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iamthemain-character · 2 years ago

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sit a while

kaz brekker x reader

gender neutral pronouns

TW: just kaz’s trauma

a/n: i binged watched both seasons of S&B over spring break and now this is my hyperfixiation. i’m going to get my hands on the books hopefully this week, but for now i’m just going with the show canon

a/n 2: As an asexual, this is one of my favorite songs and it made me think of kaz so much (i know that he’s not technically asexual but the fact that it would take so much for him to have sex kinda hits home ya know?) so anyways here’s him to this song

Shadow and Bone Masterlist

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I'll feel the sickness less and less

For a very long time, Kaz Brekker had been locked in a room. A room full of memories of a cold harbor, clammy, dead bodies, and the horrors he had to witness, had to survive. His life had been nothing but pain, with little moments of sunshine from The Crows. But still he was haunted, a shell of a man who was trying to pretend he had everything figured out.

But then they had come along, and like an open window in spring, there was a freshness to them, and something in Kaz’s dark soul stirred a little. Terrified, he desperately tried to shut that window again and again, only to find his long-standing walls slowly crumbling. So even as Y/n found their place among The Crows, Kaz did everything in his power to keep them away.

But while Kaz never showed how much he cared on the outside, he found Y/n on his mind constantly. He started to notice the smallest things, not out of a need to be alert, but simply being their existence consumed him. Sometimes he would find small gifts to leave in front of their door. Kaz never let it showed, but his heart would swell whenever he saw Y/n wearing the earrings he had picked out or when they would display their new trinket in their room.

So despite Dirtyhand’s best efforts, Kaz Brekker had formed a special place in his wounded heart for Y/n. And while everything constantly screamed at him that it was a weakness, that it would only bring pain, Kaz couldn’t deny the way he felt when he was around Y/n. So he kept them close, finding reasons to be near them, just so he could bask in the joy he felt around them. And slowly, piece by piece, Kaz started to find more optimism in each day.

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

Gently, Y/n knocked on the door to Kaz Brekker’s room. The Crows had returned from a job, but when some things went wrong, Kaz ended up without his gloves. Y/n had seen the panic in his eyes, the way they were unfocused, clearly somewhere else. As soon as they had returned to the Crow Club, Kaz had locked himself away in his room.

Y/n had tried to give him space, but it had been an hour and they hadn’t heard from him. So carefully they had carried a cup of tea and some biscuits up the stairs, hoping that it would at least help calm their boss and friend.

“Come in.” Kaz’s voice was unwavering, but Y/n couldn’t forget the way he had looked when his hands had touched skin.

Y/n opened the door and saw Kaz sitting on the edge of his bed, his face a mask of perfect calm and control once again. Unsure of what to do or say, Y/n elected to just place the tray down on the bedside table.

“I brought you some chamomile tea, and some biscuits, but I’m afraid Jesper or Nina may have gotten to them first.”

Kaz didn’t say anything in return, instead just giving a curt nod.

After making sure the tray was situated, Y/n took a step back, but didn’t leave. They knew they probably weren’t helping, but Y/n couldn’t leave again without knowing that their friend was okay.

“Are you…” Y/n sucked in a breath. “Are you alright?”

Kaz raised his head, eyes meeting Y/n’s, but there was an unreadable expression in them. For a moment the two just stood their, locked in each other’s gaze, the silence stretching between them.

Just as Y/n shifted to leave, Kaz’s voice stopped them.

“Do you know why I wear gloves?”

Carefully Y/n lowered themself to the ground, not wanting to startle Kaz for fear he would fold back into himself just as he was opening up. But to Kaz’s credit, he didn’t; with a low voice, he slowly described the events that had led to his aversion to touch, and the nightmares that returned when he was forced to.

When he was finished, they both just sat again in the silence. Y/n’s heart twisted for the man in front of them; they wished they knew a way to comfort him, but instead they looked him in the eye and said,

“You’re safe with me.”

Kaz ignored the lump in his throat that appeared when Y/n said those four words, nodding his head. Then, in a voice just barely above a whisper, he said two of his own that he rarely uttered.

“Thank you.”

If I said you could never touch me

You'd come over and say I looked lovely

Y/n left the busy club floor and made their way upstairs. Seeing the door to his room was cracked open, they entered and found Kaz standing at the window, staring out at the night sky.

“You retired early; are you alright?”

The young man’s back remained unturned. “I’d concluded my business for today, there was no reason for me to linger.”

Y/n ignored the twinge in their heart, use to Kaz’s terse words enough to realize they were his defense. “I thought you were going to join me for a drink tonight.”

Kaz’s shoulders tensed. “You seemed to have company enough.” He spat out.

For a moment Y/n paused, unsure as to what Kaz was talking about.

“Oh, do you mean the boys at the table?” they realized. “Well, I suppose you’re right, at least one of them probably wished I was accompanying them tonight.”

Kaz’s head turned ever so slightly, looking at Y/n out of the corner of his eye. “Then why don’t you?”

Y/n fully closed the door behind them, walking deeper into the room to stand behind Kaz. “Because while they might’ve wanted my company, I did not want their’s.”

That simple statement took Kaz by surprise, and he tried to ignore the way his heart sped up at the idea that Y/n might be alluding to wanting to spend time with him.

“Then who’s company do you want?”

Y/n’s eyes were soft, but they seemed to penetrate straight into Kaz’s soul as he looked into them. “Do you really not know?”

Kaz swallowed hard, trying to ignore the desperate, but futile, urge to take Y/n into his arms. Shaking his head, Kaz pulled his gaze away from Y/n’s eyes. “You do not want my company. You would do better off with someone else-“

“You cannot tell me what will make me happy, Kaz Brekker.” Kaz couldn’t help but look back at Y/n, their voice so defiant, so sure in themself, in Kaz. “You, you make me happy. Your company is the only one I want, day or night. So please, do not insult me so by suggesting another’s might be better for me.”

Kaz turned fully, moving ever so slightly towards Y/n. He could not touch them, but they were like a center of gravity, pulling him closer and closer. Carefully Kaz lifted his hand, his fingers just hovering over Y/n’s arm.

“I cannot give you what other men can. I cannot…” Kaz took a deep breath, hating to admit his weakness aloud. “I cannot touch you.”

A smile broke across Y/n’s face, one that was so genuine and full of warmth that Kaz’s heart skipped when he saw it.

“I do not need your touch, Kaz. Yes, other men’s touch may set my skin on fire, but you set my soul on fire.” Kaz could see the tears glistening in Y/n’s eyes.” You are everything I dream of, and I want to spend every moment with you. So no, I do not need your touch. I am happy with you just as you are Kaz Brekker.”

Kaz felt like he couldn’t breathe, but only because he feared if he did this would be a dream and disappear. But carefully he nodded, gently taking Y/n’s hand inside his gloved one. “And I am happy with you.”

You look perfect, you look different

I don't wonder about your indifference

Even after that night, Kaz still struggled, both to believe that Y/n would truly stay with him and with the fact he could not touch them. He loved them so, and therefore wanted to give them the world. Y/n assured Kaz that they were fine, that they were happy with him just as he way, but that didn’t stop Kaz from trying his best to show his affection in his own way.

Slowly, Kaz opened himself up to Y/n more and more, allowing the person who had captured his heart to see him as he really was. Part of him assumed that they would go running, but to their credit, Y/n stayed through it all. Kaz even slowly tried to touch them; it was difficult, nay, excruciating work, and even the barest brush of fingers sent Kaz spiraling back, he despaired. But the hope that one day he would be able to just hold his lover’s hand pushed him forward, slowly working through the pain that had lingered on his skin his whole life.

And Y/n was there every step of the way, cheering on Kaz’s successes and soothing when it caused distress. They never pushed him, instead allowing him to move at his own pace. And true to their word, Y/n loved Kaz just as he was. They too found a way to show love, through acts of service or spending time with Kaz. The couple didn’t necessary always do something together, instead sometimes electing to do separate activities in the vicinity of each other. It soothed both of them just to know the other was their, and sometimes their eyes would meet, and they would just know it meant, “I’m here, I love you.”

It was simple, you are sweetness

Let's just sit a while

The rain pattered against the window pane in Kaz’s office, it’s repetitive sound calming as it mingled with the crackling of the fireplace. Carefully Kaz looked over his books, seeing what needed to be taken care of and ensuring everything was in order.

Kaz heard a knock on the door, but he immediately knew it was Y/n. Quietly they entered, bringing with them a cup of tea for the both of them. Kaz cleared a space for it on the desk, and as Y/n set it down, he pulled up their chair next to his. This was really part of their nightly routine, with Y/n reading or working on something of their own beside Kaz as he finished up business for the day.

But instead of immediately going back to his numbers, Kaz took a moment to appreciate the person beside him. They thumbed through their book, finally settling in as they found the page they had left off on. Unaware of their lover staring at them, a small smile rested on Y/n’s face as they finally relaxed and settled in for the night. Y/n was beautiful, and once again Kaz thanked whatever higher power there may be for bringing them into his life.

Grappled by the desire that came everytime Kaz was with Y/n, he decided to take a chance. Shakily, he took his hand out of his glove. For a moment he stared at it, terrified as to what nah happen. But Kaz looked at Y/n once again, and he could not shake the love or the calm he felt with them, and Kaz realized he did not want his life to be dictated by what one person had done to him.

So Kaz extended his hand, palm up, towards Y/n. The tips of his fingers brushed the back of their hand, but as Kaz looked into Y/n’s eyes, he pushed back the memories that resurfaced, instead focusing on what was in front of him.

Wordlessly and gently, Y/n took Kaz’s hand, and the latter intertwined their fingers. The smile on Y/n’s face spread, a look of pure joy lighting up their features, and Kaz felt that anything was worth seeing that. Knowing that he was safe in his home with his lover, Kaz allowed a small smile to crack across his face, showing just a sliver of the true joy he felt.

Hands still intertwined, Kaz turned back to his books and Y/n to their story. The night continued on with its rain and the blazes slowly turning to embers, but for the couple in the office, the world had a million possibilities with the love of the person beside them.

#Spotify #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kazzle dazzle #six of crows #shadow and bone #netflix shadow and bone #season 2 shadow and bone #kaz x reader

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suhnshinehaos · 3 years ago

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apartment 5c : episode 06 (part two)

synopsis : when yn’s exchange student roommates leave, they are left with the unfortunate task of finding a new place to stay. lucky for them, a room just opened up at apartment 5c, complete with the most interesting group of people they could ever hope to meet. pairing : svt 96 line x gn!reader genre/s : university au, roommates au, fluff, tiniest bit of angst (maybe), slice of life, humor

episode 06 : woozi’s room

previous ➤ episode six, part one next ➤ episode six, part three apartment 5c ➤ masterlist

your meal out with jihoon ends much quicker than you would have liked. before you knew it, the two of you are walking side by side back to the apartment building, the sky above you dark and starless. you were unsure as to why he suggested walking back instead of getting a cab or taking the bus back, but now you completely understood. there was something about walking through the campus streets at night, without all the hustle and bustle of stressed out students rushing their way to get to their next class.

jihoon notices you wrapping your arms around yourself, a warm breath moving past your lips and into the chilling night air, “cold?”

“a little, yeah.” you nod, feeling your shoulders brush against him at the closeness of your proximity. your steps are much shorter than usual; it’s not exactly like you were rushing to get back to the apartment. you knew precisely what would be waiting for you, a paper you didn’t exactly want to finish writing.

his mouth forms into the smallest of curves, but it’s gone as quickly as it came; it almost makes you wonder if it actually happened. his hand moves to rub the back of his neck, “we should have taken the bus. sorry, i was being selfish.”

“selfish?” your brows form a deep crease in between them, your lips pursed in complete confusion.

jihoon briefly chuckles at your expression before shaking his head. silence falls between the two of you as he hesitates, or at least tries to find the words to say. “i uh- i have a song that i need to finish, and taking walks help me clear my mind when i’m having trouble…it was nice out so- sorry.”

you shake your head profusely after hearing his explanation, refusing that he feel bad about himself, “no! don’t apologise! it is a nice night out, you’re going to finish that song! i mean- look at the moon, no stars but the moon is pretty. i get it, inspiration is out here and not in your room.”

he blinks back at you, stopping in his tracks and completely surprised at your somewhat rambley outburst, “still. you shouldn’t have to suffer in the cold for the sake of my inspiration.”

“it’s not even that cold.” you unwrap your arms around yourself, standing just a couple of feet away from him; unfortunately a shiver travels up your spine, and you’re unable to hide your reaction.

without another word, jihoon’s hands travel to the bottom hem of his hoodie, pulling it upwards so he could take the garment off. for some reason, you can’t help but turn your head away despite the fact you knew that he had a shirt on underneath. your gaze travels to the large library building in front of you, taking a mental count of every single brick to keep your mind distracted.

the sound of a fake cough brings your attention back to jihoon, who is now holding his hoodie out towards you. there’s an unreadable expression on his features, but the lightest pink tint on the tips of his ears threatens to give him away.

your hands gently push the hoodie back towards him, “i don’t need it.”

“too bad, i already took it off.” he rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth is quirked up the tiniest bit.

“you must really feel bad huh?” you raise a brow, challenging him with a teasing smile, “you can put it back on.”

a beat passes. then another. the two of you just staring each other down. it isn’t until a cold breeze blows between the two of you that he pushes the hoodie one more time.

“you gonna wear it or what?”

a fake tone of exasperation laces his voice and you can’t help but give in and put his hoodie on, letting yourself be engulfed in the scent of his cologne.

“thanks.” you mumble before tilting your head towards the direction of your apartment building, “let’s go?”

jihoon briefly takes in the sight of you in his hoodie before nodding, “yeah. let’s go home.”

from reese, with love <3 my professors were kind to me today so am able to get an update out earlier than expected hehe >:) thank you for reading, I'd love to know what you think! hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself :D

#🛋 — apartment 5c!#seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #wonwoo x reader #hoshi x reader #jun x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen smau #seventeen series #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt smau #svt series #svt x you

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crestfallenyh · 3 years ago

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22:32PM—.

cw: yunho x afab!reader. oral sex (m receiving). non-protected sex. consented sextape. lots of kissing, lots of grinding. implied size kink. breath play (choking and deepthroating). a little bit of name calling (dumb) and pet names. slight awkwardness in the beginning and a severe lack of dialogue, both are intentional. let me know if i missed something.

"... film it?," the unreadable expression on your face made yunho shift hesitantly on his seat on the bed, biting his lip as your eyes scanned his face, "film it as in a sextape type of recording?"

he hummed softly and tightened a little more his grasp around your shoulders. you had been laying on your bed for a while now, cuddling and catching up before the conversation took an unexpected (at least by you) turn. the sudden urge to look everywhere in the room except your eyes was strong, but he knew that this was the type of thing he could talk you through without fearing of being judged or dismissed. it's just that he was nervous, as everytime he suggested something new to spice up your sex life.

you would've never thought he was the type to want your intimate moments recorded, as adamant as he was with the idea of keeping the things you did in the bedroom to yourselves. but as he had told you, he was about to leave the country for at least a month due to the upcoming world tour, and he was going to miss you. the physical and emotional intimacy in your relationship was such, that even going an entire day without seeing each other made you nervous. now, an entire month? it would drive him crazy, no doubt. keeping the recording was the best thing he could come up with to make the waiting more bearable for you both. not only that, but he really liked the idea. like a lot. he'd first entertained the thought for a while before suggesting it, thinking that you might not be into it, and because he might or might not have waited a little too long to bring it up, his head was full of lingering fantasies. like the way your body and his would look like on camera, the way your pretty whimpers would fill the silence whenever he felt a little too bothered by your absence, and the way he could watch you come over and over again whenever he wanted. he was excited, to say the least.

"yeah, but if you don't want to we can stick to phone calls. those are fun too," he rushed to say, and you gave him a smirk before pressing the smallest peck on his cheek.

"is my voice going to be enough, though? won't you need any, uh, visual incentive?," he smiled at the way one of your hands sneaked up his thigh and the other helped you prop yourself on his chest, already feeling more relaxed, "i think it's a good idea too, as long as the video stays in our phones. do you want to do it now? you're leaving tomorrow"

the small pout in your face quickly faded away as you watched his ears turn even more red than before, and you giggled. did he wanted to do it now? absolutely. was he still going to blush at your straightforwardness? yeah, that too.

he groaned and kissed your lips, purposefully playing with the hem of your shirt in an attempt to drown his nervousness entirely. all in all, he was happy that you were on board as much as he was, so as soon as he felt you rub your thighs together, he got up and brought his phone, setting it into the video mode and positioning it on your nightstand in a way that both your and his body would be on frame. you looked at him with big eyes before straddling his waist, hands on his broad shoulders and hips barely making any contact with his. you could feel him semi hard under your body, and that combined with the way he was kissing you was enough to make your body tremble in his hold.

he was playful, soft lips caressing yours in a teasing way that soon turned into a more passionate kiss, full of hands roaming and gripping all over your body and soft panting whenever one or the other had to pull away to breathe. it wasn't until he pulled you down on his hard on and started guiding your hips, that you let out the first whimper of the night. you shut your eyes closed, and put a hand over your mouth while side-eyeing yunho's phone, making him giggle in consequence. like someone aside from the man under you could hear you. you were overly aware of the presence of the camera, and your boyfriend was too.

"look at me," he grabbed your wrist and pecked your lips sweetly, "try not to think that it's there. it's just you and me, y/n."

you nodded and took a deep breath before leaning towards his lips again. it felt nice, you thought, that despite of his nervousness and lack of experience with this type of thing he was willing to guide you and reassure you. the last bit of tension disappeared from your shoulders and you abandoned yourself again to the taste of his lips, the smell of his lotion and the warmth of his thumbs against your thighs overwhelming your senses and numbing you in a way only he could do. at this point your hips were moving on their own, desperate to get him fully hard. he groaned when you lifted yourself from his lap and reached for his phone.

"i know what you said, but you should film this one from up close. i think you will like it"

you took your (his) shirt and underwear off your body and laid down on your stomach, before unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pant just enough for his large cock to spring free in front of your face. your hands started working on his length as he pointed the camera to you. the angle wasn't the best, but your face was on full display, your figure was softly framed and hit with the dimmed golden lightning from your desk lamp, and the way you looked up at him almost got him cursing. moans and deep groaning spilled from his lips as you licked and sucked on his cock. your mouth was always wonderful to him, but there was something about you making eye contact the whole time, even when you were so far down on his length that tears prickled on the corner of your eyes and spilled down your cheeks that had him gripping your hair in a tight ponytail.

"that's it, love," his breathy moans had you clenching around nothing, wishing for nothing more than to get some sweet release of your own, "you're doing so good, so good for me"

it was almost funny, the way you were so in sync. you right hand slid down to your heat and started toying with your clit at the same time that he held you in place and started thrusting deep and hard inside your mouth. with each thrust you felt your throat clenching and relaxing harder than before, moaning and not repressing your gag sounds as you knew how much he loved them. he loved knowing how full of him he was stuffing you, and the lustful gaze combined with the tears staining your face were the living proof of how much of a good girl you were being for him. your nose touched his pubic bone time and time again, and you closed your eyes shut for a second, already a bit dizzy from the lack of oxygen. you tried to focus on your breathing, loving the way his grip would not soften until you lightly tapped his thigh. you coughed when he let go of you, immediately seeking his reassuring touch on your face. your lungs were on fire for a good second and your legs were trembling from neediness, but none of it mattered when he brought you up by the elbows and softly placed you on the bed.

"my good girl did a great job, didn't she?," yunho propped himself on his right elbow, pecking your face and caressing your body with his left hand, the hand that wasn't holding the still-recording phone. his sweet demeanor was shockingly contrasting with his previous roughness, but you knew he was providing you with a pause. a space to brace yourself before completely wrecking you. you shared a kiss, one full of messy spit and tongue. you spread your legs for him, always so tempting, and he aligned himself with your hips. he made sure to kiss you harder when his hips slammed against yours, the pleasured cry you let out dying in his mouth.

the first few thrusts were slow and intimate and you could feel your eyelids become droopy because of how intense the feelings were. he, on his own, looked amazing. his groans were heavenly, his bangs sticking to his forehead and his swollen and red lips had you dragging your nails on his back time and time again before he changed positions.

he got on his knees, supporting the majority of his weight that way and sliding a pillow under your body to compensate your heights. he entered you again and you clenched around him, earning a moan right into your ear. you were so sensitive, the arousal from the foreplay, your fingers in your clit and the drag of his big cock in and out your walls almost had you cumming. his pace then changed again, with hard and fast strokes that made your body jolt in place. your legs hugged his waist, trying to bring him impossibly closer at the same time that one hand sneaked up and wrapped itself around your neck and the other pointed the camera at you.

"that's my pretty little thing," he was panting hard, trying to capture your beautiful expressions as well as the bouncing of your chest in the video and relishing in your cunt squeezing his length. "i've fucked you dumb, isn't it? look at you, taking me so well," you could barely keep your eyes open and his praising wasn't helping, your mouth was agape and your cheeks were flushed with both the rush from your high speeding towards you, and the feeling of his hand squeezing your throat. one, two, three more thrusts and you came first. your choked sobs of his name made their way to yunho's ears, and that combined with your wet lashes blinking shakily at him got him filling you up with his warmth.

after a few seconds of purely resting his forehead against yours while you recovered from your respective orgasms and your lungs filled with air again, he pulled out and stopped his recording. it was a good twenty five minutes long material, but he wasn't thinking of any of that in that exact moment. he could only think of embracing you and helping you regain your strength. he was tired, so he brought you to his chest with a contented giggle.

"how was it, love? did it felt good?," you nodded and he kissed your head, tightening his embrace.

"yunho?," he hummed, heart pounding in his chest with love at the sound of your sleepy mumbling, "what about a second round?"

a heartfelt laugh resonated in the room.

#this one is sweet #not proof read as always #ateez smut #yunho smut #kpop smut #not really back to posting but i wanted to write

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years ago

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Oh, what’s in a name?

summary: Geralt accidentally calls Jaskier by the wrong name and Jaskier finds out that maybe that's a compliment

pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

word count: 3k

AO3

warnings: none

„Can you hand me the whetstone, Roach?”

Jaskier, already mid-motion to turn and ready to do what Geralt had asked him to, froze. Slowly, and with the biggest grin he could fit on his lips, he turned back to face Geralt again.

“What did you just say?” He could barely contain the laughter in his voice. Raising an eyebrow, he exchanged a look with Roach – well, he tried to exchange a look with Roach, but as usual, she didn’t cooperate – and let out a tiny snort.

Geralt’s brows furrowed in confusion and he gave a small grunt, before saying, “The whetstone.”

Jaskier blinked, his mouth already half-open to tease Geralt about growing old enough to forget the name of his dearest travel companion, but then he stopped himself. He squinted at Geralt, trying to find any hint on his face that he had even realised that he had called Jaskier by the wrong name, but he found none.

For a moment, he contemplated being offended by being mistaken with a horse, but then Roach trotted over to Geralt and nibbled at his hair, making the witcher look up with the softest smile as he petted her neck.

The sight of Geralt so relaxed and free with his smile, made something warm and fuzzy grow in Jaskier’s chest.

He decided not to say anything. At least for now.

Jaskier’s plans to tease Geralt about the name-thing later failed spectacularly. Not because Jaskier didn’t dare tease Geralt, of course, but because all of his attempts to subtly tease him didn’t work, and Jaskier was too proud of his finesse with words to take a more direct approach to his teasing.

He tried singing songs in which he exchanged Geralt’s name or moniker with something else, which only earned him an amused hum.

“Is calling me the White Wolf not enough anymore?” Geralt asked when Jaskier had finished his little ditty. “I thought you needed one moniker for me for memorability.”

Jaskier huffed and nearly opened his mouth to tell Geralt plainly why he had gone with the wrong moniker, but then he blinked.

“You listened to me while I told you about that?”

Geralt shrugged and turned to tend to Roach. Jaskier was nearly fully convinced that he only did it to have an excuse to avoid eye-contact.

“It’s nice talking to someone who talks back.”

Jaskier snorted. “My friend, I’d say out of the two of us, I’m the one who’s doing most of the talking.”

Geralt didn’t reply, proving Jaskier’s point.

Oh, but Jaskier had been wrong. He didn’t realise just how wrong he had been about Geralt’s penchant for taciturnity, until they had to spend more than a couple of days in town.

Had Jaskier thought Geralt didn’t like talking all that much before, he was now fully taken aback by just how little Geralt actually said. Jaskier would have thought that a town with many people – most of which were even somewhat friendly towards Geralt – would get Geralt to relax, but it only served to make him clam up and become more quiet.

That is, he was quiet, save for when he talked to Jaskier.

In comparison to how he treated everyone else, he was downright chatty with him.

After that discovery, Jaskier made a point of talking more about things that Geralt seemed to like talking about. He let him explain the importance of cleaning his swords so often, lest they rust from his touch. He let him talk for hours on end about how to take care of horses. Once Jaskier got him to open up about his family, Geralt almost didn’t stop talking about his brothers, recounting how he and Eskel had once caught a giant bumblebee or reminiscing about how Lambert had tried to set fire to the instructors’ beds when he had been a trainee.

Watching Geralt talk like that was an experience. Every word that he entrusted with Jaskier made his heart flutter and every small smile Geralt gave him as he talked, took his breath away.

“I think you’d really like them, Roach,” Geralt said to conclude his story about his brothers.

Jaskier’s lips twitched upwards, but just like the first time it had happened, Geralt didn’t seem to realise what he had just said.

Jaskier’s grin turned into a soft smile and he leaned a little against Geralt, letting their shoulders touch gently.

“If they are anything like you, I’m sure I’ll like them.”

A couple of weeks later, Jaskier had to admit to himself that he had been wrong once again. He really needed to be careful not to make being wrong into a habit. He had always prided himself in being intelligent – after all, he was a master of the seven liberal arts and years ago, he had made the most intelligent decision of befriending one Geralt of Rivia – and being wrong about things just wasn’t something he liked doing.

But when it came to Geralt, there were always new things to learn, new facets of him to discover. And that wasn’t something Jaskier minded. In fact, every time he learned something new about Geralt – every time Geralt trusted him with new information about himself – Jaskier’s chest felt like it was expanding with that happy little flutter inside.

It was enlightening to learn that Geralt rarely ever cooked with spices, not because they were too expensive, but because his senses were sharp enough to not need much of them.

It was interesting to find out that Geralt liked making up the witcher-code on the spot, whenever someone asked him to do something that he didn’t want to do.

It was endearing finding out that Geralt had named all of his horses Roach.

But it was utterly shocking, when after weeks of having gone their separate ways, Jaskier finally tracked down Geralt to find him talking to Roach.

He froze to his spot and listened enraptured as Geralt spoke to his horse as others did to their friends. As Geralt did to Jaskier.

No. No, that wasn’t it at all. Geralt wasn’t speaking to Roach as he did to Jaskier.

He spoke to Jaskier as he did to Roach.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide at the realisation. How long had Geralt been alone before Jaskier had attached himself to his side, with only Roach as company?

Jaskier thought back to all the times Geralt had looked insecure when speaking with Jaskier when they had first started travelling together, as if he didn’t know how to talk to people. As if he didn’t have much experience doing so outside of negotiating contracts or the winters that he spent with his family.

Thinking of it, Jaskier realised that he probably was the only friend besides Roach that Geralt had.

Jaskier swallowed against the lump forming in his throat and continued walking to Geralt, announcing his presence with a cheerful, “My friend! I missed you!”

Geralt whirled around to him, an unreadable expression on his face, and Jaskier’s chest twisted uncomfortably, unsure if he had maybe been a bit too enthusiastic, but then Geralt’s eyes softened and he gave Jaskier the smallest but most beautiful of smiles.

That evening, as they sat beside the crackling fire and Jaskier plucked a soft melody on his lute as background noise, Geralt talked to him again, telling him with only minimal prompting about the contracts he had completed while Jaskier had been away playing at court.

When the fire died down and Jaskier got too tired to stay awake any longer, Geralt softly nudged him towards his bedroll.

“We can continue this talk tomorrow,” Geralt said, a little hesitantly, as if he still wasn’t entirely sure if his voice was welcome.

“I’d love to.” Jaskier pulled his blanket up to his chin and smiled when Geralt’s shoulders lost the little tension that had taken hold of them with his last words. “Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, Roach.”

Jaskier pulled the blanket a little higher to hide his smile. The last thing he thought, before sleep embraced him, was that it really wasn’t that bad being called by Roach’s name.

Now, Jaskier and Roach had never gotten along too well. He had tried to braid her mane despite Geralt warning him that she didn’t like people touching her and she had tried to bite his fingers off.

Sometimes, when Jaskier got peckish, he stole the apple slices Geralt would buy for Roach. Other times, Roach would swat at Jaskier with her tail as if he was an irritating fly, while he was in the middle of composing a song.

Safe to say, they barely did much more than tolerate each other’s presence for Geralt’s sake.

Now though, with Jaskier’s newfound knowledge about how important the mare was to Geralt, Jaskier saw her in a different light.

Oh, sure, she was still cantankerous and stubborn, but she was also Geralt’s oldest companion and friend on the Path.

So Jaskier made a point of always putting some coin aside to buy her treats whenever they got into town and composing odes to her beauty. He wasn’t sure if Roach appreciated the latter, but there was no doubt she liked the treats he got her.

It didn’t take long, until she allowed him to pet her soft muzzle and shortly after, she started following Jaskier around or approaching him happily when he came back after having split from Geralt for a while.

At first, Geralt watched this new display of affection between them warily, but all too soon, Jaskier caught him smiling when Roach nibbled at Jaskier’s hair or Jaskier went out of his way to brush her down.

One time, while Geralt had thought Jaskier was too deep in thought composing to hear him, he had whispered to Roach how happy he was that the two of them got along.

“Remember when I said you would like my brothers?” Geralt said one morning, completely out of the blue, while watching Jaskier try to catch the falling red leaves from the air.

Distracted, Jaskier missed the leaf just by a hair’s breadth. It landed on his head instead. Seemingly without thinking, Geralt brushed it off Jaskier’s head, lingering just a little too long to be a casual touch.

“Y-yeah,” Jaskier said, his heart jumping to his throat. “Of course I remember you talking about Eskel and Lambert.”

Something lit up in Geralt’s eyes. “You remember their names?”

“Naturally,” Jaskier said softly. “They are important to you.”

Geralt remained quiet for a little while, just staring at Jaskier with an unreadable expression. “They are,” he said finally. Geralt’s throat bobbed when he swallowed. “I was wondering…if maybe you would like to meet them?”

Jaskier’s brows shot up. “Are they near?”

Geralt shook his head and turned away, clearly pretending to check over Roach’s saddle.

“You could meet them if you came with me to Kaer Morhen.”

For once, Jaskier was at a loss of words. He must have stayed silent for so long that Geralt began worrying, for he turned back to him with a frown.

Before he could take his words back, Jaskier surged forward and slung his arms around him.

“I would love to come with you.”

On their way up the mountain, Jaskier needled Geralt with questions about the keep, but Geralt refused to give as much as a hint of what Jaskier had to expect from a winter with the wolves.

Jaskier considered pouting, but the twinkle in Geralt’s eyes made it impossible to even pretend to be mad at him. Not when it was clear that Geralt was going back to his taciturn ways to have the keep be a surprise for Jaskier.

And a surprise it was.

When the walls of Kaer Morhen came into view, towering over them, Jaskier lost all ability to speak. His eyes raked over the massive doors, the towers that stretched high into the sky and every part of the courtyard that he just itched to explore.

A soft noise beside him made him turn towards Geralt again. His breath caught in his throat when he met Geralt’s gaze, soft and holding more fondness than Geralt had ever allowed himself to show Jaskier while they were out there on the continent.

Geralt hadn’t lied when he had said that Jaskier would get along with his family. It didn’t take more than one night of drinking together, for Jaskier to decide that the other wolf witchers were his friends now too.

Eskel showed him his poetry collection and his eyes lit up when Jaskier promised to discuss every poem in it with Eskel.

Vesemir was happy to have someone who listened to him with enthusiasm when he talked about monsters and fighting techniques for once.

Lambert was a little harder to get to warm up to Jaskier, but after Jaskier had beaten Geralt in a round of gwent – granted, he had cheated shamelessly, but a victory was a victory – Lambert had barked out a laugh and ruffled Jaskier’s hair, proclaiming that he should come to Kaer Morhen more often.

It was mid-winter when the inevitable happened again. Jaskier had started to look forward to it, but he hadn’t realised just what it would mean if Geralt slipped up again while at Kaer Morhen.

Lambert, Geralt and Jaskier were just shovelling snow near the stables, when it happened. Well, maybe calling it ‘shovelling snow’ was a bit generous. That certainly was what they were supposed to do, but after Lambert had thrown the snow to the side with enough enthusiasm to –maybe? – accidentally hit Jaskier with it instead, it had turned into a full blown snow fight, in which Jaskier constantly shifted sides from ganging up on Lambert with Geralt and throwing his arms around Geralt in a hug to keep him in place while Lambert put snow down Geralt’s shirt.

“Stop it,” Geralt laughed and wriggled in his grip, enough to be playful, but coming nowhere close to using even half of his full strength. “Let go, or I’ll throw you into a pile of snow, Roach!”

“I’d like to see you try.” Jaskier smirked and tightened his hold. “Lambert, now!”

But Lambert was frozen mid-motion of grabbing more snow. He stared at Geralt with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“Roach?” He asked with a snort. “Did you just call him Roach?”

In Jaskier’s arms, Geralt stiffened. “I-“

He broke off, throwing a quick glance at Jaskier over his shoulder, before looking away again. Yet, it had been enough for Jaskier to see the look that he had come to understand as blind panic on Geralt’s face.

Before Jaskier could ask him what was wrong, Geralt shrugged him off, easily freeing himself from the hold he had so happily endured before.

“Geralt-“

But Geralt didn’t even falter in his steps. He all but fled into the stables.

Jaskier exchanged a quick look with Lambert who shrugged as if he didn’t care, but followed Geralt’s flight with his eyes and a hint of worry in his expression.

Jaskier didn’t hesitate any longer and ran after Geralt.

Geralt must have heard him enter the stables and hid, for when Jaskier’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, Geralt was nowhere to be found.

Jaskier’s steps slowed and he rubbed his fingers together nervously.

“Geralt?” He asked uncertainly. The only reply he got was the huffing from the horses.

Jaskier’s heart sank, but he set his brow in determination. In two strides, he walked over to the box with Roach, who blew a breath of hot air into his face in greeting.

“Hello there, Roach,” Jaskier began, loud enough that there was no mistaking that he fully intended Geralt to hear him, even though he knew it was unnecessary to raise his voice since Geralt would have been able to hear him even if he had whispered. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, my dear lady. Did you know that Geralt sometimes calls me by your name?”

Roach huffed and Jaskier began stroking the white stripe on her face.

“Yes, I know,” he continued, “But I swear he doesn’t mean it as an insult to you. I for one am actually rather flattered. I’ve been called by the wrong name before, and usually it’s something that makes me feel like the other person doesn’t think I’m worth having my name remembered. Or as if they don’t respect me enough to learn it. But it’s different with Geralt.” His voice softened. “If he calls me by the name of someone who means so much to him, then that is the highest honour I can imagine. You have no idea how happy it makes me that he trusts and likes me enough to talk to me like he does to his other most faithful friend. And can I tell you a secret, dear Roach?” He got up on his tiptoes to get closer to her ear as he stage-whispered, “Geralt is really important to me too. And I really want him to know that I mean it when I say that he’s my best friend, whether he calls me by your name or mine.”

Behind him, straw rustled and the tapping of steps announced that Geralt was coming closer. Not only that, but the fact that Jaskier could hear Geralt approach, meant that Geralt put effort into not startling him. Jaskier hid his smile in Roach’s neck. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Geralt approach slowly, as if he was unsure about every step he took.

Finally, he reached them, standing on Roach’s other side. Jaskier heard him take in a deep breath and he already readied himself to listen to Geralt talk to Roach as he had just done, but then Geralt rounded Roach and came to stand before Jaskier instead.

In his eyes, fear and fondness fought a battle, that fondness won when Jaskier reached out a hand to softly brush it against Geralt’s. With a sigh that expanded Geralt’s entire chest, Geralt intertwined their fingers.

“I-thank you,” Geralt said, looking down at their joined hands. “For understanding. For not being angry at me. I – you are important to me too. More important than anyone outside of Kaer Morhen ever was.” He lifted his head again, giving Jaskier an intense look that sent shivers up his spine. With more meaning, affection and trust than anyone had ever spoken Jaskier’s name with, Geralt said, “You are the most important person to me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes stung and he let out a small choked noise. Without thinking, he tugged Geralt closer and flung his free arm around his shoulders, holding him as tightly as he could and burying his head in Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s hand that wasn’t holding Jaskier’s still, came up to cradle the back of his head and Geralt’s cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice got muffled but the low rumble in Geralt’s chest as he hummed in acknowledgement told Jaskier that he could still understand him. “You’re my most important person too. My Geralt.”

“My Jaskier.”

Over the years, Geralt slipped up less and less. Jaskier would have been almost disappointed, if he didn’t like the way Geralt called him “my Jaskier”, or “my Buttercup” so much.

Well. Jaskier had been wrong before when it came to Geralt and as it turned out, he continued to have this terrible habit, try as he might to get rid of it. Because, when Jaskier had assumed that Geralt didn’t slip up on his and Roach’s names anymore, he had been dead wrong.

The thing was, after years of having Jaskier at his side, of being close to him and loving him with his entire being, Geralt had gotten so used to talking to Jaskier, that one day, while Jaskier was plucking away idly at his lute and Geralt was brushing down Roach, he heard the most curious thing, that made him smile wider than he had ever smiled before.

“There you go,” Geralt said as he brushed down Roach’s flank and she kept turning her head, trying to get to the treats in Geralt’s pockets. “You’ll get the treats if you’re a good horse and stay still for once, Jaskier.”

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt #jaskier #roach #fic #fanfic #witcher #witcher fic #the witcher #my writing #i posted this a while ago on ao3 and completely forgot if I had posted it here as well #fluff

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wonderlandsakura · 11 months ago

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Day 30: Foundation, part 2a

I didn't write yesterday cause I was reading a long ficlet and lost track of time, as you do.

Anyway this bit is Nashi's POV, and hopefully I put enough Johnathan comments for you to get the idea.

It should be widely known fact that Kuranashi couldn't stand Johnathan.

He didn't like the way he was always at attention, always alert and rigid in his motions, always ready to act at the smallest command.

He didn't like the way he looked, always a bit too prim and proper, always buttoned up, always strangled in his clothes.

He didn't like how he always caught him staring at him, eyes following him when he thought he wasn't looking, how he just watched, and he didn't know why.

He hated how he was silent, hardly speaking, never standing up for anything, not even himself when he poked at and insulted him.

He especially hated how he never smiled, never emoted, always blank faced and unreadable.

(He didn't like that he didn't know what he was thinking.)

All in all, Johnathan was everything that Kuranashi stood against, and was obvious that he would hate him.

Or it was, to everyone but Johnathan himself.

So there Kuranashi was, being dragged along by the other boy, wondering why he was even putting up with this treatment.

Maybe it was because Alice had directed him to Kuranashi for his expertise.

(Maybe, more likely, it was because Johnathan had simply asked him for his help.)

Anyway Kuranashi was being dragged along from kitchen to servants' hall and Cook to Matron to ask after the offensive capabilities of the servants.

A waste of time, if you asked him, as he could have easily told you the resounding answer without all the fuss and bother Johnathan seemed inclined to: None.

Well sure the cooks had their boiling vats of hot liquids and muscled arms from ripping meat from bone, and the housemaids had their brooms and knew the back corridors and halls better than any other, but could they fight and use it to their advantage? Well. No.

So all in all, Kuranashi was not quite sure why he hadn't decided to pick a fight with Johnathan for dragging them around for nothing yet.

Maybe it was because he enjoyed watching as he consulted with the servants, with his serious, focused face and rolling baritone voice.

(But that couldn't be it, Nashi hated Johnathan's prissy, rigid ways, and he was jealous of his deeper voice that couldn't be mistaken for a girl's, right?)

Shouting dragged Nashi out of his thoughts.

It seemed Johnathan had gained the ire of the maids he was talking to. Serve him right for dragging Kuranashi around all morning.

The maid hefted what he believed to be candlestick, melting wax still on its tip, as she grew more heated in her shouting. Kuranashi couldn't make out what they were saying from where he was standing at the doorway of the bedroom they were conversing in, but the maid's friend was holding her back as she shook her makeshift weapon in Johnathan's face. And Johnathan...

Johnathan was doing nothing.

What was he doing? Why was he just standing there, right in front of the deranged woman welding hot, melting wax on a heavy metal stick?? He hadn't even retreated to avoid her sweeping arm as she approached!

Was he truly so stupid as not protect himself in the face of advancing danger??!

Well it's not like Kuranashi had to do anything about it. He could just stay here, out of harm's way and pretend he saw noth-

The burning wick of the candle swung eerily close to Johnathan's eye. Hot wax and smoking wick slipped out of the candlestick, falling down down down...

The next thing he knew, Nashi was collapsed over Johnathan on the floor by the fireplace, and he could smell the acrid scent of burning carpet and melted wax. Johnathan was looking at him, face a breath away, eyes dazed, but startled.

He jumped up and away from the other man, definitely not flushing red at the closeness he had found himself in, as he took stock of the situation.

Ok, melted wax and burning carpet. First things first, put out the fire.

He shouted at the startled maid, still clutching her candlestick, and her friend, arms still grasping her waist, standing and staring, stunned, at the fire that was beginning to spread, bringing them to attention as he directed them to get water.

There would be time to scold and punish and find out what had set that maid off later, they needed to minimize casualties now. Kuranashi grasped the nearby throw blanket on the bed and threw it over the still small fire, stamping on it to snuff it out.

Consumed in his task, he didn't notice as Johnathan sat up, seeming to shake himself out of a daze as he blinked, turning his head to take in his surroundings, before he was up, helping Kuranashi stamp out the fire.

Thankfully it worked, and they didn't manage to make the situation worse as they put out the fire.

All in a day's work at the lady's manor, am I right?

Wonder's Tale, Day 27: Foundation, part 1

So it's Day 27 of writing my Tale (actual name pending) and today we're going to jump into the next section.

If you read the 26th's update, you will know that this section will have a lot of short bits, so I've decided I'm going to string them all together as reblogs of this post.

Anyway the required cut:

Charles was overwhelmed.

The lady, Alice, he'd met after being thrown out of his job (literally) seemed to be some sort of big shot??

He followed her around as the town liaison (the town liaison!!) showed her around town, talking about tax returns and productivity on a town-wide scale. It mostly flew over his head honestly.

At least the lady's attendants (attendants??!!?) we're nice. Or at least Marcus was, he was quick to explain things when Charles didn't know what to do. As for Martha, well he didn't know if she found his situation hilarious or if she just thought everything was hilarious, it was probably both though.

And now the house, no Mansion they had returned to??

Charles was going to trip over his shoes and never be seen again wasn't he? He hadn't made a deal with the devil had he? Yes, Alice was kind, but why would an Angel come to help him of all people? Also wasn't there something about devils disguising themselves as angels??

What had Charles gotten himself into???

Charles was very calmly looking around for a nice little corner to have a quick little freak out session, where he hopefully would not to be found and made a commotion of, cause that sounded like a sure-fire way to be disappeared, when he was very sadly interrupted from his searching by Martha, clearly very amused, relaying a summons from the lady.

Right it seemed his misery would end sooner than he thought! Wonderful!

Only it didn't and now he has a much too big, much too extravagant set of rooms, as well as a way too well equipped personal (Personal!1!1!) workshop and smithy and equipment and materials that are way too expensive for someone like him that he's honestly afraid to exist in the same room with. Everything was going great!

Charles was just about to take the opportunity to spiral in a nice room for probably the one and only time in his sorry existence when he sadly prevented once again.

This time it was a rumpled, bespectacled boy with messy dark bangs covering his eyes. He was confusing, too casual to be a servant, but too messy to be one of the guests the lady mentioned, surely? Unless this was a test. Yes that was probably it, it was a test and no doubt Charles was already fail-

A loud sigh interrupted his thoughts. Ah he'd been spiralling again hadn't he. Perfect. He was going to die.

"You're not going to die. Unless you continue hyperventilating," says the boy at the door of the room that surely can't be his. Could he read minds? Fuck.

The boy's eyes are searching as they stare at his face for a moment. Looking for something. There is a test isn't there? The boy sighs again. Charles is failing it isn't he??

"Don't worry, there isn't any test that'll determine whether you get to stay. At least not one that judges you on whether you 'stay in your place' or whatever," the boy says, cutting quickly to the quick of the matter, "If there was, all of us other guests probably wouldn't be here anymore."

Seeing the confusion on Charles's face, he continues, scuffing his foot on the carpeted floor as he began to rub the back of his neck, "Alice is just... Philanthropic. She sees someone in need and just helps. She doesn't really think too much about being repaid... I mean she probably said something about you being useful, but it's probably more to keep face and let her get away with it than anything," he ends in a rush.

"So I'm just saying..." He glances back at Charles face and sighs, looking away, "Don't worry to much ok? Alice means well, she won't kick you out for stepping out of line or something..."

He finally looks up and shrugs, saying, "She's nice."

Charles is. Not sure how to feel about the confession. But he does feel a bit lighter. Maybe. So he thanks the boy, who leaves, introducing himself as Arnold.

Charles watches him go before closing the door and flopping on the much too comfy bed. Well maybe it won't be so bad after all. If it's inevitable that he's going to be thrown out (he's not quite sure he believes the other boy, guest or not) he might as well make the most of it while he's here.

#hi i nearly went down a rabbit hole in regards to the difference between baritone and tenor voices #anyway Johnathan is a baritone #Nashi is a tenor #wonder writes #wonder's tale #part 30 #if you're wondering what Johnathan did that caused this mess #don't worry I'll expand on that tomorrow probably #it might be Kuranashi's pov again #anyway i was struggling with the naming here #i might actually come back to fix it #anyway it's getting late and i don't want to write anymore so we're stopping here for the day

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happylittledrabbles · 3 years ago

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Sour, Then Sweet

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Eijiro Kirishima

Rating: 18+ (DO NOT INTERACT IF UNDER 18)

Genre: Fluffy smut

Word Count: 7K

AO3

Kirishima used to like having sex with Bakugo...until he had to keep calling in sick every time they did it because Bakugo was so rough, it hurt doing Pro Hero work the next day. He avoids having sex with his boyfriend until Bakugo thinks that he isn't attractive anymore, causing a miscommunication between the two men. Kirishima eventually fesses up, and Bakugo reveals he's preferred romantic sex over rough the entire time.

Then, they try it out.

Eijiro Kirishima liked sex. Keyword: liked.

It’s not as if he’s completely averse to it now. No, he enjoys it—it’s very evident every time he does it. But, well, the effects of the deed afterward left much to be desired, and now, whenever Bakugo initiates, he can’t help but imagine the amount of pain he’s going to feel the next day. Bakugo is…rough. Very rough. Kirishima used to like it…the first few times. Really only the first time. But that’s probably because that was when he was between Pro Hero jobs and didn’t have to get out of bed the next day and do actual work.

“Oh, my God, just tell him!” Mina would say whenever Kirishima would FaceTime her, but he’d just change the subject and promptly hang up.

There’s no way in hell he’s going to talk about something as embarrassing as a sore butthole or the fact that his hips feel so rickety that he has to call in sick for work. Actually, he’s had to call in sick every single time they have sex. The fading hickeys on his neck don’t get the chance to fade away before being replaced with a fresh set; usually, that’d be very sexy to the Pro Hero, but when he has to go out as a venerated public figure, being seen by children and old people, it’s very much not desired. Mina lent him her concealer, saying “It does the trick” with a wink, but Pro Hero work isn’t exactly conducive to keeping makeup looking flawless. Thankfully, Pro Hero work is conducive to explaining away the scratches and “bruises” on his chest and neck.

Bakugo is genuinely concerned whenever Kirishima has to call in sick, but the redhead just pushes him out the door saying that he was fine; he just isn’t feeling it that day. But the excuses are running thin. There are only so many times he can call in sick without losing his spot in the top ten of Pro Heroes, and above all, he needs to help people. He can’t help but turn on the TV and watch in horror as depressing story after depressing story popped up on the news, all while lying on his side because sitting on his ass hurt too much.

So…he’d started turning down sex. And never initiating it. Well, he’d stopped initiating for a while. But he’d never turn it down. Now, before getting home, he’d use his trip home to think of all the excuses he could use when he climbed into bed with his boyfriend later that night if Bakugo was in the mood. He knows a simple ‘no’ would satisfy the blond and earn him a forehead kiss before being left alone, but…he still feels guilty. Therefore, the excuses came rolling in.

“Ah, sorry, just ate a big burrito.”

“I just took a shit. Ha.”

“Look over there! Oh, no…our potted plant broke. Gotta fix that.” (Kirishima pushed it off the dresser.)

“I’m really sweaty from work…no, it’s not sexy. No—a villain pissed on me, too.” (They had not.)

Bakugo, instead of being sexually frustrated, has been panicking. The main worry on his mind hasn’t been “Fuck, blue balls again?” Rather, it’s been “Is Eijiro not attracted to me anymore?” He hasn’t put on any weight. In fact, he’s gotten more muscular as an effect of his Pro Hero work. U.A. was challenging, especially with the League of Villains always up their asses, but at least they had their teachers and other Pro Heroes looking after them. Now it’s all up to him. He thought this feeling of losing control would stay at work, but clearly, it’s followed him back home because he can’t get a grip on Kirishima. Any time he thinks he’s figured Kirishima’s feelings out or gotten him close to talking about his feelings, he slips right out of his hands and locks himself behind a door, both metaphorically and physically. He’s already losing control and stamina in his Pro Hero work; the last thing he wants is for that to happen to his relationship.

Bakugo’s frustration boils to a point after a particularly hard day when he comes home and sees Eijiro on the couch, and instead of his boyfriend greeting him with a hug and a kiss, he stiffens and looks over his shoulder with a weary smile.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bakugo shouts, throwing his hands up in the air as he kicks off his boots. His anger subsides immediately when he sees Kirishima’s face fall, and he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, that came out wrong. I mean, why have you been acting weird?”

Kirishima frowns, visibly confused. “Weird? What do you mean?” He gets up from the couch and pads over to his boyfriend, his hands nervously laced together in front of him.

Bakugo’s scowl deepens, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle of his forehead. He snaps his arm forward, motioning to Kirishima’s hands. “I mean, you won’t even touch me. Why are you acting so nervous every time I get close to you?” He steps forward, and Kirishima takes a step back. Bakugo’s heart falls to his feet, cementing them to the ground. He’s paralyzed.

“See?” he adds with the smallest voice he’s used in a while.

It’ll be painful for Kirishima to explain why he’s been avoiding sex. But it’s even more painful to watch his boyfriend, who is usually so full of gusto, look like a timid mouse before him, pleading with him to explain himself. Kirishima never thought that communication would be this hard. It’s so simple out on the field: “Uravity, on your right!” “The villain is heading west down Third Street!” It’s short, informational, and unimportant in the long scheme of things. But relationships are a whole ‘nother level.

“I—” he starts, but panic sets in and closes his throat to any speech.

“Spit it out!” Bakugo’s hair is standing on end, and he lets out a long breath. “C’mon, Eijiro. You’re treating me like a villain here.” He hesitates before asking quietly, “Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

Kirishima’s chin dimples as he tries to hold back tears. He’d never thought that he had been hurting Bakugo, too. But clearly, he had, to the point of the other thinking he isn’t attractive. That is the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard. So ludicrous, in fact, that out of pure spite, his mouth opens to offer the explanation once and for all.

Kirishima groans from frustration. “No, that’s not it at all! You’re still the most attractive man ever! Like, the first time I saw you, I was like ‘wow.’ Then when I saw you blow stuff up, I was like ‘wow.’ Like, you went kablam and kaboosh! It was so cool! What’s there not to be attracted to?”

Bakugo scowls. “Then why won’t you have sex with me?! Why do you keep putting things off? If you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s fine. I guess.” He begins to stutter out his next sentence before stopping to recollect himself. “I just want to know…if I did anything wrong.”

Kirishima’s never seen his boyfriend so downtrodden. He’s desperate to put a smile back on his boyfriend’s face, but the only way to do that would be to have sex with him, and well…

He purses his lips before coming clean. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise! I’m sorry, Katsuki! It’s just…you’re…” He looks up from the floor to meet Bakugo’s eyes, the blond’s ruby eyes darker than usual. Kirishima inhales sharply and balls his hands into fists by his sides, finally yelling, “You’re too rough!”

When he has the courage to open his eyes, they reveal a thoroughly confused Bakugo. His head is cocked, and his scowl has morphed into a straight line.

“…What?” Bakugo asks, lifting his hands up to look at them. “Like…my voice? Or how I act?”

“Uh…” He’s gone this far. Time to come clean. Kirishima rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and groans before saying, “In…in bed. You’re too rough in bed.”

It’s comical how quiet the two men are and how quickly they meet eyes. They just stand there, staring at each other for what feels like eons before Bakugo takes a step forward, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m too rough…in bed,” he repeats, and Kirishima feebly nods.

“I’m sorry for letting it drag on for so long; I know that isn’t really manly of me. But I didn’t…I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s embarrassing, but I can’t do it anymore. My ass hurts so much after, and—and the hickeys and bruises are embarrassing, and—”

Kirishima is silenced by the softest pair of lips upon his own, a mere brushing of lips together. He barely would have noticed had his vision not been clouded by a flurry of spiky blond hair and blushed tan skin. His hands are up in the air, unsure of what to do with them, until they come to rest on Bakugo’s shoulders, his fingertips digging gently into the hard muscles underneath them.

“You fucking idiot,” Bakugo whispers underneath his breath before diving in for a deeper kiss, making sure to keep it passionate but gentle. He lets his hands roam Kirishima’s torso with a feather-like touch before resting them on his hips, giving them a tender squeeze to let the other know that none of his words have any bite. But Kirishima has known that for a long time. Ever since they first met at U.A., while everybody feared Bakugo, Kirishima knew there was something else under the surface. And there was. Pure, unadulterated love.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Bakugo asks, pulling away for a short second before going back to kissing. “You should’ve told me.” Kiss. “Why don’t you ever tell me anything?” Kiss. “Now I feel like an asshole.” Kiss. “You’re the asshole for not telling me, asshole.” Kiss.

“If only you’d let me talk!” Kirishima exclaims with a laugh, cupping a hand over Bakugo’s mouth to stop any further kisses for a moment. “I know, I am the asshole. But it’s humiliating, Katsuki! Admitting that your butthole hurts? Why the hell would I ever tell anybody that? Especially after doing hard anal the day before? Mina laughed in my face—”

“You told Mina and not me?!” Bakugo roared, tearing Kirishima’s hand from his mouth. “You are dead. You’re fucking dead. You both are dead, you and that purple shitbag.”

Kirishima has to hold back a chuckle. “She’s pink.”

Bakugo’s head whips back to his boyfriend, his eyes flaming hot. “Not the point!”

Kirishima laughs again and cups the sides of Bakugo’s face, which is now a mild shade of red. He leans forward and plants a butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose, drawing himself back with a soft smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, Katsuki. Seriously. I really should’ve told you. I just figured that you really like rough sex and didn’t want to get in the way of that. We can still do it…just on a weekend or a day off so I can recover.”

“No, no.” Bakugo wipes Kirishima’s hands off his face and laces his own fingers through his boyfriend’s, dropping their hands between them. “We’re not doing that anymore. Unless you want it. I just…”

Now Bakugo’s face is the shade of the hot sauce in the fridge. He suddenly understands why Kirishima was so embarrassed now. Talking about sex is…embarrassing. Their first time, while sentimental, is not something he wants to remember often. In fact, his brain only brings it up when it wants him to cringe, like on a random patrol down the block. Full of misunderstandings and miscommunications, it was a jumble of body parts and weird fluids and Kirishima’s head hitting the headboard so hard he got a lump afterward. Well, the misunderstandings and miscommunications clearly didn’t stop there because they are in the same situation—just without the jumble of body parts and weird fluids. Not yet, anyway.

Bakugo inhales like Kirishima did, using the short time to build up the courage. “I thought you were the one who liked it rough. You seemed…really turned on that one time in the love hotel. With all the, uh, handcuffs…and stuff. So I just…kept on doing it like that.”

Kirishima’s eyes are wide as an owl’s, and he tries not to bite through his lip with his sharp teeth with how hard he’s attempting at not laughing.

“You based…our entire sex life off one time where I seemed particularly turned on?” Kirishima asks, his voice wavering as the laughter tries to butt in. “Is that what the logic was in your head?”

Bakugo yanks his hands back to himself and starts toward the bathroom. “Shut up, you idiot! Forget I ever said anything.”

“No!” Kirishima practically throws himself at his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. “No, I think it’s adorable. You just wanted to make me happy, right?”

Bakugo stiffens before relenting with a nod.

Kirishima rubs his cheek against Bakugo’s back and grins. “You know, I was so excited that one time because of when you weren’t rough. When I had the blindfold on and I couldn’t see you, and you slowly dragged your fingers over me…” He mimics what he’s saying on Bakugo’s chest, stroking his pecs with the tips of his fingers. He lifts them up to the skin above the deep V of his costume, feeling the warmth of Bakugo’s skin skyrocket.

“That’s what made me so excited,” Kirishima explains. He begins to step away from Bakugo, but his hands are firmly kept against Bakugo’s chest by the other’s grip on them.

“Don’t move.” Bakugo’s voice is strong but with a needy undertone. He turns around in Kirishima’s arms, his eyes looking down at their feet. “I’m sorry.”

Kirishima chuckles. “That’s not something I hear every day. This is a cause for celebration.”

Before Bakugo can retaliate or stomp away in a fit of rage, Kirishima stands on his toes, kissing the firecracker on the forehead. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re still my favorite manly man.”

Bakugo manages a smile despite his previous bitterness and nods. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Kirishima nods along with him. “I’ll shower after you. Mind throwing a frozen pizza in the oven while I’m in there for dinner?”

Bakugo’s smile fades, and he hums absentmindedly as he turns around to go to the bathroom. “Yeah, sure.”

Kirishima’s smile fades as well at that response. Hadn’t everything been resolved? Why was his boyfriend still acting like that?

His worries continue for the better part of the evening, especially when Bakugo steps out of the shower and doesn’t say anything in passing before flopping on the bed and going on his phone. Kirishima tries to share a smile with him, or even just a glance, but there is no contact. He frowns to himself and goes to shower, his mind swirling with panic the entire time he’s in there. Once he’s done, he steps out and wraps a towel around his waist before walking into the bedroom. However, he doesn’t walk two steps in before he spots Bakugo sitting at the foot of the bed, smoothing the throw blanket down.

“Babe, what’s going—”

“Eijiro, c’mere,” the blond says, his voice gruff but sincere. He pats the spot next to him, and Kirishima obeys, nervously fumbling with the towel as he sits down. Bakugo places a hand over his boyfriend’s hands to still them and looks up with a gaze of pure love and admiration. His eyes rake over Kirishima’s body, the tan skin still dewy from the shower and his stringy hair framing his angular face. He truly is the manliest man, Bakugo thinks before biting back a snicker. That is clear evidence that he’s been spending too much time with the redhead: he’s even starting to think like him.

Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

“Eijiro,” Bakugo starts but hesitates. He clears his throat before saying, “Y’know, I like rough sex, but I’ve always been more of a romantic guy. Um, like…” He sheepishly scratches the back of his head, his eyes refusing to meet Kirishima’s. “Candles…or rose petals. Or…like, soft music. I don’t know. But…I—I like that more.” He bites his lip. “Especially with you.”

Kirishima’s eyes are wide as saucers. He knew that Bakugo didn’t always act like the rude stereotype people make him out to be, but never in a million years did he think that he would purposefully like lovey-dovey sex. He didn’t like fucking—he liked making love. Just the thought gives Kirishima butterflies, which are now running rampant in his stomach. He places a hand over it to stop the feeling from going down too far, but the look in Bakugo’s eyes makes it seem as if that isn’t so bad.

“I…I want to try it,” Bakugo finishes, twiddling his thumbs anxiously for his boyfriend’s response.

However, he doesn’t even need to think about it. He replies, “Then let’s try it.”

Now Bakugo’s eyes are wide, his head turning slowly to meet Kirishima’s determined gaze. He wants to laugh at how adorably resolute his boyfriend looks. Instead, he whispers, “Eijiro,” but he doesn’t finish his sentence, letting it trail off as he leans forward and touches his top lip with Kirishima’s. Both their eyes are lowered, their breaths quickening and their heart rates jumping.

Kirishima closes the gap and nearly falls into their routine foreplay of smashing lips and roughly tearing their clothes off each other like hungry animals. It’s strange doing it so slowly; he’d never felt Bakugo so vividly before. He can taste the strawberry lollipop some kid probably gave him on the street. He can feel every wrinkle, every cut on his bottom lip from how he’d anxiously bite it. The kiss has no teeth, no sharpness at all. Just the soft smacking of their lips and their warm breaths against each other’s chins.

It feels juvenile, all of it. As if they’re going to have sex for the first time and getting to know each other’s bodies. Bakugo lifts his hand and hesitates before gingerly placing it on Kirishima’s chest.

Cute, Kirishima thinks of Bakugo’s nervousness.

“You can touch me, Katsuki,” he whispers, guiding Bakugo’s hand to press firmly into his chest. He’s certain Bakugo can feel his heartbeat going at the speed of a hummingbird’s, but he’s not embarrassed. It’s perfect: it shows how much he’s enjoying this without him having to voice it.

“Okay,” Bakugo replies and returns to kissing, cupping Kirishima’s pec in his palm and giving it a tender squeeze.

“Mm,” Kirishima breathes, breaking the kiss.

Bakugo’s face was already red, but now it’s horridly scarlet at the mere sound of the soft groan. He’s also nervous; he knows that Kirishima will tell him—now that they’ve worked everything out communication-wise—if he’s being too rough, but the panic still lingers.

“Good?” he asks.

Kirishima can tell Bakugo’s being overly cautious, and all he does is direct his boyfriend’s hand to go lower down his torso, letting out another shaky breath. “Y-yes,” he replies, his eyelids heavily lidded. “Good.”

Bakugo nods, and they return to kissing, the one thing both know how to do softly by now. It’s everything else they need to learn how to do. One step at a time. The only “rough thing” they do is when Kirishima playfully nips at Bakugo’s bottom lip with his sharp teeth, eliciting an irresistible groan out of the other.

Bakugo laces his fingers with Kirishima’s and gently pushes him down onto the mattress, never breaking their lip-lock as he turns to settle himself between his legs. While one hand is secured in his boyfriend’s, he uses the other to roam Kirishima’s body, of which he had missed for far too long. He caresses his soft stomach, feeling the strong muscles underneath the thick skin. He runs his fingers down his black happy trail (he burst out laughing the first time he saw it, saying “So the carpet doesn’t match the drapes?” earning a swift kick to the head). His fingers’ journey is stopped by the towel, and Bakugo separates from Kirishima to look down at him for approval.

“Yes, Katsuki,” Kirishima mumbles, his breaths already heavy with anticipation. “Touch me.”

Bakugo smiles and slips his fingers underneath the towel, his hand bumping into Kirishima’s cock only a few centimeters down.

“You’re that excited for me?” Bakugo asks, gripping Kirishima and drawing out a shrill gasp from him. “I’m flattered.”

Kirishima’s about to say something before he’s cut off by his own moan once Bakugo begins pumping his hand, his head falling to the side and his free hand coming up to cover his mouth. He bites his knuckles as Bakugo’s lips fall to his jaw, then to his chin, then to his neck, leaving his skin prickling and pink wherever those lips fall.

The knuckles provide the bare minimum of sound dampening, his voice still echoing off the sides of their bedroom as Bakugo’s stroking gets faster and his kisses grow more feverish. He resorts to draping his forearm over his eyes, squeezing his eyelids shut underneath the darkness his arm provides. If he’s going to be heard no matter what he does, then he’ll hide whatever embarrassing expressions he’s making. Usually, the foreplay and sex go by so quickly, there’s no time to even look at each other. But he can feel Bakugo’s eyes on him, on his body, and the thought makes him squirm.

“Before you say anything, no hickeys, got it,” Bakugo says after pulling away from kissing. He takes a moment now that he’s hovering over Kirishima to admire his body as it is. Usually, they went too fast to savor each other’s bodies. For instance, he didn’t know his boyfriend had a freckle in the middle of his sternum. Or that his nipples are slightly mismatched—but are gorgeous all the same. Or how his stomach expands then contracts erratically to compensate for his hurried breaths.

“You’re beautiful,” Bakugo whispers, diving in to kiss Kirishima’s jaw.

Kirishima chuckles before letting out another soft moan. “I’m a man, you’re supposed to call me handsome.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Bakugo replies, tweaking Kirishima’s nipple playfully and earning a surprised yelp and displeased grumble. “A beautiful dumbass.”

“I’m going to harden and crack you across the face.”

“But you’re already hard.”

“Hey-!” Before Kirishima act out his promise, Bakugo tightens his grip on him and strokes him even faster, pressing his thumb into the head and smearing the precum around it. “A-ah!”

Kirishima shivers, but Bakugo isn’t done with his compliments, even though his boyfriend thinks he doesn’t deserve them.

“Beautiful nose,” Bakugo says, kissing the tip of Kirishima’s nose that’s peeking out from underneath his forearm.

“Beautiful cheek.” Kiss.

“Beautiful jaw.” Kiss.

“Beautiful neck.” Kiss.

“Beautiful chest.” Kiss.

“Beautiful stomach.” Kiss.

Bakugo sits back on his haunches as he pulls the towel away completely, revealing the rest of Kirishima’s body. Another shiver racks Kirishima’s body at all the compliments, his legs self-consciously shutting closed at all the love. He isn’t used to being looked at. To being revered. Of course, Bakugo compliments him, but it’s usually laced with an insult or said begrudgingly. Not like this. Not so easily. Not so…tenderly. It’s…nice. The butterflies are at full speed now, and he’s feeling dizzy as he watches Bakugo continue to press kisses into his skin. Probably because all the blood in his body is draining into his dick. With each compliment, his head gets fuzzier.

“Cute dick,” Bakugo says, which brings Kirishima’s mind back to fully functioning.

He tosses his arm off his face and sits up to look at his boyfriend staring up deviously at him from between his legs, his cock right in front of his face. “What? Not beautiful? Cute?” he exclaims, his voice breaking.

“Yeah, now shut up,” Bakugo says, pushing Kirishima back onto the bed and giving the head a kiss before the redhead can retaliate.

“T-that’s playing—ah! D-dirty…” Kirishima says before dissolving back into his moans.

Bakugo snickers and gives his cock another lick before kissing the tops of Kirishima’s thighs, delighting in seeing them flinch at the touch. “Beautiful thighs.”

He lifts Kirishima’s leg to his shoulder, all the while still pumping him vigorously.

“Beautiful calves.” Kiss.

He kisses the top of Kirishima’s foot. “Beautiful feet.”

“You’re into feet now?” Kirishima asks with a half-laugh, half-gasp.

Bakugo doesn’t answer. He knows that what he’s about to do will be funnier than anything he could say. He licks a trail from Kirishima’s ankle, putting down his leg in the process, to his thigh, watching with satisfaction as his boyfriend’s back arches off the bed. Without giving Kirishima time to recover, he engulfs his cock in his mouth, nuzzling his nose into the black happy trail before coming up for air.

“T-too fast!” Kirishima cries out, his forearm pressing down on his face while his other arm was outstretched, his hand fisting Bakugo’s spiked blond locks. “I’m gonna come…”

“From just that?” Bakugo teases. When he feels Kirishima’s legs tense underneath him and try to close, he forces them back open, leaning forward to give the tip another kiss. “C’mon, Eijiro, I thought I knew you better.”

But what Bakugo is really thinking is: If this is what it takes for him to come so easily, no wonder it took him so long when we were doing it rough before.

He makes his way back to Kirishima’s cock and lays his tongue flat against the base before licking up the shaft, giving special attention to the head before doing the whole routine again. He takes it into his mouth again and, using the spit pooling at the base, wets his fingers and circles Kirishima’s entrance.

Wait, he thinks, stopping himself. That’s too rough.

He lifts himself from his mewling boyfriend, reaching over to the nightstand and retrieving a condom and the lube bottle rarely used since they get to the deed so quickly, there’s barely any time to stretch.

Fuck. I’m an idiot. No wonder Eijiro was complaining about the pain. It must’ve hurt like a bitch.

He coats his fingers in a generous layer of lube and lowers himself back onto Kirishima, rounding his entrance tantalizingly.

“Katsukiii!” Kirishima whines, his hand back in Bakugo’s hair. “Please!”

“Patience, babe,” Bakugo replies nonchalantly. “Didn’t you say you wanted it slow?”

“Not this slow!” the other exclaims from underneath his forearm. His legs spread apart to make room for his boyfriend, his body language much more communicative than his words.

Bakugo is about to tease Kirishima some more before he gives in and works in a finger, spreading Kirishima’s walls and pumping it back and forth. He’s just as needy and impatient; sure, he loves some romantic lovemaking, but damn, did he want the main course.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, looking up at his boyfriend while he busies his mouth with his cock.

Kirishima feebly nods. “Getting t-there.”

“Just have to find the right spot,” Bakugo whispers to himself, using Kirishima’s moans and sighs as a guide to where his prostate is. He has a vague idea; however, yet again, they went too fast for him to properly know where it is.

He inserts another finger, scissoring Kirishima open while trying to find his spot at the same time. All the while giving him a blowjob. Why hadn’t he done this earlier? The delicious moans and cute exclamations and sultry expressions Kirishima’s releasing is addicting, and Bakugo can’t picture their future sex life without any of it. Even though they’ll probably be having sex less often with how long the process is going to take now, it’s completely worth it.

“Yes!” Kirishima cries out, his back arching again and his head flying backward into the pillow. His legs begin to tremble the more Bakugo massages the bump raised from the velvety walls around it. “Katsuki—hnngh! Feels…so g-good…”

Bakugo puts all his energy into working Kirishima open so that he feels no pain the next day while paying special attention to that special bump, sending Kirishima into a pleasure-fueled frenzy.

Kirishima’s tripping over his own words, his tongue getting caught in “C-coming! I’m—"

“Not so fast,” Bakugo says after popping off his cock, slowing down his hand and slowly slipping it out. Kirishima lets out a high-pitched whine at the loss inside him, and Bakugo chuckles as he pushes himself back up to his boyfriend’s face and kisses his cheek. “Just a little more, baby. You can take it.”

Kirishima’s panting like a dog in heat at this point. The only reason he isn’t completely humiliated is because his forearm is his saving grace, but even that is taken away by Bakugo. He grips Kirishima’s wrist and uncovers his face once and for all, pushing his wrist into the mattress.

“I want to see your face,” he whispers in the other’s ear, giving the lobe a feathery kiss. Kirishima grumbles something under his breath but complies to his boyfriend’s request since, after all, how is he supposed to see Bakugo’s face and all his expressions if his eyes are closed?

Bakugo uses his free hand to lift the condom up to his mouth. He uses his teeth to tear the packaging, spitting out the corner and retrieving the condom from inside. He meets Kirishima’s eyes for the first time the entire night, which are dark with lust and wild from unadulterated pleasure. “Mind putting it on me?”

Kirishima’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, but he eventually nods, pushing himself up by the elbows and taking the condom from his boyfriend’s fingers. He reaches forward, pinches the tip, and slides it on with ease, giving Bakugo’s cock a gentle squeeze and quick stroke to tease him back for everything he’s done.

“Fuck,” Bakugo mutters with a heavy exhale. He smirks and looks up at Kirishima, who’s now laying back down with his hands fisting the pillow underneath his head and his pink legs spread wide open in invitation. “You can be a little devil, can’t you?”

Kirishima lifts a hand to Bakugo’s face, drawing him closer until their lips are touching once again. Bakugo’s blond eyelashes tickle his cheeks, and he smiles. “Make love to me, Katsuki.”

Bakugo’s power trip is gone, replaced with highlighter bright red cheeks. That’s it. He’s going to only make love to Kirishima from now on, especially if it means this.

He nods; it’s the only thing he can do. He glides his hands into Kirishima’s, prying them from the pillow and pressing them into the mattress next to his shoulders. Their hands are so warm together, slick with sweat, their knuckles white from how tightly they’re clutching each other. Their hands are their anchors. Bakugo nor Kirishima can imagine separating them now.

“I love you,” Kirishima whispers, placing a butterfly kiss on the tip of his boyfriend’s nose. “So much.”

Bakugo smiles and presses his sweaty forehead’s into Kirishima’s. “I know.”

With that, he slowly slides inside, letting out a low groan at the sudden warmth and tightness surrounding him. Kirishima, on the other hand, is speechless. He’s confused; either it’s the combination of the lube and the stretching or he’s just gotten looser from all the rough sex, but…it doesn’t hurt. He just feels full, yet to feel pleasure, but if he shifts his hips a specific way, he’s certain he’ll feel it in no time. But it’s the lack of pain that he’s surprised about. He couldn’t be happier.

“You okay?” Bakugo asks from the crook of Kirishima’s neck, where he buried his face, his voice muffled by the soft skin underneath.

“Move,” Kirishima demands, moving his hips down and whirling them around. He’s left speechless again as Bakugo’s cock brushes against his prostate, his eyes wide and his nails digging into Bakugo’s knuckles. “Move, please.” He doesn’t want to rush it in case of injury, but damn, he’s on cloud nine.

Don’t need to ask me twice, Bakugo thinks. His hips move on their own, rocking forward slowly and drawing groans from both men. He starts up a languid rhythm, listening to the noises spilling out of his boyfriend’s cherry-red mouth both because it’s music to his ears and for any signs of distress. But there is none. Just begs and whines and mewls.

“Faster,” Kirishima pleads, his thighs clinging to Bakugo’s sides. Bakugo can feel them shaking, as well as the rest of Kirishima’s body. And he gladly complies, ramping up the speed, but it’s nothing compared to their fuckfests. Even though it’s slow compared to their other times, Kirishima is treating it as if he’s going a hundred kilometers an hour in terms of going absolutely crazy. His back is arching so much, his stomach meets Bakugo’s, their chests touching every time Bakugo pushes inside. His neck might break with how far his head is thrown back, allowing his Adam’s apple to protrude from his neck and dance along to every single moan and whimper that comes out like samba music.

“Yes, Katsuki—fee…ls s-so—nngh!” He dissolves into blabbers and incoherency, working his hands free from Bakugo’s to cling onto his back for dear life, leaving ugly red scratches along the way. “I want…I want—ugh!”

“Use your words, baby,” Bakugo murmurs, and Kirishima’s shoulders hike up to his ears at the warm breath on one of them.

“Mm… deeper, harder—” That’s all that comes out of Kirishima before he’s overtaken by moans again.

Bakugo works out his pace. Usually, he just goes fast. But Kirishima isn’t asking for faster anymore, he’s asking for deeper. Harder. Same speed, but just—

SMACK!

“GUH!” A guttural cry escapes Kirishima’s throat, and Bakugo groans along with the hard thrust. It echoed off the walls, the bed creaking to show its displeasure with the move.

“Yes! Like that! Just like that!” The scratches are numerous and ugly now, covering the majority of Bakugo’s back.

“Good boy,” Bakugo mumbles, pressing a kiss onto Kirishima’s forehead adorned by beads of sweat. “You did good. F-fuck.” Now Bakugo’s getting incoherent, unable to form a singular thought as he continues the punishing thrusts and slow pace. “You f-feel so good, baby, so good…”

“Close…I-I’m close,” Kirishima warns, crossing his ankles behind Bakugo’s back to push him even closer. He drops his hands from Bakugo’s back and cradles his face with them, bringing his boyfriend’s face back to being nose-to-nose with him. “God, I love you. Make love to me, Katsuki. Love me, love me, love me—”

“For the rest of my life,” Bakugo murmurs back against Kirishima’s lips. “For the rest of my goddamn life, I’ll love you.”

That’s all that Kirishima needs. Yes, the pleasure he’s receiving from his prostate being abused by Bakugo’s cock is more than enough to push him over the edge. But hearing his boyfriend, the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with, confirm that he in fact feels the same way and is using passionate sex to communicate that to him…it’s more than enough.

“Katsuki, I’m gonna come—I’m—!”

With one last snap of Bakugo’s hips, Kirishima’s done. White blurs his vision, his entire body racked with pleasure, tears, and electric pulses, both across his skin and deep in his muscles. His hair stands on end, goosebumps decorate his skin, his body is pink and glistening with a sheen of sweat, and his come is the last garnish on the eye candy that is Kirishima’s orgasm.

Bakugo would’ve come anyway from how tight Kirishima’s clamping down on him, but just the look of ecstasy on his love’s face pushes him over the brim. He buries himself deep inside Kirishima and grabs one of Kirishima’s hands on his face for support, burying it in the mattress. He rides through the demanding orgasm that commands his entire body, his hips continuing to snap forward because of the aftershocks, causing even more oversensitivity to torment his body. He feels the ends of his hair singe from how hot he’s burning, and he’s afraid that the intense orgasm will lead to him burning down the apartment.

“Fuck!” he growls, using Kirishima’s lips to silence himself.

“Katsuki, Katsuki…” Kirishima pants, trying to separate from Bakugo’s kisses. “I love you…”

The two men stay there for a few more moments catching their breath, Bakugo long since collapsed on top of his redhead. Their chests rise to meet each other, their skin sticking together like glue. Their hands are still joined together, making a nice imprint on the mattress. Everything about them is joined together.

Somehow, Bakugo finds the courage to push himself off Kirishima and pull out. Both men hiss with displeasure, the loss of warmth on Bakugo’s end and the loss of fullness on Kirishima’s end. He carefully rolls the condom off him and ties it at the end, tossing it in the trash and flopping onto his back. Kirishima immediately saddles up next to Bakugo, tossing a leg over Bakugo’s hips and laying on his chest.

“Thank you,” Kirishima mumbles, giving the skin underneath him a kiss.

“For what?” Bakugo asks then laughs. “For giving you the best night of your goddamned life?”

Kirishima laughs and hardens his fist to punch Bakugo playfully on the chest—delicately enough to not scar, but hard enough to hurt. And it does: it elicits a great yelp of pain from his boyfriend.

“No. I mean, yeah, but—I mean, there will be other nights—ugh, that’s not what I’m trying to say.” He props himself up on his elbow to look Bakugo directly in the eye, unhardening his fist to slide it up to cup his boyfriend’s cheek. “Thank you for understanding. For not making fun of me. I…” He sighs. “I regret not talking to you. I’ll always regret that. But I just wanted to make you happy and being rough seemed to make you happy. So, I went along with it.”

“Eijiro—”

“Let me finish,” Kirishima stresses. “You didn’t force me. I liked those times. But this…this is different. I’ll tell you what I’m in the mood for. I will let you know.”

Bakugo’s eyelids are heavy with fatigue, but he nods and runs a hand through Kirishima’s damp hair, shaking the hair into his boyfriend’s eyes with an amused smile. “Okay, babe. Just don’t pull that shit again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Kirishima says. “Manly men don’t break their promises.” He winks before relaxing back into his boyfriend’s side. “I love you.”

Bakugo snorts and drapes a lazy arm over Kirishima’s waist. “I love you, too. Idiot.”

They’re both drifting off to sleep when Kirishima whispers, “Who would’ve known you’re just a big ol’ softie for lovey dovey sex in the end.”

Bakugo stares at the grinning redhead through the darkness.

“Ow! Okay, I get it, sorry! Stop burning me!”

…

When Kirishima awakes, Bakugo’s already left for the early shift he picked up from Ingenium since he’s sick. When Ingenium’s sick, that means something is really wrong with him since that nerd always clocks in, even if he has to wear a face mask because he’s hacking up his lungs from the flu.

He stretches his arms over his head, delaying the inevitable: the sharp pain in the ass from sitting up. He’s woken up with this pain one too many times, so he turns to slip off the bed instead of sitting up. However, out of habit, he sits on the edge of the bed to stand up, and he almost misses it before he stands up. His ass is fine. He has no pain. He feels nothing. It’s almost as if they didn’t have sex last night.

Did they? Yesterday feels like a fever dream, but that doesn’t make the fact that he feels no pain after sex any less real. He stands up, almost as if testing the waters, and walks around. No pain. He slips on some boxers, which includes lifting his legs, which also elicits no pain. He sits down on their ottoman. No pain. He gets in the shower to clean himself up, pressing his fingers inside himself. No pain, other than the usual sting from going in dry. No throbbing, no swelling, no puffiness. Nothing.

No more pain.

Kirishima has successfully had sex without needing to call in sick afterwards. And he’s ready to celebrate.

He cooks himself a giant breakfast fit for a king and goes out on patrol with a grin so big, it startles a few children. He knows his coworkers know that he got laid, but they don’t know why specifically he’s so happy about getting laid. He can actually walk. And use his Quirk without a flare-up of pain in his lower back. And he doesn’t need to worry about bruises or hickeys to cover up. Mina sees his joyful demeanor and tries to “accidentally” wipe away the concealer on his neck as a joke, only to reveal that there’s nothing to cover up.

“Did you even have sex?” she asks, and Kirishima gleefully nods.

“Yep.”

Mina’s eyes snap open. “What? How are you standing? Why didn’t you call in sick?”

Kirishima smirks and shrugs. “No pain.” He winks at his pink friend and throws her two finger guns. “I worked it all out.”

Bakugo, on the other hand, is suffering from taunts from everybody in his department. He has a relatively conservative costume compared to Kirishima’s, but his shoulders are still exposed for all the world to see as a spectacle. Kirishima made sure of that. They’re tattooed with angry red scratch marks, and anybody can see that they lead to a maze of many more rows underneath his shirt. Bakugo can’t even think of an excuse. Yes, a villain is an obvious excuse, but with how airy and normal he’s acting at the agency, anybody can infer what happened. He’s blowing up a lot less and isn’t using his Quirk on innocent bystanders to intimidate them.

“You should get laid more often,” one of the Pro Heroes in his agency mutters under his breath, and in return gets his eyebrows singed off.

But it’s true, and Bakugo can’t deny it. When he gets home, he finds Kirishima on the bed sitting back on his heels, his eyelids heavy and his sharp teeth tugging on his bottom lip in a smirk. He takes full advantage of the fact that his good behavior at work earned him a day off and that Kirishima got a day off from so efficiently handling villains by making love to his boyfriend all night. When Kirishima wakes up the next day to reveal, yet again, that he has no pain, he can’t help himself to a morning lovemaking session as well. And the cycle continues.

Eijiro Kirishima likes sex. Keyword: likes.

#my hero academia #mha smut #mha #mha bakugou #mha kirishima #boku no academia #boku no hero academia #my hero fanfic #mha fanfiction #boku no hero fanfic #kirishima smut #bnha kirishima #kiribaku #bnha bakugou #bakugou smut

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coconut-cluster · 4 years ago

Text

the alcove fic :) im sorry for the weird intro, but i promise (i hope) it’s worth it - if you want a small intro to what exactly led to the alcove scene here, here’s a lil description!! i will go in and add a better beginning to this when i have time, probably this weekend, but for now, enjoy ;)

“Frankly, Oliveira, I don’t want to be this close to you on a good day.”

Logan raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Are you kidding?” he said, his mouth quirking up into the smallest of crooked smiles, and Janus’ haughty air faltered. “We get closer than this when we argue, Peters - and judging by the way you love to start arguments, I’d hardly call that a bad day for you.”

His gaze flickered down to the small space between them, less than a foot, and when he looked back up to Janus, there was something far too knowing in his eyes, and far too smug at that. “Unless it’s not the arguing you’re worried about.”

And before Janus could retort - and retort he would, even as the comment took him aback - another door fell shut somewhere, and immediately, they both went completely silent, holding their breath as footsteps rang out down the hall.

Slowly, carefully, Logan turned around and leaned forward, just enough to see past the corner and down the long hall.

“Is that them?” Janus whispered, craning his neck before quickly ducking back into the alcove.

“I think so.” Logan leaned a little farther around the corner, squinting into the darkness; he could just make out the shape of a person, trudging down the hall with a cage at their side, glinting dimly under the slivers of moonlight that broke through the windows. “Oh- oh, they’re coming this way.”

“What?”

“They’re coming this way,” he repeated. “Like, down this hall.”

“Oh, fantastic- what, are we near a lab or something?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t exactly have time to check every room we passed, Peters-”

“Okay, okay, that’s fine. We’re fine- we’ll be fine, as long as they don’t pass by us.”

Logan stared down the hall, frowning as the figure showed no signs of stopping, and asked, slowly, “And if they do?”

“Depends,” Janus raised an eyebrow. “How unhinged would you say herpetology students are?”

Logan turned back to him to give him a weird look. “I mean... fairly,” he said uncertainly. “I would assume, anyway. Most STEM majors are sleep deprived and carrying a pretty large workload-”

“In that case, I’d suggest you think of a plan quickly if we don’t want to be jumped by a kid who studies lizards in their spare time.” Logan shot him a reproachful glance. “What? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be a little embarrassed by that.”

“I don’t think that would be our biggest issue-”

“Plan, Oliveira,” Janus hissed. “Before I think of one you won’t like.”

Logan’s mouth snapped shut, indignant but obedient, and he peeked around the corner again, drumming his fingers against his leg faster as the footsteps got closer by the second. This kid walked fast.

“I don’t know,” he said at last, hesitating more than he would care to admit. (Janus was right, in a way - it felt ridiculous, to cower in an alcove against a kid with a newt, but the nagging threat of being caught, of being accused of God knows what, trespassing or breaking and entering or- or whatever else this kid could think up - it made him nervous. It made him nervous, to be at a loss. Damn this newt.) “I don’t know. They’ll definitely see us if we stay here, but they’re too close for us to run without being caught - in layman’s terms,” he winced as the clattering of the cage rang out far too close to their spot, “we’re screwed.”

Janus stared at him, jaw set. “So my turn for a plan?”

“It would seem so.”

“Alright, Oliveira,” he said slowly, deliberately, and he took a step up, a step closer in the tight space between them - Logan glanced at him and found his gaze linger, because Janus’ eyes, just inches away from his, glinted something unreadable under the dim moonlight that found them in the alcove. Those eyes darted to the figure down the hall, then back to Logan’s, and Logan felt his breath hitch. “Care for an argument?”

And for a brief second, they were silent. For a brief, suspended moment in the alcove, only inches and the question between them, they just stared at each other, holding their breath as still as the air around them. Logan wondered, for a split second, if Janus could hear his heart start racing. If he would hear Janus’ doing the same if he listened. For just a second, the world stopped.

And then Janus’ gaze flitted to his lips, and Logan threw stillness to the wind.

In an instant, he took Janus’ face in his hands and closed the distance between them - Janus made a startled noise in the back of his throat that died as soon as their lips met, melting into a sigh instead, and Logan didn’t take the time to analyze his relief as Janus’ hands found his waist and pulled him closer.

The clatter of the cage and clicking of footsteps disappeared beyond them; it was just the feeling of Janus’ flushed skin beneath his fingers, the brush of his hair as Logan’s hand shifted to the nape of his neck to kiss him deeper. Janus reached up and tugged him closer by the collar in response, smiling against Logan’s lips when Logan pushed him a step back, flush to the wall of the alcove, and it was maddening and addicting and exhilarating all at once, a feverish mix that made his thoughts halt and heart race.

Logan knew, deep down, that by all means, he shouldn’t be enjoying this. He harped day and night about how much Janus annoyed him, how often they were at odds, how infuriating his smirk and touches and teasing always were; shoved into the alcove with him now, Logan should be indignant at the course of action they’d taken - and maybe it was just Logan’s frenzied mind filling in details for him here, supplementing the little details he’d picked up over time in the absence of clear thought - but Janus tasted like clementines and honey and something intoxicating that flooded his senses and pushed Logan to kiss him deeper still, and he found indignance was the furthest thing from his mind.

For second - a quick moment to catch their breath - they broke apart, still close enough to hear each other’s breaths; Janus hooked an arm around Logan’s neck, his other hand on Logan’s chest, and Logan took his waist, oddly itching to lean forward and kiss him again. As if he could read his mind, Janus gave him that wicked smile. He went to say something, and just as Logan went to cut him off by bringing their lips together once more-

“What are you two doing here?”

Logan leapt back like the voice was an electric shock, hard enough to knock his head painfully against the opposite wall of the alcove. The herpetology student - a scrawny kid with flat hair and a coat that looked about a size too small - stood before the opening in the hallway, glaring at them with one hand on their hip, the other barely holding on to the cage where Remus’ newt sat calmly.

Janus stared at Logan for a brief second, as if composing himself, and slowly turned to face the student - Logan noticed him curl his hands into fists even as he forced an all-too-polite smile on his face - and gave them a deliberate onceover. “Can we help you?”

“Yes,” the student snapped. “You can leave. You’re not supposed to be here after ten o’clock unless you have explicit permission from a faculty member-”

“Oh, is it past ten?” Janus glanced to Logan with raised eyebrows, and Logan raised his back, playing along on instinct as the student nodded indignantly. “Our mistake. We were a little preoccupied,” he gave Logan a wink that made Logan’s face heat up, “so I suppose we didn’t notice how much time had passed. We’ll just be on our way now.”

He breezed past the student with a small brush to their shoulder, a breath of a touch that left them straightening their spine and clearing their throat, and they shot Logan a dirty look as he clumsily elbowed his way out of the alcove right afterwards.

“Thank you,” the student said, somewhere between annoyed and relieved. “Please be more attentive next time you, uh...” they glanced between Logan and Janus, eyebrows furrowing at the way Janus took Logan’s wrist a second later, “stay after.”

“Of course.” Logan sent Janus a brief look - what about the newt? Do we just take it now? - but Janus shook his head, just barely, so Logan just cleared his throat and gave the student a terse nod. “Have a nice night.”

“Nice newt,” Janus commented, and promptly dragged Logan down the hallway.

The student’s footsteps resumed behind them as they practically fled the opposite way, heading straight for the bathroom Roman and Virgil had hidden in. Logan’s heart still raced - he couldn’t tell from what, really, running or panic or...

“That was a good plan back there,” he said suddenly.

Janus didn’t spare him a glance, focused on squinting for the restroom sign in the dark. “Eh,” he dismissed with a shrug. “Herpetology students are apparently very easy to lie to-”

“I don’t mean the lying.”

And Janus did glance back at that. He raised an eyebrow at Logan over his shoulder, his quick steps slowing for just a second, his grip on Logan’s wrist slacking, then tightening again ever so slightly. “I know,” he said matter-of-factly, nose in the air. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“...For what?”

“For what? Kissing me is an honor, Oliveira, and not one many get to experience.”

“Oh,” he said stupidly. A second later, he processed it, and the tension in his shoulders released at last, purely out of exasperation. “Oh my- right,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as Janus gave him a smug little smile. “Right, thank you, your Majesty, I feel oh-so-honored to be one of the few.”

“You should - you’re not getting the chance again.”

If he noticed the way Logan’s expression faltered at that, just for a moment, he didn’t show it; he just turned back to navigating the hall, finally letting go of Logan’s wrist to readjust his shirt (Logan’s mind jumped to the fact that he was the one who had messed it up in the first place, though he banished the thought a second later).

And it was stupid, the way something in his chest dropped at the comment. At the way Janus said it so certainly. Foolish, even - it’s not like Logan wanted to kiss him again, of course, but...

...Oh, God. Logan wanted to kiss him again.

Logan stopped in his tracks, let Janus walk on for a minute, because he wanted to kiss Janus Peters again, to grab his face or his hair or his waist and pull him close and taste clementine and honey and feel him smile against it again, and that was absolutely not how rivals were supposed to feel about each other, and oh, shit-

“Oliveira?” Janus called down the hall when he finally realized Logan had stopped a few paces back. “Scared of the dark or something? Hurry up, the others are probably waiting to regroup.”

“Sorry,” Logan called back hoarsely. “Sorry, I’m coming.”

Janus sent him a weird look, but he turned back around and continued down the hall, leaving Logan to force a deep breath. To compose himself. To carefully consider - and reject, mind you - any thoughts of Janus Peters pressed against the wall of an alcove. To fail miserably at all three.

...He was completely, utterly screwed.

#loceit #lexi writes #uni au #logan sanders #janus sanders

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like-rain-or-confetti · 4 years ago

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Request: Ignorance (Volturi Leaders x Reader)

Judging by the atmosphere of the room, something was wrong. You turned to your three mates, skepticism all over your face. "What's wrong?" You asked warily, watching for any changes in your mates faces, even the slightest micro-movement. “Nothing you need to worry yourself about, my dear.” Aro responded with a reassuring smile. Whilst he was convincing, you didn't buy it. It didn’t take long for the thoughts to creep in, a reminder that you had been here before, in this exact situation. A thought rushed through your head but never left. “This doesn’t have something to do with Bella...does it?” You asked. “No.” Aro smiled at you gently. Again, convincing but you noticed the tiny details within each of your mates and those details led you to believe this was a lie.

You felt a pang in your chest, you had been here before. It always hurt to know your mates could and would lie to you again and again. “Why are you lying to me?” You had visibly faltered, hurt etched across your face. You were met with silence at first. “Why would you think that?” Caius responded. “Marcus looks like he just kicked a puppy, you are trying to will me to believe Aro with your eyes alone and Aro has a particular smile when he lies.” "It's a private matter." Aro responded. "A private matter? So of course I wasn't included." You said with a cold smile.

As you began to turn away, Aro responded. "We can tell you later-" "No. It's fine. We all know you won't. Don't let me interrupt." You interrupted him with a forced smile. Marcus was the next to speak. "No, (Y/N), we'll discuss-" Once again you interrupted, if you had to hear their excuses or empty promises again, you’d make Alec take away your senses for good. "No, how about you don't bother and neither will I." "If you want to be treated like an adult, (Y/N), then I advise you stop acting like a child." Caius’ words made you freeze mid-step and your blood boil. So much so, you had no doubt every vampire in the castle sensed it.

You had once made a comment that the three treated you like a child, whether it was the age gap or the fact you were human, you didn't appreciate it. You wanted them to trust you as you trusted them and instead they hid things from you under the pretences that you wouldn't understand. However, you swallowed back your rage, sending Caius a blank stare.

“We have received word from one of the Denali coven that the Cullen’s have created an immortal child.” Aro declared. Caius turned sharply to his brother, clearly displeased that he had revealed the secret. You, on the other hand, looked taken aback.”Bella and...?” You trailed off. Aro nodded. “You’re sure?” You responded quietly. “I saw for myself.” Aro assured you. “We’re about to vote on the situation.Perhaps we could use your involvement.” Aro continued. However Caius was quick to let his thoughts known. "They're human, reckless and don't understand, so why allow them a vote? We know what must be done. We do not offer second chances and this is breaking another law. We cannot cloud our judgement because of (Y/N)."

You used to be good friends with Bella, but that friendship had since fallen away ever since you had met your mates. Although, that was Edwards fault if anyone’s. You’d have likely never met if you hadn't gone to Italy with Bella and Alice. You turned to Caius with another hurt look upon your face. "I...I was going to agree with you." You said quietly. If the Cullen’s had broken the law, then what else could be done? Yet now Caius was treating you like the weakest link, like you’d betray them so easily. You crossed your arms before turning to leave the room. “(Y/N)-” Aro was following behind you in seconds and reached out for your arm but you pulled away from his reach. "Don't touch me." You mumbled, this time successfully leaving the room.

Within a second, Aro was back on his throne with his others. Aro turned to Caius. “I understand your motives brother but you don’t need to be so harsh.” Aro said icily. “I’m not going to dote to them like you two. When it comes down to it, I will say what needs to be said. If either of you did the same, perhaps I wouldn’t be the villain.” Caius shot back. “I’ll go to them.” Marcus said. “Ah yes, Marcus to the rescue from the evil Caius.” Caius scowled. “You do it to yourself, Caius.” Marcus said as he stood up.

You looked up to see Marcus in the doorway of his room, where you had went after the altercation. “Marcus, i’m really not in the mood to do this right now.” You began. “We didn’t want to upset you. We only had your benefit in mind.” "No, you hold me at arm's length and then make me feel bad about it. Like I did something wrong when the truth is you don't trust me enough to even give me the chance." You responded sourly.

Suddenly both Aro and Marcus were behind you. “You’ve done nothing wrong, cara mia and we do trust you. Of course, we trust you.” Aro explained. “We choose not to involve you because it seems, in our eyes, unnecessary stress on you. It’s our job to do this but that doesn’t mean it’s you must endure it.” “It’s not your job to shelter me!” You turned, arguing back. “I’m so tired of this!” “Tired of what, cara mia?” Aro pressed, knowing something else was bothering you.

You tended to bottle things up and eventually the emotions overflow from the even the smallest of changes at times. "I am tired of it being three against one. I am tired of only existing when it's convenient to you. I am tired of making excuses for him and I'm tired with you assuming that I won't leave all three of you!" You said loudly making the two men pause. You had never mentioned leaving before and it had never even crossed their minds on what to even think if you ever brought it up, never mind do. Aro seemed to clam up, his expression unreadable whilst Marcus looked almost terrified. "Don't say things like that! You don't mean it!" Marcus pleaded slightly. You stared at him. You sighed. Once again leaving the room. However only Marcus’ followed you this time. "I'm trying to talk to you!" "I don't want to talk!" You snapped back, storming into Caius’ room this time. "(Y/N), I love you- we love y-" You interrupted Marcus. "Don't say that!" You snapped.

That was your weakness and you loved them more than you could describe but you couldn’t go ignored. They couldn’t wish it away with those three little words. You couldn’t look at Marcus who looked absolutely heartbroken. “You’re pulling away.” He said quietly. “I can see it...you’re pulling away from us.” You said nothing and Marcus left the room.

An hour passed and Caius entered the room briskly, Aro and Marcus remaining at the door. “You two, leave. (Y/N) and I need to have a conversation alone.” “Excuse me?” You responded. "You're angry with me and releasing your anger on them. Be that adult and if you have something to say. Say it!" Caius turned to his brothers. “Get out.” "It drives me mad that you overlook everything I feel and do whatever is convenient for you! And you win! Every time, you always get your own way!" You said almost immediately. “It drives me to madness that I have to be careful with what i say because you assume the worst of me.” Caius shot back. "I hate that you make me feel so inferior!" You said louder, the anger rising in you once more. "I hate that you're so naive you fail to realise that I do this because you mean more to me than anything else! I want you to be happy, I want you to be protected!" Caius scowled. “I hate that you will drag out every situation until you win. Even now, you’re winning!” You argued back. Caius looked at you incredulously. “Don't you understand!? I've already lost! I'm losing you right now! Everything I have ever done is to protect you because if you're gone I won't be able to survive it! I'd rather you hated me and were safe than dead and loving me!" You moved closer, growing exasperated. "Caius, why don't you understand that there is other ways? I love you. I love all of you but everyday it's a tag team against me!" "You don't understand how much of a blessing you are and at the same time how stressful it is to know that any tiny little movement could hurt you!" Caius said flatly. You stared at him and Caius sighed. “You’re so stubborn.” Caius shook his head. "You won't want to hear it." "That's never stopped you before." You responded quietly. Caius sighed again. "I don't want to involve you. I fear that if I do and something hurt you...I can't fix it." “That deci-” "I don't want to force you to make any decisions! If you did, I couldn't live with you hating yourself. So if I did it and you hated me for it, I can live with that!" You were at a loss for words. Dumbstruck by Caius’ words. He had never been so vulnerable with you to actually admit his fears, especially involving you. “I want you to be loved and i want you to be happy. I cannot without a doubt expose you to these things and believe you wouldn’t be affected.” “Caius...” You pleaded, tears welling in your eyes. “I lost my friend for you. i haven’t contacted anyone in months since coming here. Bella was my best friend and i lost her. I gave her up for you. It might hurt, but it hurts more knowing that the three people i gave everything up for, are holding me at arms length.” You took hold of Caius’ arms who said nothing as you continued. “I am willing to face all of that, if it means i have you three with me. I can face all of it. I am willing to face it all if it means i get to keep you at my side. I don't want you hiding things from me, or pushing me away. That hurts more than any of it.”

A blur of black in the corner of your eye catch your attention. Once again Marcus and Aro were at the door. Meanwhile, Caius stared down at you with a surprisingly soft expression. "The truth is that we don't tell you a lot of things...but that doesn't mean we want to hurt you." Marcus spoke up. "Listen," You said softly, tugging Caius' hand and looking over at Aro and Marcus. "You will never have to worry about me leaving. I could never leave you behind." You turned your gaze to Caius, stepping closer to him. "Look at me." You whispered and Caius' gaze shifted. "Never." You promised him. "There have been so many more good times than bad and none of them could keep me from you." You closed the distance with a kiss that Caius was just as willing to return. One of his hands moving to your cheek. Even Marcus couldn't hold back a smile when you reached out towards them, beckoning for them. You broke the kiss to declare. "If you two don't hug me in the next three seconds I will cry."

#twilight #volturi #the volturi #aro volturi #marcus volturi #caius volturi #reader #one shot #oneshot #request

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jusananimehoe · 4 years ago

Note

can u write something for feitan finding scars from self harm on his s/o? he enjoys torture and pain and its interesting to think how hed react to something like that one someone he cares about/loves

This turned into 1700 words, fucking hell, I got too carried away, but this subject hits very hard with me, so hopefully I did it justice. I absolutely believe Feitan is capable of caring, even loving, but it’d be a very different kind of love than what most would be used to.

So, enjoy, hopefully xxx

warnings for blood, blood kinks, self-harm mentions, mentions of general mental health issues.

Also; feel the need to mention that if any of you are suffering in any way, shape or form, my askbox is always open xxxx

How did I get here? You sighed, sinking further into the empty bathtub, trembling from head to toe as shame threatened to drown you, the horrible, but familiar ball of disgust was swirling wildly in your chest as you eyed the door nervously, praying he wouldn’t find you, like hell. You bit down on your lip as the doorknob turned slowly, you’d locked it, though you’d also known it wouldn’t keep him out, when had anything ever kept him out?

You allowed the smallest of smiles as your mind wandered, to all those months ago when he’d first come over your balcony, on the twenty-fifth floor at your apartment complex, eyes a little wild, hair a little windswept, aura radiating malicious intent. He’d smirked at you like some kind of deviant, eyes raking over your form, taking in the way your legs trembled, barely holding you up, enjoying your fear, perhaps a little too much, but gods, he’d looked so beautiful. Had you fallen in love with him in that very moment? Perhaps, perhaps it had been later, with how patient he had been, how willing to take things at your pace he had been, the space he had given you, it had all been such an experience, especially since you were well aware, he was a complete and total sadist.

He’d wanted to hurt you, you knew he wanted to hurt you, even to this day, and sometimes you even went willingly, more often than not these days, it was you who went in search of him, desperate to feel the stinging bite of his whip, or the wet, burning pain of his claws raking through your skin, like butter. He’d been more than willing to oblige you, of course, losing more and more control as you gave more of yourself to him with every passing day. You were grateful, you realised, laughing softly at the absurdity, grateful that he’d stolen you away in the middle of the night, and locked you up inside this place he sometimes called home, to be his own personal little toy, but what a life it had been so far.

And now I’ve ruined it all.

You whimpered softly and hid your face, pressed firmly against your knees as the door opened slowly, allowing the dark-haired man to slip inside without a sound, eyes locking on your form instantly. You couldn’t see his eyes burning into you, but you could defintley feel that loaded gaze, and a tremor racked your body as you sniffled quietly. It had been a moment of weakness on your part, a lapse in memory of exactly why you had always been so careful, though he’d seen you stripped down on many an occasion, you’d always dutifully covered the hideous marks up with the make-up that he’d supplied you with when you’d asked. The shame that wracked you now was deep, all encompassing at your own stupidity. He’s going to throw me away, no doubt about it

The scars on your legs had not faded over the years, mostly because you were a repeat offender, despite trying to get help multiple times, nothing had really ever made a difference, and you had tired of people always looking down on you, with their pitiful eyes, “oh but we understand what you’re going through”, or, even better, “why would you do something so revolting to yourself”? The scars had eventually just become a normal part of your body, and since you were too riddled with anxiety to ever really connect with anyone, they’d never been an issue, until him, of course. You’d been tired, too tired to remember your morning routine, and now here you were, hiding in a bathtub as he walked slowly towards you, you fought the urge to cry, or laugh at how pathetic you were.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The smallest ones were just pale lines across your upper thigh, the worst, the ones you had done in your most extreme episodes of self-hatred, were raised, bumpy, purple lines, that stood out a mile away, and you shook and cried quietly at the thought that he’d seen them, ghosted a finger over them, even, before your mind had screamed the realisation at you, which, in turn, had led to your very undignified bolt from the bedroom you’d recently begun sharing with him.

A soft touch against your throat had you shivering and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, will he just get rid of me, or maybe even kill me? The gentle finger trailing down your neck forced a tiny little whimper from your throat, and a low growl rumbled from his chest in response as he swung into the tub with you, landing silently, to sit behind you. His hot breath on your ear had your eyes fluttering as he pulled you back against his cool chest, hands gripping tightly at your thighs even as you made a choked noise of distress at the action. A hot tongue ran slowly over the sensitive skin along your jaw, and you gasped quietly, leaning into him further as his teeth bit down harshly, eliciting a shaky little groan from you as you felt something wet dripping down your neck. His tongue ran over it instantly, shuddering as he cleaned the stinging wound carefully, nails drawing slow circles over your scarred skin even as you watched shakily.

He nuzzled into your throat then, and you turned slightly, before finally lifting your head to meet those eyes you loved so much, shivering at the intensity you found there, shivering when he leaned in to claim your mouth in a slow kiss, tongue surging forward into your mouth as he pulled you closer, tugging you around to straddle his slim waist, nails turning to claws, digging into your hips with a grin as you groaned against his hot mouth, shuddering against him as he clawed at your skin, slowly, with patience, and a care you knew he showed only to you. His eyes burned as he gazed down at your soft figure, eye twitching as he battled with his own self-control, tongue swiping over his lip as he squeezed the bloody claw marks.

His eyes snapped back up to your face then, and seemed to read the uncertainty there, the indescribable terror, at the thought of being abandoned by the only person you’d ever met who seemed to understand your need to be punished, to be hurt, to be pushed to the very limit of consent. His forehead touched yours gently, stormy eyes locked on yours as you breathed him in, comforted by the tangy smell of copper and blood that clung to him, strange to others, comforting to you. You bit your lip and took a risk, eyes flicking down so you didn’t have to see his reaction.

“I’m afraid that if I let you see every side of me, you’ll be disgusted”, whispered so softly you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear it, but judging by the tightening of his grip, the way his claws dug further into your supple flesh as you shivered, he’d heard you just fine. A warm mouth pressed against your jaw then, before moving up your face, across your cheeks, over your nose, pressing against your mouth, before tangling his tongue with yours again, slowly, like he was mapping out the inside of your mouth in intricate detail, leaving you gasping against his mouth when he finally pulled back to look at you, expression unreadable.

His eyes fluttered, his mouth turned down in a slight grimace before he opened it slowly, “I-“, he cut himself off, appearing frustrated by his inability to find the correct wording, his left hand moving up to card his now soft hands through your hair, lost in thought for a moment, considering carefully as you waited with bated breath, body trembling against him even as he tugged you closer, hands running up and down your arms to address the little bumps now appearing on your skin, when had it got so cold?

“I-“, he began again, still looking a touch uncertain as he tilted his head, eyes focusing on you with a seriousness that knocked all the breath out of your chest, “I-like-broken-things”, he managed to say, voice as monotone as it always was, and yet, you could feel the sudden emotion behind it, his desperate desire to get this right. ” Find-them-interesting”, he continued before shaking his head swiftly, looking annoyed with himself, “beautiful”, he amended quietly, “find-them-beautiful”. You trembled, nose brushing against his as your pressed closer to him.

“Maybe-that-is-why”, he began slowly, face scrunched in concentration, eyes a little wider than usual, “why-i-find-you-beautiful”, he finished, averting his eyes instantly, clearly uncomfortable. You shivered, arms trembling as you sat in his lap, hands running slow up and down his bare chest, eyes wet with unshed tears as you took it all in, he wasn’t leaving you. Your mouth found his a moment later, nails digging into his back and raking down his skin as he hissed underneath you in pleasure, claws returning to your hips again.

He claimed your mouth hungrily as you ground slowly down against him, moaning loudly into his mouth as he grabbed your ass, sharp claws breaking the skin with ease, pressing hard enough to leave a scar, for sure. “Only-me”, mumbled against your bare shoulder as he bit down, hard, drawing a desperate little squeal from you as you tugged on his dark locks pleadingly. “Only-I-hurt-you-now”, he finished before biting down viciously again, groaning as the taste of blood filled his mouth.

Your head collapsed against his as you trembled and gasped, body like a live wire against him as you went boneless, too enraptured in all the emotions, all the pleasure surging through you to really pay much attention, though you forced your brain to form a coherent sentence, knowing he’d be expecting a confirmation.

“Yes”, whispered softly against his hair as your breathing grew more laboured, “yes, only you”, enjoying the contented little hum against your stinging shoulder as he smirked slowly against your bloody skin, already bruising a dark purple under the sharp bite of his teeth.

“Only you, Feitan”.

#feitan #feitan x reader #feitan smut #feitan portor #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh #some fluff maybe #slightly soft feitan #but not really #fluff #smut

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hardkuna · 4 years ago

Text

asmr

› 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

› 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚍𝚘𝚖/𝚜𝚞𝚋 𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜. 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔. 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊 𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘.

› 𝟸𝟼𝟻𝟸 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜

You’ve always had a fascination with sounds and movements. The gentle rustle of a bag being rummaged through often sent a delicate sensation over your scalp, for example. The sensation was similar to fingers ghostling along your hairline, trailing down the back of your neck and continuing down your spine. If the sound or motion were specific enough, goose flesh would prickle your skin in its wake. With it came serenity - a peacefulness that helped lull you into sleep.

Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response, or ASMR, is what it was called.

There were, however, some sounds that sent your nerves into a short circuit. Sometimes hearing them would break any attention you’ve devoted to another task, making your thighs squish together ever so slightly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fantasize while listening to the gentle hush of whispers or the light clicks of a tongue over saliva. The sharp trickle of consonants commanded a strum within you in ways you couldn’t fully explain. You’ve tried with previous lovers, asking to wear headphones and lose yourself in a soundscape, but would come to no avail. Many didn’t understand the interest in the first place, let alone sexually.

That was until you met Sakusa.

(Like yourself, he was one to binge video after video of audio, especially while in a crowded space. He didn’t get the same physical response but it did calm him down and distract him in the ways that only ambient, repetitive noise could.)

There were many nights where you’d lay in bed with headphones in and that particular sound would wrap warm tendrils along your senses. The caress on your spine made your muscles twitch with each subtle click. Sakusa often felt the gentle sway of your hips as you rubbed your legs together in a feeble attempt to rid yourself of the ache between them. Or he took note of the way you take shallow, shaking breaths, struggling to keep your lungs in control. A dry swallow peppered here and there confirmed his suspicions.

One night, Sakusa decided to find out just what was on your phone to make you so aroused. As he reached over you, nudging your phone screen up, he saw it. An asmr video put on repeat of someone speaking closely into the microphones. They moved from side to side, lips moving in ways unread. He hummed to himself, settling the phone back down. One long arm wrapped around you as he tucked your body into his.

All of it was quite baffling. Why wouldn’t you just tell him that something as mundane as mouth sounds or whispering turned you on? Originally, he wanted to refrain from caressing your form until you brought it up to him. He wasn’t in competition with anything. So long as it made you cum, what did it matter to him what you listened to? But then he recalled the stories. One of your ex’s who belittled your interests. Weaker men, truly.

With a plan in mind, Sakusa came to a resolution.

Thumbing through youtube, you aimed to find the perfect video to sleep to. Your back leaned into Sakusa’s chest, comfortably forming to him. There was a peculiar expression he wore, upper lip pursed and brows slightly furrowed. Defensively, you hugged your phone to your chest, cheeks puffing out, “What? What’s that look for?”

“I can do better than them.” His voice vibrated within you, deep and gravely, triggering a sudden chill to lick your core, freezing you in place. The ravenette craned his neck so that his lips rested next to your ear. He let out a little sigh and a small ‘tt’ sound of his lips separating flushed your cheeks.

He scrolled through the videos with you, making small noises as he’d stop at one to read the description and move on. The thing about Sakusa’s hands was that despite the thickness of his lengthy fingers, they moved with a fluid grace. It was bewitching, the smallest sense of comfort and tiredness inching its way into your periphery. Visual triggers were a very specific spell to cast on you.

Small and hushed, you questioned, “Do better in what? Against who?”

Not that you could see from your vantage point, but you could hear the way his lips pulled back into a smile. Or was it a smirk? “Do better at turning you on. Fucking you,” The syllables swam laps around your left ear. His voice dipped and crackled in just the right way to make your back twitch against him at its call. At the first long release of air form your nose, he pulled the device from your fingers and set it at the night stand. His chest pressed you forward as his muscled arm reached for the light, tapping it to the lowest dim.

The hand now found its home at your mid-thigh, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the bare skin as it danced up, up, up. It pressed on the fabric of your panties at the hip, dragging it slightly before letting it go, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” He dropped his tone to a whisper, practically pressing his lips to your ear, “How every night you’ve been denying yourself a simple satisfaction?” The hiss of the ‘s’ and click of each consonant triggered your body to move. You pressed into him, crossing one leg over the other in a squeeze.

Sakusa kept speaking, but of nonsensical words made up of nonsensical syllables. His own breath was heavy, lust lacing each sound as your body rhythmically rolled into his. By the redness in your cheeks and the effort to restrain the swirl of your hips against his, he could tell you were trying to be good for him. It was amusing to see how flustered you got that such simple sounds could make you react in this way. He tsk’d thrice, large palm slinking to and then sinking into your inner thigh. Fingers wrapped hard into the flesh, pulling your leg away from its cross.

The motion alone would have had your cunt clench at nothing, but paired with the low lights and entrancing quality of his tone, you were dripping in anticipation. To make matters more complicated, the arm underneath you began to wrap around. He pressed heavily into your breast and let the warmth of his palm be the only signal for you to tilt your chin up for further purchase of your throat.

You were trapped into him, feeling his cock harden through his sweats at your back. Sakusa muttered into you, “Is this what you’ve wanted?” He hooked your leg around his, propping you open for his fingers to prattle up to the lining of your panties, “For me to whisper close to you? You’ve held back from me, baby. I don’t like that.” The fingers around your throat squeezed at the words and you bit your lip to cage the mewl threatening to leave them.

His forearm pressed into your chest, keeping you locked into place against him. He made it damn well apparent that you were in his control. And god you needed him to stop fucking around! The way he teased with a single finger, so lightly slipping up and down your slit was torturous. Sakusa let a low groan out as he rocked his hips against your ass in time with each teasing slide. He loved the desperate pulse of your heat every time he passed the entrance. He adored your high whine when he just barely touched on your puffy clit. Your body ached in wanton need and suddenly you regretted every night you went without being filled.

Weakly, your left arm wandered up so that dainty fingers slid into black waves lapping at the sands of his neck. He planted a small kiss along your cheekbone. With a bit of a devious streak, his lips carried back to the shell of your ear, where the tip of his tongue languidly traced the curve. His fingers nudged away the fabric of your panties. The pad of his index made circles against the quiver of your entrance. You shuddered in response, mouth opening just enough for a drawn and annoyed moan to escape, “Saa- ah!” The first breath you took, he pulled his finger back, slipping over the nub of nerves begging for his attention. Your sharp change in pitch was music to his ears. An instrument for him to play a tune of pleasure.

All the while, he continued to mutter nonsense into your ear, drowning you with the sounds you craved to engulf you. Your mind swam at each sense slowly being taken by him. His voice filling your mind with filth and praise. His body pressed so tight against yours that his warmth overpowered your own. Even your hands grasped at whatever surface of him they could find. Your existence was Sakusa Kiyoomi. Just how he wanted it to be.

Pleasure snaked into his insides with your grinding hips, his own following their rhythm. Cock twitch angrily, jealous of the finger that swirled still at your entrance. His lungs caught as the sticking sound of slick weeping onto his hand echoed. It was a gentle sound that he wanted to push farther. This was barely all his effort yet.

For as much as Bokuto or Atsumu could brag about getting their lovers to cum as fast and as many times as possible, Sakusa preferred the long and arduous route. He wanted begging. He wanted you so frustrated by your own desires that you couldn’t think of anything other than his cock stretching your gummy walls. He could rut you out from the start, but the way you drew his name out when you were at a breaking point was sheer decadence.

Sakusa was enamored by the beautiful glass sheen of your eyes as he agonizingly pressed the tip of his finger into your heat. You blinked a frustrated tear that clung to your lashes, lips prettily swollen from the abuse of your teeth. You were close, but stubborn. His own sex ached to be in you, his mind caught up in the fantasy of it. He growled, “How do you manage to stay so quiet when you’re swallowing up my fingers? I want to hear you. U-use your words, brat.” His brows twitched as the satisfying throb of you against his fingers.

Frustrated grappled with the words. His composure was crackling. Your mouth fell open at his admission, mind beginning to fog as his finger pressed fully into you, “Oomii,” your whine was throaty, barely squeezing past tense vocal chords, “just, ah- I want- your cock!”

“Where, baby?” The words were made in efficient haste. He would have chuckled when your hips roughly rubbed into his had he not been throbbing to be in you so urgently.

“In me. Now. Please, please,” Your pleading repeated into muddled huffs as his thumb drew circles on your clit. That was the last straw. Desperation drew your hand from his hair and to his pants. Your back arched to accommodate the room as you slinked your hand through his waistband to pull his length out.

In a succinct motion, you wet your hand with saliva, and pumped him twice. A deliciously loud, “Hng!” vaulted past his open lips, which pressed hungered kisses onto your jaw. The hand at your throat now cupped your breast, teasing the sensitive bud in its grasp. His mouth littered violent along the freed and smooth surface. Fingers slipped from your cunt and occupied themselves with your clit instead, tapping lazily, “My pretty baby is so responsive. So sensitive-“ His lips moved along your colored nape.

You shimmied up, aligning him at the entrance and letting go once his tip pressed firmly at your arousal. You couldn’t wait. You didn’t want to wait. Sakusa’s teeth sank into your shoulder. He wouldn’t let you just pull him around. Swiftly, he tugged you on your knees, fingers digging into the crease that thigh made with hip. The tip of his cock eagerly shoved past your twitching entrance. All that teasing, keeping you right at the cusp per his will built to this. Your eyes glazed as your walls stretched to accommodate him. Every small movement felt like a mile slide, sparking fire quick in your core. Legs shook with impatience.

Sure, his composure may have crumbled, leaving behind raw instinct to kiss at your cervix, but he still snapped you back with his movements forward. He still held you up with strong, calloused palms as your legs threatened to collapse. In only a few strokes, your walls clamped down on him, pulling him greedily back for every stroke out. You could feel the nails of orgasm claw its way from your walls to your throat, a beast ready to escape a cage holding it for far too long. Your fist balled the once pristine-pressed sheets beneath you.

Every muscle in your body tense, chaining back what threatened to unleash. Sakusa ran a hand through messied locks, pushing them back to admire the beauty of your blissed out expression. He leaned forward, left hand now entangling in your hair while the right rubbed your clit. He rutted mercilessly into you, a crisp and wet smack then stick filling the four walls around you. You wailed, “C-cum now puh-lease?”

Rough, careful, and managed, Sakusa tugged you onto your hands, leaning over you so only his voice took residence within your mind, “Mhm, but I want to hear you scream.” His breath hitched as you released. Your throat burned with a loud, low, and uncontrolled howl of his name. Every once tensed muscle spasmed so that the only thing keeping you up was the adjusted grip Kiyoomi had on you. From your hair, his arm supported your torso and pulled your back close to his chest in a kneel. He pumped through your orgasm, burying his nose into the crook of your neck as his own body wracked itself free of pent-up pleasure that curled at his stomach. A swallowed hummed filled the space between the two of you as his cock pulsed against your twitching walls, ropes of hot cum coating you from the inside and dripping out as he unsheathed.

Strong arms wrapped around you in an embrace as he flopped onto his back on the bed. Rapid pants conversed back and forth. Reality came back to you in slow pieces, recollecting like shattered porcelain glued by gold. Coming to was always the roughest part, even if the session wasn’t exactly the hardest. Kiyoomi kept his lips on your forehead, deliberately ignoring the sweat trickling on it and the cum spilling onto his thigh and bed. His large hand rubbed circles at your back and in turn, your fingers traced shapes along his chest.

Just as his own mind cleared, he grabbed the phone from the nightstand and clicked on a video he knew you liked. While the audio wasn’t exactly the same without headphones, you both collected your wits to the gentle sounds of wood-surface tapping. When you called his name, peering up through thick lashes, he felt his heart clench. Your voice was soft and filled with exhaustion, “Thank you. I love you. A lot. I mean it. So much.” You cooed at him, mumbling your praise and adoration. He returned each on in some way, whether it be a small “love you too” or a light press of his lips to your temple.

He had a goal to tear down the fear that he’d judge you like the others may have. To you, he not only tore the notion down, he disintegrated it to nothing.

The thing is, Sakusa Kiyoomi, the man who seldom spoke past commands during sex, just devoted an entire session based on the sound of his voice for you.

#🍯.hq #🔩.sub reader #🥯.vagina holder #🔲.vaginal #✊.handjob #⛓.dom-sub #🦦.sakusa #🦦.fic #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi smut

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gwynrielendgame · 4 years ago

Text

Gwynriel one shot

I wrote another fanfic before this one. Each can be stand alones, but I wrote this one awhile ago with the intent that this specific scene happens before the mate bond snaps into place for them. I like the idea of the necklace causing major drama, but I also think Gwyn is a levelheaded person which is where the inspiration for this scene came from. Enjoy!

Nesta had insisted on a dinner party for Gwyn's birthday. Gwyn hadn't wanted a celebration. This day had been one shared with her sister. The sister she had failed. She no longer found this day worth celebrating. She was not worthy of this day. Not without her sister by her side. She found she couldn't deny Nesta though. Not when her and Emerie bounced off chattering excitedly about the night they would plan for her. Even the house flickered with excitement.

Gwyn stared at her reflection. It was so different than what she was used to. She borrowed one of Nesta's more modest dresses for the occasion. It was still much tighter than her priestess robes and showed much more of her collar bone than her fighting leathers had. She left her hair down, mostly to cover the parts of her shoulders that the dress didn't. The final adornment to her ensemble for the night was the dainty necklace given by an anonymous friend.

Gwyn smiled at the memory of Clotho handing her the necklace. Gwyn hadn't realized why the piece of jewelry was important to her. Just that it was. The evening would be fine she reassured herself. She would not allow her thoughts to stray to Catrin. Catrin was gone and she had to accept that. Gwyn stifled a laugh at the memory of previous birthdays. Catrin was a notoriously bad gift giver and even though she knew Gwyn better than anyone, her gifts were never sentimental. One year she got Gwyn a book of songs which would have been wonderful if Gwyn did not already have that exact same book. A book that she had shown Catrin out of sheer excitement when she originally got it.

Gwyn found herself walking up the stairs to the house of wind. She stopped right outside the dining room. She just needed one moment to compose herself. A shadow whipped out as if to alert her of Azriel's presence. She smiled at the shadow before turning to the Shadowsinger. His face was unreadable per usual, but he was staring at her with a new sort of intensity.

"I just needed a moment before the chaos ensues." Gwyn felt the need to explain why she was staring at the door to the dining room. Azriel nodded his head in understanding. He knew better than anyone how overwhelming his family could be.

"Happy birthday Gywneth." He gave his normal smile as he said the words. It was the only smile he gave out. Could barely call it a smile considering it was the smallest upturn of the corner of his mouth. It was enough to ease the anxiety blooming in Gwyn's chest.

"Thank you." She planted a large smile on her face and opened the door to the dining room. She was immediately bombarded by her two best friends.

"I knew that dress would look amazing on you." Nesta smirked. Gwyn had outwardly refused the dress at first. Claiming it would not look half as good on Gwyn as it did on the more petite Archeron sister.

"You look beautiful Gwyn!" Emerie gushed. She looked as though she was going to cry and Gwyn couldn't help but poke fun at her.

"Are you going to cry, mother?" Gwyn's light jesting was returned with an elbow to the ribs.

"We are going to warn you now though, you can't open your gift until tonight. We are all sleeping in the library. I already have it set up for the three of us." Nesta was giving Gwyn the warm smile that always made her feel accepted. She had found a sister in Nesta. Their relationship was different than that of the one with her twin yet it made Gwyn's chest squeeze happily. Her relationship with Emerie was much the same. She knew tonight would be draining and wanted nothing else but to go to her room alone after this dinner. She never could deny Nesta and Emerie especially when they teamed up like this.

"Sounds fun!" She emphasized the words, trying to make herself sound excited.

"Happy birthday Gwyn!" Cassian shouted from where he stood across the room. He lifted his drink to her. Suddenly a wine glass appeared in her hand. She whispered her thanks to the house.

"Gwyn you look lovely!" Feyre walked over to give Gwyn a hug which was ultimately awkward since Nyx was resting on her hip and he just wanted to pull Gwyn's hair. Rhysand appeared next to Feyre. He also lifted his glass to Gwyn.

"Nesta demanded extravagance for you and I couldn't exactly say no. Only the good alcohol for tonight." He sent the priestess a wink. Once again the thought of her sister crowded her mind. Those thoughts were always ready to remind her of what she deserved. Good wine was not one of them.

"Thank you everyone. It means a lot." Gwyn made sure to make eye contact with everyone. She truly was grateful for the effort and she wanted them to know that.

"Well, let's eat." Amren drawled.

Rhysand wasn't joking when he said Nesta demanded extravagance. Her and Emerie had created such a feast that Gwyn couldn't control the shock etched on her face. The item that caught her eye was the fish. Parmesan crusted flounder. It was a rarity growing up the way that they did. Gwyn couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her.

"This was my sister's favorite! When we were younger they served this on special occasions and Catrin would pick it up whole and would pretend the fish could talk." The table had gone quiet. Probably recognizing that any discussion of her sister was taboo. That didn't seem to stop Elain from inquiring. Though Gwyn questioned how much anyone told her. From their few interactions, Gwyn gathered that there wasn't much information the girl was included on.

"Where is she? Your sister?" Elain was genuine. She wasn't trying to be malicious. No one had clued her in and Gwyn couldn't fault her for that. Nesta seemed to think otherwise though. The death glare she sent Elain would have had Amren feeling nervous. The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"She, uh, died." Gwyn didn't like saying the words aloud. They made her feel her lack of control too completely. Elain bit her lip. She was about to respond when Gwyn's necklace seemed to grab her attention. The tension was so thick Gwyn thought she might be suffocated if she didn't try to relieve it.

"What was she like?" It was Feyre who finally spoke up. Gwyn didn't want to talk about Catrin. Not to people who openly judged Nesta for her perceived failings. She looked over to her two friends. Nesta was concerned, but Emerie was giving her such a soft, supportive look that Gwyn responded. She figured at the very least Nesta would never allow anyone to openly judge her.

"She was adventurous and ridiculously beautiful. We were opposites in almost all aspects. We couldn't go a day without fighting. But she was my person. We never really belonged any where, being part nymph, part high fae, we were shunned everywhere. But we always fit in with each other. We always belonged with each other." Gwyn closed her eyes. She was imagining Catrin's face, her smile. Catrin had always been the fun sister. Life was never dull with her. Gwyn was extremely aware that everyone was staring at her. She wished it would stop.

"The mini Pegasus would have loved her." Emerie said. Only the three best friends understood, but it made Gwyn laugh all the same.

"You still would have been the favorite though." Nesta sighed. She had tried to win the Pegasus over, but there was no swaying it from Gwyn's side. Luckily the conversation changed after that. Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta were in a heated debate about which romance author was the best when Mor set a present in front of Gwyn.

"You didn't need to get me anything." A blush of embarrassment rose to Gwyn's cheek. The beautiful female was notoriously bad at gift giving which only made Gwyn more excited to open the gift. If only to pretend it was Catrin giving her the present.

"I promise you, you'll wish that to be the case once you see what's inside." Cassian smirked as Mor rolled her eyes. Indeed, the gift was unnecessary. Gwyn stared for awhile with pursed lips, perplexed, before responding.

"What is it?" Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel howled in laughter while the rest of the table looked amused.

"It's enchanted shampoo. The smell never fades!" Mor looked so excited despite the amusement from the rest of the table. It reminded Gwyn so much of Catrin that it wasn't hard to find a genuine response.

"Thank you Mor. I love it." She sent her a small smile in hopes of appropriately expressing her gratitude for the present. Azriel placed something in front of Gwyn next. She looked at the Shadowsinger with surprise. She hadn't expected a gift from anyone, let alone the most closed off of the Illyrian males. She began to unwrap it when Elain spoke again.

"I hope it isn't another regift, Az. That would just be unoriginal." The words were spoken as a joke, but the intense stare the two shared had Gwyn pausing her opening. Most of the table sent the pair a questioning look. It wasn't until Elain glanced at Gwyn's necklace again did she understand what Elain had said.

The necklace around Gwyn's neck was meant for Elain, but for one reason or another Azriel had given it to Gwyn. Perhaps he actually intended the necklace to be given to Clotho who regifted it yet again to Gwyn. She didn't really mind one way or the other. She decided it didn't make much difference. Until this moment she hadn't even realized the necklace was from Azriel. She allowed herself to wish for only a moment that the Shadowsinger gave the necklace to her himself without it being meant for Elain originally. Now she would admit that the silent conversation between the two of them unnerved her in the slightest. Gwyn allowed a smile to curve on her lips.

"I hope it isn't a ribbon either. I would find that unoriginal as well." The joke did as Gwyn anticipated. Azriel chuckled along with Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie. Azriel hadn't thought of the potential backlash when he regifted the necklace to Gwyn. He had been holding his shadows back all evening. He didn't want his family to know the lack of control he had on them in Gwyn's presence. The second the joke left Gwyn's lips, his shadows danced toward her. He couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't upset. He quickly gained control of his shadows again and nudged Gwyn to continue opening the present.

It was a dagger. Gwyn smiled softly at it. To the rest of the group, it would appear to be a simple gift. It meant much more to Gwyn though than any necklace ever could. Azriel had spent many lessons going over daggers with her. They spent hours talking about different metals and styles and weight distribution. The dagger in her hand was perfect, exactly what Gwyn had discussed would be her preference in a dagger. She analyzed every inch of the dagger before coming across the engraving. She laughed a heartfelt laugh upon reading it.

"I know it's not a sword, but I couldn't think of any other name that best represent you." Azriel was giving Gwyn a true smile. She realized that was the true gift of the night. Seeing how beautiful his face looked when a full blown smile graced it.

Nesta threw her head back in a cackle while Emerie and Cassian groaned at the carving.

"What is its name?" Rhysand quirked one eyebrow while looking at Azriel. What could he have possibly named the dagger to elicit this type of response.

"Silver majesty." Gwyn stood from her chair and swung her arms around Azriel in a hug. It was an awkward hug considering he was still sitting down, but it had her heart beating faster and not all together unpleasantly. Azriel too found that the hug shot a thrill into his shadows. It had them curving around her in a hug as well.

"That is the most ridiculous name I've ever heard." Amren muttered as she gulped down her wine. Gwyn didn't care. She thought it was perfect. She realized in that moment, the dull ache left behind by the death of her sister lulled while the shadows danced around her.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #fanfic #necklace #azriel #acosf #acotar

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gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

Text

Hidden Confessions

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: Hidden in an old trunk, you come across an old and sentimental letter much to Ron’s dismay.

Warnings: mild language, flustered Ron, fluff, kissing

The Burrow had always been a place you and Ron flocked to for the holidays without question, and this year was no exception. It was a place of great welcoming and love for anyone who visited the wonderfully lopsided and magical home. Everything radiated warmth both literally and figuratively, though the winter chill always did have a habit of seeping it’s way through the old floorboards and small gaps in the walls. It always left you to be rather cold.

You found yourself breaking away from the boisterous group in search of a sweater you’d hoped Ron had left behind there, the thought of the soft fabric all too enticing not to give it a look. You made your way up to the very top floor, the old wooden stairs creaking loudly with even the smallest bit of pressure placed upon them. It was a bit of a winding trip, numerous enchanted photos lining the walls in picture frames that couldn’t be more opposite from each other. The various candelabras provided a little bit of warmth, illuminating every surface in a golden glow. It certainly wasn’t a boring walk up, though it was rather lengthy.

You were a bit out of breath by the time you finally reached his room, however, but you didn’t pay it any mind as you walked in. Even with the roaring fire burning in the living room, the house was seemingly too tall and too intricate for the heat to weave its way up there.

It seemed as though everything was just as Ron had left it, not a single thing out of place or taken. It very much still resembled a room that once housed a teenage boy. Quidditch posters still dotted along the wooden planks of the slanted walls, a bunch of old quills sat tucked in a miscellaneous goblet on his desk with a few empty ink bottles and that same old ink stain. A multitude of dusty books that have gone unread lined his small wooden bookshelf along with other little trinkets he’d gotten here and there. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the Chudley blanket that currently resided on your shared bed at your own home. Everything else remained the same. Even the little carving of your initials on the windowsill. He insisted he wasn’t a fan of sappy things, but you knew it’d been a lie.

Your eyes skim over the rest of the room when they land on something that has promise of what you’re looking for, his empty dresser proving to be a bust.

Tucked halfway under his bed was an old trunk, and naturally your immediate reaction was to pull it out. It was heavier than you had anticipated when you lifted it, dropping it to the bed with a bounce and sending dust particles flying into the chilly air in a small cloud. ‘Weasley & Weasley’ was printed on the face of the lid in worn yellow and orange lettering, the paint beginning to chip. A quiet laugh left your lips as you remembered; it was a hand-me-down trunk of the twins when Ron had broken his own after he caught sight of a spider crawling inside it. Needless to say it had taken a tragic and unforgiving tumble from the very top floor of the house.

Eager to find the sweater you were looking for, you pulled down the latches on either side, pressing the small metal button. A middle latch popped open, allowing you to lift the creaky lid and see its contents. It was obvious it hadn’t been open in ages by the way the hinges cracked. A few miscellaneous spell books lay on the very top, one of them being the same potions textbook Ron had regrettably lost years ago. The one that cost him a weeks worth of detention with Snape. He claimed he hadn’t had a clue where it was, that it was still in the classroom, but just about everyone knew better than to believe that. He had to count and recount each and every textbook in the cabinet since he’d insisted it was there.

Just beneath that you spotted a splotch of the familiar red and orange striped knitting you had your heart set on, a triumphant smile gracing your lips. You grabbed the soft material by the sleeve and pulled it from the trunk carefully, your eyes flitting to the cream colored envelope that had crinkled and fluttered to the ground at the quick action. Your eyes narrow as you set the sweater down on the bed, reaching to pick it up curiously. You turn it over in your hands, peeling away the red wax seal.

“Everything okay? You’ve been—”

Ron trails off when he sees you, ginger brows furrowing as he looks between your hands and your curious gaze that had now been focused on him momentarily.

“‘To Y/n Y/l/n’…,” you read out loud, turning back to him with a raised brow. “What is this?”

He only gave you a puzzled expression to match your own.

“I don’t kn—” His eyes widen soon after, and in a matter of moments he nearly leapt forward as a wave of realization struck him, snatching the paper from your hands with reddened cheeks. Not before you caught a glimpse of what was inside. “It’s…it’s nothing!”

You squint up at him in disbelief as he laughed nervously because the way he’d been acting meant it was absolutely not nothing, amusement flooding your expression as you pursed your lips. A flurry of emotions came raining down on him and the sight was very much obvious to you. Nodding, you hum and watch him for a moment more as he fidgets, before quickly stealing it back from him. He was never a match for your remarkable reflexes.

“Love, don’t,” he pleaded, voice adopting a higher pitch.

You quickly evaded the arms that tried so desperately to cage you against him, stepping onto his squeaky mattress. The letter immediately was raised over your head and just out of his reach, and he cringed when you pulled it from its envelope and opened the old trifolded piece of paper.

Ron had begun give up by this point, resigning to the fact that his unsent love letter was soon to be broadcasted back to him word by sappy word by the very same lover he’d written about. His face scrunched in humiliation as he gulped, flushing a deeper crimson as his lovestruck confessions were pulled from the tattered piece of parchment and spoken into the room. He meant every word, of course he did, he couldn’t imagine loving anyone as wholeheartedly as he did you. But this, this was mortifying.

His twenty-four year old self could have worded his feelings far better than when he was seventeen. Hearing his very own words made him wish the ground would open up and swallow him whole rather than to listen to another second of it. He was convinced he sounded much less mushy gushy and terribly absurd when he’d been under a love spell. The tips of his ears were now burning cherry red too.

He remembers the night he wrote it clear as day. He’d been so fed up with watching Cormac flirt with you every second of the day in an attempt to win your affections. It was near maddening to hear it, he thought it should have been him to make you laugh and swoon. It should have been him that made a rosy blush stain your cheeks. So he sat in his dorm and scribbled out his feelings in a rush, no matter how awfully worded, no matter how much of a hopeless romantic it made him sound. He was in love with you, that much was evident.

He’d written anything and everything that came to his mind, trying his hardest not to sound like McLaggen. One after another, the crumpled pieces of parchment were beginning to accumulate around him until he came up with what he deemed to be the ideal version. But then he thought better of it, hastily stuffing it to the bottom of his trunk when he convinced himself it was a one-sided attraction. It hadn’t been touched since then, until now of course.

“I think they’ve called us…for dinner!” He splutters out, trying desperately to divert your attention away from the page before you could get any farther. He grabbed your hand and tugged you towards him, only eliciting a laugh from you. Of course you hadn’t batted an eye at his pitiful attempts at being distracting.

“‘Your eyes shine brighter than any star in the night sky’…” you carry on in merriment, paper still outstretched above your head as he let his hand fall back to his side.

“Bloody hell,” he curses to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he endured your teasing. He felt like a terrible knock-off of Shakespeare at this point, but with much less eloquence and far more cliches stuffed in that ridiculous letter to last a life time or even two. Regardless, he lets his eyes fall closed as he sighs heavily, listening to the love of his life giggle endlessly at said cliches scrawled messily on the paper. Perhaps the more embarrassing part was that he’d once thought it was absolutely brilliant.

He could feel the prickling heat continuing to burn in his cheeks and travel further down his neck, not knowing where to look. Anywhere but you seemed like a viable option to him. Perhaps never showing his face to you again would be even better.

“‘Every time you look at me, it feels like there’s a million butterflies in my stomach’…” you quote, and Ron once again finds himself hopelessly reaching for the page but you only swat him away and take a few wobbly steps back. “‘Your laugh is ever so angelic; you’re my sun, my moon, and all my stars’—”

“Give me tha—”

He cuts himself short as he watches your playfully taunting smile begin to fade and your jovial laughter die down, watches as you slowly lower the letter below your head. The way you blindly step down from the bed as you read out the last line ever so softly, tucking your hair behind your ear so it wouldn’t keep you from reading it.

“You have a hold on my heart, one I’m afraid will never falter. I’m entirely yours, if you’ll have me, Y/n. I love you. I love you.”

Your eyes linger on the very last lines for a few moments as you reread it a couple times over, mouth hanging slightly agape as you let the words wash over you. The entirety of that letter was impossibly cheesy and sweet but that, that was something else entirely. That was something that made your heart flutter wildly in your chest. Even after all these years, reading those very words made you feel like it was the first time they were ever spoken, he always had a habit of doing that. Each time they were declared it gave you butterflies, whether it was quick murmur before work or if it was thoughtfully spoken when you were tangled up and half asleep in the early morning hours. But this left you breathless.

Meanwhile, Ron was beginning to panic at your lack of response. He wasn’t entirely sure why, it’s not like he hasn’t already admitted those very feelings to you a million times before. You’d been together for nearly seven years yet he was still nervous as if he hadn’t admitted it yet. As if he’d actually given you that letter like he intended to and you’d just discovered the way he felt about you.

“Love?” He manages to say, swallowing thickly as he tried to read your expression carefully.

You gingerly fold the letter along its previous creases and tuck it back in it’s rightful envelope, meeting his eyes before you smiled brightly. “I’ve got a hold on your heart?”

He bites the inside of his cheek to hide his smile though his efforts quickly become futile the more he looks at you. It’s impossible to not smile when he looks at you. “Yeah,” he nods, a small laugh leaving him. “Yeah, you really do.”

Your hands settle on his cheeks as you lean on your toes as the envelope spirals to the floor, your lips melding in a kiss that just might have been sweeter than that letter. His arms snake around your waist as he brought you closer, the sweater you thought you needed moments before no match for the warmth blossoming in your chest in the current moment.

“I love you,” you whisper softly against his lips, kissing him once more. You found that the more you did so, the harder it was to stop. “I love you.”

You could feel his breathy laugh puff against your own lips when you parted from him reluctantly, not missing the way he chased you for more adorably as his nose brushes against yours.

“Y/n?” He says softly, tucking his face in the crook of your neck to conceal the bout of laughter threatening to spill.

“What?”

You were beginning to grow concerned a few silent moments pass until you felt his his breath against your skin. He was laughing.

“What would you do if I told you Harry helped me a tiny bit with that letter?” He murmured with a gentle squeeze, his lips pressing just below your ear. He braced himself for the swat you landed on his arm, his laughter ringing out into the small room. “I’m kidding!”

He pulled you back into him by a grip on your hand, the faux offense you held now dissipating entirely as his forehead rests on yours with a soft nudge of his nose. His sigh tickles warmly against your skin and is filled with nothing but content, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiles blissfully. You rest your arms on his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the red hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ron?” You ask after a little while, pressing a kiss to his lips. You wait for his hum before you continue. “Is my laugh really angelic?”

He nips at your nose softly as he chuckles, your laughter mingling in the close proximity. He’d do anything to hear you laugh, to keep you smiling. “It really is, love.”

You’re beaming by this point, your lips pressing to his in a much longer kiss as you lean on your toes. His hand settles on your cheek, thumb brushing over flushed skin as he begins to smile. He nearly swept you off your feet with how he made you feel, and he would’ve kissed you forever if his mother hadn’t actually called for dinner this time. Though he paid it no mind for a few moments longer, basking in the taste of your kiss until his family’s calls was unable to be ignored.

“We better go,” you murmur, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Yeah,” he kisses you again, “we better.”

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @loony-loopy-lupinn @theweasleysredhair @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

#ron weasley #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley fluff #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley headcanon #ron weasley angst #harry potter fic

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honeyatsu · 4 years ago

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Can I Steal It From You? Hitoshi Shinso x F! Reader

Warnings: Spoiler, sorta.

Summary: You and your best friends are playing a game of truth or dare, when someone suggests you do a rather bold Tik Tok challenge on your crush.

A/N:

I got this idea from the Tik Tok trend where you ask to steal someones last name, y’know like that one song but I don’t remember what its called lmao. The first time I saw it was from the Tik Tok user: urghurly.

I haven't creatively wrote in a long time. I’m just trying to get back to it.

Enjoy if you read.

You stood by your friends, Momo and Mina, nervous and shaking looking at the purple haired boy across of the hall where you three were standing. The two girls giggled and nudged you to go on with their dare. “C’monnn y/n, you gotta do it!” Mina exclaimed giving her a shove towards the direction of the boy.

The three of you were playing a game of truth or dare, when Mina scrolled through her phone to find a tik tok challenged, grinning at you saying she dares you to copy the exact challenge: to go up to your crush and ask to steal their last name from them. Your face heated up instantly, knowing that your crush was no secret to them. Hitoshi Shinso, just transferred to class 1-B. You had a crush on him since the sports festival, when he used his quirk on you to get to the next round.

When you approached him after it worn off, your reaction was far from what he expected. You praised him, saying how cool his quirk was and how one day he was going to be a great hero. Since that moment, you saw each other around school and had small conversations, you would often initiate all of them. You tried to take any opportunity you had to talk to him because since that day, you really liked him. Not only was he incredibly handsome, his demeanor was so laid back, unlike many of your classmates, and you saw how hard he worked and how determined and passionate he was to been seen as a hero.

“He is never going to speak to me again.” You groaned as you hid your face in your hands. Mina and Momo couldn’t help but laugh at how shy you were being, considering you are actually pretty outgoing and rarely get flustered this easily.

“You got this, girl!”

Before you knew it, you were pushed and hit something- No,someone.You gulped and looked up and saw him looking down at you, a confused look on his face and a small pink tint on his cheeks. You have never been this close to him.

You could feel your two friends from the back of your head. They were watching, there was no turning back now.

“Hitoshi…” you said looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering and an innocent smile on your face. He gasped as his eyes widened, as the hands he had used to catch you, placed on your shoulders, let out a soft squeeze. Shinso considered you a friend but you weren’t on a first name basis, not yet anyways. He liked it.

“H-hitoshi…what’s your last name again?”

“My last name…L/N, you know it…You basically make it a mission to talk to me every day…it’s Shinso.” He teased back, his calm and cool demeanor coming back as soon as it left.

“Can I steal it from you?”

He stared at you, dumb struck and his mouth open with no words coming out. What was he supposed to say after that? “A-are you flirting with me, l/n?”

Before you could apologize, assuming his reaction was not a good one, a fit of laughter broke your and Shinso’s attention away from each other. Watching Mina approached you and snatch you from the boy, placing her arm around you.

“I can’t even tell who’s more flustered! You two are so cute!” She said with a large grin. Shinso just stared at the two of you, still blushing with a confused look on his face.

You left Mina’s grasped and stood in front of him, looking down as you apologize. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you!” You raised your eyes to look at his face. He’s still blushing. Gosh, he must think I’m so weird for that.You thought to yourself. “I-it was a dare! You see, there was a tik-tok challenge and-”

“Oh.” He cut you off. He was no longer blushing and his facial expression unreadable. Annoyed, embarrassed, and …disappointed? No, that couldn’t have been it.

“I didn’t know I was such an easy target for your joke, l/n.” He moved out your way and started heading towards his class, “see you around, l/n.”

“Gosh, he must hate me.” You muttered to Mina as you two started walking back to your class. “How awkward and embarrassing.”

“Y’know Y/N, you didn’t have to tell him it was a dare. He looked kind of disappointed, if you ask me.”

I most definitely lost any chance I had with him.

Every interaction since that moment was dry. You’d shoot him a smile and wave, he would barley acknowledge you, giving you the smallest wave and barley a grin. You’d go up and try talking to him and he’d dead the conversation before it even actually started. By now it has been a week since that interaction and you’ve basically given up on any idea of confessing to him. In your mind, not only did you embarrass him by having him be the victim of your little dare but you also overstepped a boundary with him. Calling him by his first name unprovoked, not even knowing if he would be comfortable with him and flirting with him when you two haven’t joked like that before.

While you were having your internal crisis, Shinso had his own mental conflict when it came to you. Of course, he knew you were powerful and strong, you were in class 1-A. Hell, he chose to use you during the sports festival because he knew just how powerful and beneficial you were to him. He’s also not blind, you were veryattractive. The way you praised him during the sports festival after he used his quirk on you without your consent caught him by surprise and he took a mental note of who you were. After that, he saw you more often. Shinso was the type of guy who kept to himself really, it was always you going out of your way to speak to him. You two were friends, sort of. He was too busy trying to prove himself as capable and worthy of being seen as a hero, he figured making friends and thinking of others was a waste of time. He had work to do, he had to focus on his goal. But you just kept coming around.

And after your little prank, you seemed to cloud his mind. You took over. Your laugh, the way you smiled, the sparkle in your eyes when you speak to him, the way he felt you nervously shaking as you called him by his first name. All he thought about was how he wanted to hear you say it again. He’s never thought of anyone romantically; he didn’t have the time to. And here you came along, with your praises to him, your attention, and your pretty face he couldn’t get out of his head. He had to settle exactly how he felt about you and what he wanted to do about it.

Walking back to his dorm, he saw you outside sitting on a bench in your athletic wear. You had probably just gotten back from working out.Now or never, I guess.He thought to himself before silently taking the empty spot next to you.

When you noticed him sit beside you, your eyes grew wide and heart started beating faster. He’s sitting so close to me. “S-Shinso.”

He gave you a lazy smile as he slowly turned to you, “Oh? You remember my last name now?”

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or any- “

“Say it again.” He silently said before looking away and blushing.

You blinked a few times, dumbfounded at what he just said. He wasn’t mad? He didn’t feel disrespected by you crossing that boundary with him?

He sighed turning back to face you, looking straight into your eyes. “Ever since then, I just wanted to hear it again. And I couldn’t get you out of my head either. You’re really pretty, you know?”

“I-I’m sorry…you’re not mad? I thought I made you uncomfortable.”

“No.” he left out an airy laugh, “I was kind of disappointed it was just a joke though, why me?”

You took a strand of your hair and began to twist it along your fingers, a trait you picked up on when you got nervous.

It was time to confess.

“I had to do it to the person I have a crush on….” You muttered, still not looking at him and playing with your hair, holding your breath waiting for his response.

If you could only see the dumbstruck look on his face as he heard you silently confess your crush on him. He wanted you to repeat it. You had a crush on him this whole time? When did it start? What did you even see in him? He took a deep breath and decided to make a bold move at this very moment.

He slowly took your hand in his, intertwining his finger with yours. He took his free hand and lightly held your chin, turning your head to face him. “Tell me when to stop.” He studied your face as he slowly brought your faces closer together. Your wide excited eyes, your curious expression, the way your lips were quivering as he brought his face closer to yours.

Your noses were touching.

He was waiting for you to tell him to stop.

You never did.

Your first kiss was short lived, a simple sweet peck on your lips. To your disappointment, he pulled away as quickly as he kissed you. “S-sorry, first time doing something like that.” He whispered to you.

“Me too.”

And there you two sat, staring at each other both flustered and nervous. You had the widest grin on your face as you slowly took in everything that just happened.

“Shin- Hitoshi.” You corrected yourself, “Does this mean we’re….”

He smiled as he gently squeezed your hand. “Yeah, you’re mine now.”

I gotta thank the girls for this one.

#mha #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x poc!reader #hitoshi shinso imagine #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso #shinsou x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinso #my hero #my hero academia #my hero academia fan #my work #my writing

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gguksgalaxy · 4 years ago

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Personal Space | JJK

›› AU: Friends to Lovers ›› Genre: Fluff ›› Rating: PG-13 ›› Word Count: 1.7k ›› Prompts: Small space + First kiss ›› Jungkook Snuggle Drabbles

That time when Jungkook's shower got interrupted.

Rapping your fist against Jungkook’s door, you pull your soft lilac robe tighter around your body. The dorm building’s hallway is cold and you forgot to put on socks. What even is he doing this time of night? It’s just past midnight on a Wednesday, he has a 9am class tomorrow. The only reason that you know this is because you also have a 9am class, and you two usually walk together.

You knock again, louder this time, switching weight from foot to foot in an attempt to stay warm. It’s not like him to not be home at this time. He didn’t even pick up his phone when you called him, because you have some courtesy to at least not show up unannounced at his dorm in the middle of the night. But this was a real emergency and you need him to open the damn door.

Just when you’re ready to knock again, the door opens and your spit just about goes down the wrong pipe. Coughing, you double take Jungkook standing in the door in nothing but a towel—hair and body dripping wet from a shower. Tattoos and muscles on full display, you shake yourself and meet his unreadable gaze.

“You never shower at night.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can even think about what you’re saying. You sound like an absolute fool. Why again is it that you’re crushing on him? Oh yeah, because he’s your best friend who also happens to be the sweetest, most loveable person in the world. And he looks like half a god.

He raises an eyebrow. “You never show up at my apartment at night wearing nothing but a purple robe, either.”

You look down at yourself, cheeks turning red. “I’m wearing something under this! It’s an emergency,” you say, pushing past him so that he can close the damn door. It’d be a nightmare if someone caught the two of you like that.

“What kind of emergency?” he chuckles, flicking his damp hair out of his face. Water splatters everywhere. Jungkook peers down at his own body, realising he's still soaking wet. “You know what, let me finish my shower and you can tell me.”

Jungkook disappears into his bathroom while you make yourself comfortable on his lounge chair. Unlike you, he has a solo dorm. You have to share yours with your friend which is currently the reason that you are here. This is more like your second dorm, even if you can’t remember the last time you spent the night here. Probably before you realised your feelings for Jungkook were getting out of hand.

You remember how comfortable his bed is, how nice it is to just lie cuddled up in it. It’s not that you stopped doing that, but it’s definitely been a while since you slept here. You miss it, but it’s hard to be around him knowing he doesn’t feel the same way.

“So,” he says, exiting the bathroom, shirt still halfway up his chest. The fabric falls down, hiding his chest from view. “What is it you need rescuing from so badly that you didn’t even get dressed properly?”

Sighing, you play with a pen on his desk. “You know that awesome mission where we succeeded in getting Taehyung and Kat together?” Kat being your roommate, and Taehyung being Jungkook’s soccer teammate.

“Yeah?”

“Well,” you mumble, “I think Kat forgot that I was home and when I exited the bathroom I saw things I wish I could scrub off my eyeballs.”

Jungkook laughs, doubling over. “I would say that I can’t believe they would do that but, I know Taehyung better than that sadly. I’m sorry on his behalf.”

You huff. “Can I wait them out here? I don’t really want to go back there just yet.”

Your best friend’s eyes dart to the clock on his desk. “You want to go back?”

“I mean, at some point yeah. I need to get some sleep.”

“Let’s sleep then,” Jungkook states, throwing back the sheets on his bed as if he’s inviting you.

You just give him a look.

“Oh come on, I don’t know what’s been up with you lately. Have you bought an expansion pack for your personal space?”

“What?”

He smiles, walking over to you. With one hand on the desk, he leans into you. Your body betrays you immediately, leaning back, cheeks flushing. “Why are you so shy lately? You never used to have a problem with proximity.”

“I—I,” you stutter. “I’ve just been feeling self-conscious about it.”

Jungkook frowns, sitting down on his chair. “In a bad way?”

“Is there a good way?”

He purses his lips, stilling your hand where you’re tapping his pen. “I hope that it’s not because of something I did? You’re important to me, and I want you to be comfortable around me.”

“Oh.” You think over his words. You’re important to him, but you’ll always just be his best friend. It’s something you get reminded of enough, even Kat has mentioned that you and Jungkook have been awfully disgusting. That you act like a couple, and that you shouldn’t make yourself so obvious. “It’s not that, I’ve just been overthinking everything. Someone said it’s weird that we’re so close.”

“Why would it be weird?” His face holds genuine confusion that edges on a smile. “I know people who are just friends who are way more disgusting.”

Your eyes widen. And so do his the second he realises what he said.

“You know what,” he says, getting up and trying to shake off his previous words. “This is a no overthinking zone. Take off that ugly robe and let's get into bed.”

Jungkook plops down onto his single mattress and you stare at him for a second. He’s not wrong. Regardless of whether he means that you are more than friends—which is unlikely—or just best friends rather than normal friends, there are people who are worse. You shouldn’t overthink being with him. You shouldn’t let your feelings for him get in the way of being with him.

“Fine, because you asked so nicely.” You shrug off your robe and settle down into the bed with him. It’s way too tight of a space for two people, especially with Jungkook not being the smallest person you know. He takes up an unnatural amount of space in a bed. Even when he curls up he’s somehow pressed against you.

He turns to face you. “You’re okay though, right? We are?”

You nod, pulling up the covers. “We’re good Jungkook, don’t worry.”

It takes you five entire minutes to realise that this would be harder than you thought it would be. You twist, bumping into his body in an attempt to find a comfortable way to sleep without being pressed against him. An impossible task.

Jungkook stills you by throwing an arm over your waist. “Can you lie still?”

You snort. “Can you move over?”

“I’m with my back against the wall.”

“I’m with my ass on the edge.”

“Seems like we’re at an impasse. You have no choice but to just scoot over.”

“I could sleep on the floor,” you retort.

He snorts. “Get over here, silly.” Jungkook being much stronger than you, pulls your body towards his on the bed. One of his legs over yours, his hand splayed over your back. Even in the dark you can see the way his eyes shine. You hold your breath.

His expression changes, just barely. Tongue darting out to lick his lips, he seems a little tense under the touch of your fingers against his chest. Your heart starts racing at the proximity. The familiar scent and feeling of him around you. A strange thought passes your mind; What if he does have feelings for you in some non-platonic way?

Before you get the chance to refute that idea, Jungkook grabs your cheek and presses his lips to yours. You let out a gasp, fingers tightening into the thin shirt that he’s wearing. Is he…kissing you? Jungkook’s kissing you. Why would h—

“Stop overthinking,” he mumbles against your mouth, moving his hand to your neck.

You let out a shaky breath. When he kisses you again, all the tension in your body seeps away. You kiss him back, closing your eyes and leaning in. Bodies slotting together, Jungkook twists his body so you lie over top of him, lips gently moving against yours.

His hands tremble, just like yours, where he holds your waist. You’re just as nervous yet you’re overcome with a feeling of euphoria. Finally, after so long, you’re kissing him. Lips moving together, parting and deepening. Just for a moment. Your stomach swoops as you feel his tongue flick over your bottom lip. It ends way too soon.

Jungkook parts, opening his eyes and meeting your hesitant gaze. “I meant what I said earlier.“ He keeps his voice hushed, only for you to hear. The moment is so warm, yet it feels fragile. Trembling like you. “I feel like there’s more to us.”

“I feel that too,” you whisper, almost giggling when he pecks your lips.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay? I really just want to hold you for now.”

You nod, lying down with your head on his chest. There’s so many words swimming through your mind, worries and concerns, but also excitement and relief. After all this time of worrying that Jungkook wouldn’t feel the same, he’s been waiting for you.

With one arm slung over his waist, you snuggle up to him. Finding that familiar spot where both of your bodies are entwined and your mind just relaxes. It’s a safe space. He is. You can still feel his lips on yours—you want that again, but you can wait until tomorrow. For now, you let your lips brush over his exposed collarbone. Feeling him shiver, you smile. Maybe you should thank Taehyung and Kat for violating your dorm. Just maybe.

Thanks to: @yoongs-jeontae Requested by: Anonymous + Anonymous

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