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parker-razor · 4 years ago

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show me, feel me, teach me - ch. 4

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series masterlist!

female!reader x mando

word count: 2.8k

series summary: during a drinking game, you let slip that you don’t know much about sex. mando offers to show you what you’ve been missing, and you happily accept.

warnings: smut that’s so filthy it’s insane (extended warnings under the cut), lotssss of fluff, mentions of insecurities

a/n: today’s the first day i didn’t have to work in awhile and i had to write some more... this chapter in particular made me all blushy so lemme grab my vibrator real quick

extended warnings: somnophilia, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, grinding, cum eating, masturbation, multiple orgasms

*****

You watched Mando as he hauled the heavy, limp bounty up the ramp of the ship. You had offered to help, but Mando, ever the gentleman, refused. So, you and the kid watched him drag the lifeless body into the Crest, and into carbonite.

Apparently, Mando had gotten so excited to see you when he made it back to the ship last night that he abandoned the body at the foot of the ship and scurried inside and into your quarters. It wasn’t like the body was going anywhere, Mando had argued. He just needed to see you.

After your little… chat over the comm, Mando was still rearing to be with you. As soon as you had fallen asleep at the end of your call, he jumped to his feet and continued on his hunt at a speed he had yet to hunt at. He had thought that after getting some of his drive for you out of his system that he could rest for a while before he kept hunting. But just the opposite happened; hearing your voice, your moans, the way your words hit him right in the chest… Maker he just had to get back to you.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you splayed out on your bed. Your tank top was almost see through, and you only had a pair of underwear on as bottoms. He just needed a taste.

After he quietly stripped his armor and clothes off him, he gently pulled your underwear down to your knees and knelt down on the bed. He must’ve not smelled too great after days of hunting, but he was too drunk on your presence to be self-conscious.

He couldn’t stop himself from delving between your thighs, making out with your dripping cunt. It must have still been wet from your earlier orgasm, or maybe you were dreaming of him. Maker, he hoped you were.

You were asleep, so it didn’t totally matter if he tasted you with any technique or rhythm. Flicking your clit with no real purpose other than to have your taste in his mouth, to have his tongue flooded with your essence. His cock hardened at an ungodly rate, and he couldn’t help but start stroking himself fast. He didn’t care about his pleasure, or frankly your pleasure; he just wanted to taste you.

All the sudden, he heard you speak up, and you were coming into his mouth with a vengeance, and he came all over his hand with you.

He didn’t want to bother you too much, so he figured one orgasm was enough (for now). He crawled up to you, kissing your shoulders and your neck and your cheeks. You had no doubt fallen back to sleep by then, and Mando was overwhelmed with sleep as well. He drifted off with his head rested on your chest, your hands carded through his curls as his breathing slowed.

Mando had never been with a woman like he had been with you. Sure, he hadn’t technically been with you in the biblical sense just yet, but this was so different. He had had one-night stands when he had time to spare on a hunt, some girl in a bar who gawked at his armor who he figured would be willing to let him get his frustrations out. A grateful damsel he saved, who was coincidentally being attacked by the bounty he was tracking. Not many women, but enough to know just what he was doing and just how to make someone writhe in pleasure.

But you… you were radiant.

Your beauty was unconventional; your skin rolled around your waist, your stomach hung over just a little with stretch marks littering your inner thighs and hips. When you slept, your neck folded into little rolls. But Mando adored all of it. Not in a patronizing way, but because you were truly just gorgeous. Not despite of your flaws, but because of them. They weren’t flaws to Mando, they were just what made you more and more perfect.

Many of the women he had been with exaggerated their pleasure. It wasn’t fake, just turned up a bit because they figured it would make Mando more confident. Mando hated that, when women would be dramatic when displaying their pleasure. You never did that, though. Your sounds were… primal. Like you were trying to hold them in, but you felt so good that you couldn’t help it. They were involuntary grunts, yells, and gasps. Just the memory of it made Mando hard under his armor.

Not to mention, you had never felt this way before. You didn’t know that there was an expectation for women to be loud and exaggerated in bed. The sounds you made were all you, and that is what got to Mando most.

Mando was pulled out of his daydreams as you approached him, feeling around his arms and shoulders.

“Do you have any cuts? What do you need treated? We don’t have a ton of bacta kits left, but if you really need it then-“

“I’m okay, I’m not hurt. Just a little bruised. All I want is some food and to hang out with you and the kid.”

You and Mando had grown accustomed to eating or drinking back-to-back since the drinking game that started all of this. It was better than Mando locking himself away in his quarters; he hadn’t shared a meal with someone in years. But being able to chat with you and enjoy his food was a luxury.

“What did this guy do?” you asked as you munched on some bread and cheese.

“No clue. They never really tell me, which I kinda get. A lot of these guys are scum bags, they should be ashamed,” Mando responded, taking a sip of water.

“Did this one put up a fight?”

“At first, but then he realized he couldn’t beat me.” You shivered for a moment, thinking about Mando’s strength. You knew the armor added another layer to make him seem bigger and stronger, but even without it he was built. He didn’t have a six-pack, he wasn’t totally shredded, but Maker, was he strong. His arms, his chest, his broad fucking shoulders, they made you needy. You had seen him knock out a man in one punch, some guy who had grabbed your ass at a bar. You didn’t know at the time why you felt an ache between your legs when you saw that, but now you do after your lessons.

After you had both eaten and fed Grogu, Mando decided it was time to depart to catch his second bounty. You grabbed any gear still lingering outside the ship, secured any loose weapons, and in no time Mando was preparing to take off. You were off to Naboo this time, a planet you had been dying to visit. Almost all of the planets Mando had taken you to were either barren or covered in buildings, large urban areas. Naboo was green, apparently, with beautiful buildings and cascading waterfalls. You couldn’t wait.

Mando sat in the pilot’s chair as you sat behind him in the passenger’s seat. Grogu, still exhausted from the three-day strike on sleep, snoozed in his enclosed pram in the captain’s quarters. So it was just you and Mando…

It was a bumpy takeoff; although Mando was a great pilot, the Crest wasn’t exactly shiny and new. The ship left Tattoine’s atmosphere, and after a few minutes of cruising in empty space, Mando put the ship into hyperspace.

It was quiet as Mando hit some random buttons and you watched the stars fly by you at an insane speed. You thought about last night, not remembering much other than coming hard. Were you dreaming? You remember waking to Mando’s arms around your waist and his face buried in your chest, but everything during the night was a blur.

“When… when you came back last night, did you fall right to sleep? Or did you-“

“Eat your pussy? Yeah, I just wanted to taste you. I hope that’s okay.” You gulped, slightly shocked at Mando’s bluntness. You were only really used to hearing him talk dirty while in the act, not him bringing it up so casually. You squirmed a bit in your seat, causing Mando to turn back to look at you.

“What, you like that? You like that I couldn’t wait for you to wake up before I tasted your cum? Yeah, I bet you do, pretty girl,” he rasped, making you whine and your legs clench together.

“Why don’t you come sit?”

“I’m… already sitting, Mando.”

“No, come sit over here, with me. On me.” Stars.

You rose from your seat as Mando turned his chair to face you so you’d have room to sit without the control panel in the way. His legs spread, and he sat back in his chair with his arms resting on his knees. Kriff, he looked so fucking good.

You weren’t sure how Mando wanted you to sit on him, so you straddled one of his thighs, gasping as the hard metal plate met your core.

“Oh, is that what you want, sweet thing? You wanna sit on my thigh?”

“Yeah Mando, can I please?”

“Of course, baby, just wasn’t expecting you to sit on me like that.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself in closer to him. As you moved closer, you couldn’t ignore the way it felt when you rubbed yourself on his armored thigh. It felt fucking good, the same friction you felt when Mando would use his fingers on you. Out of instinct, you couldn’t help but do it again.

“Oh fuck, is my good girl gonna grind on my thigh? Does that feel good?” You whined, Mando’s hands grasping your hips to encourage your movements. “Go ahead, baby, get yourself off on me. Take what’s yours.”

“M-Mando… feels s-so good…” Your hips sped up as the friction continued to nurse the ache growing in your cunt.

“Want it to feel better, honey? Here, let me show you,” Mando groaned, lifting you so you were planted not on his thigh, but directly over his crotch. He wasn’t wearing a codpiece, you didn’t expect him to when all he was doing was flying. So you gasped when you felt his hard cock rub up against you cunt.

“Oh, s-stars, Mando, I like this a lot…”

“Yeah? You like feeling my cock rub on you? Go ahead, grind on it, make yourself feel good.” His grip on your hips were bruising as you ground your pussy hard onto his crotch. The head of his cock nudged itself right against your clit between your clothes, making your eyes cross and hands grasp at Mando’s shoulders.

“Oh, I bet that feels s-so good, pretty girl, it feels good for m-me too… Fuck, I can feel how wet you are, it’s seeping through my pants. Keep going, you’re doing so good for me.”

Your moans got louder and louder, sounding out as “uh uhs.” Your eyebrows creased together, and Mando grabbed your cheeks to tilt your eyes down towards his.

“Look at me, baby, let me see you when you cum. Let me look into your eyes. Maker, your p-pussy is so wet, I can feel it. Come on baby I know you wanna cum, go ahead and cum.” You were shouting now, your moans echoing in the cockpit. This was the closest the two of you had gotten to fucking, and the idea of Mando’s cock being so close to your cunt sent you over the edge.

Warmth flooded you, and your legs shook violently as you came. Your thighs clenched over and over around his hips, keeping your eyes right on his visor.

“Fuck, Mando, fuck fuck, Mando, Mando!”

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl. So f-fucking good for me.” As you came down, you noticed Mando was still hard. And you still wanted him.

“Can… Can I have you? In my mouth?”

“Shit, baby, you want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Please, Mando, want you to feel good. Want your cock down my throat.” You shakily climbed off his lap and knelt to the ground. Your hands trembled as they came up to his pants, tugging at the waistband until his cock sprung up against his armor. You looked at the thigh you had just been grinding on, and saw there was a wet spot staining his armor. It made you want to cum again.

“I’m not gonna last long baby, already so close,” Mando rasped out, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation.

“I don’t care, I just need you to tell me what to do.”

“Gladly, sweet girl. Start by licking the tip, yeah just like that.” You flicked the bead of precum leaking from Mando’s cock, his taste flooding your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the tip, eventually licking down his shaft. You had almost forgotten how big he was… almost.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good. Y-You want to put it in your mouth now? You got this, baby, take it nice and- oh f-fuck me.” Your actions interrupted Mando’s train of thought, his cock entering the warm wet of your mouth. You weren’t totally sure what to do from there; Mando had just said he wanted his cock in your mouth, so now what?

“Okay, baby, you know how you stroked my cock with your hand the other day? Just do the same with your mouth, and suck while you do it. G-gonna do so well for me, I know it.” You did as he said, and his reaction was instantaneous. He moaned out so loud you’d think the whole ship could hear it. It finally hit you that Mando’s cock was in your mouth, and stars if that didn’t make a new wave of wetness flood your inner thighs. You couldn’t stop yourself from pushing your hand down your pants, rubbing your clit like Mando taught you as you sucked on him.

“H-Holy shit, baby, are you touching yourself? You rubbing that little clit? Do I make you that wet, pretty one? F-Fuck you’re doing so good, feels so good. Y-You’re a natural…” His words made you moan around his cock, the vibrations making his hips buck up into your mouth. For a second he was worried he’d gone too far, until you pushed your head down even further.

“Fuck, such a g-good girl for me, g-gonna cum in your m-mouth, d-don’t stoppp.” You sucked hard at the tip as your fingers circled faster on your clit, and you were already falling over the edge. Mando’s cum flooded your mouth as he moaned out your name, and his taste made you writhe on your fingers, white flooding your vision. The whines around Mando’s cock as you came made his orgasm last even longer, leaving him totally breathless. It took him a moment to realize that you were still probably holding his cum in your mouth, causing him to jump up and come to your aid.

“Shit, baby, here’s a rag, you can-“ He was stopped short when he noticed you breathing heavily below you, mouth agape and… empty.

“Wait, what did you do with…”

“I swallowed it. I like how you taste,” you whined, totally out of breath and fucked out. Mando’s head hit the back of his seat in awe of how hot you were, swallowing his cum the first time you took him in your mouth, just because you liked it.

“Fuck, come here, baby. Come sit in my lap, let me love on you.” You clambered up into his lap with shaky legs, overwhelmed with the amount of dopamine that flooded your brain. You were still trying to catch your breath as you rested your head on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. These were the moments you held with you when Mando was gone; his comforting touch, how gentle he was despite the damage you knew he could do. You kissed the sliver of skin that peaked out between his collar and his helmet, at which he pulled you in closer to his chest.

All the sudden you heard a crash from below the cockpit and a loud wail… Grogu.

*****

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amysteriousmessenger · 4 years ago

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‘Oh, to serve a Princess’ - Ray x Reader NSFW fanfiction

Pairing: Ray x implied female reader CW: Face-riding, fingering, slightly obsessive and a little more confident Ray who just wants to be used Word Count: 4.8k Rating: Explicit

You hadn’t seen Ray in a couple of days, almost a week actually. He said he’d been so busy doing another job for the Saviour that he hadn’t even had time to sleep and had been eating at his desk. He cried on the phone that every time he’d tried to sneak out to come and visit you, a Believer had been waiting outside for him to ask where was going. You missed him, that much was obvious from the ache in your heart, but the punch in your stomach was the worry you had for him. You’d been at Mint Eye for several months, but you had yet to see what tied him so subserviently to the Saviour, besides fear. You’d hoped that he’d at least been eating decently while at his desk, but the various candy bar wrapper sounds you had heard over the phone told you otherwise. You couldn’t help but sigh as you stared out of the window into the night sky. The garden was so beautiful, and you knew how much Ray cherished the flowers growing within it. And yet, it brought you little joy to be enjoying it without him.

Averting your gaze towards the small decorative birdcage that resided in the corner of your room, you couldn’t help but see Ray flash before your eyes again as you touched one of the thin metal bars. Even in the dark lighting of your room, the cage glinted a brilliant gold. You supposed that the cage was just like Magenta. It was so pretty and ornate that, surely, a bird would want to fly willingly towards the gilded embrace it to be loved safely from within its bars. A small bird that longed for protection, to live peacefully. However, it was only when that bird flew into the cage that they would realise it was exactly that: a cage. You felt sick, wiping your fingers against the fabric of your black dress. You’d previously been wearing the dresses that Ray had brought you but they were being cleaned and he’d told you he’d gotten you a new dress, but you hadn’t seen him since he mentioned it. So, you remained in the Mint Eye standard black dress, it was pretty, so you didn’t mind. You looked back between the cage and the garden and figured that the garden would be the lesser of two evils since you’d at least be able to get some fresh air. You grabbed your phone, ID card, and a light shawl just in case it was cold. You didn’t have many shoes with you, but the ground looked dry enough to just wear some light slip-on shoes.

You looked back at the cage once again before swiftly making your way to the door, pulling it open, and having your heart jump out of your chest immediately. Someone was on the other side. It took a second or two for your eyes to adjust and to realise that it was Ray. He hardly looked like Ray. His under-eyes looked practically bruised, he’d lost more weight and he was swaying slightly. He utterly looked exhausted.

‘Ray, are you okay?’ You asked, taking in his appearance. He had brought you a bouquet of gorgeous red roses, but you were more concerned about having him get a little bit of colour in his cheek than the deep rouge of the petals.

‘Yes! I am fine, please do not worry about me, my sweet flower. Might I come in? I know it’s late… I’ve only just finished my work.’

‘Of course, you can but… Ray, you should get some rest first.’ You replied, very much wanting him to get the sleep that he had been so deprived of.

‘A-ah, yes, of course… I did not mean to be a burden, I just hoped I could see you. I went to pick these flowers before I came here, to make up for not visiting’ His half-gloved hands moved the flowers towards you, a pleading look sneaking onto his face. He knew exactly how to have you putty in his hands.

‘Oh, Ray. You’re not a burden. Come in, please, sit down and eat something. They’re so pretty, you know that red roses are my favo- A-ah! Ow!’ you flinched, pulling your hand back from the roses. You’d pricked your finger on a rose thorn. It was only a small drop of blood and didn’t particularly hurt after the initial sting. It was just a tiny dot of blood but, to Ray, it was as though his love had directly hurt you. You didn’t think it was possible, but the colour seemed to drain from his face even more as you watched the panic strike across his features.

‘My princess, I’m so sorry! This is all my fault, I should have de-thorned the roses! I’m so stupid! Useless! I didn’t think and now you’re h-hurt!’ Tears began to well in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful, even then.

‘It’s okay, Ray! It’s just a little bit of blood, I just need to take the thorn out.’ You tried to console him as he blamed himself.

‘Please, allow me.’ Ray followed you into the room hurriedly, locking the door behind him. He took the roses from you and placed them on your vanity table. He knew his way around your room very well, since he had personally designed it, and retrieved a small first-aid box from your bathroom. You didn’t think he needed to go to such an effort for such a small, insignificant injury, but figured it would probably bring him a little bit of joy to let him care for you after not being able to see you for so long. He guided you towards your bed, as though you were mortally wounded, and sat down next to you as he fumbled through the small box. He set aside a small band-aid, disinfectant spray, tweezers, and cleaning wipe. You felt bad for worrying ray, especially since he’d had such a rough few days, so you wanted to try and lessen his emotional burden by taking the blame.

‘I’m so clumsy, I usually burn my hands a lot.’ You started before laughing and adding ‘Maybe I should get a pair of gloves like yours, so I stop hurting my fingers so much.’

‘My gloves stop me from biting my nails so much. I often don’t realise I’m doing it but sometimes I just get so anxious. My Saviour told me to wear them to stop biting at my nails and to hide them from her sight, she says my hands aren’t pretty to look at. That they’re a sign of my weakness… Maybe, when I get stronger, I’ll be okay without them. I’m sorry, I need to take the thorn out…’ He whispered as he used the tweezers to remove the thin spike from your skin, making the blood form in a little bubble on the surface of your skin. You could feel your heart clenching as you heard Ray speak about his gloves, and part of you wished you hadn’t mentioned it.

‘It’s okay. I like your gloves Ray, they make you look princely.’ You smiled, using your other hand to gently place your hand on his knee. You felt him tense up for a moment before ever-so-slightly moving closer into your touch.

‘Princely? I-I don’t think I’m good enough for that… but, I’d like to be your prince, if you’d let me, princess.’ Ray replied, averting his gaze back to your finger as he delicately wiped at your finger. Clearly, he was no stranger to disinfecting wounds.

‘You look just like a Prince. I was reading earlier, ‘The Happy Prince’ by Oscar Wilde specifically, and when I read about the Prince having sapphires for eyes, I pictured yours.’ You reached your hand up to stroke his cheek softly with the back of your fingers. You didn’t have the heart to tell him how sad the story of ‘The Happy Prince’ was.

‘Ah… I don’t really know what to say.’ Ray focused on cleaning your finger, his face growing warm under your affection. He couldn’t have hidden the light dusting of a blush even if he had tried.

‘Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you… Your eyes are just pretty.’ You added, worried that you had somehow made him uncomfortable. It was unlike you to be so upfront with Ray, but you just had a pull, a need, to make sure he knew how precious he truly was. He’d never think it for himself, so you wanted to make sure someone told him, at the very least, that he was cherished.

‘P-pretty? I’ve never considered myself pretty, but I like pretty things, like you, and flowers, and the sky… Will you allow me to do something a little bolder than usual?’ He asked, pulling his icy eyes up to meet your gaze for a moment.

‘Of course.’ You knew he’d never do anything without your consent, and you trusted Ray to always treat you with tenderness, so even his ‘boldness’ was sweet. He took a quick intake of breath before bringing your fingertip up to his lips and placing the softest kiss upon where the small prick of blood had begun to reappear, leaving a tiny dot of red on his lips when they left your flesh.

‘I want to… be a Prince for you. They kiss their beloved’s hands, right? And uhm, they- they kiss their love to break the spell.’ He spoke, looking back at your hand as he cupped it with both of his own.

‘True Love’s first kiss? But we’ve kissed before.’ You added, a little confused. You’d done more than kiss before, you’d been with Ray for a few months and the intimacy had been forthcoming. Ray’s adoration was obsessive and, whilst he struggled to accept it, no amount of physical affection was ever enough. He always craved more from the second it was over. But he was uncertain and shy, so sometimes he didn’t know how to ask for more and would, in turn, suffer until you next bestowed it upon him.

‘I wasn’t a Prince then… I want to look after you and treat you like a Princess.’ He said, wrapping the band-aid around your finger and only released your hand to tidy the first-aid box away. You noticed that he hadn’t wiped the blood from his lips despite there being no way that he wasn’t aware of its presence. It was probably the most colour he had on his face at that moment, even in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Ray was almost ghostly in appearance, and yet, so beautiful. It pained you that he couldn’t see that in himself.

‘Okay, you can be my Prince, Ray.’ You whispered. It took a moment for him to hesitate before he tentatively pressed his lips against yours. You hadn’t seen Ray for so long, you had almost forgotten how much you craved his touch. His lips were cold and chapped, more so than usual because of having not looked after himself properly. There was a small tinge from the metallic taste of blood before it quickly vanished, and you could taste the hint of all the sugary snacks that Ray had been subsisting on in his IT room. He was quicker to deepen the kiss than usual, not that you were complaining, but at some point or another: you needed to stop to breathe. It was painfully obvious by the darkening look in Ray’s eyes that he’d have much rather given you his last breath than to pull apart for just a moment longer because as soon as he could, he was back to steal intoxicating kisses from you. You supposed it was due to the lengthy separation that had made Ray be this needy, almost to the point of obsessive , but his kisses were like a drunken summer’s evening: warm and yearning. Yearning for the heat he was so constantly deprived of.

This wasn’t your first time together, so Ray knew what you liked. He knew you liked when he kissed down your neck, when his fingertips danced along your bare shoulders, or when you could feel him whispering into your ear. He was always so meticulously focused on pleasing you that always knew what to do even if he didn’t always have the confidence to execute it without coaxing. This was not one of those times. Ray felt this hunger for you each time, but this time, he didn’t feel the same level of uncertainty that he usually did. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe it was having not had his hands on you in almost a week, but at that moment: you were the drug that Ray was the most addicted to. As he kissed along your neck, your hands found their way into his soft, white hair. Without either of you mentioning it, you both fell back onto the bed together, with Ray leaning over you to continue kissing the sensitive skin on your throat. You couldn’t help but let out small gasps and whimpers under his touch, you really had missed him, after all.

‘Ray…’ You half said, half-moaned. You could feel yourself getting turned on, but the rational part of your brain was reminding you that Ray should get some sleep after having worked for such a long period of time. You wanted him to look after himself, even though that clearly wasn’t at the forefront of his own mind in that moment.

‘Yes, my Princess?’ He pulled away from your neck to ask, looking down into your face from above. He was panting slightly, and you didn’t think it was just from the kissing. Like you, he was flushed in the face and his eyes were half-lidded from sheer hunger.

‘Don’t you think… that you should get some sleep? You were working for so long.’ You said, reaching a hand down from his head to cup his face.

‘D-do you want me to stop?’ Ray asked quickly, a moment of panic flashing that perhaps he had gotten too ahead of himself, that you didn’t want his touch.

‘No, but you’re tired and-’

‘This…is nothing. What kind of Prince doesn’t give his Princess the attention that she deserves, especially after he’s neglected her all week? I-I’ll do anything you ask of me, since it’s you.’ Ray was relieved that it wasn’t him misreading the situation, and you were just concerned for his wellbeing. This wasn’t the lost endurance test he’d had; he could stay awake a little bit longer if it meant getting to be in your company. That much he could manage.

‘A-ah…’ You gasped as he turned to kiss along your bare shoulder. You had missed the sensation of being underneath him like this. His cravat was lightly tickling your chest and you laughed involuntarily. He didn’t take his mouth off of you, but you felt him reach up to his neck with one hand and tug the cravat loose, so it didn’t tickle you as much. He also undid his top button, probably to allow himself to breathe better.

‘H-how do you want me to please you?’ Ray asked, still looking for the confidence to be bolder with verbalising what he wanted to say.

‘Mhm, touch me… Ray.’ You moaned into his ear. You decided that if he really wanted to spend the night with his first moment of freedom, who were you to deny the both of you that enjoyment?

‘Like- like this?’ He asked as he tentatively laid on the bed, half next to you and half on top of you. His gloved hand slowly moved up towards your inner thigh as you parted them to grant him access. Ray’s hand disappeared underneath the hem of your black dress as his fingers found the fabric of your underwear. His confidence seemed to falter for a moment of uncertainty until your own hands found their way into his hair again and you pressed a few butterfly kisses against his sharp jawline.

Usually, Ray took his gloves off to touch you since you wouldn’t actually see his hands in the darkness, but this time he kept them on, primarily because you said that you liked them, and secondly because he wanted to live up to the princely imagery you had described to him. His fingers pressed against you gently, moving in small circular motions up and down the length of you. He’d occasionally vary the pressure depending on which spot he was touching, since he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. He was teasing you and he didn’t even realise he was doing it. Ray quickly found the spot which made you moan the most. Since he was wearing his gloves, he couldn’t physically feel how turned on you were, so he relied on the mewls you emitted to know that he was doing a good job.

‘More… please.’ You sighed underneath his touch. Ray’s hand found its way into your underwear and you moaned into his mouth as you continued to kiss him, It was safe to say that the situation that definitely gotten heated, but you couldn’t tell from whose face the heat radiated the most, ‘Yeah, just like that…’ You affirmed as his fingers circled around your folds, occasionally teasing at your clit. You briefly wondered why he’d didn’t keep his gloves on for this more often, it felt so good. It carried a certain emotion, being touched with leather gloves, that was making you physically weak at the knees. As much as you enjoyed the feeling of his skin on you, you couldn’t deny that the gloves were definitely doing it for you too. He could feel the slickness of your arousal as his gloved fingers slid along your folds until you were melting against his chest. Ray liked that he was in a position to be able to continuously kiss you as he stroked you, he needed all of you at once. He wanted to be in every single one of your senses, the same way that you were all-encompassing to his. His fingers left you briefly, and you mourned for the sudden lost sensation.

‘My princess, would you mind, uhm, lifting your hips up for me?’ He asked in a husky manner that was almost unlike him. He sounded so needy, you immediately complied and helped him to remove your underwear. While you were there, you also kicked off the slipped that you had put on for your long-forgotten walk into the garden. Once you laid back down, Ray’s obsessive hands soon found their way back to your body.

After another minute or so of circling your clit, his fingers lowered themselves to your entrance. He waited, asking for permission, before slowly entering you with his hand. As always, he was patient with your body, especially after having not touched you for a while. He added one finger at first, moving it slowly to let you adjust, before quickly adding another. You had missed the feeling of having him inside you like this. Ray had to adjust his wrist slightly before he continued to let him curl his finger against you, rubbing along your wall in a ‘come hither’ motion. While you had some lube in your bedside table, you didn’t think there’d be a need for it, since you could feel how turned on you were from the cool air hitting the wetness on your thighs. You moaned out affection and affirmations to Ray as he increased his speed as he let you pull him into kisses at will or held his head against your chest. However you wanted to hold him, he’d happily go along with it.

‘It’s so good, Ray- ah, right there!’ You choked as he hit the spot that made you almost see stars. He tried to focus on hitting that spot, again and again, his hand becoming wetter and wetter which each passing tap on your g-spot. You were somewhat embarrassed that you could actually hear the motion of Ray’s fingers moving in and out of you but it just seemed to spur him on more. He really was talented with those fingers.

‘I want... more. I saw something that I want to try. I-I promise I’ll do my best to make it feel good… I don’t quite know how to phrase it. I want to taste you, from above-’ He explained, slightly haphazardly.

‘Are you sure? Won’t I be too heavy?’ You questioned; a little bit uncertain of his request.

‘Of course not. In the video I saw, they used a pillow to support their neck and-’ He started, but you couldn’t help interject with laughter.

‘Ray, were you watching porn?’ It just seemed so out of character for him.

‘No! I mean, technically, yes. It wasn’t mine… I was checking that none of the Believers were trying to look at stuff they shouldn’t be and I… found a video. I thought it looked like you might enjoy it. I found that I… wanted to please you like that.’ His face flushed with embarrassment, even after everything that had just happened, he was suddenly embarrassed that he stumbled across and watched a porn video.

‘We can try it, if you want.’ The embarrassment spread from Ray to you, realising that you were, in fact, going to be sitting on his face. You were a little bit self-conscious about your body, so you said you wanted to keep your dress on, and Ray replied that thought you were beautiful, but he understood body issues and wouldn’t push you since this was already out of your comfort zone. Ray removed his fingers from you again and, with his other hand, he laid a pillow flat on the bed and positioned it so his neck was supported at a slight angle. You were a little nervous about hurting him, but since he wanted to try it, you were willing to give it a try.

You sat up, unsure how to how exactly you were supposed to get on his face without crushing him, but still equally as desperate for stimulation. You lifted your dress up and bunched it at your hips, throwing one leg over Ray’s chest so you were almost straddling him at the next. You waited for him to give the okay to move closer and put yourself in his mouth. You felt his hands steady your thighs as he nudged you close to him, clearly equally as eager to use his mouth on you as you were to have him do it.

Ray started with a few small, sensitive kisses along your folds, earning small shudders from above. You felt a little scared to move, in case you fell and hurt him, so you intended to just let him take his time in what he was doing, he was going you so much attention after all. You felt him stick out his tongue and run it in a line up and down you, your breath hitching in your throat when he grazed it over your clit again and again. And then, almost all at once, Ray pushed your hips into your face, so you were completely on his mouth. It was as though something took over him, a hungry desire that he didn’t verbalise, but you could see burning in his eyes as he took mouthful after mouthful of you, You threw your head back in pleasure and choked out his name in broken moans. You hadn’t expected Ray to be so upfront with wanting to do something like this, and then actually taking control with it.

His gloved hands were on your hips, moving you over his mouth with speed. He was practically begging you to use him, to let him make you feel good. Ray wanted nothing more than to be useful to you, especially like this. He needed that useless body of his to be good for something, to be good for you. He’d never want for anything ever again if you were to, at the very least, allow him to stay by your side like this. This much he could do. Was it selfish of him to think such a thing? Perhaps. But he decided that, with everything he’d endured in his life, he was allowed to keep that one selfish thought close to his heart. It was a little difficult for him to manage while you were obstructing his view, but Ray undid his trousers and began lightly touching his own erection since it had become uncomfortable to ignore, using your own arousal on his gloves as a lubricant. He was already painfully hard from pleasuring you, but he didn’t need any of the attention to be on him tonight, he wanted to be there just to please you, to serve you.

He stroked himself with one hand and continued to guide you over his face with the other. He particularly liked it when you found the confidence to grip your hands in his hair and start moving yourself against his tongue, using him in the way he wanted you to. You had already been starting to get close to an orgasm when Ray had had his hands inside of you, so it didn’t take very long for the sensation to start building once again. Personally, Ray didn’t have too much stamina so he had to delay his own orgasm for as long as possible to be able to continue watching the show above him to his utmost benefit. He preferred watching you as you moved against him, and he felt drunk when you made eye contact with him whilst you did it. He was the only one who got to see you like this, the only one. He didn’t care what he had to do to keep it that way, he’d be possessive, obsessive, compulsive if needs be to ensure that that would remain the case.

Above, you felt the pressure of an orgasm building quickly under the merciless assault of Ray’s tongue. You could feel that Ray was picking up his own pace and moaning onto you, which felt fucking great. He was starting to get close too, which made sense because of how aroused he had been just from touching you. Besides, he definitely hadn’t had any time to release himself all week, he was probably just a bit pent up too. His lips were pursed over your clit, swapping between kissing it and sucking on it and then using his tongue when you picked up speed in order to let you fuck yourself on it, praises and prayers falling freely from your mouth.

‘Fuc- Ray! I think I’m gonna-’ You didn’t even have a chance to finish your statement before Ray picked up the speed he was moving your hips at, quickly sending you over the edge in his mouth. Did he stop moving you, just because you’d climaxed? Absolutely not. Through the blinding pleasure, Ray continued to use his mouth on you until your legs started to twitch from the overstimulation. It was watching you writhe above him, knowing that he’d done such a good job that allowed him to find his own orgasm too, quickly releasing over his hand. He touched himself through his peak, mentally visualising how both of your arousals must look mixed between his fingertips. He closed his eyes, feeling lost in the moment where all of his pent-up frustrations from the last week came crumbling down into a moment of practical peace.

When he was done, you removed yourself from his mouth and collapsed on the bed next to him. You were both panting heavily as you crawled to his side, placing exhausted kisses along his jaw and temple. His hair was a mess from where you’d run your hands through it, but you thought it just made him look cute. You weren’t surprised to see how quickly the exhaustion took over Ray after he caught his breath and you convinced him to take the risk and sleep in your room for the night, since you weren’t entirely certain he’d made it all of the way back to his own room without passing out. You took turns in the bathroom, cleaning yourselves up from the unfolded events of the night, and crawled into bed together.

‘I love you, Ray. I really do.’ You said, embraced in one another’s arms in the darkness.

‘I love you too, my sweet Princess.’ He replied, clearly trying to fight off the sleep to continue talking to you.

You pressed one more kiss into his pale cheek, ‘I wish you’d know how precious you were to me.’ You whispered, but he was already unconscious.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger reader insert #saeran choi #saeran choi x reader #ray mystic messenger #ray x reader #ray mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger hc #mysme fanfiction #mysme fanfic

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plush-rabbit · 5 years ago

Text

Oh My Baby, I Love You

Warnings: NSFW

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: Did I take liberties with the things from the series like Kiri and Suneater?? Yes. Yes I did.

Toyomitsu Taishiro loves his work. He loves walking around and have people, more often than not kids, run up to him and ask for a picture, happy to see him and bouncing in their step when they gaze upon him. He enjoys the things that his work has brought. The good and the bad. The bright, smiling faces of the people he has saved and the angry, distorted faces of people who would commit such atrocities. He protects with everything he has, smiles wide and eyes determined.

He’s rarely seen without his fat. Only using it in dire situations and once lost, always quick to eat and round in the belly that makes him appear soft and loveable but at the same time strong and willing to protect even if it truly does mean to use all he’s got.

He has two kids he’s mentoring, Kirishima Eijiro, with a brilliant quirk who has the spirit of a hero, and Amajiki Tamaki, a boy who puts himself down before anyone else can but who is already as strong as a pro. He protected Kirishima, who allowed him to be able to take the shield down, who still didn’t recognize him since all his fat was used as an attack. He thinks that was the moment it clicked. When he went to check on the boy in the hospital, a tray of untouched food in one and a bag of treats in hand, he felt proud when the young child told him to sit and share, was listening with every fiber in his being as the child recounted the story of the night and how the hospital staff was kind. There was an odd sense in him that wanted to hug the child when he winced and pulled on a healing injury, who wanted to pet his hair and coo words of courage into his ear but he knew that it wouldn’t be seen as how he would have meant it. It would have been laughed off, perhaps, or maybe he would have delighted him in his role as a mentor, to allow him to pretend that he truly did have a child who was out protecting the city with the same fierce excitement that Kirishima has.

On the trek back home, a bag of greasy food in one hand and mouth stuffed with french fries, he took notice of all the families he saw. He saw little children crying and sniffling as their parents kissed their scraped knees, smiling through the tears and nodding that they felt better. He saw children being carried on their parent’s shoulders, a tight grip on their ankles as the child screamed through fear and excitement. He saw with his two light golden eyes, families that stayed close together and smiled as they walked hand in hand, swinging their children through the air, hands intertwined as they watched the child play on the swingset in the park.

Food could no longer fill the void. This void was not his stomach, no it was worse than that. It hurt to think about it for too long, aching every time he saw a child, felt itself squeeze when he saw your sleeping form and placed a hand over your stomach hoping to feel a difference- hoping to feel a kick.

He desperately wanted a child. Wanted a family with you. To come home and see you and a little bundle of wheat colored hair sleeping on your chest. Wanted you to swell with his love as the eldest ran up to him, ran up to his father, and showed him a picture they drew of him while he was away.

He thinks you want one as well. You’ve never voiced it but you let him please you without protection, without a quiet mumble to pull out and let you taste him on your tongue. No, instead you allow him to go deep in you, to feel your gummy walls clench around his member and wrap your legs around him when he pumps you full of his seed.

You gave him enough trust to have his way with you, to envelop you and fill you until you had begun to leak, covering it close with your hand but still having it drip and seep between your fingers.

He never tells you, a part of him is fearful that it would be too much and you would find it disgusting and another part knowing that what he already leaves in you is too much. But every time he’s in the shower, with a tight grip around his already twitching cock, he’s never satisfied, he’s never filled you until he was content, until he was empty. He always pulls himself away, never wanting to hurt you and with enough self control to realize that perhaps you don’t want the life he wants. So instead he goes into the shower and bites down on his hand as he watches his cum flow down the drain. A thought always crossed his mind as knees trembled and breath slowly became steady: perhaps that’s why you weren’t getting pregnant- because he never did the full job.

He stands in front of the door, key in hand and he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head and clicks open the door, his face brightening instantly as he smells your cooking. Eyes look around for a glimpse of you, thoughts that perhaps he doesn’t need a family to be happy, he already has you and you’re more than enough. But when he sees you in a frilly apron colored pink with a dark red heart in the middle of your chest those thoughts are quickly flushed away. You’d be the cutest little housewife. He could do his job, you can be at home with the children and at night he could fill you up all over again. He can feel his cock jerk at the thought of it.

He knocks on the table and you startle. You look at him with wide eyes, posture stiff until you realize it’s just him. “I didn’t expect you back so soon,” your voice is calming and you smile at him before returning to stirring the meat on the skillet. “How is Kirishima doing? I was thinking I could bake something for him and you could take it over next time you go.” You’re so caring, so sweet to care about a child that you had never met before.

“He’s doing great! I’m sure he’ll be out by tomorrow or even tonight if he’s lucky.” He’s cheery when he talks about the students he’s mentoring. “How was your day?” Large hands wrap themselves around your waist and he places a kissing the space where your jaw meets your neck.

You lean towards him, feeling his body against your back and humming. “That’s good to hear,” you muse. “My day was fine, I just went shopping today and had lunch with some friends.” You crane your head and kiss his chin, smiling when he presses his face closer to yours. “Dinner should be ready in a few,” you mumble against his skin, placing one last kiss on him.

He hums and with reluctant hands slipping off your waist, he goes to the bathroom to wash up. He splashes water on his face and looks at himself in the reflection, swiping a hand down and drops of water splash into the sink. The cold water on his skin does nothing to cool down his warming body. Hands inch down to wear his cock is straining against him, pressing into the cabinets. He lets out a shaky sigh and pulls himself away, shaking his head.

“Get it together,” he says to himself, grabbing a towel and wiping his face with it. “I can get through dinner with them and then we can go to bed.” His face burns at the thought of the bedroom, already picturing himself between your thighs. He hears his name called, muffled through the closed door and he nods, licking his lips and smoothing back his hair.

You’re setting down the plates, drinks already set and hair pulled back and you look up at him as he enters the dining room. “I tried a new recipe today,” you push a strand of hair behind your ear, “I hope it tastes good,” you give him a sheepish smile that makes him want to scoop you in his arms.

So he does. “I’m sure it will,” he mumbles against your neck, face nuzzling into you and hands pressed against your back.

“Someone missed me,” you chuckle, petting his hair and humming when he presses another kiss to you.

“Missed you like crazy.” He makes no intention to let go, pressing you closer against him and breathing you in,hands that slide down to the small of your back.

“Tai,” you whisper softly, fingers entangled in his hair, “our food is gonna get cold.”

He peels away from you and throws his head back as he walks to his plate. “I’m getting my fill later,” he says nonchalantly, grabbing a forkful of the dish you made.

“You always get your fill,” you tease, slipping into the seat across from him.

He’s silent, eyebrows furrowed as he bites into his food, letting out a satisfactory hum. “Ish really good!” He exclaims, hand covering his mouth as he talks.

You smile widely at him, proud at the meal you cooked. Idle chatter began to fill the room, back and forth where he would comment on your day, little hums and nods to show he was still listening. You shook your head, stifling a smile as you recounted lunch with your friends, waving it off as an inside joke. You cleared your throat and turned your interest to him.“So what else did you do today? Were you with Kirishima all day?” You take a sip of your drink and look at him expectantly.

“Oh no, not all day,” Taishiro says in between bites, “I took the long way home after I stopped by to get some food.”

“What did you get?”

“Just a burger and fries.” He pats his stomach and grins at you. “Gotta build up all that weight again.”

“If I had known that you wanted to fill up quickly, I would’ve made more than two servings.” You smile apologetically at him and lean back into your chair. “Sorry dear, guess I forgot.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he waves a hand towards you, taking the last bite out of his dinner. “I can always carbo load tomorrow.” He glances up at you and kicks your leg gently underneath the table. “If you want you can help me load up?” He feels his chest swell when you smile at him. “I always love your cooking.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere, you know that Taishiro.” He feels a chill run up his spine when you say his name and he leans forward to you. “How’s the other kid? Amajiki?”

“He’s doing great, you know? With his resolve and great power, he’s sure to be a top hero in no time!” He’s also so excited when he talks about them, standing straighter with a bigger grin on his face that shines so bright that it reminds you of the sun.

“You’re always so passionate about those kids,” you smile, taking the last sip from your drink, “I’m sure when we have our kids, they’ll be great too.” You start to put your utensils on the plate, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

Taishiro’s face falls and eyes go wide. He has a blank expression and he’s staring at you with his mouth slightly agape. “What?” He asks softy, barely above a whisper.

Your shoulders jump and your eyes go wide, the fork in your hand drops onto the porcelain plate and makes a high pitched chinking sound. You snap your neck up at him that it hurts, your mouth pressed into a thin line and heat rising onto your face. “I, um,” you trail off, “I have to go do the dishes!” You jump from your seat and reach across to grab his finished plate and scurry off to the sink.

He stares at your empty seat, his mind empty of all thoughts save for the sentence you had just said before you fled. You wanted kids too. Or at least it sounded as if you also wanted a family too. And then he didn’t respond to you. Oh no. He didn’t respond. The chair scrapes across the wooden floor and he walks swiftly in the kitchen where the water pressure is on high and your hands are covered in soap suds.

“Um, can we talk?” He sounds nervous even to himself. His voice is strained and he feels uncomfortable staring at your back as you keep your head down.

“Sorry can’t hear you!” You raise your voice comically. “Water is too high!”

He snatches a dish towel off of the oven handle and presses his stomach against your back. The room is silent without the sound of rushing water. He can feel his heart beat against his chest and he wonders if you can hear it too. “I-”

“I’m sorry!” Your head is bowed down and he can see from the space between your hair that your ears are deep shade of red. “I was just talking out loud. I mean it’s silly. We’re not even married-”

“We can get married.” He interjects quickly and takes a small step back when you turn around. He brings his hand in between the both of you and hands you the dish towel.

You take it with shaky fingers and twist it around your hand. “That’s,” you pause, “that’s not a funny joke Taishiro,” your eyebrows knit and you can’t make eye contact with him, keeping your gaze focused on the towel knotted in your hands.

“‘S not a joke.” He clasps his hands over yours, fingers dipping into the towel and your own fingers flinch and coil tighter with the faux touch. “I really love you,” he licks his lips and bends down to look into your eyes. “I can get a ring soon and actually propose but this-” he gestures with a finger to you and him- “I want to be with you.”

You nod slowly and chew on your bottom lip. He can see unshed tears brim. He releases his hands from your and brings his hands to cup your face, thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

There’s a slight shudder in your chest and you take in a breath. Your cup on his hands and turn your face, lips tickle his palm as you begin to speak. “I want kids, are-”

“Kids would be great. I want kids,” he has the desperate urge to hold you tight and never let go, “Kids now would be great.” When you turn to him sharply with eyes wide, he retracts. “Kids whenever you want would be great.”

“Taishiro,” you whisper and step into him, wrapping your arms around him as the decorative dish towel flutters onto the floor, “are you sure?”

“I cum in you for a reason don’t I?” He jokes.

He laughs when he hears your offended gasp. “Taishi!” You playfully slap his arm and pull away, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “I thought that was just a kink!”

The mood in the air is lighter, more playful, as he laughs and grabs your hands and presses your face into his chest, his laughter causing deep vibrations. “It is a kink! I swear!” He feels your knee thwack his. “I also want a family!” He pulls away from you and holds your face in his hands, hands reaching behind to undo your ponytail. Your hair falls into a fluff and thick fingers brush away at strands. “I want it all with you,” he smiles softly and presses his forehead against yours with closed eyes.

“Yeah, I want it all with you too,” you whisper. “Wait,” you straighten, eyes narrowed at him. “You came in for the kink or the family?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. His hands intertwine with yours as he leads you to the bedroom. “You let me cum in you.” He retorts.

“Yeah, cause it’s hot, if I had known you wanted to breed me I would’ve let you done it a lot sooner.”

He looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. “You wanted to be bred?”

You huff and cross your arms, sitting on the bed with one leg crossed over the other. He can see bright red bloom down your neck. “Can we just-” you clear your throat and uncross your legs, fingers around the bottom edge of your shirt.

You look away from him and bite on your bottom lip. He steps forward and sits on his knees, hands placed firmly on your knees. “You need to tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His voice is lowered and he looks at you with all seriousness, eyes clouded and hazed over.

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Taishiro,” you coo, two fingers coming to lift his chin, “please, I want you to breed me. I want to start a family with you.”

There’s a deep silence for a moment, one where you are more exposed than you’ve ever felt before, one where it’s just you two alone, no external factors that could ever ruin this moment. It’s a moment that weighs so heavily, like a comforting blanket and then it’s ripped away as quick as it was brought.

His mouth is on yours, hands that collide with each other as they travel lower and rise, mouths breaking apart for a quick gulp of air. Exposed skin that bumps with the chilled air, hands that warm the chill away, fingertips that ghost over bellies and rising chests. You forget where you start and end, only feeling his mouth against yours, your fingers knotted into his hair and you can feel him grin against you, your own grin coming into shine.

Your back meets the bed, giggling as you pull away, your lips chasing his, eyes clouded with lust. He snickers and starts to pepper kisses down to your neck, hands slide their way up to your breasts, nipples pinched in between soft fingers, rolling the hardening buds around, soft gasps escape from your mouth and you can feel heat begin to bubble in your lower belly.

His mouth leaves wet marks as he travels down, bright red love bites are left in his wake. Hands slide down your body; he grabs your hips with fingertips digging into your hips and you can feel hot breath against your heat, moistening the inner parts of your thighs. His lips trial up your thighs, lingering kisses that stick against your thigh, a tongue that swipes against your burning skin and with his lips that cover your slick ones, mouth wrapping around your clit, tongue pressing flat against it, moving the sensitive bud around, the hands twisted around his hair tightens and pulls him closer against your wanting heat. He mumbles softly into your skin, telling you to be patient. His lips release from your aching bud, his tongue rims around your entrance, pushing forward and tasting your sweet nectar, his tongue pushing and brushing against your gooey walls, your arousal staining his face as he breathes in your scent.

You cry out, muffling your moans with the back of your hand, his hair ruffled and sticking up. There’s a slight hump in your hips when his fingers intrude upon your walls, your slick coating them as they pump in, rubbing along your walls, pressing down on your walls, little whimpers of pleasure sounding out.

“You know,” his voice has taken a slightly darker tone, “I won’t let you come so easily this time.” He looks at you, eyes half lidded and voice heavily laced with lust.

“Don’t-Don’t be such a tease Taishiro,” you say through gritted teeth.

He moves his mouth closer to you, his chuckling sends waves of vibrations deep into your core. The fingertips against your skin, dip into your skin, nails dragging and creating little red marks sink into your plush skin.

He moves his mouth away from your throbbing heat, his chin glistens with arousal, his cock is standing at full length, bouncing as he crawls forward and captures you in a kiss, moaning when your tongue swipes across his bottom lip, tongue brushing against his, your kisses sloppy and lazy compared to his harsh ones that press deep into your skin, chest that ghosts over your own.

He hisses and eyes shut tight when your hand wraps around his member. Fingers that spread wide before closing in on the gaps, your thumb brushing against the slit, pre-cum coats your thumb and you drag the self-made lubricant across his cock, your hand squeezing around him, pumping slowly as he hides his face into your shoulder, mouth wide open, moistening your skin.

It’s known to the world that with his quirk, he is able to expand. His body expands to what he eats- that includes his entire body. A cock that stretches you wide and makes you feel as if you’re being torn apart, filled until the tip bulges in your stomach, lewd sounds coming from you while he fills you with his seed. As his body regains fat, every part will expand proportionally, widen and grow until it’s limit. And as he tries to regain his absorption, he’s currently bigger than average, making your hands seem small against him.

“Taishiro,” you coo, your face flushed and mouth watering, “please,” you whisper and thrust your hips, moaning when his cock head brushes against your clit.

“Say what you want me to do, buttercup,” he bites your neck and soothes it with his tongue when you hiss. “I want to hear ya say it.” He presses kisses under your chin, your free hand claws up on the bedsheets and shakily rising to grip his bicep.

“I-” you clear your throat and take in a deep breath, looking deep into his light golden eyes- “want you to breed me Taishiro. I want you to fill me with your cum.” In your hand, you feel your get covered in his leaking arousal.

He presses a kiss on your lips, your bottom lip turning a bright red and he places his hand over yours, leading his cock to brush against your sopping entrance. There’s a harmonious groan that comes out of both of you as he enters you, his cock pushing through your gooey walls, expanding inside of you, your walls molding around to fit his shape.

“You’re still so tight around me,” he chuckles breathlessly, “ah, I’m gonna fill you up, you know.” His grin is wide and wavers ever so slightly to moan as you thrust your hips upwards, face scrunching in a mixture of pleasure and pain for you.

Your hands go and grasp his face, watching him intently with lips slightly parted and face a sinful shade of red. “Yes, Tai-Taishiro, breed me,” your face scrunches in pleasure and hands fall from his face, he grasps a hand and brings it back to his face, turning his head and pressing a quick kiss the open palm of your hand, “I want a family with you, I want it all with you,” you whine, closing your eyes and arching your back when he hits deep inside of you, walls pulsing around him and coating him in your slick.

“You're going to be so beautiful,” he can feel his eyes get glassy, shining with tears of joy, “I’m going to take such good care of all of you.” His head dips down and he lets out a strangled groan, breathing roughly.

Already so close to reaching his high, he starts to ramble, his lips pulled into a shaky smile, “I’m already so close, heh,” he grins at you sheepishly, “you do this to me. Just by saying you want a family with me,” he buries his face into your neck and lets out a whine, '' I'm so lucky,” he breathes out.

“Taishiro,” you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his soft flesh and pushing him closer to you, “I can feel myself about to cum,” you mewl, the tight build up in your stomach becoming too much with pressure.

“You’re going to be such a good parent. Y-You and me both. You’re going to be so gorgeous, so fucking st-stunning. Fuck,” he lets out a good, choked cry, eyes brimming with tears. “Your breasts are going to be full of milk, swollen and leaking, just like your pretty, little cunt,” his hips shudder against yours, cock beginning to leak with his cum.

Your gummy walls encass his hard member, wet, slick noises come out of you with every pump, muffled whimpers into each other's skin as you hiss with thrust, your arousal leaking out and dripping down your thighs.

You cry against him, face scrunching as your own high approaches. You move a hand down to your hidden pearl, gasping when you begin to massage it, little shock of pleasure adding to the tension building in your lower belly. “I’m gonna be your little housewife,” you whimper, “I’ll be so good,” you swear, there’s a rough drag against your forearm as you pleasure yourself, fingers trying to keep the steady pace you set for yourself.

White stains your lips and the bedsheets underneath, his leg jittering as he continues to pump himself in you, cum has begun to overflow and through glossy eyes, he thinks he can make out your swelling belly filled with his cum. “You’ll be such a good mother,” he leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, a tear slipping out and staining his face, “I get to come home to you and-” a hand comes down to rub your belly, the extra weight causing cum to spill out of you- “we get to be a family.” Ecstasy courses through his body, cock twitching as cum sputters out.

With those words leaving his mouth, the tight coil snaps and your legs press against him tightly before falling to a limp, the hand lost between your sweating body falls to the side. Your mouth is open into a low moan, face pinched into an “O” shape with your head thrown back. Your high leaves you feeling as if you’re on pins and needles, whole body shaking and the slow pumping of Taishiro leaves you quivering. Your hand comes to cover your blushing face, a dazed smile spreading onto your face.

He pulls out of you with a wet squelching hand and a blind hand searches to cover up your leaking entrance, the cum seeping out in between your fingers, letting out a whine and kicking your heels in the bed sheets.

“It should stick.” The bed groans under his weight as he collapses, chest sinking heavily. “Gave it my all,” he smiles, shaky hands pulling your body close to him.

“‘S a lot more than usual,” you mumble against his skin, you feel fingers brush away the hair that sticks to your face, running fingers down your hair. “Were you holding out on me this whole time?” You ask teasingly, lips quirking into a half-hearted smile.

“Promise not to do it again,” he whispers, legs tangling into yours and arms loosening as you shift in his grasp. “I love you,” he breathes, craning his neck back to watch your already droopy eyelids and deep breathing rising from your chest.

“Love you too,” you mumble with eyes closed while a heavy hand searches for the covers.

He mumbles against your skin and with aching legs, he covers the two of you, complaining about laundry tomorrow, you give him a weak laugh and pull him close with beckoning fingers.

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actress4him · 4 years ago

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The Barn 4 - The Pole

(Prompt #1 for Summer of Whump)

Yes, I’m coming in at the last minute with one more Summer of Whump prompt, and yes, it’s prompt #1. Also, if you read more than one of my series I’m sorry that this one is kinda like that one chapter of In Irons...? But I actually thought of this one first, and yes, it was inspired by Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: captivity, restraints, dehumanization, references to beating, mild blood, starvation, dehydration, nausea, emeto, fainting, heat exhaustion/stroke, probably medically inaccurate

Stetson dropped Jacob’s foot, and another puff of red dust went up into the air, joining the cloud that his body had created as it was dragged. It would have been the perfect time for him to leap up and try to run again, but he couldn’t move. His everything ached.

A second later a leather-clad hand gripped his arm and yanked him upright. Jacob’s head swam with the swift change in elevation and his nose throbbed. While he was busy trying to get the world to stop spinning around him, Stetson roughly pulled his arms behind his back and started winding rope around his wrists.

Fantastic. He hadn’t even gotten to enjoy them being free.

Once they were thoroughly wrapped and the rope pulled tight, Stetson stood, taking the tail end with him and jerking Jacob’s arms backwards in the process. He cried out in surprise, and tried to get up. His legs only cooperated enough to scoot him back a few inches, but it was enough to let his arms rest against his back again.

Whatever Stetson was doing, he finished up and came back around to squat in front of his captive, arms propped across his knees and brown eyes studying him just as emotionlessly as ever.

“Maybe a few days of this’ll teach you some manners.”

“Doubt it,” Jacob immediately shot back without thinking. “My mom’s been trying to teach me manners for twenty-six years. I wouldn’t count on a few days making much of a difference.”

Stetson huffed very lightly, something that almost could have been taken for a laugh if Jacob wasn’t positive the guy didn’t know how. “We’ll see.”

Straightening with a quiet popping of joints, he turned and strolled away.

There was no way he was just leaving Jacob alone and able to run off. Craning his neck painfully around, he finally took a look at what was behind him. A post. A wooden post, probably coming up to around his shoulders. And the rope that was tying his wrists was looped through a metal hook in the top and knotted.

Okay, no problem. Jacob was good with his hands, he had nimble fingers from spending all day typing code. Struggling to his feet, he bent over forward so that he could reach and felt his way up the rope until he reached the knot, fingers fumbling around it, trying to get a sense of where it started.

Instead, he found a padlock.

Jacob let out a frustrated scream, the first time he’d actually had a chance to vent his feelings since this whole nightmare began. It felt good enough that he did it again. Then he ran forward, as hard as he could, as if he was somehow going to break the rope or pull the post out of the ground instead of nearly ripping his shoulders out of socket when he abruptly reached the end of his lead.

Tied to a stupid pole like...like a horse, or a dog. He was a human, dang it! Who did these people think they were, treating another person like this? The last…forty-eight? seventy-two? He didn’t even know how many hours anymore...had been completely flabbergasting, just seeing the sheer number of people who thought this was perfectly okay. And now he was stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with some psychopath who thought he was gonna what, train him? To do what, he didn’t even want to know.

Night was falling by then. Jacob was beyond exhausted, and resigned himself to sinking back down to the dirt, resting his back against the pole and getting as comfortable as possible.

The next day dawned with little sleep having been found. The sharp pains of yesterday had given way to stiffness and aches that made it hard to pry himself off the ground. His face was coated with dried blood and who knows what else, making him sticky and disgusted in addition to everything else.

He’d really never liked the outdoors that much. He was much more at home inside, in front of a computer. The outside had far too many things that could get you dirty, like, you know, dirt, for instance, like the kind of dirt he was currently sitting on and covered in. Most of his friends growing up had been your typical rough-and-tumble boys who lived for mud puddles and rolling down grassy hills, but Jacob had never been able to stand the feeling of being dirty.

Sweat was a thing encountered more often outdoors, too, and was just as bad as dirt. He could feel it, collecting underneath his shirt as the sun rose higher in the wide, blue sky. There was nothing in the way of shade in this field. Just dirt, dust, and more dirt, all surrounded by a wooden fence. A corral, probably. Meant for horses, not people.

The heat only grew more intense as the day wore on. There was no sign of Stetson, no indication that he would be bringing food or water or coming to untie him. Jacob hadn’t had anything to eat since this whole thing had begun, and no water since before the auction. His tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of his mouth.

He tried pacing around the pole, circling until the rope was tightly wound one way before turning and going the other way. His brain wasn’t used to boredom. There was always something to think about, always something to do. But now the only thing to think about was how absolutely screwed he was, and that wasn’t helping anything.

He tried pulling some more, too, not running this time, but turning until he could grip the rope in his hands and tugging backwards with all his might. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a lot. He was a computer geek, okay, working out wasn’t high on his list of priorities. The moral of the story was, pulling on the rope did nothing but make his back and arms ache even more.

The heat and the lack of stimulation made the day drag on and on forever. Jacob’s stomach moved from groaning to aching to roiling. If there had been anything in it, he was sure it would have been expelled. His head pounded something awful, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from heat or light or lack of water or having it repeatedly bashed in the day before.

By the time the sun finally started to sink beneath the horizon, his clothes were soaked with sweat, which was not only gross but also turned cold once night fell. He never thought that he’d actually miss the sun once it was gone. But now he was shivering, and the headache hadn’t gone away, and his stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out, and he was pretty sure there was dirt in his mouth, and he was completely, totally, miserable.

Day two was somehow even worse than the first. Jacob tried standing up and stretching his legs, walking around the pole again, but he was so dizzy that he collapsed right back to the ground. Groaning, he dropped his forehead against the pole, grinding particles of dust further into his skin.

His...dry...skin. He didn’t know much about health and science, like, at all, but he was pretty sure not sweating in this heat was not a good thing. He almost felt cold still, like the chill of the night was clinging to his skin.

Hours dragged by. Every time he swallowed, it felt like nails going down his throat. Moving his head in any direction made the world swim around him, the blinding rays of the sun making spots dance across his vision. His stomach kept feeling worse and worse until he finally ended up folding over, retching uselessly again and again until every muscle in his torso was on fire and his head felt like it was exploding.

His only vague thought was, am I gonna die? before he fell face-first into the dirt and passed out.

A blast of cold woke him. He tried to gasp for air, but instead inhaled a mouthful of freezing water, sending him into a coughing fit that racked his sore stomach muscles. But the water just kept coming. It was harsh enough that he couldn’t even sit up against the onslaught, not that he was sure he had the energy to, anyway. The spray scoured every inch of his bare skin, leaving it stinging from both the pressure and the cold.

But it was water. Sweet, beautiful water. As soon as he stopped coughing he tried his best to gulp it in, letting the cold coat his scratchy throat.

He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved when the spray finally stopped. Bringing up weary, unbound hands, he wiped the drips from his eyes, blinking blearily up at Stetson, who dropped the hose and stared him down.

“You didn’t last as long as I had planned.”

“M-maybe…” His voice came out as a croak, and he attempted to clear it. “Maybe you should try some...food ‘nd water. Haven’t...had any of that in a while.”

Stetson continued to stare with crossed arms for another moment before walking over and grabbing onto his ankle again. “You just had your water. Maybe you can have food tomorrow. We’ll see how well you behave.”

Ignoring Jacob’s weak protests and attempts to fight, he dragged him away from the doorway of the barn and into a nearby stall. Iron bars reached from the half wall up to the ceiling, giving it even more of a prison cell feel. The only good news was that he didn’t bother to tie him up this time, just threw him inside and left, shutting the door with a deafening creak and an ominous click.

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years ago

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you’re the one that i want (part 19)

word count: 6k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of abuse)

(part 18) (series masterlist)

“either forget about everything for good this time or be with each other again.”

the words had rung in your head for the rest of the night, plopping down on your bed without even a second look from your parents as you thought over tomorrow's inevitable discussion with seonghwa.

you can convince yourself now that you don't wanna be with him after everything he's put you through, that the summer with him isn't worth it and maybe too much has happened now to revive it.

but truth be told, it doesn't even matter what you think to yourself right now.

because the second you see him, you know everything will crack the way it always does. your composure and will to resist him when you truthfully just miss his presence.

his real presence.

his smile and his deep chuckle and the gentle way he'd hold and tease you. the boy that you know is in there somewhere, have even seen glimpses of in the way he looks at you, which is what makes this so hard.

because then if you forgive him that easily, it’s almost gonna excuse his behavior. make him think that he can continue to hide you away and keep you as someone he loves in the shadows. that this whole time, his behavior was okay and not that big of a deal.

but at the same time, you wanna be with him. you want to hold his hand and go on dates here and just be with him the way you were months ago. fall asleep to his hand stroking your hair and have him laugh at you when your cheeks flame in embarrassment.

you wanna feel him under you and kiss him until your lips are red and sore and your legs are shaking. you wanna feel loved and safe again because you haven’t since you’ve returned home that miserable day in august.

these thoughts keep you up well into the morning, contemplating your life while the dull ache in your wrist and searing bump on your head serve as a reminder of maybe why tomorrow could go so wrong.

cause yes, you love him and wanna forgive him but you also can’t help but see the irony in it all. he sees that you were hurt and now wants to step in meanwhile he’s been the one emotionally killing you since you first saw him again.

what makes this any different? because it’s physical? because it’s not him making you cry? because now he feels bad that you’re in obvious turmoil? your head’s starting to pound now, getting more and more worked up and confused as the night sky vanishes.

you think you sleep for maybe 45 minutes before your alarm starts blaring, rolling over in bed with a tiny groan as your temples ache.

you wince when you push yourself up and feel pain shoot through your wrist, rubbing at the red slightly swollen skin. you’re grateful for the cold fall weather coming in so it’ll be in no way suspicious when you wear a long-sleeved sweater that falls passed your hands.

the walk to school is almost unbearable, your eyes nearly shutting and feet shuffling tiredly as you grow more and more desperate to sit down; you won’t be surprised in the slightest if you pass out right on your homeroom desk.

though that’d be quite challenging you soon discover, given the loud commotion of wooyoung and the other boys behind you.

“i just don’t know why you’re such a fuckin’ weirdo about it. everyone knows you and san used to be best friends, no one is saying that-”

“yeah, we used to be friends and we’re not anymore. so what the fuck’s your point?”

the conversation immediately grabs your attention, perking your head up even with the exhaustion wracking through you because this isn’t gonna end well; you already feel it inside you.

“shiit, why are you getting so defensive,” yeosang asks, throwing his hands up as his friend all but attacks him; he just off handedly mentioned he saw him and san talking at the party and got met with curses and growls.

“because we dropped him. why even mention the little fuck?”

“why talk to him at the party?” yeosang counters, his eyebrow raised at the way wooyoung grows more and more defensive. “and why attack me now when i’m just asking you a question?”

“why bring up the little pussy when i didn’t even talk to him? you know he tries to harass the shit out of me but i-”

“shut up.”

you can’t even stop yourself from blurting the words out, turning around boldly and seeing all of them looking at you in surprise - minus seonghwa, who hadn’t arrived yet. the dark haired boy laughs upon seeing you face him, making a show of looking side to side like he’s trying to figure out who exactly you’re addressing.

“baby girl, i know you’re not talking to me,” wooyoung laughs out, his eyes wide and brow raised.

“baby boy, who else would i be talking to?”

mingi and yeosang snort at your uncharacteristic snark, both of them sitting back and watching in amusement because maybe that’s why seonghwa likes you so much. submissive most of the time but with just enough spunk and sassiness to be impressed by.

“even if you’re not friends with him anymore, you shouldn’t talk badly about him,” you continue, trying your best to stay even and calm. “he doesn’t talk badly about you, even though he very well could.”

wooyoung’s demeanor doesn’t change but you see something cross his eyes, worry or panic at the thought that you might know something more about him and the boy’s relationship. that you’re about to expose it right in front of his friends and blow up his spot.

but apparently his need to look cool outweighs his fears, something that seems to be a common theme with these teenage boys. his body leans in closer, his eyes peeking up at you with amusement.

“he could? and why’s that? because i ignore him?”

your eyes narrow at his sarcasm and you lick at your lips, cocking your head to the side because if he wants to be mean, you’ll be mean back. what do you have to lose at this point?

you’re already bruised and sore and anticipating an emotional breakdown today. why not risk getting hurt or berated, why does it all really matter anymore?

“because you act one way with him alone and then another in front of your friends.”

“ahh and that’s something you’re quite familiar with, right?” wooyoung counters, the shit eating grin and condescending tone you just know was solely meant to hurt you; and even though it stings, you’re able to shake it off and nod your head.

"yeah, that’s right,” you say as you nod your head.

but then you lean in closer and drop your voice, the bags under your eyes catching wooyoung’s attention before your words make him freeze.

“but i also know you’re quite familiar with summer romances, just like me. so what was that like?”

you can feel the air shift at the word romance, wooyoung stiffening and letting out a sharp exhale as he places his hand on the back of your chair.

“you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” wooyoung growls, his eyes narrowed at you.

“oh no?” you hum, the patronizing tone of your voice so unfamiliar you almost don’t recognize yourself. but you’re just so done with today and it barely even stared.

you’re so done with people hurting you and the people you care about because they’re overly concerned about what others think. that they can’t let their guards down and spare their ‘cool’ image for a person they claim to care about.

“no,” wooyoung snaps, his voice low and deep and intimidating. but you’re so completely unfazed, he’s almost unnerved by it.

“the same way i don’t know that you did talk to him at that party? because you really hurt him, wooyoung,” you tell him lowly, the boy feeling his stomach sink as he thinks back to his drunken rant to the blonde that night of the party.

he really has been treating him unfairly, and he knows it too.

san just wants for them to be friends; not even friends, merely acquaintances, so they don’t have to keep hanging out secretly at night or on weekends. he’s told him a hundred times how it makes him feel like they’re doing something wrong and isn’t truly wanted by him, even though they both know that isn’t the case at all.

but when all of his friends decided to stop hanging out with san, he didn’t wanna be dropped too. he didn’t wanna lose them for good because he knew him and san would never stop being friends. he knew both of them would never be able to stay away from each other and they’d be brought back together in a few weeks time.

he needed san but he also needed them. he needed people to ground him and keep him level headed. because san just completely consumes him and turns him into a different person, someone weak and vulnerable and someone he doesn’t wanna be.

that’s why when the blonde had quietly suggested to start hanging out together at lunch with you and him that night, his voice soft and sweet and tugging at wooyoung’s heart, his first reaction was a loud “do you really think we could do that?”

but then when san let out a scoff and shook his head, pushing past him with a dejected, “i guess not,” he pulled the boy back and gave him all the usual excuses he knows aren’t fair and aren’t gonna work much longer.

he held him a bit too tight and a bit too long and a bit too close to be considered friendly, the same way all of their touches have been since the summer that still remains his favorite.

“that’s between me and him so i don’t see why you’re saying this shit right now, y/n. you’re in no position to-”

“san’s my friend and you’re hurting him because you’re the pussy here. so maybe you should grow a pair and stop making the boy you lo-”

and it’s when you’re about to say love that he slams his hand on the table before shooting out of his seat.

seonghwa comes in just as the loud commotion starts, his eyes immediately falling to wooyoung who pulls at your wrist and growls at you to come with him.

but he can only hear your loud strangled yelp and immediately sees red, already growing angry at the way wooyoung was hovering over you. but then once that pained noise left you and his friend’s hands were you, he couldn’t stop the way he rushed over and roughly pushed the boy back on the desk.

seonghwa stood between you and him, everything about his stance protective and alert, with wooyoung flat out on the desk behind him as his eyes burned into him.

the clattering of desks and scuffles of feet immediately cause nosy heads to shoot around and stare, a few gasps leaving their mouths as mingi and yeosang mumble a few curses and jump up.

but it’s like seonghwa doesn’t even notice anything, his eyes only on wooyoung as he tugs the boy up by his shirt; none of his friends have ever seen him look this mad before, jaw clenched and eyes hard as he tightens in his hold on him.

“are you fucking crazy, wooyoung?”

“am i crazy? you’re the one choking me!”

“if i’m choking you, then why the fuck are you still talking?” he growls lowly, tightening his hold on the boy’s collar.

you tug on seonghwa’s shirt but he only continues to look down at wooyoung, the boy fighting against his friend’s hold and deeply mumbled threats as he tells him to get off him.

it’s not until mingi and yeosang push seonghwa back that he feels his shirt being pulled, turning around to see you shaking your head at him.

“it’s fine,” you say softly, eyes brimming with tears because your wrist is absolutely fucking killing you now. seonghwa immediately looks down at your arm and you thank god it’s hidden in your shirt, the boy walking around the desk to kneel beside you.

“let me see.”

“it’s fine, i’m fine,” you say quickly, blinking away the tears as you shake your head and give him a small smile. “he just scared me.”

“y/n, if you lie to me one more fucking time this week, i’m gonna-”

“he didn’t do it.”

his eyes widen at your admission and you don’t realize what you’ve implied until you see the look on his face, a defeated sigh leaving you because this is so not the way you wanted this conversation to go today. you’re exhausted and in pain and in front of far too many people to deal with this right now.

the clacking of heels sends relief through your body, the mess of desks and students staring at the back of the room causing the teacher’s eyebrow to raise.

“good morning to you all too, thank you, i’m doing well,” she says sarcastically, her eyes roaming the back of the room. her gaze lands on wooyoung’s crumpled shirt and seonghwa leaning down in front of you, a quiet hum leaving her mouth before she asks if everything is okay.

“fine, teach, seonghwa was just being his crazy self,” wooyoung says teasingly, a wide smile on his otherwise pissed off face. “did you know him and y/n are friends?”

you press your lips together so you don’t scream, just hearing the smirk on his face as seonghwa lets out a low scoff. you move your body away from him and sit straight ahead, putting your head down and letting out a few calming breaths so you don’t succumb to the many different sensations attempting to render you unconscious.

you knew this day was gonna be a disaster but you certainly didn’t expect it to start this early. you hear seonghwa say you’re gonna talk about it later and can only let out a sigh, knowing there’s gonna be a lot of things you’ll talk about later.

things you didn’t think you were ever gonna tell anyone but will be the first step in healing you. things that will make the storm that’s been brewing between you two peak before months of resisting and suppressed feelings finally catch up to the both of you.

by the middle of your shift at the cafe, you’re almost positive you’re dead on your feet.

san was concerned the second he saw you walk into the lunch room, your face pale and eyes sunken with dark circles that made him actually gasp upon seeing you. and he watched as they only got worse throughout the day, right now genuinely fearing for your health.

“y/n, it’s dead today. just go home, please.”

but you only shake your head as you take your spot on the counter, pushing down the feeling of knowing he’s absolutely right.

because just as school let out, dark stormy clouds rolled in and it hasn’t stopped raining ever since; it seemed to perfectly fit the mood of today, dark and dreary with an underlying feeling of fear.

“i’m fine, san, i don’t wanna go home.”

the blonde let out a sigh at your stubbornness, making his way over to you as he stood between your legs. he took your face in his hands and the gentle feeling alone almost makes your eyes grow heavy, him twisting your head side to side before grimacing at your dark circles.

“babe....you look like shit.”

“thanks,” you breathe out, not even having the energy to roll your eyes or let out a scornful laugh. so san can only let out groan, squeezing your face gently even though he just wants to shake you in frustration before the ding of the oven pulls him away.

your eyes move to clock on the wall to see it’s barely 5:30, a pout on your face as you lean your head back and shut your eyes. they feel like a thousand pounds and the pain in your wrist hasn’t simmered, the immense need to just lay down and sleep forever overwhelming.

but you won’t leave san alone today and you don’t wanna go home. you don’t wanna face that house in this state because you know you’ll get snippy and it’s only gonna end badly for you.

the sound of the door causes your eyes to flutter open, your eyes adjusting to the lights before it’s like a shot of energy zips through you.

the tall figure is in a big black hoodie but you just know it’s covering up dirty blonde hair. the boy makes his way to you and raises his head, the familiar eyes you’ve come to love and hate watching you sit there looking lifeless and pale.

“where’s san?”

“in the back,” you answer quietly. “what do you want? your chocolate vanilla-”

“i want you to come with me. we agreed to talk.”

your eyebrows pull together at his bossy tone, the serious look on his face making it seem very unlikely you’re getting out of this. but that’s just too bad because you refuse to leave early, that’s not fair and you can’t just-

“hey, seonghwa.”

san walks over and it’s like they can instantly see the concern in each other’s eyes, seonghwa looking from you to him before san simply shrugs his shoulders.

“what time’s her shift over?”

“why are you asking him when i’m right here,” you grumble, seonghwa’s lips twitching like he wants to smirk at your sassiness. san bites his lip as he looks at you, very well knowing that you need to get out of here and get some rest.

but is going with seonghwa the right choice? he knows that can easily turn into another emotionally draining fight. last week this wouldn’t have been a problem for him, he would’ve easily told his ex-friend to fuck off and that you were working till close.

but he could tell since yesterday that something was very off.

seonghwa’s concerned gaze and strange comments about your injuries, the way you looked so small and defenseless when he talked to you outside. this was different than seonghwa feeling possessive and wanting to claim you as his. there was a different kind of look in his eye - protective and concerned and almost fearful.

he lets out a sigh, giving the taller boy a look that screams ‘don’t fuck this up’ before he opens his mouth to say “right now.”

your neck snaps over to the blonde and you narrow your eyes at him as you shake your head. “no it’s not. i work till close today, what the hell san.”

“you look awful, y/n, please,” he begs softly, making his way over to you with a sad smile on his face. “everything’s under control here and if you pass out and crack your head open on the floor i just mopped, i’m gonna be really annoyed.”

seonghwa’s eyes narrow while you let out the closest thing you can to a laugh, rolling your eyes as you jump down from the counter. “i’m fine, i’m not gonna pass out,” you say, attempting to take the desserts from his hand. “so i’m gonna stay until closing and-”

the second you curl your wrist to bring the tray into you, you hiss in pain through your teeth and nearly drop the fresh cookies if san hadn’t caught them immediately. his eyes stare down at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before, his head shaking as he places the tray on the counter behind him.

he unties the apron around your neck while looking down at your hand in confusion. “did something happen to your wrist?”

you press your lips together so you don’t blurt something out again, looking over at seonghwa who’s jaw is tight and eyes are burning; he’s trying to be patient but fuck are you making it impossible right now. especially when you’re so obviously in pain and upset and trying to ignore everything the way you’ve both been for far too long.

“y/n, c’mon,” he breaths lowly, everything about his tone warning and dark.

“no,” you snap, looking over to see him watching you carefully. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head and shrugs. you feel your heart drop to your stomach when he, like he absolutely belongs there, walks behind the counter and pulls the hand attached to your uninjured wrist.

“seonghwa, if you manhandle me, i’m gonna-”

“what? what are you gonna do?” he growls lowly in your ear, tightening his hold on your hand. “i’ve had enough of this shit, y/n.” he’s had enough of him being a coward and you being sad, he’s had enough of the back and forth and hearing you cry and fight with him.

he’s had enough of knowing that you’re being hurt by him and other people in your life and he’s not about to watch it happen any longer. so with that, he drags you outside to his car and helps you up into the familiar passenger seat.

“you are such an asshole,” you snap, all the anger and rage and sadness in your body hitting you like a brick. “all because you’ve finally had enough, you think you can drag me out of work and-”

“baby, please,” he begs lowly, his head dipped into the car so he’s only inches away from your face and not getting pelted with rain. “i know something’s wrong and it’s killing me. it’s been fucking killing me and i’m trying here, okay? i just...i don’t know what to do.”

you’re thrown off by the desperation in his deep tone, his eyes begging and pleading with you to listen to him. to please, just one last time, listen to him and remember that he promised he was gonna be here for you. that he promised if you ever needed him, you had him.

“it doesn’t matter,” you whine, the chaos of emotions inside you giving you whiplash. you shake your head as tears prick your eyes, tears of sadness and frustration and anger and pain. “it doesn’t even matter so just stop. you don’t have to do anything because it doesn’t matter.”

but because that could’t be further from the truth, he shakes his head and slams the door before making his way to the drivers seat.

san can only watch from the window as the car pulls away, his head in his hands as he lets out a sigh. he hopes that was the right decision, he hopes he didn’t just make things a hundred times worse for you.

but then it appears, twenty minutes later, when the door of the cafe opens, your absence might be making things worse for him. because his eyes shoot up and he meets the gaze of the person he least wanted to see today, especially given the last time they saw each other.

“what are you doing here, wooyoung?”

“what am i doing here?” you whisper, safely assuming he just kidnapped you and brought you straight to his house.

you pull up to the unfamiliar bungalow as you sit inside seonghwa’s car, the memories from the first time you were in here already breaking you down.

you were reminded of them the second he slammed the door, the smell and the dark leather and the little air freshener hanging from the mirror; the only thing different about it was that the doors were on now.

“this is cool,” you tell him with a smile. he smirks watching your arm whip through the air, his deep voice mumbling “careful,” when a car in the other lane speeds past.

“i didn’t know you drove, i only ever saw you with your surfboard,” you tease with a smile, giggling when he rolls his eyes and looks at you.

“that’s interesting since someone’s taken it over,” he says, chuckling when you reach out and smack his arm lightly.

“you’re the one who said i shouldn’t get one,” you whined, the pout on your face catching his eye as he sends a soft smile your way.

seonghwa licks over his lips, turning off the car before facing you.

you hadn’t said a word to him during the ten minute drive, resting your head back on the seat as you played with your fingers. he just wanted to reach over and take your hand in his, soothingly run his thumb over you to ease your obvious anxiety.

“i just wanna talk, baby.”

“and we can’t do it another day?” you ask, wanting so desperately to fight him but feeling yourself crack. you’ve been dealing with this for too long, keeping this secret and pain inside for too long and with the way he’s looking at you, you won’t be able to hold it off any longer.

“no,” he says quietly, firmly, with a sense of finality as he turns off the car and gets out the drivers side. you sigh as you watch him make his way to you, opening the door and helping you down before guiding you into his house.

no one appears to be home and it’s sparsely decorated, the white walls bare as you walk past the living area and up the stairs in defeat. seonghwa’s room is shockingly similar to the room at his mom’s, neat and orderly with a white comforter you almost can’t believe is in a teenage boy’s room.

you watch from the doorway as he plops down on his bed, his head in his hands as he runs it through his hair; the brighter tones of blonde have faded a bit from lack of the summer sun but he’s still so handsome.

he still makes your heart flutter and stomach flip after all of this, remembering how in the beginning, you could barely look at him without blushing.

but things aren’t like that anymore.

things haven’t been carefree and fun and sweet for a while, the innocence that came with the summer morphing into something serious and heart wrenching. something that put you guys to the test to see if everything that had had happened was real and you failed.

you love him and he loves you but you both still managed to fail.

the thought brings tears to your heavy eyes, biting down on your lip as you try to blink them away. he looks up and sees you standing there, eyes full of tears and a broken expression that causes him to reach his arm out to you.

“come here.”

“no,” you say, shaking your head as your lower lip starts to wobble.

you can’t do this. how are you supposed to do this? finally tell someone what’s been happening to you for years, nevertheless someone who’s also been hurting you; granted in a different way but he still hurt you.

he still abandoned you when you needed him, when he said he was gonna be there for you and help you through whatever you needed; and now, months later, you’re supposed to trust him with this?

“baby, i need to know.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as your stomach starts to knot, shaking your head again as you meet his gaze. but the softness and concern in them proves to be too much, biting your lip as you finally move from the doorway.

you walk past his bed and to the corner where a desk is, silently walking around and taking in his room. you’re not surprised by the lack of photos or decor, a computer resting on the desk with a lamp beside it.

and it’s like everything seems to have a place here. the computer, the mouse, the lamp, the small cup of pencils on the side, the-

“so you did get something,” is all he says, looking up to see a shy look on your pink face. you choke out a laugh as you nod your head, “sneaky, right?”

a chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head, looking over the turtle’s smiling face and he hates how overpriced this probably was.

but he can’t bring himself to say anything negative, not with how you look like a mix of being proud but also on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “wasn’t necessary,” he mumbles, shaking his head but keeping the turtle tight in his hold anyway.

“it was, i-i wanted to,” you tell him, “especially since you were nice enough to-”

“y/n! who’s your handsome friend! does he wanna stay for dinner?”

and it seems like the stupidest thing to make the tears finally break but it does just the trick. because one second you’re standing up and looking at his desk and then the next, your face is in your hands and you’re sobbing over a $20 figurine of a surfing turtle.

it’s just placed right there on his desk but it’s the only sign of decor in this room that doesn’t have a purpose. like it’s the only thing he possessed that had meaning and was a gift from someone, the only thing that meant enough for him to showcase and keep as a memory.

your heart feels like it’s breaking and healing at the same time over this stupid fucking turtle that you don’t even hear him get up until you feel his arms around your waist, his head leaned down to press a kiss against your shoulder and hum lowly against your skin.

“i didn’t tell you at the time but i thought you were so fucking cute,” you hear him say, a humorless laugh leaving him as he listens to you cry and remembers that night so well. “i was pissed you wasted your money on it but you were so god damn nervous to give me a little turtle that i couldn’t say anything.”

you lick at your lips as look at your floor as you shake your head, your exhausted body wracking with quiet cries and sobs before he can’t take it anymore. before he turns you around and brings you into his chest, wraps his arms around you tightly and shushes you against your head.

you try to push him away at first but he only tightens his hold, his voice low and shaky as he begs you to stop crying. kisses the side of her head and apologies for how many times you’ve cried within these past few months, how many times he’s made you cry.

“and i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you the way i promised,” he says quietly, your face pressed into his chest as you feel your tears soak his shirt. “but i will now, baby. the whole fucking time. you just need to tell me what happened.”

“what’s so different now?” you ask weakly, pulling back from him as you wipe at your teary, wet face. “what the fuck is so different now that this time you’re telling the truth?”

his adams apple bobs before he lets out an exhale, his hands softly cupping your face to wipe at your tears. “because someone’s hurting you, y/n. someone’s been hurting you this whole time and no one’s doing anything about it.”

“you’ve been hurting me too,” you remind him, tears leaking from your eyes as you look him dead in the face. ”you were supposed to help me. you-you said were gonna.”

and for the first time since you’ve met him, you watch as his eyes well up with tears.

“i know,” he says, “i’ve been fucking stupid and i’m sorry. but i love you, baby, i do. i just...it killed me leaving you. i drove away from your aunt’s house and cried for the first time since i was kid. that scared the fucking shit out of me, y/n, and then i saw you again and i couldn’t....”

he shakes his head because nothing is gonna make what he did sound okay.

he was stupid and selfish and acted like an idiotic teenage boy who didn’t wanna be called whipped or a pussy. he thought he was guarding himself from others while also sparing you both: you from himself and him from being vulnerable.

but every shred of vulnerability and emotion came to him the second he told he loved you, something that through all of this was always the truth.

“nothing i say is gonna make it okay and i know that. but please. let me help you now,” he says softly, his hand wiping at the tear on your cheek before moving to the bump on your head.

you wince when he touches the sore skin before his other hand gently moves to your arm, lifting up your sweater and feeling rage rip through his chest when he sees it’s swollen and bruised.

and seeing that is what causes him to completely lose it now, pulling you into him again before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

you only feel a few stray tears of his hit your neck but it doesn’t stop you from crying too. hearing his quiet pleas to tell him what happened, to please tell him and that no one’s ever gonna hurt you again.

not him or anyone else.

he brings you to sit down on the bed, your tear-stained face mirroring his and you’d wanna laugh at this situation if it wasn’t so heavy. if both your hearts weren’t so heavy and you didn’t feel like you were about to pass out.

but seonghwa held your hand the whole time, just sat there and breathed with you until you finally uttered “my parents.” and it’s like just those two simple words set off something inside you, tears blurring your vision as you tell him about the morning this happened and many other mornings and nights similar.

about your dad’s drinking and mom’s pills and the way they’ll gang up on you. how a lot of the times it’s usually verbally but when they do get physical, it always leaves marks. the words make seonghwa growl or tense every time you mention it, his eyes watching you talk so carefully it would intimidate you if it was anyone else.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, trying so hard to keep the anger out of his voice as he remembers that day in the summer so well. when he saw your parents and saw the change in you and felt something heavy settle into his chest. “i asked you, baby, i asked if you were safe at home and-”

he can’t even finish the sentence because he doesn’t wanna make it sound like he’s blaming you but fuck. he never would’ve let you leave your aunt’s house if you told him you weren’t. he’s even blaming himself right now because he did think there was the slightest chance you were unsafe there and still let you go.

“i was scared,” you tell him honestly, voice shaky and quiet because if you’d never met him, you probably wouldn’t have told anyone what was happening. would’ve lived out the next two years before never seeing them again and commending yourself for getting through it alone.

“i-i didn’t wanna bother anyone by telling them that and have them pity me. my aunt would probably let me stay with her and i didn’t... i don’t wanna burden her like that.”

his arm tightens around you as he brings you closer to him, your head on his chest as you finally allow yourself to completely melt into him. it’s still such a familiar feeling, the way your body calms against his and you inhale his scent.

“you aren’t a burden to anyone, she would want to help you, baby,” he hums against your head. he can’t help but the think back to his conversation with her the night before you left, when he straight up asked her about this very scenario.

it makes his stomach sink even more now, the whole situation shitty and eerie and making him feel incredibly guilty.

“you’re not going back there.”

and usually those words would have you jump up with wide eyes, ask where you’re supposed to go and how you’re gonna deal with these consequences. but at this very moment, your eyes are heavy and he’s so warm and close and you just wanna succumb to your exhaustion.

because it also feels as if some weight was lifted.

not completely, because you still know there’s a lot to deal with, but at least you said the words. at least someone finally knows you aren’t just a clumsy idiot who walks into cabinets and walls.

you can only hum into his chest as you bury your face further, your eyes heavy before they shut completely. he looks down and smiles sadly when he moves a piece of your hair, his thumb reaching out to swipe the dark circle under your eye.

“i love you and i’m sorry,” he says lowly, your eyes fluttering open to see him looking down at you. you smile at the softness in his once teary eyes, resting your arm around his waist before placing your head back on his chest.

“i’m gonna help you, okay? i won’t stop until you’re safe.” help you the way he knows he should’ve been this whole time, made you feel safe and loved the way he said he would this whole time.

“safe now,” you mumble tiredly, your eyes growing more and more heavy before you finally succumb to your exhaustion.

he watches you sleep for the next few hours, unable to look away in fear that you’re gonna disappear. he’s been wracking his brain about what to do the whole time, an occasional whine or twitch from you causing him to hum lowly and stroke your hair.

he managed to maneuver the both of you under the blanket, your body curled into his before you rolled over in your sleep and rested your head on his pillow.

he stretches his numb arms out and sighs heavily, grateful for the text from his dad that he’d be working late tonight; he knows the man wouldn’t care about you staying over but he still wants this time just with you, even if you’re sleeping.

your phone vibrating on his desk causes him to walk over quietly, seeing three messages from san and a missed call from your dad. it takes everything in him not to call back and curse the man out, tension all over his body as he thinks about how badly he wants to beat the shit out of him.

but knowing that wouldn’t fix anything, at least for tonight, he closes out of your dad’s contact and looks for your aunts, pressing a kiss to your head before sneaking out of his room; the phone only rings four times before he hears the familiar chipper voice.

“y/n, my girl! how are you?”

“it’s seonghwa,” he says and it’s like immediately, something in her knows something’s wrong. whether it be her intuition that failed you or the tone of the boy’s voice, she listens with tears in her eyes as seonghwa tells her they have to get you away from your parents.

(part 20)

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21 ; @lokicaramel ; @hwaxbum ; @sakura-uji ; @songsoomin ; @toffee-hwa ; @deobitiful ; @hyunjeansuniverse ; @clown-teez ; @i-know-you-know-lee-know ; @tiny-whatsername ; @fairieofeternity ; @yixing-jaehyun ; @sleepyseonghwa ; @revehosh ; @atletino ;

#seonghwa #seonghwa angst #ateez #ateez angst #seonghwa scenarios #ateez scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #seonghwa series #ateez series

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crybabyjam · 4 years ago

Text

objective truth

my first bnha fic (reposted on my new tumblr weeee)

super long post ahead!

ship: bakudeku

rating: t

summary: izuku gets hit with a truth quirk.

available on ao3 here

---

Kacchan is pretty.

It's something Izuku thinks often. About how Kacchan looks, or if he's in the mood for Izuku to be around, or how he feels about their friendship. But, it was never something he'd ever say out loud— not unless he wanted to survive to become the Number One Hero.

Everyone had begun filing out of the dorms for homeroom, and Izuku had caught just a glimpse of platinum hair as Kacchan turned down the sidewalk.

Izuku mumbles under his breath, "Kacchan is beautiful today."

"Hm? Did you say something, Deku?"

Izuku startles as Uraraka taps him on the shoulder, a bright smile on her face as Iida continues to wave his hands around just one step ahead of them both.

"Ah, nothing! I was just thinking about, uh, you know! Ahaha…" Izuku laughs it off quickly, face bright red.

(read more)

---

Fire and blood. It's something Katsuki had gotten all too familiar with at UA. Even before UA.

Sweat stings its way through a cut on his cheek as he stands, and he angrily smears it further into the wound with the back of his hand. His gauntlet was gone, torn off by the quirk of the villain in front of them.

Their quirk was something like glass shattering. Whatever they touched, the item became brittle and broke upon any impact.

Katsuki knew, though, that it only worked on inanimate objects. Not that he had known when Deku got grabbed, right on his dumbass face, by the shitty villain. When he got flung down onto the train tracks they were battling on, Katsuki was pretty sure he popped all the blood vessels in his brain from the stress.

But he hadn't shattered on impact— rather bounced like a little ball until he rolled himself onto his front.

"Fucking idiot— DEKU. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER."

Katsuki shoots himself over to Deku's curled form, wrist aching without the stabilization from his gear. "Get the fuck up."

Deku's already on his knees, though, watching the villain as he scrubs at where the fingers had clutched him. "I'm okay. Let's finish this quickly."

Behind them laid half a shattered train. The people inside were trapped— nowhere to go unless they jumped off the bridge.

"Don't tell me what to do," Katsuki growls, yanking Deku up the rest of the way.

Despite the fact that the villain couldn't shatter them directly, they had full control over the things they could. The little shards of metal shot towards them in waves, and Deku shot a blast of air to blow most of it to the side.

"I'll keep him distracted, Kacchan." Deku takes a step back, forming a strong, protective barrier in front of the civilians behind them. "If you get him from the back, or to turn around away from the train, I can— "

Katsuki socks him on the shoulder, just in time for them to dodge another shot of projectiles. "What the fuck did I just say, fucking asshole!"

Still, Katsuki uses the plumes of smoke between them and the villain to blast his way underneath the bridge.

Something explodes above him— not fire but more glass, and it cuts across his arms as he flies high above the villain.

Deku rushes forward, keeping the villain's eyes on him with a swift kick to the chest and a blast of air to make them stumble backwards.

Before the villain goes down, those glass pieces reunite in a group behind Deku's back. Katsuki isn't fast enough to stop it— but is in the perfect position to aim a full blast right in the villain's back.

So he does.

-----

Izuku has multiple lacerations across his back from the glass and mild burns on his arms from Kacchan. There were only two injured civilians and Kacchan got off with a broken wrist and a cut on his face that would heal without scarring.

"Good job, Midoriya!" Iida congratulates him, on a personal mission to bring notes for the classes Izuku had missed.

Although the burns were mild, the cuts needed to be watched closely by Recovery Girl before she could repair them. He didn't want to have glass stuck beneath fully healed skin, after all.

Laying on his stomach, Izuku can only nod helplessly and grin. "Thanks, Iida. I'll study right away."

"Maybe next time you can defeat a villain without getting injured, dumbass."

Kacchan appears behind Iida, startling the latter something fierce, but Izuku only grins wider.

"You got hurt, too, Kacchan."

"Shut the fuck up." A water bottle, metal and shiny, is shoved against his cheek and Izuku hisses at the sudden chill. As he juggles it and the notebook Iida had brought, Kacchan watches him critically. Then, once Izuku reaches to place the bottle on his side table, Kacchan snatches the book from his bed.

"Bakugo—!" Iida starts, but Kacchan has exploded it before he'd finished the first syllable. "My notes!"

Izuku chokes on air as Kacchan stabs a finger in the back of his neck, still warm from his Quirk. "You're getting outta here at lunch, yeah? You'd better be at my room once I'm back from classes, shithole."

Then, he shoves past Iida and skirts around Recovery Girl before he leaves just as quickly as he appeared.

Izuku half-heartedly comforts Iida as he mourns the loss of his carefully crafted notes, but he can't stop the way his mouth curls at the corners. Reading between the lines, it was obvious that Kacchan wanted them to study together.

When Iida has gone, speedwalking (not running!) so that he isn't late for the next class, Izuku buries his head in his pillow and lets his smile grow wider.

'ill be there!! ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ' He texts to Kacchan.

'Fucking better, nerd.' He gets in response.

-----

All Might visits him, just before lunch.

Recovery Girl had just finished healing him, though his back only partially so because of his low energy, and he and All Might almost bumped into each other when he opened the door to leave.

Which is how they found themselves walking along the forest line, shielding their eyes from the sun.

"And you're sure you're feeling alright, Young Midoriya?"

"Feeling great! I could probably use 100% right now!" As if to prove it, Izuku begins to bounce from one foot to the other.

When All Might begins to stutter and wave his hands frantically to stop him, Izuku grins wide. "Just kidding."

The two find a bench near the middle of the forest, overlooking the rest of the city. A pond gently flows in front of them, and a few ducks peck at his red shoes before they move on to swim away.

Izuku's back still burns, if he's being honest. Not as much as it did, but there was a faint ache where each piece of glass had dug in and dragged down.

"If it still hurts in the morning," she had began, glancing down at her notes. "Come back and I should be able to heal you fully."

Now, All Might places a gentle hand across the nape of his neck, as if sensing the pain lingering there. It grows silent between them until All Might pulls away to show off his lunchbag.

"Hungry, Young Midoriya?"

Their lunch consisted of a sandwich and juice boxes— and candies from Present Mic. Each bite was quickly scarfed down as the ducks wandered between their legs, pecking at the crumbs. Izuku feels bad not sharing any fuller bites with them— but he also clearly remembers the time Aizawa-sensei had scolded him about their diets so…

He shoos them away with the back of his hand and a promise, to himself, to bring lettuce or peas next time.

When they finish, All Might pats around his pockets before producing a handful of wrapped treats, each one a pale pink or bright red. The candies nearly overflow All Might's palms and Izuku is quick to catch them before the ducks get there first.

"I never really liked strawberry flavored things," All Might confesses, as if it were the greatest sin. "But Hizashi— ah… Present Mic, I mean. He loves to share them."

Izuku pockets two of the little lollipops and promises not to tell anyone the secret.

-----

They part ways well after lunch had concluded for the rest of the UA students.

"I think… I'm gonna go for a run in town," Izuku says as they start circling back through the forest. "I probably should buy Iida a thank-you gift for his notes." Not that he'd be able to use them but…

All Might sends him a thumbs-up. "Be careful, young man. You'll send me to an early heart attack if you get attacked again so soon."

"I'll try my best!" Izuku says, and runs off with a teasing laugh before he can specify what, exactly, he'd be trying his best to do (or not do).

Although the sun had just reached its peak in the sky, the air was a bit cold as Izuku jogged down the mountain. It reminded him of the water bottle Kacchan had given him, and Izuku tried to remind himself to bring it to their study session, to return.

The town is quiet as he jogs through, pausing at an intersection to wipe sweat from his brow. Makes sense, being early afternoon on a weekday.

He and Kacchan had gotten attacked the day prior (on their way back to UA from what had basically been a mini-field trip), but already the rhythm of their town had gone back to relaxed.

Izuku waves hello to some resting construction workers, watching as they go about fixing the cracks in the bridge of the train.

On his way back to UA, he begins to eat one of the lollipops All Might had given him. It's super sweet, covered in a fine powder from where it had been smushed in his pocket. Completely and artificially strawberry, but it satisfied a craving somewhere in his stomach anyway.

As he crunches down on the hardened sugar, he doesn't hear the snap of branches as footsteps dart behind him. Not until pain explodes on his already aching back.

He goes down, silent. Minutes later, if one were to pass, all that would be left of him was the cute, pink wrapper of his candy.

-----

Izuku wakes up to a broken wrist, a black eye, and a cloth gag being unwrapped from around his head.

Voices circle around his head, and a hand keeps his shoulder pressed to the ground— not painfully but firm.

All Might's sad smile comes into view as Izuku groans and tries to roll over onto his stomach. The hands touching him move away and are replaced by All Might helping him sit up.

"Young Midoriya," He begins, but Izuku misses the rest when police sirens go off behind him, sending his head into a spiral of pain and bright lights.

He's pretty sure he faints because when he wakes up next, his wrist is healed and blood rests on his tongue, replacing the taste of old cotton.

-----

He isn't allowed to leave the infirmary until two days later. Not even allowed visitors the entire time. Not that he'd been awake if there were any visitors.

When he did wake up, though, it'd been maddeningly silent. Recovery Girl doesn't even lecture him for being hurt, but All Might does come to assure him that he hadn't died of a heart attack as he'd predicted.

"From now on, you'll have to be accompanied by an escort, young man."

Izuku readily agreed with a soft, hoarse, "Please."

-----

It isn't until the next day that he remembers the study session he'd missed with Kacchan.

-----

"You were hit with a quirk," Aizawa-sensei tells him. "We don't have all the details yet, but... by making a person ingest a piece of themself, the villain makes it so that their victim can't control what they say."

When Izuku's brows quirk and he turns green around the edges, Aizawa pats him on the head. "I'll spare you the details, but you aren't a cannibal, if that's what you're worried about."

Izuku scribbles down on the whiteboard placed in his lap and holds it up to be read.

'Is that why I'm wearing a gag?' He asks. A knotted cloth rests just behind his teeth, heavily soaked with his saliva. Gross.

Aizawa nods. "Mm, we aren't sure how long it'll take to get out of your system. Even while you were unconscious, the quirk made you speak. For the sake of your own secrets— and my own sanity—" and boy does Aizawa put stress on the word, "— we found it better to muffle it rather than find a way to stop it."

Izuku hums, but he does feel words forming on his lips around the gag even as he tries to stop it.

"If you're able to stop yourself by tomorrow morning, we'll see about classes. For now, Recovery Girl suggests letting you sleep in your own room for the night."

Aizawa-sensei is surprisingly gentle when Izuku flinches away from his hands as they reach to untie the gag.

His teacher moves to instead pat him on the head, moving sweaty hair from his eyes. "Just change it out when you get to your room," Aizawa concedes.

-----

When he stumbles back to the dorms, half dragged by the arm across Aizawa-sensei's shoulder, his classmates understandably freak.

"Is he…"

"Deku, we missed you!"

"What's with the…" Kaminari motions to the almost soaked through gag. Even without Aizawa-sensei talking directly to him, Izuku spoke everything that came to mind on the short walk from UA to the dorms.

"He's still recovering," is all Aizawa-sensei says. "Do not take it off of him. Even if he's sleeping."

At the serious tone, the class quickly parts to let them head towards Izuku's room.

"If he's still sick, why not leave him to rot in the damn granny's office?" Kacchan grumbles from the kitchen as they pass, locking eyes with him.

Izuku grins as best he can around the gag. Aizawa only grunts, but Izuku is pretty sure Kacchan gets the gist of the motion by the way he rolls his eyes and angrily downs an overfilled glass of water.

It isn't until he's been tucked in bed and given a plethora of cloths to use as a gag for the next few days that he notices the time: thirty minutes past midnight.

He sends a quick text off to Kacchan.

'sorry for worrying u! Get some rest (－ω－) zzZ'

Kacchan responds almost immediately with a quick, 'Fuck off.'

Just before Izuku turns over to place his phone back on the charger, he gets another text which reads a simple, 'You too.'

-----

Izuku is, in fact, allowed to go to classes the next day.

Aizawa-sensei walks him to Recovery Girl early in the morning.

"Given that you've missed half the week, we decided it was best to let you come back instead of make-up classes."

Izuku nods, words coming forward before he can stop them. "I'd rather not do those. They're harder than actual classes."

Aizawa rolls his eyes, but it's half-hearted at best. "When I came to wake you, you weren't mumbling in your sleep. As long as you bring your gag, you should be fine."

Then, half under his breath, "Maybe I should gag the rest of the class. Finally get some peace and quiet."

Izuku laughs, tugging an embroidered cloth out of his pocket. It was designed with a stitched thumbs up on one side and a messy side profile of Golden Age All Might, and Izuku has a feeling a certain mentor of his is the one who made it.

He and Aizawa-sensei make it to class much earlier than the rest of the class— almost 45 minutes earlier.

"What about the person who used their quirk on me?" Izuku had asked on the way to UA.

His teacher stayed troublingly silent for a long while, after that. Izuku's nervous, constant stream of thought filled the spaces in between them.

"It's being handled," Aizawa had said, finally. "The campus is under lockdown, and no one is allowed off-site."

And Izuku had left it at that.

-----

His back still hurts. He'd forgotten to bring it up with Recovery Girl, which is surprising to him considering the nature of the quirk that hit him. With as many times as he'd interrupted Aizawa-sensei with segways that had nothing to do with their conversation both walking to and from the infirmary, he's sure his teacher would be surprised to hear it, too.

He'd go before lunch break, then.

Izuku sighs softly, muttering to himself as he goes over the texts Uraraka had sent him the few days he'd been absent. Just major notes about what they'd gone over in classes she knew he had trouble with. She'd mentioned something about Iida wanting to give him another notebook, but (to none of their surprise) decided to hold off giving it to him until Kacchan wasn't around.

The gag sits soundly in his lap as he half-studies, half looks out the window.

As his class begins to shuffle in, keeping their distance but still sending happy greetings his way, he fingers the frayed edges of it.

When his friends come in, Uraraka two steps behind Iida, Izuku shouts out a sharp, excited, "Hey!"

Everyone startles at the sudden, loud sound of his voice, and he sheepishly waves them over. Aizawa-sensei narrows his eyes at him as he leaves to get notes before the beginning of homeroom, and Izuku sends him a quick, apologetic shrug.

"Dekuuu, we missed you!" Uraraka throws a quick hug across his shoulders. "We weren't even allowed to visit!"

"Ahaha, well— " Izuku begins, quickly parsing through his thoughts. "I guess I just had to be observed for a while longer."

"Oh?"

"Mm. The quirk I got hit with, uh…" Izuku flinches. Maybe he shouldn't have said that part? Ah, well. "Well, Recovery Girl still had to monitor me— plus I was still injured from the train incident— and maybe it could've been contagious, so— !"

"Ah, that makes sense. It would be inefficient to have half the class out of commission, after all." Iida nods to himself.

"Mm," Izuku smiles, kicking his legs out to turn towards the two of them. So far, it seemed the quirk was fading faster and faster with time. Even as the back of his mind panicked to talk about the classes he missed, he was able to ignore it in favor of small talk before class started. It helped when his friends smiled at him, especially helped when the worried squint of their eyes faded to something more relaxed.

Maybe he wouldn't even have to use the gag. Seeing as it was hand-stitched by All Might himself, it already earned a place on the highest shelf of his hero collection.

But then, Kacchan comes in.

Well, Ashido and Kaminari do, first. She has her arm around his neck and seems to be trying to hop on his back so he can carry her to his desk and he, rightly, is struggling.

Kirishima comes in third, knocking shoulders with Sero as they play rock-paper-scissors. Kirishima loses when he plays rock, and lets out a loud yelp when Sero pinches his side as part of the punishment.

Kacchan is right behind them, laughing meanly as Kirishima rubs his gut. His bag has slipped from his shoulder to his forearm, caught there with his hand in his pocket. Although it was morning and the air outside was chilly, he had a faint line of sweat dripping from his brow.

Kacchan had always been quick to sweating— probably because of his Quirk. His palms had always been sweaty when they were younger, always warm, too. He wonders if they still are after all these years— rough and soft at the same time.

Izuku melts as Kacchan swipes at his hairline with a handkerchief. When he moves to yell at Kirishima and Sero for trying to pounce on him to join their game, his eyes sparkle and shine happily even if his tone doesn't match.

As he closes the door behind them all, sunlight filters through the window and illuminates the shine of his teeth and the glimpse of bare midriff as Sero dodges between Kacchan's legs to crawls to his seat before Kacchan can retaliate.

Iida and Uraraka have turned to him, waiting for a response to the conversation he hadn't been paying attention to.

Instead of the apology he was expecting to spew, he instead says,

"Kacchan is beautiful, today."

His friends freeze, and even Todoroki glances up from his half-asleep staring contest with a bird in a nearby tree.

"Eh?"

"I mean— what I meant to say, Kacchan is always beautiful, and— " The words spill out easily even when his horrified fingers cling to his lips and desperately try to force them closed. It was as if the carefully crafted dam that had been being repaired all morning had gotten slammed through and demolished like glass under a hammer.

His muffled voice— "Kacchan is…. Kacchan is…" slip out of his grasp, literally slip between his fingers, and all eyes turn to the startled blond boy still standing at the classroom door.

By the way his eyebrows shoot down, a scowl on his lips replacing the carefree smirk he had just moments prior, Kacchan is livid.

---

chapter 2 and the rest of the fic available here

#bkdk #bnha #bakudeku #long post #boku no hero academia #fanfic #writing tag

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yzkhr · 4 years ago

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Since today's my birthday, what better way to celebrate than torture myself and create this fic?

He was dying.

Being constantly followed by death, it wasn't rare for Japan's famous detective Kudo Shinichi to witness a pool of blood. However, it was a different matter if it was his.

The sticky red liquid was pouring out of his stomach continuously, with no sign of stopping. It dripped and dripped, making a trail of blood as he goes along the dark empty street in the middle of the night in Tokyo, settling in an alleyway.

Having no strength left to stand, he leaned on an old wall, not caring if it's dirty, knowing that it will be covered with his blood anyways.

Shinichi sighed, remembering what exactly happened that got him in such a painful situation.

When he chased after the serial killer, he didn't expect the man to still have one last trick under their sleeve—being a knife literally under the killer's sleeve— as Shinichi tried to tackle him. Unfortunately, the man managed to escape, leading to more chasing that the detective can't handle any longer with his condition.

He tried to call the police for back up but none of them are picking up. Detective Takagi and Sato are both in their honeymoon, while the rest are currently busy with a bombing case. He mentally smacked himself for being too confident, telling the Inspector that he can take on the serial killer on his own.

Seeing as how it turned out, he clearly couldn't.

He tightened the black blazer around his bleeding stomach even more, trying to at least slow down the rapid loss of blood but to no avail. Even if by some miracle someone were to find his battered body, it would already be too late.

He felt numb but at the same time in pain. He was losing so much blood that he knew he's about to pass out any second now. But he didn't want to yet. He still had to somehow give the police clues about the suspect. That was the least he could do.

He dug deep into his pocket, finding his phone that cracked when he tripped once from the pursuit. Luckily, it was still working. He opened his notes and typed every information about the murderer. Despite his trembling fingers and more blood loss happening, his perseverance was more than enough to do the job.

After he finished writing one last sentence, he pressed the home button and immediately regretted doing so afterwards. Because of it, the photo of him and Ran on their graduation day holding hands as his wallpaper appeared before him. His heart clenched almost in an instant, seeing the pure and blissful face of his girlfriend coupled with his embarrassed one.

And as if the world wasn't fucking with him enough, he heard a melodious ringtone from his phone that's only meant for her. She's calling him.

"Ran..." he muttered under his breath, seeing her name registered below the cracked screen. Shinichi didn't know what to do. For some reason, she always seemed to sense when he's in some kind of danger. His thoughts came back at the time when he first shrunk as Conan, her name flashing on his phone, signalling her call.

That time, he chose not to answer, knowing that he'll be humiliated proving to her that she was right about him getting himself into trouble with all his probing. Should he do what he did back then?

All of a sudden, the ache in his abdomen got worse as more blood poured out. The man's slice was a lot deeper than expected. With that, he came to a realization.

No. He has to answer her. Back when he turned into Conan, there was a tinge of hope that he can somehow return to his old body, that he can get through and treat his shrinking as nothing but a nightmare. But this is different. He was bleeding out blood for about an hour without any treatment whatsoever except for a piece of cloth—which is already too soaked— that he tied around the wound.

Although miniscule, there was coming back from turning into a seven year old. But dying? There was no redemption from something like being dead. He of all people knew that.

If he estimated, he still have at least six minutes. That's all the time he has. Six minutes until the pain is over, six minutes until he finally die. The least he can do was hear her voice one last time and to say goodbye.

Inhaling to somehow stabilize his ragged breathing, he pressed the answer button, slowly bringing the phone on his right ear.

"Shinichi?"

Hearing his girlfriend's voice made Shinichi forget for a second about his impending predicament. It was calm and soft, like music to his ears. A smile instinctively made it's way to his dry lips.

"Yo, Ran," he mumbled casually, as if the lack of blood wasn't about to make him pass out.

"Shinichi? Are you okay?" she immediately asked, worry lace in her tone. He planned on answering honestly, informing he didn't have much time left. For some reason however, things became different.

"Barou, of course I'm okay." the words naturally came out of his mouth despite his mind protesting, telling that what he was saying was wrong.

But after hearing a relieved sigh on her end, Shinichi started to rethink his previous decision. Is it really okay to worry her now when he knew she wouldn't be able to do anything anyway? Is it really fine to hear her voice change from it's usual sweetness into something bitter? Is it really right to break her heart for the remaining 6 minutes of his life?

'No,' Shinichi thought.

He didn't want his last minutes to be filled with sadness and regret. He didn't want the last thing he'll ever hear would be her cries over the phone, with him not being able to do anything to comfort her.

He can be selfish for just one last time, right?

"Mou, where are you exactly? You've been gone the whole day." she complained, her voice now having none of her initial panic, yet he can still hear the lingering concern. It made him realize once more how even after two years since the Conan incident, Ran still had nightmares and doubts about him going away. And now, he's about to leave her alone again.

Permanently.

"I miss you." he blurted out with sincerity, not wanting the regrets to eat him slowly. He leaned back further against the now bloodied wall, he despises how cold it is and wishing she was there to warm him up.

The line stayed quiet, but Shinichi imagined how flustered and red her face must have been. After returning to his teenage body, the detective didn't waste any time and made sure that Ran knows how much he loves her, to the point of overwhelming her sometimes. He took her out to countless dates, constantly saying sweet things, even being a bit more physical. Two years had passed yet she's still slowly getting used to it and he was fine with that.

He only wished he could stay longer until she finally did.

"I miss you too..." she quietly answered on the other line, a bit mortified. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle, delighting at her adorable reply. He got his karma however, when he ached on his wound because of the action.

Before he can tease, Ran quickly steered the topic away.

"Seriously, If you miss me so much, finish up the case faster. I'm making your favorite right now," she said, voice teasing and sweet, trying to mask her early embarrassment. True enough, Shinichi heard the slight whisking over the line making him also superficially smell the sweet scent of the lemon pie.

He imagined them five years later, Ran on her apron, standing behind the counter and whisking his favorite dessert while he hugs her from behind, wearing a satisfied expression. A flustered yet dreamy smile appeared on his face but he soon tasted a bitter feeling from the back of his throat wanting to be let out.

It wasn't vomit or blood but the disgusting taste of regret, him being aware he'll never be able to make his imagination a reality.

Wanting to forget the unsettling and resentful feeling on the pit of his gashed stomach, he redirected their topic by asking her about her day, feeling weaker and weaker as each second passed.

They managed to talk about a lot of things. They jumped from topic to topic, making jokes and flirting at the same time. It only lasted for four minutes, but it meant Shinichi's whole entire life. Within those said four minutes, he was also able to hide any sign of his painful situation, regardless of it getting worse and worse. Ran's gentle and kind voice also helped to calm him down, reminding him how he would break her if he showed any hints of distress.

Because of his experiences as Conan, Shinichi had built on a high pain tolerance when it comes to any physical injuries. He had his bones and muscles shrinking and growing time and time again after all. However, the blood loss was a different matter altogether.

He did well ignoring the dizziness and nausea, but his vision blurred even more than before, his world spinning despite him just leaning helplessly on the now bloodied ground, no longer capable of moving. Fatigue started to get to Shinichi as well, with him forcing his eyes to stay open despite it begging to be closed.

It didn't take long for Ran to notice, with his hearing getting weak and his voice slightly shaking from the shortness of breath. He tried to be firm, but he couldn't even breath properly anymore.

"Shinichi? Are you really okay?" she inquired, worry obvious and rising once again. He nodded his head languidly, as if she can see his answer.

"I'm....fine," he sighed heavily. "Just tired...."

"What do you mean tired? Where are you? Are you okay? Do you want me to end the call for you to---"

"No!" he cut her off, fear and desperation evident. Ran was clearly shocked, with only the echo of his voice being heard.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared. Not at the idea of dying, but the prospect of dying alone. He knew it was selfish, but he wanted—needed her there with him. He needed her warmth and kindess to envelope him, needed her voice to embraced him and take the pain away. But she wasn't there. The only thing he had left was her voice, and the thought of it gone as well absolutely terrified him.

"Shinichi...." Ran broke the silence, with Shinichi realizing what he had just done. He closed his eyes tightly shut, reprimanding his own stupidity.

"Shinichi... where are you?"she asked quietly, but Shinichi just moved his head slightly back and forth, indicating a no.

"It's okay Ran...it's too late anyways." he finally confessed, predicting his time limit being less than a minutes.

"I..got... stabbed. Been bleeding out for the last five minutes..." he managed to chew out, with hís breathing getting ragged as each word got out.

"What!? Why didn't you say so earlier!?" she was going hysteric and he was sure of the things going through her head.

"Shinichi please... tell me where you are. I'm coming there right now... please..." she pleaded. Shinichi heard her aggressively shoveling through her stuff and running fast, the sound of her heels clicking rapidly being it's proof.

"Ran, looks like it's my turn to wait for you this time, huh." even speaking was a challenge to him, panting hard as he finished.

"No! Shinichi, come on! Just tell me and I'm coming for you! Please...."

"I can't... you'll cry. I don't want the last thing I'll see... is you crying." he tried to laugh, but only managed a small chuckled.

The lines stayed quiet for a bit until he heard her sobbing. She was trying to cover it, but it was loud and clear to him. He frowned.

"Barou, didn't I tell you not to cry?" he tried to sound annoyed, but the fondness was so evident that even he heard it himself.

"Idiot! How can I not!? Don't do this to me.... What happened? Please, Shinichi...." she was now just crying uncontrollably, with no sign of stopping.

"Ran, listen to me..." he coaxed, trying to alleviate her cries with his voice.

"No! You're leaving! You're leaving me again....." she let out in between sobs and Shinichi can't help but feel a sting, picturing her as she spoke such words and what she must look like at the moment.

She was right. He was leaving her again. This time, with the certainty of never coming back.

"Come on, Ran, you know I hate it when you cry. So please..." he wanted to do something—anything to make her feel better. But all he could manage was a gentle and cajoling voice that seemed to have no effect on his girlfriend's wails.

"Why, why didn't you tell me!? I could have helped you! I could have..." she uttered incoherently, hiccuping. He shushed her gently, wanting to reason out.

"It was already too late. I already loss too much blood at that time. I didn't wanna worry you."

Ran still tried to protest by mumbling and rambling, but her tears were practically choking her. She couldn't speak.

"Ran, I love you so much...." he said, wanting to tell her for the last time, just how much his childhood friend meant to him.

Ran wasn't just his first love, she was also his greatest and last one. Even if he wasn't about to die, he knew that he would still choose her.

Her breath hitched from his confession. It seemed to calm her down as she controlled chokes and sobs, and he once more imagined her sitting on the floor, face a crying mess, but she was blushing and a loving smile plastered on her, still making her more beautiful than ever.

"I love you more," she answered, voice filled with pain and sorrow, yet laced with all the love and sweetness in the world. With that, Shinichi felt like the luckiest man alive.

"I love you most...." he jabbed back, not wanting to be outdone(and knowing that it was the absolute truth).

"You stay awake there do you hear me!? Don't close your eyes yet! I'm coming there right now so please, I'll definitely find you and be the one to beat you up so wait for me, Shinichi!" she commanded with so much conviction that he wanted to obey, but his body just wouldn't cooperate.

"Hmm..."

"Shinichi? Shinichi come on!" he was aware of her screams but they fell deaf to his buzzing ears.

'Ran, I'm sorry.'

Shinichi, contented hearing Ran for the final time and telling her how much she meant to him, wore the most genuine smile as he slowly closed his tired eyes, having no intention of opening them again.

"Shinichi? Shinichi!?" were the last lines he heard on the phone, as it slipped on his hand and dropped on the ground, lifeless, just like it's owner.

#detective conan #mouri ran #kudo shinichi #tragic #fanfic

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creepy-spooghetti · 4 years ago

Text

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 6- I’m Awake, I’m Alive

Most of that day is spent keeping herself busy and distracted with various things; reading, sketching, scrolling through YouTube and hoping to find something entertaining. Even over the course of several hours, her message to the unknown number has yet to be answered, but she never really expected it to be. And there’s always the chance that it wasn’t ever meant for her; perhaps they were trying to reach another Y\n.

It would be a big coincidence, but not one totally unbelievable. More likely than not though, it’s just some kid pulling a cheap prank. And she chooses to chalk it up to that exact thing. At around four-thirty in the evening, she decides to go downstairs and find something to eat, while also conversing a bit with her grandparents in an attempt to get rid of some of the unseen tension between the three of them.

The news that Darcy and Marvin were murdered and that her cousin is missing, likely dead and decaying in the woods somewhere, is still sinking in, and she assumes it will for quite a while yet. Something like that can’t just be brushed aside as if it’s completely meaningless, or at least, that’s what Y\n thought. But her careless father managed to do it. Impressive or just incredibly cold-hearted? A little bit of both, in her opinion.

She sees her grandmother in the kitchen, pulling a pan of something out of the oven, its sweet, enticing aroma traveling through the air and drifting up to her nose, therefore drawing her interest. She catches herself wandering into the room, recognizing the scent slightly though not wanting to outright assume anything. Nana turns, noticing Y\n’s abrupt appearance and looking almost surprised as she pulls the oven mitt off of her hand.

“Hi, dear,” she says, keeping her voice mellow and pointing at the stovetop. “I made cookies.” Ah, cookies. The first thing that’s sounded appetizing since breakfast, and that’s been hours ago. Her stomach rumbles mildly from within the confines of her torso, and only now does she realize how hungry that she’s quickly starting to become. Perhaps a couple of cookies can ease that for a bit longer until she feels like eating something more filling.

“Oh.” She steps closer to get a better view, tilting her head to the side curiously. “What kind?”

“Oatmeal chocolate chip. Your old favorite, remember?” Recalling the distant memories of her childhood self stuffing her face with the delightful treat without a care in the world makes her want to laugh, despite the constant nagging in her gut and the aching in her chest. God, I was so naive.

“Yeah, I remember,” she replies, a ghost of a smile sweeping over her face for the briefest of moments before being replaced by an eager expression as she takes another whiff of the cookies. “They smell so good.” Nana releases a small chuckle and shakes her head.

“I’m glad. Dig in, I made them especially for you.”

“Ah, you didn’t have to do that.” She meets the woman’s gaze with a sincere one of her own, knowing in the back of her mind that she only made them to act as a sort of comfort food for Y\n, and though she’s greatly appreciative, the idea of being pitied doesn’t sit well with her. Still, she won’t say anything about it. Nana did it solely out of compassion and love for her, and she isn’t going to reject that.

“Of course I did.” Her hand finds its way to the girl’s shoulder and squeezes it affectionately. “You’re only here for a few weeks. I have to make sure you know how much we love you.”

“I already do know, Nana.” Her voice is uncharacteristically soft as she looks to Farrah, touched at what the lady’s saying and trying to figure out how her father could have straight-up abandoned her without blinking an eye. “I don’t need cookies just to realize that.”

“Come here, baby,” she says, reaching her arms out and wrapping them around Y\n’s b\s frame in a gentle, caring embrace. The h\c leans into her, snaking her own arms around her but squeezing a bit more softly, relishing in the warmth of her grandmother’s hug. She knows that this is a temporary comfort; once her parents come back and she leaves, she likely won’t be returning until after she’s eighteen. That’s too long for her to wait. What if something terrible happens while she’s gone, like what took place at her cousin’s house just a couple of years ago?

She wouldn’t know how to react. Every emblem of love that’s left within her family can be found here, in this quaint household, and she isn’t ready to lose that. Especially since she only just rediscovered it. Nuzzling her face in the nook between Nana’a shoulder and neck, she squeezes her eyes shut and savors this feeling, fighting the tears threatening to form. She won’t cry and worry her; she has enough stress surrounding her as it is. The last thing Y\n wants is to be the cause of stress, for both of her grandparents.

A minute passes and Nana leisurely pulls away, grabbing a paper plate and napkin from off the counter and handing it to Y\n. At first, she thinks that maybe the napkin’s to wipe away tears that, unbeknownst to her, are slipping down her cheeks, though after she’s flashed with a sweet smile and Nana nods toward the tray of cookies, she realizes what it’s for and takes both from her hold. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, dear.” Y\n carefully picks up two of the cookies from the pan, being extra cautious so she doesn’t get burnt, and places them on the paper surface in her hand. She then grabs a glass of milk and heads to the living room, seeing Pops sitting in his chair, seemingly content as he watches reruns of Full House on the TV. Nervousness swivels in the depths of her chest, and she eases her way toward the couch, knowing that there’s likely to be a bit of anxiety lingering in the air between them since their conversation this morning.

Her throat, at this point, feels much better than it had previously, and she’s hopeful that no real damage was done to it during her unnerving, confusing spell of agony earlier. By tomorrow, maybe she’ll be able to talk in her regular voice without having the slightest twinge of pain in the back. She sets her glass on the coffee table, pretending not to notice the way her grandpa side-eyes her every few seconds, as if apprehensive about something.

Her eyes travel to look at the TV screen, trying to seem more interested in the show currently playing than she really is, until she can’t handle the pressure on her shoulders to just say something, break the ice in some way. Meeting his eyes timidly, she finally speaks, her tone honest. “Pops… I hope you know that I’m not mad at you for anything. I really do appreciate you telling me what happened.”

“Oh darlin’, I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you.” He twists around in his chair slightly to face her. “I know that news like that, especially after having just got here, has to be difficult to comprehend.” She shrugs solemnly as Nana makes her appearance, taking a seat beside her on the couch with her own cookies and milk held in her hands.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine.” Though her voice is disheartened, her facial expression is earnest as she takes a small bite of her cookie, a wave of nostalgia hitting her as she does so. “It can’t be harder on me than it is you guys. I’m sorry that happened.” She doesn’t see the sorrowful look that her grandparents share with each other before moving their attention on her, once again.

“We are too, Y\n,” Farrah says, lacking any better words as she pats her back comfortably. Y\n, after another drawn-out silence, wants nothing more than to just find a different subject to talk about so everybody in this house won’t feel so sad. Taking a sip of her milk, she glances at Pops.

“...So what season is this?” The question is directed at the TV show flashing across the screen, and he answers soon enough.

“Four.”

“What episode?”

“Eight, I think.”

“Ah. So DJ’s going on her ‘crash diet’.” He nods. She remembers aspects of the show quite well, having watched it constantly as a young kid and having a very distinctive crush on Jesse, though she hasn’t seen it in years so she isn’t 100% knowledgeable on everything about it. Episode 8 was fairly popular, though, so she’s able to recall certain details about it that she can’t about others. She doesn’t leave the living room again for another four and a half hours, using this time to visit with them and enjoying their enlightening company.

She can feel her eyelids start to droop as the sun begins its slow descent behind the trees, the bright silver moon replacing its glorious rays of light with something more gentle but just as majestic, soon accompanied by thousands of glimmering stars that pepper themselves all in the sky. Glancing out through the window to her right, she’s able to see a fluffy, white, and grey lump sitting on a chair outside and grooming itself, and she stands, going toward the front door to grant him entrance.

Once it’s open, his head shoots up and he stares at her a moment before hopping down and rubbing against her legs as he walks inside. She reaches down toward him and he briefly stands on his hind legs, bumping his head into her palm in greeting as she shuts the door. “Hey, Marshmallow,” she says, voice quiet. As expected, he soon walks away from her, in search of his food bowl, and she rolls her eyes, and her gaze trails back into the living room. Nana gets to her feet, releasing a yawn and running her fingers through her thin, grey hair. “Are you going to bed?”

“Yes, I am. Phil and I have to get up early and go to the store tomorrow to buy groceries.” Y\n’s lips form an “o” shape as she leans against the doorframe, fiddling with her fingers absentmindedly. “Will you be okay here alone for a little while?” A mildly concerned expression forms across Nana’s face. “Or do you want to come with us?”

Y\n thinks it over a second. She really doesn’t feel like going anywhere, but then again she could help them out and spend quality time with them. But she’d be in public. What if she were to have another coughing fit? Not only would it draw loads of attention, but it would make her grandparents frantic. She definitely doesn’t want that; they’ve got enough to worry about as it is. Not giving herself any more time to consider against staying home, she shakes her head lightly. “N-no, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m used to staying home alone anyways.” Nana looks a bit hesitant, though doesn’t further argue the point and instead nods.

“Alright. If you say so.” She pulls her in for a quick hug, which Y\n eagerly returns. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Call if you need anything.”

“You, too.” She watches as Farrah walks slowly up the stairs, going over what she’s going to preoccupy herself with, both tonight and tomorrow. She doesn’t want to go back to sleep for fear of having another nightmare, this one even more horrendous and bone-chilling than the last one. What’s her mind going to predict next? Marshmallow falling from the roof and dying? Her grandma slipping on mud and breaking her arm? She’s afraid of whatever it will be, which is why she’s decided to stay awake tonight for as long as possible.

She’s going to go to sleep at some point, whether she likes it or not, that much is inevitable. She just wants to delay that process for as long as possible. After all, how hard can it be? She’s pulled all-nighters before. All she has to do is participate in mind-jogging activities. Nothing relaxing like music, or tea, or reading. Things like sketching, or exercising, or listening to Jacksepticeye and Markiplier play horror games on full volume.

Then again, maybe horror games aren’t the best things to watch in her lowkey paranoid state. Perhaps she should instead watch things like babies falling asleep while eating an ice cream cone, or kittens playing with each other, or memes about the Avengers. Something entertaining and yet energizing at the same time. She turns to go put the cookies away so they won’t get stale sitting out, and as she does so, Pops switches the TV off, rises from his seat, and walks toward her, likely to inform her that he’s following his wife to bed.

"I'm gonna go to bed too, hummingbird." Yup. She thinks as he pats her on the shoulder. "Sweet dreams. Love you."

"Love you, too. Goodnight," she says, watching him walk away and up the stairs after Nana. If only I could actually have sweet dreams. She stretches the plastic wrap over the plate of cookies and begins to walk out of the kitchen, though not before switching the overhead light off and grabbing a stick of string cheese from the fridge to snack on while she finds something to do. Watch TV? Maybe there's something good on. But that may disturb Nana and Pops' sleep, so she decides against it. She takes her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through her Tumblr blog, a small smile stretching across her face each time she reads a supportive comment about her 'amazing' art skills.

She originally logged into Tumblr a couple of years ago, whenever her parents refused to give her constructive criticism, or any criticism at all, in fact, about her paintings, so one day she just gave up and turned to the internet. At the time, most of her friends had Tumblr blogs, so she figured, why not join in? So she began posting artwork that she did, and within a month's time, she had over a thousand followers. Way more than she ever expected to get.

Her last picture was posted on the 21st of June, one week before she was hauled all the way across two different states and dropped off at her grandparents' house without a second thought. Not that she can complain now, though. Her grandparents love her way more than her actual parents do, she's sure of it. And even if she's wrong, it would be nice to hear the words 'I love you' come from their mouths every once in a while. But she supposes she just isn't that lucky.

Marshmallow emerges from the darkened dining room, just having eaten his supper and likely ready for a long, relaxing nap. He hops onto the couch and kneads the cushion with his claws before slinking onto her thighs, curling into a fuzzy ball, and closing his eyes. Her hand finds its way to his head and she strokes softly, able to feel his body vibrate against her legs as he purs in content. She scrolls through notifications, watches YouTube compilations (on low volume as to not wake Nana and Pops), and plays games like Among Us and Agar.io until her phone battery is at 2% and the screen is dimmed to the lowest possible setting by default.

She looks at the time in the top right corner, now finding that it's 12:29 at night. Her charger is all the way upstairs, and to get to it she would have to disturb the resting feline. He's shuffled about and changed positions a couple of times during the past four hours, but has overall slept peacefully. With a defeated sigh, she drops her hand-held device next to her on a pillow and throws her head back, leaning into the couch cushions and staring up at the ceiling. Now that she has nothing to do but sit here in silence, she can't stop the giant wave of thoughts, questions, and concerns from hitting her and boosting her anxieties.

So many things seemed to have already happened in the mere four days that she's been here, ranging from mild and questionable to utterly fear-inducing or depressing. For starters, the terrible dreams she's been having almost every night? Or the way her latest dream basically predicted what she was going to be told only a day later? How about the random coughing fit, or the way Jack seemed to just disappear out of thin air? All these incidents plus some have her aching to know more, but at the same time, she's scared to know more. She has no clue what's happening. Maybe a bad case of allergies?

Yeah, right. Allergies don't predict the future or make weird men in white masks stare at you from the woods. She feels her eyelids grow heavy once more, though she shakes her head and bumps her temple with the heel of her hand to keep herself from becoming drowsy. You can not afford to go to sleep, right now. Her eyes land on a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, and she blinks, focusing perhaps a little too hard on it as she tries to see a spider or any other living creature nestled inside, but fails to.

She studies it for so long that her vision becomes blurry and the only thing she can center her attention on is that same cobweb. Random ideas pop up in her mind, thoughts that would normally be considered strange by individuals who get enough sleep at night, but they're only intriguing to Y\n. How long has the web been there? Did its weaver die? Did it once protect thousands of baby spiders until they hatched? Could she reach up and touch it if she were standing on a piece of furniture?

Before she can even comprehend it, her eyes are fluttering closed and she's drifting off into an alleviating sleep. At least, she would have been, had her body not jolted awake right beforehand and left her heart beating wildly within her chest from the sudden adrenaline rush she just experienced. Glancing around, she quickly recalls where exactly she is and releases a huff from her nose, raking a hand through her hair. Oh yes, what a classic. Falling from a building and waking up before you hit the ground. How exciting.

Her abrupt movements shake Marshmallow and he, too, wakes from his deep sleep, looking a bit alarmed before letting out a yawn, his white canines on full display for the shortest of moments before he rests his head on his paws, once more. Y\n slides her hands beneath his small body, however, and lifts him up, kissing his cheek preparatory to laying him on a particularly soft-looking pillow on her right. "Sorry, buddy. I've gotta get up before I go to sleep, too."

He shoots her a dissatisfied scowl and curls his tail in front of his eyes as if telling her he doesn't want to even look at her. She turns to head upstairs, albeit quietly, stopping by the bathroom to relieve her screaming bladder on her way to her bedroom. As she steps out from behind the door and turns off the light, though, she catches sight of her father's old room, the door shut for some peculiar reason. They probably just didn't want to be reminded that their once loving son left them behind without a care in the world.

Knowing she has better things to do than peer into a bit of her joke of a father's childhood, she lets out the tiniest of scoffs and goes to her own room, unable to ease the bit of pain that forms in her chest as she does so. The woman that this room used to belong to is gone. Dead. Out of the picture. This room will always hold a part of her in it. It shows what her personality was like back when she was Y\n's age, and beyond that. It's a sad and difficult revelation to come to, but Y\n bites the inside of her cheek and keeps the tears at bay. She doesn't want to cry, not right now. She just wants to avoid another scare that will take five more years off of her life. How does she do that? She refuses to sleep.

Although, when one doesn't rest for long periods of time, they can suffer hallucinations. Y\n does not want to suffer from hallucinations, but she supposes that at least she would know that they aren't real. They're merely figments of her imagination. Like that masked figure at the edge of the forest. Or the weird buzzing in her head. Heck, maybe Jack isn't even real. How else would he vanish without a trace? Or get black sludge on her face from what was supposed to have been a nosebleed? It's all a bit too baffling for her, so she just chooses to go with the most simple and less mind-boggling explanation; they were hallucinations. Granted, very vivid hallucinations, but hallucinations nonetheless.

It wouldn't be too far of a stretch. She hasn't been getting enough sleep lately, that on top of lacking a social life, her pathetically bad parents, and discovering three of her closest family members are gone would give just about any person mental strain. She grabs her sketchbook from her backpack, considering the blank canvas sitting inside a moment before disregarding the thought. Making some terribly-drawn pictures should keep her busy for a couple of hours more.

Her stomach rumbles, signifying that it's empty and wants something that will actually fill it up, and as she passes the kitchen after walking back down the stairs, sketchbook, and pencils in hand, her mind wanders. What could she eat that is both appetizing and satisfactory, that wouldn't take forever to make, and that wouldn't cause unnecessary racket? Nothing that she can think of. That string cheese appealed to her just fine. The same clearly can't be said for her stomach.

Perhaps she just isn't in the mood nor the mindset to care about eating anything else for the time being, but oh well. A bit of hunger never hurt anyone, right? She inwardly curses herself when she realizes that she forgot to grab her phone charger from her room while she was there, and now she'd have to trek all the way back up the stairs just to get it. She does not feel like she has the energy at the moment to do such a thing, but would she rather have a dead phone? What good is that? It isn't like I have people to contact, anymore. Or who contact me.

But what if her parents were to try and get ahold of her about something, but she wasn't available? What if one of them got in a car accident, or their trip got canceled and they were going to be returning tomorrow? Wouldn't she want to be notified of something like that? They're both highly doubtful scenarios, but they're a possibility, if only minor ones. "Agh, fine." She grumbles to herself, laying her things on the coffee table and spinning around to, once again, walk up the staircase that just seems to get longer each time she conquers it, going into her bedroom and being thankful that the lamp sitting on the desk is switched on to provide comforting light.

She unplugs the cord from the outlet and wraps it messily around her hand, being careful not to get it tangled. Tangled wires are the worst, every modern-era kid would agree. Especially earplugs. Once they're twisted and knotted, it either takes hours of work trying to fix and get them straightened out—valuable time most people don't have to waste—or spend more money buying a new set. Sure, she's never really had a problem with that whole money issue, but it's still frustrating because oftentimes she never has a ride and is forced to walk all the way to the store in order to buy a new pair, either that or wait a week for the ones from Amazon to be delivered. And who wants to do that?

Perceiving the fact that she just had a mental rant solely about tangled earbud wires, she snorts quietly and shakes her head in disbelief. God, I really am going crazy. She's about to head back toward the living room but stops in her tracks and instead averts her gaze outside, to the darkness blanketing the house in an eerie aura. She isn't sure what possesses her to do it in the first place, all she knows is that she leans in closer to the window, her eyes scanning the area as if looking for something. What that 'something' is, she hasn't a clue.

Just as she's about to give up and look away, she spots it. At the edge of the treeline, shrouded partly by bushes, is some sort of lanky figure. Maybe it looked too much like an actual tree that she easily looked over it the first few times, but now, it's like she can't take her eyes away. A familiar buzzing sound wraps around her mind as she has a one-sided staring contest with this... thing. Or is it really one-sided? She can't make out many details simply because it's too dark, but it looks to be wearing a formal outfit of some kind. Perhaps a suit? Its skin looks white almost, but that could also be the silvery beams from the moon shining down and reflecting off of it in a way that lacks any color.

Her chest tightens and her breathing quickens as she finally forces herself away, blinking frantically and rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. Another hallucination, that's all it is. There is nothing out there but nature, nothing scary at all. She's fine, she's only imagining it. That's what she repeats in her head, over and over for the next thirty seconds before willing herself to look outside, again, purely out of curiosity. To confirm what she's tried convincing herself.

The droning disappears from her mind, and she's more than relieved when she sees nothing but trees. No boogyman in the bushes, no lanky beast lurking behind the trees and waiting to murder her. It's fine. Rolling her eyes, she exits the room and walks back downstairs, into the living room. Marshmallow is still lying on the pillow, probably asleep by now, and she steps quietly to the couch, fitting the charger into an outlet nearby before plugging the other end into her phone and setting it back on the table.

She tries to get comfortable, sitting on the soft surface and resting her back against its arm. Her legs stretch out, though not all the way so she doesn't bump the fluffy feline and for the third time that night, disrupt his sleep. The lighting in the room is gentle and soothing, but still helpful, and it allows her to see the sketchpad propped in her hands and resting against her slightly bent legs fairly well. She takes a 6B pencil and begins tracing dainty lines across the paper, forming a mental image of what she wants to draw and slowly bringing it to life.

The hours pass by expeditiously as she creates one drawing after another, not particularly satisfied with any of them but just content that she found something to both keep her awake and entertained. Though try as she might, she just can't keep the drowsiness at bay for more than a few minutes at a time. She could make coffee. That has loads of caffeine. Caffeine keeps people awake, right? But she doesn't ever remember seeing either of her grandparents drinking it. Odd. Most of her old friends' grandparents and parents alike drank coffee all the time, for either work or just out of habit. Isn't coffee a known drink for older people?

Maybe Nana and Pops just don't like it. She supposes it is quite an acquired taste; she's tried it on multiple occasions and it wasn't exactly satisfactory, but it had a strong flavor. That's what she needs. But if her grandparents don't drink it, what can she get? Tea? No, people drink that specifically to relax. She wants to be anything but relaxed. Her breathing and heart rate slows steadily, and she loses her train of thought. Soda. Soda could work. It's tasty and it hypes you up, which is exactly what she desires.

She mentally screams at her body to get up, to move, but it seems to be too exhausted to do any such thing, much to her displeasure. Each time her eyes begin to close, she pries them open, again, and tries to concentrate fully on the drawing half-done in her hands. But alas, her decreased energy level and the lulling thought of rest wins the battle, and despite all her greatest efforts, her fingers become limp, she slides farther down into the couch and drifts off to sleep.

～

The first thing she notices is the smell. The rancid, horrid smell of something rotting. A smell that she recognizes all too well. The area surrounding her is dark, and she has to blindly walk around and hope that she doesn't bump into or trip over anything. A familiar fear sinks into her chest as she tries to be as quiet as possible. Drawing the attention of some hungry cryptid wouldn't be a very wise thing to do, after all.

Her body shakes mildly in apprehension, and she glances around desperately, eager to see something, anything, that could tell her where on earth she's currently standing. Or is she even on earth anymore? Is she on another planet, or been teleported to a whole different dimension? The possibilities seem endless, much like the questions swarming her mind, as she treks forward, cautiously. The gloom around her gradually lessens, and at last, she can make some form of sense from everything. This place. She knows this place. This is her aunt's and uncle's house.

It's the same as she remembers, save for the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and the knocked-over flower pots scattered along the floor. Aimlessly, she wanders through the household, looking for any sign of life that may possibly still reside here. The smell gets worse the farther she goes, and suddenly, she shivers. It's getting chilly. Cold is often an indication of death, not life. She turns, looking into the ominously dark hallway before her and hesitating. Does she want to go?

No, she doesn't. She wants to leave. Nobody's here, so she shouldn't be, either. But an invisible force pushes her forward, and slowly, she starts walking. Deeper into the dreadfully sinister corridor, the smell getting stronger and more repulsive, so much so that she's forced to cover her nose just to stop herself from gagging. Her feet get stopped by something lying in the middle of the floor, and she places a hand on the wall so she doesn't fall.

She squints her eyes at the ground, trying to see the object, and eventually just bends over and grabs it. This is no ordinary object. It's her uncle Marvin's javelin. The so-called 'murder weapon'. She stares down at it, ignoring the foreboding fog gripping at her feet. It's slippery. Why is it slippery?

A shriek of what she can only describe as agony erupts from the room at the end of the hall, the end that she finds herself too close to for her liking. The door is closed, obstructing her view from the inside, then again that may be a good thing. Subconsciously, she grips the javelin, suddenly not caring what's on it and why it's slippery. If anything comes barreling through that door at least she has something to stab it with.

She backs away anxiously, her breathing increasing as her eyes never leave the closed entrance. Her hands shake and her footsteps are uncoordinated, but she doesn't really mind it, just as long as she's able to escape before whatever happened to that person inside the room happens to her.

She bumps into something hard, and squeaks from alarm, twisting around, ready to attack. Though she only gasps when she sees a wall. No, surely not... it's impossible. But if it isn't...

Her eyes avert around, looking for another door, but all of them have disappeared. It's like whatever force surrounds her wants her trapped. All of her exits are gone. She has no escape, and she tries to blink away the distressed tears, gripping onto the javelin even tighter than before. Only now does she realize that the door from the end of the hallway has gotten closer, so close in fact, that she could take two steps and she'd be able to touch it.

Trepidation masks all of her previously sensible thoughts and a whimper escapes from between her lips as she wills herself to do it. Just do it and it'll be over. She'll know what lies behind the door. But at the expense of her life? It doesn't look like she has another choice.

Reluctantly, she reaches out and twists the knob, and to her dismay, the door creaks open. It's silent from the other side, meaning that whoever it was screaming before has been silenced. Likely by death, as that seems to be the only reasonable explanation. But maybe it's a prank?

She steps through, muscles tensed and weapon at the ready. Empty. The room is empty, with only a window allowing the moonlight to shine through and spill onto the floor. A crash from behind her, and she looks back, eyes widening when she sees the door slammed shut. Oh well, she could always go through the window. The real question is, who closed it? Another shiver wracks her body, and a whiff of that same powerful odor near about makes her throw up.

A loud static courses through her mind as she twists back around, not trying to hold back the tears that fall from her eyes once she notices two motionless bodies lying in the moonlight. They most certainly weren't there a second ago. Neither was all of the blood. Two large pools of it, beneath their mangled corpses, where they were mercilessly stabbed. But with what? A strangled sob climbs its way up her throat, and she drops the javelin, letting it clatter to the floor.

Blood is all over her hands. It's all over the javelin. There's no doubt in her mind where it came from. But if she has the murder weapon, where is the murderer? She turns on her heel, grabbing at the doorknob, trying to twist it open, but her hands are too wet. They slide down it each time.

"Let me out!" Her voice seems more voluminous than it would usually be, but she suddenly doesn't care who hears her, anymore. She just wants away. Out of this nightmare. Can't it just end already? The static grows stronger, more painful, and she takes to beating on the wooden portal, kicking it as hard as she can. Maybe it will rot away. Maybe she can escape. "Please!"

The desperation is thick in her horrified tone, and she musters up all of her strength, taking in a breath and slamming into it. To her relief, it snaps and she falls to the floor. Finally, she reached the other side. Finally, she can escape. A cold wind blows through her hair and she takes notice of the grass beneath her trembling frame. Grass? Wasn't she just in a house?

Trees. Endless trees surround her, their branches seeming like wicked beasts in the shrill moonlight and the shadows hovering around. There's one right in front of her, a large one. There's something carved into its trunk. She crawls forward a few inches in an effort to see what it is. A message maybe? It looks like a messily-crafted circle with an oversize 'X' in its center. What does that even mean? She almost wants to think that she's seen it, before, but she can't figure out where.

"I control you..." A whisper rides the wind and meets her ears, giving her goosebumps as she shakily stands to her feet.

"Who are you!?" she screams, wanting more than anything to know who is causing this torment.

"Where I go..."

"What do you want from me!?" Her voice cracks, and she looks around frantically for the source of the disembodied voice.

"...you will follow..."

～

Her eyes shoot open and her head turns to the side, trying to remember where she is currently as she attempts to slow her shaky, shallow breaths. The living room. She’s in the living room. Not her aunt’s house. She isn’t trapped, there are no dead bodies, no javelins. She’s safe. Tears well up in her eyes and she sniffs, looking back to the sketch pad still in her hands and being quite alarmed at what she sees. In the center of the page, drawn in dark grey and scribbled carelessly, or hurriedly, is a circle and an ‘X’ that’s placed inside, its limbs elongated and escaping out of the confines of the circle. It obscures her unfinished sketch beneath, making it look more like a background than an actual drawing.

She switches her attention down to her dominant hand, fingers clenched painfully around her pencil, as if she had just been gripping it for dear life, and releases her hold, letting it drop to her lap as she leisurely sits up and tries to gain control of her rapid heart rate. It was just another dream.

A low, threatening sound reaches her ears, and her eyes shift up toward the opposite end of the couch, instantly growing confused when she sees Marshmallow, ears folded back in aggression and tail swishing around as he stares at her warily. She furrows her eyebrows, wanting to reassure him that everything’s okay, and leans forward, reaching her hand out to him cautiously. “Hey, boy, i-it’s okay. Don’t be scared—” She’s cut off when he suddenly swipes at her hand, claws drawn, and slices through her skin, sending a burst of pain through her nerves.

She winces and yanks her arm back, examining the damage and seeing three vertical lines traveling the length of the back of her hand, blood quickly coming to the surface and making them much more noticeable. This seems to be the thing to drive her over the edge because she lets out a broken squeak as nausea starts to make its presence known.

She feels the abrupt urge to throw up, and tosses her sketchpad and pencil to the side, standing to her feet and hurrying to the nearest bathroom, the one on the first floor of the household. Her stomach swirls uncomfortably and makes her go even faster, not wanting to soak the floor in vomit, until she reaches the said bathroom, only bothering to switch on the light before collapsing in front of the toilet, pushing the seat up, and craning her neck forward.

With one hand, she pulls her hair back, and the other she grips the porcelain, hold tightening automatically as her stomach convulses, sending bile to the back of her throat. This alone makes her gag and forces the hot substance out of her mouth, where it lands in the toilet and makes a small splash. The odor finds its way up her nose and makes her gag once more as acid and half-processed food gets torn from her mouth, chunks of cookie, cheese, and bacon floating in the now discolored water, amongst the puke.

She takes deep, consoling breaths, trying to brace herself for another wave of inevitable retching as her fingers squeeze the toilet bowl, so hard her knuckles turn white. As expected, her stomach contracts, however this time the only thing that comes out is more acid and bloody mucus, much to her displeasure. She continues her aching process of heaving up nothing, strained tears slipping down her cheeks and dropping into the water mere inches away from her face at this point, until finally, her body has all the exertion it can take, and it gives out, allowing her to collect her bearings.

She gasps for breath and releases the toilet, leaning her back against the wall and zoning out as she stares at the floor. Her hands shake uncontrollably, and she swipes at her mouth in an effort to get rid of the sticky liquid residing on her lips, before letting out a sob and tucking her knees into her chest. Burying her face in her arms, she muffles her cries and whimpers pathetically. What the heck is going on? What’s wrong with me…?

#Creepypasta #Creepypasta x reader #female reader #Creepypasta fanfiction #Creepypasta fanfic #Marble Hornets #grandparents #summer vacation #Nana #Pops #Y\n L\n #nightmare #Operator symbol #Slenderman #death

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fleckcmscott · 5 years ago

Text

Another Year

Summary: Arthur’s birthday is coming up. Y/N wants nothing more than to make it great.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 3,892

A/N: This request came from the one-of-a-kind, fabulous @sweet-nothings04! Thank you for asking for this. I enjoyed writing it a lot!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! Keep them coming!

Y/N hadn't realized how much she'd missed putting together birthday celebrations. Not until the unexpected serendipity of falling in love again. Her ex-husband had preferred not to make a big deal of them, had stated he hated getting older. (Considering he'd been in his twenties, she'd found that assertion silly.) As her father had slipped away, special events and gifts had gone by the wayside to focus on routines that wouldn't throw him off kilter. She'd been invited to her sister's and brother-in-law's parties but had only stayed for the hour or two she'd hired a sitter. And while she wasn't the most attentive aunt, she always ensured her nephews and nieces at least got a card and money for a treat.

From what she'd gathered, birthdays had never been an important facet of Arthur's life. That had become obvious upon learning his was 11/21/1946 by reading documents instead of from him. When she'd discovered he'd turned thirty-five and hadn't even told her. But unlike her ex, it wasn't because he didn't want them to be. It was due to neglect, isolation, and the inability to connect. As much sympathy as she had for Penny, for her own illnesses and suffering, for what had been done to her, the wounds she'd inflicted on her son hurt Y/N’s heart. There were so many lost years. She was determined to make-up for them by spoiling him.

The diner where Patricia and she often met for lunch was halfway between their two offices. A five- or six-minute walk for them both. Y/N arrived first. She sat at the white and gold Formica counter and perused the menu. (Though she'd already decided to get her usual pastrami on wheat, garlic pickle, and coleslaw.) Patricia strolled in as the waitress jotted down Y/N's order, and told the young lady she'd have whatever Y/N was having.

They caught up quickly. The Wayne Foundation case was going to have a preliminary hearing in three weeks. Y/N couldn't have rolled her eyes harder. ("Thank god I won't be there. They'd have to drag me off the stand.") Patricia listened with interest while Y/N went on about a dispute involving break violations at Ace Chemicals. And Patricia invited her to stop by the office soon, claiming Matt had realized he'd been stupid to let her quit. ("I'm sure he misses me being a pain in his ass.")

Y/N was picking at the crust of her sandwich when she changed the subject. “I need a favor.”

Patricia arched a brow at her. “Is this going to involve me lugging boxes of files to your apartment?”

“Only if you want the workout.” Chuckling, Y/N shook her head. “Arthur’s birthday is next Saturday. You bake the best cakes. If I’m left to my own devices, he’s going to get something out of a Universal Foods’ box.”

“Mine are out of a box. I just modify the directions and make my own frosting.” Patricia used the rest of her bread to sop up her coleslaw’s dressing. “How old did you say he’s going to be? Thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six.”

Swallowing her last bite, Patricia quirked up the corner of her lips. “I still owe you for running those supplies to the office when my foot was broken. What kind does he like?”

Y/N hugged her tight across the shoulders. After a short discussion, they decided on chocolate with vanilla cream frosting - a safe choice. It would be small, since it was only for the two of them. Arthur had a job the day before. That would allow her to take it home without him seeing. She’d just have to keep him away from the fridge the rest of the evening.

They talked about the other things Y/N had in-store for him, the reservation, the gifts. She giggled, pleased at having successfully hidden it all from him so far. “You’re putting a lot of work into this,” Patricia said. “What did you do last year?”

“I didn’t know about it last year. He didn’t mention it.” Though Patricia was already aware of some of Arthur’s past, Y/N had kept the details to a minimum. She tried to think of an elaboration, one that respected his privacy but was honest. She started in on her pickle. “With Penny being sick - with everything he was going through...”

Sipping her coffee, Patricia spun her stool to face Y/N fully. “You don’t need to say anymore. I remember. It was hard for you both.”

The empathy in Patricia’s gaze prompted a smile. And reminded Y/N how grateful she was for a friend who was frank but unjudgmental. “Back then, he thought needing or wanting anything from me was a bother. But he’s getting better at letting me love him.” Y/N put a hand on her chest. “And now he’ll never need to mention it. It’s locked in here for good.”

~~~~~

Yesterday had left Arthur in a funk. One that showed signs of adhering to his brain the way flies had stuck to the tape he’d had to hang from the ceiling of his old apartment every spring. He’d spent close to twelve hours dancing and waving a “Store Closing! Everything 50-70% off!” placard in front of Dave’s Pleasure Emporium in Gotham Square. (The city must really be fucked if its denizens’ finances were shitty enough that adult shops were shutting down.) It had been his least favorite gig in months. But the slow season was coming on, and the pay had been decent.

The dull ache in his lower spine, radiating to his hip, had made it harder than usual to sleep. And soreness was seeping from familiar spots to sinews he’d forgotten were there. Even the tips of his toes hurt. Two more ibuprofen tablets and acetaminophen went down easily. Carefully, not wanting to rouse her, he removed Y/N’s hand from his stomach, wincing as he shifted onto his left side to alleviate the pressure on his right.

Thirty-five was too old for this. While he loved performing for children, he should have made it as a comic by now. And he should have finished school. He’d be able to do more than be on his feet all day, then. Have more options. Opportunities...

Or maybe he simply shouldn’t have taken that particular job.

The ability to stop catastrophizing, adjust his way of thinking, was new. And rare. He made a mental note to write today’s accomplishment in his journal and share it at his next appointment. The therapist would be impressed with him. Dozing, he thought his funk might abate after all.

It could have been five or fifty minutes later when he felt the comforter being dragged down. Heard the zip of the shades being rolled up. But he was in that snug state between wakefulness and slumber and refused to react. Then there was a pinch on his chin, a light weight on his scalp. “What are you doing?” he mumbled gravelly.

“It’s someone’s special day today,” Y/N said.

Oh. That’s right. He was thirty-six now.

Squinting in the bright sunlight filtering through their sheer curtains, he propped himself on his forearm. She was half-reclined next to him, draped in a short, black nightdress. The one she found a tad tawdry but he liked. He rubbed his eyes, his forehead. Thin cardboard stopped him when he reached his hair. His fingers followed it, found it tapered into a point.

A party hat. She’d gotten him a party hat. He couldn’t hold back his snort.

In his line of work, birthdays were for kids. He’d stopped caring about his own as a teenager. Penny had seemingly been glad he was around. But she never remembered. Hell, he’d had to remind her of her own. But the last acknowledgment of it, the last one before meeting Y/N, had been by a teacher. He’d gotten an extra five minutes of recess and escaped punishment for inappropriate laughter for the day.

This was his first birthday with a person who saw and loved him. Understood who he was. Knew he was more than some image projected onto him. A person who appeared thrilled he existed and to be in his life. As a husband. Every sit-com and film he’d watched had clued him in: wives deemed them important. They hid gifts, cooked special meals, sneaked around arranging parties. There hadn’t been any sneaking on Y/N’s part, none that he could detect. He wondered what she could have planned.

The kneading of her thumb in the hollow of his hip, briefs slung too low as usual, gave him a good idea of her plan for this morning. The entangling of their legs confirmed it. “I got donuts. Coffee’s ready.”

“You, um-“ He cleared his throat, closed his eyes at the brush of her thigh against his length. Which was getting harder with each touch of her lips to the crook of his neck. “You didn’t make breakfast?”

“No.” Her chuckle was throaty, full of desire. “I wasn’t going to torture you with burnt eggs.” She was pulling at his biceps, trying to get him to settle over her. “Let’s work up your appetite, Mr. Fleck.”

But he flinched and halted her movements. The painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. His muscles burned. "We'll get to it later," he promised between languid, lingering kisses. The kind that made him feel safe. Loved. Famished for her. She guided him onto his stomach, stroked him affectionately. Breaths mingling, they chatted lazily until they both cooled off.

Once his stomach started rumbling, Y/N insisted they get up, despite his protestations that he wasn't hungry. That staying under the covers with her for hours would be fun. That they could eat in bed, crumbs be damned. His back would get worse if he continued laying like that, she told him. He needed to stretch and move. Although he grumbled, his experiences with injuries, whether from overwork, assholes, or sleeping on a couch most of his life, had taught him she was right.

Following a cigarette on the fire escape, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a mug, and did a double-take at the round table in the dining nook. He approached it in disbelief. He tensed as he ran his hand along the rectangular gifts and their shiny red paper. Squeezed the puffy, tan winter coat. Fingered the silver ribbon tied to the chair, dangling from an aluminum helium balloon. The lump in his throat forced a short laugh. But he didn't cover his mouth, not having to hide from her. He shook his head, wiping at the sudden wetness in his eyes. "All this is for me?" He did his best to sound normal.

"No. They're for my other husband, Carnival." She came behind him, hugged him around his torso and splayed her fingers on his chest. "You may have met him. Has a penchant for making balloon animals? Wears pants with the cutest patch on his bottom?" He grasped her forearm, held her tight to him as his shoulders shook with mirth.

It wasn't yet eight o'clock. And the day was already shaping up to be one of his favorites.

~~~~~

At the vanity on Arthur's side of the bed, Y/N was attempting to create the perfect oval eye with brown liner. The wide smile creeping onto her face wasn't making it easy. But it couldn't be helped. Everything had gone wonderfully so far. Had more than met her expectations. She hoped his had been met, too.

She'd been badgering him to get a winter coat since last Christmas. (His teeth had chattered almost the entire time they'd stood outside to watch Gotham's Christmas parade. The hot chocolate from a vendor hadn't done much good. A long bath had been necessary to finally warm him up.) The one she'd picked out fit him well, and he'd seemed to like it, hanging it by the door next to his tan jacket. And she'd known he was attached to his trusty, foil razor. But it was over fifteen years old, taped together, and on its way out. The new one had a rechargeable battery. He wouldn't be tethered to the outlet over the sink if he wanted to move around a bit.

The twitch of his nostrils, his hitched breath as he'd whispered, "Thank you," had compelled her to kneel next to his chair. The poignancy of his reaction had affected her keenly. Hollowed out her core and filled it with compassion and love. He'd frowned and wiped his nose with the back of his knuckles. "Sorry," he'd scoffed, glistening eyes darting to hers. "I don't mean to be weird."

"You're not, Arthur." She'd gently removed his black and red polka-dotted party hat, set it on the table. "You're being you."

After a quick lunch, they'd leisurely strolled arm-in-arm through the neighborhood, including a visit to the nearby park. Arthur had wanted to stop into the used record shop three or four blocks away. She'd caressed up and down his back, observing his content visage as he flipped through the LPs. It was lovely to see him treat himself to a couple without hesitating to worry about the cost for too long. At home, he'd settled on the floor by the record player and put them on. He must have been feeling better, because he'd kept his earlier promise: they'd made love on the carpet. Unhurried, sweet, and giggling like idiots.

The opening of the bathroom door broke her out of her reverie. She started blotting her darker-than-usual red lipstick with a tissue. "It was nice of Patricia to get me aftershave," he said.

She smoothed the lines of her champagne color, mid-length dress, adjusted its petal sleeves, then twisted around just as he entered the bedroom. Her movements halted. Would his handsomeness, his beauty, ever fail to stun her? Gaze roaming his slender form, she stared at him. He'd only worn his black and brown oxfords seldomly, saving them for special occasions. The wrinkled white socks didn't match his black pants, but they paired well with him.

It was the teal button-up, patterned with white circles of various opacities and sizes, that caused her to need a few seconds to process his remark. It'd hung in the corner of his old living room; she'd eyed it in their closet since he'd moved in. It was such a contrast to his usual conservative clothing. Quite unlike him, she'd assumed. But seeing him standing there in it, the way it complimented his lithe figure and brought out the light green of his irises, made him look a little less withdrawn, she realized she'd been mistaken.

"She thought it'd suit your new shaver." He gave a gentle hum in response, bashful smile appearing. Such gestures were unfamiliar to him. Eventually, they'd become such an integral part of his life he'd grow tired of them. Y/N would make sure of that. The idea prompted a grin and she stepped around the bed to approach him. "You look great. Are you ready?"

“Yeah.” The crook of his mouth, the furrow of his forehead alerted her to his nervousness. He rubbed the back of his neck, flitted his look to hers. “It sounds fancy.”

She kissed him soundly and he eased into her embrace. “You don’t have to impress me,” she said. “You already did that. Use whichever fork you want.”

The restaurant was in Gotham’s Little Italy district, only a block or two from Chinatown. Y/N had never been to Bamonte’s but her colleagues had given it good reviews. (One had said he and his wife went there every anniversary.) Arthur gaped when they went inside. She watched him survey the lavish, red curtains decorating the walls; the dim lanterns suspended from the ceiling; the faux-marble floor. Huffing, he turned to her, concern clear on his face. She grasped his elbow. “It’s all right. You belong here as much as anyone else.”

The maitre’d led them to a secluded table, behind its own drawn back drapes in the rear corner of the smoking section. Arthur traced the edges of the three lit, tulip-shaped votive holders. Caressed the cream color tablecloth as he sat in the fabric covered chair. An anxious chuckle left him and he smoothed his palm over his thigh. “I hope I don’t spill anything.”

Y/N assisted Arthur with the menu, explaining some of the more exotic-to-him dishes. He was interested in the antipasto, which wasn’t unexpected, since he always kept a jar of olives in the fridge. The gnocchi with tomatoes, spinach, fresh basil, and mozzarella was what he thought sounded best. She chose an old favorite, chicken in a mushroom and white wine sauce and a Caesar salad on the side. Arthur picked the least expensive Moscato on the wine list. When the bottle was opened and left on the table, he blinked at it, then shrugged and filled their glasses.

After a couple of sips, he crossed his legs and puffed on his cigarette. “I wrote a new joke. Well, I really just changed an old one.” He reached across the table to graze across the back of her hand. “Why didn’t the old man like having insomnia?”

Her eyelids fluttered, his gossamer touch setting her aflame. She ran her toes along his calf, his resulting twitch causing her to giggle in delight. “He wanted to sleep with his wife?”

Dark brows shot up in surprise, his eyes lighting up. Their fingers laced together. “How did you know?”

Leaning forward, she traced his crow's feet, prominent due to his beaming smile. Then her touch drifted to his jawline. “It was the first joke you ever told me," she murmured. "How could I forget?” Clutching her hand, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. He held her to his lips, hard enough to feel his teeth. And he grew quiet. “What is it?” she asked after a minute.

His eyelids shut. She could feel his pulse quicken together with hers. “I- I wanna sleep with you forever,” he breathed.

Out of anyone else’s mouth, she would have taken that to mean sex. From him, however, she knew it meant mountains more. Adoration welling in her chest, her fingertips weaved into his loose, chestnut curls. “You will.”

~~~~~

Once, in high school, Arthur had gotten a hold of some grass. It was supposed to induce giddiness and euphoria, make a person relax. God knows he could have used it back then; Penny had started declining and he’d had to learn to run a household. Plus, he’d thought at the time, it’d make him one of the guys. All the cool kids were doing it. Maybe he’d be able to connect with one and learn how to be popular. But all it had done was make him nauseous and paranoid. There hadn’t been one iota of the “high” he’d imagined. He’d thrown it out and never tried it again.

Now he wondered: was it possible to be high on a person? To be drunk on their presence? To feel their essence down to the cell? Necking on the sofa with Y/N, their coffee forgotten on the coffee table, he figured it must be. Enraptured, he wanted to capture her ragged breaths, take her into his lungs, make her a perpetual part of his being. Perhaps he’d stay happy naturally, then, like everyone else. Even if that didn’t work, she’d always be close.

Giggling, she pushed him off her and headed towards the kitchen. “Wait here. No peeking.”

Laughing softly, Arthur pushed his hair out of his face. She’d already gotten him gifts. Let him make love to her. Taken him to an eatery where he was totally out of place and managed to make it comfortable. What else could she possibly do? Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. He eagerly followed at the call of his name.

The loveliest cake he’d ever seen was on the counter. Dark chocolate shavings embellished its round border. And it was the perfect size for the two of them. Y/N was rushing to light a mass of candles on it. “Quick, make a wish before wax drips onto the frosting.”

He mused for a moment. He no longer needed to pine for daydreams and delusions of companionship - he had Y/N. In spite of the icons his mother had had in every room of their apartment, he’d long ago stopped praying to what he suspected was nothing for his conditions and illnesses to go away. Then it occurred to him. Bending to blow out the candles, he wished for his innate comedic gifts to be recognized. To be validated as the stand-up he knew he was. And to provide for Y/N. To be what she needed. To make her happy.

Although he was grateful for Patricia’s thoughtfulness, and he knew Y/N’s baking wasn’t better than his own, part of him had wanted her to be the one who made the cake. But he tried to push that aside and appreciate it regardless. The slice she gave him was far too generous. He ate it all, anyway, because it was delicious. The sponge was fluffy. And the chocolate could actually be detected, instead of a vague, sugary flavor. The frosting tasted finer than that on the grocery store bakery cupcakes he’d sampled in the past.

As he was rinsing off the cutlery, Y/N saddled up beside him and held out a bright purple envelope, inscribed with “Happy Birthday!” in her pretty longhand. He leaned his hip against the counter as he grasped it, intentionally brushing his hand against hers. Gingerly, he lifted the flap and pulled out the card.

The cardstock was a vibrant gold and white. Two mugs, one green and labeled, “Yours,” one pink and labeled, “Mine” sat on sketched coasters. The shiny purple letters underneath proclaimed, “You get me. I get you.” Pressing his thin lips together, he opened it. And sighed when he read the rest: “Hope you know how happy that makes me.”

One of his wishes had already come true.

The elation coursing through his veins made him shudder. He nearly missed the stiff papers that fell from the envelope. Y/N retrieved them and gently placed them in his palm. A wide smile spread across his cheeks as he read aloud. “‘Gotham Pops presents A Night with Gershwin?’” He double-checked the date. “These are for New Year’s Eve.”

She nodded. “I snagged them as soon as they went on sale. They’re orchestra seats.” Then she squeezed him flush to her side, bumped her nose to his. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you sing to yourself in the tub.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, eyes tracing the diamond pattern of the grey, linoleum floor. “I thought I was quieter.”

“I’m glad you weren’t.” Enthusiastically, her lips pulled at his before she grinned up at him. “Did you have a happy birthday? Was it worth getting older?”

Arthur’s answer came without delay. “Yes.” There wasn’t a way to explain what it meant to him, to explain that she helped him feel good to be alive. How full his heart was. That she patched cracks in his soul he hadn’t known existed. He longed to do the same for her. He cupped her jaw on either side, guiding her to his mouth and rasping, “I don’t mind getting older with you.”

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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sumeshi-t · 5 years ago

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past or present— a haikyuu smau

[oikawa x y/n x atsumu]

a/n: hi !! here we have sum words in between pictures 😔🤘🏻

part 10 > part 11 > part 12A | nav.

you place your phone down on the bedside table, sighing as you watched streaks of sunlight enter through the partially opened blinds.

to be honest, you didn't know what got into your head that made you say those words to atsumu. were you always this impulsive? no, not really. you preferred thinking things through.

perhaps deep inside, you just wanted to find out for yourself what it is that you really feel for the blonde miya, and what he genuinely felt for you too.

it wasn't that you wanted to settle down, or be in a committed relationship anytime soon. it's just that you felt like something was missing in your life even after treating your profession as your spouse. maybe you're just not used to all the flirting anymore. or maybe you were getting old, preferring a more direct approach to trivial matters like this.

trivial... matters? is this really something a person could call trivial?

the early morning thinking made your stomach grumble, prompting you to get off the bed to have breakfast.

'i'll save my appetite for later,' you thought before randomly pulling a bag of bread, then absentmindedly began eating its contents. as soon as you recognize the fluffy texture and creamy taste, a brunette setter flashed through the recesses of your mind.

you look down, noticing that indeed, you were eating milkbread. you faintly remembered how he–oikawa tooru–had once given you a whole month's supply of the food to help in increasing your height. his reasoning was ridiculous, but nonetheless, your dork of an ex was someone you really couldn't resist. 'is that why i was so helpless when we... when he broke up with me?'

just in time, your phone rang, snapping you back into attention. it was atsumu.

"hello?"

"y/n... you weren't kidding when you said you were gonna go here, right?"

that was the first time you heard a hint of hesitation in the usually cool, sure-of-himself, atsumu. the thought made you chuckle. "mhhm, i'll be there a little bit before lunch. what food do you want?"

you hear osamu's voice from a distance saying, "leave that to me,"

"well, you heard him. if you're worried he's gonna stick around later, i'll kick him out."

this makes you gasp, feeling a bit embarrassed of yourself for forgetting to consider his twin, "oh! is he gonna be there later? i... i thought he was gonna go work or... something..." you hiss at the end, slowly regretting your decision.

"yep, he has work don't worry." there was a brief pause and then, as he speaks, you could see it in your head that atsumu was smirking through the receiver; the smirk that seemed to have been embroidered on his handsome face since birth.

"you seem pretty dead set on getting me alone, y/n. why?"

you blush, cheeks heating up with all the blood that suddenly rushed underneath your skin. "b-because! i-it's... it's kind of like a date, right? why, are you two like a package since you're twins?" you berated yourself for stuttering (he was going to tease you for that later, that's for sure). at the same time, you heard something like a pot lid dropping to the floor.

"is... everything okay back there?"

"yeah, samu's fine,"

"...i'm on speaker, aren't i,"

"yep." atsumu pops the last syllable, then proceeds to not put you on speaker anymore. he took an intake of breath, you assumed he was stretching as he asked, "any movies you'd like to watch?"

you sighed, trying to tone down the feeling of embarrassment from the joke you made about the twins, hoping osamu would put it behind him. instead of dwelling on that, you answer atsumu's query, "just nothing too obnoxious, horror is fine, please no porn, cute animated ones are also good, i'm not really that picky with movies." you listed your terms as you get a glass of juice.

atsumu chuckles, snarky comeback ready, "but you do seem picky with the people you date,"

"that, i won't deny."

"and it's a valuable trait to have, right? besides, i think we're both making a good pick here."

you hum for an answer, before taking a quick sip, 'damn it, he's too good at this,' you thought, biting your lip at having been unable to come up with a retort.

atsumu notices that you haven't said anything so, with a soft smile that you couldn't see, he says, "well, i'm not gonna hold you up for long. see you later, y/n."

"osamu just chatted to ask if the food was okay. he's so sweet. i said the food was great. sooo, think you can bring those to training some time?" you say, before shooting a potato chip into your mouth.

you only brought some snacks–basically, junk–for when you two watched movies.

atsumu raises his brow, leaning back comfortably on his side of the sofa. you peep at him when he doesn't respond, then teasingly grins. "atsu, don't tell me: are you jealous i called your brother sweet?"

his ears became a little pink and he aggressively picks the remote up, "why would i be?" he murmurs under his breath. his reaction made you chuckle, before reaching out for his phone. "Ciri, pick a number between one and 20,"

"nice choice, perfectly fitting." atsumu remarks, after putting "50 first dates" on to play.

"right? because this is like our first–no, second–date. unless of course, you forgot about that already."

"i don't have short term memory loss, atsumu."

"no, keep calling me atsu. you're the only one who calls me that." he winks, before digging his hand into the bag of chips atop your lap.

the rest of the movie marathon afternoon was spent by laughing over the same jokes together, you getting emotional at any scene that made you feel emotional, with atsumu making sure to give you tissues and a bowl of ice cream to calm you down.

first, the two of you began the marathon sitting on either end of the sofa, and gradually, things began to get a little chaotic when the both of you became comfortable with each other; such as your feet on atsumu's lap, turning into atsumu sprawled on the floor with his arm on your leg, while you were on the couch, lying on your belly.

to be honest, atsumu spent more time watching you than focusing on the movies on the screen. he could watch them anytime he wanted to, but to observe you up close, and just being around you, your presence just for himself–atsumu felt that it was a once in a lifetime thing, and knew he shouldn't take this moment for granted.

there were more times he's caught himself smiling at you, whether it was when you got scared from a jumpscare (wherein you then laughed at him for flinching, and he ends up defending himself that it was your screaming that shocked him); or when you couldn't control the outburst if your loud laugh and snorting.

'i wish time would stop.' atsumu thinks. 'from here on out, what will become of us?'

sure he seems confident on the outside, but the truth is, this pro athlete is not much of a pro when it comes to dating. he's never really been interested in the prospect of romance, probably because he was surrounded by those who squeal in joy at the sight of him, and getting one would have probably come in easy for him. he even remembers calling his female fans as pigs (even though they were kinda cute–but they were ruining his game! well fuck, that doesn't matter now)

but you? oh y/n, he never said he didn't like a challenge.

now... should he be more direct than he already was? he was sure that he wanted you for himself, but... 'does y/n even want me that way? does she want... anything like that with me?'

it was suddenly quiet, as he immersed himself into his thoughts, losing track of which movie it was you were watching. atsumu took a quick glance at you, only to see that you were fast asleep, head on the edge of the seat. somehow you two ended up switching places, you on the floor and him on the couch.

all his previous thoughts were gone, your peaceful face giving him... peace.

his gentle fingers nimbly brushed a few strands of your hair out of your face. he inches his face closer, his lips just a few inches from your forehead, before you stirred in your sleep.

atsumu gave you one last look before pulling himself away. he smiles to himself, eyes intent on you.

then, he finally notices your horrible position on the floor, which was sure to give you either a back ache or a stiff neck if he was just going to let you be. atsumu sighs, shaking his head.

an idea pops into the blonde setter's mind, causing him to smirk. quickly, he reaches for his phone that was on the couch, swiped open the camera, before looking for a cute angle of yours and grinned at successfully taking a photo of you sleeping soundly without waking you up.

satisfied with his little victory, atsumu finally bends down, carefully wraps his strong arms around your form, and carries you to his shared bedroom. atsumu lays you down on his messy bed (because, he wasn't being possessive, it's just that there was no way he was going to let you end up on his twin's bed).

he took his brother's neat bed, and just let you sleep, toss and turn, while he would toss a ball while lying down. when he grew tired of doing so, and you had your back turned to him, atsumu just pulled his phone out once more and checked the photo he took.

atsumu gently smiles, "i'm so stupid... there's no need for us to rush, am i right y/n?" he murmurs softly, knowing you wouldn't be able to hear him anyway.

for now, he was just going to take his sweet time.

taglist: @tamcitrus @nerdyphantomlady @haikyuuincorrect @aurorahoneybuns @zoppzoop @takingyouruwus @jesquisser @blushinggray

#haikyuu #haikyuu smau #oikawa tooru x reader x atsumu miya #oikawa tooru #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #kuroo tetsurou #kenma kozume #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji

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sixqueendom · 5 years ago

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New Fanfic: If Only You Would Listen, Chapter 4

So, after having a few requests to, I’ve decided to post my new fic on here as well as AO3. If you would prefer to read on AO3, I have included the link below! No real warnings for this one. Just the usual angst I'm sure you've grown accustomed to with my fics if you’ve read any of my previous work!

A huge thank you to Phoebe (@theatergirl06), Lilac (@timetoriseabove) and Blue (@pen-and-a-microphone) for beta-reading this fic! You guys are the best! An extra special thank you to Blue (@pen-and-a-microphone) for your support, thoroughness and help with this fic! Without you, my grammar would be tragic and i’d never be able to conjure the right words I want to say! I hope you all enjoy this final chapter! AO3 ------------------

There was a deep sense of nervous anticipation the following morning as, one by one, the Queens came downstairs for breakfast. Jane, as always, was the first to rise. She couldn’t resist peeking into Kitty’s bedroom with baited breath, before her shoulders slumped as her eyes fell onto the neatly made bed. But she clung onto the tiny shred of hope she had left, as she padded downstairs to the kitchen, only for her heart to sink at the sight of the vacant space. Despite this, she soldiered on and prepared breakfast, determined to maintain the usual routine for the others’ sake. The smell of sweet pancakes and toast must have sparked some optimism, as a disheveled Cathy sleepily trudged in next, her eyes hopeful, her hair hastily tied up into a messy bun. But, seeing the room empty besides Jane, her face fell as she slid into a chair at the table. Even Catherine, who always waltzed in breezily each morning, fresh-faced and bright, couldn’t conceal her bitter disappointment, the smile slipping from her lips as she poured herself some tea.

Finally, a familiar thump at the bottom of the stairs announced Anne’s unceremonious arrival. The reality hit her hardest, her hopes of Kitty having returned home dashed as she froze in the doorway. The others watched as her head dipped in an effort to hide her quivering lip, her hands clenched into fists by her sides as she tried to fight her anguish. Jane slowly lifted herself from her place at the table, casting her a sympathetic look.

“Come on, love,” she said, softly, wrapping her arm gently around the girl and guiding her to the seat between herself and Cathy.

As Anne buried her face in her hands to quietly cry, Cathy abandoned her toast and pulled her closer, resting her head on the younger woman’s shoulder for comfort. Despite the glorious sunshine outside, the solemn mood cast a shadow over the room. Breakfast in the house was usually quite predictable in nature, with each of the women having their preferred times of rising from bed. It was always buzzing with discussion - the exchanging of plans for the day ahead, bubbly laughter in the air from Anne or Kitty - the soundtrack to their everyday life.

But today, there was simply silence.

The playful skip of an entrance from Kitty, the flash of pink hair, was missing. There was no giggling as she was teased by Anne, no light-hearted roll of the eyes from Cathy when she realised they’d swiped the jar of Nutella, no general banter exchanged as Anna finally made an appearance, barging in to help herself to a slice of toast. Instead, the whole routine was stiff, subdued. Once Anna finally arrived, there was no loud proclamation; the German sank into the nearest seat without a sound, propping her head up with one arm. Catherine made a half-hearted attempt at normality as she flicked distractedly through the pages of her magazine in a futile effort to divert her attention away from the empty chair beside her. The gaping hole where Kitty should be.

Finally, Cathy stood wearily, fighting against the heavy feeling that almost overcame her. She made a quick call to their agent to cancel the interview scheduled for later that morning, fabricating a lie about a stomach bug amongst the Queens, before retreating to her bedroom. Jane began to stack the dishes up to wash, Catherine quick to volunteer her help, feeling the need to keep herself occupied. That left Anna and Anne exchanging despondent looks across the table, silently admitting they should probably be going to do something. After a small staring match, it was Anna who finally stood to leave, deciding to move to the lounge to binge-watch TV. Then Anne was alone, her head resting on the table. She had no motivation to move, not without the insistent tug of her cousin to lift her from the table and lead her upstairs. Her legs felt like they were made of lead, her head foggy. She wanted nothing more than to lie there all day. After all, what was the point of doing anything if Kitty wasn’t there?

Catherine finally broke the silence, turning to face Anne, desperate to try and instill some hope back into the younger woman.

“Maybe she’ll turn up for the show this afternoon.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a statement.

Anne tilted her head, her eyes still red-rimmed and puffy from her earlier tears. Oh, how she hoped Catherine was right. But she still couldn’t shove away the thought that Kitty’s decision had been final; that her patience had run thin, and they had driven her away for good. After all, she didn’t owe them anything, and she certainly had no obligation to turn up for the show today. They would have to call the theatre and arrange for her understudy to be brought in. But even the thought of performing without Kitty there made her heart ache. How could they possibly be expected to continue without her?

Shaking her head, Anne gave a sigh and silently left the room.

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

Meanwhile, at the hotel, Kitty had come to the conclusion that her current situation was unsustainable. She couldn’t just stay in a hotel forever, especially not with limited funds. She had no way to support herself, to eat, or to keep safe. And she was getting so lonely.

She needed her Queens.

But, did they need her? After all, they had been the ones to shun her, push her further away. Picking at her breakfast, Kitty mulled over her options. Part of her felt pulled back to them, like a lifeboat back to shore, to the security of a home and the people that she knew and loved. Everyone deserves a second chance, right? But then, there was also the unrelenting fear that she had irrevocably changed the home dynamics and her relationships with the other Queens. Could things between them ever really go back to the way they were before? When Kitty seriously thought about it, the obvious answer was no. After all, the “normal” she now longed for had also resulted in the dispute and resulting rift. Back in that “normal”, she had felt childish and insignificant. Yet, there had unquestionably been aspects of that familiarity that she’d loved. What she would give now to have a spontaneous, carefree dance off with Anna and Anne in their dressing room, inevitably getting glitter everywhere as they giggled. To have that delicious sweet smell of Jane’s baking floating upstairs on a warm, sunny afternoon, which would bring them all outside to sit on the patio and laugh over lemonade and cakes, the sun shining on their faces. She had felt part of the group then.

Then, there was the other part of her, telling her to persevere; she’d made her choice, now it was up to them to deal with the consequences. After all, she’d had no say in being reincarnated in the first place, so what was there to say that she was meant to stay with the other five wives who had also been mistreated and subsequently united by a mutual ex-husband. Maybe she was destined for greater things that didn’t involve them?

But again, surely there had been some purpose for them being reincarnated together? Surely that had to mean something?

There was also the issue of the show, which she had signed a contract for. She owed it to them to turn up...didn’t she? No, wait, she didn’t owe them anything! Not after the way they treated her! But then, there was the problem of her contract; if she bailed out with no notice, what would happen then? Her reputation would undoubtedly be tarnished.

Kitty groaned, her head throbbing as her inner thoughts conflicted. She felt free, yet lost , independent, yet painfully lonely. Why couldn’t someone just tell her what was for the best? What path was right for her? This had all happened so fast; she was having to readily make choices most people would have days, if not months, to consider, prior to coming to a decision.

She pulled out the photo once more.

So, what’s it to be, Kitty? Are you ready to go home, or are you ready to leave them behind?

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

Having consulted with Jane after Anne had left the room, Catherine decided they should hold off on another search in the morning and, instead, suggest to the others that they go to the theatre as normal. Despite lying to their agent to get out of the interview, it was still plausible that the fictional illness could have subsided in time for an afternoon show. The feedback from the others had mostly been positive; Cathy and Anna seemed hopeful that Kitty might be pulled back to perform. Anne, however, was in denial, finding it impossible to shake the feeling that Kitty’s actions had been final, that she wasn’t coming back. So, with that, the Queens arrived early for their afternoon performance. They tried to stick to their usual pre-show routines, but the atmosphere was quieter than normal, muted. There was no lively chatter or banter between them, no music spilling out from Anna’s portable speaker, which, on most days, would be enough to prompt a spell of singing.

The silence was the first thing Kitty noticed as she let herself into the stage door. As she walked down the narrow corridor, approaching the adjoining two dressing rooms, her heart was pounding in her ears. She clamped her eyes shut as she took a deep breath, doubt still gnawing away at her. She prayed that she was doing the right thing, that she would not live to regret this.

When she peered around the corner into the dressing room she shared with Anne and Cathy, she was stunned to see how solemn and quiet they were, just going through the motions without uttering a word. Kitty felt her heart wrench. Was this about her? Did they really miss her? It was Anne who looked up first, the familiar flash of pink, catching the corner of her eye. Her mouth fell open, her eyes already glistening with tears as she launched herself from her seat, throwing her arms around Kitty in relief, the force almost knocking the wind right out of her. Cathy whirled around, her eyes wide, before breaking into a smile. Kitty could barely breathe, Anne was squeezing her so tightly, but she didn’t argue. If anything, it only confirmed one thing: this was where she was meant to be. Burying her head into her cousin’s shoulder, she too began to cry.

After a moment, Kitty pulled away, wiping her eyes.

“There’s something I need to do,” she said with conviction, before moving next door.

She ignored Catherine and Anna gawping in bewilderment as she entered, not hesitating to walk up to Jane and wrap her in a hug, causing her to gasp in surprise.

“Oh, Kitty, darling!” she breathed, returning the hug with the same intensity, the tears coming quick.

“I’m sorry,” Kitty sobbed into her shoulder, relishing in finally having the feeling of Jane’s comforting arms around her once more. It filled her with love: this was home.

“No,” Jane shook her head, pulling back and brushing a tendril of hair from Kitty’s eyes. “It’s me who should be sorry. I’ve been too scared to acknowledge that you’re not a girl anymore, that you’re an adult and you should be treated like one.” Jane paused to compose herself, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “I’ve been so consumed in trying to replicate what I could have had, instead of accepting that’s all in the past now. I’m not your mother, after all, although sometimes I wish I was. I bet you’re thankful I’m not.” Jane chuckled jokingly, which in turn made Kitty smile through her own tears.

“But that’s just the thing,” Kitty sniffed, bowing her head. “I love nothing more than your hugs, your baking...and I do sometimes wish you were my mum but…” Kitty hesitated, biting her lip as she considered her words carefully. “I...suppose I just want more space? More, um, freedom?”

Jane nodded in agreement, a smile still on her face.

“Maybe we can compromise? I won’t nag at you for what time you’ll be home if I still get to fuss over you, on special occasions?”

Kitty laughed.

By this time, all of the Queens had congregated in the room, all surprised and relieved in equal measure.

“We all owe you an apology too,” Cathy admitted, standing tall.

“We never meant to ever make you feel insecure, or that your words were less valued than anyone else’s. You’re every bit a part of this family as anyone else,” Catherine said, wrapping her in a brief hug, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze as she moved back. “And, I’m sorry. For being so harsh on you.”

Anna stepped forward, wringing her hands. “We really missed you. I want you to know that I’d never, ever wish you weren’t here. You’re a vital part of our slightly dysfunctional family.” The comment prompted several chuckles. “What i meant to say is...I’m so sorry, Kit. I never wanted to drive you away.”

Kitty pulled the German close.

It left only Anne, who stood rather forlornly in the middle of the room, distractedly picking at her fingernails. After a moment, her gaze lifted to meet Kitty’s eyes.

“I think I probably owe you the biggest apology,” she mumbled, ashamedly. “It was my idea to stop discussing certain things in front of you. I just...wanted to protect you, not realising that you are more than capable of holding your own. I didn’t mean for it to go this far, for you to feel like you weren’t a part of us, like we were talking behind your back all the time. I would never have suggested it in the first place if I’d known how much that would hurt you.”

Kitty tilted her head in sadness, watching as Anne began to crumple in front of her, shame bringing yet more tears to her cousin’s eyes.

“Oh, Annie…”

She hurried over to envelop her in a reassuring hug.

“I know you were all just looking out for me. I don’t blame you for suggesting it either. I mean...we all don’t like talking about our past sometimes.” She nuzzled her face into Anne’s shoulder. “I know you were just trying to stop me getting hurt.”

Feeling a heavy weight being lifted off of her shoulders, Anne sunk further into Kitty’s hug, a smile breaking out on her face. “Beheaded cousins...right?”

Kitty grinned, pulling away and giving her hand a gentle squeeze, with a wink. “Right.”

It was like the entire room breathed a sigh of relief, the air finally clearing. But Kitty wasn’t finished. She looked around at all of the Queens.

“I want you all to know I’m sorry, too. I should never have run away like that, leaving you all worried.” She gazed purposefully at Catherine. “You were right, I should have taken a more mature approach to my problems. I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that and said what I did. I was just feeling so...lost. Like I wasn’t that important because I wasn’t included in all your conversations. I just wanted the chance to speak up, to feel more included, not left to feel like I was just like a little kid who was incapable of making their own decisions. Some of the topics that come up, sure, they’ll be hard. But I can handle them now. And, if I’m not having such a good day, or I feel like something might get upsetting, I’ll just walk away.”

The Queens listened intently, giving Kitty their undivided attention. It was the first time in a while that they had all listened to what she had to say, and they knew, now more than ever, how important it was. As Kitty continued, they made motions of encouragement

“Whilst I was away, I realised that I really needed you all. I missed every single one of you.” As she spoke, she turned to each Queen in turn.

“Jane, believe it or not I missed your comfort, your hugs. I just wanted you to tell me that everything was going to be okay.”

She held out her hand, pulling the older woman close to her.

“Cathy, when I couldn’t sleep I wished so desperately that I could sneak into your room and just talk, about everything and anything.” The writer gave her a warm smile, a glint in her eye. They would do that again soon.

“Anna, I missed your jokes; you always know how to make me laugh and cheer me up when I’m down.” The German was quick to ruffle her hair at the comment, pulling her closer to give her a squeeze.

“Catherine, I actually love getting to spend some mornings with you and you do give the best fashion advice.“ Kitty watched as the older woman’s face lit up, genuinely touched by the words. When Catherine didn’t move, Kitty beckoned her over to join the rest of the group.

Finally, Kitty turned to her cousin. “And Anne, well...who would I cause trouble with if it wasn’t with you?

At that, Anne practically flung herself forwards, and the youngest girl was suffocated in the tightest group hug she had ever felt. With the final piece of the puzzle in place, she felt like she could finally breathe again.

They were interrupted by the half an hour call over the tannoy.

At that, Anne scurried off, before quickly re-appearing with Kitty’s costume in hand, a huge smirk on her face.

“So, what do you say, Kit? Ready to be a Queen again?”

#six fanfiction

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anxiouslymalicious · 6 years ago

Text

Until I can trust you.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x reader

Summary: A continuation of Until we know in which Ben and the reader finally talk

Word Count: 2,354

Warnings: None that I can think of. Maybe swearing and mentions of sex and alcohol.

A/N: Okay so this might be a little lame, but I think it is kind of important to the upcoming chapters. Anyway, the next chapter is already in writing (it’s literally 1k words so far)

Tagging: @mamaskillerqueen @yourealegendroger @lakef @mcrmarvelloki @oh-well1 Message me if you want to be tagged in any future chapters!

After that little speech Ben dropped, you went back to your room to get dressed into something more comfortable. You had packed your favourite jeans and an oversized shirt you bought at a concert once. You quickly brushed your teeth, washed the remainder of your make up off your face and tried to fix your hair, then went out to meet Ben for breakfast. He was visibly nervous, straining himself to act only friendly around you. Silently, you two made your way to the dining room where Lucy, Rami, Joe, Gwil and his wife along with some of their family members were seated in a special room, reserved for the wedding guests.

“Morning.”, you said as you said down on the free chair next to Lucy. Everyone’s eyes visibly widened as Ben sat down next to you. It wasn’t long until Lucy noticed a hickey on your lower neck, one that you hadn’t seen as you covered all the other hickeys with make up that morning. She smirked at you, pulling you out of your seat with the excuse of helping you settle on what to have. Lucy pushed you away from the table, leading you to the buffet.

“What happened last night?”, she asked teasingly as you eagerly grabbed a plate and filled it with whatever your stomach longed for.

“Nothing. Had a good talk with my toilet.”, you told her, avoiding eye contact as you kept filling your plate.

“Seems like you had a good talk with someone else, too. And I think I know who the lucky one was.”, Lucy replied, not believing a word you said. Instead, her gaze wandered to where Ben was vividly talking to Roger and Brian. Both had attended the wedding, but you hadn’t felt the need to talk to them. You had only met them a handful of times, but they were always rather busy, so you never exchanged more than friendly Smalltalk with them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, you mumbled after you followed her gaze for a second. You felt your cheeks heating up, but you didn’t give up on playing it down. Neither you nor Ben knew what was going on between you two, so trying to explain this mess to someone else would prove to be even harder. Sadly, though, you were not an actress like her or Ben, so all of this proved to be quite difficult.

“Y/N, please stop pretending. There are hickeys on Ben’s neck, there are hickeys on yours and you two walked down here together. Now that we’re talking about this, I don’t recall seeing you or Ben anymore after Rami and I danced for a bit.”, Lucy smirked at you and finally took a plate of her own, filling it with a few sweet items.

“Okay. We might have hooked up, but we don’t know what to do next. Because I can’t just pretend the last few months didn’t happen, but I can’t just ignore my feelings either. I’ll tell you what’s going on once Ben and I have talked about it, I promise, but please let’s just have breakfast and focus on Gwil. Please.”, you told her, and Lucy nodded understandingly before you two made your way back to the table. You smiled as you sat back down next to Ben and started devouring your meal. It wasn’t every day that you got to eat as much as you could without having to clean up or cook yourself, so you were sure to make the best out of it.

Your mood, however, wasn’t the same anymore after your little chat with Lucy. You knew she only meant well, but it really did put a damper on your mood to not know what was going on between you two and to know that you would have to have a serious talk after this. Adding to that was the fact that you felt as though everyone’s eyes were resting on you and only you. Everyone who sat at the table was engaged in conversation, but it still felt like you were the centre of attention.

And you did not like that.

Hurriedly, you finished your breakfast without speaking much. Only replying when you were asked something with as little words as possible and then again when you told everyone at the table that you were about to go back to your room to pack, wished them a good day and told them to get home safely. You thanked Gwil and his now wife for the invite once more and told them to enjoy their upcoming honeymoon before you made your way back.

‘Hey love, are you alright? Do you want to go to your home first and then come over to talk or are you driving to mine first?’, said a text Ben had sent only seconds after you stepped into your room.

‘I’m going to bring my stuff to my flat, make sure that it hasn’t burned down yet and then I’ll come over. I can be over at yours around 3.’, you texted back. Suddenly, the world felt heavy on your shoulders.

‘Sounds good to me. Drive safely, see you then.’

You sighed. You didn’t have much work to do, all you did was throw your heels and dress into your bag, along with your toiletries, before checking once more that you had everything, then proceeded to check out and drive off. It was around noon when you left.

The drive seemed endless. You dreaded getting home because it meant getting one step closer to talking with Ben about your situation, which was destined to be awkward. Throughout the whole drive, you felt like you were trapped in one of those very aesthetically pleasing but otherwise really stupid road trip scenes in high-school-movies in which the beautiful teenaged daughter has to move with her family and pretends to be super edgy with her music and thinking about how no one gets her. But unlike the girls in those movies, you were driving the car.

You sighed at your own stupid thoughts.

It wasn’t long until you arrived at your flat and you once more felt your heart drop as no one was there to greet you. No one was there to ask how your drive was. No one was there to ask if you had fun. No one was there to cuddle up to you. You were all alone.

During your relatively short stay at home, you did basically nothing. Well, nothing but think. For the most part, you were lost in your thoughts, drowning in emotions. Anxiously, you looked at the clock. It was exactly two minutes later than the last time you looked. With a defeated groan, you stood up and made your way outside. You were early, but your nerves had gotten the better of you and sitting in your lonely flat would only strain your nerves further.

When you arrived at Ben’s flat twenty minutes before you were almost disappointed to see that he was already there. There was this strange fight going on inside you. One part of you was desperate to get it all out while the other really didn’t and preferred to live in the bliss of unawareness.

“Hey.”, Ben said with a smile as he pushed the door open for you. The second you set foot in the flat you once called your home, you heard a very familiar barking. Seconds later, Frankie was excitedly jumping around your feet, continuously trying to jump up your legs and, thus, trying to get closer to you. With the biggest grin, you kneeled on the floor to embrace her. You missed the adorable creature.

“Hey Frankie. How are you? Did you miss me?”, you asked her in one of those extremely sweet voices that you just couldn’t control.

“She did. Was constantly whining at the door. Always looking for you, waiting for you.”, Ben replied for his dog, watching the scene lovingly. He had missed this. Everything just felt right. But Ben was as aware as you were that this was only the calm before the storm.

Your heart ached a little. Frankie and you had been rather close before you left. You always enjoyed her presence, the little furball was always so full of energy, yet she never refused a nice long round of cuddles on the couch.

Finally, you looked up at him.

Ben’s hair was wet. It looked like he had just come out of the shower. He had lazily thrown on a shirt and some sweatpants. His eyes still looked a little bloodshot and he was nervously gnawing on his lower lip.

“You want something to drink?”, Ben now asked, nodding towards the kitchen.

“How about we get some tea and talk?”, you asked in reply to which Ben nodded. Both of you walked towards the open kitchen, Frankie in tow, and you set down at the table while Ben turned on the kettle before taking out two cups. The silence between you two was deafening as Ben prepared your tea. Your fingernails were suddenly quite interesting.

Ben watched you intently. You were fidgety, trying to avoid any kind of eye-contact for as long as possible. Ben didn’t really feel much different about the situation, though. He was trying to busy himself with anything that met his eye. Whether it was refilling Frankie’s water bowl or giving her treats as he waited for the water to boil.

When Ben placed both cups, you knew the time had come to talk.

“So…”, Ben said quietly.

“So…”, you replied. A pregnant pause ensued.

“How about we start with talking about how we feel?”, Ben asked, looking up at you, trying to meet your eyes.

“Okay. Uhm… Where do I start?”, you felt awkward, took a breath and then got started.

“Ben, I still feel a lot for you. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t miss you at all and tried to tell you that I was just able to keep going after our relationship ended. I was a mess. A huge mess. I was hurt and- and I felt insecure and unlovable and like I wasn’t worth shit. Especially after you broke your promises again. I still feel that way. And if I’m being honest, what we did last night wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t drunk. I don’t regret it, I just…” You sighed.

“I need you to know that this can’t be fixed with a simple one-night stand.”, you couldn’t stop the word flow once it started, trying to get out everything at once. All those words and emotions had been bottled up inside you for far too long and needed to get out.

Ben moved his hand, wanting to place it on yours in a calming manner, but deciding against it.

“I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.” Ben hid his face in his hands. “I never wanted this. I was stupid, so stupid. I love you so much. Always will. You are one of the most important people in my life.”, he replied, and his voice was already shaky. Frankie barked almost like she was asking if he forgot about her.

“No one’s more important than you, Frankie.”, you told the dog and held your hand out for her to nuzzle her head into. She obliged happily. Ben chuckled lightly.

“You are so loveable, Y/N. That’s what scared me. I was scared that you would find someone better while I was gone for filming. Someone who doesn’t leave you behind for months for a new project. Someone you can come home to every night and- and have that picture-perfect life you deserve. And last night when we talked and kissed and had sex, everything felt so perfect. Like I was whole again. And I know that none of my actions can be forgotten because of one night, but I’m willing to be a better person. For you. If you will let me. Of course, I’d understand if you didn’t want to get back together. Been a proper dick to you.”, Ben finished, his eyes big with hopes. His whole body was leaning forward, leaning towards you. You had to lean back a bit in your chair.

“Ben, I appreciate the fact that you are willing to try, but I am not sure if I can still trust you. I’m torn between my heart and my brain. My heart tells me to come back to you because I miss you and Frankie dearly, nothing feels like home. Nothing except you two. But my brain tells me to think rationally. I’ve given you a second chance and you fucked it up. I’m scared of being hurt again. I don’t think I could take it.”, you started sobbing now. It pained you to say that, but you couldn’t risk being that hurt again. Ben nodded as tears ran down his face.

Neither of you said anything for a bit. Sniffling and sobbing echoed through the otherwise quiet place. Not even Frankie dared to make a sound, instead looking up at you two with those huge beautiful eyes. She had placed herself in a corner of the room, watching you two.

“How about,” Ben started, sniffling lightly as he tried to get his breathing and tears back under control, “How about we try to be friends?”

“You want to forget about last night?”, you asked in a watery voice, wiping your face with your own hands. Ben shook his head eagerly.

“No, no! Not at all. I thought we could try to be friends until you can trust me again. Until you feel like I deserve you again.”, Ben reluctantly placed his hand on yours on the table. His eyes were searching for eye-contact and, as they found yours, looked at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

You took a deep breath.

“That sounds wonderful. I’d like that a lot. Let’s be nothing more than friends until I can trust you.”, you smiled a little.

And a greatly appreciated, very ordinary afternoon was what followed.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy one shot #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader fluff #borhap imagine #borhap x reader #borhap cast x reader #lucy boynton x reader #queen x reader #margit writes #until

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doubledeaky · 6 years ago

Text

Mellow

John Deacon x Female!Reader

Request: “Hiya! Could I request something like Man In The Mirror, but no smut? Like, instead of the (totally amazingly written btw) smut, just cuddles and crying and reassurance? Fluff and angsty? You can do it with Joe or who ever you like! Tysm. I love your writing!”

A/N: Hi, everyone! I’m finally feeling like myself again so I thought I’d treat you all to a John fic! The next update of the Brian fic should be out very soon! Hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is very much requested! Much love! -m:)

Summary: Sometimes a shoulder to cry on is exactly what the doctor ordered. Lucky for you, John is always there to fill that prescription.

Word Count: 1,424 words (short but sweet)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, crying, angst and major fluff

mellow

adjective | mel•low | ‘melō

1. pleasantly smooth or soft, free from harshness

“Are you sure you’re alright, love?” Freddie spoke worriedly into the south end of his landline, the cord wrapped around his black-painted finger.

“Yes, Fred. I’m fine.” You grinned sadly, your cheek pressed against the body of your own phone. Your voice sounded unsure and skeptical despite your best efforts to assume believability. Fred narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a tight line. You could feel his attitude towards the situation through the phone, he didn’t have to say anything.

“Talk to John about it when he gets home.” He said with a particular finality, as if there was no room for further discussion of the topic. You rolled your eyes and shifted your weight to your left hip.

“Freddie- “

“Doctor’s orders.” He said in a singsong manner before hanging up without a formal farewell. You huffed, returning your home phone to its receiver and plopping down onto the couch. You surveyed the events of the last hour and shivered recollecting what had occurred. You’d called Freddie in tears, indulging him of the recent issues you’d been attempting to cope with. The stress of your new job, the constant prying eyes of the press, and the overall pressures of adult life we’re taking their toll. The weight of reality had hit you all at once and it stole the air from your lungs.

***

Freddie answered, never missing the opportunity to waste time chatting over the phone and was confused when met with your ragged breathing and broken sobs. He was close to slamming the phone back onto the receiver until your soft voice sounded from the other end of the line.

“Freddie...”

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” He questioned, suddenly concerned, clutching the material of his shirt with a nervous fervor.

“Everything.” You croaked out, feeling defeated, gripping the material of your blue jeans in an attempt to ground yourself.

“I have time.” He said softly, settling into the cushions of the chair he occupied. You chuckled bitterly, trying to organise your thoughts in a way that made logical sense and spilled your guts. Freddie wondered the entire time why you refused to tell John of your struggles. “That’s what boyfriends are for,” he said in an attempt to compel you to speak to John. Yet, you hesitated to agree every time he brought up the proposition.

***

Now you were sat alone, frustrated because you knew he was right - he always was. You needed to tell John, or it would eat at you until you were reduced to a puddle on the floor once again. You couldn’t decipher the particular fear that accompanied the idea of talking to John about your current state of mind. Maybe it was a fear of judgement. Maybe it was easier, in your mind, to put on a happy face and create a facade to hide the pain you felt. Whatever it was, it had an uneasy sense of panic settling in your stomach and you had to take a deep breath to calm it. You made the difficult decision to tell John, to tell him and ignore any inhibitions that would have stopped you in any previous scenarios. It would be tough, but it was John, your John.

***

You paced the length of your living room, trying to place your rabid thoughts in order. Your fingers were numb and scanning the lengths of your upper arms, their touch leaving a trail of sizzling shocks in their wake. You scoffed, completely embarrassed by your behavior. Why was this so hard?

You bit nervously at the skin of your lower lip, dreading the familiar sound of John’s house key jangling against the wood of the front door. When it did come mere nanoseconds after you’d flopped onto the couch, you were sat bolt upright, wiping away stray tears and falling into your bad habit of putting on a pretty face. You tried to appear nonchalant with a pleasant expression masking your features and a magazine in hand when John walked into the den, arms already open to invite you into his warm embrace. You smiled fondly and stood to slot yourself against him, your arms encircling his narrow waist. He wrapped his strong arms around you, burying his smiling face in the crook of your neck. The sweet exchange made all preoccupations escape your worried mind, but only for a moment. You leaned back to look at him and his expression faltered minutely when he noticed you red, glossy eyes. He ran a calloused thumb over the peak of your cheekbone, his brows furrowing in worry.

“Have you been crying?” He asks, holding you at arms length to examine your rather disheveled appearance. You shook your head, fear taking your gut, but you remained stoic.

“No, love. Just allergies.” Your heart clenched, you’d already broken the promise you’d made to yourself and Freddie. Your eyes seemed to water of their own accord and as you made brief eye contact with John, he seemed unconvinced. He quirked a brow and brought you closer to him, his grey eyes searching for any sign of dishonesty. You trembled in his hold and he frowned, wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. He cocked his head to the side and for an isolated moment, his own eyes glazed over. You broke, crumbling into his embrace. He shook his head “no” and held your head to his chest, rocking the both of your softly. He attempted to soothe you, running a gentle hand over your upper back. John could feel your lungs rattling with each of your choked sobs and his own eyes wet involuntarily.

“Hey...” He whispered, voice fractured with such an overwhelming concern for your feelings it has every muscle in your legs twitching. His hands come up to cradle your jaw, both thumbs caressing your cheekbones, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your lips are trembling pathetically, and your eyes are red-rimmed, pupils dilated and afraid.

“Talk to me.” He says softly, collecting himself quickly for your sake. Your heart adopts a dull ache and it’s hammering violently in your chest. You sigh unevenly, hands still gripping the material of his shirt. He’s listening intently, hanging on to every micro movement of your face, every sound that falls from your bitten lips.

“I have so much to say but, now I’m drawing a blank. I can’t get it out.” You say, softly, feeling defeated and frankly, exhausted.

“Then just lay with me. Not being able to say what’s on your mind doesn’t mean there isn’t anything there.” He says, poking a finger to your temple jokingly, drawing a breathy giggle from your sore lungs. He seems pleased, satisfied he was able to steal a laugh from you. He leads you to the couch, laying your head to his chest softly. One hand is rubbing gentle circles over your lower back, the other is gripping the hand you have laid across his chest.

“You’ll get there.” He says with a particular fondness, the tone he uses when talking with children or animals and often you. It’s not condescending or patronizing, its soft and sweet. It gives you a sense of safety like no other and reminds you that when your walls crumble, his will surround you and bathe you in an ethereal glow of love. It’s reminiscent of basking in the yellow wash of the afternoon sun or wading in the smooth, cobalt silk of the ocean. It’s free of impurity, completely incorrupt. It’s heavenly and you could dwell within it forever.

Your eyes are fluttering shut with a fawn-like grace, your delicate eyelashes tickling the skin of John’s chest. He grins, goofy and love struck, in complete and utter bliss. He can’t believe you’re his.

“I love you.” He says into the crown of your head, content in his current state of being whether or not you return the sentiment. But you do; muttering the words softly with your last bit of energy before falling into a deep state of sleep. His arms feel weak as they continue to encircle you in a warm embrace. He’s absolutely beaming, completely over the moon and maybe even the sun. A fuzzy sense of gratitude floods his chest and he feels lucky, completely satisfied in the position he occupies and soon he’s following you into a similar state of sleep. The old plaid couch becomes a bed for the pair of you that night but that’s okay, as long you’re both sharing it with only one another.

#john deacon #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon x you #queen #queen band #queen imagines #roger taylor #brian may #freddie mercury #joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader

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idontknowwhatimdoing-3-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Take a Break

On a quite sunny Sunday morning in July, Lena Luthor slowly stirred awake, she shifted to her side hoping, but knowing already that the other half of her bed would be void of her favourite blonde. Her girlfriend, Kara Danvers, had to leave at an absurd hour in the morning to help one of their friends with their farmland. The owner of the land had gotten an arm injury which hindered his movement and productivity and being the friendly and helpful person Kara was she volunteered to help out.

While Lena admired Kara’s tenacity to be helpful, she missed her girlfriend. The weekends were their time were they could ignore work and just spend time with one another. However, for the past month and a half, Kara had left before the sun had even risen and returned well after dark, coming home with just enough energy to shower, eat and crash instantly. As far as Lena was concerned, it had been too long since she and Kara had any time to themselves. The longer she lay in bed the more she hoped that Kara would appear in their bed, which made her want to see her even more.

What if I surprise her with lunch today, Lena thought to herself, and maybe I can steal her away for a bit. It sounded like a good idea considering Kara was always hungry and she probably skipped on a filling breakfast. Lena jumped out of bed and began putting her fun little plan together with lunch and some sweet treats.

Lena climbed into the shower with a head full of ideas, longing, anticipation and extremely dirty thoughts. She took the time to shave and make her body soft and silky smooth. As she soaped her body, she ran her hands over her hardened nipples which sent shocks down to her clit, letting out a soft moan as the touch. By the time she got out of the shower and dried off her pussy was throbbing and wet again.

Going into her closet she, Lena picked a dark green sundress that clung to each of her curves in all the right ways and brought out the green in her eyes. It also happened to be Kara’s favourite dress on her, as it allowed Lena to forgo the need for a bra. Checking herself out in the mirror she saw that the dress complemented both her pale skin and raven hair, while also looking innocent and sexy.

Next, Lena found a basket and a blanket large enough for both of them to sit on while they ate. In the basket she packed chips, iced tea, sandwiches, strawberries and whipped cream. With everything ready she set out to set her plan in motion. She hopped in her car and headed towards the farm.

By the time she got to the field it was almost one in the afternoon. The farm was huge and spammed hundreds of acres of land, she had no idea how to find Kara. Luckily, Kara’s friend James, the owner of the farm, came walking out of the barn house towards her car.

“Hey there, stranger” he called out to her as he walked towards her.

“James, perfect timing. Do you know where I might find my girlfriend?”

“I do. Want me to take you to her?”

“Sure! I’ve brought her a picnic. You don’t mind if I steal her away from her job for a little bit, do you?”

As he got closer, he and eyed her up and down he had a feeling that Lena had more than a picnic planned. Laughing lightly, he replied, “I don’t mind at all she could use a break from riding that tractor all day anyways. Hop in the truck and ill take you to her”

Lena smiled to herself as she climbed into James truck and they rode in friendly silence as they rode to the field Kara was working on. When they got to the field, Kara was driving a tractor across the land, she stopped once she spotted James truck. Lena thanked James, grabbing her basket, got out of the truck and made her way over to where Kara’s tractor was stopped. As Kara got out of the tractor Lena was able to get a view of what Kara was dressed in, a flannel button down shirt with cut off sleeves that showed off her muscular arms and jean shorts that displayed her toned legs.

“Lee, what’re you doing here? Is everything okay?”, Kara asked before she took in the sight of her girlfriend in the dress running over to her with a basket in hand. Kara’s blue eyes darkened a little with eyes full of lust and longing. That look made Lena even more wet.

Lena crashed into Kara without a word and wrapped her arms around Kara’s neck, pulling her down for a deep passionate kiss. Their kiss lasted for several minutes before both had to pull away gasping for air, if Lena was wet before she was soaked now. Satisfied that her girlfriend was suitable speechless, she gave a quick teasing kiss to her under her earlobe, the one spot that always made Kara shudder.

“I thought it’d be nice for us to have lunch together. Your weekends have been so busy that we barely see each other. I wanted to surprise you with a treat and get you off that tractor. James said, you’ve been riding that tractor too long anyways. So, let’s eat baby.”

With that Lena set about spreading the blanket on the ground. While Lena was bent down on her hands and knees, Kara got an amazing view of Lena’s creamy legs that disappeared under a dress that complemented the round shape of her ass. Kara wanted nothing more than to rip off that dress and take Lena right that very moment. She snapped out of her daze when Lena finished setting the blanket down, they spread out their lunch and dug into their sandwiches. Kara immediately went for the strawberries, but Lena smacked her hand away and said they for dessert.

Kara groaned but went back to eating her sandwich and drinking her iced tea. She had to admit, it was a wonderful lunch, what with the sky being a clear blue and her girlfriend beside her, but she was dying to get a taste of those strawberries. Red, ripe and plump, her mouth was watering just at the thought of eating them. Or maybe it was the thought of her beautiful girlfriend laying on the blanket in the middle of an empty field. Her thoughts began to wander as she fantasized about lifting that green dress above Lena’s head and making her cum.

Smirking as she watched Kara get lost in whatever fantasy was playing in her head, Lena seductively motioned for Kara to come rest her head on her lap. Whatever thought was playing in her girlfriend’s minds, Lena had her own plan. As Kara laid down on her lap, Lena picked up a strawberry and slowly licked up and down its bright, sweet flesh. Kara just stared mouth agape as she watched Lena slowly bite into the strawberry and let the sweet juices trickle out of her mouth before she swiped her finger to pick up the drop and slowly inserted her finger into her mouth before leaving with a satisfying pop.

“Want a taste?” Lena asked seductively

Eyes wide, Kara nodded and licked her lips in anticipation. Lena picked up another strawberry and teasingly traced the Kara’s mouth with it. She ran it slowly up and down her top lip and doing the same thing with the bottom lip before allowing Kara to bite into it. Lena repeated the process with several other strawberries before she noticed that Kara’s hand had slipped into her shirt to play with her nipples.

Lena knew that Kara liked it when she gave her orders, “Take off your shirt and lay on your back,” she commanded. Without question Kara did as she was told.

“Now close your eyes. Don’t’ move.” Knowing Kara would listen, she opened the whipped cream and squirted a thin line onto her bare stomach a small gasp escaped Kara’s mouth. Lena loved watching Kara’s skin break out in goosebumps as the cold cream landed on it. Letting it sit for a few seconds, she began licking the cream off Kara’s hard stomach. She passed up and down a few times before using a strawberry to wipe the remaining cream up and then placed it between Kara’s lips, allowing her to taste the sweet fruit.

“How did that taste, baby,” she purred into Kara’s ear.

“Soso good, Lena. Can I have some more?”

“Of course, but now I want you to watch me.”

Kara opened her eyes and met Lena’s eyes, as she watched her slowly kiss down Kara’s body until she got to her shorts and unbuttoned them and slid them down her legs with her panties in tow. Lena began planting kisses all over her stomach and on her thighs. Kara moaned every time Lena got close to her pussy and tried moving her body so that she could get any sort of touch on her cunt, but Lena just pulled away whenever tried grinding into her mouth.

Lena decide to add some more sweetness to the tasting and squirted whipped cream onto Kara’s pussy and licking it up. As she lapped up the whipped cream, her tongue dipped between her lips to lick her clit before returning back to her mound. Kara moaned loudly and excitedly as she finally got what she was aching for, her breath had become shallower at each touch of Lena’s mouth.

Lena’s was overwhelmed by the taste of her girlfriend’s pussy, the saltiness of her skin and the sweetness of whipped cream. She squirted more cream onto Kara’s pussy again, but this time, she ran a strawberry through the cream and up and down Kara’s slit before placing it into her own mouth. The sweetness of the fruit and the juices from her girlfriend exploded onto her tongue, she let out a low moan at the sudden taste. Lena did the same thing with the last strawberry but allowed Kara to taste herself and the fruit. She then began cleaning up the whipped cream that was left on her girlfriend’s pussy.

Her tongue dance down her slit and gently flicked her clit before sucking it into her mouth. Kara was moaning and writhing at all the contact to her pussy, making Lena more than happy to continue to get those wonderful sounds to keep spilling out. She dove into Kara like she was starved, she pushed per tongue as deep as it would go and sucked onto Kara’s clit.

Kara was moaning incoherent words to what sounded like a mix of “Yes” and “Lena” over and over again. Once Lena began sucking her clit and sticking her tongue into her pussy, Kara went over the edge.

“YESSS!!” Kara screamed out as Lena continues sucking her clit.

But Lena was done yet, once Kara’s first orgasm hit, she buried two fingers as deep as they go into Kara’s hot dripping cunt.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you? You love that you’re wide open in the middle of field while I finger that hot pussy of yours, don’t you?”

“YESSS!,” was all Kara could muster to scream out as Lena continued pounding her fingers in and out of her.

Feeling Kara tighten around her fingers, Lena slowed per pace and taunted Kara. She began slowly working one finger in and out of her, while using her thumb to lazily circle her clit.

“Lena please let me cum” Kara begged

“Not yet” Lena replied

Kara groaned out in frustration as she felt her orgasm fad away, when Lena slammed three fingers inside and began rubbing her clit more aggressively.

“OH FUCK!” Kara cried out at the unexpected change in pace.

Lena smiled wickedly as she slowed down again and went back to one finger. She continued the cycle of teasing then relentlessly pounding Kara’s pussy until she was a moaning mess.

“Lena pleasepleaseplease let me cum pleeeeaasse let me cummm” Kara begged.

Lena decided that Kara had enough torture and picked up the pace for the final time, slamming three fingers hard and fast into Kara while also rubbing her clit.

“PLEASE LENA DON”T STOP” Kara cried out.

As Lena continued pounding Kara, with her hand slick of Kara’s juices she pushed two fingers into her ass and three into her pussy.

“YESSSS! I’m gonna cummm” Kara screamed out at the sudden invasion

Lena kept pounding and lowered her face onto Kara’s pussy and sucked her clit into her mouth and that finally sent Kara over the edge. Kara’s orgasm seemed like it would never end, but Lena kept her face buried in Kara’s pussy drinking up all the juices until Kara’s legs stopped shaking. Then Lena crawled up and kissed Kara softly before collapsing next to her girlfriend breathlessly beside her. They lay there side by side to one another catching their breath before Kara suggested it was time to get their clothes back on.

“Hold on” Lena said giggling as she sat up. Kara was content to lie there and look at the raven hair beauty next to her, when suddenly Lena was up and running through the field laughing. Confused, Kara realized she was left with nothing but her shirt as Lena was running off with her shorts and panties.

“Lena! Get back here!”

Lena continued to move farther away, and Kara was forced to follow. It was a sight to behold, one running raven haired in a dress barley staying on and the other a blonde missing most of her clothing. Eventually, Kara caught up to her and tackled her to the ground and pinned her hands above her head as she started tickling her Lena.

“Kara stop!” Lena gasped out between laughs as she squirmed under the tickle attack.

Once Kara stopped ticking Lena, she put her shorts back on and asked “Wanna go for a ride in the tractor?”.

Nodding, Lena agreed, and they went to pick the remnants of their picnic. It was late in the afternoon before Kara climbed back into the tractor and positioned Lena on her knee in the tiny cab. It was a tight fit, but neither minded being close to the other. They rode in blissfully content silence before Lena notice how excited she was getting.

From her position on Kara’s knee, Lena could fell her pussy begin throb. From the humming and the vibrations of the tractor and close proximity to her girlfriend, the one she had just finger fucked in the middle of a field, her body was extremely sensitive. Lena tried to alleviate some of the tension by subtly grinding her pussy on Kara’s leg, but that left her wanting more. When the tractor hit a slight bump, Lena felt her dress shift enough to leave a bare leg against Lena’s bare ass.

It won’t be long before she feels how wet I am, she thought to herself. Kara noticed the wetness instantly, but said nothing instead wrapping her arm tightly around Lena’s waist and moving her leg underneath her. Kara could feel the desire building inside her girlfriend, so she casually slowed the tractor and came to a stop.

“Babe, why’d you stop?” Lena asked

“Did you want to keep riding, Lena” Kara replied in a husky voice

“Yes…”

“Then you need to get in a better position,” Kara smirked

“How do you want me then?” Lena asked in an innocent voice

“I thought you’d never ask” Kara said as she grabbed Lena’s legs and positioned one on either side of her, so they were chest to chest. Lena’s breathing quickened in anticipation.

“I think you’d rather ride something else, Lena. And it’s not the tractor is it” Kara said as she slipped a hand underneath her dress. Kara roughly grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her against her. “Tell me what you want baby.”

“I want to ride you. I want to ride your fingers… I want to ride you hard… please” Lena whispered.

Kara pulled her hands from Lena’s ass and grabbed Lena’s face. She kissed her hard and pressed her tongue inside her mouth. Kara could feel Lena moan into her mouth as she lifted the dress over Lena’s head revealing her breasts. Her nipples were hard and begging for attention. Kara took them between her fingers and squeezed, rolling them between her thumb and index finger and tugging. She left one of the nipples in favour of grabbing a handful of Lena’s hair and using it to turn her head to one side. She began kissing, licking and sucking on her neck and throat. Leaving purple marks all over Lena’s neck.

“I want you to beg for my fingers inside you” Kara whispered

“I need you to fuck me, Kara, please! Just fucking take me, own me, Kara please!”

Kara let her hand fall to Lena’s thigh and began running her hands up and down her legs just missing where her girlfriend wanted it most. Once she decided that was enough, Kara ran her hand light over Lena’s slit before dragging it upward to her swollen clit. When she pulled her hand back it was coated in juices. She held her hand up to Lena’s mouth.

“Suck it” she ordered and then Lena was sucking her fingers and running her tongue through each digit.

Kara stared. Lena was so fucking hot straddling her in the cab, there were purple marks forming on her neck and throat. Her dress was thrown on the dashboard leaving her naked and her perfect breast were out on display begging to be played with. From this point of view she could see the juice dripping down her legs as they were spread waiting in anticipation for what was about to come.

“Are you ready to ride, slut? I expect you to ride hard because I won’t do all the work by myself”

“Yes! Please! I promise to ride hard. Just fuck me and make me cum!”

“That’s a good slut” Kara hissed out as she drove two fingers straight into Lena

“OH FUCK” Lena moaned and began bouncing up and down Kara’s fingers, while Kara pounded into her. The sight of Lena’s breast bouncing up and down was mesmerizing, it cause Kara to suck one into her mouth as she pounded Lena’s dripping hot pussy.

“Oh my fucking god Kara! Don’t Stop!” Lena moaned out

Kara couldn’t focus on anything else aside for the moans of Lena begging to be fucked and the wet sounds of her pussy. Who was she to deny such a request.

Lena’s pussy was dripping down Kara’s hand as she worked herself up and down, she was so wet that she didn’t realize that there was a finger plunging into her ass without resistance. The feeling has so good all her thoughts left her mind and the only thing up there was Kara.

Seeing a chance to really fill her up, Kara added a second finger to her ass and a third finger into her pussy while she was bouncing.

“Oh Fuck! HOLY SHIT! Kara!” Lena shrieked out at the unexpected fullness of both her ass and pussy seemed to push her over the edge. As Lena clamped down hard and hot on the fingers inside her.

But Kara didn’t just stop there, while Lena stopped bouncing Kara began pounding even harder into Lena to push out one more orgasm.

Lena grabbed onto Kara’s shoulders as she pushed her fingers as deep as they would go. Kara leaned forward and took a nipple into her mouth and bit down. Causing Lena let out more moans and encouragements.

Just when Lena was getting close Kara curled her fingers inside her and hitting that spot that made Lena’s eyes roll back. Kara slowed down her ministrations coaxing out the ecstasy of Lena’s orgasm. She slowed removed her fingers from Lena’s pussy and ass. Both of the breathing heavy.

Looking up and gently kissing her girlfriend she murmured “That was fun, huh?”

Lena just laughed and kissed the blonde.

I also posted this on AO3

Comments are welcome and maybe promts?

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #smut #karalena #karalenasmut

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