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1kook · 4 years ago

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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peakyscillian · 4 years ago

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Break | Cillian Murphy x Fem!Reader | One Shot - Prompt |

Summary: Based off of the break up prompt lists. "I've thought about it. All night. And I think we both should take a break." & "I loved you. And I don't think I could ever forget you. Had things never gone south, I'd— I would've grown old with you. I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore." Warnings: Language, heartbreak. Request: Anon. A/N: Okkkk I struggled to break up with Cillian because why would I?. This has a little bit of Joe Cole x reader as well. I'm so sorry if I also break your hearts wirth this! Let me know if you want to be on my taglist!

•Break•

You had given up and decided to head to bed once the clock turned to midnight, you were waiting up for your boyfriend. You'd been doing that alot lately. Cillian would wander in whenever he pleased, not letting you know where he was or had been. You were barely exchanging words when you were around each other, and the last time you'd been intimate was a distant memory.

The thought of not even having him try to kiss your face all over when he returned from a few weeks filming was enough to make you hiccup out a sob as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, you were losing him and you had no clue what had caused it.

You threw back the heavy duvet, climbing under it, you grabbed for his pillow it smelt just like him and you needed that right now,you needed to know you could have something of him close. The bedroom door opening and the light from the hall signalled he was back, you hadn't seen him since 7am that morning you were rushing out the door to work, had managed to slip a kiss to his cheek as he busied himself with making breakfast, he had grumbled a see ya later as you closed the door behind you.

Rolling over you watched as he undressed, dropped his clothes into the hamper just inside the wardrobe and headed for the bathroom, you heard the shower turn on, with a sigh you left the bed, opening the bathroom door you sat on the marble side, waiting for him to finish.

His blue eyes flicked over you as he stepped out, your eyes trailed over his body the carved out abs on his stomach, his broad shoulders all the working out for Peaky Blinders was paying off. "Do you even love me, anymore?" you asked arms folded across your chest, Cillian stopped dead in his tracks only moving to wrap a towel around his waist, the water dropping from his hair onto his back. His muscles flexed as his huffed out a breath ""I've thought about it. All night. And I think we both should take a break" his voice was calm, carefully measured he hadn't turned to look at you. Without a word you moved from the side, biting back tears you left the bathroom, heart shattering with every step. Grabbing the pillow you had been curled into you snatched your phone from the bedside table, the charger and your laptop. Cillian had appeared from the bathroom. You looked at him, the hurt evident on your face "I'll be gone tomorrow" you didn't look back as you left your shared room, heading for the guest room furthest away so he wouldn't hear your heartbreak even more. Sure enough the next mornig, you were gone and Cillian knew he'd made the biggest mistake. *** Cillian spotted you sat out on the terrace, of course you would be here, you'd spent years of your life around his castmate, years of friendship formed between you all. Of course you'd be celebrating Paul and Annie's engagement with them. He just wasn't prepared to see you with Joe, you hadn't spoke to him at all in the year since he broke up with you, you had made sure the house was cleared whilst he was away and you'd definitely diverted his calls. You were sat at the table, in a simple denim summer dress, your hair was shorter but it suited you, you were leaning in close to Joe, his smile was definitely down to you, you always knew how to make people happy. He knew how bad he'd treated you, how he'd left you wondering every evening at home, whether he'd return or not. The press and pressure of your age had got to him, he needed a private life craved one but the fact he'd stepped out with you half his age and so open had pulled his life into the spotlight, he couldn't deal with it so he had hurt you in the process. Helen and Natasha had told him about your relationship with Joe, with how it had all happened so naturally after you had reappeared from hiding away from them all, Joe trying his hardest to mend your heart. Sophie had been so angry with him, told him he was selfish and ridiculous to think anything outside of your relationship mattered so much that he had to break your heart that way. Cillian just hadn't expected to have to deal with seeing you curled into Joe's side, dropping kisses to his cheek the way you had with him and then you were walking up the path to the kitchen where he'd been hiding. You had stalled slightly at the sight of him, the sight of him there in front of you, after a year of avoiding him, you had childishly ignored his calls not wanting to hear him reason with you over his decision, not wanting to hear his stupid excuses. You walked past him, straight to the bathroom in the hall, stealing a few extra minutes to catch your breath after that familiar scent of his aftershave caught your senses and knocked the breath from your lungs. It had took you months to even want to speak to anyone about him, Helen had held you so many times as you sobbed, as you cursed her closest friend, wished him some kind of pain like the one he had caused you. Joe had took you out on a friend date, something to make you feel normal and then at the end of the night his lips had brushed yours and you felt so many emotions, you'd cried right there on your doorstep, he wrapped you tight in his arms, rocked you on the sofa whispered promises you weren't sure you could believe.

You had believed them though, you'd let him in even with the fear of judgement from others, about moving on within the group but he had brushed all those fears away, he'd let everyone know when you were ready and the support was enormous everyone just wanted you happy. Cillian was waiting outside the bathroom, he need to speak to you, he needed to hear your honey coated voice once more, it had been too long. "Hi y/n" he spoke softly not to make you jump. You smiled at him, not quite reaching your eyes "Hey Cill, how are you?" you had took the polite route, you didn't want to ruin Paul and Annie's day. Cillian had nodded sipping from his drink, a little shocked at how easily his nickname had left your lips "fine, yeah good, you?" You lent against the wall "great thanks" you bit at your lip eyes darting across his face, his hair was longer his preffered style, he looked tired but you knew he'd be out in New York filming for a new movie, Helen sometimes couldn't help but mention him. "does he treat you right?" Cillian couldn't help himself, he needed to ask. You let out a small laugh "He does thank you for the concern, but really you didn't exactly treat me right towards the end"

He deserved that he knew he did but it didn't hurt any less "You never let me apologise for that" You simply rolled your eyes "I loved you. And I don't think I could ever forget you. Had things never gone south, I'd— I would've grown old with you. I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore" you pushed away from the wall, heading back out into the garden. Cillian watched you go, watched as Joe greeted you half way back to the table, concern on his face, he watched as you reassured him, kissing him hand squeezing at his arm, he knew that touch he knew how that felt and he had to try his hardest to hold back his emotions as you turned to look right at him, giving him a small smile before taking your seat again. Cillian made his way to his own seat, next to Finn and Sophie who turned to include him in the conversation, his heart pounding at the fact he really had lost you now, and he only had himself to blame. *** Taglist. @queenshelby @cloudofdisney @janelongxox @datewithgianni @elenavampire21 @magicalpieex

#Cillian Murphy #Cillian x fem!reader #Cillian one shot #my writing #my writing prompts #whewwww ok this broke my heart writing it #Joe Cole x Fem!Reader #prompt list #fic request #Joe Cole #im going to need to lay down and sob #i cant think of Cillian breaking my heart #any longer #Break

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mvrtaiswriting · 4 years ago

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We were 18. - Jotaro Kujo.

Me?? Posting something about Jotaro?? How strange. This piece of work is also dedicated to two of my comfort characters, Kakyoin and Joseph. This artwork is really important to me, it really holds a special place in my heart so.. enjoy!

Neutral reader x Jotaro Kujo

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Stardust Crusaders (spoilers)

SFW | fluff

Trigger warning: usual jojo violence, reference to grief, insomnia.

Word count: 1760.

The ‘continue reading’ button is there for space purposes, to make the reader avoid any possible spoiler and/or sensible topics.

Hi! Are you a new reader? Check my masterlist for more content!

Please feel free to reblog or leave a comment :) help me support my art (it’s free!),

Since you returned from your tumultuous trip in Egypt, your life has never been the same. Once you came back to your hometown, not a moment passed by when you didn’t remember the terrible scenes you’ve witnessed during the fight with Dio. The memory of Kakyoin’s death was still so vivid in your mind and the more you tried to shake that thought out of your head, the more you kept reliving it – over and over again.

There were times when you swore you saw Kakyoin among a crowd of people; times when you could just hear his voice calling your name. Every time you closed your eyes Avdol, Kakyoin and Iggy were there. You barely slept anymore – most of the times you did so, you had nightmares about what happened in El Cairo. You lost count of how many nights you have spent crying in your bed, curled up in between your sheets in the silence of your lonely house. Living alone didn’t help; you were used to sneak into one of the crusaders’ room whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on or, simply, a place where you could feel safe. It wasn’t unusual for you to wake up squished between Kakyoin and Jotaro or trapped in one of Joseph bear-hugs. But now, you were thousands of kilometres away from the rest of the group, alone in your cold bedroom. There was no one to go to, and no one you could talk about how you felt. It was just you and your painful memories. No one would understand what you’ve been through – how could they? How could you ever explain how intense the 50 days you spent with the crusaders had been?

Another nightmare woke you up, as per usual. You gasped loudly as if you just started to breathe again after a long apnea and quickly sat down in the middle of your bed, holding onto your sheet. You started shaking as your chest moved up and down with rapid movements trying to catch your breath, tears streaming down your face. You were staring at the void in your pitch-dark room, trying to control your sobs and make yourself realise that you were back to reality. You stretched one of your arms to reach the lamp on your bedside table, curling yourself up while you slowly started to calm down. Wiping out the tears from your cheeks with your jumper’s sleeve, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and slowly went to the kitchen, making yourself some tea.

As you sat down to drink your hot beverage hoping it would bring you some comfort, you started to rehearse your dream - as if you could just replay it in your head as one would normally do with songs or movies. It wasn’t very different from any other dreams you had.

Kakyoin’s body was lying lifeless against the roof Dio had thrown him onto, his expression crippled by the excruciating pain he must have felt. An enormous wound had completely swept away part of his body, leaving a big opening in the middle of it. You were screaming at him at the top of your lungs, begging him to spare the last bit of energy he had left in his body. But the ending was the same every damn time; he would use his last breath to reveal to Joseph the secret of The world, Dio’s Stand, and launch his last attack with Emerald Splash. You woke up every time you tried to reach Kakyoin’s body. You were never able to say goodbye to him - not even in your dreams. The same thing happened with Avdol and Iggy too. You never got the chance to see them one last time, because you were busy fighting elsewhere.

You sighed loudly, stopping yourself from having another breakdown and sipping some tea from your cup. It was in that exact moment, that the phone rang. It was 3:00 AM where you lived, so you expected one of the boys to be on the other end of the telephone. You and the rest of the crusaders exchanged your numbers the last time you saw each other at the airport and had kept in contact ever since. To your surprise, the person you talked the most was Jotaro. You were about the same age and had created a strong bond during your trip, even if you would have never bet on it. Kakyoin used to always joke about your crush on Jotaro, always encouraging you to give it a shot. But things turned out to be too frenetic and dangerous to engage any sort of romantic relationship. Despite that, you would never miss a chance to sit next to each other or just spend most of the time together. The two of you even kissed at one point, but never talked about it again – not even during your strangely long phone calls.

Crawling your feet on the floor of your kitchen, you got up and finally answered the phone: “Hello?”

“Hey.” Jotaro’s deep voice replied. “How come you’re awake? It’s late where you are.” he added.

“You called. Is this a good excuse?” you said lightly laughing, trying to hide the sadness in your voice.

When the sun rose, you were still talking to Jotaro. He asked you about your dream – he knew about your insomnia and your recurring nightmares and just wanted to be there for you. He wasn’t the best at comforting, and most of the time he never dared to say a word; but you knew it was a sensible topic for him too, and the fact that he would let you confide in him was more than enough.

“It’s a big deal for me too.” he said. You just hummed, allowing him to talk freely about what was going on inside his head – and heart. “Sometimes I can barely breathe. I just wish everything was over.” he cut short, clearing his throat immediately after finishing his sentence. Hearing those words from him just broke your heart; he always showed himself as a cold, calm and collected person and never allowed his emotions to have the best of him. He could often come off as an emotionless brute, but you knew it was all a façade that hid a more sensible and soft side of him. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, only broken by the sound of your breaths. “Don’t hang up.” you said ultimately, letting out a big sigh.

“I won’t. I’m here.” His voice replied, sounding velvet through the telephone.

The plane landed after what felt like an eternity, the flight from your country took countless hours to arrive in Japan. At the airport, a member of the Speedwagon foundation was waiting for you, Holly standing next to him. As soon as you got closer to them, Holly quickly fell into your arms, hugging you tightly. ‘I’m so glad you’re here!’ she squeaked, while cupping your cheeks in her hands and showering you with affection. You let out an embarrassed laugh, and after that warm welcome you finally reached the car. You seated in the backseat, tiredly resting your head against the window of your car’s door. You took a quick look at the clock and closed your eyes, trying to get some rest.

When you arrived, Holly gently woke you up. The car was parked in front of the Kujo’s residence, the place where it all started. A fast sequence of memories flashed in front of your eyes as you meticulously watched the house in front of you, remembering exactly how you felt when you arrived the first time, and how you felt when you left. Holly placed and hand on your shoulder and nodded, indicating to you Jotaro’s room. “He wasn’t in a great mood today, he hasn’t been in a while” she said hopelessly. “Just excuse him if he speaks to you rudely.” she added, feeling sorry for the harsh manners her son always displayed. You reassured her smiling, before walking to his room.

Once you stood in front of his door, your heart started beating so loud. A part of you was dying to see the boy you heart belonged to, the other was afraid to see him broken into pieces. But that was the reason why you went there in the first place. You didn’t want to leave him alone anymore. He needed a shoulder to cry on as much as you did – maybe more, if it was possible. You had to be there.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. Heavy footsteps came your way before the door opened, revealing Jotaro’s figure towering over you.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing he-“ he tried to ask, before getting interrupted by your hug; you almost pushed yourself against his body, making him take a step back to not lose balance. You wrapped your arms around his strong torso, breathing in his perfume and holding him as close as humanly possible to you. Being in his arms felt like being at home – a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. It wasn’t long before Jotaro reciprocated your hug, hiding his face into your hair and leaving a soft kiss on your head. He closed the door behind you and just held you in his embrace, enjoying the wonderful feeling of being reunited with you. “You don’t know how much I missed you.” he said, not even trying to let you go. You hinted a small laugh, rubbing his muscled back with your right hand. “I can imagine.”, you replied. He slowly distanced himself from you, placing his hands over your cheeks, staring at you with his eyes full of tears. He was scanning every inch of your face and figure, almost as if he wanted to convince himself that you were real, that you were there. He rested his forehead on yours, locking his gaze on yours, making it impossible to break eye contact. “I don’t want to lose you anymore” you whispered. “You saved my life so many times, in so many ways. I always thought it was the wrong time, I always ran away from my feelings but..” you continued, but before you could finish your sentence, he quickly put his lips on yours – shutting you up with a kiss. You could feel tears running on his face. You grabbed the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer to you, reciprocating the kiss.

“I have loved you since we were 18.” he whispered.

227 notes · View notes

peter-parcoeur · 4 years ago

Text

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“ Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower. Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house. The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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

You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland #frat!tom #enemies to lover #tom holland x reader

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jayeray-hq · 4 years ago

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How He Shows You Affection: Kuroo Tetsurou

This one honestly really sucks to have to re-post because it did have a lot of notes thanks to the amazing people on Haikyuu Headquarters who helped me out. However I do want it to show up in the tags so here we are. 😢😢😢 Notes: 120

Post Time Skip/Manga Spoilers!

Warnings: Slight groping, very slight implied NSFW

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Fusses Over You

“Tetsurou?!” you asked more than a little shocked to see your boyfriend standing on your doorstep. You hadn’t expected him to come over, and you frantically wracked your brain trying to figure out if you’d forgotten something or maybe missed a message somewhere, but you were almost sure you hadn’t, “What are you doing here?”

“Aww Kitten, you make it sound like you’re not happy to see me,” he told you a teasing smile on his face, “You going to let me in?”

“Of course, I’m happy to see you,” you told him taking a step back to let him in, “I just wasn’t expecting you.”

Which was true. You’d specifically told him earlier that you’d be busy all day, working on a project, so you’d actually expected the opposite, that you wouldn’t get to see him until tomorrow.

“I know,” he told you sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed you from beneath his bangs, “But I was in the area, thought I’d stop by and see if you’d eaten yet? I brought food.”

He held up the bag he had in one of his hands that you’d failed to notice, holding it out to you like a peace offering. You immediately noticed the logo on the bag was from one of your favorite take out places, and your heart stomach immediately rumbled eagerly, making you blush. You’d gotten so caught up in your project that you hadn’t actually stopped to eat and were only just belatedly realizing that you were starving.

“I’ll take that as a no you haven’t,” your boyfriend told you a slightly scolding tone to his voice that made you rather sheepish in turn, “Come on kitten let’s get you fed.”

You conceded with good grace, and the two of you went to the kitchen. You were even hungrier than you’d initially thought and eagerly dug into your food as your boyfriend watched on, looking half amused, half exasperated.

“You really need to learn to take breaks,” he told you a concerned frown on his face, “Or at least eat snacks. Going without eating for so long lowers your blood sugar and makes it harder for you to concentrate so it’s better to stop and eat.”

“You’re one to talk,” you told him amused.

“Hey I may not take breaks, but I have mastered the art of eating and working at the same time,” he defended with a grin.

“Tell that to the report you dripped ramen broth all over,” you sassed back.

“That was one time,” he protested.

“Crumbs in my couch,” you listed off on your fingers, unable to resist teasing him, “barbeque sauce on your shirt, rice on the floor.”

“Okay, okay more than once,” he admitted wryly, “But at least I can say I actually eat!”

You huffed but couldn’t argue with that. He was actually pretty good about his meals, and usually kept an enormous bottle of water and a thermos of tea around too whenever he had long projects.

“Have a glass of water too,” he told you standing walking to the sink to fetch you just that, clearly reading your mind, “It’s important to keep hydrated!”

You indulged him, drinking the water he offered and finishing your food all under his watchful eye. Once you’d finished eating he helped you clean up quickly, and paused one last time by the door.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he told you cupping your cheeks in his palms and affectionately running his thumbs over your cheekbones, “Get at least seven hours of sleep.”

“I’ll do my best,” you assured him amused and feeling extremely warm and loved from his clear concern for you, moving to press your lips to his in a quick kiss goodbye, a gesture he eagerly accepted, holding you close for several long minutes before reluctantly drawing apart.

“Keep drinking water,” he insisted as he pulled his shoes on, “Or tea. Call me if you need anything. I’ll keep my phone close.”

“Okay Tetsu,” you agreed indulgently as you gently shooed him out the door, “I will.”

“Okay,” he agreed, “Text me goodnight will you, so I know you actually went to bed?”

“I will,” you assured him again, letting out a huff of amusement, “Really Tetsu you worry too much.”

“Only for you kitten,” he retorted with a grin, the same one that never failed to make your heart melt.

“Yeah, yeah,” you told him, though the soft smile on your face undoubtedly gave away your real feelings about the matter

“I love you,” he told you seriously, pausing in his trip out the door so he could look you in the eye as he said it.

“I love you too,” you returned, giving him one last quick kiss goodbye, unable to resist stealing another, “I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

“Alright,” he agreed, clearly still a little reluctant, though he did leave in the end. You immediately turned to get back to work on your project, feeling incredibly warm, full, well rested, and ready to get back to work. More importantly you felt absolutely loved, and you made a mental note to return the favor sometime soon, for your amazingly sweet boyfriend.

<b>He Teases You (and Secretly Loves if You Tease Back)</b>

“Having trouble there kitten?” your boyfriend asked startling so much you nearly fell over, flopping down on to the couch with an unhappy pout on your lips. You’d been trying to move the extremely heavy piece of furniture for over five minutes now and were on the verge of giving up. You’d been so engrossed in your task that you hadn’t even heard your boyfriend come home from work.

When you glanced up at him he was leaned against the doorway, still in his suit jacket from work, though his tie was loose around his neck, and his arms were folded across his chest. He had an extremely amused look on your face that told you he’d probably been watching you for a while.

You didn’t bother to answer his question, considering it had a very obvious answer, and you knew any response out of your mouth was bound to get you teased so you chose to say nothing at all. Not that, that stopped his smile from stretching even wider across his mouth, apparently well aware of your tactics and highly amused by them.

“What are you trying to move the couch for anyway?” he asked curiously.

“I dropped one of my earrings,” you admitted with a sigh, figuring there was no point in hiding it from him, especially since you were doubtless going to need his help to get it, “And I can’t reach it.”

“Oya? That is a problem,” Kuroo told you with a mischievous smile on his face, “If only there was a strong, handsome gentleman around to help you with that.”

“If only,” you lamented, not about to let him get away with teasing you completely, “Do you think Yaku would come over if I asked?”

“Yaku?” Kuroo sputtered the teasing smile falling off his face replaced with indignation, “You’d call Yaku for help?”

“Oh how about Lev!” you proposed unable to help your own wide impish smile, “Lev would help me if I asked I’m sure of it!”

“Lev?” he repeated incensed, “Lev wouldn’t help kitten, he’d probably trip over the couch or break it!”

You couldn’t hold in your giggles at that earning a huff from your boyfriend who informed you, “You’re a cruel kitten, teasing me this way.”

“It’s your fault,” you informed him faux haughtily sticking your nose in the air, “You should’ve just helped me instead of teasing me.”

“Alright, budge up then kitten, let’s get your earring,” he told you straightening up, and pulling off his suit jacket an amused smirk on his face.

You did as he asked, watching with a slight pout as he easily scooted the couch away to reveal your missing earring. However you didn’t move to grab it right away slightly distracted by the flex of his shoulders beneath the white button up he was wearing, which was incredibly enticing.

“See something you like?” he asked pulling you away from your ogling a proud smirk on his lips, that told you he knew exactly what you’d been doing.

“Mm, always Tetsu,” you assured him, knowing that sometimes the best way to deal with his teasing was with complete and utter sincerity, letting your hand caress his back as you moved to grab your earring, and feeling rather cheeky let it slip lower to give him a firm squeeze earning a surprised inhale from your boyfriend.

You smiled triumphantly as you backed away, inspecting the recovered bit of jewelry pleased to have it back in your possession and to find it hadn’t suffered for its brief time under the couch.

However, you nearly dropped it again as you were abruptly scooped off your feet and dumped on to the couch, making you yelp in surprise, an amused grin touching your lips as you saw your boyfriend hovering over you.

“You shouldn’t tease me like that kitten,” he scolded lightly, his eyes alight with affection and desire.

“Oh?” you teased, well aware that you were pushing his buttons, “What are you going to do about it Tetsu?”

Needless to say you lost the earring again and had to make your boyfriend move the couch again later to retrieve it as he showed you exactly what he meant to do about it.

<b>He Always Has to be Touching You</b>

“Hey everyone,” you greeted cheerfully, as you and your boyfriend slid into the seats that had been saved for the two of you at the monthly gathering of his former volleyball team.

The group returned your greetings, all of them well used to your presence by now, as you’d been attending them for over a year now. The minute the two of you were settled in your seats Kuroo had his arm thrown over the back of yours, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, absently playing with your shirt collar and gently rubbing your shoulder as the two of you caught up with the rest of the group.

You talked quietly with Kenma about his latest stream, and how his business had been doing, leaning over to watch the new game he was playing on his phone. The instant you were no longer in contact with the hand he’d had on your shoulder Kuroo’s arm shifted to keep touching you his hand finding the back of your neck, thumb gently playing with the small hairs there and gently massaging every now and then.

When your food came he removed his arm, apparently not even noticing as he absently set his palm on your thigh under the table, while the group listened to Kai tell them about his new store where he’d be selling plants and flowers, which had been his dream for a long time now.

Throughout the reunion he never really took his hands off of you absently holding your hand, brushing his arm up against yours, pressing your thighs together under the table, nothing too big or noticeable, but constant and reassuring.

“The two of you are really disgusting you know,” Yaku informed you suddenly, surprising you.

“Disgusting?” you repeated more than a bit baffled by this abrupt turn in conversation.

“It’s gross how absolutely cutesy you act,” he expanded rolling his eyes.

“Cutesy?” you asked turning your gaze to your boyfriend who looked partially amused, partially confused, apparently not sure what Yaku was talking about either.

“Don’t be jealous Yaku,” Kuroo told his friend faux brightly, never missing a chance to needle him despite his confusion, “I’m sure you won’t be sad and single forever. There has to be someone out there who will have you.”

It was more than enough to set the libero off, informing Kuroo that he was more than capable of getting a partner of his own if he wanted to, he just didn’t want to right now because of his thriving career. He honestly played right into Kuroo’s hands, as your boyfriend kept gleefully jabbing away at one of his favorite victims. Meanwhile you turned your gaze to someone far more sensible.

“Are we really disgusting?” you asked Kenma quietly, a little concerned.

“It’s fine,” he assured you firmly, eyes not leaving his phone as he answered your question, “It’s not like your PDA is any worse than any other couple’s, your just very consistent about it is all.”

“PDA?” you repeated baffled, your genuine confusion catching his attention his amber eyes flicking up to study yours intently for a moment before seemingly realizing your confusion was genuine.

“You’re always touching,” Kenma explained patiently, “Even now you’re touching, though I think it’s more Kuroo’s fault than yours. He reaches for you.”

You wanted to protest that you weren’t always touching, but then realized you couldn’t especially when even though he’d removed his hand from your thigh to gesture rather rudely at Yaku, he still had his own pressed to yours.

Curiously you scooted away so you weren’t touching anymore, moving closer to Kenma. However, seconds later he followed, not even seemingly to notice as he shifted closer to you, his attention never deviating from his conversation with Yaku. You did it again, with the same results, and again, and again. He always seemed to seek you out, though on the last one his hand had dropped to catch your own, twining his fingers through yours as if to keep you from moving further.

You let out a small huff of surprise and amusement, gently squeezing his hand in fondness, your heart feeling like it was about to melt at how surprisingly cute his actions were, especially if they really were automatic. The gesture caught your boyfriend’s attention and he broke off his conversation with Yaku to look at you, a slightly puzzled frown on his face.

“Everything alright kitten?” he asked, “Did you need something?”

“No,” you assured him with an affectionate smile, “I’m good, great even.”

“Oh?” he prompted, clearly curious, though he returned your smile with his own fond look, his eyes soft as he watched you.

“It’s nothing,” you told him with a grin, “You’re just really cute Tetsu.”

“That’s nice and all,” Kenma told you before your boyfriend had a chance to respond, cutting off what was no doubt going to be some kind of teasing remark, “But can you move? The two of you are squishing me.”

“Whoops, sorry Kenma,” you apologized unable to help the amused smile as you realized you’d basically been half sitting in the poor man’s lap in your quest to see Kuroo chase after you.

The former setter merely rolled his eyes in response, though you could see a hint of amusement on his face as you informed your boyfriend it was all his fault for squishing the two of you given that he was the biggest, while he protested rather vehemently, pouting at you the whole time, and claiming innocence.

Meanwhile you filed another thing you loved about your boyfriend away in your heart, feeling incredibly lucky to have him.

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starlightrows · 4 years ago

Text

The Lady of The House

Pairing: Boba Fett x fem reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings and Tags: swearing, not a lot of Boba reader interaction, mostly reader just asserting her position as queen

Summary: Two guards, my original characters Tems and Rhys, have been tasked with informing crime boss Boba of an intrusion... but there’s one problem. It’s the middle of the night and he’s currently with his wife sleeping.

AN: Happy Monday! This blog is getting a bouns fic today!

“I don’t wanna go in there Rhys...” Tems said shakily.

“The boss said he had to be informed immediately if someone was caught trying to break in to the palace, if the alarm on his ship ever tripped, or if the Mand’alor hailed him.... and all three happened over the course of 20 minutes. We have to tell him Tems!” Rhys waved off his patrol partners fretting and made for the handle on the large ornate door leading to Boba Fett’s private chambers “he will feed us to the rankor if we don’t go in there”

“Look, you’ve only worked here for three lunar cycles. You ever wonder why there was a job open?” Tems grabbed his arm, yanking him back. The Rhys narrowed his eyes, and gave a shake of his head. “You’re all happy to point out the rules the boss has about being informed. But what is the other, number one fucking rule he has?”

The realization struck him and his eyes went wide, he gave a silent “ohhh”

Boba Fett’s number one rule, mostly for his business partners, but also his staff: Do not disturb the lady of the house. Boba Fett’s wife.

An unassuming woman, she was kind and gentle, slightly out of place among dangerous and somewhat violent bounty hunters and crime families that frequented the upper halls. She spent most of her days working on fixing the lower levels of the run down palace. She kept to herself, with the notable exceptions of her husband and his loyal bodyguard, Fennec Shand. The rule seemed to be, if she spoke to you, answer respectfully and do as she asks. But if you bother her, get in her way, or insult her... there would be hell to pay.

“W-what happened to the last guy?” Rhys shifted nervously on his feet. He honestly hadn’t considered why there was a position available when he accepted the job.

“He barred the lady from entering the throne room when the boss had guests. He didn’t know the guests were there by her request, but that doesn’t make him any less dead right now” Tems told him, looking uncomfortable at the memory.

“Well we just won’t wake up the lady then” Rhys said “we’ll be really quiet. We’ll only wake up the boss, alright?”

Tems still wasn’t convinced “Do we both have to go in there?”

“You’re a fuckin’ coward,” Rhys threw up his hands in exasperation “every second we wait to go in there, the more angry he’ll be that we waited. I’m going in there, you can stand out here like a little bitch if you want to,”

Tems was tempted to throw a punch, this guy had no idea just how dangerous Boba Fett really is, or how scary he could be right after waking up. Nonetheless, he followed as his partner made for the door again.

The heavy door swung open silently, surprising given how massive it was. The room was dark, lit dimly by the silvery light of the moon coming through the small window high up on the wall. Against the far wall, was an enormous bed where both guards could see their employer sleeping soundly with his wife tucked securely to his bare chest.

Tems wanted to die. Every step he took deeper into these chambers felt like a step closer to a painful demise. While Rhys was excited, he had never seen any of the residential chambers of the palace. And this one was huge.

Rhys creeped up to Boba’s side of the bed, while Tems stood awkwardly by the entrance to the chambers. As Rhys approached, reaching out to shake the bosses shoulder, Tems seriously considered making a run for it. Rhys made contact, giving the large scarred shoulder a few good shakes.

“Sir?” Rhys attempted to whisper. Boba made no movement towards wakefulness, he just continued softly snoring.

Your eyes flew open and a fearful gasp left your body. You backed up, trying to put distance between yourself and the supposed intruder.

“Oh my god. No no no no. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry ma’am,” Rhys backed away, hands raised. Tems practically blacked out but stayed frozen in place.

I’m gonna fuckin die, and it’s all that idiots fault he thought

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and you recognized the young guard. You drew the covers up to cover yourself, you felt exposed in your thin nightgown.

“What are you doing here? These are private rooms” you whispered harshly

“I-I- I have orders,” Rhys stammered, knees knocking together in fear “To-to get the boss if” Rhys lost his voice. He could not seem to get the words to come out of his mouth

“Get out,” you whisper “Go back out there and do not move. I will be there shortly,”

Your tone was authoritative and stern, leaving no room for questioning. Rhys practically sprinted out of the room, dragging a paralyzed Tems with him. The door slammed shut behind them, making them both cringe.

Tems doubled over, placing his hands on his knees and heaving with labored breath. “Oh by the maker... we’re gonna die. We’re gonna fucking die. I’m gonna be sick. We’re gonna die”

Rhys was pacing back and forth, hands gripping and pulling his own hair. “Shit shit shit shit shit.... you were right. We’re gonna die,”

The large door swung open once more, and shut again firmly. Both men snapped their heads towards the direction of the sound of the door closing, awaiting the blaster blot that would surely end their lives. But it didn’t not come. Instead, there you stood, in a long robe tired securely about your waist, arms crossed over your chest.

“Alright, what’s all this about then?” You asked tiredly. Neither man spoke a word, staring blankly at you. You grew annoyed, and tapped your foot impatiently.

“Oh for heavens sake!” You exclaimed “He sleeps like the dead when he’s had a glass of wine before bed. He won’t be coming out here to throw you in the rankor pit anytime soon, but if one of you doesn’t speak up I most certainly will,”

“The Mand’alor hailed for the boss,” Tems said quickly.

“And the alarm on the bosses ship tripped,” Rhys choked out

“And a scavenger was caught at the southern entrance trying to get in,” Tems added. You blinked at them in surprise.

“That’s a lot of information to take in,” you said “Okay gentleman, first things first, has the scavenger been dealt with?”

“Yes,” Rhys piped up

“Yes ma’am,” Tems avoided your gaze, staring meekly at his own two feet.

“Lovely, and the ship. What tripped the alarm?” You asked, feeling slightly less angry by being awoken. If anything you felt a little bad for these two.

“We’re not sure ma’am. The guards in the landing bay couldn’t find anything wrong with the ship, and couldn’t find any intruders,” Rhys said, taking Tems’ cue to use a respectful title when speaking to you

“So then it can wait until morning for a follow up,” you noted “and the Mand’alor? Did he give a particular reason why he was hailing my husband?”

“No ma’am, but he said it was important,” Tems supplied

“Hmm, Djarin is a bit of a drama queen. But if he isn’t hailing repeatedly, or flying here himself, then I’m sure it can also wait until morning,” you mused. Rhys and Tems were visibly shaking with anxiety.

“Well, if that’s all settled then I would love to back to bed. Goodnight gentleman,” you said turning to go.

“My lady, I’m sorry” Rhys blurted out. You turned back to look at him.

“For doing your job?” You asked

“For disturbing you. For breaking the bosses cardinal rule,” he said “I should have listened to my partner. I shouldn’t have gone into your private chambers,”

“Your job is to follow the orders you have been given. Protect this palace. And report when circumstances deem it necessary, no matter the time of day,” you stated evenly “you’ve done well. And your loyalty will not go unnoticed by my husband,”

“Please don’t tell him,” Tems said “please don’t tell him it was us,”

You cocked an eyebrow at him “I won’t if you truly do not want me to, but tell me why,”

“My lady if the boss knew we came into your chambers, disrupted your sleep...” Tems shook his head “please don’t tell him my lady, I beg you”

You heart softened, you forget sometimes how truly frightening your husband could be. And these men were genuinely afraid of his wrath. You nod gently. “You have my word,”

“Gentleman,” you nodded quietly, slipping back through the door.

The with door now shut, a heavy silence settled over the palace. Tems still felt violently ill, and Rhys was quite sure the boss would kick down the door any second despite the reassurances of his wife.

“Rhys?” Tems said

“Yeah?”

“I fucking hate you,”

#Boba Fett x reader #Boba Fett #the mandalorian #Boba scares his own staff #Fennec Shand #Reader is a cute little badass #Boba definitely sleeps like the dead if he's had more than one drink #Boba loves his wife #OC's #OC Tems #OC Rhys #Tems is a goody two shoes #Rhys is pretty but dumb

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honeyxchoso · 4 years ago

Text

Promise (fuckboy!Satoru Gojo x reader) (college AU)

warnings: Gojo being a fuckboy who knows his effect on women all too well, MC's declining mental health implied

genre: angst? (sfw)

word count: 1.9k

“Please, just hear me out!” Gojo begged, face contorting into a desperate expression you knew all too well by now.

The scene is just like the numerous ones you’ve experienced in the past few months, all consequential to Satoru Gojo asking you out earlier that year. You should have known better. After all, you’ve been a witness of all of his intimate endeavours throughout high school. It was naive to assume that you would be spared of his promiscuous behaviour and that, somehow, this would be different.

“I promise you it won’t happen again!”

The exclamation just fell on deaf ears. That very promise, which he never fails to make in moments like these, has lost all meaning long ago. The sincerity fading more and more each time it was broken. These conversations, which once used to reduce you to tears, have now lost all meaning they once might have possessed.

All you know is the emptiness you feel resulting from your heart being shattered over and over again, your soul reduced to nothingness. You can no longer cry. You can no longer get mad. You are no longer surprised. Just a shell of the person you once were.

No longer are you even aware of your surroundings, lost in your own mind as Gojo spouted endless dubious apologies and false promises, all of which you’ve heard dozens of times before. How many times have you turned a blind eye so far? How many second chances have you given? How much longer will this go on? You do not know.

How did it come to this?

You and Satoru are first years in an honours programme at Jujutsu college, with you majoring in Biology and him in Physical engineering. Although you had known him since your first year of high school, you two have only gotten close in the summer leading up to your first year at college. During that summer, he’s managed to get closer to you than anyone ever has before. It really isn’t that difficult to imagine considering his flamboyant personality and stunning appearance.

Right now, you were at a cafe, waiting for Mr Perfect to show up for your weekly Math and Chem study session. You chuckle looking at a meme he just texted you. The lovely bastard is fashionably late per usual, but you are somehow never annoyed at that nasty habit of his. Five minutes of texting later, you feel a tap on your shoulder alerting you of Satoru’s arrival. Soon after the tap, you can feel his presence on the left side of your head.

“I think you can kiss heaven goodbye, as it must be a sin to look that good,” he proudly stated right next to you. You gazed to the side with widened eyes and your mouth slightly agape. It was just quick enough for you to catch a glimpse of those gorgeous sky blue eyes of his, mischievously peeking up at you from the pitch-black sunglasses the man always adorned. It truly was a sight to behold. To your great misfortune, however, it was gone as soon as it came, with him rising up to ruffle your hair a bit with his enormous hand before going to sit at the other end of your small table.

You focused on regaining your usual composure, as you’ve grown accustomed to his flirty persona during the summer while observing him picking up girls wherever you went. His sense of humour is just atrocious, but it eventually grew on you also. Despite his provocative behaviour and dirty humour implying he’s still very much immature for anything of the sort, you’ve started harbouring hope that one day, just maybe, he’ll give it a shot for you. Yes, as naive as it was, you couldn’t help but fall for the marvellous man sitting across from you.

You sighed at your inner turmoil and slightly irritably ran a hand through your hair. Satoru, of course, interpreted your reaction as you being annoyed at his borderline foul compliment and the thought elicited a deep, alluring chuckle from him. Slightly shaken from the beautiful sound, you plastered on a smile and looked at him, asking to begin your study session already since he was late again.

Two hours of studying later, you two were walking back to the student dorms on the other end of the campus site making small talk on your way.

“Argh! I hate this unit so much. Why do we have to memorise all the functional groups when it would be so much easier to just look them up in the data booklet during exams? It is so unnecessary!” you cried out, pouting while clenching your fists in exasperation. When Satoru didn’t respond, you relaxed your posture and turned to address him, only to blank out upon seeing the way he was staring at you.

He had a tender look on his face the likes of which you’ve never seen before. His lips formed into a small but genuine smile with his eyes relaxed as he just looked at you. You felt as though he was staring right into your soul. At this point, you both stopped walking instinctively and held your eyes locked wishing for the tender moment to last forever. Satoru was the first to speak up.

He called your name, not breaking eye contact. You just barely took notice of his voice, getting lost in his gorgeous blue eyes during your little moment just now. God, does your name sound good coming from his mouth. You barely had the common sense at this point to utter out a small “Hm?” and no notion whatsoever of what was yet to come.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

You were baffled. The person you’ve been crushing on for months now just asked you out. You. Little old insignificant you. Too startled to form a coherent response, you replied with the only concern you had. “Me?”

After all, you were a nobody. You’ve seen the women who talk to him on a daily basis. The perfect height, athletic, well-adorned in all sorts of jewellery and fancy clothes, makeup perfectly done and never a single strand of hair out of place - those were the type of women surrounding Satoru Gojo. Compared to them, you were the lowest of the low. Your face contorted into one of confusion before your eyes started tearing up. This must be a joke...

That was only in the few seconds leading up to Satoru bursting out in a tear-inducing laugh. This did well to break you out of your small trance, sobering up a little before becoming even more confused. He asked you out, and now he’s laughing about it? Is this man in his right senses? You don’t recall him having any alcoholic beverages at the cafe so it can’t be. He stopped laughing soon after and used the tip of his right-hand sleeve to wipe away his tears.

“Of course it’s you, silly! It’s 10pm. We’re the only ones here right now!” he exclaimed, giggling a bit throughout forming his sentence still. This only served to confuse you even more. It must be a joke, then.

“You’re joking,” you voiced your thoughts. At this, his formerly happy expression fell and formed into one of concern.

“How could I be?” he asked. Seeming genuinely concerned as to why you’d think that. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed an unusual frown. “How could I ever joke about something like that? You have no clue what you mean to me, Y/N.” You could tell from his expression that he was being sincere, making you falter. Your face seemed to be enough of a response for him to continue speaking.

“You are honestly the best person I have ever met. You are strong and independent despite everything life has thrown at you. You are smarter than anyone I know. You have an amazing sense of humour and are a great listener. You’ve always been there for me when I needed you most. Along with being a good person, you also make me a better person myself. You fulfil me. Without you, I feel my very existence would be meaningless.” All the while saying this, he hasn’t broken eye contact once. “So I will ask you once again, Y/N, will you go out with me?

Following that evening, the two of you were in a happy relationship.

So how did it turn into this?

You first noticed something was wrong when you saw him dancing really close with a girl at a college party. He had his left hand low on her waist and his other hand entangled in her hair, bringing her closer so he could lean into her neck. It was just an embrace, right? Perhaps she was his friend who needed comfort of some sort? These are the excuses you made for yourself at the time to console the slight pang of concern and betrayal felt upon witnessing that scene. You never confronted him about that. At the time, you told yourself that was because there was no issue to address but reflecting on that moment now, you know it was the fear of your suspicion being proven right that discouraged you from bringing it up.

This happened about an additional five or six times before you started acting a bit more adverse to Satoru’s usual affection. You would no longer initiate kisses and would become stiff in his embrace. It was mortifying to know he was behaving so naturally around you when you know he’s off with other women when he thinks you aren’t looking. Despite this, the relationship was maintained as your love for him didn’t falter.

After a while, his endeavours would cause arguments. He would argue the women were coming onto him, that he was drunk or anything of the sort, just to get out of the situation, and you would argue he was fully aware of his promiscuous behaviour. These arguments would always end in forgiveness and the movie would rewind yet again. That is what led you where you are now. Your forgiving nature backfired and your feelings for the man were constantly extorted.

Sometimes, enough is enough.

It is time to put a stop to this neverending loop your relationship has turned into.

“Stop,” Satoru was still pleading for forgiveness when you interrupted him mid-sentence. Your simple exclamation seemingly pausing time, as it was the first word you have uttered in this conversation so far. Gojo looked at you anxiously, hope evident in his eyes that you would forgive him. Oh, how you loved those eyes of his, full of deceit.

“I’ve had enough. I’ve given you far too many chances and have been disappointed every time without fail. It is time for both of us to admit to ourselves that this won’t work. Not the way it is now.”

Despite your calm exterior, your previously empty inside now felt a sharp, anxious pain. No one said it was going to be easy. While the fear of change is strong, you know this is the right thing to do. Fear can bring no actual harm, but this relationship has and will continue to do so if you don’t put a stop to it. It is time.

“Goodbye, Satoru Gojo.”

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #au #alternate universe #college au #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x you #gojo jujutsu kaisen

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bill-y · 4 years ago

Text

INURE

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part five: Click here, butters, elpacho, last meheecan.

Part six: You're here, dumb!

Part seven: Finally here!

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Peeta and I end up helping Haymitch to his compartment, the reek of vomit and alcohol wasn't exactly pleasant. Since we couldn't set him down the bed, we ended up hauling him to the bathtub, setting the shower on him.

Peeta gave me an odd look when I laughed awhile ago; there was no humour in the situation after all. Forming a good impression wasn't really on my agenda. "It's alright; I can take it from here," he said.

I nodded, "Okay," I nodded, putting my lips together. "Do you—need me to call those Capitol people?" I asked, stumbling over my words. My confidence seemed to have been drained at some point.

He shook his head "No, I don't want them," he responded. I nod for the last time and head to my own room, relieved that I don't have to wash putrid vomit off Haymitch's chest hair, or something. Though it would be the perfect "revenge" for the people working here, I get why he doesn't want to see them.

I wonder, why does he want to help such a wreck? Was he simply kind like the time he gave me bread? Or was he using this to gain Haymitch's favour? A feeling of nervousness bubbled up within me, a kind Peeta Mellark was way more dangerous than an unkind one. Not everyone in the district can afford to be kind, so kind people make such a mark on me.

I looked at the packet of cookies at the table beside the fancy bed—a lump formed in my throat. Kindness would've been nice, but not in this situation. I sighed, taking my attention to the window instead.

There stood a lonely yellow flower, a dandelion. It took me back to the schoolyard, all those years ago. My eyes had just left Peeta's bruised face when I saw that dandelion; hope rose within me that moment, I plucked it gently from the ground and hurried home. I grabbed a small, broken bucket and grabbed Nal's hand and headed to a meadow. It was filled with the same flowers.

It was the first moment where Nal smiled after our Father's death. He loved the way the flowers smelled and looked. However, he was quite upset because we had to eat them, with the rest of the bakery bread. My father loved his plants, maybe a bit too much.

I remember countless hours we spent in the woods looking for a specific type of plant, whether for eating or for medicine. He had me memorize them by heart, which took a couple of years because I got distracted halfway through.

The next day, we were off to school. I hung around the edge of the meadow after, contemplating whether I should jump the fence. My mother couldn't get a job, well, she didn't want to. She thought the whole District would shame her the moment she stepped out of our crumbling home. It made no sense to me; we had nothing to lose anymore.

Which is exactly why I went under the fence, retrieved the old, leather-bound daggers my father made from scraps and wood. It was pretty frail, but if you handle it carefully and throw it properly, it won't break—most of the time.

I didn't go beyond twenty yards that day; I didn't feel confident enough to go deeper, fearing I'd get lost in the forest. I took home a small rabbit that day, we hadn't had meat for months, so it honestly looked like a full course meal, like the one we were served in the tribute train.

My mother isn't the greatest cook, so she burnt a couple of bits, mainly the thighs. But it still filled us. The woods became my second home, escaping the sad atmosphere my mother gave off and the pressure the Peacekeepers would regularly make us feel.

The hunting started slow, but each time I went under, I went deeper. I stole eggs from nests, jumped from tree to tree and managed to shoot a squirrel or two down. I struggled with the fish; my father would always throw his dagger to the fish with little to no effort. Whenever I'd throw mine, it would miss. It took me a couple of times to figure out the water distorts my vision.

The plants were no effort; I knew which one to pick, which ones were poisonous. The signs of danger used to terrify me back to the fence until I gathered enough courage to climb the tall trees, then I stuck with it, not liking the feeling of being chased. The wild dogs would always leave me alone after a while.

On July 15th, I finally signed up for the tesserae, carrying the first batch of grains and oils in the same broken bucket I used to gather those dandelions. I patched it up with some scrap bark. On the 15th of every month, I would put my name once again. I still had to hunt; grains weren't enough. We still needed soap, milk, thread and many more things we used to have. I began to trade in the hob, learning how to hold my tongue in the process. My father used to trade there as well; he used to do all the talking while I watched, stayed silent.

And so I simply tossed the game I had to their tables. They caught on fairly quick; I'd only speak up when it came to bargaining or when I'd change what'd I'd buy. Or when I would insult wild dog soup. My father was a charismatic man, always able to persuade people to buy whatever. Not me, though, I was like a sore thumb. Painful, to talk to at least.

My mother wasn't very enthralled with the fact that I had been hunting, too much like my father, she said. That's when we argued, "Don't be stupid like your father!" she shouted. I remember my face contorting to anger, how my fists clenched as she continued to scream.

I finally exploded, "Why don't you go out and get a job if you don't want me hunting, then? You'd rather we starve?!" I said, slamming the table. "I won't die, I won't end up like father! I won't be Capitol's pig, neither was he!"

"But if you do die?" She argued back, tears flowing down her cheeks as she gripped both my shoulders. "I'm only thinking of you, Y/n!"

I scoffed, glaring at her, "If you're thinking of us so much, then why aren't you helping us?! If I don't die being accused of rebellion, then I'll die because of those stupid games because of you!"

"Don't blame me for this! It was your father's fault for being brash—" She reasoned, but I cut her off by pushing her off me. I stared at her as if she grew three heads. "They asked you," I whispered, "All you did was nod, you could've lied."

Her green eyes shook at my words, "Lie to the Peacekeepers? The Capitol? And get us killed as well?! I only what your father wanted,"

"They didn't have anything on father! It was your voice that gave it away! It's your fault that he's dead, now we're over here starving because you can't get over yourself—"

Then there was a sting on my cheek. She had slapped me. My eyes landed on a crying Kunal; guilt surged through me, so I ran. I ran to the woods and slept on top of a tree, humming a soft tune to the mockingjays next to me. They listened and sung back. I fell asleep to their lullaby, surprisingly, not falling off.

I found my hand on the same cheek my mother slapped that day. I was going to die the same way I said, how ironic. I won't be able to apologize or tell my mother I loved her anymore. A sigh left my lips as I continued to stare out the window.

I clenched my fists, punching the wall as my breath hitched. I let out a groan, holding the stinging part of my hand. I glared at the wall, grumbling under my breath before I decided to fall asleep, not wanting to think of my regrets and what I could've done. As I closed my eyes, I only hoped my dreams would be pleasant.

"Up! Up! Up! It's a big big day!"

Effie Trinket's voice awoke me from my dreamless slumber. I groaned, muttering profanities as she left my compartment. I tried to imagine what it was like in that stupid wig--- well--- head of hers, it made my head hurt.

I had fallen asleep in the green shirt, causing it to become wrinkled, the. Not that I cared, there will be some stylist stripping me anyways. I shuddered at the thought of Capitol people touching me, what a nightmare. My eyes landed on the packet of cookies on my bedside table. I decided to grab it.

I entered the dining compartment, still half-lidded and yawning. Effie Trinket brushes me with a cup of black coffee. She was muttering obscenities, probably because of Haymitch. Peeta held a roll, looking somewhat embarrassed "Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch said.

Peeta flashed me a smile, amused by how dishevelled I look. To be fair, I wasn't a morning person, I find waking up to be a tiring task. I rubbed my eyes, the packet of cookies still in my hands as I slid down the chair.

They served an enormous platter of food. I'd hate to admit it, but I was starving. So for the first time, I decided to stab it with the fork, not sure what to do with the cookies so I pocketed them. I figured I'd eat them much. . . much later.

I chewed slowly, glare on my face as my eyes struggled to remain open. I didn't even notice the orange juice next to me because of it. Peeta nudged me, handing me a cup of brown, rich liquid. It was quite warm. "They call it hot chocolate," he said. "It's quite good,"

My green eyes moved from him to the cup, then back to him. As if asking for permission. I sniffed, muttering a "thank you," before I took the cup from him. The moment the hot chocolate touched my lips I felt awake.

Not only was it hot, but it was also amazing. I've never tasted anything like this before. Coffee was a luxury, this I cannot even fathom. After I've drained my cup, I put it down and muster a sheepish smile. "Is there more?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Effie seemed to be excited by my sudden interest. "Glad you're finally appreciating the finer things," she quipped as another cup was passed to me. "Right," I responded, gripping the cup tightly.

I stopped eating when I felt somewhat full, only asking for more hot chocolate. Peeta is still eating, breaking off bits of roll and dipping them in his hot chocolate.

Haymitch hasn’t paid much attention to his platter, but he’s knocking back a glass of red juice that he keeps thinning with a clear liquid from a bottle. Judging by the fumes, it’s some kind of spirit. I don’t know Haymitch, but I’ve seen him often enough in the Hob, tossing handfuls of money on the counter of the woman who sells white liquor. He’ll be a mess again by the time we reach the Capitol.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice," I said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He grinned, "Here's some advice, stay alive," then he burst out laughing.

My brows furrowed, "Ha. Ha." I let out, unamused. I glanced to Peeta, surprised to see Hardness in his eyes. Usually, he looked mild. "That's very funny," he said as if adding to my remark. He suddenly lashed out at the glass in Haymitch's hands. It shattered, spilling the blood-red liquid on the floor. "Only not to us,"

Haymitch took this opportunity to punch Peeta straight in the jaw, knocking the boy out of his chair before turning around to reach for more spirits. I stopped him, driving a knife into the table, between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers.

I expected some sort of retaliation, but that didn't come. "Oh, well what is this?" he said. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta rose from the floor and scoops up a handful of ice from under the fruit tureen. He started to raise it to the red mark on his jaw.

"No," Haymitch stopped him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you’ve mixed it up with another tribute before you’ve even made it to the arena."

"That’s against the rules," said Peeta. "Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren’t caught, even better," said Haymitch. He turns to me. “Can you hit anything other than the table?"

I shrugged, pulling the knife off the table. "Your head or. . ." I said, before tossing the knife in between the seams of two panels. If I was confident at one thing, it's my aim. But not so much with a bow.

"Stand over here. Both of you," ordered Haymitch, nodding to the middle of the room. We obey and he circles us, prodding us like animals at times, checking our muscles, examining our faces. “Well, you’re not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you’ll be attractive enough.”

Peeta and I don’t question this. The Hunger Games aren’t a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull more sponsors. Though I do enjoy the fact that the stylists are likely going to have a hard time styling me.

"All right, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t interfere with my drinking, and I’ll stay sober enough to help you," said Haymitch. "But you have to do everything I say,"

Of course, there's a catch. "Fine," Peeta said while I shrugged carelessly, sipping on my hot chocolate. "In a few minutes, we’ll be pulling into the station. You’ll be put in the hands of your stylists. You’re not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don’t resist," Instructed Haymitch

Oh, well there goes my plan on being a general nuisance. Damn you, Haymitch.

He takes the bottle of spirits from the table and leaves the car. As the door swings shut behind him, the car goes dark. There are still a few lights inside, but outside it’s as if night has fallen again. I realize we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It is almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to my being a tribute today. Since the rebels had to scale the mountains made them easy targets for the Capitol's air forces.

Peeta and I stood in silence. My finger raised, mouth opening but I decided it wasn't worth it and awkwardly shuffled to one of the windows. He seemed to have caught on, however. "Nice view, isn't it?" he joked.

"I guess if you're blind," I answered dryly, raising the warm cup to my lips. "Sophisticated darkness, my favourite type," I finished.

He chuckled, walking next to me, the train slowing on cue. My muscles tensed as the sunlight entered the compartment. It was blinding. After my eyes adjusted I finally saw the Capitol.

I would be lying if I said it wasn't beautiful. Rainbow hued buildings that tower to the sky, possibly beyond. Shiny cars rolling on the fancy, clean pavement streets. The cameras failed to capture its beauty. It would've been perfect if not for the fact that the oddly dressed colours, wearing blizzard wigs and painted faces exist.

They looked painfully artificial. I much prefer the natural tones of district 12. "Eugh, how do they look at themselves?" I muttered, catching the attention of Peeta, who chuckled at my comment.

Huh, I forgot that he was there.

The same disgusting people began to point at us, enthralled. I was sickened, they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other like wild wolves. I suppose that's better than ending up at soup.

I stepped back, a scowl on my face. No longer able to stand the obnoxious attires and the mocking smiles of scums. Peeta held his ground, smiling and waving at them.

He only stopped when the train stopped at the station, blocking up from their view. "Who knows?" he said. "Some of them may be rich."

My body seemed to freeze as I took one last sip of the now-luke warm hot chocolate. That's when I realized, I had misjudged him. Not that I can read people well.

Which made sense, if I could I would've known that his father visiting me, offering to help Haymitch only to challenge him and now, waving and smiling at those slugs. He had a plan in mind.

He hasn't accepted his death yet. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread was fighting hard.

And that terrified me.

word count: 2.8k

Hey guys! sorry for the long wait! Had to take a break!

tags;

@nin3s

#hunger games x reader #hunger games #hunger games x male reader #male reader insert #male reader #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #x male reader #peetamellark #gale #male x male reader #male reader series #gay #mlm #mlm fanfic

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lightsaroundyourvanity · 4 years ago

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Bumbleby Big Bang: Nov 18-22

it’s been a crazy two weeks guys but sadly.......... the bumbleby big bang has come to an end (for 2020 at least!!) -- and WHEW. what an incredible ride. you guys have blown me away with your talent, with your enthusiasm, with your hearts. I never expected this little event to grow so big and so beautiful and like. wow. rock stars, every one of you. I can’t wait for next year!! 💕💕💕

Nov 6-9: Here

Nov 10-13: Here

Nov 14-17: Here

The Festival of Fauna

fic by @dazzleyourmindseye

art by @askjar

Eager to share a piece of her culture with her team, Blake invites Yang, Ruby and Weiss to a festival on Menagerie - a night of dancing, bonfires, and celebration of faunus heritage. Afraid of moving too fast and fracturing their newfound romantic relationship, Yang has been struggling to reign in her intense feelings for Blake – both physical and emotional. Blake is unsure of how to help her girlfriend loosen up – but a night of romance by the sea and under the stars just might do it.

By The Stars

fic by @letsseethroughdaphneblue

art by @m-lahulia

Everyone’s looking for something on the Remnant Cross-Continental Trail. Hiking from one end of Sanus to the other is no small feat. Most seek adventure, some go looking for themselves. Blake knows she’s looking for the latter, while Yang has convinced herself adventure is all she’s after. Over what feels like the longest and shortest months of their lives they confront past demons and admit to harsh truths. They start to find themselves in the trail and in each other along the way.

Dance Partners

fic by @ginalcelah

art by triggerman_art

My entry for the 2020 Bumbleby Big Bang! A canon-compliant "what if," set in Volume 7 and following Yang and Blake as they make the jump into their first date. It's a long night as they dance around accepting their love for each other, while their friends all reflect on how far they've come...and how far they may yet go.

While this is a stand alone piece, I also intentionally wrote parts of it to call back to an older Bumbleby fic of mine. I won't drop the story name, but if you've read it, then maybe this will read as somewhat of a sequel. If you haven't read it, don't worry! I specifically made sure this story stands on its own.

Flight

fic by @pugoata

art by @sunnyteea

art by @6iirls

AU: Blake is disillusioned: with her career in the White Fang Ballet, with her oppressive boyfriend and ballet master, and her life in general. A chance visit to the Shattered Moon Circus, however, introduces her to trapeze artist and aerial dancer Yang, who offers to teach Blake how to fly. As she learns to let go and trust in the people who catch her, she falls in more ways than one when it comes to Yang.

“Blake,” Sienna says, calmly. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

And maybe she has. After all, Blake can't just run away and join the circus.

Immolate My Devotion

fic by @sleebyswords

art by @celestialstariart

As the daughter of a Count to a nation of Faunus citizens, Blake Belladonna has to deal with blurry memories from a past life and finding an arranged marriage to protect her people from harm as their country’s King has been violently replaced and they are swept into an empire against their will.

Yang Xiao Long appears to be the only option Blake has left, but there’s something about her inky black hair and ferocious red eyes that seem unnatural on her. Yang is feared by almost everyone, but the more Blake learns about her new wife, the more familiar she becomes.

And why does Blake dream of golden hair and lavender eyes?

when i dream of dying i never feel so loved

fic by @thecousinsdangereux

art by @saigamiproject

Yang dies. She wakes up. She fights. She dies. The world stays the same, the situations barely change. Yang wakes up, she fights, she dies. She also falls in love — one repeated day at a time — with the one woman on Remnant who could possibly understand, even if her memories of Yang are erased with each reset. (Yang gets used to the dying, not so much the look in Blake’s eyes that marks her as a stranger.)

take it from your grave

fic by @twelveclara

art by @corvophobia

I’ll never leave you, even if it’s me. Yang makes a promise in spite of fate; fate makes her regret it.

Eight teenagers run away from home, bound by a duty to return for a ritual in which one of their lives will be traded for the rest of the world’s peace. At least, that’s what they’ve been led to believe since birth: Be strong, be smart, and be alone. If you are to die, it is an honor.

Or maybe it’s a lie.

Eight teenagers run away from home, and upon returning nine years later, they’ve broken a few too many rules to go quietly.

(Blake thought she was seeing things, then. Thought she loved a girl so much she made her a god, mythologized her, created a folktale so gorgeous and enormous it’d surpass the one they actually lived in. Now she knows she wasn’t.)

Eternity

fic by ace_hlnwst

art by @generalxiaolong

Yang Xiao Long is a captain in Vale's army. King James Ironwood is sending her on a dangerous mission after discovery of Yang's betrayal. An immortal beast lays in wait for Yang as she attempts to rescue missing people from the kingdom, rumoured to have settled in the middle of the forest under no rule. The more Yang learns about Vale and King Ironwood, the more she wonders if the missing people had the right idea, immortal beast or no.

From The Heart

fic by @softlighter

art by @yourfriendlele

Yang Xiao Long has seen it all at Patchwork Bakery. Engagements, graduations, birthdays, she’s baked a cake for it all. At least until she gets an order to celebrate the breaking off of an engagement. When she delivers the cake to a certain Faunus, she has no idea how her life will be forever changed. But life isn’t a recipe to follow step by step, and sometimes life requires baking from the heart.

#bumbleby #bumbleby big bang

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rose7420 · 4 years ago

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Close Encounters

Hey!! For a story request, can you do one where Thor corners a tiny teen on the kitchen counter and Loki comes in because he hears Thor talking to someone? Once Loki sees that Thor is scaring a tiny mortal, his soft, protective side comes out and he pushes Thor away from the tiny and scoops them up, saying things to calm her down. Then Thor is kinda like “Well why do you get to hold her?” Thor goes to try and grab the tiny off of Loki, but Loki isn’t having it and starts fighting with Thor, all while the teen is clinging onto Loki’s shirt because she knows that Loki is protecting her. Loki just ends up teleporting to his room and apologizes to the teen for Thor’s actions and Loki can’t even get the teen to let go of her shirt cause she’s that scared😂🥺

This was a request from the talented @laurenandloki ! Hope you like it!

Y/N had super bad anxiety. Being a borrower she never had the proper amount of socialization and she always felt like an outsider when she would quietly observe humans from a distance. They never knew she was there, but it was nice to be in the company of another living creature. One that didn’t view her as food. She had only gotten caught spying once in her life, by none other than the God of Mischief himself. That was about a month ago and he had terrified her out of her wits when they first met, yet, she discovered he was a gentle person who cared immensely for others. However, she was still a borrower and he a human so there could be no sense of a friendship for them. And so she had retreated to live away on her own in the walls of the tower.

In the current moment she stood behind a container that held sugar, she would know since she had “borrowed” from it quite a few times. But today, she came needing other items that were a bit harder to retrieve. Magnets. It sounded bizarre, but they came in handy for scaling tall objects susceptible to the magnetic pull. Magnets were hard to get because they were stuck on the fridge(which was very tall), were half as big as her body, and extremely hard to pull off the fridge. She carried a coil of rope and a harness she had made herself and roped it around her body. Latching the hook attached to the end of the rope to the top of the fridge she, scaled down the side searching for a magnet that wouldn’t be missed. That was the thing about humans. When they lost something they blamed it on their own consciousness, not the doing of a two-inch tall chick who lived in the walls. She found the right one finally and made her way down to it. So focused in fact, that she didn’t even notice the vibrations of the gargantuan god of Thunder making his way to the fridge for his next snack of the day.

“What in the nine-realms are you little one?” A huge voice booms out, ringing Y/N’s ears and stilling her movements. She knows who it belongs to already, Thor. The god has a huge personality that matches his unwavering optimism. He is also very touchy as she has observed, which is why she is not at all prepared for what comes next. She forgets all about the magnet and tries to find a grip to haul herself up the fridge with.

“It’s not safe for you all the way up there, why it must be like a building up there.” Immediately, pressure is at her waist and enormous fingers lift her off the cool surface of the fridge. His powerful movements snap her rope, losing her only way of a safe escape.

His unshaven, but kind face fills her entire line of vision. The fingers still hold her waist and his eyes search her form intently. There are too many sensations around her and her mind is overwhelmed.

Breathing becomes difficult, her sight becomes a dark tunnel and lightheadedness is all she can feel. Thor is too busy filling his curiosity to notice the panic-attack she is currently having.

“Are you ill tiny one?” Thor questions but Y/N has not the mind to answer his question. Also believing that the answer is pretty obvious.

“Brother, what do you have there?” Thor swings around, facing the owner of the voice. The motion makes Y/N even sicker to her stomach. She however does recognize the person’s voice. Loki.

Suddenly she feels even dizzier, looking up she sees she is being passed around like a toy as Loki now has her in his grasp. She lays down on the surface of his palm relishing the feeling of having some sort of control over her body. Breathing becomes easier, not as if she is inhaling through a straw and her vision is no longer blurred as she can see clearly. She glances around at her surroundings and sees she is held up to a black, soft, and cotton wall. Loki’s chest. His breaths shift her up and down, yet, the movement is comforting. She finds herself fisting his shirt with her small hands trying to burrow her body further into his chest. A loud yell causes her to jump out of her skin and cling to Loki even tighter.

“Give her here brother, I am in no mood for your tricks!” Thor exclaims loudly, hurting Y/N’s ears.

“You were frightening her Thor. Just look at her.” The comforting darkness she was kept in for a brief amount of time vanished as Loki removes his other shielding hand to reveal her to Thor. Thor bends to her level looking her directly in the eyes. Anxiety spikes in her veins again sending an uncomfortable jolt of panic in her stomach and a tightness in her chest. She whimpers audibly and turns her face to Loki’s chest once again. Why must everything be so scary? She thinks to herself.

A soothing motion upon her back takes her out of her panicking thoughts. Her face leaves Loki’s shirt and sees that he is rubbing her back with a single finger. And that she had been transported to Loki’s bedroom.

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Loki couldn't stand seeing this small being panicking anymore. He remembered seeing the small one earlier before and letting her be, but today when she had been so vulnerable in front of his oaf for a brother, he couldn’t just stand by and watch. It was obvious that the small one was terror-struck by the presence of larger beings as himself. So he had teleported to his room to calm her down. Her entire body clung to his shirt like a lifeline and he had tried to pry her off his chest but she held strong, not willing to leave him just yet. He stopped trying to force her off him, afraid her tiny arms would break at his immense strength. Instead, he rubbed her back in soothing circles with the tip of his finger. He awed at the size difference. His entire finger dwarfed her body, it took not even a slight bend of his finger to caress her back. He shuddered at the fragility of this tiny being.

Not to mention she had put her trust in him to protect her from Thor. Even though he knew Thor was probably the only person on this earth that you would never need protection from because of his kind, generous heart. Sometimes his brother came off too strong to those he showed an intense interest with. And to this small girl, he would imagine the interaction between Thor and her would be very intense from her perspective.

Once the girl realized she was in no danger she slowly released herself from his person. He slowly raised her to his eye-level taking in the rare sight of an actual borrower. Loki had read about them in informational books on Asgard, there were not many factual books here on Earth, but they had plenty of fictional ones. From what he read, borrowers were on average around the height of three to four inches. But this girl seemed to be barely clearing two and a half. She was exceptionally small and this caused him to be even more cautious as he bore her in a palm.

She perched on her hands and knees, staring at him with big, round (Y/E/C) eyes. He had to practically bring her right on top of his nose to see her properly. He felt her anxiety rising under his close inspection and he lowered her down to his bedside table, kneeling to see her better. Awkwardness lingered at first but Loki broke the silence.

“Your exceptionally small, little one. What shall I call you?”

He watched her face scrunch up in anger, not responding to his question.

“Hmmm, let’s see… I can call you little one, of course, Thumbelina, Bite-Size, or-”

“Okay! Stop, just stop, call me Y/N.”She said with her arms crossed over her chest trying to be intimidating but failing.

“Y/N, what a delightful name. Are you alright now? I apologize for my brother’s actions.” Loki said being serious now.

Y/N nodded her head, “Y-yeah I’m okay now. I have really b-bad anxiety.” She admitted.

Loki smiled reassuringly, “I promise you to have nothing to fear from me or my brother.”

“Would you like me to assist you back to your quarters Y/N?”

“A-actually could I hang out with you for a little bit. I-I don’t really have many friends and I find your company...tolerable.” Y/N said with a bit of hesitation.

Loki laughed at her remark, “Just tolerable huh? Well, I must tell you that I find your company rather tolerable too Thumbelina.” He retorted with a smirk.

Y/N blushed and grinned, he offered a helpful palm to boost her to his shoulder.

“What should we do?” Loki asked.

“I don’t know, what do you have in mind?” Y/N asked, taking a comfortable seat where the dip in his collarbone lay.

Her little body tickled his neck and Loki laughed once again responding with, “I have a perfect idea,” with mischief coating his voice.

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Y/N watched with fascination as Loki illusioned a snake out of thin air. Snakes did terrify her as a borrower, but way up on Loki’s shoulder she had no fear of the serpent on the ground. Loki’s shoulder was pretty comfortable, she clung to his neck and could feel every movement that he made, and his voice thundered through her when he spoke even in a whisper. They were waiting for someone to walk and spot the snake. Finally, a passerby came, one she recognized to be Peter. As he walked he immediately spotted the snake and screamed loudly running away. Loki almost doubled over in laughter as did Y/N. He cupped her in his hands, holding her safely in his embrace. Y/N couldn't stop smiling for another reason. She had finally found a friend.

#gt loki #Loki #tiny reader #peter x borrower #Loki x borrower #loki x female reader #borrower #giant Loki #shrunk

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besanii · 4 years ago

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Hi! Am rereading your shattered mirrors verse and I love it so much. Are we going to get the scene in which WWX explains everything that’s happened to him (with the poison) etc to LWJ after they meet wen yuan?? I’m dying for the angst but also fluff and comfort 🥺🥺🥺

@lurkingscientist asked:

I can’t wait to hear about all the sad things wwx experienced!!! :D my “stabby stabby stab stab stab” is feeling slightly neglected

Shattered Mirrors #61

“I haven’t told you everything.”

In the thirteen years Wei Wuxian had been gone, Lan Wangji searched desperately for every scrap of information he could get his hands on, from every channel he could access, in hopes of finding him. Or finding out what had happened to him. What he could find was piecemeal at best and unreliable at worst, often conflicting depending on the source. The result was him, driven mad by desperation and grief, chasing ghosts in the shadows until he could no longer tell what was real.

Even now, with Wei Wuxian back at his side these last two years, happy and content and safe, he still does not have a clear picture of what had happened during the war. If he’s being honest, he’s afraid to ask, and even more afraid to know. He tells himself it’s enough just to have Wei Wuxian by his side again. He doesn’t need to know, if Wei Wuxian does not want to share.

So Wei Wuxian’s confession punches the air from his lungs and he feels in its wake, his hands trembling where they’re entwined. Wei Wuxian watches him with the same care one would give to a startled animal ready to flee.

“That is,” he amends hesitantly, “if you wish to know.”

Lan Wangji inhales, and exhales again, with a shudder. Squares his shoulders. Looks him in the eye.

“Yes,” he says. “I do.”

It is Wei Wuxian’s turn to take a deep breath, the tentative little smile on his lips giving way to steely resolve. On his other side, Wen Yuan kneels by the bed, wordlessly offering his unwavering support. Despite all this, it takes Wei Wuxian some time to find the right words to convey the enormity of what he is about to disclose.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he admits with a shaky laugh, looking down at their joined hands. “I suppose you already know how Yunmeng fell.”

Lan Wangji nods. He has heard scattered details, enough to know that there had been a traitor in their midst, someone who had fed false information through their intelligence network while Wei Wuxian had been in Gusu. They had managed to secure Yunping, but sustained heavy losses that severely weakened their defences. The traitor had been found, but by then the Qishan Wen army was already at their doorstep, ten thousand strong, and they had no way out.

“We evacuated as many civilians as we could. Jiang Cheng, Jiang-wang and Yu-wanghou stayed behind to defend the city,” he says. His eyes and voice are distant, lost in his memories. “I took Shijie and we escaped via the lakes, with the rest of the civilians. Our priority was to get to Yunping, and then to Lanling. Shijie was engaged to Jin Zixuan, so they would definitely come to our aid—or at the very least, they would keep her safe while I gathered reinforcements.

“They were there,” he continues, still in that far-off voice. “Wen Chao and his men. They had split their forces to ambush us while we were defenceless. Our boats were burned, our people drowned—we in Yunmeng are strong swimmers, but even the strongest swimmers cannot survive when arrows rain down from the sky.”

He shivers with his next breath, but his voice is steady.

“I entrusted Shijie to my lieutenant, instructed them to use one of the overturned boats to cover their escape, while I distracted Wen Chao.” He smiles, but it’s stark and without humour. “We’ve had…altercations in the past, so I knew I would be an adequate distraction. I held him off for as long as I could, kept his attention on me. But I was only one person, and he had an army.”

The reports that had come out of Yunmeng around that time—the ones Lan Xichen had allowed him to read while recovering from his punishment, at least—had painted a picture so bleak, so devastating that he had wept. The lakes of Yunmeng, once teeming with colour and life, stained red with blood over the course of one night; and Lotus Pier, its seat of power, that had once risen from the depths of the lakes like a mirage, burned to ash. He had been back to the ruins of Lotus Pier in the intervening years as it was slowly rebuilt after the war—Gusu had offered aid wherever possible, in both money and manpower, as well as political support for the Yu family of Meishan, the maiden family of Queen Yu Ziyuan, who had been installed as stewards in the absence of the ruling family—but the shadows of war still haunts its streets and darkens its waters even now.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall closed and his fingers tighten around Lan Wangji’s.

“There’s a stronghold in Yiling,” he says. “Some call it the Burial Mounds, or the Mass Grave. Beneath the fortress, there’s an extensive network of cells that run beneath the mountains. That’s where they keep their highest security prisoners, the ones who get…special treatment.”

There is no need to ask what ‘special’ means, so Lan Wangji stays silent. His blood, however, runs cold—as cold as Wei Wuxian’s voice as he continues his narrative, detached.

“Wen Chao had a special—” that word again, spoken with such venom that it curdles in Lan Wangji’s stomach and burns his throat, “cell prepared. More a cage, really. Every second shichen, it would be submerged in water up to the neck, and stay there for another shichen until it was raised again. In the interim, the prisoner would be left soaking wet in the cold, damp cell.”

The memory of Wei Wuxian at the water’s edge, the frantic terror on his face as he struggles to breathe despite not having come into contact with it, the frailty, the susceptibility to cold and illness—it is all starting to fall into place, one horrifying piece at a time. But Wei Wuxian is not finished.

“There were beatings, of course.” A sudden, fierce anger wraps around Lan Wangji’s heart at the matter-of-fact way in which he says it. “Wen Chao always did have a sadistic streak. He liked to hang people up by the arms and have them whipped, or burned, or flogged. Sometimes he’d leave them there for more than a day, weighed down at the ankles, blindfolded, while they tortured others around them.”

A hand extricates itself from Lan Wangji’s death grip and peels back the edge of a sleeve to reveal the scars along his arms. Dozens of them, some longer and thicker, others as thin and fine as thread, criss-cross along the pale flesh. As he traces quivering fingers along the skin, Lan Wangji feels each cut, each slice, on his heart. Then Wei Wuxian turns his hand over, revealing a large, pale scar on the inside of his wrist, and a matching on on the other, too precise to be self-inflicted. He inhales sharply in realisation.

“Your hands—” he chokes, eyes wide as he stares at the scars. “He didn’t—”

Wei Wuxian lets the sleeves fall back down to cover the scars.

“If you fight back,” he explains woodenly, “they cut the tendons in your wrists and ankles. They’ll send a doctor to look over your injuries, of course. There is no benefit, no value, in a dead prisoner of war. That’s how I met Wen Qing and her brother, Wen Ning.”

“My aunt and uncle,” Wen Yuan, who has been silent until now, explains. Lan Wangji had almost forgotten his presence. He smiles sadly. “They were taken by my great-uncle as hostages to ensure our branch of the family supported the war effort, and served as doctors on the front lines.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips curl into a smile—not the harsh, bitter ones from before, but softer, tinged with grief.

“They took care of me,” he says. “Wen Qing was the best doctor in all of Qishan. There was no illness she could not cure, no injury she could not fix. And Wen Ning…Wen Ning was the kindest person I have ever met. Too kind, too gentle for war. They did their best to help me—slipped me medicines and food whenever they could, diverted Wen Chao’s attentions away from me when it got too much.”

His voice wavers and breaks.

“They died trying to get me out,” he says hoarsely. “First Wen Ning, then Wen Qing. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything to save them—”

Lan Wangji gathers him into his arms, crushes him against his chest as he cries out in anguish, his body wracked with sobs. His own eyes are hot, and he sees Wen Yuan’s are also bright with unshed tears when their gazes meet over Wei Wuxian’s head. They stay like this until he quietens, curled in Lan Wangji’s embrace, eyes hollow and wrung out. Lan Wangji is about to suggest that they continue this another day when Wei Wuxian rouses himself with a shaky breath, and continues.

“They killed Wen Ning in front of me,” he says. “And then they forced Wen Qing to take the same deadly poison they had been using to experiment with on us—”

“Qianji poison,” Lan Wangji says before he can stop himself. Both Wen Yuan and Wei Wuxian turn to him in shock. He lowers his eyes. “You fell ill after your performance at Caiyun Pavilion,” he tells Wei Wuxian. “I had a physician brought in to see you.”

He is careful to leave out Mo Xuanyu and Madam Zhang’s involvement, but Wei Wuxian is not fooled. But rather than get angry, as they had feared, he only shakes his head and laughs.

“I should have guessed,” he says. “They always liked to make a fuss.”

“They care about you,” Lan Wangji chides him gently. “And I am glad they told me, so I was better prepared to take care of you like I promised.”

This time when Wei Wuxian turns into the cradle of his arms, it is out of exhaustion, as if a great weight has been lifted from his chest, and his eyes drift closed as Lan Wangji strokes his hair with gentle motions. There is still more to the story, Lan Wangji knows—and there are questions burning in his mind. But he feels the sag of Wei Wuxian’s body against his, the heaviness of his breath, and cannot bring himself to press him further. They have time. After a moment of silence, when Lan Wangji thinks him asleep, he stirs.

“I’m tired,” he murmurs. “So tired.”

“You’ve done well, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji reminds him. “Get some rest.”

Wen Yuan excuses himself as Wei Wuxian hums and nestles deeper into his arms. Lan Wangji nods at him gratefully and watches him leave, keeping his movements quiet so as to not disturb Wei Wuxian’s rest.

“I think I’ll close my eyes for a while,” Wei Wuxian agrees, his words already starting to slur. “I just need…a little break.”

Lan Wangji presses a light kiss on his forehead.

“Take all the time you need,” he says. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

master post in sidebar!

buy me a ko-fi: ko-fi.com/besanii

#dreamaholicsanonymous #lurkingscientist #asks #shattered mirrors fic #shattered mirrors au #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs #wangxian #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #prince!lwj #courtesan!wwx #🥢#🔪🔪🔪🔪#torture mention cw #my writing

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has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong · 4 years ago

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Let There Be Cake!!

In which an assortment of Mastersonas visit Seihai’s Chaldea for some tea.

Disclaimer: Err well this may be a very random representation of all the masters, but I hope you enjoy it. (lmao) This may be a bit ooc ;; don’t destroy me pls

Decorating the tables with napkins and cutlery; Mash, Gudako and Seihai helped prepare for today’s meeting.

“I can’t believe so many masters are coming to visit,” Gudako grinned, as she nudged Seihai in the ribs- her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re lucky that I managed to get people like Emiya to lend a hand with the cooking!”

Rubbing their side indignantly, Seihai grimaced. “Hey, don’t nudge me like that! And yeah, I’m grateful...I almost had a panic attack once I caught sight of the guest list.”

Seihai was struck with awe once they realized how many different Chaldeas existed concurrently amongst one another. All they had sent out was a measly little pager, yet it had managed to make a huge impact.

“...To think that parallel worlds really exist...I dunno what to say, really.”

“Haha, try seeing it this way instead- if we can even summon servants from mythological epics, then who’s to say that only one version of this world exists? For all you know, we may live in an entire realm of endless interdimensional universes!” Spreading her arms wide, Gudako reared back her head with laughter, as Seihai accidentally tripped over the table. “For all you know, there may be 100 Gudakos! And they probably all have a nice harem tucked under their sleeves, as well!”

Before Gudako could lapse into yet another one of her much-loved rambles, Da Vinci rushed towards the door of the canteen. “Yahoo! The guests are all here, Gudako, Mash, Seihai. I sure hope you’re prepared!” And with a wink, they were back out the door again.

“Senpai, I think that’s our cue to go now.” Mash cuts off Gudako’s resistance by wrapping her arms around them. “No, senpai. Let’s leave Seihai to deal with teatime today. Good luck, Seihai.”

“Thanks....” Seihai muffled a laugh when they caught sight of the flailing Gudako, who was passionately yelling “NO, I DON’T WANNA WAIT ‘TIL LATER! I WANT TEA NOW!”

‘Gudako sure is an interesting master...’ Taking a deep breath, they went to greet the guests gathering within the hallway.

As soon as Seihai turned the corner, a ginormous loaf of bread was thrust in their direction.

“GWAH!” Leaping back in surprise, Seihai almost tumbled to the ground, until another master with cool, black-lace boots helped them up.

It was Candace and Quin!

“S-sorry about that. You know...I saw your face, and the bread. Yes, well here’s some bread.” Candace smiled softly, as they passed their loaves to Seihai. “I wanted to pass a gift for today.”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you. This bread smells amazing...I feel like I’m in bread heaven...” Turning back to face Quin, Seihai grinned. “Thanks for the save there as well, Quin. You have great reflexes.”

“Ah, that’s nothing much! I just wanted to help, that’s all.” Quin smiles sweetly, as they peer at the bread. “Ooh, that does look tasty...”

“It’s bread courtesy of my own Olive Garden,” Candance’s eyes gleamed with pride; as Quin giggled softly.

“I’ve heard the tales of your Olive Garden as well. BB says that she’d like to make dragon steaks there someday.” As Quin cheerfully shared this, Seihai paled in terror.

‘BB? DRAGON STEAKS? SHE’S NOT GOING TO COOK LIZ AGAIN, IS SHE?’ Only Seihai worried about this, as Quin and Candace enjoyed a good conversation about all of the madcap shenanigans that occurred in the Olive Garden; as well as BB’s cooking skills.

Once Seihai lead them to their seats, they greeted the next group of visitors. There, was none other than Kiryu- with a shy Bunyan lurking by their side, as they held hands- and Julius, holding a rather interesting contraption.

“Nice to see you both,” Seihai waved. As they peered down at the trembling Bunyan, concern flickered across their features. “Is Bunyan okay?”

“She’s just a bit shy,” As Kiryu patted her head, Bunyan smiled brightly. “Hope you’ve got some good drinks and snacks for today.”

“Err...Well we have some tea and stuff....Hahahaha...” In fact, Seihai had no idea at all what was going to be served for tea. They had more or less left everything up to Emiya. “Yeah...”

“I’m looking forward to it too,” Julius unleashed a rather huge machine. “In order to celebrate, I enlisted the help of a few allies to make a ‘magical tea’ device.”

“Cool, what does it do?” Kiryu gave it a light tap.

“It can create tea; in any flavor you want.” Julius explained excitedly. “And by any flavor, I mean any.”

“Nice. That’s more my kinda style.” As Kiryu hi-fived Julius for his genius idea, Seihai clapped with wonder. Julius’ inventions were awesome.

“Thanks, Julius. Well, the canteen is just by there. I’ll see you in a bit!” As Seihai went to look for the other guests, they were caught off guard by an array of floating cards.

Yes, floating cards.

‘B-bruh..what?!!!’ “Y-yo...” Seihai smiled awkwardly as they backed away from the dancing cards. ‘Shit...Where’s my runes? SHIT!’ Worried that they were magical spirits or something, Seihai was about to unleash the algiz rune to make a protective ward- until the cards transformed into people!

It was an amazing magical trick. Arising from a sparkling array of stars was none other than Faye and Vann; two mages that were very adept at magical skills. As Seihai breathed a sigh of relief, Vann posed.

“Yo, it’s me! I’m excited for some tea today.” Vann gave both Faye and Seihai a fist-bump.

“Me too, it’s my first time visiting here! Glad to make your acquaintance.” Faye shook Seihai’s hand.

“Nice to meet you both as well." As Seihai greeted them, the two began to discuss their various skills.

"I'm amazed you also know some card skills and tricks, Faye. Think we could work together?" Vann summoned a card from thin air.

"Hehe, I was taught them by some good allies of mine. Sure, why not?" Pirouetting, Faye invokes a supreme burst of magic, as a bunch of photos land in her hands. "I've been putting my magic to great use lately."

"Ehh! Lemme see!" Vann and Seihai clamored around Faye, as they peered at her photos. "WHOA!!!"

In her hands was none other than a gleaming collection of rare Ereshkigal and Serenity photos....photos that were worth their weight in gold.

'Hot damn, that's so adorable...' Seihai's eyes watered slightly when she caught sight of the cute shots of Serenity laughing and Eresh blushing. 'Faye has some mad skills.'

"Whoa, you gotta teach me that sometime...Wait. Seihai, where are we going again?" Vann looked up suddenly. "Aren't we going for tea?"

"Ah, yeah...I forgot. The canteen’s just by your left.” As they went off on their way, Seihai freaked out in horror as yet another card leapt into their face-Vann grinning mischievously at them as he and Faye walked along.

“H-holy crap...card magic is so good, yet so scary at the same time...” Seihai hoped that they could be as good as them at magic someday. Finally turning to look for the other masters, they bumped into some familiar faces.

“Oh, there you are! We got lost on our way to the canteen,” The final group of masters stood nearby, waiting in the wings. Maya, Val and the mage trio of Kat, Cris and Jeanne greeted Seihai, as they lead them to the location of the tea party.

“Ah, sorry about that. Actually, I also got lost trying to locate you all,” Seihai grimaced. They had lived in Chaldea for god knows how long; yet still struggled to find their way around!!! “How are you all doing?”

“Never been better.” Maya spun to the side, tapping their feet. “It’s a nice break from my regular duties.”

“Ooh, you mean your duties as the CEO of Chaldea?” Kat shot them a wide grin. “How’s that going?”

“Perfectly well! I’m having a lot of fun. What about you? How’s the trio doing?”

“We’re doing great! Although Spartacus ran into a bit of a frenzy during the movie shooting recently,” Jeanne spoke reflexively, stroking her chin.

“Haha, sounds just like him!”

As they burst into rancorous laughter, Seihai tapped Val lightly on the shoulder. “How about you, Val? Are you doing alright?”

“Huh...? Oh, yeah?” A light blush sprinkled across her cheeks. It seemed as if Val was hiding something. And Seihai definitely wasn’t the only one to notice. Leaning towards Val, Maya cheered.

“You hiding a little something?” As Maya winked, Val’s blush deepened.

“Er...Well, you see...” Sucking in an enormous breath of air, Val swung a ginormous box out of thin air. “The girls and I picked out a bunch of tabletop RPGS for us to play! But I was a bit worried that you guys maybe wouldn’t want to play...So, yeah. Well, you know.”

“Val...” Seihai’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. The fact that Val had gone out of her way to bring games that she carefully selected with the people she loved...It was adorable. So sweet that Seihai clutched their heart. “I really appreciate the sentiment. Thank you.”

“Yeah, we do too. Games are good fun,” Cris patted Val on the back, as Maya helped Val carry the enormous boxes. “No need to worry.”

“Trying out new hobbies is good! Besides, I read Jeanne Alter’s doujinshi on a daily basis. There’s no way I’d judge you for that.” Maya was right. Hobbies were great to share!

“...Thank you...”

Once everybody had gathered for tea, utter chaos ensued. As Seihai panicked, Emiya was competing against Julius’ tea machine. That’s right; Julius’ tea machine was a challenger in Emiya’s eyes. However, Emiya won the competition once he showed off his brilliant bartending skills- by elegantly pouring Kiryu a nice cup of beer.

“Heh. Not even a tea machine can match up against my bartending skills.” His expression was smug.

“He’s got you beat on that one,” Kiryu conceded, as he took a nice sip of beer. “Wow, this beer’s amazing!”

On the other hand, the other masters were cheerfully wolfing down Candace’s baked loaves, and a wide assortment of cakes that had been ever-so-kindly prepared for them. Even Bunyan was treated to a special pile of pancakes.

However, problems began to occur as masters started to arm wrestle over who’d get the biggest slice of cake. Despite this, Quin defeated every single challenger as swiftly as possible.

“I love cake,” She exclaimed, as she took a glorious slice. Nobody could defeat her!!

‘I’m so damn jealous...’ Seihai sighed, as they settled into a small slice. After that, things went even more nuts when playing some of Val’s tabletop RPGS. Even though magic was meant to be banned when playing games, that certainly didn’t stop anybody!

By the ends of things, the canteen was bustling with fun; laughter; and a massive pile of cards.

Once Seihai saw all of the masters off, they chortled. ‘That was a lot of fun...’

They hoped that they’d all come back again soon.

Lol it’s finished. Sadly, I couldn’t go into detail about the tea time events as there were so many visitors! well hope u enjoyed. XD

List Of Mastersonas Included (tags):

@hasabbydoneanythingwrong @hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @hasnightingaledoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong@hasnobbudoneanythingwrong

#fate series #mastersona #my writing #WAH SO MANY MASTERSONAS XDDD

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atsukashii · 5 years ago

Text

❝soft hours❞ // k. bakugou

SYNOPSIS: ➛ The world knows Katsuki Bakugou as the explosive number two pro hero. You know him as your husband who is soft for only three people on the planet; you and your children.

» CHARACTER PAIRING: prohero!katsuki bakugou x reader

» WORD COUNT: 3.3k

» GENRE: pro-hero!katsuki, aged up characters, dad bakugou

» WARNINGS: swearing, fluff to the max & dad katsuki

« masterlist || ao3 »

Being a mother is hard work.

You aren’t sure how your own made it look so damn easy, because it is anything but. When it was just you, your husband, and your son it was easy enough. But adding another baby to the mix?

You have never been more tired in your entire life.

For the past month of her life, Koharu had been a good sleeper, with a chill and calm temperament that you, your mother, and mother-in-law; Mitsuki Bakugou all agreed did not come from your husband. But the past two days were a lot different. She had regressed... A lot. With Katsuki back at work, barely able to take time off due to being a high ranking pro hero, you were left to your own devices with the newborn. He had offered to help of course, but you had this. How hard could it be? You’d said confidently.

You’re not so confident now.

Just yesterday, you had struggled to put her to sleep when Katsuki came and managed to do it in less than ten minutes. And honestly, for a second were jealous of your husband. But then he had stumbled over nothing, swearing like a sailor and the wailing began again.

“Suki, don’t swear at the baby!” You had laughed

“I didn’t swear at the baby sweetheart, I swore at the fucking toy Kazuto left on the floor”

“Suki!”

“Kazuto, how many times do I have to tell you to pick up your toys once you're done playing with them?”

“Sorry, dad!” That moment had made you feel a lot better about your parenting abilities.

Today, however, with Katsuki out on patrol, and your son at preschool, it left you and Koharu alone for some girl time. Time, that was spent with you completely frazzled and desperate to help your baby to stop crying and go back to sleep.

But. Nothing. Was. Working.

After four hours, she finally fell asleep purely out of exhaustion, but not before you had called your own mother, crying on the phone. You weren’t a bad mother, you were just adjusting… Right? All parents had off days with their children, no one was perfect. Though when you had picked up your phone in a moment of peace and mistakenly opened up Instagram, you took one look at a young influencer and her designer baby, looking like she stepped out of a damn magazine… You couldn’t help but compare it to the sweats you wore to bed the night before that you still hadn’t changed out of, the spit up on your shirt, and the bags under your eyes. This is normal, you’d had to remind yourself over and over again as you had put your daughter back into her crib.

Stirring the curry you quickly threw together for dinner, you are ripped from your gloomy thoughts as the noise of the front door opening meets your ears. The door was quickly followed by the voice of a very energetic three-year-old carrying what you know to be the Red Riot merch backpack he takes everywhere. It was a gift from his Uncle Kirishima that Katsuki hates, but puts up with for the sake of his son's happiness. You also know that he has a Chargebolt T-shirt in his closet that he wears to preschool sometimes and cherishes it dearly. His favorite though, is his mini grenade toys based on Katsuki’s own hero costume. For Kazuto’s first birthday, you’d had a hero theme and you couldn’t help but dress him up like your husband, but when you did - with his white-blonde hair and red eyes - he looked like a tiny Katsuki. It was too cute.

“And-and then he kicked the villain SO HARD that he flew across the sky! He’s so cool!” Explains Kazuto, jumping up and down in excitement.

“Mmhmm,” Katsuki adds, making it sound like he was paying attention, and encouraging his son to keep rambling about his enormous love for heroes. You won’t be surprised if he follows in his father's footsteps and becomes a pro hero in the future, with his quirk already arrived and causing havoc through your home.

Your own quirk - Bloom; allowing you to create whatever kind of flora you want, wherever you want, had gotten you into the general studies course at U.A. Which is where you had met your platonic soulmate, Mina Ashido. You had instantly clicked with her when you had met at the end of your first year, and then through her, you met Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Katsuki. At first, you hadn’t known what to think of the explosive blonde, and he didn’t seem to want much to do with you. That was until one day when you and Mina had convinced them all to hang out at an arcade, a villain attacked the street outside. Being not in the Hero course and not having a provisional license, you had left your friends to do their thing. It wasn’t however until the end that you had noticed a young boy, crying and calling for his mother. The villain had a super strength quirk and ended up throwing cars out of his way in an attempt to escape. Seeing what was about to happen before it did, you had lunged into action, throwing yourself over the boy and activating your quirk around you to create a wall of wooden spears the size of Redwoods. You had saved the child, gotten the lecture of a lifetime from Katsuki that ended in him confessing more than he wanted about how he felt about your safety. You were dating a month later and had been together ever since. You had also discovered what you wanted to do after school that day. Deciding you wanted to help people, you became a social worker that helps children who have lost their families.

Your son Kazuto’s quirk was closer to yours than your husband’s quirk, with the three-year-old having the ability to manipulate earth. His favorite thing was watching Avatar: The Last Airbender and trying to recreate what the Earth Benders did - in your living room, much to your chagrin. And you had a feeling that Koharu’s quirk was going to be something like Katsuki’s due to the fact that the baby smelt similar to your husband.

“Hi, mum!” Kazuto shouts loudly, poking his head in the kitchen. He flashes you a smile broken by a new missing tooth, before racing down the hallway like he is set on a permanent setting of a sprint.

“Hi you two,” You say, smiling as your husband comes into the kitchen in his casual street clothes, opting to change at the agency.

“Hang up your bag Kazuto!” Bakugou yells after him and you pray that you have remembered to shut the nursery door. You hear a muffled response form your three-year-old before the sound of his feet dashing up the staircase and the momentary silence that follows has you sighing in relief. She's still out.

Walking over to you, Katsuki wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. His strong arms pull you back to his chest as he looks over your shoulder to see what you’re cooking. Really, the quick curry was a bit pathetic, but after your long day, you didn’t have the willpower to cook anything fancy. As is sensing the tension in your muscles, Katsuki didn’t say a word about the food, which was a first. You were actually a good cook, but your husband was better and loved to tease you about it any second he could. So the fact that he currently stands behind you not saying a word was odd.

“Your mother called me today.” Katsuki murmurs, his voice soft and full of concern. You sigh glumly knowing where this conversation is going. You had hoped your mother wouldn’t say anything to Katsuki after you’d called her today, in tears from frustration and insecurities falling from your lips like a boiling pot. It had been a bad day, everyone was allowed to have some bad days.

“Sweetheart, if you need help with the baby-”

“It’s really fine Suki, it was just an off day.” You say, leaning your head back on his chest and tilting it back just enough so that you could meet his ruby gaze. “Besides, you can’t take any more time off work.” Leaning back up again, you grab the wooden spoon and stir the red sauce. Katsuki lets out a breath before moving with you, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“I can take a fucking day off Y/n.” He mutters against your skin. A shiver runs up your spine and spreads down your arms, making your hair rise. Even after all these years, he still has the ability to render you to a pile of mush.

“Your team will have my head if you take another day off, Suki.” You point out.

“Then I’ll blast them to hell after I fire them.” His response makes you smile, as he turns you around in his arms. His signature scowl covers his face, but it's the concern in his eyes that has your heart squeezing tight. He’s really worried, you realize. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

“Suki-” The sound of Koharu’s ear-piercing wails breaks the silence and has you resting your forehead on your husband's chest. “I’ve got her.” He says, placing a kiss to the crown of your head and giving your hips a reassuring squeeze before slinking out of the kitchen. You are so lucky to have him.

To this day, Katsuki is still blunt and rash with the media, but people don’t really get to see the side of him that comes out with his family. He tries not to let his friends even witness it because they all give him endless shit about how much of a softie he is for his family. He denies it to hell whenever one of them brings it up, but after both the kids were born, Katsuki cried. Not a lot, just a few stray tears that engraved itself into your mind so heavily. With a sappy smile, you move the curry off the stove and begin dishing it up. As you finish, Kazuto comes wandering in on his own accord which surprises you. Normally, either you or Katsuki would have to go and get him or yell that dinner was done for the three-year-old to make an appearance.

His vermillion gaze meets yours, and smiles. “Dad sent me down, he’s trying to put Koko to sleep,” Kazuto explains. You nod in understanding, walking the food over to the dining table. You only serve portions for you and your son, knowing that there's a chance Katsuki might not make it back down in time to eat with you. Once you are seated, you look at Kazuto and smile which is enough of an open look to make him start rambling about his day. Pro Hero’s are the first thing to come up, re-explaining the battle that one of his teachers had shown him through lunchtime, followed by his friends and then what he ate for lunch - as if you hadn’t been the one to make his lunch.

“It’s ‘Bring your parents to class day’, soon. Will you come?” His words shock you, and for a moment you just sit there blinking at your son. Kazuto looks up at you with such hope in his eyes, it makes you want to cry.

“You don’t want your dad to go?” You ask. You love Kazuto endlessly and would do anything for the sake of your children's happiness and safety, but you know that Kazuto and Katsuki have a special connection. One built on trust, love, and how much Kazuto looks up to his father as a pro hero. He truly is his father's biggest fan and honestly, it's beautiful.

“It’s during the day, so he will probably have work. And I want you to come, you're a hero too mummy! You help save kids and help them find families.” Tears spring to your eyes, both at his admiration and the fact it's been a long day, and you so needed to hear that. Because you were a hero in your own way, you were a savior to the children you worked with. Guilt then followed behind the thought. Would I be a bad person if I didn’t go back to work then? If I wasn’t there to help them? You shake the thought from your head and look back to your son.

“Thanks, honey,” you subtly wipe under your eyes and shove another spoonful of curry back into your mouth. “I’d be more happy than happy to come, but you might also want to ask your dad too so he doesn’t feel left out.” Kazuto nods his head ecstatically at your words before shoveling more food into his mouth. You muffle a quiet laugh at his antics. Yeah, he’s your son when it comes to his love for food.

“I also decided about my party this year for my birthday,” Kazuto says again.

“Your birthday?” You ask, pretending to think. “No, it can’t be coming up. I clearly remember your birthday being last year!” The teasing tone goes over his head as he scrunches his face up in a pout.

“It is! I’m four!” He argues, and you don’t hold in the smile

“Are you sure?” You feign ignorance like you didn’t remember your own son's birthday. Finally catching on, he groans at you.

“Muuuuummmmm...”

“Your birthday…” you begin and Kazuto beams in response before continuing on.

“Can it just be us at my party? With Aunt Mina and my uncles and cousins? I know they all might be really busy being heroes…” He asks and you're once again surprised by your son. Not one for flashy things, and not wanting to spend his outside of school time with his friends, but his family. It's adorable. His temperament at times like these takes after you so much, even though he’s the carbon copy of his father.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you say winking, knowing that your friends would do anything for your little family. Including taking an afternoon off to spend it with their godson. Noticing he's done, you move to get his plate and gesture towards the stairs. “Why don’t you go clean up and check on your dad.” Kazuto nods and quickly scampers out of the room.

You clean up the kitchen quickly, putting leftovers in a dish and placing them in the fridge for Katsuki to raid later on. Leaving on the kitchen light, you walk out of the kitchen and past the living room to go up the stairs when the TV catches your eye. In the lounge, your eyes fall to the couch which holds your now sleeping husband and your one-month-old daughter, completely comatose on his chest. Old reruns of Friends plays quietly in the background, a show you watched compulsively whilst you were pregnant with Koharu. Squatting down next to Katsuki, you can’t help but smile at the peaceful expression on their faces.

As if sensing your presence, Katsuki cracks open an eye, instinctively finding you. “Finally got her down I see,” you whisper, thumbing the blonde hair on the baby's head.

“Our kids fucking love me. I’ve got the magic touch.” He says and you grin.

“Oh, I’m fully aware. Mr. Tough-Explosion-man to the world, but here at home - with a sleeping baby on his chest. You’re really soft, Suki.” He now smiles at you but doesn’t make a move to reject the statement.

“Where’s Kazuto?” Katsuki asks, looking over the back of the couch to the clock on the back wall of the lounge.

“He’s gone to wash up.” You reply, leaning forwards and picking up Koharu with very practiced and perfected stealth to take her to her crib. “He should be done by now. I’m going to put this one in her crib.” You finish, walking up the stairs and into the nursery. With baby blue painted walls and clouds that you had painstakingly illustrated whilst you had left all the assembly of things to Katsuki because the man practically growled at you when you moved to lift something. Turning on the baby monitor in Koharu’s room before quietly slipping through the door, you trudge down the hall towards the master bedroom. On your way past it, you innocently pole your head into Kazuto’s room, seeing Katsuki leaning against the wall next to Kazuto’s bed as they speak quietly amongst themselves. Every time you come into your son's room it makes you smile. The walls are covered in pro hero posters of people like his uncles and his dad. There’s even one of Deku that Katsuki doesn’t like, but once again, puts up with for his son. Kazuto’s eyes lock onto you whilst still talking to his father and you blow him a kiss before leaving the boys to their chatter.

Closing the door behind you, you make quick work of jumping in the shower and washing your hair for - when was the last time you had washed your hair? To be honest you weren’t sure.

With that thought, you finish your bathroom routine and get into your comfiest pajamas which consists of one of your husband's t-shirts, a favorite of yours since high-school. Beelining to the bed, you crawl under the covers and let the exhaustion of today leak out of your bones. Tomorrow was a new day, you remind yourself. It was something you found yourself frequently saying when you were overwhelmed and today, you had reached your limit. You only just close your eyes when your door opens, and Katsuki’s walks in. He’s quick and quiet like usual, but as soon as he gets in the bed, he pulls you towards him. He holds you tightly, your back against his chest - which you know won’t last for long because it's summer and the man is like a walking furnace. Placing a kiss against the back of your head, you finally decide to voice the thought that had been plaguing you all day.

“I’m thinking of taking more time off work.” Katsuki’s arms solidify around you. “Like, longer than my maternity leave.” You finish. To be honest, you weren't sure how best to broach the topic with him, even though you’ve been married for over four years now and together twice that long. You’re a very independent person and always liked having your own source of income. And relying on someone for that - there’s nothing wrong with it, you just weren’t sure that was for you. But lately, something changed. Maybe it was adding another baby to the mix, but you’ve been wanting to spend more time focusing on your kids and your husband, rather than work.

The agency would be fine without me. Katsuki’s arms tighten around you as he helps you roll over towards him. His eyes are filled with pride and love as you look up at him. Placing his hand on your cheek, Katsuki gives you a soft smile.

“You know I’ll support everything you do. The other people at your agency will struggle for a while without you because you basically carry everyone in that fucking place.” Katsuki says. “But they will be okay. You’re the love of my life y/n, a great wife and the best mother to our little gremlins.” The buildup of stress from today bubbles over and you can’t hold in the tears. As fast as they fall, Katsuki brushes them away before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you so much sweetheart,” A broken sob breaks out of your mouth before you can stop it which has Katsuki kissing your forehead and grasping you tighter, tucking your head under his chin.

“Shitty woman, let me fucking help you.” He whispers and you nod against his chest.

“I love you, Suki.” Your voice is smothered against his skin, so you place a tender kiss to the bare skin of his chest in response. Running his hands down your spine and his warm body pressed to yours, you slowly drift to sleep. Your husband really is a softy at heart.

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki #bakugou #bakugou icons #katsuki bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugou fic #katsuki bakugou fic #swearing #fluff to the max

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