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cultgambles · 4 years ago

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Nearly a Blip in Time

I love historical sukuna so here i am. Also i am lowkey so confused at his story. Like i know he was a sorcerer at one point in history but like when did he get all his arms?? BC according to the wiki he was killed and then became a cursed spirit and then his fingers were waxy (lol weird choice of word) ?? anyway, in this, hes not a people hes a monster.

He’s also OOC. first time writing for JJK, but i wanted something soft hehe. Reader bites the dust

Wc: 3033

Masterlist | Requests? open

“[Y/N], you can’t be serious. No way a person of your . . . stature . . . could research in depth about something as big as Ryomen Sukuna. In fact, I’d wager that you wouldn’t even get within 5 feet of his temple,” the local teacher scoffs, disbelief plain as day on his face.

“You wager? What if I do get within 5 feet, then? Will you take me in as your student?” You cross your arms, staring him down. “Do you accept the challenge? I mean, you said it to begin with.”

The scholar throws up a hand, blowing you off. “Fine, whatever. You have half a year to write an in-depth dissection of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, and you will report your findings back to me at this very hour once your time is up. I expect perfection.”

“And if I win?” You ask, writing down every word he has said.

“You won’t die.”

“And?” You shoot him an unamused glare.

“And I will take you in as a student. God curse your father for teaching you to read and write.”

“He knew it would be beneficial for me. Now, sign here so you don’t try to cheat your way out of this,” you thrust the wood block and paper attached towards him. The scholar grumbles, almost breaking the ink brush in the process of writing his signature.

You carefully tuck the contract under your arm and scurry off, not before telling him you’d be back.

His laughter echoes around you.

At home, your father was amazed and horrified to learn of this deal, but he knew nothing could stop you. You gave him one last hug for the time being and gathered what little belongings you had in a knapsack.

“Don’t worry, father, I’ll be back before you know it.” His warmth lingers on your person, seeping into your bones. You’ll miss this.

Sukuna’s temple isn’t far from your village, in fact, he was revered as a protector of some sorts. Perhaps one quick to anger and that changed on the dime. It was a couple miles up the mountain where the snow thinned in winter and where the flowers bloomed in the spring. You’ve been to it only a handful of times before, once with your father, and several with the other village ladies. A yearly tradition, you suppose.

The temple is always well kept, the torii gates painted a pristine red, the surrounding area swept and neat, no dust to be seen near the wells or on the floor. Some, like the scholar you had made a wager with, merely believed he was a spirit, a demon of imagination. Others, like you and your mother, really believed in his existence. Before it becomes too late, you decide to scope out the area and set up camp a ways away from the temple so as to not disturb him. You briefly wonder if he was here or away at some other village. Would he be wreaking havoc? or be somewhat kind and spare the folks living there? You decide to set up your small camp under the camouflage and protection of the trees, maybe fifty feet from the river. You’d be much happier to stay at home, but the paths could become treacherous for a young thing like you at night. Maybe a little bit of the great outdoors is what you needed, anyway.

Almost a week passes before you ever have the hint of seeing the demon in the flesh. It’s on one of the days where you bring a small offering. Not much since you can’t exactly go home and cook a nice meal every time, but usually a flower crown or other type of decor.

When you do see him, however, time slows to a crawl. You swear your legs feel like jelly as he glances down at you. Sharp-featured and arrogant, beautiful, all man. He stands tall, towering above you. He has to stoop to reach the depths of the temple from the doorway.

“Well, well,” he croons, “what do we have here?” His four eyes are the color of what flows through each being and his canines sharp as knives. Truly, he’s beautiful, sculpted muscles rippling under inky black tattoos, blazing red eyes.

You bow deeply and straighten your shoulders, gaze still downcast to be respectful. “I just wanted to make this offering to you. I know it’s not much, but I hope you will find it useful.” You raise the small gift above your head, feeling his gaze roll over your body, sharp nails lightly scraping against your skin, grasping the wreath.

“Peculiar,” he says. His thumb and forefinger tilt your head up and you struggle to avert your eyes. “What’s your purpose here, little human?”

“I made a bet with the town scholar. I’ve to write about you and return with my findings so I can become a real student there.”

“A student, eh?”

“Please! I’m fascinated by you,” you plead, feeling his grip on your chin tighten.

“I’m intrigued, if only slightly,” he muses, releasing you harshly enough you’re forced to regain your balance.

You soon learn his ego is massive, that’s probably the only reason he spared you. He’d just love something written about him, wouldn’t he? Ever the gracious god, he lets you stay in one of the temple rooms. You had offered to take one the furthest from his own so he could have plenty of space, but he put you up right across from his instead.

Something about you being near to always capture his persona. Whatever.

Life at the temple is never truly boring. there’s always something going on; whether someone bringing gifts, like an unlucky human sacrifice, or some warriors barging in thinking they could actually harm the demon.

Sukuna likes you watching him tear apart these people limb from limb the best. The first couple times you couldn’t stand it, but it soon became a natural occurrence. Sure, you felt bad for those folks, but they never came truly prepared.

“What’re you writing now, pet?” he asks you one day. You glance up at him. He’s wringing the blood out of one of his sleeves, the blood drip drip dripping to the floor in red rain.

“I’ve noticed you like toying with your prey. If you’re in a good mood, you’ll let them think you have the upper hand,” you tell him.

“And if I’m in a bad mood?”

“Slice them in half!” He nods. His black nails gleam in the sunlight and you watch a pair of arms reach up behind his head as a cushion as the other balances to sit next to you.

“I really like how the trees change color in the autumn,” he says nonchalantly.

“Because they’re the color of blood?” you offer. You draw a small leaf on your paper’s corner.

“Maybe. Their lives are so short, unlike mine. Not that I’ve been a curse for too terribly long.”

You bite your tongue. Is it lonely? bounces around in your head.

“What will I do when my little scholar leaves too?” You flush and stammer that you still have a couple months. Sukuna pauses in thought, then, a sinister smirk gracing his lips.

The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s much more bored with life. Killing random people stated his boredom and gave him something to do, it wasn’t until later that he learned to revel in it. The more you got to know him, the more you didn’t want to leave.

He taught you, too. Weird things, usually, but still, useful things. He wasn’t all that good a teacher, but he was patient and expected you to figure shit out on your own. Sometimes he took you down to the market and showed you how to best barter.

And to steal.

Other times, he would sit and watch you cook silently. He always says your cooking wasn’t crap, so you just take it as a compliment.

Six months have passed since you first climbed the mountain. Sukuna finds you in your room packing what little belongings you have.

“That time already?” he muses, leaning against the door. You hum in acknowledgement. “What if they don’t even accept me?”

“Then you’ll return, of course.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

Of course, little did you know, but to Sukuna, that was a command.

He didn’t just watch your figure walk away, no, he followed silently behind, taking in the way you’d stop to study a particularly interesting tree or follow the clouds.

Your village is still the same. Same rickety well, same sunken houses, same sort of dreariness when you left.

You make your way towards the school house, it’s kind of near the back of the village, backed up to the lush forest. “I’ve done it!” you call, standing tall. “Not only have I been within 5 feet of his temple, I’ve been inside. I’ve had actual conversations with the demon Ryomen Sukuna.” You fish out your copious amount of notes and dissertation, shoving it in front of you.

“I’m surprised,” is all the teacher says, “give it here.” You hand him the documents, and he flips through the pages.

“So?”

“So what? For all I know, this could all be made up.”

“What? It’s not! How would I make up his favorite fruit or the way he likes his meat cooked? Papaya and rare, by the way,” you cross your arms.

“Then you should have brought him down with you.”

“You called?” his deep, rumbling voice cuts through the silence.

“S-Sukuna? What are you doing here?”

“I told you, pet, you’d return to me.”

“Sukuna-sama!” the scholar bows. “This is all a misunderstanding, their findings were great! Very convincing!”

“Give them to me.”

“Yes, sir!” he wails, pressing the papers to the other’s chest.

“You didn’t think he would actually keep that bet, did you?” Sukuna asks you.

“Well, I was hopeful!”

“Aw sweet,” he mocks you lightly. “You don’t need to be surrounded by such inferiors. Come now.” It seemed just a snap and somehow the scholar’s head was lobbed off.

You nod dumbly, barely processing what exactly just transpired. Did he kill him? For you? Surely there must be something in it for him.

But the way he holds out one of his four hands for you to grasp sets a fire in your heart. It’s small, no grassland bonfire, but a smolder that you know will become a steady heat.

His hand is rough and calloused while yours only has a few bumps from holding your ink brush so tightly and for so long. Sukuna leads you back to the temple, guiding you back into the room you stayed before.

“Why,” you ask him softly.

He shrugs. “You’re amusing to me. I like the silly words you use.”

“So you like my company?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he chuckles, running a hand over your head.

“Hey! You’re gonna mess up my hair!” you giggle.

“Don’t worry, next time it will be because your head will be atop my bed.” Shameless. Truly shameless. “Just keep writing about me.”

Somewhere in between you returning to the temple and now is when you find yourself tangled in his sheets. Two of his arms wrap securely around your waist and hip, another caressing your cheek. If you’re being completely honest, it seemed as if he adored you. He never coddles you per say, but anything you’d mention off hand, he would remember. An object you wanted, or even that you wanted to take a bath later that day. Sometimes he would even brush out your tangles for you.

You’re surprised by the normality of it all, how he’s gentle with you, unlike others who dare to cross his path.

Waking up together is a part of your daily routine. (Every morning, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.) (You trace the patterns of his tattoos lazily.) You’d ask him about you and him sometimes, and he always responds that he’ll always keep his little one happy, that you belong to him. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s actually being truthful or he’s just passing the time. Maybe the truth is a little bit of both, but you’re happy anyway.

He likes holding you, the two of you sitting by the river in the flowerbeds, watching nature for hours at a time.

Other times, he lets down his walls in the four corners of the temple. Every time he comes home smelling of blood and decay, you drag him to the bathroom and run a hot bath. Your nimble fingers glide through his hair, stopping to pull out leaves and scrub away dirt from his skin. More often than not, he would pull you in with him, your laugh ringing in his ears like bells.

But happiness must come to an end.

Apparently.

It’s a weekday when it happens.

Sorcerers.

They come in doves, feet stomping like drums.

“I guess they’re tired of me wreaking havoc, hmm?” he muses.

“There’s a lot more than usual, are you sure you’ll be alright?” you whisper softly, cupping his cheek.

He holds your hand there, leaning in and closing his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Of course I’ll be fine. You will be too.”

“Okay,” you watch him leave, a familiar aura of danger seeping in like a thick fog.

But it’s not okay.

Someone finds you and they drag you out of the temple by the hair. You’re thrown to the ground harshly.

“What, a little harlot? That demon won’t bother saving you, don’t even look at him. You’re nothing to him,” the sorcerer tells you, pressing a steel toed boot to your throat. You’re gasping for a breath, any.

“Obviously you think I’m worth something since you’re dealing with me,” you struggle to voice.

His nostrils flare, eyes wide. “See you in hell,” he snarls. You’re feeling everything and nothing at once. Surely the wound in your chest as you bleed, but you can’t seem to think of anything good or bad. You’re clutching your wound, sputtering. As if sensing you, miraculously, Sukuna turns in your direction as his fist rips through someone’s chest. Faintly, you hear a roar of anger, and then the screams around you are deafening.

The dozens of sorcerers that tried to defeat Ryomen Sukuna lay at bizzare angles, each in their own pool of blood.

It’s this horrible humorless laugh, his open mouth desperate and hungry like he wants to devour the world in punishment for taking the one true thing he held dear to him. The last piece holding his humanity together. He doesn’t know how you even got out of the temple, that’s definitely not where he left you. You’re staring blankly ahead, but he notices your hand gripping the pendant he gifted you.

Sukuna sighs, kneeling next to you, holding you close to his chest. He doesn’t know what you would have preferred: whether to be buried or cremated, and there’s no point now. Ultimately, Sukuna places you in a bed of flowers. He makes his way back to the temple, stepping around the bodies that litter the floor. Maybe he can threaten some laymen to come clean up the mess.

When he returns to the main room, the first thing he notices is the shelf with all the books you loved. Papers strewn everywhere, pages bent.

Your findings about him on the top shelf are gone.

That’s not something he realizes until much, much, much later when he’s ambushed after terrorizing another village. It’s been years without you, and yet he still feels anger of how you were taken from him. He promised he would protect you, at least, in the sanctum of his own mind, never voicing it to you. And yet, he’s failed.

Your coping mechanisms suck, you’d probably say if you saw him now. But I’ll write it down anyway, and we can cross it out later, if you want.

Like your death, he’s not even sure how the sorcerers managed to defeat him.

His twenty fingers cut up, separated through time and distance. Dormant, for now.

—PRESENT TIME—

“Oi, brat, ask that blindfold asshole what those are.”

“Ask what are what?” his host, Yuuji Itadori quips.

“Over there, on display. The books.”

Yuuji hates to admit it, but he’s curious too. How important are they to be kept here, and in a glass case, no less? Anyway, he hardly ever gets to see cursed objects in the flesh.

“Gojo-sensei! What are those!?” he shouts.

“They’re books, don’t you know what a book is?”

“Okay, yeah, but what’s their use? Like, why are they here?” Yuuji pulls at his hair.

“Hmm, they’re written by a [Y/N]. Long ago, not much information about the author, but the writing is phenomenal. And all about that little curse inside of you,” Gojo smirks, running a finger down Yuuji’s forehead and bopping him on the nose.

“About Sukuna?”

“Pretty mundane stuff, if you ask me. I’ve been told the sorcerers that defeated Sukuna used those texts. Not sure how ‘he hates when food offerings have tomatoes’ was useful, but apparently it was,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Ah, would you look at the time, I’ve gotta go! Pressing matters with a special-grade. And the candy shop I want to go to closes in 30!”

“Later, sensei,” Yuuji waves. “You don’t like tomatoes?”--silence-- “What, no response? You’re suddenly shy now?”

Sukuna hears him, and ignores him as per usual.

So, my little scholar’s books were stolen, huh? Here, all this time?

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gender neutral reader #sukuna x y/n #reader insert

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

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My BFB is the one for me!

juke | human!au + brother!reggie | title from BFB // victorious

If someone had to ask her who the one constant in her life was, she would have to say Luke Patterson. Which was depressing, cause the guy went through life pretending to be a 90s heartthrob and, even worse, that list didn't even include her own mother.

Julie met Luke when she was five and he was six. Her brother Reggie befriended him on the first day of school and the rest was history. "Soul-brothers" they called themselves, which would be cute if they weren't so obnoxious together. Separate, they were somewhat manageable. Put those two in the same room? Chaos would ensue.

He was there for it all. Weekly play dates, birthdays, the occasional holiday, her mom's funeral, band rehearsals. And when Luke had a month-long falling out with his parents, he stayed with them.

Realistically, that should make him seem like a brother to Julie. But neither Carlos or Reggie were as infuriating as Luke was! With the stupid band tees and the stupid smile and the stupid, relentless teasing he lovingly bestowed upon her. She lost count how many times he "poisoned" her soda with salt or woke her with a heart attack by playing his electric guitar. At least she had some grip on her brothers, being their only sister, but Luke…

Luke and her had this interesting, little relationship that she couldn't quite put her finger on and it unnerved her. Like it was an itch she couldn't scratch. (Or maybe he was just an annoying mosquito buzzing around her and should leave her the fuck alone. Probably.)

Hopping down the stairs for her midnight snack, it was no surprise to her to find the idiot gaping into the fridge like a goon. With a nudge of the hip, she pushed him aside.

'Hey!'

'Either pick something or save power,' she retorted, grabbing a bowl of grapes.

He snorted. 'I don't think my indecisiveness is gonna kill the planet.'

She shot him a look, an amused smile tugging on her lips. 'You wanna say that in the cute face of a polar bear?'

Luke stared at her for a beat, a smile crawling on his own face and shaking his head with a chuckle. The fridge fell shut with the pride of a won argument swelling in her chest.

'So why're you still up?', he asked as she flitted around him for the bread and peanut butter. Maybe she could sneak up a butterscotch cookie too - her dad won't notice one missing, right?

Unscrewing the lid, she sighed. 'Mendoza's class is murdering me. I really don't get why we need to learn calculus. We're an arts school, not like any of us are going to use formulas on the set of a movie.'

When she passed him to get the orange juice from the fridge, he took hold of the jar, sliding it between his hands thoughtfully.

'Just don't overthink it,' he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. 'Easy for you, obviously.'

His mouth fell slack, offended, as Julie put the bottle on the island with mirth glimmering in her expression. After years of sparring with Luke, she knew how to press his buttons and took great joy in doing so.

Suddenly leaning into her personal bubble, he sputtered. 'Are you… calling me dumb?'

Her hand pushed his face back with a scoff. 'Don't breathe on me. All I'm saying is that you look like you have elevator music playing up there 24/7.'

When she went to grab the jar from his hand, he moved it away.

'Uh, I think you're mistaking me for your brother.'

'No-' Tried again, moved away. '-I don't think I do.'

'You do.'

She crossed her arms, resolute. 'He's part of the gifted program.'

It unfazed him. 'Yeah. And it means shit.'

She held her palm up, exasperated. 'Just give me the peanut butter, Luke.'

Raising it over his head with an infuriating smirk, the other tugged on a curl. 'No.'

Gah! He was so dead! Did he forget she lived with three men in this house?!

Without a second of hesitation, Julie barrelled into him and jumped to catch it. Luke snatched her wrist before she could with a laugh, a hitched puff coming right after as her elbow jabbed his ribs.

He set the jar down at lightning speed and grabbed her other wrist. Both their arms were outstretched as her foot kicked his calf, hard. When he yelped, her left hand loosened and dove for the jar. Right as her fingertips grazed the glass, a strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back. An "oof!" left her lips, the breath kicked out of her lungs.

Luke guffawed in her ear victoriously, whooping the house together. Curse words rolled off her tongue as she repeatedly slapped his forearm to let go. She felt embarrassingly small with her feet hovering above the floor and this power dynamic was not doing it for her confidence.

'The fuck are you doing?'

Julie smacked to the floor before the last words were uttered, a flabbergasted Reggie staring at the pair.

Luke stammered. 'Uh…'

'Your bestie held the peanut butter hostage,' Julie replied sardonically. 'Did dad wake up?'

He shook his head, a peculiar expression fixed on Luke. Her gaze shot between the two. Were they having… a silent conversation? With the way their brows quirked an lips twitched, it seemed like some "bro-talk" Julie wouldn't even like to understand.

'Don't break your head too much over Mendoza, okay?' Reggie added, smiling at her this time. 'Just relax.'

She sighed. Relax. Because the fear of failure got eradicated with the snap of a finger if she just relaxed. 'Yeah. Sure.'

The boys finally left, silence descended, and Julie made her sandwich. For some reason, the quietude made her uncomfortable.

***

Though Luke was annoying at times, the band he was in - Sunset Curve - definitely wasn't. Reggie, Alex and Luke created it when they were thirteen and overzealous. Reggie and Luke met Alex the same year and bullied him into a friendship, all bonding over cliché lyrics and overused chord progressions. They quickly got better though, earning a small following and a hopeful future in the LA scene. Julie was very proud of her brother. All those hours practicing the bass until his fingers bled was finally paying off with each new gig they rocked.

And as the Molina's were raised to appreciate good music, Julie often found herself sprawled on the leather couch as they rehearsed. Reggie used to hate it, saying she was being "sticky" and "distracting", but eventually found her useful whenever they needed someone to bounce ideas with. She has co-written many of their songs. It was then that Luke was the least annoying, when he was so entranced and passionate about music that he had no time to pester her.

(If she were honest with herself, she'd admit that song-writing with Luke was when she felt like herself the most, enjoyed life the most. But Luke was stupid and she definitely didn't feel a vibe when they wrote, so honesty was obsolete.)

'Or else you'll get,' Luke growled in the mic, music crashing together in their signature punk-rock sound. 'Crooked teeth!'

They shot into an electrifying interlude. Alex headbanging the sweat of his forehead from his fast-paced drumming, Reggie bouncing in his heels as he heightened the bassline and Luke… was being Luke. Julie looked up from her laptop as his strumming came closer, that signature grin fixed on her as his fingers expertly glided across the neck. Her typing paused, amused.

Why was he so adamant about "impressing" her with a riff? He knew she liked their music (and has caught her looking at his hands… ugh, fourteen year old Julie had bad judgement), he didn't have to prove himself or something.

She smiled. 'You're going to miss your cue, idiot!'

Ignoring her exclaim, he bobbed his head to the melody and wiggled his brows. Her eyes drifted to Alex, the blonde staring at Reggie and Reggie staring at the back of Luke's head. This has been happening a lot, Julie realised. There was this weird energy whenever they were all in the same room. For a bit, she thought it was her that was the problem, but if she was, Reggie would've told her by now.

Now Luke was really in her face, pushing her laptop shut with his knee and making those stupid expressions he pulled whenever Grace talked to him in the hallway. Never one to back down, Julie abruptly stood up and pushed him back with a challenging smirk. The boy was seventeen; he was in serious trouble if he lacked the spatial awareness and common sense.

‘Sing with us?!’, he pleaded over the crash of the cymbal. Behind him, Alex’ brows went so far up it disappeared into his snapback. A nervous tug knotted in her stomach at his request, like she was afraid to disappoint him, and shook her head. Keeping up the attitude she nodded at the laptop he so valiantly closed for her.

Pulling it against her chest, she pointed at his bandmates. ‘Go sing about some fucked up teeth more!’

‘Crooked teeth!’, they all yelled in annoyance. Proud to have executed her role an irritating, little sister, she hopped out the studio. If she felt someone’s gaze burning in her back, she must’ve imagined it.

***

There was something to be said about Grace and Luke. Though it wasn’t Julie’s business (or anyone’s, for that matter), the coupling has always intrigued her. Or lack of coupling, really. Every few months they’d find themselves at each other’s lockers flirting up a storm for everyone to see to then ghost each other again. This vicious cycle has been on loop since sophomore year. Julie felt bad for Grace, the pretty senior girl deserved far better than Luke.

Last night, Julie couldn’t sleep. “Crooked Teeth” was blaring in her mind and haunted her dreams (and Luke’s stupid face) until she woke up in a sweat. Something was off. Like solving a math question and knowing the result is wrong but unsure where it all went wrong. Around four in the morning, it hit her. The bridge! It was all jumbled and clunky and she had far better ideas on how to craft it! She sat at her keyboard until seven in the morning, only to stop when a frustrated Carlos barged in, threw a pillow at her and yelled to “zip it!” Reggie and dad, naturally, slept through all of it.

Now, a sleep-deprived, caffeinated and kind of manic Julie was bustling through the hallways trying (and failing) to find Luke. Sure, they butted heads a lot, but music has always been the glue. Temporary glue, but the fact remained that she and Luke were cut from the same cloth when it came to composition and lyrical prowess. (Not that she’d ever admit that. Ew. His ego was large enough as is.)

And then she saw him. At Grace’s locker. Her breath lodged in her throat at the sight. It shouldn’t. God, it truly shouldn’t. But it did. Because Grace was pretty and Luke had one of those faces and they looked good together and it annoyed the fuck out of her. Like, who decided who went through puberty better. Julie knew she wasn’t unattractive, but she wasn’t Grace either. Tall and lithe and glossy black hair and a perfect nose. The ugly, green monster in the back of her head snarled about how her personality was probably off-putting, though Julie knew that to be untrue. Grace was, well, graceful. Genuinely kind. Gah! Since when did Julie hate on other girls? Pushing the voice down, she mustered back the previous excitement (the! bridge!) and paraded towards the pair. Luke saw her before Grace did.

She rushed the last few steps and hastily grabbed the papers from the side pocket of her backpack. 'Luke! Hi, Grace. Okay, I know "Crooked Teeth" is finished, but I couldn't stop thinking about it and I had this amazing idea for the bridge.'

When he didn't react for a beat, stunned by her giddy attitude, her smile mellowed awkwardly. 'I mean… it's your song. You don't have to-'

'No!', he shouted, frantic. Her brows raised in surprise. 'No, uh-' His hand flew to the back of his head, raking the ends of his hair. 'Yeah. D'you wanna go to the music room? To show me?'

Julie’s eyes flitted to a confused Grace. ‘Um…’

Luke caught on and shot the girl an easy grin. ‘Talk to you later, yeah?’

She shrugged. ‘I guess?’

Before she could say anything more, Luke snatched Julie by the wrist and dragged her to the nearest, open music room. The arts school was littered with them, though most had a reserved schedule. Luckily, one was empty.

‘Okay,’ she said, tucking her hair behind her ears as she slid down in front of the piano. Luke sat next to her, expectant. ‘The bridge right now? It’s fine, but it’s not “wow”, you know? I was thinking about how the verses and chorus sound so visceral and loud, so the bridge should have something guttural. Like, primal. That’s a weird word to use, but, I don’t know, have it sound dangerous? Like - why’re you looking at me like that?’

A strange expression was plastered on Luke’s face. A half-grin and wide eyes, like he was scared he’d miss something, like he’d blink and she’d disappear. In other words: he looked insane. Then again, her exhaustion mustn’t look too appealing either.

He shook his head, that smile falling away for something more timid. All the bravado he oozed while talking to Grace just moments before, was gone for shy eyes and fingers gripping the chain around his jeans.

‘Nothing.’ He nudged her. ‘You kinda ambushed me here, Molina.’

Her words stuttered out. ‘I- I was just-’ Zeroing back on the keys with a frown, she said: ‘I’ll just play you the bridge.’

As she did, her mind was elsewhere. This wasn’t weird, right? They’ve done this before. Collaborated, gone to music rooms to bounce ideas back and forth, played until dusk. She knew it wasn’t weird. It was always just a matter of time before the next “ambush” came, as he put it. Soon, he’d barge into her room with half a melody and forced her to finish it. This was normal.

Then why did her skin ripple with anticipation from his intense gaze directed on her temple?

When she finished, she kept her eyes on the keys. Suddenly, his hand appeared in her vision and softly patted her knuckles, urging her to look at him anyway. He had that strange look again, the sight letting the most peculiar feeling rush through her veins.

Luke smiled. ‘I like it.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Wanna play it for the boys during next rehearsal?’ His brows raised with hope, head leaning her way as if he wasn’t already close enough. And he wasn’t close enough.

Julie went on autopilot at this point, too enthralled by her emotions running wild. ‘Yeah.’ It came out breathy and foolish and if she had half a brain cell right now, she’d kick herself in the face for how dumb she sounded.

His hand squeezed hers and then let go, that smile turning nervous. Oh God, did he notice how weird she abruptly got? ‘Cool. Sweet. Perfect. Your- this was perfect. I’ll see you, uh, -’

‘Yeah,’ she squeaked. ‘Whenever.’

When he left the room in a hurry, her face planted itself on the keys and erupted a harsh sound. Fitting, she believed. Her mind was a mess too.

***

Then stuff began piling on and each time it did, Julie’s heart fluttered like the traitorous bitch it was.

Like when Luke told her to tell calculus to “bite her” as a joke, but then she actually did during a test and somehow didn’t get a black out. She knew it was likely just a placebo, but the grin she earned later on when she showed him the B+ and he gave her the tightest hug was worth the pseudo-science.

Or he found her in the hallway whenever they both had a free period and casual small talk turned to slamming each other into lockers or, more recently, pulled her outside to get boba from the place right across the street. Their boba hangouts were probably the strangest development of all, but it was… nice. Pleasant. If she ever secretly thought it was a date, then it must’ve been a sun stroke hitting her.

Or she’d be doing her homework and he’d waltz into her room (because he was always at their house and that never changed) and randomly help her with a task or question. It was small and it usually slowed her down, but she hasn’t had the guts to turn him away either. She blamed his stupid smile.

Or just yesterday they were all in the kitchen and she was peering over Reggie’s shoulder as he tried and failed to properly text his crush Kayla, when she said:

‘Isn’t that weird? That you’re talking to a junior?’

Luke, who was looking over his other shoulder, scoffed. ‘Why would that be weird?’

Pointing at the emoji he should be using (the purple heart - duh!), she shrugged. ‘I don’t know. You just don’t see a lot of people date outside of their year. It’s, like, an unspoken rule.’

Reggie pouted. ‘Not helping, Jules.’

‘I am! Use the purple heart!’

Luke snorted. ‘Please, if you were asked out by some senior boy, you’d say no?’

The Molina’s looked up from the phone to shoot him a weird look. The boy shrunk under their stare, fingers nervously drumming island.

Caution tinged her voice. ‘I don’t know… should I?’

The boys stared at each other for a beat. That “bro-talk” again, Julie presumed with a roll of the eye. Typical.

‘Yes,’ Luke trailed, unsure. ‘You should say no.’

A ball of disappointment dropped to the pit of her stomach at his words - hard. Oh. So he didn’t mean himself then. Julie froze. Why would she even want that? She was not returning to her fourteen year old self that gawked at Luke like an idiot. Nope. Not happening. Just because she felt flushed and ecstatic every Wednesday afternoon when they schedules lined up, that didn’t mean her crush has resurfaced. Totally.

But then something even more maddening happened. It was Thursday afternoon, right before lunch, when Nick approached her by her locker. She’d been fervently texting a sick Flynn to get better when he started asking about dance class and how on earth he was supposed to master a calypso by Monday next week. He was clearly stressed and Julie gave him a hug. Just as she was going to offer her help (or redirect him to Kayla, as she was an actual dance goddess), a familiar arm draped around her shoulder and pulled her back.

Julie was fuming. Luke decided to start acting like some jovial prick as he intimidated Nick with all these terror stories about his own dance assignments from last year and that “a calypso was just the beginning.” The poor guy was practically passed out from anxiety by the time his spiel was over. She couldn’t even yell an apology as he sped off and spun around the corner at lightning speed.

The arm fell away, Luke stared at her ridden with guilt, muttered some half-assed “sorry” and rushed off in the opposite direction. A baffled, angry Julie was left standing there.

If Luke thought he could be some white knight, he was dead wrong.

***

She got lucky. Reggie mentioned beforehand Luke was coming over and knew that he, inevitably, would ascend the stairs. A pent-up Julie paced in her room, feeling that fever pitch come to a boiling point. Argh! Why was he so… infuriating?! (And attractive?! And charismatic?! Argh!)

Then she heard it. His tentative steps up the steps. Like he knew. The fact that she was seemingly predictable left her cold this time, slamming her door open at just the right moment to snatch his wrist and roughly yank him inside.

Before he could react, she yelled: 'What the hell, Luke?! Why did you do that?'

Luke was a stammering, embarrassed mess. Good. 'Uh- I- I-'

'You can't just act all overprotective or possessive like that! What's your problem with Nick? He's super nice and, you know, my friend. I already have two brothers, I don’t need one more!’

'I-'

'You don't get to decide who I talk with! Or save me or whatever fantasy you were living in! And-!'

'I like you, Jules,' he blurted.

Julie was blazing though. 'So? That doesn't mean that-' Until the words dried on her tongue, stunned. All else she had prepared to say flew out the window. The constant fluttering in her heart hitched. Did she… hear him correctly? 'W-what?'

A beat went by, like he couldn’t believe he actually said that, but then word vomit spewed out. 'I- I like you? Like, on and off since I was eleven and I tried to not like you - I really tried - but you're just incredible and pretty and an amazing singer and you keep doing that thing with your lips when you have a thought and it's been killing me seeing Nick shoot his shot and-'

Julie dove forward and pressed a kiss on his rambling mouth. Stretched on her tippy toes, she saw him freeze and stare at her in wonder. Slowly, her poor heart began to beat again, fast and fond and for him and oh my God, what was happening?

'Did you just-', he croaked.

Shit. Should she have asked to kiss him first? Her hands didn't leave his shoulders, alarmed. 'Uh… you just kept talking and-' She swallowed back her nerves and mustered a smile. 'If you wanted to be my boyfriend, you could've just asked.'

Luke blinked, completely in awe by her words. 'What?'

Alright. Time to take life by the balls, Molina.

'You didn't think I might like you back?'

An incredulous laugh puffed from his lips, looking from her hands on his shoulders and then grabbed onto her waist. Jitters burst in her stomach at the sudden touch. This was actually happening. Holy shit. But God, how could she deny that bright smile and his warm smile and that giddy feeling that rippled her skin each time they hung out?

'Can we try that again?', he breathed.

His grin captured hers before she could fully nod, his hands slipping to her lower back and jaw without hesitation. Her arms slung around his neck, finally getting a feel for his soft locks of hair. Heat grew from her chest to her toes, curling from bliss. She felt deliciously empty and full of glee all at once.

Her back fell against the door with a giggle. Just as he went back in, she pressed a finger on his lips.

'Still doesn't make it right what you did.'

'Yeah.' He kissed her again. 'Sorry.'

She tried saying more, but each word was muffled by another warm kiss of his intoxicating lips and all she could do was melt against him. The odd lyric that “heaven was his lips and larger than paradise” passed her by, hopefully reminding her of its existence in an hour or two.

His fingers slipped under her shirt and dug into her heated skin. They became lazier, the kisses open-mouthed and smiling and already so amazing at first try. Julie has kissed a handful of boys before, but this? Unmatched.

Two sudden knocks against wood. ‘Julie?’

They froze, Julie slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his inevitable snicker.

‘Have you seen Luke?’, Reggie continued, confusion lacing his voice.

‘No!’, her voice squeaked, still affected by their make-out. Cringing, she tried to level it. ‘Uh, maybe he’s gone to the, uh-’ His lips grazed her neck, teasingly. She pinched his arm, but he didn’t lean back. Asshole. ‘-uh…’

‘Julie? Everything okay?’

‘Yeah! Yeah! I’m fine!’ Julie pushed Luke back again, this time the boy giving her some space. The wolfish smirk he was sporting was one she either wanted to slap or kiss away. ‘Maybe he’s in the bathroom? Annoying Carlos? The studio?’ Not my room!

They held in their breaths as they waited for a reply. Her mind was failing to catch up to what she’s just done. Here she was, with flushed lips and tingling skin from Luke’s actions as her brother was meandering on the other side of the door. How did she end up here?

He blew a raspberry. ‘Okay…’ They sighed. ‘When you’re done making out, can you force Luke to start our project? Kind of an important assignment.’

Luke’s face crashed into pure horror, mouth falling agape and skin pale as a ghost. Julie snorted despite herself, dropping her head on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle her giggles but failing horribly. Of course, Reggie knew. His dreamy nature made anyone forget how observant he actually was, yet here he instantly he had his pulse on the facts. Or he’s always known about Luke’s crush on her. Probably both.

Her smile stretched against the fabric of his shirt. Luke had a crush on her. Luke liked her.

Reggie’s footsteps faded away, his bedroom door falling shut. Their gazes met again.

Luke gulped, green eyes wide and oh so adorable. ‘He took that surprisingly well.’

Her chin raised, haughty. She hasn’t forgotten about that infuriating face of his just one minute before. ‘You kissed my neck.’

That look returned as he hummed, edging closer. ‘I did.’

‘You’re an asshole, you know that?’

His face brightened at her words, weaving a hand through her and making her sigh just like that. She was gone and she didn’t even know it. ‘And you’re-’ he murmured, softly kissing her lips, ‘-into that.’

How desperately she wanted to keep this going, she has heard what Reggie said. An important project due. She shouldn’t trouble her brother like that, even if making out with his best friend was far more appealing than anything else in the world right now.

The measly words puffed out. ‘You have-’ kiss ‘-a project-’ kiss ‘-with Reggie.’ kiss.

‘Hmm…’ Letting her stand between his legs to be even closer and consequently shutting down any rationale, Luke mumbled against her lips: ‘One more minute.’

In the end, Luke stayed for another thirty minutes before Reggie barged in, dragged the boy from Julie’s bed by the collar and wordlessly trucked back out the room. When later that night she received a text saying goodnight jules 💙 she knew she hadn’t been dreaming.

And when Luke kissed her square on the lips the next day for everyone to see, Julie had inkling this interesting, little relationship of theirs was the just the beginning.

@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @sophiphi @ourstarscollided

#jatp fanfiction #juke #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better

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justreadingfics · 4 years ago

Text

It’s a Deal (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: How you and Bucky feel about the presence of your ex-boyfriend.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.3k

Warnings:+18 only, mention to smut, overdrinking, embarrassing behavior due alcohol consumption, Natasha knows stuff, ex-boyfriend, minor jealousy, minor angst, floof, Bucky has a somewhat creep confession, but give him a break, he’s never been in love.

A/N: Another smutless one, I hope you don’t mind. Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

Previously:

Your shoulder brushes against him as you walk past Bucky and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse makes him turn to her and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to see on her face.

“What?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in an estate of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried with the wrong person.”

No point. Bucky sees absolutely no point in trying to make it like there isn’t turmoil twisting inside of him. Not for Natasha, anyway, it would be to no avail. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s a kicked puppy look on his face to make it harder for him to put on any kind of façade.

“Fuck,” he sighs and run his hand harshly over his face, “What the hell is this, Natasha?” He whines, failing at trying to not sound as helpless as he does.

“You tell me, buddy.” She points at him with her glass of vodka, tilting her head with interest.

“Shit,” he exhales, looking down, before his face snaps up at her, “I’m … just weird, I’m not myself these days.” Bucky bites his lower lip as if trying to somehow refrain from spilling the words, but he just can’t, he’s dying to let it all out. He steps closer to her and lowers his voice as much as he can with the loud music beating around them, “I’ve spent almost every day of the last month with her. I have absolutely no desire to see or think of another woman and I have to restrain myself constantly, cause if I had it my way I would call her every five minutes to check in on her, and… and when I’m thinking about her - which is all the time, I fucking swear - I wonder if she’s thinking of me, and now? I mean, right now? I feel like snatching the blade right now on my ankle and shooting it right on that fella’s throat.” Finally taking a breath after his rambling, he points in your direction, before turning to see you right when you’re letting out a small laugh at something the punk has said.

“Wow…” Natasha lets out a whistle.

“A few days ago,” he turns back to his friend, “I snuck into her closet to find out the name of her perfume. And you know what I did next? I bought a large bottle for myself, like a fucking creep,” sheer frustration plasters on his tone.

“Oh my…,” Natasha snorts at the same time a mix of incredulity and amusement shines on her eyes, “That’s definitely creepy and it’s even worse than I imagined. The almighty Bucky Barnes, the I’m a whore and proud,” she thickens her voice playfully, moving her arms in a mimicking way, “The I don’t do romance and attachments king is a tiny lost puppy with big blue heart eyes, aww,” she inclines her head as if she’s thinking of him as exactly how she’s just described him.

Bucky tries but he can’t actually find the amusement in all of that. The fact one single woman is making him feel that way is entirely new, unpredictable and… scary as hell. He has no clue where to go from there.

Natasha seems to swiftly catch on his little inner self torment and, after letting out a deep sigh, she puts on a small smile and shakes her head, “Don’t worry Bucky, it’s probably a crush. A big one. But only a crush,” she places her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, “Y/n is one of my best friends and I know how delightful it is to be beside her. Maybe you’re just infatuated…”

“Maybe…” he exhales and shrugs, “I wouldn’t know… all I know is I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not that I remember…. but I’m pretty sure I would.” He looks at you again while you’re still talking to the Eddie guy.

“They have history,” Natasha says in a kind voice, following your gaze.

“I know.”

“He was her first and only boyfriend.”

“I know.”

“She thought she was going to marry him.”

“Damn Nat…” he breathes out his frustration, dropping his head for a moment, before raising his downcast gaze at her again, “Yeah, I know that, too.”

“But you’re Bucky fucking Barnes,” she snaps in a more cheerful voice shaking his arm with a enthusiastic force, “Don’t forget that, buddy,” she shoots him a warning glare, “Also, I’ve never seen a brighter smile on that woman than when she’s talking about you,” she beams.

Bucky’s heart jumps and a quick breathy smile surges on his lips before he takes in a shuddering breath, “I’m not sure what I should do, though.”

“Well, figure it out,” she lets go of his arm and taps on it, “My advice for the night if you should accept it is let it flow,” she shrugs. “Go on with your thing and see what happens. Just try not to hurt you or her on your way, though,” Nat warns.

“I’m not even sure I-Wait,” he frowns after his gaze is drawn to the spot where you are again, “Did that fucker just leave her alone?”

He instantly struts towards you, ignoring Nat’s snicker.

~~~

“Hey,” you smile, gulping down the nervousness down your throat as you approach your ex-boyfriend. The one you haven’t seen ever since he broke up with you months ago.

“Hey,” he offers you a tight but kind smile back.

You halt on your way, the awkwardness building up a barrier on your way as you’re not sure what to do next. Should you give him your hand to shake? Hug him? Do nothing at all? Not once before you had thought that moment would play out between you and Eddie.

But he seems a bit more resolved than you and shrugs, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Congratulations again,” he says, still holding you, “You’re the best and most hard working person I know, you deserve it.”

The small smile in your lips grows wider and you accept the compliment, relieved that the awkwardness seems to be tamed. While you’re so close to him after all that time, you notice he’s wearing the same perfume he’s been wearing for years, the one which would make you sneeze all the time, but you never really said anything.

“Thank you,” you lean back, sniffing discreetly to suppress the sneeze threatening to come out, “I’m happy you could make it,” you add. The fact he’s arrived all by himself grasps your interest, considering how everyone around you would tell you he was probably seeing someone else… however, if he did have someone, he wouldn’t bring them to your party, would he?

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a gentle tone, but the formality is still there, you notice.

You two engage in some small conversation and you can’t help but to take him in and realize that, just like the perfume, Eddie looks exactly the same with everything else. The same hairstyle, same grey t-shirt you gifted him on your last Christmas together, the same constant half smile while he talks… he still speaks quietly, letting out just a few small words, which has always forced you to be the one to push on the conversations…

It’s… familiar… even comfortable, you dare say. But if you’re going to be honest with your own feelings, ever since he walked away, you thought you would be yearning to feel that familiarity again, that it would lead you to a sense of… home.

Why it isn’t quite like that, though?

“You look different,” he says as the subjects of small talk seem to come to an ending point.

You put your previous thoughts aside for later consideration.

“Oh…Different good or bad?” you ask, tilting your head with a small pull in the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know... just…different, I guess,” he frowns and quickly puts on that half smile of his.

“Oh, well… it’s been a while…“

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he says, regarding you with a wondering look in his eyes that makes you shift on your knees, “Listen,” he clears his throat, “I was wondering if we could meet to talk one of these days.”

“Oh,” you draw in a breath. Talking to him, having a real conversation, is something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It still feels like you don’t fully understand why you’re broken-up. Regardless the time it’s passed, you still feel attached to him somehow, like, no matter how exciting and new, you’re now living someone else’s life and not the one you had planned for you years ago.

“I mean,” he adds before you can give him a proper answer, “We still need to figure out what to do about the condo.”

The words are like cold water thrown at your face. There you are, thinking he wanted to talk about your relationship, but what’s really on his mind is the condo you’ve bought together. Swiftly, you work on putting a small smile on your face, “Yeah… sure, you’re right,” you nod.

“Hey! Eddie!”

Both of you look towards the female voice and your eyes fall upon a beautiful young woman you recognize as one of the members of SHIELD’s tech team. You’ve worked with her on a joined project of the two organizations before. Chloe… you believe her name is Chloe.

She’s waving at Eddie excitedly, calling him over the little group she’s with. She doesn’t seem to notice you’re standing next to him until her gaze meets yours. The wide grin on her face drops into a quick cringe before she nods in a respectful manner and shifts her look away, whispering something at one of the guys in the group.

When you set your attention back on Eddie, you tighten your lips just as you notice how the bone on his throat bobs right before his flustered eyes meet yours again.

“I-I, ahm, gotta go,” he runs his hand on the nape of his neck, “Can I call you later?”

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice comes out calm and controlled.

“It was good to see you,” he says, before placing his hand on your shoulder, “Congratulations again.”

After you give him a small nod as a thank you, keeping the tight smile on your face matching his, he walks away towards the group and the woman. The one your friends kept warning you about, apparently, given how uncomfortable he seemed to be in front of you after you saw her. As soon as he gets there, you see the two of them talking in hushed words. He keeps a safe distance from her, but his hand on her arm is where your gaze sticks on.

You don’t have the slightest idea of what’s happening with your feelings right now. Minutes ago you were realizing the familiarity of Eddie wasn’t what you expected it to be anymore, but now, seeing him so close to someone else… a beautiful woman, to be more specific, with her long black straightened hair and fancy blue dress holding each one of her beautiful curves…It just crushes you. A lump grows in your throat and while your gaze flicks around, you feel small… lost… picturing ways you could flee away from your own party at the same time ten years of your life flash in your mind.

The cold, yet gentle touch of metal in your elbow is what takes you out of your own head, “Hey, everything alright?” says the silky and soothing voice.

Your gaze meets Bucky’s while he stares at you with concerned eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his…There’s already a bit less turbulence inside your chest and mind. You think nothing of it, though.

“Yeah, yeah…” you smile, “He, ahm… Some friends called him. He had to go.”

Bucky just lets out a hum – which sounds more like a groan – staring over your shoulder to where the little group stands.

“He said he wants to talk…“ you start, and don’t see when Bucky’s breath hatches catches on his throat, his eyes back on you, “About the condo,” you press your lips, “He said he’ll call me.”

While your gaze gets lost ahead, you have no idea that the sadness in them pinches deep inside Bucky’s chest. If you could read Bucky’s mind at that moment, you would find out that the fact your reencounter with your ex-boyfriend hadn’t ended up in some sort of hope for reconciliation hasn’t left him sad at all, but the lost look in your eyes… makes him wanna hold you in his arms and never let go. Not before punching a douche in the face, of course.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” he wraps his arm around your shoulder, side hugging and pulling you closer to him, “You’re the fucking boss now and, look around, ” he gestures with his glass of whiskey to the crowded and jazzing place, ”You have a damn Stark party just for you. We’re all here to celebrate the badass motherfucker you are. You’re not just going to let anything ruin your night, will you?” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he grins at you.

You let out a small laugh, the heaviness inside you slowly slipping out of your body as you allow yourself to synchronize with Bucky’s vibe. You can always trust the upbeat way he presents the world to you to lift whatever mood of yours up. You look down at your empty glass and shrugs, “I might need a refill, though…or two,” you shoot him a warning look.

Bucky’s smile stretches even wider and he lets go of your shoulders to offer his arm, nodding towards the bar, “Shall we?”

You gladly accept his suggestion by wrapping your hand around his elbow and walking with him, not even noticing that Eddie’s gaze follows you with piqued interest.

~~~

Quite a few more drinks later and after listening to Tony’s very nice and very Tony speech on his toast to honor you, you’re already fully invested in your party again. Bucky stays by your side most of the time, but you also come across with a lot of your friends from work and a few others, who are all more than happy to put you high on a pedestal for your promotion and party with you. It stings a bit when Camilla, your friend from work, tells you she heard Eddie and Chole are really together, but two or three more drinks after, you end up hitting the dance floor with a few friends by your side, not even seeing when Eddie leaves the party early, right before Chloe.

You’re happy to see that Amanda, one of Bucky’s friends you met that night in the club, has made it to the party, but you’re already too tipsy and it slips from your attention when she comments on how Bucky has been quite distant from her and the other girls for almost a month now.

If you’re going to be honest, you end up not truly noticing a lot of stuff since you’ve been drinking a great deal more than you’re used to, probably due the drill of having a kickass party thrown for you mixed with the unexpected sight of Eddie with a potential new girl - after months without seeing him. As the alcohol does its thing in your senses, you don’t notice the way Bucky looks at you, the way he holds you a little bit stronger when you’re dancing together, how he glares at the guys who tries to approach you or the fact he only leaves your side when he knows you’re comfortable and safe.

All you see and feel now is the music and the lights as you sway your hips to the beats. The party is almost coming to an end, but there’s still a small crowd of people enjoying their last moments there. The alcohol, the music and your friends, more precisely Camilla, Olivia, Amanda and Nat – the last two in the middle of a flirting contest you fail to notice, as well – are the ones around you. The buzz clouds your mind in a delicious way until your back bumps into a hard wall. Your weakened knees give in but before you hit the floor the wall wraps around you and holds you still.

Oh, you know that hard wall of muscles… You know it pretty well.

“Hey, there.” A foolish smile plasters on your lips at the same time the back of your head leans against the wall so you can see his face. His gorgeous and ungodly sexy face, “Your face is sexy,” you decide it is a very good idea to tell him that now.

“That right?” Bucky smirks, holding your gaze.

“Oh, yeah,” you clumsily turn around to face him, prompting him to grab you tighter since you stumble a bit on your toes. You curl the hand holding your glass around his neck, “And you’re big, too,” you don’t even notice but you’re a slurring mess as you speak and look to see your running hand down his broad chest, roughly probing his muscles, “Very, very big,” you exaggerate a sultry tone, the alcohol erasing any kind of subtleness or refinement in you or the notion that there are people around you, while your hand explores further down his body to say it’s not just about his muscles you’re talking about.

“Sweetheart.” Not making a big fuss about it, he gently grabs your wrist over his lower stomach to place it around his neck along with the other one, ”I’m very flattered to hear that, you’re one very nice piece of ass yourself, too,” he engages with you, keeping the playful tone.

You let out a girlish giggle, turning your face towards your friends, the trio now whispering and laughing among themselves as they watch the both of you, “He said I have a nice ass,” you shout, not realizing how loud you actually are as you lift and shake your hips, making your friends laugh harder and causing you to trip on your toes once again. But of course Bucky catches you before you fall.

“How many drinks, so far, huh?” Bucky chuckles, keeping the hold of his arms and eyes on you.

“Three or four,” you answer with nonchalance, bringing the glass to your lips as you hold yourself on his neck, only to pout when you notice it’s empty.

Your friends scoff at your lie behind you, “You can add at least ten more to that count, sweetheart,” Natasha shouts from behind you, punctuating the word sweetheart with a teasing pull on her mouth.

You make a dismissive face only Bucky can see, “Nonsense, check out what I can do,“ You step back from Bucky with the intention to put on a yoga pose you’re sure will convince your friends of how ok and steady you are and as soon as you lift your leg, you trip again and this time Bucky is not fast enough to catch you before your ass hit the floor.

The four of them rush to help you out as tears fall down from your eyes at how much you’re laughing, holding your glass up. It’s Bucky who ends up picking you up, though.

He and your friends shower you with questions to check if you’re ok but it all falls like a blur sound to your years.

“Ok, I guess it was a bit more than three or five,” ignoring the curious eyes around your group, you laugh making an ok sign with your hands before your stomach churns and you grimace, placing your hand over it, “Oh…” your face drops.

“Alright, come one, let’s go,” Bucky supports you with his hands and urges you to walk with him.

“Where are you taking me?” You frown, sounding almost offended as he takes your glass from you and hands it to Natasha, gently pulling you along.

“My place… let’s freshen up, come on,” Bucky patiently says, nodding at the girls to say goodbye, who just nod back, knowing you would be in good hands.

“Ooooo, bye girls, we’re going to his place to freshen up,” you wink exaggeratedly and make air quotations with your fingers, addressing your friends as you clumsily walk away with Bucky.

~~~

“Bridal style,” you loudly announce stretching your hands and legs to the air as soon as he steps inside his living room with you in his arms.

Bucky can’t help but laugh as a snorting giggle follows your words. If he had his way he would’ve carried you from the party, but he didn’t want to attract even more attention to your state. So, on the second trip on your own feet inside the elevator he picked you up. It would be easier that way.

Bucky carefully puts you standing on the floor and, as soon as he’s convinced you can stand on your feet without stumbling or falling, he turns to shut the door, only to have you jumping on him as soon as he faces you.

“Hey, hey,” he manages to say softly, placing his hands on your hips as you shower his mouth and face with sloppy kisses which taste strongly like fancy champagne.

“What? Let’s freshen up,” you answer in a log slur, dragging your lips on anything of him you can reach.

Bucky laughs, pushing you away with a gentle yet steady touch, looking deep into your eyes, “That’s not what I meant… not when you had so much to drink, sweetheart.” He flicks his thumb on your chin.

It takes a moment or two, but realization – and disappointment- finally dawns on your face, “Oh… you meant freshen up for real…” You shut your eyes and tap your hand on your forehead.

Bucky thinks you’re too damn cute for your own good.

You focus on him again, “Are you sure, though?” You insist, shoving a finger in your mouth and tilting your hips, putting on before him the unsexist pose Bucky has ever seen.

Yet, it’s the most adorable thing and his annoying heart swells inside his chest for you as you keep your attempts of seducing him, “Yeah, I’m sure,” he nods unrelentingly, holding back a laugh and waiting to see the follow up of your shenanigans.

“But I’m horny and I wanted to suck your big dick,” you pout, crossing your arms and thumping your foot against the floor.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. He is only human and can’t help that his poor cock twitches at your bratty whine. But your glossy half open eyes and dragged voice reminds him he’s the only one sober enough to make decisions in the room and therefore, his buddy down there needs to chill, “I’ll be more than happy to allow you to do so,” he’s amused when your face light up, “But not tonight, sweetheart,” he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you towards the kitchen, not without spotting the dirty look you give him.

“You’re no fun,” you complain, barely able to put one foot in front of the other before you stop and swirl around, trusting on his strong hold to not let you fall wearing a devilish little smirk on your face.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, waiting for whatever mischievous pearl will come out of your lips now.

“What if…” you start before a hiccup interrupts you, “I show you my boobies?” You offer, leaning over and pressing your breasts together through your dress, “You looove my boobies,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively even if your eyelids can’t even remain wide open.

“I do love your boobies,” Bucky can’t deny, not hiding his amusement.

Apparently, that’s all you need to hear before you throw yourself on him again. Bucky swiftly catches you with a huff, but you can’t do much more than circle your arms around his neck and rest your head on him.

“Love your muscles,” you mumble quietly against him, “There are so many of them.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky tries, “As much as I love your boobies and you love my muscles, now it’s not the time. Now it’s time to get you some water, maybe a sandwich, huh? Then I can prepare you a shower and you can rest a bit and… Y/N?” Bucky calls when you’re too quiet- not even making a sex innuendo when he mentions a shower.

He listens a not so soft snore as a response and looks down to see you completely dozed, with your mouth agape against his chest. He sighs… still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, goddammit.

“Guess we can skip right to the resting, then,” he whispers through a fond smile.

Taking you in his arms he walks towards his bedroom and places you on his bed. You only stir a bit when he gently removes your shimmery and apparently uncomfortable dress and unties your heels. He dresses you in a t-shirt of his so you can rest comfortably. He manages to make you drink a little bit of water, to which you whine graciously enough, and, after covering you with a thin blanket – because he knows you’re never really that cold at night, no matter the temperature in the room – he moves to get up and maybe take a shower for himself.

“Bucky,” you mumble and, without opening your eyes, you move yourself to nuzzle against his metal hand sprawled on the mattress, “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

Bucky is absolutely sure you have no idea of what that question really means to him, how it falls upon the rising tangle of feelings inside him… which is all for you. Wonderful and beautiful and special you, who came unannounced and stirred up something in him he never thought possible. Something he just doesn’t know what to do with.

Moving meticulously slowly not to pull his hand and wake you up again now that you’re deep back into slumber, he lays down beside you. For your question… he doesn’t say anything. Simply because he doesn’t know the right answer yet.

~~~

To be continued.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes floof #it's a deal #it's a deal chapter 7

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liptonsbabe · 4 years ago

Text

Birthday

Sirius Black x reader

Summary: Reader’s mad at Sirius ‘cuz he forgot her birthday. Something normal in him. Now he has to apology somehow

Word count: 1.6 k

Warnings: none(?

Same note as ever. English not my mother language. Tell me if something’s wrong pls

You were very excited, you could not camouflage your joy even if you tried to do so. The next day would be your birthday and you felt very happy about that. it would be your first birthday with Sirius as a couple and you were fully convinced that would be great. You left the Gryffindor common room in the way of the great hall to meet your best friends and your boyfriend. You greeted everyone with an effusive kiss on the cheek and Sirius with a kiss on the lips. Everyone looked at you confused

"What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing, we were waiting for you for breakfast" James replied raising his eyebrows looking at you confused

"Oh well, I'm here, let's eat!"

You smiled from ear to ear making James raise his eyebrows even higher

"(Y/N) are you okay?

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, it’s just that you look different. It is weird to see you like this”

You laughed at your friend's comment

"No, no. I'm happy, very very happy. That’s all"

"And why are you so happy, love?" Sirius asked putting an arm around your shoulders. Remus lowered the book he was reading to look at you with a bright smile

"Well ... let's say that tomorrow is a very special day"

"Oh yeah? Why?"

You ignored Sirius' question. You knew he was joking, he was your boyfriend, obviously he had to know what would happen tomorrow. Maybe he was just pretending so you wouldn't notice the surprise party he was throwing for you or something. Although you had to admit that Sirius knew how to hide that secret perfectly.

"You know why" You flirtatiously winked at your boyfriend and then gave him a kiss on the corner of the lips "Let's have a quick breakfast, we have History of Magic first thing in the morning"

The marauders grunted at the same time. You laughed and then had a well-deserved strawberry cake for breakfast.

The day had passed very tediously. You had done very badly on potions, transfiguration and charms and you assumed it was because you weren't focused enough on the subjects to think about the surprise that Sirius would give you the next day

On your birthday you woke up earlier than usual, quickly put on your uniform while doing your hair a bit, took some makeup and put it on your face, smiled at the little mirror you had on your stool and got out of your room bouncing until you reach the common room.

The place was deserted, you were the first to get up and get ready for the day, you bit your lip and waited for Sirius and the others to come down

It was more than half an hour until Sirius came down to the room still wearing the bottom of his pajamas, since he tended to sleep without a shirt; he rubbed his sleepy eyes and saw you smiling in the common room. He came up to you and kissed you sweetly

“Good morning doll”

“Good morning Sirius”

You waited for a birthday greeting, but it didn't come; Sirius just stood there, next to you looking at you with a lopsided smile. You raised an eyebrow

“You have nothing to say to me?” you questioned. Sirius shrugged

“Like what?”

“Something about ... today”

“Today?”He remarked confused until he seemed to remember something “Ah, yes, can i copy your astronomy homework for today's class? I just didn't have time to do it. James and I had a problem with a couple of Slytherin boys and we completely forgot about it”

You crossed your arms, disappointed

“Sirius, do you know what day it is today?

“Uh ... Tuesday?” He rubbed the back of his neck at the sudden angry tone you used. You shook your head

“Forget it”

Sirius's mouth was left in the middle of a word from your sudden escape. He heard you curse him under your breath and sob, but he couldn't understand why. He dropped into one of the chairs until Remus came jumping down the steps two at a time with a package in his hands.

“Hey, Sirius, have you seen (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, she just leave”

"Oh great," he said smiling. Sirius pointed the package

“What's that?”

“Oh! It's (Y/N)’s birthday present

Sirius jumped up completely scared

“What?!”

“It's a hand knitted sweater. I didn't have a lot of money to give her something better, but I hope she likes it. I did it myself ”he said proudly. Sirius paled

”Oh no. Oh no, shit!”

“What?”

“Remus, you're going to kill me but I forgot (Y/ N)’s birthday

Remus Lupin rolled his eyes holding the package tighter

“I'd be surprised if you didn't. Sometimes I think that you use the obliviate on yourself at night, I have no better reason to excuse your stupidity”

Sirius ran a hand through his long hair

"Help me, please”

“No, i won’t”

“PLEASE!”

“Will you be my slave for a week if I help you?” Sirius stuck his tongue out

“Never”

“I’m sorry for you then. Good luck”

Remus walked towards the portrait and before he left, Sirius stopped him

“Wait! I’ll do it”

“The offer was only valid when I proposed it. Now, solve this by yourself”

Remus strutted out at the great hall. Sirius ran up the stairs to his bedroom so fast that he bumped his little finger on the way up; he cursed his bad luck and put on his uniform as fast as he could

Sirius entered the great hall seeing how Remus and you were sitting together; You were putting on the sweater that Remus had given you over your uniform while smiling at your friend. The sweater was in Gryffindor colors and in the center was a baby lion. Sirius felt a twist in his stomach. He walked up to you and as he walked, he noticed how the greetings were raining down on you in the great hall making him feel bad

It wasn't even two seconds after Sirius sat down on the table when you stood up and left without even looking at him. James clapped him on the shoulder

“Remus has told me everything and you know? I think you are a moron”

“Yes, I know”

“What are you going to do now?” Peter asked

“Buy her a gift. A huge one to forgive me”

Remus chimed in

"She doesn't wants an expensive gift, she just wants you to remember the special dates." Sirius frowned.

“You don't know anything about women”

“Well, I know more about your girlfriend than you do” Peter and James laughed ”Look, if you want to give her something, just make sure it’s special

“Yeah, something like ... a necklace or something. Girls like those things”James added.

Sirius nodded

When classes ended Sirius's feet ached from following you through the hallways to apologize. You were ignoring him and Sirius felt very jealous when the boys from other houses greeted you and you thanked them with a smile; he felt terrible that others remembered his girlfriend's birthday and not him.

By that time, Sirius had already found the perfect gift and kept it in a small wooden box that he had gotten thanks to Peter. He hadn't even attended classes to find something you might like; In the end he decided on something very simple. He went to your room and knocked the door

“If you are James, Remus or Peter, come in. If you are Sirius you can fuck yourself"

"Baby please ..." Sirius begged behind the door.

“Don’t “baby please me” That’s not enough!”

“I know, but I've been asking for your forgiveness all day. I feel like a fool”

“Well that's what you are!”

"Love, open the door, please. I promise that if after what I have to say you can’t forgive me, then we will split up and I will walk away from you forever”

Sirius waited for five minutes for an answer. He was about to leave when the door opened. Sirius rushed in and knelt in front of you

“I'm so sorry, princess.I hate myself so much for forgetting such an important day. I'm a monster! I couldn't remember your birthday even if you indirectly told me the other day, I'm a fool. Don’t leave me please. I love you. I love you so much”

"Sirius, stand up" You helped him stand up and he handed you a box

“I bought you something. I know you might not want it after what happened, but I bought it with all the love in my heart”

You took the box and opened it. Your eyes filled with tears.

On the box was half a silver heart with a caption on the front. Sirius took it between his fingers

“I have the other half. See?” He said taking the pendant out of his shirt. You connected both parts and saw that the caption said: I give you my heart "I carved it myself with my wand. I know it's not a big deal, but ...

You kissed him unexpectedly and then hugged him

“Oh Sirius, it's perfect”

“It is, but not as much as you are”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #marauders #Remus lupin #Harry Potter #Harry Potter imagines

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bungee-gum-b1tch · 3 years ago

Note

Not sure how far you're into the lessons, but you know how there's that one story where the brothers kept 'discreetly' asking MC what they like so they can buy a present for the Diavolo's birthday/ MC's welcome party? How'd you think the brothers react if they answered "I wish for world peace... but I know that's impossible so I'm okay with just ice cream instead, or new art supplies could be good too!"

omg this is my first askkkk tysm!! i love this idea lmao and this was super fun to write. im still new to this so hope you like it! also sorry if the formatting is a bit weird, i’m still getting used to posting things like this so it might take a bit for me to figure out a good layout

Note: satan’s is more nerdy than i intended and beel’s is almost entirely about ice cream… hope u don’t mind😅

– – –

Warnings: none

– – –

Lucifer

congrats! you’ve officially managed to catch Lucifer off guard

it’s brief, but still

definitely has an “istg this human” moment

would probably seem like indifferent to your response at first since he would likely just shake his head but when you turn away there’s a hint of a fond smile on his lips

i’d be lying if i said it didn’t cross his mind to ask diavolo how his laws for maintaining peace in the devildom were holding up

when he gives you your gift the cocky little shit would be like “unfortunately i couldn’t find world peace when i was out shopping. i hope this suffices”

Mammon

“oi, human! i’m serious!”

“so am i! i said ice cream would be a good alternative, didn’t i?”

ruffles your hair and just scoffs “what’d i do to get stuck with a smartass human like you, huh?”

like half an hour later lucifer catches him trying to sneak off to the human world cuz “it’s for mc i swear!!!!! they wanted human world ice cream!!!!!”

only avoided getting fed to cerberus cuz because he mentioned your name and that it was for you

accompanied to the human world by lucifer himself

probably asks lucifer “how hard do you think it would be to bring world peace to the human world”

at which point he is promptly dragged back to the devildom

Leviathan

are you trying to kill him?

shakes his head after a second and mutters to himself “stupid normie making normie jokes…” as if your “normie jokes” don’t have him blushing cuz omg mc is so cute and funny

babe knows he can’t actually get you world peace, so what’s the next best thing?

a manga about saving the world and establishing peace, obviously

hands it to you blushing like crazy and

the other one to go “i couldn’t get you world peace, so i hope this will make up for it…”

if ur a mha fan he’d probably get u something All Might related cuz symbol of peace and stuff

i hc levi as a really good artist and i feel like he’s definitely made fanart of his favorite shows/manga so he’d latch onto that mention of art supplies and just run with it

Satan

ok listen

i don’t know how or why this occurred to me, but i’m going with it

for some reason i feel like this book nerd would mishear world peace as war and peace, so he’d immediately get a special human world copy

probably thought to himself “wow, i didn’t think mc would be interested in reading such a long book!”

when you finally explain the joke to him as you laugh, he’d definitely be blushing and would probably apologize profusely

would make it up to you by getting some books on art tho

if he did happen to hear you right, he’d shake his head and smile

finds some way to sneak to the human world and get you your fav ice cream cuz “screw lucifer it’s mc’s birthday and risking making lucifer angry is worth making mc happy”

spends a shit ton of money on akuzon buying books about art history and techniques to the point where, upon seeing the massive amount of money missing from his bank account, lucifer thinks mammon is responsible and satan has to physically stop him from feeding mammon to cerberus

Asmodeus

“if only i could be everywhere at once, seeing my beautiful face all the time is bound to bring peace to the world!”

*proceeds to go on a ten minute long tangent about how beautiful he is, debating whether his beauty would bring peace to the world or be too much for everyone to bear and cause chaos*

truly a tough decision

shockingly enough, he does in fact remember what you said about ice cream and art supplies even when he’s done with his rant

best he can do is ice cream scented bath bombs and some art supplies

...on the condition that you’ll use them to paint him

Beelzebub

did someone say ice cream?

would probably do a double take at first, but the mention of food would quickly push that to the side

istg it takes every ounce of lucifer’s power to stop him from stealing an entire ice cream truck from the human world for the party

lucifer finally caves and lets him go to the human world to get your favorite ice cream

expect a lot of barbatos’s finest ice cream at the party cuz if beel can’t get you world peace and ice cream is the next best thing, he’s gonna get you the best damn ice cream in the entire devildom

Belphegor

"really, human?”

this pessimistic little shit would probably just roll his eyes and shake his head

you’d probably hear a quiet snicker if you listen hard enough

but knowing him he’d refuse to admit a human made him laugh

ANYWAY

moving on from edgelord belphie he would def go to beel to ask where he could get the best ice cream in the devildom

if you ask beel where he got the ice cream beel would probably let slip that it was from belphie lmao

if he’s feeling snarky he’d probably give you your gift and joke like “i’d get you world peace but that isn’t really my thing. hope this works instead”

otherwise he’s just like “here take this ice cream thats definitely from beel and not at all from me. i absolutely did not sneak to the human world just to get this for you, what are you talking about human?”

babe likes to act like he doesn’t laugh at your jokes and like he doesn’t give a shit but he’s just as much of a simp as the others

#obey me reactions #obey me scenarios #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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static-fanatic-1 · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere!All For One x Fem!Reader

Warning: Non-con, Fingering, Kidnapping, Mentioning of stalking, Spooky gift giving, Reader has a powerful healing quirk activated by bodily fluids (it’s important).

Word count: 7.3k

~~~~~

You nervously bit your lip, twiddling your hands and fingers to relive the anxiety creeping up your spine. Recovery Girl, the healing hero that decided to take you under her wing, decided it would be good idea for you to meet a colleague of hers to get some physical training. It was an important thing that you needed to learn despite your quirk.

The slender yet short woman took a weary glance at you. "Calm down (y/n), you have no reason to be nervous."

You jumped at the sound of her voice. "I-I know, what if they don't think I'm worth training though?" You've always been self councious of your quirk. Though it was insanely powerful, mainly for other people, it turned you into a physically sickly person. To simply put it, what you thought was not worth training.

A disappointed sigh left her lips. Recovery girl, still not looking her age as of yet, was a short woman with dark black hair, peppered with more white streaks than her natural color, dressed in a bun with her usual hero look going on. "Gran Torino won't push you too hard, besides he's training Toshinori! You know him right? The third year who's really strong?"

A slight blush tinted your cheeks. "Uh, y-yes ma'am!" God you hated it when you became a stuttering mess, especially when that specific third year was mentioned. Ever since you bumped into him in the halls you couldn't shake away your growing crush. It was totally embarrassing. Even your classmate, Enji Todoroki, lightly made fun of you for it.

Ms. Shuzenji lightly chuckled at your reddened expression. "Gran Torino said he would meet us in one of the gyms after school hours. Since you're a first year and you don't have your provisional license yet, we aren't supposed to train you off of school grounds." She further explained.

"When I get my license will it be alright for me to train off campus? Or could he just take me in for hero studies?"

"Technically you already are under hero studies because I'm training you, and because I'm a teacher I can't allow you to train off school grounds." The two of you turned a corner, now face to face with the large door separating you two from the racket going on on the other side. Both of you exchanged a confused look before opening the doors.

From what you were witnessing, you probably shouldn't have agreed to working with Gran Torino.

The yellow blur flew from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall just to slam his feet into the poor boy's body. Each attack seemed more painful than the last as he desperately tried to keep up with his sensei.

Toshinori paused, as did Gran Torino, and excitedly straightened his stance. With a finger pointing in your general direction his face lit up. "Your that first year I bumped into! Gran Torino you should have told me who-!"

His spat was quickly cut off by a pair of feet slamming against his ribs. The blond flew across the gym and into the concrete walls, dust fuming around his now hunched over form. "Don't get distracted, Toshinori." Torino scolded.

The average height hero turned, now facing the two female across the room. "So this is (l/n)? Nice to meet you." He said with a slight wave.

Recovery girl tapped your shoulder and motioned to the suffering boy, telling you to heal him without using her words. "Pl-pleasure to meet you too, sir." Quickly nodding in both of the hero's directions, you scurried over to the third year you unfortunately developed a crush over.

"Um, Toshinori Senpai, are you hurt?" 'What am I saying? Of course he's hurt!' Your flustered mumbling almost went unnoticed.

"Yeah, yeah, probably broke a rib... again." His blond hair framed his smiling face, the overly joyous expression only bringing you more concern.

"Again?! Here, let me help." You wrapped your arms around his form and lifted him into a seating position, doing your best to keep him upright. "Alright so this might be weird, but, are you okay with kissing me?" You twisted your face in a sad excuse for guilt.

Toshinori found it funny, but unexpected none the less. "K-kiss you?!" His face burst into a deep red blush while his words came out as coughs.

"Y-Yeah! I mean or lick you, whatever floats your boat I don't judge."

Gran Torino wondered over to the youthful hero. "So she's the healer? The one you wanted me to train alongside Toshinori right?"

She nodded and turned to look at her addresser. "Her healing is stronger than mine, and there are no repercussions on the person she uses it with. If the two of them get to know each other they could be an amazing team."

"Healing stronger than yours huh? How does it work?"

"Bodily fluids like blood and saliva." Shuzenji paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. "Her quirk has been used in ways it shouldn't have been used."

Gran Torino furrowed his brows and looked at the two students. Toshinori already looked much better than before. His skin seemed healthier, pained expression replaced with a bright red face, and the blood smeared on his mouth being wiped away like a memory. Still, he soaked in the new information as he watched the students embarrass themselves.

"Does she know about one for all?"

"No, but she's trustworthy enough to tell, eventually at least."

"Alright, alright, I'll train her."

~~~

After a few months of training under Gran Torino and Toshinori, you had grown a little bit stronger. At least as strong as you were able to get. Toshinori on the other hand made a lot more progress, his training also getting far more intense than you will ever be able to handle.

Enji tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. He gave you a disappointed yet concerned look. "You need to focus, I don't want to help you with History again."

"Ah, sorry, sorry." He scoffed and grabbed his stuff to leave the classroom. "Wait for me!" You yelped, quickly stuffing your things in your bag to chasing after him. "Your legs are too long!"

The two of you wondered into the cafeteria and settled in your seats. You shuffled things around in your bag as Enji started to eat, you could feel him watching and judging you. "What?"

He slurped up his hot soba, taking his time before he decided it would be okay to explain his judgement. "You have been training with that third year huh? Yagi, isn't it?"

"O-oh! Um, yeah. Toshinori, he's been helping me get stronger despite my quirk's draw back." You shifted in your seat under his intense glare.

"And?" He pressed on.

"Oh you know, he's helping me learn how to fight and get physically stronger. Nothing too special. Why do you ask?"

A certain blond revealed himself, his bright smile almost blinding as he smacked his tray on the table next to you. "Hey (y/n), Todorok-kun!"

You jumped and covered your reddening face with your hands. "Ah! Hello Toshi-senpai!"

Enji glanced between the two of you, both of you have been rather close lately and the redhead was developing theories that have been plaguing his mind. "That's why I ask." He pointed to your bright red face.

Toshinori almost spat out his water when he glanced at your red face. "Woah! Todoroki-kun, it's nothing like that! Haha!"

"Y-Yeah! We're just training!" You spat out.

Enji just gave you a look, but overall decided against pressing further. Instead he sighed and glared at the third year.

You couldn't blame him though, Toshi was easily considered as strong as the pros, and Enji wanted to be on top of them all. He most likely saw him as competition.

You lightly laughed and tapped Enji's shoulder. "Don't over think it. Besides let's be honest, I need a lot more help than you do." You have the redhead a delicate smile, still he kept his condescending look.

"Don't you have to do chemistry homework you skipped?"

"Oh shit! That's next period!" You yelped and began the homework you skipped last night.

"Geez, I remember chemistry, I really struggled with that one." Toshi exclaimed, leaning back with his cheeks stuffed with pork cutlet and rice. "I can't help you with that one, (y/n)-chan."

"Don't worry, I'm surprisingly good at math and science. It's the other subjects I struggle with." You stuffed your face with your food as you quickly solved the problems on the sheet. "Enji actually helps me with the other ones, I help him with chemistry and maths."

"I don't need your help." Todoroki snapped back.

"Sure." Came out your muffled sarcasm. "Do you want me to check your homework?"

There was a slight pause, Toshinori placing his hand over his mouth to stop his growing laughter.

"Yes."

~~~

That was the beginning of the three of you. Toshi quickly climbed up the ranks as the number one hero. He left for America for a while, but kept in touch with you as you finished school and tried to make a name for yourself.

Enji quickly surpassed you, but he still stayed your dear friend. He found an organization and followed behind Toshi, climbing up the ranks and making a name at the early age of twenty.

They were strong, powerful, and you were everything else. Weak. The only thing you had going for you was your quirk, and even then it was taxing on your body.

You joined a smaller hero agency and continued developing your quirk. With your skill in chemistry you learned you can convert your bodily fluids into pill form. Though they don't work as well, it allows you to give people a full heal without loosing yourself.

Though you never seemed to be as lucky as you hoped. The hero you had come to know and trust abused your kindness, his other sidekicks finding it funny to stuff you full of their cocks and use you as a toy.

You never felt so humiliated and destroyed in your entire life. What started as a simple conversation drastically changed into the hero's using your quirk as an excuse to do as they pleased. They even threatened to ruin your career as a hero if you told anyone... but you just couldn't keep quiet.

That night you drove away, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as the horrid feeling and taste lingered. You drove all the way to the current number nine's house and knocked on his door at 2:48 am. He lived alone, still focusing on climbing up the ranks to be number one.

Despite not seeing him in months and thinking you were only a distraction, he let you in.

Enji held you close as you sobbed and told him what happened, your words chocking on your cries. He let you clean up and stay for the night, as you didn't feel safe alone anymore. You slept on the couch that night, unbeknownst to you Enji called up Toshinori.

The three of you met up the next day to expose the so called heroes that defiled you. Without Enji and Toshinori, you wouldn't have been able to tell anyone, that or you would never be the hero you've always wanted to be.

You constantly look back on that day. You couldn't help but appreciate what your two friends did for you, especially when you are reminded of them. You would give anything to help them. Anything.

You joined All Might in his quest for heroism, becoming his sidekick and healing people he saved. He loved working with you, and you loved working with him. The spark between the two of you was obvious from the beginning, and as the two of you worked together the spark only grew.

You left for a while though, a well-known hero asking for your help in America. You bought a small apartment and began your own.

~~~

"Wait... what? He-he's...." You voice cracked, hand lightly tracing the bow on the flat triangular box on your bed. Smooth wrapping providing false comfort over the situation over the phone. Gran Torino's gruff, pained voice echoed in your ears and in your brain.

"Toshinori needs your healing, that or I'm afraid it will be the end of the Symbol of Peace." You shivered at his words, turning your back to your bed to sit down. Your hands rubbed your face and eyes from stress, not just from Toshi's conditions but the strange gifts you keep finding in your house. "Recovery girl already stabilized him, but your healing should finish the job."

"I understand, uh, I'll book a ticket-"

"Don't, we already bought a private plane ticket, we don't want the media to get involved." Gran Torino finished, sighing behind the screen. He must be feeling the same things you were feeling; stress and anxiety. Despite the stress he continued, giving the details of the flight he bought.

"Alright, alright. I'll get some pills ready and pack. Take care." He lightly chuckled, probably nodding behind the screen, before ending the call.

You dropped you phone on your bed and sighed. The hand that was tracing the wrapped gift paused over the red satin bow. A sense of dread crawled up your spine making you shiver.

You wanted to throw the thing away and let it rot in your dark closet, but after finally deciding to open the other ones up you decided that wasn't a good idea. Whoever has been sending you the few gifts wanted something you were too afraid to give.

Yesterday you opened the first gift, one with a purple bow and silver wrapping paper, and found a beautiful sun dress with a letter. At first you thought it was a fan, after all it wasn't too strange for you to find fans who gave you gifts like this, so you ignored the red flag of finding it on your temporary apartment door step.

But when you glanced at the letter, your blood froze. Written in fancy cursive, penmanship you could easily call perfect, was an alarming letter about compliments you could dismiss as a little strange. That was the second red flag.

The next few gifts had letters as well, each one more descriptive and alarming than the last. One described how entertaining it was for you to be so close to the number one hero All Might, and how the sender would enjoy taking you from him.

So when you found another gift, this time wrapped in a red bow with dark grey wrapping, you wanted to puke. You debated opening it up to save yourself some sanity and stress, but you were more afraid of the repercussions of not seeing what's inside.

With shaky breaths and an even shakier hand you unveiled the mystery box. You never felt so much dread in your life until you saw what was under the letter.

A gorgeous, obviously expressive set of black lingerie brought bile into your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you tried to swollen the nasty mixture as you continued your investigation. The set was lacey in a sultry way, seductive like it was meant for a lover to wear on their honeymoon.

You hated it, you feared it.

Especially the letters, you still didn't know who sent them but that only made you more afraid. So you read it, maybe you would know who was sending you these things, maybe you could get them arrested and save yourself the stress while you go heal Toshi.

'Dear (y/n) (l/n),

I consider myself a patient man, one that will wait until the time is right. I wish for you to wear the gift I have given you, it would greatly please me to see you in it when I come for you. So save yourself the pain-'

You stopped and gagged, crumpling up the carefully written letter and throwing it across the room. Anxious tears streamed down your face as you violently shook.

Their going to come for you? Why? When? Where? Here? No no no, not here. You'll be off back home in Japan, away from this sad apartment and away from the creepy stalker.

You glanced over at the lingerie, should you wear it? What would they do if you didn't wear it? Are they watching you now?

Once more you shivered, this time taking the lingerie and holding it close. You were terrified of the consequences so you decided to wear it. All you had to do now was get some pills ready and pack for the plane ride. So stop stressing.

~~~

You held your bags close, the satchel with your quirk infused pills even closer. Your anxiety was spiking, more so than it has ever before. You wore half of your hero costume, having on the white lab coat, jaw guard, and belts with sleeping syringes you created yourself. Usually you have heels with a dress shirt and pencil skirt, but instead you decided to wear something more comfortable. So you wore grey sweat pants and a black tank top under your white coat.

Grey and white mountains littered the horizon while vibrant greenery and large trees rose high into the sky. You exited the small plane and wondered over to Gran Torino. A solemn expression decorated your features as you met up with the group.

Gran Torino, Sir Nighteye, and Tsukauchi waited for you, Tsu being the only one to smile back. "Hey, Witch Doctor are you ready to head out?" Tsu wore a white dress shirt and black slacks with his favorite brown trench coat over his shoulders.

Gran Torino and Sir Nighteye wore their full hero costumes despite the long ride ahead.

Your smile widened ever so slightly as you nodded. "Please, call me (y/n). And yes, I have the pills if he wants to go that route, it should be more than enough to heal him all the way." You lifted up the satchel and waved it around.

They knew how your quirk worked, bodily fluids. So they understood how people in the past took advantage of that, so they were a little surprised when you mentioned giving All Might a choice. They didn't mention it though. "Could-can you... tell me about Toshi?"

Gran Torino grunted before waking to a few cars nearby. "His stomach was pretty much gutted, he's hanging on a thread thanks to Recovery Girl. He would've died otherwise."

Nighteye looked away with an uncomfortable expression. "If he-he didn't hold on for so long...." He mumbled away without wanting to finish his sentence.

"He'll be fine," Finished Tsukauchi. "He is fine, he just needs some help getting better."

You listened to the policeman, his enthusiasm seemingly forced and full of anxiety. "What happened to him?" You asked again, this time with more force.

They all stayed silent as they continued walking to the cars, so you stopped. "L-listen, I know why it might be hard to talk about, but-but I would like to know. There-there has been some crazy shit happening lately, and you said he was injured a few days ago? It just-just seems too... too coincidental? I guess?"

Tsukauchi turned to you with a worried expression. "Like what? Why haven't you told any of us?"

"I was-it is just-just a stalker but... I'm scared, you know? It started four-five days ago and it just seems too coincidental." You lightly laughed at yourself, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try and calm your riled up nerves. "Never mind, I'm-I'm just stressing out. Maybe...."

Nighteye adjusted his glasses and peered into your soul. "Why would it be coincidental? What else happened?"

"There-there were letters. Letters with information only a few people should know about." Your body curled in on itself. "Some things about Nana, and you guys, and Toshi. Just a bunch of mumbo jumbo that has me scared."

Tsukauchi placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let's talk about this in the car." His delicate smile helped put you at ease, so you nodded and continued. "And if you really are worried maybe Nighteye can look into your future?"

The tall, suit wearing man scoffed as he entered the passengers seat. "I'm not exactly okay with something like that."

"It would help." You meekly said, getting into the car. The men took a nice long look at you, how you shivered and stared with a furrowed brow. It was like you were playing out scenarios of all the bad things that could happen to you. "But I understand-!"

"You look pathetic like that." Nighteye shifted in his seat as Gran Torino started the car. "I'll do for you, but you can't change what will happen. I've tried."

You shyly smiled at him and nodded your head. "That's fine with me, I just want to mentally prepare myself, ya' know?"

"That's a good idea, Witch Doct-I mean (y/n)." Tsu corrected himself and shifted next to you.

"Right, thanks guys." You and Sir looked into each others eyes, a small shiver running up your spine as his left eye turned into a purple-black storm.

All four of you waited as the car sped through the Japanese wilderness. The large green trees provided shade and small rays of sunlight peeking through. The road was long and curved on the side of the mountain you were descending. It was peaceful, calm... too calm.

The thick air was interrupted by a gasp, Nighteye's calculating eyes shifting to the sunroof of the small car. His body was rigid, his face twisted in growing fear. "Stop the car!"

Gran Torino smashed the breaks causing the car to screech and dangerously swerve to a stop. "Whats-?!"

He couldn't finish his sentence before a large, swirling purple mass emerged from nothing before the group. A large hand emerged, a rocky face following behind.

"Get our of the car!" Sir Nighteye screeched, grabbing Gran Torino and pulling him out with him. Tsukauchi dashed out and joined the others against the cliff side.

You unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but you were too late.

The large figure fully emerged and smacked his hand against the car, knocking it off the steep cliff side and into the mass of trees below. You screamed and held your body as close as possible, the car shoving you every which way. Glass shattered, metal crushed against itself, you hit your head so much you could taste the blood in your mouth.

A loud crash echoed through the forest floor, bird and animals fleeing to a far away safety. You coughed, trying to drag your body out the broken window next to you.

Your arm shrieked in pain, it must be broken, you thought. Still you refused to be a sitting duck. You clawed your way out of the car, praying all of your things are in one piece.

Gran Torino appeared in front of you and helped you out before hopping away. The giant from before jumped down beside the car, the ground around him crumbling under his feet. "Everything I do is for my master." The giant chanted his mantra, his eyes glueing to your form with heart stopping ferocity.

Nighteye fell from above and slammed his feet against the giant's head, knocking him off his rhythm.

He grunted and stumbled into a tree, trampling the plant in the process. He took the broken tree and rips it from the ground just to chuck it back at Sir Nighteye.

"Watch out!" You swallowed your blood and spit to heal yourself just enough to get into the fight. You shoved your support mask over the lower half of your face, letting it pierce through your skin so you can drink your blood. "Torino! Make sure Tsukauchi is okay, I'll go for Sir!"

"Get in and get out!" Quickly you two split up.

You dashed over to Sir Nighteye and pulled him from the colliding tree. You drank your blood and building saliva to slowly heal your wounds, your broken arm mending itself enough for you to use it.

The tree burst into splinters. Sir found his footing and pulled you behind another tree. "Are you okay?" He asked, holding you close while looking at the giant behind him.

"Yeah, yeah. What did you see in your vision? We'll get out right?"

Sir Nighteye bit his bottom lip. He didn't know what he should do, tell her and give up or try and fight fate. "That's not important right now." He commented calmly, but internally he was at war.

He saw your future, one where you were taken after everyone else was too hurt to fight back. Gran Torino would jump in to try and save you, Tsukauchi begging for you be set free from the cliff side. Gran Torino would be caught and killed when he tries to save you, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Sir Nighteye almost debated letting you get caught just so the rest of them could get away unharmed.

You glanced at him before pulling the two of you were crushed by the giant. "Focus Sir! We need to group up with Torino and Tsu. This guy is really strong."

"We can't take him on." He blurted out.

"What do mean?" Your voice came out shaky, the giant already on his way to fight you two again. He trudged over and loomed above you and Sir, growling as he swiped Sir Nighteye away. The giant had a hint of a smile of his face when he gripped your form in his iron like grip.

You jolted in his hold and fumbled with your hero costume to pull out the syringes, all of them. Quickly you stabbed the giant's neck and pumped his system with five of your homemade concoctions.

Gran Torino grabbed Nighteye before he slammed against a tree, carefully putting the fading man on the ground. Torino stared up at your thrashing form, but before he could rush up to help you a hand tightly gripped his forearm. "Don't, if you go you'll die!"

Nighteye's grip tightened once he heard Tsukauchi scream from above.

"We can't let them take her, she's the only one that can heal Toshinori!" Gran Torino argued, thrashing away and dashing to save you.

The giant wobbled from the potent amount of drugs in is system, but it didn't stop him. A new purple portal formed in front of the two of you, and a newfound vigor was found in the giant. "Gran Torino!" Your voice echoed with unadulterated terror.

You could see him coming to help you, but you could also feel the giant prepare an attack against your friend. If you were taken Toshi wouldn't get the drugs, Gran Torino would get seriously injured if he got too close. You didn't want to see that happen, so you grabbed the satchel and threw it as hard as possible at Torino, smacking him against the face and knocking him to the ground.

The giant trudged into the portal with you over his shoulder, leaving your hero buddies in the ruined forest. He kneeled down and swayed from the drugs, letting you fall to the ground below him.

A man of purple mist and a dress vest walked over, his misty hands clamped over his front. "Witch Doctor," he addresses," I would appreciate it if you followed me."

You bit your lip, still being looked over by the giant man behind your hunched form. You wanted to ask a question, to yell and scream and thrash until they were too annoyed to keep you alive... but you were too afraid to even try.

Was this the man sending you the letters? Was this the legendary All For One Toshi warned you about? "Who-who are you?" Your voice betrayed you and cracked under your fear.

Yellow eyes evaluated your own (e/c) ones. The mist man in front of you seemed to be figuring out what happened to the woozy giant behind you, but you couldn't tell in those yellow voids of his. "My name is Kurogiri, now, follow me." His tone shifted into a more violent one.

You shivered under his gaze, a figure showing up beside him. A judgmental figure at that, short with large goggles and a mustache. Though this new addition discarded you with a quiet mutter under his breath.

Kurogiri finally had enough waiting and grabbed you by your wounded forearm, making you cringe as he pulled you through the dull halls of the facility. The environment was filled with dark greys, bright blues and a metallic shine. "Where are we going?"

"You are going to heal my master."

You didn't need to hear anymore before understanding what was going to happen. You pulled your injured arm from his grip, wincing at the pain, and ran as fast as you could.

Sadly you didn't get as far as you would have wanted. A purple portal swept you off your feet, making you fall into a new room entirely. Your body slammed against the hard floor without mercy.

Kurogiri sighed and stepped through a portal he made for himself, once again dragging you to your feet. The room was dark, but clean and barren none the less. The sounds that echoed through the room was that of a breathing machine and medical equipment.

"You may leave, Kurogiri. I'll take it from here."

A haunting voice shook you to your core, it was deep and threatening, yet mocking and intrigued. The man of mist turned on his heels and left, closing the portal behind him. Your heat beat loudly in your chest, suffocating and causing you to hyperventilate.

The voice boomed with laughter, a strained sound complimenting the 'wrrr's of the machines. "You have no reason to be afraid, (y/n)." The hands gripping the floor violently shook, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "Now come here."

His mammoth sized hand stalked out of the darkness covering his body, tempting you to take it. You could see the underlying of his mouth, bright white teeth gleaming in mockery. "I suggest you don't keep me waiting, I've been patient enough." He added.

Your feet acted on their own volition, moving you closer to the shadowed figure. He could probably hear your uneven breathing from the bed he sat in. Once you stood beside the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks, he roughly grabbed your wrists and pulled you on top of him. Your legs straddled his hips as he sat up, a sigh escaping his barely visible lips.

"I must confess, (y/n), I've had my eyes on you for quite sometime." His mocking tone brought more tears to fall. "At first I was going to take you after I killed Nana, just to torture All Might some more. Then I learned of your quirk and wanted it for myself, but it wouldn't exactly be useful if I took it would it?"

His mammoth hands wrapped tightly around your wrists, forcing them to cup his cheeks around his sickening smile. "I asked a question." His voice shifted into a scolding tone, his hands slipping from your arms to your waist.

"N-no, it wouldn't."

All For One's smile widened at your scared tone. "Are you scared?" He mocked. "Where's that smile All Might preaches, huh?" You jolted in his lap as his cold hands touched the flesh of your hips. He snickered at your skittish reactions. "You are much cuter up close, you know that?"

Submit or fight back? You tried that a long time ago, fighting back, and it made everything so much worse. You were afraid, terrified of fighting back against this man. Were you afraid of death? No, you never thought yourself to be, but maybe you were wrong. The suffocating feeling of him staring you down like prey made you think he was death itself. And that made you fucking terrified.

His humming and hands sliding your shirt up brought you back to reality. "Wa-wait!"

He grumbled and stopped. "Go on."

"I can heal you another way! It'll hurt less but-but it'll take a little longer." You stutter to try and save your skin, but the never faltering smile he gave told you it was all for not.

His hands also proved that theory. They roamed up your tank top, tapping each finger against your skin for more insult to injury. "You're so sweet, worrying about me. I'm sure you already know who I am, don't you?"

You nodded and tried to shift away from the man's touches. He groaned at the friction down below. Time stopped when you heard that noise, a meek squeak emitting from your throat. He mockingly laughed at the sound. "I'll take that as a yes."

He started to take off your clothes, gently, slowly, layer by layer. Shivers and tears shocked your body, you hated it, but you were too afraid to even think about fighting back. Pieces were thrown to the stone floor, your hero costume being stripped from you.

All For One's grin widened more than you thought possible. "You wore the lingerie I bought for you. I'm flattered." His hands cupped your covered breasts, the thumbs tracing the lace. You held back a mewl when he undid the clasp and started kneading the mounds. Forefingers and thumbs tweaked your nipples, pulling and pinching the sensitive flesh.

Your hands stayed glued to his face, the tips of your fingers grazed mauled flesh but quickly pulled away. The man below you noticed, chuckled, and forced your hands onto his mauled face again. "This is what your precious All Might did to me, cruel isn't it?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the odd sensation he forced in your finger tips. Calloused hands dragged down your waist to your panty line, pulling the clothe to the side. His thick finger ran up your slit, collecting the small amount of fluid that had built up. He returned it to his lips and dragged his tongue to lap up the liquid pleasure.

All For One shuddered and groaned at the taste. the man could feel your quirk taking effect, the burning sensation already taking hold the more he tasted. Animalistic pleasure grabbed him by the throat, his lips crashing into your own. He wanted more of that sweet taste, the taste that would heal him back into completion over and over and over again.

He wanted you, all of you.

Saliva mixed in both of your mouths as his tongue slipped past your lips. He groaned and tightened his already iron grip on your hips, your bones creaking under the strain. You meekly shrieked when he bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and drinking the blood.

The wound quickly healed up so he kept his assault, biting and sucking and drinking the blood. Your hands slid to his clothed chest, trying to push off.

All For One wasn't having it though, he stripped himself of his suit jacket and dress shirt and pulled your form closer to him. His clothed groin strained in his pants, you could feel it prodding your nether regions. One hand snaked into your (h/l) (h/c) hair to keep your lips locked with his, the other hand cupping and rubbing your sex.

You accidentally moaned into the kiss, earning a amused groan from your captor. The man let go of your bruising lips to listen to your cute mewls. His hands sped up, using the base of his palm to rub your clit as one of his thick fingers entered the sex.

He mercilessly pumped the finger, curling and prodding at the spongy spot inside you. Your legs trembled around him, hands sliding up to his shoulder for something sturdy to hold. You hated how pleasurable this felt, you hated how it was him who made you feel like this.

"St-sto-ah-p! I-I-!" He chuckled at your meek attempts, his lips crashing into your neck and biting harshly. "Gah!" You could feel the blood drip down your collar bone before being lapped up. All For One added another finger and scissored around to stretch you out.

You could feel the rumbling of his throat, the tightening and tensing of his muscles, all from your bodily fluids. Your own wounds lightly healing, leaving black and blue bruises in its wake.

He added a third figure, stuffing you full. His palm roughly hit your clit with each intense thrust. Your toes curled, stomach tensing. You could feel your release emerging, and he could tell. "Go on," He moaned. "Don't hold back."

Your legs clamped around his hips as your pleasure reached its peek. Throwing your head back you loudly moaned into the abyss of the dark room. Your release hitting like a truck as you shivered.

All For One laughed as he licked his fingers clean, both groaning from the taste and the pain shooting through his healing body. It was strange how his head tingled and burned as it healed. Arms wrapped tightly around your form, glueing you to his chest as you came down from your high.

As you sunk lower in his lap, sweat face against his chest, you could hear the light echo of his belt buckle being undone. Your pleasure foggy mind didn't follow the sound, only wanting to soak in his warmth and go to sleep. You squirmed around his movements until something hard rubbed your clit.

Hands gripped your hips harshly, lifting you up suddenly just thrust you balls deep onto his hard cock. You screamed and clawed at his shoulders, drawing a small amount of blood.

You never felt so stuffed in your life, his cock pressing in all the right places without giving you any extra room. His head pressed against your crevix, prodding at your womb. Your slick helped ease the pain but his massive size kept you writhing under his grip.

All For One's rigid breath echoed like a dark mantra to your pained squeaks. He lifted you by your hips and slammed you back down.

You strangled out a moan with each deep thrust. The hard cock jabbed your insides to make you see stars, your body warming up to the abuse. You gasped every time his head pushed against your entrance of your womb.

Your breasts bounced, the liquid between your thighs drenching his dress pants, and the friction between your legs riding you closer to the edge of ecstasy. He thrust his hips to meet yours as he lifted you up and kept pushing you back down with feverish force. Each thrust bumped painfully your insides, pushing farther and deeper.

"You're not a virgin are you? Has All Might fucked you like this?" All For One's tone changed from the usual mocking to seething hatred. "Has he marked you like this? Ravaged your cunt until he had you screaming?" He lifted you all the way to his tip and slammed you down hard.

The head of his cock pushed through your crevix and into your womb from his force. You shrieked from the painful feeling, but the sadistic sensation pushed you over the edge.

Your walls clamped tightly around his length and gushed liquid pleasure on his lap. The man loudly groaned when your walls sucked him deeper. He kept going, thrusting and pushing deeper, faster, and stronger.

The liquid from your body twisting his flesh back to its original state. It hurt like hell, you could tell as his large hands crushed your hips like grapes. Fat tears streamed down your reddened cheeks, sobs echoing through the mostly empty room.

All For One's thrusts quickly became sloppy, obviously chasing his own release. "He's been replaced, I'll fill you up and mark you as my own! He'll never see you again, I'll make sure of it!"

Hot ropes of white spilled into your womb effectively making you see stars. Both of you tensed and shook at the force of the orgasm. Your third climax tore into the last of your energy, making you pass out from sheer exhaustion.

All For One released his tight hold on your hips, eyeing your form with a deranged smile. Bruises lined your neck, collarbone, and hips. Your quirk would heal them a bit, but you would need time to allow them to fully heal.

The dangerous man, on the other hand, was healed to the point where he wouldn't need the breathing machine to live. He wasn't healed all the way, that would only happen after a few more sessions, but it was a start.

His gaze fell on your soft features, no longer perturbed by his actions and instead twisted into a delicate serenity. You looked peaceful blissfully unaware of what he had in store for you, not that he minded.

~~~

You shift in your sleep, scrunching your nose at some unknown pain down below. A plush pillow rest below your head, and almost acted like a chain keeping you down. Despite the comfort, you forced yourself to get up. Groaning, you threw off your covers and stretched out like a cat. Wincing from the pain and sitting up in the overly warm and soft bed.

You took the opportunity to soak in your surroundings. The colors were warm, a dresser parallel with a door on the opposite side of the room. Everything looked meticulously placed and expensive. The room was large and had a door off to the side, probably the bathroom, with a pair of sliding doors, most likely a closet, and an archway leading to another room.

You stumbled out of the bed and limped around the room. A mirror on the wall revealed what you looked like. Hickies littered your neck and collarbone, your once broken arm wrapped in bandages to help it heal. A lavender colored nightgown draped just above your still shaky thighs. You winced and lifted it up, more bandages around your bruised hips.

He was rough, that was something you could remember. You probably didn't heal him all the way either, that must be why he kept you alive.

You jumped and turned in the direction of some new noises. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room next over so you peeked behind the archway to see who decided to show up.

All For One slipped off his large dress shoes with his back to you. You could kill him, couldn't you? The man's back was facing you, all you needed was a blade or blunt object. You glanced around the room but found nothing, then again you had the feeling he already knew where and what you were doing.

"How did you sleep, (y/n)?" You swallowed the lump of spit in your throat as you gripped the archway. "Hm?" He peered over his shoulder, the sickening smile that haunted your nightmares stretching across his thin lips. His head was still mangled, but it was now healed into a large, clean scar.

"Why am I here?" You asked.

He turned to fully face you and stepped nearer, his bulky form looming over your frail body like a veil. His hand moved to your cheek, caressing the flesh in an all too intimate act of affection. "I think you already know the answer to that." He mused, dipping to let his lips graze the shell of your ear.

You shivered.

"You're mine."

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #Yandere all for one #Yandere all for one x Reader #Yandere bnha x reader #Yandere mha x reader #toshinori x reader #Yandere shigaraki #Yandere shigaraki x reader #yander afo #Yandere afo x reader #yandere smut #mha #bnha

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hamphobicbasil · 3 years ago

Note

Could u elaborate about the dsmp story being bad? Not a rabid/brain dead fan, just genuinely curious and I enjoy reading people's rants lolol

oh you dont know the floodgates you just opened

a few things:

1. despite not liking the creators of the dsmp anymore, I don't actually hate most of them. [the ones that are particularly unsavory fall outside of this of course] so all that I'm saying i truly mean in a critical sense towards the story, its also just all purely my opinion as someone who enjoys fictional and fantasy stories and who like criticizing works to see what it does well and what it doesn't do well

2. for clarification I'm going to use the c![name] to indicate when I'm talking about the characters. Don't get me wrong, I think its annoying too but its the only way I'm gonna be able to write this thing without getting something across the wrong way yknow?

3. I stopped watching the streams after November 16th, [save for one Techno one but I closed out after a particularly bad story beat lol] and so all information coming afterward is all second hand from either me seeing people on twt talk abt it or people dming me. All i really know is up to dream's imprisonment and some stuff past that.

4. This is mostly aimed towards the "main" story, so stuff abt the badlands, eggpire, and whatnot are briefly mentioned.

anyways uh, i'll try to be brief but also include enough information to get why i feel the way i do on some stuff across

A. Performances Alright obviously these people are all streamers, so obviously they might not be the best actors, and hell no one is even asking that of them. However, when you're telling a story that's based on the audio with the visuals kinda coming to a second, it's gotta be pretty strong. I will say, some of the best actors in my opinion are Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo. I would include Ranboo but I never watched any of his story bits or story streams so I can't say much. Wilbur and Tommy are excellent in selling their character's emotions and feelings, when I watch the stream I don't feel like I'm watching an rp but an actual thought-out story yknow? And one of my favorite Tubbo examples was in the Hog Hunt video whenever Techno attacked him, he sounded genuinely afraid and I believed everything his character was feeling.

However, unfortunately, not everyone is gonna be that good. And I'm gonna say it; Dream and Techno have to be the worst out of the entire cast. I understand Techno's whole character is this monotoned badass, however, when really emotional moments hit I feel like he never lets that fall, and a lot of intense moments just ring hollow. And I'm sorry but Dream's attempts at being intimidating leave me laughing whenever I watch them. It feels like he watched that one scene from The Marriage with Adam Driver and Scarlett Johannson and said "Oh this is what good acting looks like! Just yelling." His whole "I don't give a FUCK about Spirit!" speech isn't as great as people keep making it out to be. And whenever he tries to act coy when being a villain it feels like a guy reading the script for the first time, a bit like he's trying too hard. I have more problems with his character but his portrayal certainly doesn't help.

Everyone else is fine, and I don't feel strongly either way about a lot of them.

B. The "Lore" Okay first off, I can't be the only one who thinks it's silly that people are calling the dsmp's story "lore" when it's not, it's the fucking story. Lore indicates backstory to either the world or the characters, which a lot of the streams don't really pertain to. This is a really petty section but god it's a weird pet peeve of mine.

Other than the misusage of "lore" vs "story", the actual lore and world-building of the world are so lackluster that new elements can be introduced whenever and it often feels cluttered or not well thought out at all. And here's the thing, I feel like if the writers sat down just for a few minutes to establish world rules and general history, a lot of this could be solved! but so much is made up on the spot that it starts to feel like they're grabbing at straws to keep people invested, trying to reach that next high and intense story beat without actually earning it.

C. The Egg / Eggpire This is a pretty minor note since I was only invested in the Egg storyline for a little bit, but god it's so underused that it's almost embarrassing. Bad has provided this super interesting antagonistic force that's infecting the SMP, can control people, and who one of our main character is immune to, and it's just never used or even talked about again? Now I understand if he wanted to keep it to a side storyline only, however, to introduce this borderline eldritch creature and force within the world and then never have it dealt with is so weird.

D. The Writing Oh boy this is. kinda a big one. Now I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty obvious I have a bias for the Wilbur writing over the current team [that consisting of Dream, Quackity, and Tommy mostly]. I don't this his writing is perfect by any means, the characters constantly bringing up traitors got obnoxious after a while, and writing Hamilton but in Minecraft really isn't the modern Shakespeare or anything. However, I think his exploration of characters and plot progression was a lot more thought out and well planned, like he actually had two brain cells behind the story yknow? The current team I think fails to be as emotional or even impactful, things happened too fast and my god was everything drowned in angst for so long.

Don't get me wrong, you gotta have your characters face hardships to make them reach their goal believable, but some of the shit they put the characters through just felt like too much. From c!Tubbo's constant comparison to c!Schlatt [who btw, fucking ordered his death and kept him from his friends in a nation he felt trapped in] and on a side note, i kinda really fucking dislike the "c!Schlatt dad!!" au's or the au's where c!Tubbo inherits some of Schlatt's features, it would be like c!Tommy getting a c!Dream mask after his exile, it's feels so weird yet people eat that shit up for some reason.

But god, did c!Tommy get the brunt of it all and in retrospect after his final death, it kinda feels really fucking gross. Now obviously, I'm not trusting any of these people to write decent mental health representation, but c!Tommy's PTSD and how it was explored was just degrading. [Specifically the scene in that one Techno stream where he saw the final control room from the first war, and had a flashback / panic attack where he started calling out for c!Dream. I understand this is an actual thing people with PTSD will experience, but it felt so fucking stereotypical it got on my nerves. I actually had to close out of the stream because it made me feel sick, fiction shouldn't leave you feeling that way.] And don't get me started on how they basically reused the formula from the previous arc. [Problem introduced -> Tensions rise as things start to fall apart -> Big confrontation -> Exile -> Return from Exile -> Blowing up L'Manberg, again.]

And speaking of characters-

E. Character Arcs, or the lack of them In my genuine opinion, some of these characters' arcs are so disappointing. Especially c!Tommy's. I'm not one to believe that he was a "selfish" character or anything, however, his goals were simply set on his discs and maybe c!Tubbo, he didn't have much outside that. However, L'Manberg gave him something to care about, he gave up his discs for it and he fought for it tooth and nail, I think it taught him to open up to others and trust more. It was a great character arc for him to have, seeing him still fight even after his first exile alongside c!Wilbur, to return safely to the nation that he and his found family had built.

But then his second exile happened, and I feel like all of that was undone.

c!Tommy's exile genuinely pisses me off for so many reasons. It's not that characters can't have their low points after reaching a major change or feeling like they've "completed" their arcs or anything, but it's more of the fact that it seems like he's never going to heal that feels like a spit in the face, especially to people who might have had setbacks like that before. Progress isn't linear, sometimes things happen and you get knocked back down, it can take a while to get back up, but I don't think c!Tommy's character is ever going to be allowed to get back up. From c!Dream, who pretty much was a constant abuser in his life, killing him then reviving him, and his still fractured relationship with c!Tubbo, which by the way I have a had time believing they would still be friends after all that happened, it feels like he can never get a win and it's generally kinda a shit way to treat your characters who have been abused. Of course, not all abused characters are going to get happy endings, I'm not trying to dictate that they all should, but c!Tommy deserves one and the fact that it's so obscure feels shitty.

Side note: we still don't have a canon reason to give a shit abt the discs. Like I'm sorry but without some sorta connection to the MacGuffin why should we give a shit about him getting them other than "he wants them lol". Like hell, I would even accept the classic "they were the last gifts from his parents" or something, but we still don't have a reason.

c!Tubbo also lacks a fulfilling arc as well, from someone who started out as a yes man, he has progressed a bit into having his own interests first, but besides that sometimes his character makes me so. depressed. He's easily one of the most pushed around and hated characters within the story, all for being a kid who didn't know what to do and he's in the same vein as c!Tommy; these kids can't get a break. Also, his anti-violence beliefs morphing into the "lets kill c!Techno lol!" bit was so out of place and without proper build-up it was like. what. And now he's building nukes?? god c!Tubbo makes me so sad because he's kicked around constantly and never given a chance to grow.

Another small note, I also don't really enjoy c!Techno at all. Besides the previously stated reasons of lack of emotions when they're really needed, I find his character to be weirdly pretentious. He talks as if he's constantly been betrayed and hurt but I personally, don't see it? Like, I think one of the main examples was the Pogtopia vs. Manberg war, yknow he wanted to end the government but they just reinstated it after they won = c!Techno upset. But this doesn't make sense to me because why did he think otherwise? The entire time c!Tommy had talked about taking back their nation and starting again, so the fact that c!Techno suddenly thought there would be a sudden change is, to put it bluntly, kinda fucking stupid. I don't want to say that he "plays the victim" or anything because that feels a bit harsh, but his character feels so far up his own ass that I can't enjoy him.

I have a major grip with c!Dream as well, but that's getting it's own fucking section.

F. L'Manberg This is a quick note before we get into the, forgive me for this, endgame, of this entire rant, since the next two sections are tied together. But god, L'Manberg makes me upset because it feels like they gave up on it.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that it is supposed to be c!Wilbur's "unfinished symphony", the thing that destroyed a once charismatic and widely loved man, his attempt at power that utterly ruined him. But the fact that it just got blown up in the end after everything and left to rot felt like such a waste of time. From the first war, to Pogtopia, to even c!Tommy's exile, it all felt fucking worthless in the end, and the story is actively closer to how it was when it started now more than ever. I wished it was actually allowed to exist and continue to be a peaceful place in what is a chaotic world, but no it was just snuffed out because why dedicate to this concept of finding others you can band together with and feel safe. fuck that noise apparently?

G. The Villains Now villain-wise, I'm only talking about c!Dream [during the first war], c!Schlatt, and c!Wilbur. And believe it or not, this is actually mostly positive.

Now I'm not gonna lie, c!Dream as a staring antagonist wasn't bad actually, he posed a genuine and threatening opposition to L'Manberg, even if we didn't know his real intentions or motivations as to why he was against it. He's lucky in this sense because he didn't have to be good, he had to be passable. If anything, he felt more like an anti-hero than a tyrant or traditional villain, and my god do I wish he kept this theme going forward.

Now quick disclaimer, I don't like JSchlatt as much as the next guy, he's an adult man who should know better than to joke about some sensitive topics and act the way that he does. But the one thing I'll ever give him is that damn, was he a good actor for his character.

Now here's the thing, c!Schlatt wasn't particularly deep at all. He had no real motivations behind his exile of c!Wilbur and c!Tommy other than getting competition out of the way, had no reason to act the way that he did and yknow? that's fine. The reason why he worked was from his performance alone, he was actually intimidating. When he came onto the stream and was doing his typical bad guy stuff, it was actually intense to see what he would do. Whenever he would almost catch c!Tommy back in Manberg, whenever he would begin to pressure c!Tubbo, it put you on the edge of your seat and it felt like everything would change at the drop of a pen. He's a villain to be a villain, and this works out because he's just charismatic and well put together enough to make it interesting, even without the backstory or motives.

c!Wilbur however, is much more tragic, and the best villain of the story. He essentially was the "mentor turned evil" trope and it felt terrible watching him descend into madness, unable to trust barely anyone except for c!Techno and c!Tommy. Hell, in the end I think he still cared about them both, despite losing everything. Sure, he blew up L'Manberg, but there was still a smidge of the old c!Wilbur in there made everything he did feel melancholic. His death at the hands of his father after achieving his final wish was chilling, and something I still think about.

Until yknow, Ghostbur came back way too soon to let people feel his loss as a character within that world. And then he got revived, pretty much-undoing everything that moment meant for his character lol.

And then there's the worst one:

H. Dream. I'm going to be completely honest, c!Dream is one of the main reasons why I dislike the current dsmp stuff so much. Outside of his actions as a person, the way Dream decided to write his character as this overpowered madman of the dsmp really just. destroyed any intrigue that he could've had. Perhaps this is from my growing dislike towards him, manifesting into a bias towards his character, but god I cannot fathom why people try to insist he's interesting when he has as much depth as a fucking puddle.

And here's the thing, I'm not even entirely against c!Dream being a villain, hell I think he would've been great as an anti-hero if anything. Make him sympathetic but not through c!George to get your precious "DNF" points or anything, but show him actually caring about the people within the dsmp, including c!Tommy and c!Tubbo. This would make his rival status with them just a bit more complicated, sure they're enemies, however, he doesn't want to hurt or kill them, and there's still a level of friendship there that keeps them bonded when things get super bad. This could've been super interesting to see, the first villain of the story receiving a sorta redemption arc then descending into madness as he started to fixate on being a god. This is all how I feel personally, but god do I feel like it would've been better than his current character, and hell would've worked with how he was during the Pogtopia arc, before the war that is. I'm not trying to tell Dream how to write his own character, but there are so many other ways he could've done the madman seeking to become god rather then. whatever the hell we got.

Because instead, we got this power-mad asshole who does things... because he can? And that's one of my major issues: he tries to surround his character in mystery to make him "intriguing" but it's kinda like c!Techno, it comes off as pretentious. Not only that, but you cannot keep waving around this mystery of a backstory without ever actually revealing it. I know the story isn't over, but c!Dream is effectively at his lowest point, now would be the time to reveal his backstory. But no just keep it in the dark and keep everyone guessing, that's totally fun and not at all tiring and annoying. (sarcasm, if anyone needs it)

And back to his performance, he doesn't sell this aloof, cynical and strategic warrior that has perfected the blade or some shit, he comes off as some angry guy yelling on reddit. which i don't need to tell you, isn't intimidating. It feels like he's trying to have c!Schlatt's intimidation combined with c!Wilbur's depth, but instead he's like a little brother who's trying to hard to mimic his older brother and is kinda embarrassing himself.

but other then that i dont feel too strongly abt the dsmp lol

but seriously, these are the main complaints I have abt the story tbh, I could probably talk about more but I wont because man. this is probably gonna get me in trouble if any of the hyper-dsmp fans actually read it.

#wow this is long #txt #anti dsmp #anti dream #dsmp crit #dsmp critical #yeah im tagging it i dont give a shit #dream crit #dream critical #the story is shit yo!

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bangtancentricsblog · 4 years ago

Text

》 Unbeknownst to Jungkook, there is a rise in popularity for a particular human holiday, one of which leaves him blindsided and scrambling to find the absolute perfect gift for his one and only. They say food is the quickest way to a man’s heart but no one ever said it didn't work on women.

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff, established relationship, a dash of angst, and a pinch of smut

❒ alternative universe: fantasy, college/university, werewolf, witch,

❒ rating: 18+

❒ word count: 12.4 k+

warnings/disclosures: werewolf Jungkook, witch MC, kinda tsundere mc, cat shifters Yoongi and Yoonji, Fairy Jimin, Siren Taehyung, MC is on the bigger side!, Merman Seokjin, Elf Hoseok, Vampire Namjoon, friendly fondling from yoonji, heteroflexible/bicurious yoonji, boob talk, mc is not good at cooking, misunderstanding on jungkook’s part, baking mishaps, frazzled jungkook, not so helpful/helpful yoongi, half-hearted frenemies Jungkook and Yoonji, Jungkook cries a little, yoonji jumping to conclusion, sense8 references, harry potter references, killing eve reference, way too many allusions to sex, jungkook isn't a good at baking, always reliable Seokjinnie, chubby POC Bunny shifter OC, whiney JK and MC, ‘rich’ jungkook, not edited i tried to i really did, taste testers Jimin and Taehyung, SMUT is at the end, bad smut at the end, food play (mostly them getting turned on by feeding each other), fingering (ew why do we call it that? Finger blast sounds better lmao), cock warming-ish, tiny hints of a size kink, grinding, soft fuck, soft spanking, sappy endings

❀ this is part of the bangtan pastries valentine collab hosted by the lovely @suhdays, who also made my lovely banner 💖 make sure to check out the other fics as well, they’re amazing as are the other authors and please excuse any incoherent inconsistencies or misspelling as this fic was written over a many days and long hours ❀

main ml • AO3

His nose is cold, a weird thing to think about when a werewolf's body temperature literally runs higher than every other species. There’s a chill racing up his spine as he shivers reaching a lazy arm across the bed in search of your warmth only to come up empty. Jungkook finally cracks an eye open, pushing himself into a sitting position to see if you really are missing or you’ve only scooted to the very edge of the bed to escape his scalding body temperature. Though to his displeasure you are in fact missing, he’s running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath before scrunching his feature. His nose is still cold, so he can't smell much, can only feel the slight sting of the frigid air as he breathes it in.

He hates the winter, all he can ever smell is the damp ground and the cold of the air. Funnily enough most werewolves loved winter since it gave them a break from their heightened senses, not Jungkook though, he couldn't stand not being able to smell you on his bed, in your house, on him. Your shared bedroom is extra chilly this morning raising goosebumps along his exposed skin, he’s tired, not having gotten enough sleep from the long night of studying he’d done the night before.

You’re a naturally early riser so he knows why you’re up, Jungkook however isn't exactly a morning person, never has been, especially on the weekend when neither of you have anywhere to be. He’s groggy as he pads down the hallway, a yawn stretching his mouth wide, another shiver wracking his body the closer he gets to the back of the house, it’s always been chillier there, it’s downright brutal in the winter time.

He isn't surprised when he finally comes to stand in the doorframe of the sunroom watching your figure drop what he’s pretty sure is mugwort in the bubbling cauldron. There’s this sense of domesticity watching you work, a luxury he couldn't afford as the two of you grew up. He can almost vividly remember the ugly way you’d scowl at him when he’d plop down in front of you brandishing scraped up hands or knees. A soft almost unkind reminder that he should be more careful and that next time he came in you wouldn't treat his wounds. He remembers thinking you didn't like him, maybe even hated him, so after a while (more like into his teenage years) he just stopped showing up. So you would imagine his surprise when you’d finally cornered him after his abrupt disappearance. His lips tug upward at the memory of you clumsily confessing your feelings to him before running off, never giving him a chance to properly convey his own feelings.

It’s weird for Jungkook to think that he’d almost let you slip through his fingers, his dumb teenage werewolf hormones had told him to just let you be. That you weren’t even one of his kind, so you wouldn't be worth it. He’d been so close to letting you get away, so close to letting you leave the pack when he’d taken his precious time working through his natural instincts (at least the ones he had then). How he’d almost brushed off your confession because there was no way cold, stoic you liked him. Impossible he’d thought, and then a week after he’d overheard your parents asking permission for you to attend a school away from pack lands. Away from the pack, away from your family, and away from him. The very thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly, making him nauseous as he thought of everyday life without you.

It was then that he knew he couldn’t let that happen, something about you leaving didn't sit well in his being. He couldn’t describe it then, after all a sixteen year old only understood the bare minimum of love and life and he knew even less than that. Somewhere in his mind rushing to your house at that moment had made sense, more sense than anything had in the short amount of time he’d had to process the information. He probably should’ve knocked before rushing into your house, maybe also knocked instead of flinging your room door open the way he had. The grin he wears grows wider as he recalls what he’d seen all those years ago. The rest is history, at least the embarrassing parts that he refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t regret the way your relationship had started, especially not after almost seven years of dating. Hell, he considers himself lucky that you even stuck around this long because truth be told Jungkook could be a handful, like now for example.

“Is that my sweater?” he asks, watching amusedly as you jump nearly spilling an entire vial of pixie dust. Your hand has gone to your chest to calm your racing heart as it beats harshly against your ribs, scowling as you think of how you hated that he was so light on his feet.

“I couldn't find an apron, and it’s cold.” you say rubbing at your nose with sweater pawed hands before sprinkling some of the pixie dust into the cauldron.

“Y’know I don't like when you brew in my clothes, the smell sticks for too long.” he sniffs, still only feeling the cold sting of the air.

“I know.” you mutter not once glancing in his direction, only reaching out to take a jar of snake venom from the array of ingredients lining the counter space beside you.

“What are you making anyways and on a Saturday?”

“Vitality potion, for extra credit.” he hums to himself content with just watching you finish up your work which really doesn't take long. You add a few drops of mint sighing contentedly while you put out the fire with a simple incantation. Jungkook watches as you rub at your eyes and easily close the distance between you, your arms wrap around his waist as you nuzzle into his chest relishing in his warmth. A muffled ‘m’tired’ slipping past your lips and tickling his chest where they press to his skin. He hums his reply, hands slipping down your sides pulling soft sighs from you as he slips them under the hem of your hoodie to press chilled hands to your warm hips.

You squeal, trying in vain to wriggle away from him as he muffles his laugh in your neck. He’s quick to pull your body close, before lifting you over his shoulder, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you steady. Your giggles are almost manic as you laugh all the way to the bedroom where he proceeds to take full advantage of this early Saturday morning.

Monday morning comes way too soon, and you’re once again seated at a table of your favorite on campus cafe. Though much like always Jungkook is being clingy, scenting your neck while you kill some time before your first class. The frappe you ordered sits untouched, the slush goodness melting into a mess of almost coffee flavored water. It’s a waste of money if you don't drink it now, although you’re also sure Jungkook will polish it off should you leave it be.

“Please stop making people uncomfortable.” you sigh, pressing a palm to his face to push him away before he can bury it back in your neck.

“I’m not making people uncomfortable.” he says with a confused furrow of his brow as he casts a glance around the cafe to catch these so called uncomfortable people. He doesn't see anyone other than a couple of baristas who refuse to make eye contact even with the way his gaze is burning holes into the side of their heads. You don't look the slightest bit amused as you narrow your eyes at him, waiting a beat then two only to realize he really doesn't know. Your heart skips a beat, ‘stupid heart’ you think as it continues to do so the longer he remains oblivious. It’s moments like this that make you think that being with Jungkook is like having a big dumb dog, except you absolutely adore the shit out of him, amongst other things.

He quirks his head the slightest as your brows pinch further together the longer you stare at him, further reminding you of his canine counterpart. There’s this flutter in your tummy, the butterflies that have long since taken residence awaken fluttering about and fanning a flame that is slowly growing, traveling to your face and warming your cheeks. Stupid heart, stupid butterlies, stupid Jungkook and his big stupid beautiful eyes, you curse mentally finally ripping your gaze away from his. It’s all a little too much, so your best course of action is going to class early, you decide standing and making to leave only for his grip on your hand to tighten, one that you had forgotten about.

“Gimme a kiss.” he says around a smirk, it heats your cheeks further as you work to calm the rapid beat of your stupid heart as it bangs against your ribs. You’re almost expecting for your chest to burst open or your heart to spontaneously combust. Luckily neither of those happen as Jungkook leans in close pressing a soft peck to your lips before moving to deepen it. He’s gentle in coaxing your lips apart, much better than your first kiss, taking his time tasting you as he always does...at first. He’s squeezing one of your tight clad thighs in his big hands, a sigh almost slipping past your lips as the warmth of his palm sinks through the material. You pull away abruptly, eyelids fluttering before blinking a few times to clear the sudden haze that clouds your vision. Next to you Jungkook is whining trying his hardest to pull you back in for another kiss, that sly dog.

“I’ll see you later.” you say pressing one last barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth, almost tripping over the threshold on your way out. His gaze follows your figure until you turn the corner disappearing from his sight. He sighs heavily, it’s laced with undertones of fatigue as he reaches for your unfinished frappe.

“You guys are gross.” Yoongi breathes, taking a seat opposite Jungkook. Jimin takes your seat, as Taehyung and Hoseok follow. Hoseok takes the empty seat beside Yoongi while Taehyung pulls up a chair from a neighboring table.

“You’re just jealous my girlfriend is hotter than yours.”

“Sure kid, you go ahead and believe that.” he almost sneers.

“Why are you here so early?” Jimin asks steering the conversation away from girlfriends for now. He’s yawning suddenly, reminded of how little sleep he’s gotten today, school was the worst.

“I came with ____, can’t have her coming all alone y’know.”

“Isn't your first class at the same time as her last?” Yoongi chimes in before asking Taehyung to get him an Americano as the younger man walks over to the counter.

“Yeah, and what?” he sniffs a little defensively.

“It was just a question.” Yoongi deadpans.

“Don’t you and your satan spawn of a twin share all your classes with ____?”

“No, we have classes together Tuesdays through thursdays.” he supplies easily, leaning back in the chair.

“Why not all week?” Hoseok asks in a tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Monday and Fridays are the hardest days to get out of bed, duh.” he says almost matter of factly and they have to agree with Yoongi on this one. Monday is truly the worst day of the week, though it's now that Jungkook notices the absence of the previously mentioned satan’s spawn. He almost bristles, thinking that Yoonji might be out there somewhere harassing his sweet little girlfriend.

You scream, startled by the sudden weight that presses itself to you, a giggle like purr filling your ears before you relax. Yoonji’s hair brushes your cheeks softly, her arms wrapping around your frame and you squeak at the feel of her hand cupping your chest through the hoodie you wear. It’s a usual occurrence, though no less embarrassing as she continues to snuggle closer to you.

“Did your boobs get bigger?” she asks nose nudging against the soft pudge of your cheek, you know she’s scenting you, her way of messing with Jungkook later when she can’t physically be there.

“No, please stop.” you sigh, feeling a gentle squeeze followed by a soft breathy moan, heat erupting across your cheeks in embarrassment. She snickers giving your ample chest one last squeeze before finally moving away. She falls in step with you, walking along the path, snow crunching underfoot before moving to speak again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly do you like about Jungkook? I mean sure he’s great, not really, and all but really what is it? Is it his dick game because other than you I don't really think he’s ever been with anyone else.” She asks stuffing her hands in her coat pockets to stave off the slight chill that has zapped all the warmth from her fingers. There’s a brief pause in her thoughts as she wonders if Jungkook uses your impressive rack as the natural hand warmers they are, the lucky bastard she thinks with a scowl.

“I don't know, all of him.”

“That’s too vague an answer, like if I were to ask him what do you think he’d say he likes about you?”

“That I’m just so cute.” you answer almost immediately hands cupping your cheeks as if to further prove that you are in fact cute. The scrunch to her nose is adorable, squishing her already delicate features, as you smile softly at her and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Not that cute, but to each their own I guess. I’ll see you later yeah?” she asks, turning on her heel to walk in the direction you had just come from.

“I’ll be there.” You call after her watching as she raises a single hand to show you she’d heard you.

Yoonji is sliding onto Hoseok’s lap with all the grace of the satan spawn she is, easily wrapping a single arm around his neck and taking a sip from your abandoned frappe. She hums around the straw gaze trained on Jungkook’s bewildered expression, it brings her immense pleasure to see him so distressed.

“Why are you here and what do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, snatching the drink back.

“It was only a sip you’re overacting, besides it’s mostly water now anyways.” She scoffs feeling Hoseok wrap his arms tighter around her waist pulling her closer to him.

“You don’t understand, now my poor ____ has indirectly kissed you. She’s been tainted by your nasty germs, Hobi do something!” Jungkook whines cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of red, it’s almost endearing how childlike that is of him.

“I don’t think I can do anything, since it’s already happened.” He replies easily long since used to antics and strange rivalry between his girlfriend and Jungkook. Yoonji licks her lips mischievously snickering before shooting a somewhat sultry gaze at Jungkook.

“Hmm, can I ask you something Junglebook?” she says.

“No, in fact I would very much enjoy it if you never spoke again. Yoongi how did the two of you share a womb?”

“I don't know, it just happened, what were you saying Yoonji?”

“It’s not my fault you prefer the fossil over there over me. I’m literally amazing, anyways what do you like about ____?” she asks, ignoring Yoongi’s muttering and the somewhat awkward silence that has settled over the table. Jungkook to his credit doesn't blow this out of proportion as he usually does, so she watches as he sits quietly hands wrapped around the cup. This time there’s a slow flush of color flooding his cheeks, it’s kind of cute in a weird ugly kind of way. It’s not like she found Jungkook particularly attractive, but she guesses she could, maybe if the boy next door was her type.

“I don’t know, she’s just really cute, she looks tiny compared to me, and I don't know, all of her?” the flush has spread to his neck and ears, a look she has to say she’s never witnessed before. Again cute in a gag her romcom kind of way, she would be sick if you hadn't already prepared her for his answer. She still fakes a gag either way destroying the warm bubble he’d created with all his mushy sappy feelings.

“You’re so lame, no wonder you didn't have friends in high school.” she laughs before planting a kiss to Hoseok’s cheek.

“You guys were my friends in high school.” he says, brows pinched together an ugly glare directed at Yoonji who has begun ignoring everyone, so that she can whisper to Hoseok.

“Ignoring Satan and the literal walking ball of sun, what are you doing for Valentine’s day?” Yoongi asks, sounding mildly irritated at the topic he himself has brought up.

“That’s like two weeks away, what does it have to do with us singles?” Jimin laughs resting his chin in an open palm.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have plans.”

“Valentine’s day is for girls, and again I’m single what would that do?”

“What are you doing for Valentines day Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, turning his gaze to Jungkook who has sat silently from the start. The expression he wears is of confusion, brows pinched as if he were sitting in on a pack meeting full of boomers that didn't understand the world of today.

“Jungkook?” Jimin says catching Jungkook’s attention.

“What is that?” he asks timidly, again silence settles over the group all of them wearing a different expression. It’s broken by Yoonji who literally looks like the cat who ate the canary, it’s truly disgusting and he wishes he never has to see it again.

“Are you serious, you don't know what Valentine’s day is.” she snickers, a little too happily for Jungkook who remains just as confused as he had been before.

"Your girlfriend is human." Jimin says just as unhelpful.

"She's a witch, not a human." he reminds them.

“Witch still lands on the human side of the spectrum.” The conversation is going in circles, he thinks feeling irritation creep into him at the way they all continue to discuss your race.

“Can we please keep this conversation moving? What is Valentines day?” he asks, letting just a tiny bit of irritation seep into his tone.

“It’s a human holiday, made for couples to celebrate love.” Taehyung says, adding to the conversation for the first time this morning and suddenly reminding everyone of his presence. He shrugs off their stare, instead gathering his things and leaving them just as easily as he had joined the conversation.

“Why is a human holiday so important all of a sudden? It isn’t anything like the summer solstice right?” Yoonji looks more and more amused the longer they stay on the topic, lips curling upward into a smile that is both haunting and sort of breathtaking in a sinister steal your soul kind of way. He shivers, deciding then that he’ll pray to the moon goddess for Hoseok’s sanity.

“God you really are out of the loop, poor doggy.” Yoonji laughs sliding into the vacant chair but making sure it’s pressed as close to Hoseok as possible.

“Hoseok, please.” Jungkook breathes, maybe it’s the fatigue that is allowing Yoonji to annoy him quicker than usual or maybe she’s just testing his patience more than usual. Either way he’s distracted by Jimin clearing his throat, always playing the peacekeeper.

“You’re right, it isn't like the summer solstice but for some reason the girls like it. I think humans traditionally give chocolate, small gifts, or do other romantic couple things. This is usually the day most people confess feelings to someone, it’s actually really popular nowadays. I think even my parents celebrate valentine's day.” Jimin says the last bit more to himself than to the others.

“Wait, so do you guys give girls chocolate?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“No, I’ve had people give me friendship chocolate before.” Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around the whole chocolate thing at least not right now. Still he wonders if you would like to receive a gift from him. He listens intently as Yoongi and Hoseok talk about a course they’re taking seemingly having forgotten the prior conversation with the departure of Yoonji and Jimin who share an astronomy class.

He’s not forgotten about the conversation later that week while he sits on Jin's couch killing time before he goes home after all you texted him earlier saying that you’d be studying in the library and not to wait up. Jin had been filling him in on the show that’s been playing for the last two hours, one based on eight individuals who all share a birthday and somehow a weird mental connection. Truth be told Jungkook has been staring listlessly at the screen the colors long since blurred as his eyes have lost focus, hazy blobs moving this way and that. The sound has been drowned out almost as if the volume has been turned down while he thinks.

“- Riley to me is the least useful of the cluster, don’t you think?” Jin asks, Jungkook hums along not really hearing what his friend has said.

“Whispers isn’t really a bad guy, and neither is Rajan’s dad, right?” he says this time watching intently as Jungkook hums again leaning further into the couch.

“Jungkook, seriously you aren’t even watching it.”

“I am, Sun is in prison and Joongki must die.” he mutters, blinking a few times before turning his gaze to meet Jin’s.

“What’s wrong, if you’re tired you should go home and get some sleep.” Jin huffs leaning back into the recliner.

“Not tired, just thinking.” he says unconvincingly around a yawn that stretches his mouth a little too wide, suddenly reminding Jin of a lion. They sit in the relative silence for a brief moment, the sounds of another fight scene playing in the background drags Jin’s gaze back to the TV.

“What are you doing for valentines day?” he finally asks, he feels his lips twitch at the way Jin is quick to pause the show.

“Why? Are you going to tell me how much you love me?”

“No, it’s just my first time hearing about it.” he mumbles pouting slightly. Jin wonders how this boy was going to lead a pack when he’s such a child, then again he doesn’t understand werewolf hierarchy all too well.

“Are you planning to celebrate it?” Jungkook stills, once again wondering if you would be happy to receive chocolate as the others had mentioned.

“I don't know maybe, do you think ____ would like it?” Jin can hear the uncertainty in Jungkook’s voice, and for some odd reason he wants to laugh. He shouldn't because it’s rare for Jungkook to really share his feelings with someone that isn't you. Instead he asks himself the same question, would you be happy if Jungkook gave you a gift. It’s hard to imagine with you being reserved and all, but he thinks that you might, if it was behind closed doors in the safety of your own home.

“Yeah, I think she would.” And his answer is worth it he thinks as he watches the way Jungkook’s eyes twinkle with determination at the prospect of surprising you. When Jungkook goes home that night he spends a little too much time doing what he calls ‘research’ completely ignoring the course work that sits beside his laptop on his desk.

The weekend has come again and Jungkook is more than tired between school, and trying to find the best kind of gift he’s stumped and a little miserable. It had snowed again, covering the roads that had already been cleared, what’s more is that you have virtually moved into the library the last week. He’s seen less of you in the past week than he has his whole life, which just makes him more irritable as he drags himself out of bed, hoping, no, praying that you are home today. It’s Saturday after all, and you should be here in bed cuddling him, but you aren’t so he thinks you might be in the sunroom again brewing more potions. He finds it empty, not a single sign that you had been there at all by now he’s beginning to worry.

Slowly he pads back down the hall stopping briefly when he catches a soft almost muted sigh. He recognizes it almost instantly, his gaze falling to the couch as he rounds it to find you curled up underneath a thin lap blanket. You look so comfortable he doesn’t have the heart to move you, so instead he opts for something a little different. Jungkook is quick to leave returning with a heavier blanket and a pillow before he’s slipping his body into the tiny crevice you’ve left between your body and the back of the couch. He’s almost sighing at the way you unconsciously snuggle closer to his warm, he pulls you in closer, tucking your body as close to him as possible but also keeping you both comfortable in the limited space. His eyelids begin to flutter, the past weeks exhausting catching up with him now that he’s found ultimate comfort with you.

When Jungkook wakes again he’s on his back, his pinky finger just barely skimming the sliver of skin exposed by the way your shirt has ridden up. You’ve yet to awaken, brows furrowed in your sleep, your face relaxes when he nuzzles the crown of your head. He cherishes these quiet moments, not that he didn't all the others but these were his favorite. Enjoyed the naturalness of it all, like this you weren’t hiding from others, you weren’t reserved, you were just yourself and he liked that. He briefly wonders what time it might be, when he feels you begin to stur, it always starts off slow. You sigh softly a single puff of air leaving your nose, then you nuzzle into what would usually be your pillow but today it’s Jungkook’s chest, next comes the twitch of your fingers followed by the stretch of your arm, hand seeking the warmth that is usually Jungkook beside you. Instead your hands tangle in the softness of the blanket pulling it closer softly knocking him on the chin as you snuggle into the comfort.

“____, baby it’s time to get up.” he murmurs voice husky from disuse.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Gotta make us some breakfast.” he sighs feeling you shift further before you sit up, your eyes are half lidded, hair mused. The long sleeve your wear is slipping off one of your shoulders, you’re blinking sluggishly, gaze still unfocused but at least you're awake now. His hands find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them slightly so that your gaze meets his.

“You awake yet baby? Need some help?” he asks watching the way you frown down at him before shaking your head, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. His heart squeezes in his chest, a slow heat swirling low in his belly the longer you straddle him. You shift your weight as you stretch, back arched in a way that pulls his gaze to your chest, through the thin material he can make out the stiff peaks of your nipples. There’s a twitch of his fingers as he restrains himself from feeling the soft weight of them in his palms, but there are other things troubling him at the moment. Mostly the way he can feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of panties as you settle more of your weight on his crotch.

“Breakfast?” you ask, the single word is enough to drag his thoughts back to something fluffy, something softer, less deprived. He squeezes at your thighs again sitting up to press a kiss to your cheek before sliding you off his lap and intertwining your fingers as you follow him to the bathroom.

Jungkook is humming as he sways at the stove chuckling as you squeeze your arms tighter around his waist when he stops swaying. It’s odd for you to be this openly affectionate, even here in the safety of your home mostly because he likes to take advantage of the situations persuading you to do things he would rather keep to himself. Still he can’t say he isn't enjoying himself, at least he was until he hears the door fly open and the telltale muttering of one Min insufferable Yoonji. Your grip tightens further as you press yourself closer almost as if you’re trying to hide from her, but that doesn't make sense, as much as he hates to admit it you two are super close.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and just her tone makes him pause.

“Making breakfast.” he replies before he hears a scoff.

“I wasn't talking to you Junglebook, ____ what are you doing, you were supposed to meet me three hours ago.” she sighs as you whine pathetically against Jungkook’s back rubbing your face into the soft material of his shirt.

“I can’t hear you.”

“M’tired, don't wanna go.” you cry and Jungkook feels heat rush to his cheeks at the tone you use, it reminds him of the way you sound when he’s balls deep in you. He really shouldn't be thinking of that, especially not with that thing you call your best friend around.

“This was your decision, I’m just there for moral support. Now let's go before I catch whatever disease Jungkook carries.” she sniffs, narrowing her eyes when you don’t budge.

“Can’t you at least let her eat breakfast before you drag her away?” Jungkook asks, moving the grilled cheese to the cooling rack glaring at Yoonji over his shoulder. She sighs heavily but silently agrees as she takes a seat at the kitchen island. He can hear the clicks of her keyboard as she typed something into her phone followed by the swoosh of her message being sent. Briefly, and just briefly he wondered who the hell would want to talk to her so damn early. Though he can’t really call afternoon early now can he.

You look sleepy when you’re finally ready to leave after having eaten your weight in bread, cheese, and butter, a look he absolutely adores. Yoonji is standing in the open door typing on her phone again, ignoring the flowery atmosphere that blankets the two of you like some cliche shoujo manga. The way you smile up at him makes his heart flutter, a pleasant wave of warm slowly makes its way through his body as you hug him and he’s planting a kiss to the crown of your head not so subtly scent marking you. It’s only when Yoonji makes an exasperated sound do you two pull away.

“See you later, be safe.” he says smiling in a way that makes your tummy flutter.

“I will.” you almost sigh before Yoonji glares at him once more and pulls you along. With you gone, he has nothing else to do than to look through the possible gifts options he’d bookmarked. There’s so many things to chose from, gourmet chocolates, edible arrangements, teddy bears, flowers, jewelry, spa days, sex? It’s all so much, he’s saved so many links it’s a folder that he’s pinned to his bookmarks bar on his search engine. Maybe he should ask for help, Yoonji wouldn’t help him even if he asked nicely while on his knees, but perhaps Yoongi and Seokjin would. He has to take that chance, and pray to the moon goddess that they’ll offer their insight.

“I can’t help you.” Yoongi says after Jungkook has gathered the most reliable of his friends.

“Why not?”

“Prior engagements, and this if your girlfriend. You should know what she’d like, let me know what you go with.” he says, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and leaving the oldest and the youngest together.

“Jin please tell me you’ll be more helpful than Yoongi.” he whines, and Seokjin takes pity on him because as much as he hates to say it, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I can try but it really depends on what you think ____ would like the best.” Jungkook beams at Jin’s willingness to help even if he doesn’t promise anything. He’s quick to pull open his laptop, opening one too many links that have both their heads spinning. Jungkook’s because he’s just so excited to surprise you and Jin is mostly amazed at Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. He switches through tabs, scanning over the things Jungkook has chosen, truth be told he’s not sure if any material items would be any good. He also doesn't like the ridiculous price listed beside the edible arrangements and gourmet chocolates, absolutely gawks at the price next to the jewelry. It’s not like Seokjin doesn’t know what kind of family Jungkook comes from, sure werewolves were a dime a dozen but not Jungkook, he was from one of the founding packs and in being so he was more than well off and that came from a literal prince of the sea such as himself. Still he wonders what kind of craftsmanship could be worth that much, or did Jungkook not care about price? He wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity that is the younger and his lack of care for things such as this, but he supposes that was where he came in.

“What did you have in mind?” Jin asks hesitantly, almost dreading the conversation.

“I don’t know a little of everything.” Jungkook answers sheepishly.

“A bit of everything.” Jin repeats already appalled at the idea. “Maybe you should stick to one, how about flowers?”

“____, do you think she’ll like them?”

“I don't know, i’m sure she’ll be able to use them in her potions.”

“Nevermind, not flowers. Then maybe jewelry?”

“Does ____ wear jewelry?”

“Not really, she doesn’t like being too flashy.” he mumbles.

“What about chocolate?” Jin finally asks, skipping over all the other options for fear of prolonging this dreadful conversation.

“That’s perfect, I should order it right now.” he beams, reaching for the laptop in Seokjin’s grapes but coming up empty when Jin scoots away from him.

“Or, and this is just a thought, but why don’t you make it yourself?” it’s posed as a question, though to Jungkook it sounds more like a statement, a suggestion if you will. One that he doesn’t think sounds too bad after all how hard can making chocolate be? He smiles at Jin, in a way that lets Jin know that it’s finally over. But boy was he in for a trip.

Jungkook had dragged Jin to the closest supermarket, throwing every bar of chocolate into the cart that he could find, even including other ingredients. After the supermarket they’d gone to a craft store for silicone molds, he’d even stopped at a small variety store for what he called cuter molds, because the ones from the craft store were too plain. Truth be told Jin wasn’t too sure what Jungkook would do with all that he had purchased but he knew he’d find some adequate guinea pigs for Jungkook. The younger thanks him with a meal followed by a brief goodbye before heading home to start the process of chocolate making.

As it turns out chocolate making isn’t too hard, but there’s something unsatisfying about melting premade chocolate and filling molds. It’s okay Jungkook supposes as he demolds yet another batch of half strawberry half milk chocolate rilakkuma molds. There are a few more trays of chocolates, some have pocky others have nuts but he’s still dissatisfied paying no mind to them as he dumps the finished chocolates into a tupperware instead of the box he’s intended to pack them in. This was supposed to be a test run, a successful one if they asked him but one that left him thinking that it wouldn't be enough. He heaves a heavy sigh as he finishes pulling the chocolate from the molds, moving to seal the tupperware that held them.

He’s decided then as he’s stacking the containers in a canvas bag that he’s going to Jin’s again he needs more help, but before that he needs to clean up so that you won't come home to this mess. He also doesn't want to risk you finding out what he’s planned as a surprise, he’s so focused on the task at hand he doesn't hear the door. Much less the way you and Yoonji speak animatedly as you make your way further into the house.

“Jungkook what’s this?” you ask giggling the slightest as he flinches at the gentle hand you place on his shoulder. His shock is quickly replaced by something gentle, something that has your brow furrowing. Maybe it’s the way he widens his eyes as he turns his body to face you properly, he used to do this a lot when he was trying to hide something from you back when you were kids. This faux innocent look got him in more trouble than you can remember and you don't like it, especially now.

“Hey baby, I didn't know you’d be home so soon.” he says wrapping you up in a hug. You squirm in his hold trying in vain to get him to loosen his hold on you, which makes you all the more suspicious of what he might be hiding.

“Jungkook, please.” you murmur a little confused as he continues to evade your question from earlier.

“I’m going to Jin’s for a bit. I'll be back with some take out is that okay?” he says instead grabbing the bag and heading for the door. You stare after he’s gone, a little more than confused at what has just transpired.

“Is he going to bring enough for three?” Yoonji asks from her place on the couch the tv playing a reality show you don’t particularly enjoy.

“Why is Hermione always out of breath? It’s like she’s always on the brink of hyperventilating in every scene.” Yoongi asks as he sits beside Jin, a half confused half annoyed expression sitting pretty on his face. To his credit at least he isn't hyper analyzing other aspects of the film, ones that he knows are a lot more pressing than Hermione’s inability to catch her breath. So you would imagine how relieved he is to get the door after a series of knocks, even more relieved to see Jungkook if only for a moment. Jungkook to his credit doesn't look any less different than he did earlier in the day, in fact he looks normal? Maybe he should be worried that Jungkook looks significantly less excited than he was mere hours ago. Jungkook thrusts the bag at Jin before throwing his weight down on the couch beside a very amused Yoongi.

“What is this?” Jin asks, a little too hesitant before recognizing his ‘como se llama’ eco friendly bag.

“Chocolate.” he answers quickly but a little too quietly while Yoongi perks up at the prospect of free candy.

“I thought you said you didn't have my bag,” Jin says pulling out one too many containers “are these my tupperware?” Jungkook remains silent, gaze settled on the tv as Yoongi pulls open one of the tupperware.

“What’s with all the chocolate, kinda cutesy don’t you think?” Yoongi comments offhandedly popping a few pieces into his mouth with a hum.

“They were for ____.” Yoongi pauses mid chew, turning his attention to the younger.

“Why would you give us candy meant for your girlfriend?” he asks around a mouthful of strawberry chocolate hearts.

“It was practice, I didn’t wanna give her homemade chocolates after all.” he sighs, turning his gaze to Jin who still stands beside Yoongi who continues to eat the chocolate.

“Do you have a backup plan?” Jin’s gaze falls to Yoongi who posed the question, he’s glad he wasn't the one who asked. He watches in a weird mix of concern and amusement as Jungkook’s eyes glaze over before he whines.

“No,” he all but sobs looking up at Jin with a tremble to his lip “what if ____ hates me because i didn't give her anything.” It’s so hard to hold in his laughter, Jungkook was being a little dramatic.

“There are other things you can make besides chocolate y’know.” Yoongi sighs, setting the bowl on the coffee table and finally pausing the movie after all he really likes the scene where Harry realizes the patronus he saw was his own.

“Why not bake her something, there are plenty of pastries that use chocolate.” he offers, ignoring the way both Jungkook and Jin gawk at him.

“Is hell freezing over, are you actually offering to help?” Jin gasps a little too dramatically, it makes Yoongi scowl.

“No, you ugly I won't be helping but I might know someone who can.” beside him Jungkook makes a choking noise, one that has both of them casting their gaze in his direction.

“Thank you so much Yoongi, I’ll give you my first born.”

“Keep it, I’ll have enough of my own.” he says, scrunching his nose at the thought of Jungkook’s kids. Jin on the other hand is grumbling at the level of disrespect from a solid 8 when he was in fact a 10, a 10!

“Go home, I’ll text you the information later.” he sighs trying to pacify Jin who continues to list all that makes him a 10 and Yoongi an 8. He does as he’s told, trying his best to slip out so as not to be lumped in with Yoongi even though he was feeling grateful for his hyung. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he’s scowling down at the sole message that lights up his screen.

my moon ♡

➣ don’t forget the takeout, plus extra Yoonji is here :)

He supposes he can deal with Satan just this once, he’s got a good feeling about this.

Jungkook is feeling overwhelmed to say the least, it’s Wednesday and he’s suddenly swamped with course work. To add insult to injury he hasn’t heard a single word from Yoongi who has also somehow gone missing for the last three days following their conversation over the weekend. He’s so tired he’s thinking of skipping his only class for tomorrow, what’s worse is that valentine's day is a week and a half away now and he’s still very much at square one. Luckily he’s at home so he’s free to let out a tear or two of pure frustration, he curses Yoongi for lying to him. What's worse was that he played nice with the she-demon too! Maybe he’s overreacting, there are worse things than not having giving you a gift for some stupid human holiday. Still though, he wanted to make this one memorable, even if it ended up being the only one you celebrated together. Hell you aren’t even here, he’s sure you’re doing it on purpose now.

How much extra credit could one person need, especially when you were one of the top students in your field. If push came to shove he would drag you back if he had too, but right now he just wants to curl up and pretend he didn't care about this stupid holiday. It would seem though that the universe won’t let him throw a pity party because as soon as his eyes fall shut there’s a knock at the door. He ignores it at first hoping it’s just one of his friends and they’ll leave if he doesn’t make a sound. He shouldn't have bet on it, when the knocks continue. It’s funny how urgent they sound, but really he just wants to be left alone. Still he groans, dragging himself off the couch and shuffling to the door with a scowl. The door swings open as he readies to spit nasty words at whoever has interrupted him only to catch a faint whiff of apples. His gaze falls to someone just a head shorter than him, a woman, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” he asks, feeling the chill of the air nip at his nose as he takes a deep breath, catching the scent of a prey shifter species.

“I um, well, are you um, are you Jungkook?” she asks, her gaze easily meeting anything else except his own as he stares. He’s sizing her up, not in a scummy way of course, how could he when he had you, but he doesn't recognize her at all. Nor does her scent smell familiar so he really can't place how he would know her.

“Yes, and you are?” he finally says watching as her nerves seem to settle the slightest, though her heart is still beating a little too loudly for his liking.

“I’m Bunny, Yoongi said you would be expecting me?” she offers up easily though it’s almost a whisper. His features twist into something of confusion, Yoongi said what now? That damned cat had gone MIA, surely this was a prank or something.

“How do you know Yoongi?” He asks instead, watching a shade of rose color the light olive of her cheeks.

“We’re dating.” she mumbles bashfully clenching her hands at her side. Suddenly he recalls pestering Yoongi into letting them meet his girlfriend, and the former almost immediately putting his foot down in a firm no. So really is he at fault he didn't recognize Yoongi’s girlfriend, someone he has never met, until today that is.

“Oh, you’re that Bunny!” he almost howls watching as she flinches at the sheer volume of it. It’s cute really, he takes back what he said about her not being as hot as you, though you will always be number one in his book.

“Yeah, did Yoongi not tell you that I would be here today?”

“I don't think so.” he answers easily, watching the way she scowls more to herself than him, as she pulls her phone out and presses it to her ear.

“You didn't tell him I would be here?” Bunny says after a brief moment. He can slightly hear what he assumes is Yoongi’s voice though it's more muffled than anything.

“But Yoonie you said you would tell him. No, I was on time. Are you sure you texted him? Yoongi! Okay, you owe me big time. Promise? Okay, love you.” she finishes hanging up with a sigh, the rose on her cheeks is darker bordering more on red now.

“Sorry about that, Yoongi was supposed to send you my schedule. He said you needed help with baking a pastry?” she says with a smile sweetly at him.

“Wait, you're the someone he knows?” she tilts her head slightly brows furrowed at his words.

“I guess I am, can I come in or is this a bad time?” He’s quick to step aside, showing her to the living room and offering her something to drink. It’s odd to be alone with another woman, one who is very much not single but still weird since he’s never done it before. It’s almost off putting, so much so he feels a growl building in his chest. He really shouldn't be so guarded, especially when she is harmless and seems to have no ill intentions. He’s placing a cup of tea before her taking the seat adjacent to her as she smiles warmly at him.

“So what did you have in mind?” she asks, not unkindly pulling a notepad from her bag and resting it in her lap while she waits for his answer.

“I’m not entirely sure, I just know it has to be something with chocolate.”

“That narrows it down a bit, do you want something more elegant or simplistic?”

“Simplistic, my girlfriend doesn’t like things that are too flashy.” he sighs thinking of you and the easy smile you give him when you're eating sweets. It eases his nerves the slightest, as Bunny takes note of this.

“This almost seems like a therapy session, what with you sitting here taking notes and all.” he says to break the gentle scritch scratch sound of her pen on paper. She pauses, a small hesitant smile on her lips as she moves to meet his gaze.

“Truth be told I’m a little nervous, you’re aura is a little intimidating.” she chuckles, grip tightening on her pen. He can see the reasoning behind her words after all werewolves very rarely interacted out of their species even amongst the supernatural.

“You shouldn’t be, I’m house trained after all.” he’s amused as a flurry of giggles flee her being, and she tries in vain to stifle them. After that she seems to relax, easy narrowing down their options to a devil's food cake or a chocolate tart. He likes the idea of a tart so it’s with a little glee that he makes his decision.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time and we can get started.” she says as she gathers her belongings while he shows her out. He’s excited to say the least a little more than he was when he was with the chocolate. So he guesses that in the end Yoongi was a least a little helpful.

True to her word Bunny is at his door at the same time as the previous day and Jungkook is more than happy to let her in, even taking some of the shopping bags out of her hand. He isn’t quite sure how he’ll do, but he is confident in his ability to try. After her departure and a stressful amount of time spent doing school work you had come home, sans Yoonji of course and you’d cuddled before he’d made the two of you a light dinner. Even after he’d spent too many hours reading over a single chocolate tart recipe, so much so he probably knew it by heart.

“I brought enough ingredients to make room for trial and error. You don’t have to be good at it from the get go, just follow the recipe okay?” she says in a voice that is oddly calming, he wonders briefly if she uses it on Yoongi. He nods his head in confirmation tying an apron around his waist as she does the same. She’s quick to take the reins, directing him in the tasks, and helping him when he asks for it. She says that they’ll be working in pieces, cutting the recipe in half for now as she whisks the ice water and egg yolk while Jungkook mixes the dry ingredients with butter.

“Making the dough is easy, the baking part is what usually takes a while to get right. I’m sure you’ll do fine, after all Yoongi has told me you’re a great cook.” she offers still whisking the egg and water.

“This is actually my first time baking in a while, I’ve found that I’m not that good at it.” he laughs.

“Really, your girlfriend must be very special. It’s actually kind of romantic.” He offers her a smile as they move to the next step. As it turns out Bunny is a very good teacher, helpful and patient when Jungkook thinks he might’ve messed up the dough. He learns that she’s studying to be a preschool teacher, and that one day she hopes to have a litter of her own. A soft rouge settles on her cheeks after she had divulged that tidbit of information before she asks him what his course of study is and his dreams for the future. The dough is now chilling in the refrigerator as they wait, so he supposes he can indulge her if only a bit.

“I’m doing pack management, an easy degree for someone like me.”

“Yoongi said you were loaded and I didn't believe him, but i guess it’s true.” she laughs.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it, I just want to be a good Alpha.”

“How about pups? Do you want any?”

“Of course, I want a whole pack full of my pups. I just have to marry my mate first.” She seems to perk up at this, a smile splitting her features.

“Marriage, have you asked her yet?” she asks a little too giddy for his liking but he feels a blush color his cheeks regardless.

“Not yet, I don’t think it’s the right time.” She nods her head in understanding, before pressing him for any dirt he has on Yoongi. All in all the first lesson goes smoothly, well except for the fact that he over cooks one of the tart shells and burns the other. She reminds him that there is still room for improvement, which somehow settles his nerves. He agrees with her after all there are still nine days left before the 14th.

He manages to get the tart shell perfect seven days before valentine’s day, which means he has a week to learn how to make the filing and how to put it all together. He’s feeling a little more stressed than usual with midterms coming up and your virtual lack of presence over the last few days. Really he’s starting to wonder just what is keeping you away from home all these days especially when you easily redirect his attention any time he asks. Maybe he’s overthinking it, it could really just be school work. He’s hissing, as the knife he’s using to chop the semi sweet chocolate slices through his middle finger. Luckily for him Bunny is quick to usher him away from the island and towards the sink. She wraps a bandage around his cut offering him a rubber glove to cover his bandaged hand before she wipes down the blood that had leaked onto the counter.

“Are you okay?” she asks a little too hesitantly for someone who he has become quick friends with.

“Yeah, I was just stuck in my thoughts.”

“We can always take a break, we have time.” She reminds him again, moving to clean up before leaving him alone and saying that he deserves a break from not only school but baking too. With Bunny gone he has some time to himself, time to think, to cool down and let his rational mind take control of the rampant nasty thoughts rearing their ugly little heads. To his credit he’s never once thought that you would cheat on him, it just wasn't in your personality to do so. He knew that you wouldn’t, but he really can't help letting his head tell him otherwise. Still he would know if you were, his wolf would feel it and he’s yet to cause a commotion. He decides then that he’s overthinking it, there’s a high chance that you’re just off doing god knows what with Yoonji. He doesn’t like that either but it’s still better than what the little voice in his head is saying.

Five days from Valentine's Day, he and Bunny are making the filing for the tart. He’s once again chopping semi-sweet chocolate listening to her as she tells him the next step. She’s made the tart shells beforehand so it would be easier on him so as to relieve some of the pressure for a perfect tart. He’d thanked her for the consideration when she’d arrived, which led to now as he combined heavy cream, milk heating to a low simmer before he mixed in the chopped semi sweet chocolate. He added sugar and watched as Bunny beat the eggs needed to finish the filing. The only thing left to do was stir the eggs into the chocolate mixture before pouring it into the tart shell and baking it again. With a timer they set out to clean up, before Bunny excuses herself telling him to try the tart with some friends and if he needed any further help she was only a phone call away. With her departure he’s quick to call up Jimin and Taehyung asking them rather cryptically if they wanted to come over. To his surprise they showed up rather quickly and they brought Namjoon along.

“Smells good in here.” Jimin comments.

“Really good, what are you making?” Taehyung adds.

“Are you baking?” Namjoon asks, catching the attention of the other two.

“I am, don’t tell ____. I need you to taste test it for me.” he says quickly, moving to run his fingers through his hair as his nerves kick in again.

“Cool.” Taehyung laughs, throwing his weight down on the couch before turning the TV on to show with a female assassin who’s in love with a woman from MI6. Jungkook gnaws on his lip as he watches from the kitchen, silence falls over the four of them as they watch the events unfold on screen. Jungkook is surprised at Taehyung's choice, mostly because he very rarely enjoys anything the former recommends. Since he prefers shows he can use as background noise that he doesn't have to pay much attention to. But this one is good, it’s interesting enough he barely hears the timer go off. None of the others move, gaze trained on the show as the blonde assassin plays a prank on her retainer. He likes the relationship between the retainer and the assassin, in fact he likes them a lot more than the lady from mi6. The tart is warm in his oven mitted hand, and smells amazing if he does say so himself. The shell is golden brown and the filing looks just as beautiful as he’d seen in the pictures. But he’s still not in the clear just yet, he still needs his taste testers to give him the green light.

The nervous flutter of butterflies has returned, swirling in the low of his belly as he leaves the tart to cool. He’s gone back to gnawing on his lip, thoughts running rampant that maybe it won’t be good enough, perhaps Bunny had been lying to him, maybe this would be a disaster. He tastes blood, the skin of his inner lip torn open by all the anxious gnawing, he swipes his tongue over the wound letting the coppery taste linger the longer he sits in his pool of self imposed anxiousness. The sounds of the TV are muffled, the images blurring as his gaze grows unfocused the longer he sits and waits, there’s something about the waiting that gets to him. His gaze slowly falls to the tart as it cools to the side, his brows furrowing as he looks at it.

“Oh are you cutting it?” Jimin asks, gaze focused on Jungkook and the knife he holds in hand. He can barely manage a nod, watching just as silently as his friends crowd him at the counter as he cuts them all a slice. He doesn't wait for them to take a bite, watching his fork easily cut through the chocolate and the shell hearing the soft clink of the metal on ceramic. He slowly brings the fork to his lips, and when he finally takes a bite he almost weeps.

He wakes up to you snuggled into him, an arm and leg slung over his body to keep him close. To his surprise you don’t have anything to do that day you offer up when he asks what your plans for the day are. He tries to hide the way he freezes at your revelation, after all you’d both been busy leading up to today. Finally the holiday is here and he was ready to prepare your gift while you’re out but this has thrown him for a loop. He counts himself lucky that it’s a weekend before he shoots a text to Jin asking to borrow his kitchen and that he would be more than happy to offer compensation for said favor. Jin easily agrees, reminding him that if he wanted to use it he had to be there before five since he had a date. The real pain is having to leave you when he finally has you to himself, he has to physically force himself to leave you alone with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back early.

Time seems to fly by, because when he finally reaches Jin’s after what he thought was a quick trip to the supermarket the sun hangs lower in the sky than when he’d left. Jin greets him at the door, as he comes through bags in hand, before he rushes to the kitchen. To his surprise Namjoon is here, and he offers a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking note of the way Namjoon is dressed up.

“Jin and I have dates in the human realm, thought it’d be easier to catch a ride with him.” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Aren’t you afraid of biting them?”

“You’d be surprised how many humans are into that.” Namjoon laughs, catching the look Jin gives him.

“Anyways, we have some time before we head out. I can help you if you need it.” Jin offers, tying an apron around his waist. Jungkook beams at the older, grateful for the help even though he’s determined to do all the work himself he’s more than happy his friends offer the help. The motions come easily, the dough and the filing are easy enough to do now after he has practiced. He makes a mental note to send Bunny a thank you gift and he supposes Yoongi too. Namjoon offers idle chit chat to fill the silence as he compliments the tart Jungkook had made all those days ago, saying how he’d been thinking about it often, he even goes far enough to say he would pay to have Jungkook make him one. The three of them laugh, Jin taking slight offence refusing to be upstaged by the youngest. Some odd hours later the tarts are done, one for you, one for Jin as thank you and one for Namjoon who looks more excited over the pastry than the date.

“Thanks for the tart, I hope she likes it.” Jin says as he locks his door leading Namjoon to his car. The drive home is a calming, classical music filling his ears as he lets his frenzied mind unwind. He thinks that he shouldn't be worried, he knows you and that is enough to finally calm the nervous flutter of butterflies in his tummy.

It would seem the butterflies have returned as Jungkook stands awkwardly on the porch, canvas bag in hand. His heart beats against his ribs too violently he’s afraid there’ll be bruising, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his whole life, perhaps it’s the holiday, truly he isn’t quite sure. He recalls Jimin saying that Valentine’s Day was made to celebrate love, while Yoongi said it was capitalism but he liked the thought of celebrating love better. Jungkook was a sap like that, and what better way to celebrate love than to give you something that he’d worked hard to make to show you, his one and only how much you meant to him? It’s this thought that finally frees the butterflies, setting them free from the confines of his belly taking his nervousness with them. Still he takes a deep breath before he finally enters his home.

“Hey you’re here!” you beam at him from down the hall. He takes in the dress you wear, something loose and flowery but still form fitting enough it hugs all his favorite parts. His gaze however remains on the apron you wear, something frilly and cutesy he’s never seen before.

“I am, are you cooking?” he asks, unable to help the way his tone fluctuates the slightest on the last word. There’s this bashful smile spreading your lips, tugging them upward ever so slightly it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I am, come and sit I’m almost done.” he does as he’s told, taking in the absolutely decadent scent of food. You fuss over him, taking the bag from him and setting it gently on the counter. He’s seated at the table chin resting on an open palm watching you work. It’s nice he thinks, especially seeing you dressed up for something as simple as dinner. Still it’s a welcomed change, a sudden furrow settling on his brow as he remembers you aren’t a particularly good cook and as such usually refrain from doing so.

“Hey, where’d you learn to cook?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but if you must know I had Yoonji and Yoonji teach me how to make you something special.” you say shooting him a smirk over your shoulder, it stirs something in his belly something that he struggles to tamp down.

“Oh yeah, special occasion?” he teases with an easy smile.

“Just wanna spoil my man.”

“Hmm, lucky him, wonder where he’s at.” you gasp dramatically. Turning off the stove while pointing tongs at him.

“I do too, he’s very charming, cute smile, big, y'know all the things a girl likes?” she sighs as his cheeks pinken at the unexpected praise.

“You think I’m big?”

“Of course baby.” you simper, plating the food before cutting up the steak. He smirks as you saunter over placing the plate before him leaning up as you lean down to plant a soft kiss to his lips. He hums as you nibble at the skin of his lips, one of his hands moving to squeeze your hip before you pull away. You take your seat opposite of his, careful to remove the apron and setting it aside.

“Go ahead, dig in.” you say watching with rapt attention as he takes a bit of the steak and some greens. His gaze never leaves yours even as he takes a bite, letting the taste wash over his tongue. You smile so wide eyes sparkling as he groans, the savory bite of meat melts on his tongue, and he finally looks away.

“Oh god, what did they teach you?” he asks around a mouthful, quick to dig in as you giggle softly.

“Enough, Yoonji said you should be grateful she taught me well and that this was her one good deed for the year.” you laugh chewing the bite of steak. He nods his head, it seems he’ll be indebted to her.

“So this was the prior engagement Yoongi had mentioned.” he says more to himself than you.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, this is really good. My compliments to the chef.” He loves the way you smile at his compliments. The rest of dinner goes by much the same, the two of you exchanging teasing words in between bites and soon enough you're doing the dishes. You’re drying them as Jungkook rinses, resting comfortably close to one another when you spot the canvas bag that Jungkook had come home with.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask turning to look up at him taking the last dish from him to dry it.

“What bag?”

“The one you came home with, what’s in it?” you ask again as you dry your hands. He turns to see the bag, and suddenly he’s reminded of the tart.

“Oh, you go sit on the couch, it's a surprise.” he says spinning you in the direction of the couch smacking your ass playfully when you don’t budge. You flinch slightly as the mild sting, moving towards to take a seat on the couch as he says. It’s not long before he’s settling beside you as you look down at his hands to see a single slice of chocolate tart topped with whipped cream. Your brows furrow, lips twitching as you fight a smile.

“I made this for you, happy valentine’s day.” he says bashfully, chuckling softly when your gaze shoots up to meet his.

“Jungkook, you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted too, besides it’s mostly self indulgent.” he whispers leaning into you to slot his lips against yours. He breathes in your sigh, tilting his head the slightest to deepen the kiss relishing in the taste of you before he pulls away.

“You taste like steak.” you giggle while he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, well then I’d say we taste the same.” He pecks you once, twice, three times sighing when he finally pulls away taking the fork and bringing up a small portion of the tart to your lips.

“Open up baby.” he breaths eyes half lidded watching intently as your lips part ever so slightly wrapping around the pastry teeth scraping over the fork to catch every last bit. The rich taste of the chocolate washes over your tongue. You moan slightly blinking sluggishly as you savor the taste of the creamy filling parting your lips for more. Jungkook's pants feel tight as he feeds you more, each bite you take is more painful as he finally lets his mind wander. Let’s himself think of all those nasty little things he’d been holding back for a little too long.

“Need you baby.” he breathes, moving to take your bottom lip between his teeth. You whimper softly pressing yourself closer to him as much as you can. He’s quick to set the plate aside pulling you onto his lap, pulling you down by the hips so you can feel him press against you right where you need him. He swallows you gasp as he gently thrusts his hips up into you, teeth nipping at your lip again because he just needs to feel you.

“Want you Kook, please.” you murmur against his lips as he slowly trails them to your jaw and neck. He hums hands squeezing your thighs with a muffled groan as he slides them under the hem of your skirt, finger slipping into the waistband of your panties and giving a swift tug.

“Want these off baby.” you nod eagerly shakily sliding off his lap to quickly pull them off as he rids himself of his pants and boxers. His hands find your thighs again, squeezing as he pulls you to straddle his lap once more. Your fingers knot themselves in his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his face up for another kiss, mewling as he slides his fingers through your folds spreading your slick and rubbing your clit in small tight circles. You buck your hips as heat swirls in your belly, sighing shakily as his fingers dip into your heat.

“So wet for me, how bad d’you want it?” he breathes, nuzzling your cheek as your fingers tighten in his hair.

“So bad, kook plea- oh!” you squeal as his sinks a finger further into you, pumping it slowly as he eases in a second finger in beside it basking in the way you clench around them whimpering as you drop your hips with every upward stroke of his fingers.

“That’s it baby, just a little more, don’t wanna hurt you.” he sighs feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about being buried in your warmth.

“Need you, please.” Your hips grind into his palm crying out as he pulls his fingers from your heat, soothing you with soft bites to your shoulders.

“Shh, I got you, s’okay, ready for me?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. He spreads your arousal as he gives his cock a few pumps before he lines himself up to your opening.

“Deep breath okay, yeah just like that.” It’s a tight fit as he slowly pushes into your warmth, you groan into his ear at the stretch, twitching as he buries himself deeper. There are tears in your eyes as you clench around his girth, crying out as he grinds your hips into his. You can't take it, can almost taste your release as he continues to grind your hips into his as he whispers soft praise into your skin. His grip on your hips loosens, breath ragged as you continue to grind down on him feeling your walls flutter around his length. Your panting broken incomprehensible words, one’s he recognizes easily as your plea for help. His palm comes down on your ass, the sharp smack accompanied by your gasp when he thrusts into you. He only manages a few pumps of his hips before you wail, clenching around his cock so tightly it almost pains him to just sit and let you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your body has grown slack against him, head buried in his neck as he rubs at your back.

“Are you tapping out on me?” he chuckles into your skin grunting as you twitch in his lap, squeezing your thighs closer.

“Gimme a sec.” you murmur sleepily, lips ghosting over the mole on his neck. He’ll give you all the time you need because you won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Happy valentines day, baby.” he growls when he feels you begin to rock your hips easily lifting you both off the couch and making his way to your bedroom.

“I can't, it's too much.” You cry.

“It’s okay, just a little more.” Jungkook reassures you softly.

“P-please s’too much.” The sob that you let out is whiny, bordering on distressed. Yoonji’s cheeks heat the longer she stands in the hallway, maybe she should’ve announced her entrance instead of barging in. Perhaps if she did she wouldn’t have walked in on you and Jungkook fucking in the kitched.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s perfect.” he sighs followed by your whine, and so Yoonji decided she should just leave. After all there was no use in interrupting if it meant being scarred by the image of her friends mid fuck. She definitely didn't need to see Jungkook’s tiny weiner, gross she thinks closing the door as gently as she can and leaving them blissfully unaware of her accidental presence.

“I hate cutting onion.” you cry when Jungkook cups your face and plants a few kisses to your lips.

“I know baby, but you wanted to learn.” he laughs as you grumble to yourself and he sweeps you up into a hug.

“So should we move on?” he asks, watching you nod excitedly, he’s equally excited to see what the future holds. It may have taken some time and more than ten ounces of semi sweet chocolate but eventually Jungkook learned that you would be the sweetest thing in his life.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #emm writes #an emm writes production #emms jungkook content #collab fic #x reader #bangtanedu #bangtanarmynet #heartsforbtsnet #tbh I might’ve dragged this on a little too much #this might be a clusterf*ck of a fic #long fic #mine writings #seriously I have no idea why it’s 12.4k #ah ranting in the tags as usual #read all the other fics they’re probably better than this #okay I’m done #hope you liked it and please excuse all the spelling mistakes

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5lazarus · 3 years ago

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The Old Gods of Serault

Wanderingly aimlessly through life after death, Felassan is offered a series of bad choices. Imshael guides his way through. A @black-emporium-exchange gift for RosellaWrites. Read the other works in the AO3 Collection here! Read the story on Archive of Our Own here.

Death, Fen’Harel has always said, is but the next adventure, which is the wonderful sort of thing immortals say but do not truly mean. Felassan, being dead, is mostly bored. There is not much to do when you are sundered from your body. Felassan drifts across Thedas and wonders: why the fuck did the Forbidden Ones lose a whole war for this. He sorely misses his physical form.

In the Crossroads he attempts to get Briala’s attention from his place stuck between Fade and Waking Plain, but alas! The People are sundered from their own senses since Fen’Harel raised the Veil. She does not notice him. He amuses himself for about a week, following her around. Then she picks up a new lover, this time thank Mythal not a human, and he decides it’s time to leave her alone.

In the Dales he runs into Mihris. She spits on him and shoots him with lightning, which hurts, and laughs when he screams. He can taste the ozone in the air as she readies another thunderbolt, which would surely shatter the last remnants of his spirit-consciousness. For all that he misses his body, he likes being around to watch things happening.

Felassan thinks fast, and then moans loudly. “Oh!” he cries. “Do that again.”

Mihris lowers her staff. “By the Dread Wolf, you like that?”

Felassan moans to hide the laugh building in his throat. “I just want to feel alive again!” It comes out more plaintive than pleading, but it does its job. In disgust Mihris leaves him, and prays that the Dread Wolf takes him.

“Been there, done that,” Felassan says to her back. “Nothing to write home about.” That is, of course, a lie, but a dead man has his pride. Besides, having no flesh, he is no longer concerned with the demands of the flesh. He sighs, considering what joys he has lost, and moves on.

In Serault he has more fun. The Veil is thin there, so it is easier to interfere with daily life, and Felassan has always enjoyed being a public menace. He whispers revolution in the very exciting dreams of the Well-Read Pig-Farmer. He makes the shadows dance in the Serault glass the Scornful Sorceress attempts to unlock. She has the taint of Mythal in her, he notices: poor soul. However much she plays at making eluvians, she will never have control over where they take her.

In the workshop, Felassan remarks, “Don’t worry, da’len. The Dread Wolf will set you free, and you’ll live to complain about it.” She does not even look up. Mortals are so very dull sometimes. The interest lies, of course, in how they grow and change, over countless generations. Felassan hadn’t been as interested in the petty wars of the dwarves and men as Fen’Harel had been, and it is funny in a deadly sort of way that this is the hill he chose to die on. He looks at the Scornful Sorceress and murmurs, “Come on. Be a little more fun.”

She gets herself banished from Serault but runs off with the glassworks anyway, and Felassan laughs the whole while, following her trail into the Applewood. The Tirashan has always been weird. The apples guarding the outskirts are new, and not nearly as intoxicating as the ones Sylaise’s people cultivated, but still Felassan trails a hand through the leaves and the giddy red fruit. He can almost taste them. He cannot, of course, so he sits down next to Mythal’s odd daughter and watches her chomp down on apple after apple with vicarious enjoyment.

“Oh, you’re going to make yourself so sick,” he says, amused. “Too much knowledge, da’len. You can’t binge it like that.”

The Fade-memories of the Applewood take her at once, and she shrieks as she begins to hallucinate through all the different hunts. Felassan watches for a bit. The memories leave her sensible enough to drink and shit, and once she begins to recover, he wanders deeper into the woods. Fade-touched fruit has always been used for initiates; the Scornful Sorceress seems to be tripping over rituals that will always overwhelm her. It is a shame that the preparation has been lost. It means the knowledge is gone, too.

Deeper in the woods the Veil thins, and Felassan begins to feel skin again. The leaf litter of the forest is springy under his feet. He draws in an impossible breath. The air tastes hungry, sucking greedily at his lungs. He flickers, aching, and then shakes his hands out. There is another person’s will at work here, threatening his thoughtform.

“Hey,” he calls into the deepening woods. “Who’s there?”

Imshael comes sauntering out of the twilight. He wears the body of the Seneschal of Serault: hair close-shaven, face unremarkably middle-aged, the frame fleshy but not in the way. Felassan groans. He likes Imshael, he really does, he’s always enjoyed partying with the Forbidden Ones—but it’s better when sacrifice is codified. This age ignores all their laws, and Imshael is happy to exploit those loopholes.

Imshael cocks the body’s eyebrow and says, “Dread Wolf got your tongue?”

Felassan says gloomily, “A fucking lightning strike.” He does not tell him that Fen’Harel is still too weak to banish and disintegrate spirits in the Fade. He likes Imshael, he really does. He’s always enjoyed how the disembodied spirit manages to claw his way through history, better than the rest of them from Arlathan, really. He respects the impulse for chaos—but the wanton destruction, the entrain-arrangement, and general lack of empathy? If Fen’Harel deems it necessary to disintegrate the will that is Imshael, Felassan will not complain.

Imshael says, “Tut, tut. Serves you right for believing the Old Wolf’s lies. This age is so much meaner than when we were young.” He stretches the body’s grin a little too wide for its face, pulling the edges of its mouth back as if he had stuck fishhooks in the corners. “I love it. People are so much more desperate than they were under Mythal’s justice. And there are so many new ways to entice them—not just the old ‘power, riches, virgins’ trick, I can offer them ‘lost knowledge.’ Like crop rotation.”

Felassan says, “You know about crop rotation?”

Imshael shrugs.

Felassan begins to laugh. Of course Imshael doesn’t know about crop rotation. Felassan doesn’t know anything about crop rotation. They’re spirits now, why the fuck would they know about crop rotation? He says, admiringly, “By the Dread Wolf, you are such a dick.”

Imshael says, “I don’t even need to try anymore. With your old master breaking out of the Fade, I just get to kick back, relax, and let the choosers come to me.” He forces the left eyelid of the corpse he inhabits to twitch a wink; the muscles pull at the distorted smile. Imshael lets the face relax. “Bodies—so many choices, so many little muscles to twitch! How did you handle it, having one all the time?”

Felassan says truthfully, “I didn’t think about it much.” He misses the choices he could make, to stretch his legs by the fire in the heady woods at night, to stick his fingers into loamy soil and smell the hungry earth, to edge his teeth along another person’s bottom lip. He places a finger where his lips once were, but of course he has no fingers anymore, just his own thoughtform.

“Careful,” Imshael says, dead eyes glinting. “Too much thought and you’ll break.”

Anxiety laces through him, because thought is all he has and thought keeps him whole, and in the worry he feels himself disintegrating in the old wood of the Tirashan. The scent of apples grows stronger, alcoholic, sick fermentation in blood that he no longer has—and then he remembers: Imshael is fucking with me. He wants to strike a deal. All that I have are my choices; Imshael shall not take those away. Flurrying into himself, Felassan stretches out his edges and feels the forest shift around him. The Tirashan is older than he is. The wood whispers: mine.

Felassan says, “Is that why you stuck yourself in that body? To keep the Tirashan from taking you? I quite like the Applewood, actually. Feels a bit like home.”

Imshael says, “Home that eats us alive, yes. Some of the old gods still linger, my friend.” There is a smile in his voice but he leaves the body alone. “Fen’Harel isn’t the only big thing coming. You can feel it, can’t you. That’s what drew you to the Applewood. What was once lost is no longer Forgotten.”

Felassan really has had enough of egregious poeticisms. He says, a bit testily, “What do you want, Imshael? Why are you here? Are you saying I was drawn here? Nothing compells me.”

Lacing roots ground him and the woods expand with one earthy exhale, and even Imshael’s body react electrically as the leaf litter wraps around its ankles. The Horned Knight eases out of the old tree.

Felassan breathes, “Daern’thal.”

The Horned Knight inclines his head and says, “One aspect.” The Forgotten Ones were driven to the edges of the map long before Fen’Harel raised the Veil and threw the world into catastrophe. This aspect of the old god, Daern’thal, has found refuge in the Applewood. Felassan is afraid. He would have been afraid even if he had a body, even if the Veil had not been raised. He never met the gods without Fen’Harel to protect him. Imshael is an interesting substitute.

Daern’thal has chosen the shape of a wooden man, echoing the humans who have driven his worshippers into the shadows of the glens. Halla horn bursts from his forehead. Rather than deal with the issue of mortal mucosity, the Forgotten One has placed eyes of fish scale and snakeskin into the indentation of his sockets. Thin bands of fungal mycelium bind his limbs together. Lust stirs in Felassan’s heart. He can make himself a body like that, if only he could learn how.

Imshael smiles.

One does not refuse an invitation from a god, even a Forgotten One. Felassan pushes against Imshael’s receptical’s shoulders, testing the electric nervous system of the dead flesh, but Imshael pushes against him.

“Only room for one,” he says flatly. “Unless?”

“Nah,” Felassan says. “I’m good here, thanks.” He follows the shambling corpse to the hall of the Horned Knight, a round tower in a narrow glen, dark and wet with green.

“Heartwood Court,” the Knight says, and bids them enter. The upper floors have partially collapsed into each other like dominos after they have been flicked, and Felassan stares nervously at stars glimmering between the leaves of the flowering roof. Of course, these mortal worries are beyond him. Wood and stone can do him no harm. At the center, indeed of the heart of the hall, grows a great tree, whose autumn-colored canopy provides some cover. Felassan sees a star twinkle, and then burn out: not enough.

The grass shines, dusted with shards of an old mirror. The Horned Knight has laid blankets of moss over toppled pillars, a facsimile of a great table. His servants gather, enthralled to his Will. Moss grows within their eyes and flowers bloom from their skin, patterned in the same tattooed ropes of the vallaslin.

Felassan touches the plush moss and is surprised when the moss pushes back. The Veil is thin here. He sits, suddenly ravenous. Daern’thal has hacked his way from the Void and back into the Waking World and made himself a body of earth and scale. If he can learn, he can stretch again. He can taste. He can bite. Imshael settles next to him, monstrously smug.

Felassan says, “You did this on purpose.”

“You’re welcome,” Imshael says. “Consider it a thank-you gift, for making sure I didn’t waste my time tormenting little Mihris. Here, it’s so much more fun. Subtler choices to make, with a much longer reach.” Their arms brush. Felassan starts at the touch.

He says, desire in his voice, “The Veil is very thin here.”

At the center of the great table the Horned Knight arranges himself, in a throne hewn of apple-wood. Glorious smells intoxicate the air: meat fresh-roasted over a well-loved fired, basted in its own blood. Saliva comes to Felassan’s mouth, and he swallows and licks his lips. Silent servants shuffle woodenly by the table, bearing a grotesque boar with its death scream still echoing in its mouth. Imshael reaches for the apple in its mouth and plucks it out. He offers it to Felassan.

Felassan says, “No. Not yet. No.”

Imshael smiles. “Not yet. But soon.” He lays it between Felassan’s hands, slowly gaining solidity. Felassan clenches his fists. Imshael is looking at him up from through his eyelashes. It would have a more charming effect if the body he occupies weren’t clearly dead.

There are rules of hospitality that must be followed. One does not eat before one’s host. Imshael wants him to; Imshael enjoys violation, the breaching of taboo. Felassan likes the bend and breach too, but it is easier to navigate in the Fade, where everything is up for debate. He watches his host. The Horned Knight burns with the old fire of the Forgotten Gods. The Veil warps around him, and the discordance of the waking and the dreaming syncopates into the beat of a living, muscled heart. Daern’thal figured it out. He lives, without a body, a thing of muscles and spells. He does not need to will every pump of blood. Imshael and Felassan gaze upon him with mutual lust.

“My guests,” he says. “Old countrymen from a country that exists only in our worst dream-rambles. Imshael Choice-Bringer I know has poached in my wood these two season. Small prey I grant him.”

Felassan sneaks a glance at Imshael. The corpse looks sour.

“Small prey,” Imshael rumbles. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

If Felassan had a consistent face, he would grin at that. He does like Imshael, after all. Who else would think to take on a remnant of a Forgotten One, in his own hall? What is he going to do, offer him a choice?

“And you, Slow Arrow, dropped from the Dread Wolf’s quiver, broken but undecayed. Piecemeal but awaiting restoration. Unbodied the both of you. Living not-death, I welcome you the same.”

Talk why do you do like that, Felassan thinks. Not even Solas got that bad. A flash of anger runs through him, and he is surprised to see his hands clench, and then they are gone. The moss lays undisturbed on the ruined pillar that is the table. He smells the dinner, he does not smell it. One does not need sensation for an appetite. He hungers. Imshael smiles.

Out of the corpse’s mouth Imshael says, “You’ve guarded the Tirashan well against the Evanuris and their lapdog. A shame this hall’s in ruins. What happened? Don’t you miss your temples?”

“The People worship us enough,” the Horned Knight says calmly. He carves a slice from the spit and places it on a golden plate. “Those the Evanuris would have seen erased have writ themselves large on the landscape. I am, in eternity, lord of these woods.” He has started speaking subject-verb-object again, Felassan notes. He is irritated. The Forgotten Ones were always easy to wind up. Then he realizes—

“What meat is that?” Felassan asks faintly. “Boar?” He hopes it is not halla; even the most degraded of their descendants still hold their kin sacred.

The Horned Knight’s fish scale eyes gleam in their own dark fire. He repeats, “The People worship us enough. They understand sacrifice, how to wear and tear ’til blood seeps into the Dreaming and yanks it awake.”

The Horned Knight passes the plate to Imshael, who passes it stiffly to Felassan. He catches it, flesh rapidly outlined, and places it onto the moss-tablecloth. A servant across the room smiles vacantly; the same moss that adorns the table covers her eyes. Onion flowers dot down her face in the slash of an X. Her skin is coated in red ochre. She does not taste of the Tirashan. She stinks, but not terribly, of Mythal. It is the Scornful Sorceress, Mythal’s troublesome little daughter. That means there is a limit to the Horned Knight’s reach; while he can eat and he can drink, he cannot smell. He does not know the presence of other gods.

Imshael and Felassan look at each other for a long moment. Wordlessly they agree, and let the girl be.

The Horned Knight cuts himself a prime slice and takes a bite. His teeth are the spiraling arms of living crinoids, tearing at the cooked flesh. His tongue is a flash of autumn leaf.

Imshael whispers, “Well? Aren’t you going to eat?”

Felassan whispers, “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t have a digestive system anymore.”

“Well, I’m dead. I don’t either.”

Imshael says, “Do you really think Daern’thal is living? Death eating death. How much of him is simply the Tirashan’s mycelium? Sacrifice won’t keep you whole for long.”

The dryad servants sway in time with the rustle of the leaf-wind. A woman with willow for hair pulls out a bone flute and begins to play. Richly the notes come like a sunset, winding around him like a drink. He is hungry for a body. Daern’thal has one. Perhaps he can share. It is about time he begins killing gods, rather than letting them kill him.

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

Felassan says fondly, “Get the fuck out of my thoughtform.”

The Forbidden One laughs, a rictus of death. The sacrifice steams on the plate over the altar. Neither of them eat. The servants are singing now, in the tree’s breath. First a rumble comes deep from their throats, then the rising chorus of sun and sugar, salt and carbon, bark and heart’s wood. They sway like young birches in the bite of winter’s breeze. He knows the steps and would dance it, if he had feet.

“Dead man’s shuffle?” Imshael offers.

Felassan says, “No.” He can do better than piggybacking off a decaying corpse, tricking mortals into giving up their form and discarding them as soon as they begin to rot. He watches the Horned Knight eat. It’s horrible, but it is living. He says, “I want that body.”

Imshael says, “Good choice.”

The Scornful Sorceress is not quite swaying in time with the others. The moss covering her eyes is thinner. A flower has fallen from the X-shaped vallaslin. Quick, Felassan thinks. Quick. Make your choice before it’s made for you. Don’t be like me.

The Horned Knight says, “My horn. Let us drink, and trade a story for a story, a boon for a boon.” The living wood comes forth bearing a lyrium-laced drinking horn in the shape of a silver halla, legs folded. Around the rim a scene is wrought, of a dying god clawing his way out of the Void to return to the Tirashan. The god becomes the wood, his body woven by the network of fungal decay that keeps the hivemind of the trees living and speaking. He says, “I was a spirit and I was a god and once I was a mere elf, running to the shelter of a Tirashan. The woods took me into their heart. Daern’thal made this horn, to safeguard against the Old Wolf’s tricks. I drank from it. We persist. What are your stories, my countrymen?”

Imshael says, “I refused to be limited by the boundaries of a body. A singular outline defers choice. I am Opportunity and I am Envy. Without a body, I can be both. The choice is yours.”

Felassan says, “Yes. I was the Dread Wolf’s Slow Arrow, the last-ditch plan he broke. I lost my body, but where there is thought, there is form. I am still living. I will persist. What do I need to do, to drink from that horn?”

Imshael smiles. The ochre woman is not even swaying at all.

The Horned Knight says, “You may drink of it only if you stay to the truth of your name. The Veil is breaking. Old magic returns, beyond what we have hidden in the Applewood. I grant you both this life if you stay true to it. Remain Imshael, the impossible choice. Stay the Slow Arrow, which flies the course.” The bark-cut mouth twists into a smile, fossil-teeth bared. “But know this. Once you drink of it, you are of it. The Tirashan has its due. You may remain distinct, but the mycelium persists. You are Felassan, but you will become the Tirashan too.”

Felassan pushes away the plate of flesh. He says, “Would I be able to leave the woods?

The Horned Knight smiles again. He says, “We know what is to come. What is to say that in the end, there will be anything but the woods?”

Fen’Harel is coming to break every chain. Fen’Harel is taking down the Veil and restoring Arlathan and its dark woods. The time of the quicklings is coming to an end. Slow magic, eating away at life, survives, neither flora or fauna.

Felassan says, “No,” and the ochre-servant snatches the horn from the Horned Knight’s wooden hands and sprints out of the hall, shifting into a massive bear. Imshael cackles with laughter. He says, “That’s no choice at all. Careful, there. You’ll put out Imshael out of a job.”

Imshael smiles. “And that’s no choice at all.”

#the old gods of serault #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #da fanfic #the last court #the masked empire #felassan #imshael #mihris #morrigan #the horned knight #felassan/imshael #horror #comedy #fanfic

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years ago

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Birthday Boy || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You plan Denki the most epic party, but save the best gift for last 😉

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!Reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content, heavy drinking (but being safe about it)

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub bingo event! Huge thanks to @shoutogepi for betaing, u always come thru for my denki content, like where would i be without u 😭 This is for Denki’s b-day (that passed lol) but ima just post anyway so hope you enjoy! 💖

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Denki’s in the corner overlooking the scene in front of him with a drunken smirk on his face. This party is going down as the most epic rager in the history of ragers. The spacious backyard allowed you to hire a DJ to come in and pump beats through a bad ass stereo system that even Jirou approved of. And she has unbelievably high standards considering her quirk. The bass is turned up all the way that Denki can feel it thumping against his chest.

You took the time to decorate the rest of the yard with canopies and fairy lights, providing a pretty backdrop over the starry sky. Denki’s birthday is in summer so the breeze tickling his skin was just right. People are still splashing in the pool despite it being ten at night.

Denki sees you across the yard, waving goodbye to the taco man you hired. You actually planned the whole party on your own. Denki had no idea how you balanced party planning with late-night work shifts, all the while keeping it a secret so Denki wouldn’t find out.

Then again, it wasn’t that hard to keep it from him, Denki literally heard you on the phone, hiring the taco man for his birthday, and he still didn’t think anything of it. You made sure to invite all of his pro-hero friends. It was relatively tame for the first hour until Sero challenged Denki to a keg stand, and Denki has no shame so there he stood in the middle of his backyard at two in the afternoon, hanging upside down with Sero and Kirishima holding him up, and guzzling as much beer as he could before he toppled over. The Bakusquad all yelling “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” and of course, Bakugou had to chime in, saying he could do it for longer.

And that’s how all the pro-heroes of the future generation that are deemed “noble saviors” by society end up challenging each other to various drinking games. You got the cheap booze, but no one could tell the difference by the third cup.

“You say… boobs? where...” Mineta slurs, wrenching his guts out into a flower pot. Poor flower.

Oh. Denki just narrated that whole beginning scene out loud. In the third person. Whoops.

Nobody wanted to invite Mineta, but it was Denki’s party so they all stuck it out for one night. After a few rounds of the typical high school party games in which Bakugou took every opportunity to shit all over -

“Why the fuck… we’re pro… pro-heroes... playin’ this… this... kiddy… sippy cup shit…”

Don’t worry, Kirishima shuts Bakugou up real fast. With his mouth.

“No one shuts me up! You hear… I- I will fuuuck…” Kirishima pulls Bakugou in for another kiss, and Denki peeps some tongue. Go Kiribaku! Mina, of course, came up with the ship name, she comes up with all of them, but Denki loves the ship name you two share the most. It’s what Mina calls… fuck… what’s it stand for? T-O-P? P-O-T? O-T-P? Denki shrugs, thinking it’s one of ‘em, and that he definitely ships you with him all day every day.

Where are you by the way? Denki needs his fill of you, a kiss every twenty minutes dammit! He hangs onto the wall when he walks, the room spinning way too much, but he’s still able to discern you from the chaos. A halo of light surrounds your figure, giving you an angelic appearance, though that can just be Denki’s vision going in and out of focus.

Denki lifts his hands up to his face, as if he were a photographer trying to get the best angle for a shot. You’re collecting empty cups from people and refilling them with water. At least that’s what Denki surmises since everyone groans when you hand them back their cup.

“Oh no, Y/N, Denki’s doing that thing again with his hands where he’s pretending to be a cameraman! Help!”

Denki giggles at the talking broccoli in his living room. Broccoli is such a nice guy, always looking after everyone, he's the number one broccoli for a reason ya know.

Denki couldn’t have asked for a better girlfriend, I mean, have you seen yourself? You strut over like a model that could end Tyra Bank’s whole damn career, hips swaying in a seductive rhythm to the marching drum of Denki’s soundtrack in his head. Denki really wants to run his hands all over you, dammit, he’s been hoping to get you alone since this afternoon for some birthday sex, but with all the last-minute planning you were doing, it was never the right time.

“Now’s a good a time as any, birthday boy.” You whisper in his ear, making Denki jump when he realizes you caught him narrating out loud. This is why Denki loves you. You put up with all his weird shit.

Denki lurches forward, wobbling slightly, and proceeds to drag you upstairs. You giggle at his impatience, looking around to find the Bakusquad passed out on the couch and definitely staying the night. No way in hell are you letting anyone go home in their inebriated state. Sero is wrapped from head to toe in his own tape after Denki dared him to mummify himself. Mina is curled up on one side of the couch with her makeup miraculously still in place after all the swimming, dancing, and streaking (yes, you heard that correctly, it was a dare) Kirishima and Bakugou are cuddling on another couch, with Bakugou’s head tucked into Kirishima’s arm. Halfway through the night, Kirishima lost his shirt and he’s just been chilling shirtless the entire night.

“Hold up, this is too good,” you giggle, motioning for Denki to pose in the middle. Denki looks about ready to pass out next to them, with his eyes half-closed and smile so dopey, you’d think he just came back from overusing his quirk. You take a picture of the chaos that is your boyfriend and friends, and decide it will definitely make it into the scrapbook.

Denki drags you down the hall, like this is his first time exploring the place you’ve shared for the past two years, and leads you into every room.

“Denki, this is the bathroom!”

“Then why is there a bed?” He looks genuinely confused trying to pull you into the bathtub.

“Okay, you are way too drunk. Sure you can get it up?” You wonder if he’ll even remember your sexcapades in the morning.

“I’ll let you be the judge,” Denki pulls your hand to his crotch, which is already rock-solid through his jeans. You bite your lip, teasing the outline with your fingertips, and relishing in every twitch of his hardness. Denki huffs, clearly wanting to get this show on the road, because he throws your hand off and drags you into the next room so fast you trip over your feet.

Denki pumps his arms and shouts “huzzah!” in victory when he finally finds the bedroom, and you giggle at the loveable doof. But, any sign of light-hearted energy vanishes the moment Denki’s lips are on you. Before you know it, you’re pushed against the door, with your thighs spread apart. Anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach, bubbling at the newfound friction of Denki’s thigh rubbing against your delicate center. He takes it upon himself to rub his cock against the inside of your thigh with absolutely no shame.

“Eager now, are we?”

Hell yeah, Denki’s eager, birthday sex is best sex… well, any sex is best sex as long as he’s getting sex. Heh. Denki should take a shot every time he says sex.

“I think you’ve had enough shots to last you till next year, birthday boy.”

Fuuuuck Denki didn’t know birthday boy was a thing for him, but now he needs every day to be his birthday, just so you call him that. And oh my god who the hell decided criss-cross straps were a good idea? It’s like a fucking maze trying to figure out how to unclasp your bra. You reach around to unclasp it yourself when Denki whines in frustration. He cuts his whine mid-way, when he sees your naked chest, nipples taut and ready to be played with. Just when he’s about to pinch your nipple, you send him for a loop and flip positions, trapping him against the door. And Denki is 100% okay with that too.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll make it the best gift you’ve gotten tonight, birthday boy, ”

You whisper directly into his ear, nibbling and licking at the lobe. You’re awarded with a slurred giggle that brings a smile to your own face. Denki throws his shirt over his head, but instead of it looking sexy like a Taylor Lautner scene in Twilight, Denki ends up getting his head stuck. You torture him for a few seconds by just standing there watching him get his arms tangled in the mix before finally helping him.

He’s still wearing that ridiculous Pikachu party hat Kirishima gave him, and when you try to slip it off, he swats your hand away. You pull his shirt over his head, and come to the conclusion that it’s not true birthday sex if said birthday boy isn’t wearing a 99 cent store party hat. Nothing can stop the delicious tingling making your pussy flutter.

He pins you with his sudden change of demeanor, even though you’re the one pinning him against the door. It amazes you how he can change from this doof wearing a party hat to 'yeah, fuck me, daddy' in three seconds straight. The electricity sizzling the room is squeezing your heart threatening to burst, as you take in Denki’s unrelenting gaze.

“I want you naked, on your knees, and worshipping my cock, unwrapping it with your tongue.”

You gulp at the unexpected switch, heat pulsing between your thighs as newfound wetness seeps through. A dark tone colors the usual tenor timbre of his voice. You slide out of your jeans and Denki takes his time ravishing every inch of your naked body with his honey-glazed eyes. He weaves his fingers, massaging the roots of your hair, and pulls you down so your eye level with his crotch.

“And then you’ll thank me for the gift by swallowing every last drop of my cum.”

Your mouth waters at his bulge on display, and you can’t stop yourself from mouthing him through his jeans. You nose at the rough fabric, biting the zipper and pulling it down with your teeth. You make sure to look up at Denki when you press a teasing kiss to the tip where there’s a wet spot, pre-cum leaking through his boxer briefs. His lips are kiss-bitten red partnered with a cute flush spread across the apples of his cheeks like he’s been out in the sun a little too long.

You love every part of Denki, you really do, but he’s giving you the sign to hurry up with how he’s literally grinding against your face. His cock bobs, hitting his stomach, when you pull his briefs down; it’s pinker than usual, he’s been horny for a while you think, and it’s leaking so much pre-cum that it’s running down the shaft. You nuzzle your face in, taking in his scent at the most concentrated part of him. You might burst if you don’t touch yourself, but it’s Denki’s night, and you want to focus all your attention on pleasing him. You’re busy having this internal debate when you hear a gruff voice from above you.

“It’s okay, baby girl, go ahead n touch yourself.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You spread your legs enough to trace the outline of your folds and gather enough of your juices to start rubbing your clit in a fierce rhythm. At the same time, you lick the underside of Denki’s cock, following the path of the vein leading up to the head, where you swirl your tongue in circles. You pull off the tip with a pop.

“Birthday boy’s gone quiet,” you whisper, looking up at Denki. It’s true. He hasn’t made a sound which makes you a little concerned he’s not enjoying it. You voice this concern openly.

“Am I doing it wrong?”

He shakes his head, “No, baby, I love it… just… enjoying the view,” his breath hitches at the end.

Fuck, Denki thinks, how could that even cross your mind? Not when you’re naked on your knees, chest blossomed with different colored hickeys Denki’s left on you from the week before. You’re giving him that doe-eyed look that completely contradicts your naughty actions of suckling his balls. Denki bites his lip when your tongue peeps from your lips to get his cock warm and wet, but what he doesn’t expect is for you to pull away. Denki groans at the loss of heat surrounding his cock. You wipe the spit dribbling from your lips with the back of your hand.

“Babe, I love you and all your weirdness, but I will stop going down on you if I have to hear you refer to yourself in the third person one more time.”

“But it’s my birthday,” Denki moans, banging his head against the door.

You roll your eyes, tempted to retort with “it’s my mouth,” but pleasuring Denki is top priority, and apparently Denki very much agrees with this sentiment as he forces your head towards his cock. You don’t have time to catch your breath before you’re diving face-first into a mouth full of Denki. Tears spring from your eyes at the shock of his cock hitting the back of your throat, but once you relax your throat and neck, you return to rubbing circles against your dripping clit to the same rhythm of Denki fucking into your mouth. You moan, causing vibrations to thrum around his cock and travel through every synapse of his body.

“Fuck yeah mmmmm… just like that, knew you could do it, fuck baby you take me in so good like my cock was made for your tight little pussy and mouth,” Denki groans, unable to filter what’s coming out of his mouth. The sight of his cock going all the way in and out of your mouth, sucking him in almost as good as your pussy, makes his balls tighten and he knows he’s getting close.

“You like that, huh? You like being stuffed full of my cock? You don’t care which hole as long as I’m fuckin’ into one, isn’t that right, baby girl?”

You moan in response, eyes rolling in the back of your head, as you chase the high you’re so desperately looking for. The end is in sight, just around the corner. You press your fingers harder against your clit, rubbing intense figure eights, as you choke on Denki’s cock. Your jaw is starting to ache, but you’re at the home stretch now. When you try to pull off to gasp for air, Denki grips your hair tighter, and thrusts his hips forward. All you can do is sit there and take his thick cock, saliva dripping down your chin, mixing with the sweat glistening your chest. Your nose is pressed against his pelvis, so each time you breathe in, the scent of Denki hits you hard, his happy trail tickling the inside of your nose.

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you look right now touching yourself. Like swallowing my cock turns you on that fuckin’ much.”

The raw power of having Denki above you, saying these filthy things, even with that fucking party hat on, is making your pussy flutter, almost like your body is begging for him to slide into you this instant. As a compromise, you insert two fingers into your pussy and start to rock your hips, riding your fingers in time to Denki fucking your mouth.

“Ah shit ah… mmmmm you wish it was my cock inside you, huh? Bet you’re so fuckin’ soaked that I’d slide right in.”

You moan in affirmation, your pussy quaking at the suggestion, begging to be filled. The coil tightening your core is about to snap, and your thighs shake in sheer anticipation of the wave of pleasure about to spill. Just when you’re about to come, Denki pulls you out from under him. You only have a moment to gasp for much-needed air before you’re slammed up against the door. Denki slams into you so deep that his cock hits your g-spot on the first thrust. He’s ramming into you so hard that your thigh starts to slip down. Denki picks you up, patting your bum as a signal for you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Tell me…mmmm fuuuck…how much you love my cock,” he finally grits out, his words getting lost between the sounds of your love-making.

You didn’t expect to be pleasured tonight by Denki, and honestly, you were completely okay with finishing yourself off, but knowing that he’s taking the time to make sure you’re taken care of when it’s his night turns you on even more. A filthy, squelching sound can be heard every time Denki pushes in, coating his cock with your juices.

“Ah… mmmm… I love your cock, baby - love… how... mmmm… it fits in my mouth... and fills me up. I love when you’re inside me, and... you fill me up with your cum and there’s so much it drips out… Your cock is the best I’ve ever had… God baby, I feel like it’s my birthday tonight.” You babble in between kisses and moans.

“I want you to feel good too, baby, now come on lemme hear you scream. I want everyone downstairs to know you’re taking my cock and loving it.”

Both of you are a damn mess at this point. Your hair sticking to your face, and drool dribbling down your chin, but all you can think about is the wave of pleasure about to seize your entire being. Denki feels it too since he starts thrusting at an uneven pace, but still able to hit your g-spot with unapologetic precision, like the sharpshooter he is.

It takes one more deep thrust to topple you headfirst into the abyss of your long-awaited orgasm, and oh does it feel good.

“Denki! I- oh god- right there! Right fucking there, oh god I-I’m- mmmm...”

A scream is ripped from your throat, as your back is slammed against the door, your boobs bouncing up and down from the sheer force of Denki’s thrusts. He found his way down to your pussy, making sure to rub your clit with his thumb, so you get the dual sensation. Liquid heat rushes through every inch of you, releasing any and all tension from your body. Denki continues to fuck into you, making sure you come more than once. He groans when your pussy clenches around his dick, but he doesn’t stop riding your orgasm out with you until you’re completely spent. Your body buzzes in the blissful after-effects, but you come back to reality when Denki grunts.

“Fuck, babe, lemme come all over that pretty face.”

You whine at the dull throb of your pussy, the thought of being covered in Denki’s seed is exciting you despite just getting off. You unwrap your legs from his waist, and make your way down on your knees once again. Denki takes himself in his hand and works himself in overtime with coordination you had no idea he still possessed while being this tipsy. Seeing the outline of his flexing bicep reminds you of how much power he wields over you. You eagerly await for him to finish on you. You lick your lips, hoping to catch any drops of come that land in your mouth.

“Say ah,” Denki pries your jaw open with his other hand.

“Ahhhh,” you obey, looking up at him expectantly. You run your fingers wherever you can; his arms, down his stomach, his thighs like you don’t know where to hold on to for purchase. He speeds his hand up a little more, his jaw clicks and you see his jawbone protrude, giving a masculine, angular look to his face. Everything about Denki right now screams dominance that you’re wondering if this is even your Denki. You’re taken out of your thoughts when he groans, spilling his seed all over your face and in your mouth.

“Just like that… fuck yeah… now swallow like the good girl I know you are.”

There’s so much come that it drips down your chest and between your cleavage. He groans at the sight of you covered in his seed, and he makes sure to milk every last drop. You make sure to look up at him when you swivel his cum around like your finger painting, before bringing it up to your mouth and sucking it. You make sure to lick yourself clean, not wanting any to go to waste, and Denki watches with his mouth slightly open and chest heaving, trying to catch his breath, but it’s impossible with the image in front of him.

Once you finish putting on a show, you get up and take Denki by the hand to lead him to the bed you share. There’s a moment of stillness, electricity still buzzing through the room, but you’re both way too exhausted from the long day to have any energy to really bask in the afterglow. You’re caught up in your own thoughts, but you’re interrupted when you hear a “honk” and catch Denki blowing a kazoo with his party hat barely hanging onto the side of his face. You still can’t believe you came with him wearing that hat; you must really love him. He looks thoroughly fucked out and like he’s just had the best birthday ever.

Denki’s had the best birthday ever. Period. He turns to snuggle into you, despite both of you being sweaty and sticky. He wants to feel you against him.

“Thank you, Y/N, for today, and for all the birthdays before, and the many others to come. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world being able to spend them all with you.” He trails off as a yawn takes over. You lean forward to kiss him lovingly on the lips. Your noses rub together in that sickly sweet way that everyone secretly loves, but pretends to hate if they see another couple doing it.

And as his eyes threaten to shut, Denki thinks it’s a perfect finish to a perfect night. The end. He faintly hears you giggle, and the last thing Denki hears before he drifts to sleep is-

“It’s only the beginning, birthday boy, only the beginning. Happy birthday, Denki.”

#kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #kaminari denki #kaminari denki smut #bnhabookclub #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari smut #kaminari denki imagine #kaminari denki scenarios #bnha smut #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fic #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fic

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