirishima’s ear “I’m the only one who calls you Eiji.” But before he could piece it together you were already gone.

🦈 P.S He did figure it out and gained the courage to ask you out and the first date went amazing save for the fact he tripped and fell. He totally embarrassed himself but you made it better by giving him a kiss at the end of the date.

Bakugo💥

💥 Ok bear with me on this one, how this played out Bakugo was walking in the dorm building, after he had his ass handed to him in training, when he heard someone yelling, like YELLING, louder than even him. He walked to the kitchen ,where the noise was coming from, and saw a woman with a large pregnant stomach yelling at Denki who had taken away some of Bakugo’s personal stash of very spicy chips from her.

💥 At first he was mad that someone had actually found the secret stash, then he was amazed that someone was able to handle the amount of spice the chips had (he won’t admit it but even to him sometimes the chips were too hot to handle).

💥 Denki sees Bakugo watch the situation before he runs behind Bakugo while screeching “Bro get your girlfriend!!” (poor Denki can't get a break)

💥 “Hey don’t hide behind him you coward! Give me the chips back!” You yelled at the blonde, who by now had run away into the safety of his room, but soon the anger turned to happiness when you saw Bakugo. “Baby!” You squealed and (tried) to run to him but he held his arms out and backed away.

💥 “Woah, woah, woah who are you calling baby!?” Bakugo yelled and in turn made you stop and hold under your stomach.

💥 “You silly! Don’t you remember me?” You say suddenly going quiet for a second.

💥 “No!? Should I?” Bakugo now regretting what he said, I mean you were obviously heavily pregnant and you called him ‘ baby’. He was trying to rack his brain of any ‘’ extras’’ he had come into contact with but came up with nothing. Though he did find it strange that you kinda looked like a girl he liked to pick on from class 1-B.

💥 Your mouth opened in a quiet realization “You don’t know me yet do you?” To which the male responded with a confused shake of his head. You didn’t seem upset about it though like he thought you would.

💥 “Well then can you help me get to the couch please? My back is starting to hurt from standing for so long.” You said almost shyly glanging down at your large stomach before back up at Bakugo. He nodded silently and helped you over to the couch where you gladly sat down and grabbed his wrist lightly. “Can you please stay? I know you have no clue who I am but if you wanted to know I will tell you.” You said happily.

💥 After he sat down (and gave you back the spicy chips that Denki stole) you told him everything, about how you met, how things are in the future, and much to his surprise how his future self proposed to you. (He thought his future self was both amazing and an annoying simp for you). You started to giggle at his surprised face when you finished the story and it turned into a full blown laugh when he looked at the engagement ring on your finger then to your large stomach.

💥 Wait, that would mean he……....Pomeranian has died and left the chat.

💥 But before he could ask to make sure a portal opened up and an older and ahem…. More muscular version of him appeared and his future self almost sprinted to you and hugged you tightly (being careful of your stomach of course). Future him pulled away and looked over you for any sort of injuries and, when finding none, turned to his current self.

💥 “Thanks for taking care of her for me.” His future self says “It might not seem like it now, especially after that beating you took today in training, but things are going to get better. Trust me.” His future self mummers quietly before picking you up bridal style and going back through the portal.

💥 The next time he sees you he doesn't pick on you or call you an extra much to the confusion of you and his classmates. But he knows it will make sense in the future and he holds onto what his future self said “Everything is going to be ok.”

Amajiki🐙

🐙 This poor shy boy didn’t even know what hit him when he walked into his dorm and saw a pregnant woman holding a child that oddly looked similar to him. Miro had grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the woman sitting on the couch holding the child protectively.

🐙 Amajiki was even more confused when the small child jumped out of the girls arms and ran to him and HUGGED him yelling “Daddy!!” His face turned about 70 shades of red and he kept stumbling over his words still trying to comprehend the situation.

🐙 “Lillia!” You said making the little girl look back at you. The little girl had rather long wavy hair that was the exact color of Amajiki’s just a little lighter and she had his dark violet eyes. She looked like an exact carbon copy of him.

🐙 “Sorry mommy..”Lillia whispered and crawled back into the woman’s lap and hugged her large stomach. This poor boy was so confused. The little girl, who couldn’t have been any older than 4, called him daddy and the woman mommy and the last time he checked he was still (sadly) a virgin.

🐙 “I’m sorry about that Amajiki . She doesn't understand that you have no clue who we are yet.” You said looking down at the little girl as you rubbed her small back. Lillia had her cheek squished against your stomach whispering things to the unborn baby.

🐙 Amajiki flushed red again and started to mess with his fingers, his anxiety starting to kick in a little. “B-but she c-called me daddy?” He mumbled out shyly making you smile lightly

🐙 “God you haven’t changed much since highschool.” You said rubbing your lower stomach. Amajiki flushes red again but manages to gain the courage to sit next to you. The little girl tries to crawl over to him but stops when she looks at your stern face. Amajiki notices this and says something about it being ok and Lillia quickly goes and crawls into his lap hiding her tiny face in his chest.

🐙 At first he freezes up not being used to human contact much but calms down rather quickly(which is odd since he never really calms down at human contact). He looks over at you and tries to figure out who you are, he has never seen you around campus before and does not recall seeing you at the festival.

🐙 You smiled as you watched him try to figure out who you were. You knew what he was doing since whenever he was thinking really hard his eyebrows would furrow together and he basically looked like he was pouting.

🐙 It was so adorable.

🐙 Well it was until he realized if his future self actually WAS your boyfriend/fiance/husband whatever that meant he also……. Shy.boi.exe left the game

🐙 You were about to explain but a portal opened and a older version of Amajiki practically ran through and grabbed your face lightly checking you over before looking Lillia over who latched herself onto his leg

🐙 "Baby we're fine." You said holding the side of his face letting him calm down. Older Amajiki looked over to his present self and smiled mumbling out a thank you before picking both Lillia and you up and disappearing through the portal.

🐙 His current self did end up finding out who you were. You worked part time at a flower shop that he walked past a lot going to the park. (He ended up buying some flowers from you and you had slipped your number between some of the flowers.)

#boku no hero academia #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha headcanons #bnha fluff #bnha headcanons #bnha × reader #kirishima x reader #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #amajiki x reader #mha amajiki #headcanon #×reader #my hero acadamy

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atinymonster · 3 years ago

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tears and kisses

ateez 9th member.

when jiyu and sunwoo are given the chance to make up with one another.

the way i sort of got carried away but hehe it’s okay 🥺

➴ taglist: @banhmi07, @jiyeons-closet, @jaeminpeachy, @mochibabycakes, @euphoriamingi, @marsophilia, @goddessofdestructionbeast, @studioreader, @dkdlwhs12

➴ masterlist

"Wait, this is a horrible idea, Eric.”

“No it’s not, calm down Sunwoo. You look like you’re about to puke,” Eric rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics.

“Because I am!” Sunwoo whisper-shouted as to not distract their manager who was currently driving them.

A week had passed with no signs of reconciliation between Jiyu and Sunwoo. Which meant a week of Eric and the other boys dealing with a sulking and brooding Sunwoo who scrambled for his phone at every notification that he received. Even during the live broadcast for Kingdom, his members could tell how much he wanted to approach Jiyu, but his hesitance held him back.

Eventually, he decided enough was enough for the sake of not only Jiyu and Sunwoo, but for the sanity of everyone else who so desperately wanted the two to make up.

“Alright guys, we have a plan!” Eric and Haknyeon suddenly declared in the middle of their dorm living room.

“What plan?” Hyunjae asked before a lightbulb went off in his head. “Oh, for our brooding rapper over there?”

Eric nodded. “Precisely.”

Sunwoo rolled his eyes, yet he couldn’t ignore the small spark of hope that ignited in his chest. He had been wracking his brain all day for the past week on how to apologize to Jiyu, but he was afraid she was still angry with him despite her small smiles and encouragement towards him during the recent Kingdom live broadcast.

“I texted Wooyoung, and he said everyone else was willing to help us. Without Jiyu’s knowledge of course.”

“What if she’s still angry at me?” Sunwoo groaned, burying his head into his hands. The closer they were to arriving at KQ, Sunwoo felt the stress and anxiousness weighing down on him even more.

Eric stifled his chuckles. According to Wooyoung, Jiyu worried about the exact same thing, which was the main reason why neither of them were able to make the first move to reconcile. “Wooyoung told us Jiyu wasn’t angry anymore. He said she was feeling regretful if anything.

And he was right. Despite Jiyu’s attempts to try and act like her normal, everyone could tell her mind was elsewhere with the amount of spacing out she’s done.

The recent offline fansign they had was the hardest for her, having adorable comments about Sunwoo being thrown at her so often. All she could do was smile as a response, even if all she wanted to do was break down and cry. The boys all took turns looking out for her, and they felt a pang of guilt whenever they overheard an ATINY talk to her about Sunwoo.

But what could they do? Nothing. Jiyu had told them numerous times that she didn’t want to raise any suspicions, and that she didn’t want to bring the mood down since it was their first time seeing ATINY in person after a whole year.

The boys hated seeing her so lifeless and saddened when they didn’t have any schedules, so when Wooyoung received a text from Haknyeon asking for their cooperation in getting the two together again, he wasted no time informing the others (minus Jiyu) and gaining their approval.

“So what choreography are we learning today?” Jiyu asked, plopping down onto the floor while waiting for Wooyoung to choose a song on the practice room monitor.

Every so often on their free days, the two would take the time to learn another group’s dance together for fun and to keep their dance skills sharp. Not that Jiyu minded; dance was an escape for her, and she could really use a dance session at the moment to clear her head.

Wooyoung knew that, so he used the dance session as a way to try and lift her spirits, as well as a way to keep her in the room so she didn’t bump into Sunwoo prematurely.

“I’ll teach you Don’t Call Me! I need a buddy to dance with and we can record it to show ATINY later,” he answered, peeking at his phone every so often to keep an eye out for a text from one of the others to let him know when Sunwoo would arrive.

[hongjoong] is everything okay so far?

[wooyoung] yep! she’s still with me in the dance room :)

[san] great! now let’s all pray the two of them make up soon...i don’t like seeing baby monster so sad :(

[yeosang] yeah, it’s weird when she’s all frowning and not her usual bubbly self

[hongjoong] i know, it’s weird not having her voice resonate through the dorm everyday...

[hongjoong] anyways, we’ll direct sunwoo to practice studio 2, so send jiyu there too when we text you again later

“Who are you texting?”

Wooyoung felt his heart stop the moment he looked up and saw that she was about to peer over and read the text messages. Turning off his phone, his mind was scrambling for a valid excuse.

“Nothing, San just started spamming me with messages again,” he chuckled, letting out a discreet sigh of relief when she believed him. “Come one, let’s start!”

Jiyu’s ability to quickly pick up choreography was both a blessing and a curse. This was one of the rare times where Wooyoung found it a curse. She was able to learn the first verse all in ten minutes, and Wooyoung only learned up to the end of first chorus to teach her. At this rate, they were most likely going to finish before Sunwoo even arrived.

“Okay, let’s take a break? I’m sure your body still hurts from practicing for Kingdom.” Wooyoung said, trying to mask how frantic he was. Luckily, she agreed, sliding down the wall and resting her head in his shoulder before letting out a sigh.

“Feeling okay?” he asked, patting her head.

“If I’m being honest, not really. I just...miss him,” she quietly admitted, her chest tightening as various emotions began to overtake her mind. She never talked to any of the boys about how she was really feeling, not wanting to burden them with her personal problem. While she was extremely grateful that they tried everything within their power to cheer her up, she didn’t want them to feel obligated to stick with her every second of the day just to make sure she was okay.

Wooyoung bit his lip. He felt a sense of guilt for not being able to tell her that Sunwoo was on his way over as they spoke. “Do you want to talk to him?”

Jiyu touched her now-empty wrist, missing the weight of the bracelet that she had thoughtlessly left behind at Sunwoo’s studio. “I won’t lie, I do want to talk to him again...but does he want to talk to me is the real question.”

Before he could reply, he heard his phone’s ringtone go off—his cue to send Jiyu to meet Sunwoo. His heart started to pound in anticipation for the moment they’ve all been waiting for. Fishing out his phone from his jacket pocket, he couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across his face, a smile that didn’t go unnoticed by Jiyu.

“San again?” she giggled, completely unaware of who and what was waiting for her just down and around the corner of the hall.

“No, uh, Seonghwa hyung wanted to do a VLIVE, but the wifi connection’s acting up again. Can you run over to practice studio 2 and help him out?” he asked, mentally apologizing to Seonghwa for hinting that he was an old man for not knowing how to fix a simple wifi connection (when in reality, he most likely knew how).

He must’ve been blessed with luck for the day because Jiyu agreed without hesitation or suspicion, mumbling about how she swore she showed him how to reset it a few weeks ago.

A few minutes after she left, the practice room door opened and the others, along with Eric, quietly filed into the room to join Wooyoung in anxiously waiting for the outcome of their little plan.

“Mission accomplished!” Yunho whisper shouted with a little grin.

“We can’t say that yet. Not until we know if they made up or not,” Seonghwa reminded. Deep down, he was worried for Jiyu. Should the outcome be one that they weren’t hoping for, he knew Jiyu would be strong, accept the results, and push through. But how would she really feel deep down?

It was a mutual concern of their’s. They knew Jiyu would never want to worry them, they knew she’d just keep how she really felt to herself if things went downhill, so they really hoped with all their heart that everything would turn out alright for her. She couldn’t lose another person she loved, it wouldn’t be fair for her.

While the boys were waiting in the practice room, Jiyu made her way down to the studio. It was odd, Seonghwa never mentioned anything about a VLIVE today, but given how often she’s spaced out the past few days, she wouldn’t be surprised if his notification went in one ear and out the other.

“Seonghwa? I thought I showed you how to reset the wifi—”

The words died in her throat when she opened the door and instead of seeing Seonghwa, she saw the one person she’s been missing like crazy. She was convinced it was a hallucination that her mind had conjured, or that she was dreaming.

“No, no, shut up mind, you’re not doing this to me right now,” she mumbled to herself with her eyes closed, about to close the door and open it again in hopes that she’d see Seonghwa instead of Sunwoo sitting at the monitor table.

“Hey, hey.”

Before she could close the door, Sunwoo held it open before pulling her inside and closing the door.

And that’s when it hit her that he wasn’t a hallucination. She felt the warmth of his hand on her’s when he pulled her in, and she felt his body’s warmth and his breath on her shoulder when he pulled her in for a hug the second the door closed.

Sunwoo noticed how she tensed when he brought her into his arms, and a pang of sadness shook within his chest. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, feeling his eyes water. He tightened his hold on her, afraid that she would disappear if he loosened his grip.

Feeling his body tremble, her arms moved on their own, gingerly wrapping themselves around him and her hands drawing small, comforting circles on his back. Tears pricked at her own eyes but she refused to let them fall.

Basking in the warmth of each other’s arms, no words were exchanged. They just silently rocked side-to-side as Jiyu tried to comfort the boy in her arms.

Despite her calm exterior, she was a mess on the inside. Her heart was pounding in her chest from having the presence and warmth of her beloved back while her mind tried to find the words to say.

“I’m sorry, too,” she managed to say even though her voice started to crack from trying to keep her tears in. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

Lifting his head from her shoulder, tearily chuckled before bumping foreheads with her. “Hey, don’t cry.” he mumbled, feeling his heart break at the sight of her crying. He’d never seen her cry before, not even on the night of their fight.

But his words seemed to only encourage her tears and before she realized, she felt the tears slipping down her cheeks and the small sobs wracking through her body. She felt relief crash into her; relief that this all wasn’t a hallucination or a dream, and relief that he wasn’t there to break up with her.

Sunwoo sniffled before stroking her cheek to wipe away the river of tears, all while gently shushing her and whispering words of comfort. Once he felt her breath start to even out again, he guided her to the chairs and sat her down in one while he sat on the other. Jiyu couldn’t look at him, but the tight grip of her hands on his conveyed everything.

“I’m sorry for that night,” he quietly said, rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumbs, “I should’ve just asked you about it rather than assume and take out my anger on you like that. And—”

He paused, feeling his throat tighten as he remember all the horrible words he said. “I’m sorry for accusing you of being unfaithful. I really don’t think of you like that, I swear.”

Jiyu cupped his face in her hands and raised his head so he was looking at her. His bambi eyes were now filled with tears again, and it sent ripple of sadness throughout her chest. “It’s okay, I forgive you,” she cooed, using her thumbs to wipe away the stray tears that escaped his eyes.

“And I’m sorry for lashing out at you, too...and for saying things would’ve been better if we broke up.”

Sunwoo didn’t respond, but the way he nuzzled his face further into her hands answered for him, and she let out a little giggle. He felt the corners of his lips tug upwards at the sound of her laughter; he had terribly missed the sound.

Another moment of silence passed before Jiyu started to speak again. “My brother’s my only family left.”

Sunwoo’s eyes widened before they wandered to find her own. Taking her hands away from his face and resting them on his own again, she took a deep breath before continuing. “My parents died in an accident when I was three. Jiyong and I were the only survivors so we were sent to Guangzhou to live with our grandparents. That’s why we’re so affectionate with each other...we’re all we have left here in Korea.”

No matter how many times she spoke of her family, it never got easier. There was still the stinging pain in her chest, the guilt she carried around for years always started to resurface, and the anxious feeling that the person would think less of her when they found out about her broken family.

But Sunwoo just brought her in for the tightest hug he’s ever given her and buried his face into the crook of her neck. He knew she didn’t tell him that to make him feel worse about himself, but it still broke his heart when he realized he had accused her of cheating when in reality, she was with the only family she had left.

Countless apologies left his lips as Jiyu carded her fingers through his curly hair. No matter how many times he heard her whisper that it was okay, it didn’t ease the guilt that consumed his mind.

“I told you because I trust you. You didn’t even know, so please don’t blame yourself.”

It took a few minutes for her to soothe him, but she didn’t mind. She missed hugging him, she missed feeling his body against her’s, she just missed him. Too busy caught up in her thoughts, she missed how he fumbled around for something in his pocket before feeling a cold sensation wrap around her wrist. Looking down, she couldn’t control the smile that grew on her face when she saw the familiar white bracelet.

“I think this belongs to you, lovebug” he chuckled, satisfied when he saw a genuine smile instead of the forced ones she gave him during the live broadcast.

Her heart swelled with happiness at the nickname that she thought she’d never be able to hear again. “Thank you, sunshine,” she returned the nickname, an indirect reassurance that they were okay, that everything was okay.

With him still hugging onto her, she leaned down to place a quick kiss on his cheek, laughter rumbling from her chest when he started pouting and claiming she missed.

“I don’t think I missed, Woo—”

Before she could even finish, she felt him swiftly readjust their position so that he was pressing her against the chair, his hands firmly pressed onto the armrests to keep himself up. “I think you did, love,” he smirked before leaning down and pressing his lips against her’s.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but she still felt the volcano of butterflies erupting, fluttering around in her stomach. She wrapped her arms around his neck when one of his hands gently grabbed onto the side of her neck.

Pulling away, Sunwoo placed one last kiss onto her forehead before getting up and offering his hand out to her. “Come on, let’s go tell everyone the good news,” he giggled. It always threw her in for a loop at how he could switch from looking like he wanted to devour her back to an adorable puppy in a few seconds, (although Sunwoo could say the same about her).

Taking his hand and letting him hoist her up, she held him back before he could walk towards the door. Looking back and cocking his head to the side, he swore his heart almost stopped when she smiled up at him.

“I love you, sunshine,” she said, her aura resembling a puppy that had it’s tail happily wagging.

Eyes filled with adoration and affection, he smiled before leaning down to peck her lips one last time. “I love you, too lovebug.”

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demonsandmischief · 4 years ago

Text

Keep Me Safe

A Bucky Barnes Story

Bucky Barnes x OC Character

2K Words

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, Mention of Body Weight, Past Abuse/Trauma

General disclaimers before you read: This is not an imagine. Also, I'm not a doctor, but I do my best to make things as accurate as possible. Please take into account the trigger warnings. I imagine this after TFATWS events just because I feel like that Bucky has finally found himself enough to actually have a relationship. It doesn't contain any spoilers, but it may later on.

----

Bucky already has enough to deal with, but adding Mia to the mix might not be so bad.

----

"You're the only one who hasn't tried," Sam Wilson whispered adamantly.

"No," Bucky Barnes shook his head. "That's a bad idea, Sam, and you know it."

"Listen, you're the only one who could possibly understand what she's been through. At least try."

Bucky sighed. Damn Wilson for being so convincing and good with words. He glanced into the hospital room, seeing the pale girl hooked helplessly to the chirpy machinery. He cringed. He hated it all.

There was no telling what the girl had been through. She had been found while Sam was on a mission, and she continued to panic every single time someone entered the room. Nurses had to give her a mild sedative just to tend to her injuries.

Bucky had avoided the place like the plague. He wanted no part, but Sam was his friend, his only one at that, and he asked for his help, hoping he could relate to the girl in some way.

He entered the room, glancing back at Sam skeptically as nothing happened, but just like with the others, the frail girl woke up with a terrified gasp. Her chest heaved as she pulled at the wires, desperate to free herself, until she saw him.

She stilled at the sight of him, and Bucky couldn't help but approach curiously. She had the most stunning eyes, wide and painful. He couldn't imagine what they had seen.

"Easy," he murmured, holding his gloves hands out in front of him in a calming gesture. He was sure he could hear her heartheat with how frightened she was. "My name is Bucky. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

He glanced back towards the door at Sam who was just out of view.

He eased himself in the chair by the girl's bed. She calmed significantly when his height wasn't as threatening.

She glanced at the glass of water, and at Bucky cautiously. He could tell she was in pain. He didn't know the extent of her injuries, but she had definitely exerted herself when she panicked.

He shifted to pick up the glass and she tensed. "I'm just helping," he whispered. "Here."

She attempted to take it from his grasp, but her shaking hands didn't have the grip, so he held the straw to her lips.

There was something about this girl. Something he couldn't put his finger on.

"I'm Mia," she said after a moment.

Bucky couldn't control the soft smile that pulled at his lips at the sound of her voice. The reaction was odd, something he had never felt.

At that moment, two nurses and a doctor knocked on the door, and entered without saying anything. Mia immediately began to freak out and he was not having it. For some reason, it pissed him off that they barged in on their moment.

"Bucky," she whimpered helplessly, reaching for him.

She wanted him? There was no way. He had just met her.

Either way, he stood to his feet, addressing the group. "There's too many of you. You need to leave. Can't you see you're causing her distress?"

"We saw she was awake. We just need to run some tests," the doctor said.

He felt the feather-like touch on his leather jacket, and a quiet, fearful whimper that sent lightning bolts of red, hot anger throughout his body. Why would they cause her more fear?

"You need to leave. I'll call you when it's time for you to come in," he said sternly, his gaze dark and protective. It was a strange feeling that surged through his chest. He felt something similar when he was fighting alongside Sam, but this felt more intimate.

"You don't have any authority to tell me what to do. What is your relationship to this girl?" the doctor inquired.

Bucky clenched his fists. He wanted to break the shit out of this man's nose.

Lucky for the arrogant doctor, Sam was able to diffuse the situation. He stayed in the entry of the door.

"Woah, what's going on in here? Dr. Smith, Bucky has been the only one to calm her. He's with me, and I have the authority. You need to do what he tells you, or we will just find a different person for the job."

Dr. Smith gave a huff, giving a glare to the angry man.

Sam gave a Buck a tense nod when the room was finally empty.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked Mia, who looked scared out of her mind, huddled in the corner of the bed closest to him.

A tear fell onto her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly.

"I'm okay," she finally said.

"No, you're not, and that's alright." Bucky sank back into his seat, watching her closely.

"You act like you understand," she relaxed slightly, and he noticed her palms were cut from where her fingernails had been digging into the skin.

He reached for her hand, and she accepted his touch, which was very surprising. He reached for a tissue to wipe away the blood.

"I do understand," he said it simply, wondering if there would be more questions, but it was quiet.

Mia's whole body ached. She could feel it now that she didn't feel defensive. It hurt to breathe, hurt to think. Everything pulsed with pressure, and burned like fire.

"Thank you for getting them to leave," she whispered, laying back in the bed with a wince.

"You should see a doctor soon, but I'll make sure it isn't that one."

She hated doctors, especially that one that was just in there. They reminded her too much of the one's at - .

Mia shut down the thought, squeezing her eyes closed to stop the flow of painful, horrid memories.

"You should sleep," Bucky said, distracting her from her internal struggle.

She nodded, "Will you come back tomorrow?"

He came back everyday for the next few days. The pair didn't talk much, but they were comfortable with each other's company.

Mia even decided the doctor could finally come in. This one was a woman, and she had a warm personality, almost like a mother.

"You have some breaks that have healed improperly. We might have to reset those if possible. You're also covered in cuts and stab wounds of all kinds. You're dangerously underweight. We need to do a CT scan to know exactly what's going on." The doctor smiled gently, looking up from her clipboard. "Maybe you could tell Mr. Barnes what happened so we can get you proper help."

Mia gripped Bucky's gloved hand tightly, watching the doctor's every move.

The smile never faded from her kind face, "I'll have a nurse come in and prep you for that scan."

As soon as she was gone, Mia panicked once more. "No, no, Bucky. I don't want to go. I don't want to be scanned," she whimpered.

"Shh," he soothed, wiping away the tears with the pads of his covered thumb. "It doesn't hurt. I wouldn't let them hurt you."

A nurse knocked on the door. She set a cup on the table near the bed. "This is contrast so the doctor can see on the scan. Once you drink that, we should be good to go in about an hour. Do you have questions I can answer for you?"

Mia managed just the slightest shake of your head.

"Okay, call me when you finish that, or if you need me."

Whatever was in the cup was chalky and bitter, and hard to get down.

Bucky couldn't contain a chuckle at the adorable, disgusted faces Mia made.

"Don't laugh," Mia pouted, a twitch of a smile threatening to form. It was the first smile she had in a very long time. "You'll go with me, won't you?"

"Of course I will," he said. "I won't be able to go in the room with the scan, but I will be watching. I won't let anything happen to you."

Except, Mia didn't know that, and as soon as she was seperated from Bucky, she could feel the pressure in her chest. Her heart pounded viciously as she tried to force herself upright. Her ears were ringing so much that she couldn't hear or see what was going on around her. All she could see was the fleeting image of the metal table she had been forced to lay on, day in and day out. All the pain and screaming.

The memories that were trapping her began to disappear when she heard her name, the ringing becoming pesky background noise as Bucky's blurry image focused.

"Hey now," he said, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. He was no stranger to panic attacks. "You're okay, Mia."

She wasn't okay. The only time she was ever okay was when he was around, and that scared her too.

"If you do this, they'll know what's wrong and you can get out of here quicker."

"I hate this table," she cried, gripping his hands. "It's just like the one-"

"I know," Bucky whispered. He didn't know, but he would eventually. He needed to make sure the problem was taken care of. "I know it is, but you can do it. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Sam had been watching the exchange. He had been bringing Bucky some food when he had caught the scene.

"What's all this about?" Sam asked curiously. He had never seen the serious man so soft before. Normally, this would be a cause for some teasing, but this was a bit too sensitive for that.

"Don't ask," Bucky huffed, taking the bag of food from him. "Thank you. They only serve garbage here. She's not going to be able to put on any weight with that shit."

Sam eyed him curiously. "You've been with her for almost a week, so it is something, and I'll get it out of you eventually. You have me to thank for this."

"Yeah, whatever," he rolled his eyes. "I do need something from you. I need to know where she came from. I plan on taking a trip."

----

"Do you have to go?" Mia whispered sleepily. The hospital room was dark aside from a lamp. Usually, she was asleep when he left, but she had been extra clingy after the severe anxiety from the day. "I hate it when you leave."

That pulled at Bucky's heartstrings. He had developed strong feelings for the sweet brown haired girl.

"I'll even give you my bed," she said, her doe-like eyes catching the light.

He smiled, bending down closer, "You need to get some sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

"Please." She squished herself to oneside and patted the empty space.

Bucky sighed, "I can't. I have nightmares. I don't want to wake you. Plus, the bed is small. You're going to get hurt."

"I have nightmares, too. We can wake each other." She bit her lip and his resolve was slipping.

The fact was, he didn't want to leave. Not one bit. He wanted to be by her side all of the time.

"Alright, but if you need me to move or if I hurt you, you let me know." He laid beside of her, his ribs pressing harshly against the arms of the bed. It was not comfortable, not until Mia moved close.

He helped her adjust so she was half on top of him, giving him enough room to move over. She pressed her cheek to his chest with a content sigh.He felt content, too, like he finally belonged somewhere.

"Take the gloves off, Bucky. You can't sleep in those," she mumbled.

He hesitated. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. He didn't know what she knew of him, or what she had seen.

"You're the only person I'm not scared of," she continued gently.

He pulled off the flesh one first, and then slowly the vibranium one.

She smiled up at him, reaching for his metal fingers, "I knew this one felt different."

Bucky chuckled, the sound vibrating and tickling Mia. He pulled the scratchy blanket over her tiny frame.

"Get some rest."

----

🥺🥺🥺 This was a long one but it's been circling in my head for a while. Part 2? Thoughts?

#bucky barnes #bucky imagine #marvel #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #sam wilson #tfatws imagine #tfatws #the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #marvel fanfic

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I saw ur post about requests closing soon so I figured I’d give ya another, but it’s okay if ya don’t get to it anytime soon since you have so many!! Can I request Yandere Suga and Daichi with a fem! darling who’s oblivious to them, and they both maintain the image of friends in front of others but they’re actually fighting each other for your love, but then you start dating someone else and they both team up? I 💕 your writing so much, I’m excited to see what you do 😌

Yes of course bby! Hope you like it 💕

Daichi Sawamura x female reader, Sugawara Koushi x female reader

TW implied non-con, slight nsfw, manipulation, abuse of power (kinda), minor violence, mentions of grief

Tug O’ War

You meet Daichi first, on the outskirts of Miyagi thanks to a blown tyre and a dead phone battery. It’s just after nine pm and you’re ready to resign yourself to abandoning your car and hiking the rest of the way when the police cruiser pulls up, and sitting behind the wheel is Officer Daichi.

Sawamura, he tells you on the drive into town.

“So I take it you’re not from around here?” he asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

There’s a small smile adorning his face, but you know he’s just being polite, trying to break the somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Truth be told you don’t mind the quiet. With his radio playing quietly in the background, you’re still trying to sort through your thoughts, prepare yourself for what’s waiting for you when you arrive.

But that’s not his problem, and you don’t want to be rude, so you shake your head with a faint smile of your own. “I am actually… or I was, I guess. I moved away after high school.”

A lone eyebrow quirks, “Oh yeah? So what brings you back to Miyagi then? Family?”

Fingers twist in your lap.

“… Something like that.”

Maybe it’s because of the nerves eating away at your stomach, or maybe it’s just been a while since you’ve been back, but the drive to your sister’s house feels like it takes longer than it should. Daichi makes easy conversation the whole drive, and by the time you pull up out front of your old childhood home you find yourself glad of the temporary reprieve.

“Thank you. For the lift, I mean,” you tell him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he lifts your suitcase out of the trunk and passes it over to you. “I would have been up for one hell of a walk if you hadn’t come along.”

He grins down at you, laughing not unkindly, “It is kind of my job, but you’re welcome. I could hardly leave you stranded, now could I?”

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can speak a word the front door of the house is thrown open and a tiny figure barrels out onto the front lawn. You have a split second to brace yourself before impact, tiny arms wrapping around your middle, “Auntie!!!”

A bewildered Daichi watches as you smile (genuinely, perhaps for the first time that night), ruffling the boy’s hair. “Hey buddy, how’s my favourite little man?”

Glancing up, you spy your sister standing in the open doorway and your smile fades a touch. Your nephew’s already excitedly chattering, blissfully oblivious to the situation - a minor miracle in and of itself - as he eagerly tugs you back up towards the house.

It’s only when you’re halfway up the driveway that you remember Daichi.

A glance back over your shoulder confirms your suspicion - he’s still standing there, watching the odd display with a slightly confused expression, though to his credit he manages to quickly school his features back into something a touch more befitting an officer of the law when he realises he’s been caught.

“Thank you again, really. I appreciate it. You’re kinda my hero tonight.”

He nods, and it might be a trick of the dim light, but you swear you see his cheeks flush pink, “Anytime.”

Just as he promised, your car is picked up by a local towing company the very next morning before you’re even out of bed. The tyre is replaced without too much fuss, but when you go to pay, the mechanic simply shakes his head and tells you it’s all been taken care of.

You make a mental note to swing by the station and thank Daichi (again) in person.

***

It’s only fitting, you suppose, that you meet Suga a few days later.

Thursday’s your sister works late, which leaves you to pick your nephew up from school. You’re thankful that they’re already aware of the situation, nobody questions why a veritable stranger is passing through the gates - at least, not after your nephew perks up at the sight of you, shouting your name as he hastily tries to shove his arms through his backpack. In his excitement he almost trips - would have tripped - if not for the silver haired man who catches him before he can stumble, setting him right with a shake of his head.

“Please slow down, Daisuke. You’ll hurt yourself,” he chastises gently.

Your nephew pouts, and you can’t help but chuckle a little as he ducks his head in shame as you approach. “Hey bud, did you have a good day?”

Hazel eyes regard you curiously as your nephew clings to your legs, nodding before burying his face into your side.

“You must be Y/N,” the man - Daisuke’s teacher you can only assume - says as he straightens up.

Considering your nephew had all but screamed it across the courtyard, there’s not really a need to confirm it, but you nod anyway, accepting his hand when he offers it.

He’s tall and handsome - though maybe handsome’s the wrong word. Pretty, maybe - his features are soft and delicate, with long eyelashes and eyes you could quite easily lose yourself in, truth be told.

“His mother told us you’d be coming by every now and then to pick him up. It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Sugawara, Daisuke’s teacher.” He pauses, biting his lip for a moment before exhaling quietly. “I’m sorry, by the way, about…”

You’re quick to wave him off, ignoring the painful tug in your chest, “Please, it’s- I-I’m not… It’s fine.”

It’s very much not.

Even as you say the words your hand finds its way to Daisuke’s hair, stroking it gently as his grip tightens. You’ve never been good at dealing with grief, your own or anybody else’s, but you can’t stand the platitudes - even those with the best of intentions.

Sugawara frowns faintly but he doesn’t push you and desperate to change the subject you force a smile on your face, “So, you’re the famous Suga I’ve heard so much about! He absolutely adores you, you know? You’re almost all he talks about at home.”

He laughs, and just like that you feel the tension in the air dissipate. “Oh, is that so? I guess I could say the same about you. I’ve heard nothing but ‘auntie Y/N’ all week.”

Your cheeks heat, and you gaze fondly down at the boy still clinging to your side. “He’s a good kid.”

Daisuke chooses that moment to pipe up, launching into a detailed recount of his day, much to your and Suga’s mutual amusement.

And neither you nor Daisuke notice that while you’re engrossed in his retelling, Sugawara’s pretty hazel eyes are focused on you, a soft smile playing across his lips.

Thursday afternoon pick ups quickly morph into Tuesday, Thursday and Friday afternoon pick ups as well as Monday morning drop offs, and you don’t mind one bit. For one, you know that your sister appreciates it more than she lets on and you would do anything to make this even the slightest bit easier for her, and it gives you a bit more time to spend with Daisuke, which you’ve missed more than you care to admit.

Also because whenever you do stop by to pick him up, Suga - Koushi, as he keeps insisting you call him - makes it his personal mission to strike up a conversation, whether he’s out there supervising the kids or not.

He’s friendly and warm and has a surprising habit of making you laugh at the most unexpected things, and you can’t help but find yourself being reeled in by the silver haired man. It doesn’t hurt that Daisuke thinks he hangs the moon in the sky, but there’s just something about Suga that’s… easy.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t poke or pry. You still have a few friends in Miyagi, but the conversations inevitably end up circling back to what happened and how you’re holding up. You don’t blame them, you know they’re only worried about you, but it’s exhausting. Suga’s a breath of fresh air, and you hadn’t realised how desperate you were for a friend who didn’t know all the grizzly details.

Though being Daisuke’s teacher, he undoubtedly does.

But Suga seems content to pretend, until the day you arrive sniffling, eyes rimmed in red and unable to muster your usual smile.

That’s when the facade breaks, and he takes you back inside the classroom away from all the prying eyes of the other parents and lets you fall apart on his shoulder. You should be mortified, but you suppose that Suga’s probably uniquely equipped at dealing with emotional outbursts, considering he spends his days surrounded by six year olds.

“He was like my big brother,” you whisper after a while, your voice shattered and raw. “I miss him so much.”

He doesn’t say a word but his grip tightens and he hums quietly, and that’s enough.

***

A week after you get settled, you swing by the local police station with two coffees in hand and timidly ask the uniformed officer sitting at the front desk if Daichi’s around. The man looks at you, looks at the two drinks in your hands and grins a little too widely.

“Good ol’ Daichi, eh?” he winks, “Yeah, he won’t be back for a while. Can I help you with anything, ma’am?”

Your cheeks burn. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise considering he’s a police officer and all, but it does and you feel like an absolute idiot. Of course you should have checked before coming, but even if you’d had the foresight to do that, it wasn’t like you had his number.

Thankfully the other officer takes pity on you after you explain why you’re actually there, promising to let Daichi know you stopped by, diligently taking down your number to pass along as well.

True to his word, it’s hours later - well into the afternoon - when your phone lights up with a notification. Several, in fact.

Hey Y/N.

It’s Daichi.

Sawamura.

Srgt. Mokoto said you came to see me today?

Is everything okay??

The corner of your lips quirked up, and you get the sense that Mokoto had likely neglected to tell Daichi the real reason you’d dropped in, probably to make him sweat.

Hey :)

Yeah everything’s fine.

I brought you coffee as a thank you for the other day! Which I maaay have drank myself when you weren’t there…

But let me make it up to you! I can drop by the station if you’re around on wednesday at all?

The reply comes quickly.

Absolutely. 10:30 work?

You shoot back a quick reply confirming and toss your phone on the couch with a sigh.

It buzzes again a moment later, but the text message waiting for you isn’t from Daichi.

So a little birdie tells me you’re back in town.

***

“You know, you really didn’t have to bring me coffee. I meant what I said, it’s part of my job. My boss would have had my ass if I’d just left you stranded there like that.”

You glance over at him with a wry smile. “Yeah? And paying for my new tyre and the towing, is that part of your job too?”

Daichi’s cheeks flush pink and he almost chokes on his sip of coffee. “Ah.”

‘Ah’ indeed. “So considering I doubt you’re going to let me pay you back-”

He lifts a hand to stop you, shaking his head adamantly, “Not a chance. I know the guy who runs the garage, he owes me a favour. It was nothing, really-”

“Then coffee is the least I can do,” you say with an easy shrug. “But I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to keep you too long-”

Daichi’s hand - warm and rough - reaches out to close around your wrist, stopping you before you can stand.

“Stay,” he says, dark eyes glimmering.

***

You’ve forgotten, having spent the last few years living in the heart of Tokyo, just how small a town this really is.

You’re standing out by the school gates watching Daisuke run around with his friends when Suga decides to broach the subject.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Hmm?” You glance up to find him watching you with that same fond if not mildly exasperated expression on his face. It’s not his fault, not really - you’ve just been a little out of it the past few days.

Thankfully, Suga doesn’t hold it against you, chuckling. “Tomorrow night - are you free?” he repeats.

Your eyes widen a little, cheeks warming. “Um… well I kinda have a… thing earlier, but I should be free by then. Why?”

A silver eyebrow lifts. “A thing?” he prods.

“Just a thing. Why are you being so nosy all of a sudden?”

Suga laughs again, “Well if you’re not still tied up with your thing, I’m having some friends over for drinks for my birthday. You should come.”

Which is how you find yourself standing nervously out the front of Suga’s apartment, a bottle of wine in hand.

When you knock, however, the person who opens the door is not the one you’re expecting. Tall, broad shouldered and handsome, out of uniform for the first time since you’d met him-

“D-Daichi?”

The brunette stares, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

“I, uh… I’m- is Suga… Is Sugawara here?” you manage to stutter out, fighting the urge to fidget under his gaze.

His brows furrow, an odd look passing over his eyes, and for one awful moment you think you’ve somehow managed to screw up the address. But before you can embarrass yourself further, a familiar head of silver hair appears behind his shoulder, slapping him on the back.

Relief washes over you. “Suga! Happy birthday!”

Pushing a still somewhat bewildered Daichi out of the way, Suga’s quick to wrap you up in a warm embrace - which takes you by surprise - with a grin. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your eyes flicker back to Daichi for a split second, and Suga’s follow. He’s more observant than most give him credit for, but even the most oblivious would have a hard time not noticing the blank expression on the brunette’s face - or the way he was still staring at you. “You two… know each other?” he asks, ignoring the teasing and impatient shouts coming from inside the apartment.

Finally, Daichi snaps out of his stupor. “Yeah. We met the night she moved back into town.”

“Which is a polite way of saying that my car basically imploded and he saved me from having to hike all the way back to my sister’s,” you correct, and Daichi huffs in amusement, though he doesn’t disagree. “Suga teaches my nephew,” you tell him, answering the unspoken question written across his face. “I didn’t realise the two of you were friends, though!”

The two share a glance over your shoulder.

“Yep.”

“Small world, I guess.”

You laugh, passing Suga the bottle of wine, allowing Daichi to lead you inside with an innocent hand on your lower back.

There’s a decent few people squashed into Suga’s modest apartment, but somehow you manage to find yourself sitting around his coffee table, Daichi’s arm slung over the back of your seat, Suga sitting opposite you both, discussing - of all things - high school sports.

“Volleyball, huh?”

You can kind of see it. They’re both tall and in great shape - you’re pretty damn certain the muscles Daichi sports aren’t just for show - but it’s more than that. You tilt your head, chewing on your bottom lip. “What school did you say you played for?”

“Karasuno,” Suga says.

It takes a moment for it to click - though you blame that on the drink in your hand that Suga’s dutifully kept topped up - Karasuno… the flightless crows. Ah yes.

A slow smile creeps across your face.

“I saw you play once.”

Both men’s eyes widen, “You did?” Suga asks.

“Yep. The guy I was dating at the time, he played too.” You almost laugh when you glance up to find Daichi frowning at your side, an unexpected tightness in Suga’s usually easy going smile, “It’s okay,” you reassure them, ignoring the traitorous flutter in your stomach, “you guys won. It damn near broke his poor heart.” Not that he’d ever admitted as much out loud.

There’s a short silence, then-

“What team?”

You do laugh at that, “Don’t you think you guys are a little past high school rivalries?”

The ex-captain and setter meet each other’s eyes. Neither speak a word, but something utterly indecipherable passes between them, and when Daichi finally breaks it to glance back at you, there’s a sharp grin plastered across his face.

“Nope.”

You shake your head, feeling like you’ve missed something.

***

Hours later, fresh from a steamy shower, you stumble into bed and grab your phone from the nightstand. Sure enough, two unread messages are waiting for you.

You looked so damned pretty today.

Are you gonna let me take you out to dinner now or am I gonna have to get on my hands and knees and beg?

You smile into your pillow, quickly typing out a reply.

I don’t know, you used to be pretty good on your knees.

Your phone lights up a moment later, a familiar ringtone playing out.

***

Life gets busy after that.

Suga mentions that Daisuke is struggling in class, so you decide to join some of the other parents and volunteer as a ‘class helper’ one afternoon a week. Dai beams whenever you show up, and Suga seems eternally grateful for the extra set of hands - even if it’s just for craft time.

And just when you think you’ve managed to patch one hole, another appears. Miyagi might be a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, it’s not immune to the low life creeps that used to hang around your old apartment block in the city - you’re mugged walking back from the store, a bag of groceries for dinner in arm. The guy only hits you once, a blow to the cheek that sends you sprawling to the ground, grabs your bag - the one with your phone and wallet - and runs.

Your sister almost bursts into tears when she sees the cut on your lip, and it’s guilt more than anything else that swells through you when she spends the next twenty minutes berating you for not being careful enough.

You know she doesn’t mean it, you know she’s just scared. The promise falls from your lips before you can stop it, but it’s worth it you think, when her face relaxes and she pulls you into a tight hug.

But when you drop by the station the next morning, Daichi takes one look at you, and you watch in perfect slow motion as that warm smile freezes and falls. You expect the police report he makes you file, though you don’t really hold that much hope that they’re going to get your phone or wallet back, but not the words that come out of his mouth next.

“Self defence classes? Daichi, I...” you exhale with a huff, “don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”

The dark look in Daichi’s eyes as they flicker across your face tells you otherwise. “What if they had a knife, or a gun?”

You would have just thrown your bag and run, you weren’t stupid - your purse wasn’t worth your life, but Daichi doesn’t want to hear a word of it.

“What if your wallet wasn’t all he wanted?” he presses, and you stiffen at the implication. Gentle hands reach across the table to grab yours, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the back of your palm, “Just you and me, two hours a week, that’s all I’m asking.”

… What now?

“You’re going to teach me?”

“You got somebody better in mind, sweetheart?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow and a wry grin.

It makes sense, you suppose - what with him being a police officer and all.

And between your one on one sessions with him, volunteering at the school with Suga, making sure that Daisuke got to school on time, that the house was cleaned, there was food in the pantry and your sister wasn’t falling apart, you were running on fumes.

Yet when you come home exhausted and aching from Daichi’s place and catch sight of him, casually leaning against your doorway with a bag of takeout and that damned smirk you’d fallen head over heels in love with all those years ago, you can’t help but grin.

“Hey, baby. You hungry?”

Thank goodness for small mercies.

***

They’re more observant than you give them credit for.

Suga notices the way you gingerly stretch to put away the paint supplies one afternoon.

Daichi catches an eyeful of a bruise on your neck as he hovers over you - the makeup you’d used to hide it having rubbed off with the last manoeuvre.

Suga catches you checking your phone more often, smiling softly to yourself.

Where Daichi used to be able to coax you into staying back for a drink, you were quick to finish up and head home, claiming to be tired and hungry. You don’t take him up on his offer for dinner either.

But the final nail in the coffin came in the form of a drawing.

“Dai, who’s that?”

Suga’s crouched by his desk, gazing oddly at the picture your nephew had drawn. The task was simple - draw your family. Daisuke had dutifully done just that; him, his mom, you, and-

“Auntie’s new boyfriend.”

Suga’s eyes snap to yours and you curse your heart for skipping a beat. “I didn’t know you were dating anybody.”

***

Daichi’s fingers tap restlessly on the leather of the steering wheel.

He was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago but when the call came in, he didn’t really have a choice but to answer it. She’d asked specifically for him after all, and even if she hadn’t, the Sergeant would have tossed the case his way regardless.

Mokoto knew how he felt about you.

Spending an hour and a half sitting in your living room while your sister sobbed wasn’t exactly how he’d planned on spending his afternoon, but he supposed it came with the territory. He knows how to do his job properly, though. Listening, asking the right questions, offering sympathy without promising results - it’s nothing he hasn’t had to do before.

“Please Daichi, she- she’s all we have left, I… I can’t-”

It didn’t mean he wasn’t aching to leave with every second that passed.

Of course, it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Through her tears, your sister did manage to give up the name of the guy you were fucking.

A name he certainly recognised from way back in high school. He knows he’s going to enjoy pursuing that particular lead, but as he pulls his car into the driveway and switches the motor off, Daichi shoves the thought aside.

He has other, far more pressing matters to deal with.

His heart thrums like hummingbird’s as he walks up the pathway, nodding politely at his elderly neighbour as he passes.

The sight that greets him inside his living room makes the wait worthwhile.

You, on your knees, stripped down to your pretty, lace underwear, arms cuffed behind your back and your plush lips wrapped around his best friend’s cock.

With his long fingers carefully carding through your hair, Suga coos at you between breathless moans, praising you for being such a good girl for him with every roll of his hips. You’re shaking, trembling as silvery tears spill down your cheeks and when he drops his wallet, phone and keys on the bench and kicks off his shoes, your wide, pleading eyes turn to greet him.

Daichi’s cock stirs in his pants, a rush of excitement and something much, much darker and more primal flooding his veins.

Noticing that he no longer has your full attention, Suga’s eyes follow yours. “You’re late,” he says with a lazy smirk.

Loosening his tie, Daichi huffs out a laugh, “And I see you didn’t bother waiting.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere Daichi #yandere Suga #yandere Daichi Sawamura #yandere Daichi x reader #yandere suga x reader #yandere sugawara #yandere sugawara koushi x reader #yandere Daichi Sawamura x reader #my writing #yandere fic #tw non con #tw abuse of power #tw minor violence #tw manipulation

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