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1kook · 3 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.

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songbirdstyles · 5 years ago

Text

early risers

summary: harry gets bored, sometimes, waking up at the crack of dawn - but he can always find a way to entertain himself somehow.

warnings: smut, fluff, 18+ only please

Harry has discovered that he much prefers to wake up at the same time as the sun.

It creeps above the horizon, painting the sky a glorious array of pinks and oranges and, sometimes, he sits up and bed and just watches, beyond mesmerized at the sight of the world lighting up. His hair is a mess and he’s chilly, the blankets falling around his lap, but there’s nothing greater than seeing the night bleed into day.

At the ripe age of 26 and nearly 10 years into his career, he doesn’t need to remember to set an alarm before he goes to sleep so he wakes to catch the sunrise every morning. His body forces him up at that time - assuming, of course, he goes to bed before 12 - trained from years of rehearsals and recordings and everything else. So Harry goes to sleep, wrapped around his lover, thinking of nothing else but the girl in his arms and the magnificent landscape he’ll view the next morning.

But you - you don’t like waking up that early. You’ve always preferred late nights to early mornings and dusk to dawn, so you have no problem sleeping until your alarm blares for you to riseat around 9 or 10. Sometimes - if you’ve been working late, or you were tired or Harry wore you out the night before - he’ll turn off your alarm after you’ve fallen asleep. Just to give you more of the rest that your body craves.

And now, you’re asleep beside him. Lying on your stomach, covers pulled up taut to your shoulders, protecting your body from the chill of the bedroom air. It’s approaching March but it’s still cold in London and therefore cold in your house no matter how much you crank up the thermostat. Neither of you particularly mind. Cuddling with each other at night, piling in warm blankets and sipping on mugs of steaming tea always provides you with heat that the house lacks.

Harry gazes down at you for a moment. Your hair is a mess, spread out over your pillow, and he reaches out to brush against one of the strands. The sky, beginning to light up in an array of red toned hues, casts its colors on your skin. You look beyond peaceful, your head turned toward the side and facing away from him, but the only sound in the room is your soft, even breaths.

He truly can’t get enough of you, sometimes. Or all the time.

His fingers trail from your hair to tracing down your neck, feeling your warm skin under his touch. In your sleep, you hum softly, shifting just a bit, and his hand pauses its trek down your body. He doesn’t truly want to wake you - not yet. He knows you don’t like to be up as early as he does, although he’s tried to drag you out of bed numerous times to watch the sunrises with him. You agreed out of virtue of wanting to spend time with him but within moments of sitting up your body had slumped into his, fast asleep with his arms wrapped around you as the golden sun started to send its rays into your bedroom.

When you don’t move again he continues to drag his finger down your shoulders and down your back, moving the covers slowly off of you. He uses his other hand to push them down to bunch around your waist, and he watches goosebumps pop up over your skin.

Poor baby, Harry thinks, pressing his palm down on your back to try and alleviate some of the cold. But feeling bad for the lack of heat isn’t enough to get him to pull the covers back up, to remove his hands from your body, so he keeps going down. Palm moving along your back, trailing lower and lower until he feels the swell of your bum against the edge of his palm.

And this is where he pauses, resting his hand against your lower back and leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. Because he could stop now - lie back down and wrap his body around yours, wrapping your thick blankets around the both of you and doze off for a little while. But he doesn’t truly want to, nor does his painfully hard morning wood, practically throbbing as his pinky begins to climb over the curve of your ass.

You had both agreed that waking each other with oral was okay. He remembered that. You’d never really done it before, mostly because Harry didn’t like to wake you up so early. But - well. The options are either waking you now and getting both of you off or doing it himself.

He’s always been a charitable guy, so he shifts on the bed and tugs the covers all the way off your body.

Harry’s mouth practically waters at the sight of your entire naked body laid out on the bed - again, you shift just ever so slightly in your sleep and your legs spread just a bit and he can’t help himself, now.

He crawls to the bottom of the bed, placing both hands on your inner thighs, wincing at the contrast of cold and warm skin - and then he pulls your legs apart more, exposing your sweet peach to him. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your thigh and leading soft pecks closer to where he really wants to be.

Inhale. The scent is fucking intoxicating, and he thinks he could spend all day just smelling you. It’s unfair, how spectacular you smell. Not half as good as you taste, though, and he squeezes your thigh in a premature apology before leaning his face in and licking a stripe all the way up your slit.

Now he waits, just a moment, pressing his cheek against your thigh. (His stubble brushes against your soft skin and he regrets not shaving last night but he knows, deep down, you love the burn on your thighs after he goes down on you.) You don’t react at all though perhaps he can imagine a small hitch in your breathing at the feel of his tongue on you. He doesn’t dwell on it, though, just dives back in to you.

His tongue darts down to your clit, flicking the bud a few times before he moves his head down to wrap his lips around it - he sucks softly, just the way he knows you love, and if you were awake he can imagine the way your hands would be twisting in his hair, your moans breathy and high pitched. He could go down on you for hours if only for how deliciously hot your reactions were to every little thing he did. He had the art perfected down to a T.

One hand massaged your outer thigh and the other crept its way in between your thighs, parting your lips just slightly so he could push his tongue towards your hole, the muscle circling it a few times before dipping inside ever so slightly. He savors the flavor on his taste buds, and his hips rut against the bed to alleviate some of the tension building up.

He’s so turned on he feels like he could explode but no, no, he has to wait. Just a few more minutes until you’re awake and cumming into his mouth and then he can fuck you, slow and soft or hard and rough, just depends how you want it and - he swears - he’ll do anything for you right now. Harry is always like putty in your hands but when he’s horny you fucking own him. Even when you’re a crying, writhing mess beneath him, distraught with your sixth orgasm in a row, you control him.

His fingers circle your clit and pinch the sensitive nerve and that’s when he hears it - a soft catch in your breath, and when he looks up at you he can see your fingers ever so slightly clench your pillow. You might not be fully awake, perhaps just thinking you’re having a detailed dream, but you’ll know soon.

Harry’s eyes go back to your pussy, soaked in your arousal, and he takes a moment to gather saliva in his mouth and spit it onto you, watching it drip down to your clit. He presses his lips to the curve of your ass, sucking a hickey into the skin as he uses two fingers to gather the dripping spit and push it into your tight hole and god, it is tight - two fingers is a stretch as it is but he knows your pussy like the back of his hand. You’ll be ready soon, and so he thrusts his fingers in and out of you slowly, listening to the wet noises and the hitches in your breathing and his own soft moans as he rubs his achingly fucking hard cock against the bed. It’s taking too much willpower not to snake his hand down to his dick and get himself off but he wants to wait.

A kiss to your clit, and then Harry pulls back from sucking a dark mark into your ass and forms his lips into a small ‘o,’ letting out a soft breath onto your cunt. Just like he knew would happen, your body jerks at the sensation. He rests his chin on your thigh and looks up again, smirking as you lift your head off the pillow. Your hand moves to rub your eyes, and then you look down and lock eyes with him.

“G’morning, princess,” he tells you, voice low and husky and resembling something of a growl. He’s still two fingers deep in your cunt and he can feel the gush of wetness around his fingers as you whimper, parting your legs more to give him easier access. “Did I wake you?”

You try to reach your hand down to go for his hair but with the angle it’s a bit difficult - Harry moves his head up anyway, and your fingers grasp the ends of his messy curls. Then you breathe out something resembling a laugh, shaking your head and burying your face back in your pillow so your voice comes out muffled when you murmur, “Like that wasn’t your intenti - holy shit.”

Harry leans in again, lips around your clit and teeth grazing the button. Your legs clench together and he nearly feels suffocated by the brief sensation of being completely enclosed in you but - well, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. He removes his fingers from your pussy and grips both of your ass cheeks, spreading them apart and pressing a firm kiss in between the center of them. A moan pulls its way from your throat and his cock jumps at the noise.

“Can you cum for me, angel?” he questions, flicking his tongue across your puckered hole as his fingers knead the globes of your ass, but he doesn’t take it further than that. He knows you’re not completely ready for all of that, so he moves his mouth back down to your cunt and rubs his tongue across your clit. “I know you can.”

“Fuck, fuck, Harry.”

“I asked you a question.”

To prove a point he rests his hands on the bed beside you and pulls himself off, removing all traces of his touch from your skin, and you raises your head at the loss of contact. Your eyes are soft and he almost caves and just goes back in to make you cum but, well, he does have to prove a point.

You take a breath and then whine out, voice so breathy like it always is in the morning, “Please make me c-cum, Harry, I fucking need it, I need you -”

But he doesn’t have to be told twice. He buries his face back between your folds, bringing his hand up and slamming it back down on your ass. The noise reverberates through the room and you cry out, biting down on the pillow but he hates that, he needs to hear you scream for him. Needs to know he’s the only one who can make you feel this good. So he reaches up, grabs the pillow from beneath your head and throws it across the room without a care. “Need to hear you, don’t I?”

His tongue is thrusting in and out of you as fast as he can go, fingers rubbing fast, hard circles on your clit until your thighs are trembling and threatening to shut around his head again and his hips are moving against the bed against his own free will. Loud moans and cries fill the room, drowning out the sound of the slaps he’s landing on your cheeks, of his mouth working your cunt desperately, and then you reach down to grip his hair so hard he can feel strands disconnect from his scalp but he can’t bring himself to give a shit.

The moment the coil inside you snaps he can feel it - like a dam breaking, a gush of your sickeningly sweet juices washing over his face and dripping down your thighs, down his wrist, and your thighs are spasming around his head. He pulls his head back to watch you cum, fingers still working circles into your clit, and he’s beyond grateful he did - your hips push back against his fingers, eyes shut and mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ as you moan out. After a moment you reach down to grasp his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from your clit and he obliges, bringing the same hand up to grasp your jaw. Harry moves his body further up the bed, pressing his chest to your back and pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to your lips - his cock resting hot and heavy on your back and it’s a promise of what’s to come when you’ve gone through a moment of recovery.

“Harry,” you mumble into his mouth, and he pulls away to press a kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Harry, Harry -”

He hums in response, rubbing your cheek with his hand, and then leans in to give you another kiss. It’s moments like these - in between your mind blowing orgasm and him about to fuck your brains out - that reminds him, more than anything, why he’s so in love with you. Why he can’t imagine himself with anyone else.

You shift, then, pushing yourself to your knees, the stickiness of your cum just a bit uncomfortable, and he groans at the feeling of his dick shifting from its spot on your back. “Can you fuck me now?”

The soft moment ends, and he pauses for a fraction of a second before pushing himself back up to his knees. His hand wraps around his cock firmly, and his other one reaches down to grasp the back of you neck. Not too tight but not too light and he can see how much you love it, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to make the angle easier for him and he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t try to ease you into it, just slams the length of his cock into your dripping, sensitive cunt, filling you completely and the shriek you release sounds like fucking heaven.

He grunts as he bottoms out, grasping your thigh so hard he knows he’ll see the finger shaped bruises on your soft skin later on but he knows you love it and, God, he does too. He pulls out of you and then slams back in and for a moment the loudest noise in the room is skin against skin.

That doesn’t last long, though. The groan that rips its way out of his throat soon takes that title, and he knows how you love when he makes noise so he never holds back like he has with other girls. Harry never has to hold anything back with you. You take what he gives you, you love what he does to you and it’s the greatest gift of all.

“Fuck, fuck, harder, baby, please,” your pleads are jagged, your breath faltering and each syllable punctuated with a moan and a cry and he loves that he can fucking do this to you at fucking 7 in the morning. “Oh my god, fuck, I’m gonna - “

“Gonna cum for me?” His face is bright red, grunting out his words through gritted teeth as he fucks you hard, bringing his hand up to smack your ass again and again until your skin is bright pink. He’d entertained the idea of going soft, starting slow with kisses to your neck and listening to your breathy moans but he needs this now and you want it so bad, pushing your hips back into his and begging him to go harder. “Gonna cum for me again like the - like the fucking dirty girl you are?”

You can only nod in response, losing the ability to hold yourself up and your face drops onto the bed, cheek pressed into the mattress that’s moving so much the fitted sheet came off the corner. Your wrist is wrapped under your body, fingers working at your clit and he can feel you clenching around him, pussy pulsing around his cock.

He’s so close - he knew he wasn’t gonna last long but he wants to come with you. Wants to feel you cum together. So he removes his hand from your neck and grips your wrist, pulling it away from your sensitive nub despite your cries of protests and he replaces your fingers with his own, rubbing hard and fast because he knows he can get you off better than you do.

“Cum for me,” he tells you, and your eyes squeeze shut, pussy fluttering and you’re so close to your orgasm you can fucking taste it. “Cum for me, baby, fucking cum on my cock -”

Harry grips your thighs and pulls your hips flush to his as he empties inside you, just as your pussy clenches around him and you cum for the second time (and it’s only 7:10) with your moans mixing with his desperate grunts as he fills you up, lazily pushing himself in and out to make sure your greedy pussy swallows up every drop he has. And he waits for a moment, not wanting to pull out of the tight confines of your cunt, but after a moment he does, and he collapses beside you.

The two of you stay still for a moment, and then you shift to wrap your body around his. A smile tugs at his lips because even if you’re panting and exhausted and fucked out you still just want him to hold you, so he does - arms around your body pulling you close to him. Sooner rather than later he’ll get up to get you a washcloth but not right now. He needs this peace now, until your breathing has steadied.

“You know,” you begin, and he turns his head to look at you. “I’m not opposed to waking up early anymore if we can start every day like that.”

And Harry just laughs at that. Maybe the sunrise won’t be his only motivation for waking up early anymore.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #my first smut #actually first writing #pls be gentle #but whatevs #enjoy

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a-simple-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

Study Date

Requested by anonymous: “Hermione Granger x reader where reader is best friends with Luna and has a crush on Hermione. She never acts on those feelings because Hermione called Luna Looney and seems to dislike her and in the end maybe Luna sets them up. “

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 2.3k+

A/N - Today i offer you yet another story about hermione granger. Tomorrow? Who knows.

Thank you to @kileyrose-2003 for checking it over.

Hermione Granger was a complete enigma but that was probably due to the fact there was only so much you could learn through limited interactions. If there was one thing you knew about her, it was that she was a spectacular witch with a thirst for knowledge. She had been placed in Gryffindor all those years ago but she truly could have excelled as a Ravenclaw; if that had been the case perhaps the two of you would be closer. Things would have been entirely different but alas you were left to admire from afar since that very first year when you noticed her across the Great Hall. You didn't even have any classes together until you started taking electives. However, as hard as you tried Hermione Granger seemed to avoid you at all costs. You had invited her to hang out many times but she always declined. Maybe Ron and Harry were the limits of her social perimeters?

A hand sways before your eyes drawing you back to reality. "So easily distracted."

Luna Lovegood had such a melodic, soft voice that it was weirdly hard to ignore. Then again everything about the girl could be considered peculiar which was something you greatly admired. She didn't care what anyone thought of her and yet you cared so desperately what they thought of you. "Sorry," You hum, folding the paper in your hands. "I just... do you think there is something wrong with me?"

"No more than anyone else,"

"Maybe that's why she doesn't like me," You let out a defeated sigh before placing the origami tiger you had been working on down on the table.

"Who?"

From the corner of your eyes, you spot a familiar brunette wander into the Great Hall. A few books wedged under her arm. "Can you just give me a sec-"

Without giving Luna a chance to respond, you leap to your feet and scramble along the length of the entire table and then around to catch Hermione.

"Wait," You place your hand against her shoulder, startling her just a little. "Hermione,"

She spins on her heel; her frown morphing into that of a welcoming smile. At least she seemed happy to see you. "Yes?"

"I..." you trail off as a wave of heat washes over you. The Gryffindor always managed to make you feel anxious. It wasn't a bad thing; you knew it was because you liked her but with her already taking every opportunity to ignore you it didn't exactly help the situation. "I was wondering if you uh, wanted to play with us? Me and Luna, I mean."

It sounded rather childish slipping from your lips but Hermione's brow quirked up. "What are you playing?"

"We're having a race," Your expression brightens at her interest, signalling back to the Ravenclaw table where Luna now sat alone. "We both made something out of paper and we’re gonna enchant them so they run the racecourse we made." To the left of Luna was a makeshift racetrack made of books, cups and even your spare inks and quills. It was only small so it'd be a quick race before lunch began. "If I win Luna promised to make my bed every day for a week. If she wins she gets my last bag of Fizzing Whizzbees."

"Shouldn't you be studying during study hall?" Seems Miss Granger was all work and no play. You simply shrug, standing a little taller.

"I'm smart enough already," You declare proudly, a cocky smirk on full display. "And besides it’s nearly lunchtime so we were long overdue a break."

You watch her eyes drift from yours over to where Luna was sat and back. "You two are quite the pair."

"Me and Luna?" As if she could sense you talking about her, Luna waves at the two of you. "She's like my best friend."

"You don't find her a little... strange to be around?" Hermione muses. "A little... loony perhaps? Half the school thinks she's lost her mind."

She was right in saying that a lot of your fellow students judged Luna harshly for being a little more outside the box but you never expected Hermione to be one of them. "I think... she's awesome and I'm glad she's my friend. You shouldn't judge her so harshly when you don't even know her."

You may have invited her to join you but that offer was no longer on the table as you marched back to the Ravenclaw table without another word. Slumping down in your seat exasperated sigh. "Are you okay?"

Plastering on a smile, you give her a firm nod. "Shall we start?"

"What happened over there? You seemed rather excited before."

"Nothing," Focusing on the origami, you pick up your wand.

"You shouldn't bottle things up," Luna expresses softly, picking up her wand too. "Might make your head explode."

"Does it ever bother you that people call you crazy?" You wonder.

"Not really," her head shakes. "It's all in good fun."

You never understood if Luna's belief in people was misguided or just for show. If the roles were reversed you'd certainly not enjoy having people make fun of you. "But what if it's not?"

"Then it's out of my control," Luna flashes a smile. "Shall we start."

With a nod of your head and wands at the ready, Luna starts the countdown. "3... 2..." your grip tightens around your wand. "1.... Go"

With a flick of your wrist, the paper tiger springs to life but it takes a few nudges from the end of your wand to get it moving. When you saw Luna's monstrosity trailing behind, you knew you had this race in the bag.

"I don't think Hermione likes you very much," you don't know why you decided to tell her that, it seemed only cruel in the moment. "I don't think she likes me much either as hard as I try,"

"Maybe you should stop trying," Luna's focus was exclusively on the race as you watch her. Maybe you should stop trying... that was easier for her to say because she didn't find herself with butterflies every time she saw the girl. Searching the Gryffindor table, you find Hermione sitting alone; scribbling away on a piece of parchment. "Staring can be considered quite rude, y'know?"

Glancing back at the race, you find both racers have crossed the finish line and were now laying completely still against the table. Students were beginning to pile into the hall for lunch so it was time to clean up a little. "Sometimes it's hard not to," Reaching over the table you grab your quill. "She's just interesting- who won by the way?"

"It was you," Did you win or was she just being nice? It didn't matter now anyway so you may as well take the win.

You haven't spoken to Hermione since that day she had the audacity to question your friendship with Luna. You didn't necessarily think she had meant what she said in a bad way but it just hadn't sat right with you. It also helped that the only class you shared was Defence Against the Dark Arts so she wasn't all that hard to avoid. The page of your textbook flips over with a gust of wind as you lounge against the stone archways in the quiet courtyard. When you spot Harry, Ron and Hermione, you bury your face behind your book in hopes of not drawing any attention. If you didn't acknowledge she was there maybe you wouldn't long to run over.

"Hey," Slowly lowering the book, you spy the girl in herself looking perkier than usual. Seemingly having abandoned her friends just to come and speak to you.

"Hello," you reply quietly, keeping your eyes on the page. It was explaining how to create the Forgetfulness Potion; a beginner level potion and not at all hard to make.

"Luna said you'd be out here," You glance up at the mention of your friend's name. Why had she been talking to Luna? "And that you may require a study partner,"

Strange. She had never wanted to study with you before. "You don't have somewhere else you'd rather be?"

Hermione shakes her head. "Luna can be quite convincing but if you'd rather study alone, I can go."

"No," the reply comes a little too quickly. "I mean, uh... you can stay. I'd really like the company."

"Great, Ron and Harry are rather distracting when it comes to studying," She plops herself down at the other end of the archway by the end of your feet. Your knees were now pulled a little closer to your chest, propping up your potions book. "I can quiz you if you want?"

"Can I ask you something?" You pose the question as you sit up a little straighter trying to give her more room; handing over the book in the process.

"Of course," Taking the boom, Hermione's hand brushes over the cover but she opens it and begins flickering through the pages. She had the same textbook so you're not exactly sure what she expects to find.

"Why are you here?" The rustling of pages comes to an abrupt stop as her eyes settle on yours but only for a moment.

"To study?"

"You've never been interested in me before," you reply bluntly. "I don't see what's changed now? What exactly did Luna say?"

"Just that you like me," Wide eyes of surprise, your stomach sinks. She was joking right? She had to be. "And that you think I don't like you which is perplexing. So she told me where you usually go to study and that you'd very much appreciate my company."

"I'm gonna kill her," you growl under your breath, sinking down against the stone. How you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now.

"I also thought it was only right that I apologise for the other day," you can't even bring yourself to reply; too scared you'll somehow embarrass yourself further. "I shouldn't have spoken about Luna that way- I also apologised to her. Are you ready?"

Anything to help forget about what Luna had purposely done, you nod your head a little. Setting this whole thing up was a sweet enough idea but she didn't have to straight-up tell Hermione that you liked her. Hopefully, you could just play it off as friends. A silence settled between the two of you as Hermione searches through your book. "I'm gonna say a potion and you just have to list the ingredients, simple enough?" You can feel her eyes on you but can't bring yourself to look back. "You alright?"

"Mhmm,"

"Are you sure?" She questions. "I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything. I'm sure Luna had the best of intentions."

"Just say a potion," It's even more awkward when she brings it up the fact Luna told her. "Please,"

"Okay, how about... Draught of Living Death?"

"Uh..." for a second your mind seems completely blank. Taking a deep breath you settle your nerves a little. "Standard potioning water, Powdered Root of Asphodel..." your brow furrows in concentration. "Infusion of... Wormwood? Valerian root, A Sopophorous bean and-"

"Sloth brain," Hermione finishes. "Good job. Okay, let's try..." The pages flutter between her fingers for a moment. "Exstimulo Potion."

Exstimulo potion. You rake your brain for any memory of it; If you remember correctly it was a potion used to boost magical energy. It was a beginning level potion so it won't be too complicated to make. "Re'em blood... Granian hair, Snowdrop maybe, and like... uh... Bitter root?"

"For an extra point, what colour should it be?"

That you knew almost instantly. "sky blue."

With each passing question, your confidence grew around the same speed as Hermione's smile did. You liked to think that your extensive knowledge of potions was impressive but in all honesty, some wouldn't see it that way. "You are really good at this,"

"I enjoy potions. They value knowledge over skill more than some of the other classes- that's not to say potion-making doesn't require skill and vice-versa. " You explain, moving so your legs now dangle over the edge similar to how Hermione was sitting. "It's probably my best class but I like the study of ancient runes too. What about you? I imagine you're brilliant no matter the class."

"I wouldn't go that far," Her gentle laugh fills your ears, filling you with such an innocent sense of glee. "I like most of my classes though, I would take more if I could."

"Of course you would," You giggle to yourself. "I heard in the past you used a time-turner just to attend more classes."

"Guilty," She offers you a smile. You'd done research on time turners, they were interesting little devices but it took a lot of guts to use one. "It was worth it."

"It's a pretty smart way to use one," No surprise considering who you're talking to.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Anything." Hermione fiddles with the corner of the page she has settled on.

"When Luna said you like me, I'm guessing she meant..."

The fire in your cheeks spread hot and fast which had the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. She really had to bring it up again? She couldn't have just ignored it and moved on? "...yeah." You admit quietly. Handing your textbook back, Hermione slips down onto her feet

"So this was her way of setting us up... hmm," Spinning on her heel, she looks to the sky. The sun was beginning to set so it was illuminated by an orange glow. "For a girl so imaginative I would have expected something a little more than a study date."

"I like studying," She sharply turns back to you.

"As do I," She offers a gentle smile. "But I think we should do something a little more traditional for a first date, don't you?"

"First date?"

"Only if you want to,"

"I... yeah. I'd love to."

#Hermione Granger x reader #hermione granger #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Hermione x reader

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enviedear · 4 years ago

Text

secrets that you keep → peter parker

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in a consolation trip back to europe, the kids of midtown high are eager to have a normal vacation, finally. but you on the other hand are on a mission. something weird is going on with peter parker, and you’re going to figure it out.

PAIRING ⌙ peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“-smaller group than before, but we’ll still have fun guys. the tour company has made precautions for you kids. there will not be a repeat of last year.” mr. harrington babbles.

you sink lower into the bus seat. you did not want to be back in europe. truthfully you want to be anywhere but here. wherever, here, was. no one knew. cell service went out about five miles back and the bus driver didn’t speak english.

“yeah guys, don’t worry. this trip is going to be ten times worse than the last. it’s already started bad since we don't know where we ARE!” flash yells, running a hand down his face.

mr. harrington tries to calm him and the rest of the bus down, to no avail.

you block out the commotion and stare out of the bus window. grass, farm, cattle, shack, more grass, more farm. and not one single cell tower in sight. this is it, you think, this is how it ends, stranded in a foreign country with the most annoying people you’ve ever known.

“guys, GUYS! my service is back,” betty yelps. “it says we’re in wiveliscombe, and that it’s going to be three hours until we reach london.”

her words are met with groans.

“at least we have cell service now.” jokes peter parker, who’s sat in the seat across the aisle from you. he’s cute and nice, but weird. last year’s trip he had about a thousand excuses as to why he’d leave the group and if it happened this year, you were gonna figure out why. no matter what it took.

“mhm, and since we have access to the endless possibilities of the internet again, we don’t have to talk..” you huff.

“i.. sorry. i didn’t-” you cut him off by placing your earbuds back into your ears and turning the volume up.

something about peter irked your nerves in a way you couldn’t understand. maybe it was the way he knew fucking everything. maybe it was the way his body became incomprehensibly fit in such a short period of time. you really couldn’t understand that. even went as far as to do research on steroids, but found there was no way he could be using those. most probably it was the nonsense of his idiotic excuses. he might be able to fool everyone else, but not you. you knew there had to be something going on.

he and his stupid cute little brown curls, button nose, and six pack were under your firm watch.

by the time the bus reached the hotel the sun was beginning to set. jet lagged and in need of a long shower, you’re one of the first to fly into the hotel.

“It's me and you for the next week.” mj smiles, holding out a room key for you. truthfully, you really liked mj. she was cool and liked a lot of the same things as you. but she had one fatal flaw in your eyes, she used to date peter parker.

it was a short lived relationship, almost everyone saw it as a fling. peter and mj were just… too different. but they remain close friends.

it’s not like you were jealous... just, a tad bit jealous. besides, that ship had sailed and your goal wasn’t to end up like mj on the last trip to europe. no, you had other plans.

“cool. we can watch murder mysteries tonight and grab some snack from the convenience store down the street.” you grin.

the rooming situation for everyone else took entirely too long. it started with flash being upset that his room requirements weren’t being met. he wanted nothing to do with a roommate. this, caused his previous roommate, zander, to object to rooming with someone so, ‘coddled’.

took a full twenty minutes to resolve the issue.

“mj, you still wanna visit the national gallery tomorrow?” asks the one and only peter parker.

“uh, yeah. y/n, wanna join?” she questions.

you were ready to object, finding it far more intriguing to stay in and sleep but then you remembered your little mission. if you wanted to figure out what peter parker’s deal was, you’d have to be around him.

“sure. nothing better to do.” you shrug, peering straight into peter’s eyes.

“i, uh- i thought we’d get an early start to the day. ned wants to go on the jack the ripper tour, so that gives us until one to look through the museum.” peter rambles.

“alright, me and y/n will meet you two down here around ten thirty.” mj clarifies.

“see you then. night mj,” he looks to you. “goodnight y/n.”

you narrow your eyes at him, “sleep tight parker. busy day tomorrow.”

with that you and mj enter your room, ready to sleep off the jet lag. and soon enough, sleep carries you into her open arms, preparing you for the day ahead.

the next morning consists of peter and ned rushing in and out of their room. the duo forgetting nearly everything they needed for the day. it was extremely annoying. but you’d take watching the two ninnies scramble about over this tour you’re forcing yourself to get through right now.

the national gallery was proving to be a bore. maybe it was you. or maybe it was the dull ass tour guide. either way, you’re finding it hard to focus on any of these artworks around you.

“this is the arnolfini portrait. it’s the work of jan van eyck and it is believed to depict an italian merchant named giovanni di nicolao arnolfini. this painting has remained in the national gallery since 1843.” the tour guide drones.

you peer up at the art, searching for anything to interest you about it. you try to focus of the dark green of the woman’s dress, then the small dog, but nothing about this art is appealing to you. instead, you find the whispered conversation going on behind you to be much more intriguing.

“ned how am i going to make it all the way to japan and back here before the ripper tour?” peter grumbles.

japan?

“i don’t know, but i really don’t want to go on a tour of the most infamous and creepy serial killers of all time without my best friend.” ned whispers.

“but mj will be there, and.. y/n.” peter assures.

“great. they both creep me out. that’s like, two extra loads of creepy added onto the already creepy tour.” ned huffs.

“dude, i have to go… mr. stark is waiting on me.” peter pleads.

you hear ned give an annoyed, “fine.”

you wait a few seconds before turning around to face peter’s friend.

“where did peter run off to?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“uhhhh- the bathroom. the uh, hotel bathroom. yeah, must have been those tomatoes he ate with his breakfast today.” ned gulps.

“mhm. well i think i’ll meet up with him. he shouldn’t walk all the way back alone.” you smirk, shoving past ned and running the direction peter went.

it took a good minute to find him outside, the boy running into a bakery. but once your eyes find him, you rush straight in, right behind him. eyes narrowed and full of questions.

the brown haired boy quickly enters a bathroom and you grin.

no escaping now, parker.

you wait outside the bathroom eagerly. only for minutes to pass. no sound escapes the room and you furrow your brows.

you knock on the door, no answer. annoyed you open the door, only to be met with an empty bathroom.

an empty bathroom with an opened window.

what the fuck?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“we’ve been upgraded!” mr. harrington gleams, looking down at our tired faces.

“last time we were upgraded we almost died.” betty sighs.

“ah- what did i say, we’re not going to repeat last year,” harrington retorts. “now...how do you guys feel about paris?”

well those words certainly livened up the breakfast table. train tickets are soon passed around, and you study yours, spoonful of yogurt still in your mouth.

“hey y/n, mj and i are gonna go to the louvre when we get there,” ned grins. “wanna come with?”

you chuckle, “another museum? nah, i’m good.”

mj quirks a brow at you, “this museum is home to the mona lisa. it’s not just any museum.”

“and the mona lisa is not just any painting… it’s an ugly one.” you huff.

ned guffaws at you.

“honestly, i might skip out too.” peter says.

you turn to face him, “great. you and i can explore paris while mj and ned explore another museum.”

he shifts in his seat, “i dunno i was thinking of-”

mj cuts him off, “i think that’s a great idea y/n. don’t you, peter? you remember what harrington said.. no repeat of last year.”

her eyes are cold as she awaits his answer and he fidgets more in his seat.

“i just think it might be best for me to stay here… ya know in case mr. stark needs anything.”

you roll your eyes, “dude, you’re just an intern. what could he possibly need that his other ten thousand interns can’t do.”

“technically he only has like six other… interns.” peter mumbles.

“but uh.. they can handle whatever mr. stark needs from you. i mean they’ve been av- uh, interns, for a while.” ned says, eyes pleading with his friend.

peter sighs before smiling at you, “alright, me and you versus paris.”

no peter parker, me and myself versus your dirty little secret.

somehow you got to sit next to peter in an empty train car for the ride to paris. and holy shit.. could he talk.

his eyes did have a way of lighting a fire inside you as he talked but, that, was not the point.

it was between an empty car with peter or full car sat between flash and harrington.

peter is always better than the latter.

“-anyways, how’d you convince your parents to let you go back to europe?” he asks.

“i didn’t. they made me.” you say simply.

peter slumps into his seat a little, “uh, why?”

“because when they were younger they traveled the world. i dunno, i guess they expect me to want to as well.”

“oh. well, are you enjoying it so far.” he asks.

i’d enjoy it more if i could figure out your damned secret, parker.

“sure.”

and then, finally, peter is quiet.

but not for long, as the train comes to a screeching halt.

over the train speakers comes a booming voice, “veuillez rester calme. le train s'est arrêté en raison d'un dysfonctionnement du moteur.”

your body tenses and you look at peter, “please tell me you understand french?”

“a little.. i dont think we need to worry. they said it’s just an engine malfunction.” he nods, looking around the train car.

you try to breathe.

everything is okay. there’s no evil robots coming to destroy a train car with two innocent teenagers. that’s so pre civil war. just breathe.

suddenly a loud bang is heard from the car behind you. not just any bang… a gunshot.

“holy shit.” you whisper, stiff as a board.

peter on the other hand is rummaging through his bag.

“parker! what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss.

“i.. just trust me okay? when i tell you to run… run.”

you look at him with a scowl, “i’m not going to be the sacrificial pig for slaughter, asswipe.”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m going to run with you. we’re going to find an empty car and then… wait for spiderman.”

you blink. the kid’s gone insane.

“peter. listen, i know coping with your own inevitable death can be hard but, spiderman.. really?” you groan.

another loud bang comes from the car behind you.

peter looks at you, taking your hand in his.

the door to your car bursts open.

“run!” peter yelps, rushing into the next car, the gunmen not far enough behind.

“holy shit i’m gonna die.” you scream.

peter throws something at the gunmen when the two of you enter the next car, separating the two of you from the monsters.

but the kid didn’t throw just anything at them. motherfucker threw a damn door. a metal train door.

by the time you process the information, peter is pulling you into a cramped bathroom.

“i don’t have much time but basically, hi, i’m spiderman. those guys back there are people tony stark pissed off really bad and i need you to hide in here until i fix this issue.”

with that he pulls his jacket off revealing the spiderman suit you’re so used to seeing on the news.

“that’s your secret? this entire time i’ve been hanging around you trying to figure it out, and it turns out you’re spiderman. i would have thought anything before fucking spiderman.” you dwell, eyes wide.

he slips his mask on, “wait, you only hung out with me because you thought i had a secret? i mean.. i did but-”

another loud bang interrupts him, “nevermind. we’ll talk about this later. stay here and don’t tell anyone what i just told you.”

you nod, and watch him exit the bathroom.

so much for “not a repeat of last time.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“at least it wasn’t witches this time.” mr. dell sighs.

your entire fourth period groans.

“what! our world is infested with witches now. i don’t even know why i’m teaching science. i’m gonna turn around one day and suddenly i’ll be teaching witchcraft.”

your eyes return back to your desk, staring a hole into the old wood. your trance is broken by a crumpled piece of paper. you roll your eyes and turn your attention to peter, who after europe has been watching you like a hawk.

you open the paper to see, ‘listen, mr. stark said i need to get written evidence that you won’t spill the beans. please sign below.’

you grimace but sign at the bottom of the paper and hand it back to your new ninny friend.

that’s right. friend. despite being one of the most annoying people on the planet, with the weirdest secret ever.. peter was nice. he was really nice. he liked almost everything you did and listened intently to whatever you had to say.

“earth to y/n.” his voice calls from beside you.

“oh? is class over?” you ask.

he nods and holds his arm out to you. you take it and give him a half smile.

you may find peter parker to be the weirdest dude ever, but you can’t deny that the secret superhero is starting to flood your mind. you never thought you’d be the one to say it, but peter parker is the coolest weirdo you’ve ever met.

and besides, your mission was a success. you figured out his secret and obtained a friend along with it.

well, friend, until you could complete your newest mission.

telling him you like him. like, a lot.

#—myfics !#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x enemy!reader #peter parker x enemy!reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman far from home #x reader #peter parker

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thetiredbiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

And then...

Dad!Tony x Son!Reader

(mentions of Uncle Rhodey)

Anon: // hello can you do angsty tony x Son reader. Tony and reader has strained relationship and they we're not in good terms, Tony prefer Peter than his son but it got change when both of them got kidnapped, they been together for a few days and slowly they reconciled. Soon they got save by the avengers but the Son Reader notice that one kidnapper pulled a weapon to Tony then R save his father, he got shot then Tony is scared to see his son dying. Its up to you the ending. ☺

A/N: Thank you for the Tony request 🤗🤗 Hope this is ok! (I love dad!Tony, I think he’d be so good...even though this fic is on a different note🤔😂)

Warnings: Cliff hanger end. It was getting pretty long and I wanted to upload something before bed (which also means it hasn’t been checked but oh well, I’ll re-read it tomorrow) BUT I do plan on doing a part 2 :)

(Also swearing, just always assume swearing)

Words: 3100+

Tony’s relationship with his son had always been strained. Ever since he was practically dumped on his doorstep at 4 years old.

Tony had no prior knowledge that he has a kid, none of the women he’s been with had ever even told him they were pregnant. But if he was being honest with himself, it didn’t surprise him. With the way he got around it was bound to happen eventually.

He just wished he’d known from the beginning.

Having a 4 year old left in his care with no warning put him in a whole new territory he was completely unprepared for.

A baby gives you time to prepare and are essentially a ‘blank slate’ at birth. A 4 year old has experiences, like and dislikes, routines, a connection to someone who abandons them with a stranger…

At the time, Tony was still a playboy, out at events and travelling a lot. As well as CEO of a company manufacturing weapons for the military. He didn’t have time for a child. To break through recently arisen trust and abandonment issues and build a relationship.

He cared about his son. Always made sure he had everything he needed or wanted, a good education and was in good health. But forming personal, emotional connections can’t be done with money, and Tony could barley cope with his own true emotions.

It quickly became clear that they did not share talents or interest in maths, sciences or mechanics. His son struggled especially with maths and Tony initially really did try to help, finally thinking something was in his element and he could bond.

But elementary (followed by middle and high) maths was so simple and automatic for Tony’s brain that he found it difficult to slow down and explain the process to the young boy.

He hired a tutor in his place.

That’s not to say Tony expected or needed his son to be a genius in the same subjects as him. He didn’t need his son to follow him (or his father) to be worthy of his time. But it would have made it easier.

Instead, his son excelled in English and arts, and was amazing in the kitchen. He loved to write stories, create pictures to accompany them and experimenting with new recipes.

Unfortunately, Tony did not excel in these areas, thus distancing them further.

At least he wasn’t taking after his father though. He didn’t force his son into one path or degrade him. No forcing him to grow up, giving him alcohol at a ridiculously young age or sending him away to be completely alone.

Tony often wondered himself if he’d have taken the path he did if his father hadn’t pushed him. If he’d be the same person without the verbal abuse and constant neglect of his father.

He wasn’t blind to his emotional distance and lack of bond to his son. Or to the connection the boy had to both Rhodey and Pepper. He could see that his son was connect to the two people he trusted the most and he was glad.

When Rhodey was available, being in the air force meant he wasn’t always around, he made sure to take the boy out, go to school events and even read his stories, giving feedback and support.

Pepper made herself available if he ever needed to talk and was always willing to taste test.

Even Happy was around to take him where he needed to go, training in the gym and joke with.

So even if the young boy didn’t have a relationship with his father, he had adults around to support and love him and help him through life.

It didn’t stop him wishing he did have a relationship to his father though.

While MIA in Afghanistan, Tony realised he wanted to try harder to build a relationship to his nearly teenaged son.

It didn’t happen.

He returned home and completely changed his company, which required a lot of time. His guilt also led in him to putting on that damn suit and trying to save the world.

And then he nearly died from palladium poisoning.

And then New York was attacked by aliens and the avengers were formed.

And then Tony had PTSD; anxiety, panic attacks and nightmares.

And then ‘terrorists’ blew up their house and nearly killed Happy and Pepper.

And then murderous robots.

And then the avengers broke up.

And then Tony worked with the UN to amend the accords and set up more help and cleaning crews. Back to lots of travelling.

And then…

And then… Peter.

It never eased up and his son turned 18.

His son made excuses over the years. He genuinely was busy and obviously struggled with relationships. Maybe he’s just not paternal? You can’t blame someone for trying to save lives either.

Of course he was aware it isn’t all on Tony, he could have tried harder to bond with his father as well.

But then Peter came along.

Scientifically and mathematically gifted Peter.

Superhero Peter.

Enthusiastic, smart and funny 15 year old Peter.

And then Tony had the time.

He made the time.

For Peter.

To talk to him. Help with his homework and superheroing.

Teaching him. Training him.

They spent a lot of time in the workshop and lab.

Tony was always so interested in what Peter had to say. Whether is was about science or mechanics, school, spider-man or even teenage romance.

It came so easily and naturally to Tony.

He had the time.

Even the team had noticed this relationship and dubbed them ‘Iron-Dad and Spider-Son’.

That hurt.

The time he overheard Clint comment, ‘why couldn’t we have had dad-Tony this whole time?’ really stung.

Tony’s been a dad, to a son, the entire time he’s known the avengers.

He didn’t hate Peter though. It’s not his fault and he’s actually perfectly nice. But to see his father so easily bond with another kid in a short time made him realise that he’d never get that father-son relationship.

Tony is paternal. Just not for him.

His eyes fluttered open, the ground cold against his face.

Wait, ground? What-

A groan passed his lips as he sat up, pressing a hand to the side of his head where pain radiated.

He blinked the fuzziness from his eyes, trying to remember how he got there, but the last thing he could recall was leaving the Stark Industries event after supporting Pepper.

The room was dull and very basic. With stone walls and floor, no windows, one dim light and two metal framed beds so rusty they would probably break under his weight.

As he glanced back down to the ground, he noticed another body in the room. They were still slumped on the ground and back to him.

Scrambling across the floor, he pushed on the mans shoulder to lay in on his back and see his face.

Dad?

Quickly he checked for a pulse and when he was satisfied with the regular thumping, he moved away, letting out a sigh of relief.

With his back to the wall, arms resting on his bent knees, he waited.

It was only a short while later when Tony began to wake. Groaning and sitting up in the same manner his son had moments earlier.

“Oh God, what the hell-where am I?” He mumbled, clearly unaware he wasn’t alone.

“I was hoping you’d know the answer”

Tony’s head snapped over at the grumbled voice to see his son.

“Y/N. What- what are you doing here?”

“hell if I know. Can’t imagine why anyone would take me. I generally don’t piss people off and I’m neither an Avenger or a tech genius.”

“Maybe they mistook you for me” Tony joke, completely oblivious to his sons disinterested and cold tone.

He shuffled back to lean against the opposite wall as his son scoffed.

“Sorry kid, you got the Stark looks.”

“Yeah, that’s all I got” the young man mumbled, leaning his head back on the wall, closing his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Silence fell between them until the door opened.

The two men rose to their feet as two armed guards entered the room, a third following with a tray of unappealing food and bottled water.

Neither Stark was acknowledged as the tray was placed on one of the beds and they turned to leave. They even ignored Tony’s incessant questioning and cocky attitude.

His son stayed silent, taking on of the bottles as he sat back on the floor, still not ready to trust the beds.

“Could they just answer a simple question? They got to have a fucking reason for this.”

“Whatever it is I wish they’d just hurry up with it.”

“What, are you bored? Got places to be?” Tony asked, before taking his seat back on the floor.

“Yes, actually. I have an interview Monday and I’m not ready.”

“An interview? What for?”

“Like you actually care.”

“Hey, that’s not-“ Tony began to object but his son looked over at him and cut him off.

“Unless it’s about Peter or Superhero shit, you don’t want to know. You haven’t magically become interested, you just don’t like the silence and unfortunately I’m the only one here. You never cared about what was actually happening in my life before, why start now?”

Tony stared at his son in shock. It’s hard to make The Tony Stark speechless, but right now he had no words at all.

As his son dropped his head back to the wall, looking away from him, Tony couldn’t take his eyes off his son.

Thoughts ran through his head as he examined his son, becoming aware of how little he really did know.

-When did he get so tall? Not tall-tall though, definitely the Stark gene at work there.

-That suit makes him look so grown up, even if those a-holes took our jackets and shoes. Why did they take our shoes? No. Not important. Focus.

-I care about my son. Come on Tony, think. Something.

-School? Crap, when did I last even read a report card? He’s always aced English. Didn’t he do band? No, shit, that was Peter. Goddamnit, is he right?

“You’re 18.”

“Well done. You want a medal?”

“Is the interview for college?”

His son still didn’t move, wouldn’t even look at him.

“Please, Y/N. I-I know I’ve not really been… present in your life. But I do care about you.”

“Do you?” His eyes burned long repressed anger and Tony prepared himself for everything that was coming. He knew he’d deserve it too.

“You gave up so easily. It was too hard to bond with your idiot son, a shy kid who couldn’t understand simple maths. You’d rather be with women and go to parties, and the company always came first. All you did was throw money at things. For year I was fine with it, you using money to help me. I had more than more. It was clear you struggled with relationships of any kind and I was just dumped on you with no warning. It was fine because I had Rhodey, Pepper and Happy. They were there to talk to, they taught me things and supported me, Rhodey would go to school events whenever he could. I just figured maybe you’re not a paternal person. Then you became Iron Man and started saving the world and I can’t be mad about that.”

Tony stayed silent and watched as his son stood up, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace.

“Then you met Harley and kept in touch with him. You upgraded his garage into a high-tech lab. But he did help you save Pepper and the President so I guess you owed him and I didn’t let it bother me. It wasn’t until Peter came along that I noticed that you are one of the most naturally paternal people I know. You became his father figure, took him in so quickly, bonding immediately. If he needed help, you were there. He wanted to talk, you listened. Whether it’s out being Iron Man and Spider-man, training him, helping him with his school work or just locking yourselves in the workshop for hours building new shit. You’re always there for him. He witters on about some stupid crush for 25 minutes and you hang on every word. But you couldn’t do that for me?! What, did I need to be a genius at maths?! Interested in building extravagant technology?! Would you have noticed me then? You know, you went to Peter’s science show last month but you’ve never been to any of my school events. It was always Rhodey, Pepper and Happy a couple times, or no-one. But never you.”

The young man stared at his father, chest heaving, eyes burning as he held back tears. Yet Tony said nothing. He couldn’t take his eyes off his son. Lips parted and eyes glistening with unshed tears, he just sat, no words coming out.

“Yeah I’m 18 any yeah it’s a college interview. I graduate in a few weeks, Rhodey’s going. I’ve already been accepted to a couple colleges. Only a few months and I can leave.”

He didn’t give Tony a chance to respond as he risked the bed, laying down and facing the wall as he focused on bringing his breathing back to normal.

Behind him, his father watched on as tears fell down his face, guilt taking over his whole being.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night. While his son eventually fell asleep, Tony stayed on the floor, thinking through everything his son told him and looking back over the years.

The following morning, two guard came in and took Tony away.

They brought him back a few hours later, unharmed. The younger Stark watched as Tony worried his bottom lip and fussed with his clothes. He noted the troubled look on his father’s face and it was clear that whatever the kidnappers told him wasn’t good at all.

But he remained silent.

Eventually Tony settled, sitting on the floor again. But the two still didn’t speak for a few more hours.

“I’m sorry,” Tony finally broke through the silence and tense atmosphere of the confined space.

His son remained silent but his eyes moved up to look at him. This was enough of an acknowledgement that he was listening and so Tony continued.

“You might not believe that, but I am. I don’t know why it was so hard or why it was so easy with Peter. I didn’t- It wasn’t intentional, I didn’t even realise.”

The young Stark kept his eyes on his father but his face stayed blank and lips sealed.

“And you know, just because maths and science subjects didn’t come naturally to you doesn’t mean you’re an idiot. I’ve never once thought you were. I know the Stark name has become so tied to them, mechanics, advanced technology and engineering… but it doesn’t mean you’re not…good enough? Because you don’t follow that. I never thought you should have been, it didn’t-didn’t disappoint me or anything. But you were always so talented in arts, you wrote the most amazing stories and a complete natural in the kitchen. Things I’m not so great at. It just made it harder for me to figure out how to connect. I didn’t know where to start.”

A small smile flashed across his face, eyes glazed as he recalled the past.

“Y’know, I loved those stories about the uh, the dragons that live on your shoulder. I’d find drawings and paintings of them all over the house, and it was a big house!”

Across from him, his son’s head raised a little higher, eyebrows subtly furrowing and looked at the soft expression on his father’s face. He had no idea Tony even know about those.

“I should have been there, tried harder. There’s no excuse for that. But I have always cared. You were just so talented in things I didn’t understand. Then I saw how close you and Rhodey became and-“

Tony let out a sigh, looking away from his son.

“You were left with me, an egotistical ass and a- a playboy. I didn’t think I deserved you. You deserved someone better. Someone emotionally available and mature. Someone to help you grow into an amazing person and progress your talents. Someone like Rhodey. He deserved you and you him. He was -and is- better for you. You were loved and supported by him, and then Pepper and Happy, so I – I thought you’d be ok. That you wouldn’t need me.”

Once again it was all quiet in the small room. This time Tony wouldn’t look at his son, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his father.

“I did need you.”

His voice was raspy as he admitted this to not only Tony but himself.

“Rhodey’s the best. I love him. Couldn’t have asked for a better Uncle. But that’s what he is; my Uncle. You were supposed to be my Dad. I shouldn’t have had a father figure when my father was right there. You were so cool, before and after becoming Iron Man. You made everything around you seem like fun. I didn’t understand the tech crap but- I’m an artist. I can, and did, design things. It’s not all on you, I didn’t make it easy.”

“You were a kid, it is on me. But, maybe- When we get out of here I’ll do better. I want to be an active part in your life. I also understand if it’s too late though.”

“It’s not. It’ll take time but, I’d like that. Rhodey might get jealous though.”

A huffed laugh slipped past Tony’s lips as they spread into a smile on his face when his son cracked a grin.

They continued to talk into the night, about school, which colleges and courses, friends and dating. Once they started they couldn’t stop.

It is hard to shut up a Stark.

They were laughing about one of Tony’s stories of his time in MIT with Rhodey when an explosion shook the room.

The men stood up and faced the door as the sounds of fighting and yelling grew nearer. A smirk spread on Tony’s face as he recognised the noises of his teammates.

It wasn’t long before the door was broken down and Captain America stood in it’s place.

“Bout damn time. Did you stop for coffee?”

“Yeah, yeah, tin man. You’re welcome.” Hawkeye quipped as they walked down the halls.

Rhodey broke through to get to his nephew’s side, checking him over and ensuring he was ok.

Tony led the group to the main room. The kidnappers had access to files and tech that would be too dangerous to leave.

As Tony wiped everything, quips flowing between him and his teammates, none of them noticed the man sneak in through another door.

The younger Stark moved before his brain could even process what was happening, placing himself between his father and the gun that was raised to his back.

*bang*

#tony stark x reader #platonic tony stark x reader #platonic!tony stark x reader #tony stark x son!reader #tony stark x son #tony stark imagine #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert

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rndavus · 3 years ago

Text

The Collector

TW/CW: mentions of We*pons, bl*od, d***h, vi*lence

I purchased a painting from the merchant's stall at the back of an abandoned alleyway, it looked wonderful. It really did. The gorgeous face of a middle-aged woman played with my lonely heart with a devilish smile, making my breathing uncontrollable.

I was in the habit of collecting paintings, mostly portraits of beautiful young women. One might have called me a connoisseur of the beauties of the visual arts. As I walked with the bag I was keeping the canvas in, it seemed to become heavier with every step. I tried to protect it from all the Victorian dangers that could've damaged the painting. By the time I had reached the doorstep of my house, my arms ached as the weight of the bag began to make me understand how Atlas must've felt holding Earth in his arms.

I entered my house, a familiar smell coming to me as I walked past the threshold. Everything I had grown accustomed to and took a chair on which I placed the bagged painting. After I removed the cloth, exposing the naked, revealed canvas for my delighted gaze. Oh, how beautiful she still was, although her smile had gone astray. I could see no more glee on her face. Instead, she looked at me with widened eyes. Her lips slightly parted, exposing her front teeth in the candle light that lit up the room. She slumped to the side a little.

"How could it have changed?"

The painting also looked worn to me, as if decay had somehow gotten to it in that small amount of time. As I bought it before, the canvas looked new. That is what attracted me to it so much, what urged me to buy this work of magnificent art. The painting appeared as if it had just been created. As I looked at the painting then, it was scratched up, old, and almost ready to be thrown away. There were cuts in canvas everywhere and the paint had scratches, deep enough to have taken parts of the paint away. I analyzed it for hours, my mind was unable to process the strange sight that I observed.

I got up and walked away from the painting to get a whiskey. Perhaps that would straighten out the confusion so heavily set on me. I took a few sips from the bottle of whiskey that had stood on the counter since the last couple of days and turned around to take another glance at the portrait.

"By God!"

I gazed at it as I noticed it seemed like the frame had been broken. When I bought it, there had been no damage to it, nor as I brought it in. It was in pristine condition. To see damage to my new canvas saddened me. It used to be such a beautiful painting, and presently, the painting appeared more decrepit with my every glance .

To prevent any further damage, I decided to watch it more closely. I grabbed a chair from the table in the small dinner area, shoved it to the opposite side of the painting, and stared at the painting, refusing to take my eyes from it. For hours, I kept a close watch on it, not allowing this mystery to unfold any more and my painting to become more damaged than it already was. But staring can be more tiresome than one would think. After a long passage of time, in which I denied my eyes the rest they needed; that they demanded, they forced themselves to close.

Hours went by with me sleeping in that chair, guarded by the painting across me. As I awoke, my shock was immense. The painting had lost all its color. There stood a gray painting in front of me. No more were the colors vibrant. But the colors were not the worst of it. Those eyes - the eyes that were vibrant when I observed the painting before, were dull. The color had disappeared from them. They looked horrifying. What beauty had once lied in them was a long-gone fantasy. It broke my heart to see the eyes staring back at me with such a vacancy.

Why the painting was acting in such a manner, I don't know. Perhaps it was the paint that was of an inferior quality, perhaps it was bad luck, but the radiant image was fading with such speed that I couldn't keep up with it. I thought about staring at it again , but my mind quickly told me that in the long run, this would be futile, as I would grow tired yet again, and my consciousness would eventually extinguish. I stood up, walked back to the bottle, and then heard it. A short groan, as of someone waking up and gasping for air. It was impossible though, since I was alone in the house.

I tell you, I am not insane, nor do I have the tendency to hear things that weren't there. But as I stood by the counter and reached for another bottle of whiskey after having finished the last one, I heard another groan come from behind me, close to the painting, but not from it.

My heart raced within my chest as I jolted around and freaked out. The bottle of whiskey dropped as I turned, my hand shoving it off the counter and hit the ground. For a moment, I stayed still, expecting to hear the sound again. But alas, my silence was answered by more silence. My eyes darted to each corner of the room, scanning whether I could, before hearing the sound again, see the origin of the sound that was chilling me. Yet again, I was met with failure.

With my heart still racing, I bent over to pick up the bottle off the floor. My ears kept listening to my surroundings as I cleaned the floor, expecting to hear that dreadful sound again. The more I listened, the more it seemed like all sound was starting to be sucked from the room. I walked to the window and opened it. I hoped to hear horseshoes prancing and the wheels of carriages rolling on the stone roads, birds chirping, people talking, or even the leaves from the trees being rustled by the summer wind. Instead, I heard the groan again, now coming from right behind me, almost at the place where I stood.

My head turned to the source of the sound. It was now close enough for me to locate where the sound came from. It came from the floorboards. It was in the room, there was no doubt. I was sure that it came from under the floor now. I know I am not insane, and I know that I heard it from there. You might say that a groan could never come from the floor. Where else would it come from? My eyes glanced over at the painting once more, and the sight I beheld terrified me. The woman in the painting looked at me with those gray eyes. Perhaps even through my soul. Her lips curled into a small grin as she gazed at me.

A loud gasp escaped me with an impressive echo which overwhelmed the otherwise silent room. I observed the room, fear taking over my mind. My head felt dizzy, and my stomach felt as if it was about to spill all the contents of the day to the ground. My breathing became loud and heavy. What was going on? Why had this simple painting brought this insanity into my home?

"My God!" My lungs inflated in synchrony with the words, "Why have I deserved this? Why have you brought this misery to me? What sins have I committed to deserve such punishment upon my mortal soul?"

I received no response from the God that I had once adored. I still stood in the room, alone, pestered by the loud groan. I turned around and dropped to my knees. I began desperately looking through all the cracks of the floor, searching whether I could see through them and, perhaps, discover the source of the horrible sound.

Then I heard another groan. This one came from a different place. It sounded different and was more guttural. It was somewhat louder than the others.I quickly ran to the kitchen and took the first knife that I could find. I held it tightly in my hand as I walked around the room and scanned every inch of it, trying to determine from where the new torturous sound came.

As time went by, it started to seem as if the room filled with the vile groaning. It filled my ears until I could no longer hear anything else, nor think about anything else. I had to stop it before it would have cost me my entire sanity. Wherever I looked, it appeared to become the one source of the ear-shattering noise. In the insanity that was beginning to conquer my mind, I could suddenly distinctly hear the source of another groan. It was the closet - the damned closet. I marched towards it and opened it, the uncontrollable force of my anger pulling the closet door nearly out of its hinges.

There she was: another painting. The painting of a young girl which I had brought only a few days ago. How beautiful she looked! Yet, she had begun boring me all those days ago. That was an issue I had since my early years. I would get something new, and within a short amount of time, I'd become bored with it and needed to get rid of it, as it would become a bothersome thing for my eyes. For that reason, I had placed the painting within the closet so my eyes wouldn't have to look upon it. The gaze of the girl in the painting looked directly into mine. I saw the mouth move, and before a groan could come out, I smashed the knife into the canvas, ripping through it.

Suddenly, a loud knocking on my door disrupted the salvation I delivered myself. I jerked the knife back and forth while I watched the door. I looked at the knife, and saw that my hands were covered in a scarlet liquid, sticky substance. My mind could only grasp this to be paint. I looked at it with raised eyebrows and smirked at the prospect of having stopped at least part of that terrible sound. My enjoyment was short-lived as the knocking at my door became louder. almost louder than the groans were. I began walking to the door, marching over the floorboards and through the deafening noise. I pulled the door open, and in my anger I stabbed the knife into whoever stood outside, adding to the noise that was already enraging me.

My eyes grew wider as I saw a police officer standing before me. The large fellow looked at me in shock. As I looked over at my hand, I realised I had stabbed his colleague in the stomach. He sat on his knees, as life slowly left his body. His pained gaze darted at me as the sounds of his teeth grinding tightly together ground against my mind.

That brings us to today. I am now sitting in a cell. It is tiny, but I will soon be out of her and be guided to the gallows. They tell me that I murdered many women... That my house was filled with victims... That the stench of the dead women could be smelled everywhere in my house... Their words confuse me. I couldn't even hurt a fly. Yet they keep telling me that I'm a killer?! They said that I had abducted a woman that day, strangled her, and placed her dead body upon a chair in my house. They also said there were corpses of women in the closet and under the floorboards. I now sit in my cell confused, able to only conjure the sight of the many paintings that I had bought.

I am sure that no women, dead or alive, were in my house. I can swear to that, as God is my witness. I was alone in that house as the police arrested me. I merely collected paintings. That was all which was present in my house. Now they are calling me "insane", but as I have stated before: I am not insane. Of that fact I am sure. Never have I felt insane, nor have I felt any urge to put harm upon anyone. I merely enjoyed collecting my paintings. The only insanity that may have pierced through my sanity is how I became bored with the paintings after a while, and kept putting them away in various places around my house.

But it doesn't matter. I have already been declared insane, and thus, my words aren't believed by anyone. No matter how much I speak, the gallows shall be my final destination. That is a fact of which I am sure.

#short story #horror #suspense #Mystery #writerscommunity #writersnetwork #writers aesthetic #fiction #my writing #writing #exciting #writerscorner #writers #writers on tumblr #writeaway #horror writing #horror fiction #Short-story #short fiction

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ficsilike-reblogged · 5 years ago

Text

What’s in a Name?

A/N: This is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever written in my entire life. But it’s soft. Because Marcus Pike is soft and deserves all the love. Granted, I’ve only watched The Mentalist all the way through once, so...do with that what you will.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG for mention of guns??? I just want to be on the safe side. Idiots in love. Falling in love with someone and not knowing their name. Cliche use of a Quote from Romeo + Juliet.

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to learn your name and the one time he actually does.

Pike was unlucky in love. He knew it. He had started to accept it when things fell apart with Lisbon. His friends and fellow agents, the assholes, actually took pity on him and said he’d find the right person eventually. He just didn’t anticipate having to meet her over and over again.

... that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet... (Romeo + Juliet)

Sometimes, every once in a while, he actually hated his job. Sure, he got to go undercover, stop criminals, right some wrongs, and be called ‘agent’ on top of it. But, right now, listening to some sycophant rant and rave about the “superiority of Cubism over Dadaism,” he wanted to switch careers. There was supposed to be a sale of a stolen Cézanne happening at this gallery in Los Angeles and Pike had suspected the guy with the too-tight three piece suit and bad transatlantic accent was the ring-leader of the whole theft and re-sale. He just needed to not spork his eyes out until he saw money pass hands from the agent he’d sent in to pose as the buyer and the thief-turned-art-asshole. He thought it would only take an hour or two, busts like this usually did—but this guy loved the sound of his own voice so much that he had been going on a tangent about 20th century art movements for nearly four hours now and had somehow gathered a bit of an audience, too, debating with others, and the like. It was exhausting just listening to him.

“If you give me ten dollars, I’ll spill some red wine on his shirt and he’ll be forced to leave.”

Marcus looked to the left at the sudden voice and found a woman pretending to look at the piece in front of him, just like he had been doing. She was pretty, dressed in a high-end dress and sky-high, red-bottom heels, and looked every bit the part of an old money socialite. “Ten dollars?”

“I’d do it for free, but I need to receive some sort of incentive so I’m not just doing it out of spite. I heard that’s bad karma.” She hid her smirk behind the lip of her champagne flute.

“I’ve heard spite is a fantastic motivator.”

She hummed and squinted at the painting as if she cared. Maybe she did. “This is an awful piece of work. Truly, one of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

The man behind them continued to talk just as a waiter passed by with a platter full of red wine and she skillfully plucked one from him without missing a beat. She finished her champagne and handed Pike her empty flute. His eyebrows raised as she smiled at him.

“I’m Marcus.” He held out a hand for her to take. She shook it with a smile but didn’t give her name in return. She winked and walked away—right toward the mark.

And yes, she dumped red wine all over him.

There was a collective gasp and he watched the scene with a muted sort of fascination as she then managed to make the art thief smile with some joke she must have said and then he walked away to clean up. The crowd dispersed. The other agent was able to snag the thief and make the exchange and handcuffs were placed on his wrists all within a couple of minutes.

Maybe he should have actually paid her the ten dollars. She really did just speed everything up.

But, when he looked around to find her, she was gone.

The second time he met her was at an art auction in D.C. There was no sting. No operation. The Art Squad had recently helped the auction’s sponsor recover a priceless Van Gogh piece and they had insisted the entire Squad come to the black tie dinner and auction, foregoing the 1000-dollar-charge-per-plate the ticket usually cost. The food was good. The wine and champagne was obviously expensive and Pike was sure he’d see some of the art that was being auctioned off in his case files in the next few years. That was just the way of the world. He looked around at the displays and glanced at the sheets where people had written down their bids. Some people were being generous—most others were being cheap.

He slowed to a stop in front of a small Dalí and then down at the auction sheet. It was currently up to only a few hundred dollars. He wouldn’t win, he was sure, but he could pretend to participate in this ridiculous auction.

“I didn’t take you for a Dalí fan.” Her voice was still smooth and he knew, instinctively, that she was smiling before he even turned to look at her. She was draped in sky blue silk and pearls, reminding him of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.

“I think he’s iconic, to be sure.”

She sidled up to him and looked at the small painting. “Thinking about bidding? It looks like everyone else is besotted with that original Warhol.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder to reference the crowd steadily growing on the other side of the ballroom.

But all he could focus on was the smell was her perfume. Expensive and floral, it seemed to fit her perfectly.

Manicured fingers handed him a Mont Blanc pen from the depths of her designer bag. “Best of luck, Agent Pike.”

As she walked away, he realized she knew his last name now—somehow—and he still didn’t know hers.

Pike tried to find her again in the mess of rich people, to ask her name and how she knew of his ‘agent’ status and last name. But all he managed to do was catch a glimpse of blue silk as she exited the venue.

“Do you know her?” A tired-looking man asked as he walked to Pike’s side. “She left a large donation and my boss will kill me if we don’t have a name to write in our next list of donors.”

“I…I don’t actually. Did she bid on anything? Maybe we could get her name that way.”

And for the next fifteen minutes or so, he filtered through the crowd, trying to ask inconspicuously about his Venus and if she had bid on anything. And, when he finally learned that she had bid on an Alphonse Mucha sketch. And he almost felt lucky. Almost!

Because, as he made his way over to where everyone was pointing, he saw only two scribbles on the sheet. Surely he could discern which one of the names was hers.

One was Richard…

And the other one was just a scribble of blue ink, smudged beyond legibility.

(A few weeks later, he was delivered a package at his office. Inside was the Dalí he had bid on. On a slip of paper was a smudged smiley face and the word: Enjoy!)

The third time he met her was decidedly less glamorous. The Art Squad had been trailing a group of thieves across the East Coast when they finally caught up to them in Boston. Pike had hoped they’d be able to catch them in the act and be done with it.

Instead, what they found when they stormed into the art museum, was the thieves holding several hostages. And, of course with his luck, she was among them.

Her hands were behind her head and she was on her knees as one of the thieves pointed a gun to the back of her head. Boredom was, surprisingly, coloring her face but she smiled when she caught sight of Pike. “Hi, Marcus.”

“Hi,” he said in return, fighting a smile of his own.

The whole thing was over in just over an hour and the hostages were released and the thieves were carted off in the back of a police van.

And maybe now he’d finally learn her name.

He was the lead agent on the case so he had to answer a million and one questions from other agents, from outside law enforcement, from the press. And, belatedly, he watched his least favorite agent, Rhett Brown, approach his unnamed Venus. The agent was fine when given a gun and told to shoot—but how he’d managed to wind up on the Art Squad was a mystery. He’d lost or misfiled more paperwork than anyone else Pike had encountered put together.

Pike knew he needed to finish all of this nonsense—and really, he shouldn’t call it nonsense, this was important—if he wanted to even have a chance to get her name. But the local police asked a lot of questions (they were doing their job, he couldn’t blame them) and then the press conference dragged on (again, they were just doing their jobs). And by the time he finished, he jogged back to where the former hostages had been held as they were being questioned.

And, of course, she was gone.

Pike pulled Rhett aside and asked for his notes.

Rhett nodded and stuck his hand into his suit pocket and then froze. “Oh no.” He quickly patted down his other pockets and shouted at another agent, “have you seen my notepad, man?”

Pike was tired when he met her for the fourth time.

The deposition had lasted longer than he anticipated, stretching long into the night. The case was a strange one, involving inheritances, forged wills, and a “disappeared” Jackson Pollock that “reappeared” across the country. The hotel was nice, however, and he slumped into a stool at the hotel’s upscale bar and ordered a pale ale.

It was set in front of him quickly and he drained half of it without much fanfare.

“I always thought you looked more like a whiskey kind of guy.”

He nearly spat out his drink.

She slid into the stool next to him and ordered a top shelf cognac. Her lips were painted a vibrant shade of red and left a mark against the glass as she took a sip of the amber liquid. “Long day?”

“You could say that. You?”

She nodded with a small smile. “What’re you doing in New York? More FBI business?”

“Something like that.” He took another drink of his beer and she watched him over the edge of her own glass. “How’d you know I was in the FBI?”

“We have friends in common. I know Charlie—you helped him get back his precious Van Gogh.”

“Ah, Charlie.” He nodded in understanding.

“Yes, he went on and on about the FBI agent who saved his marriage—imagine that, an entire marriage hanging on the edge of one painting.” Despite cognac being meant for sipping, she had already nearly drained her glass. “Imagine my surprise when it was you—the man from the gallery opening who basically gave me full permission to dump wine on a pompous asshole.” She watched him laugh as she took another sip of the dark amber liquid. “Charlie pointed you out when you came to the auction. The man can hardly remember his children’s names but he remembers yours.” She smiled and he could have sworn he’d never seen anyone so beautiful. “But I like the um…” she gestured at his chin and then placed her finger beneath her nose in a childish imitation of a mustache. “It’s a good look.”

He laughed—she was good at making him laugh. “I was undercover.”

“Oh?” It came out with another laugh. “Aren’t you mysterious?”

“I’m mysterious? You know my name and my job—and that I think Dalí is iconic. I know nothing about you.”

“What is there to know? I procure art for people who have too much money. I spend more time on planes or in hotels than I do in my little apartment in New Orleans. I like Humphrey Bogart movies and a good blanket.” She smiled before polishing off the last dredges of her drink. “See? Now you know more about me than I do about you. And it is all far less interesting.”

His heart had lodged itself higher and higher into his throat as each word passed her lips. “No…I-I think you’re really interesting and beautiful and I…I would love to know more.”

She was embarrassed, he could tell, but she still smiled. Her mouth opened to say something else and-

-a bellhop stepped to her side. “Your bags have been loaded into the car, ma’am.”

She turned and thanked him, pressing a few bills into his hand before she stood and grabbed her purse. She put a few more bills—far more than her drink could have possibly cost—onto the bar top and signaled to the bartender that she was paying for both their drinks before he could even think to stop her. “Thanks for the company.”

“Yeah. Of course.” He was in a bit of a daze as she leaned down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The familiar scent of her expensive perfume touched his nose as she pulled back.

“I’ll see you around, Agent Pike. But really,” she once again mimed the mustache, “it’s a good look.”

He murmured his goodbye, head still pleasantly swimming, and watched her walk away.

It took him a full five minutes to realize he still didn’t know her name.

The fifth time he met her, he’d been stuck at O’Hare International Airport for five hours. Five hours in the worst airport known to mankind. His flight back to DC had been delayed and then delayed some more and then delayed some more. He’d only been in Chicago for a few days to help lead some training to the local arm of the Bureau. Nothing exciting. And now he was stuck waffling between two equally awful airport restaurants for dinner while he continued to wait.

“Hey stranger.”

He turned to see her walking toward him, a designer carryon being wheeled behind her scuffed sneakers. Her hair was up in a lop-sided bun and she had traded her dress for a pair of jeans and an oversized band t-shirt. And why was his mouth filling with saliva? She threw her arms around him in a hug that he quickly reciprocated, squeezing her around the middle as she laughed lightly in his ear. “It’s good to see you. I see you kept the facial hair.”

He laughed and scrubbed a hand over his patchy beard and mustache. “Yeah, I guess I did.” Pike cleared his throat, trying to not sound so smitten. “Where’re you heading now?”

“Home, thankfully. I’ve been go-go-go since I saw you last. It seems everyone wants to give works of art as presents this year. I’m kind of scared what Christmas is going to mean.”

He smiled, liking to know about her life, how she felt. “Been anywhere exciting?”

“Paris and Milan lose their charm after a while. But I finally got to go to Casablanca.” There was a near twinkle in her eye now. “I felt like I should’ve been running around in a trench and fedora, chain-smoking. God knows how many times I muttered ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid’ to myself like a loon.” She shook her head as she bit her lip. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m jetlagged.”

“It’s okay, really. I…I like it.”

She shoved at his shoulder with another laugh. “Careful. You’ll make me fall in love with you.”

“Would that be so bad?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them—something he usually did when he let his stupid, romantic heart take the lead.

She tilted her head as she looked at him with an almost shy smile playing on her lips. “No. No, I don’t think that’d be bad at all.” They looked at each other, each fighting a smile and stupid fluttering of their hearts for the near-stranger in front of them. She broke the little daydream by clearing her throat and glancing away for a moment. “And you? Been anywhere exciting?”

“Just Chicago. Had to lead some training. My flight’s been delayed for a couple hours. Hopefully, I’ll be out of here before midnight.”

“Well, if you’re looking for a good place to eat in this hellscape, I’d recommend the restaurant near C26. I’ve yet to get food poisoning from them—and the food’s pretty good, too.”

“You want to join me?” He asked, something optimistic blooming in his chest.

But her smile fell. “I wish I could. But my flight starts boarding soon.”

As if on cue, there was an announcement over the intercom. “Hello passengers and welcome to Flight 306 to New Orleans. Right now, we will start boarding with our group one passengers and active duty military in uniform.”

“That’s me,” she said with a sigh. “But it was good to see you, Marcus.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.

He squeezed her hand for a moment, keeping her still. “You know, I still don’t know your name.”

She paused and then laughed, a full-belly laugh that quickly had him laughing, too. “It’s-”

A passenger cart beeped as it zoomed by, carrying a few elderly women.

“Group one, you’re free to board. Group one,” the announcement seemed to echo in the terminal, overly loud on the old speakers.

He swore he saw her lips move. He did!

But then she was squeezing his fingers again and walking away.

The cherry blossoms were in bloom. Aside from the terrible crowds they brought and the overall mugginess that came with the season, it was one of the things he liked about living in DC. He was sitting on a bench and watching the wind blow through the trees, rustling the pink and white petals gently. His lunchbreak was ending soon and he’d have to get back to the office. The other agents had caught on about his “mysterious lady friend” when he’d finally arrived back from Chicago and had been ribbing him about it ever since. (“How did you not get her name already, Pike?!” A question for the ages.) He crumpled the wrapper from his sandwich and tossed it in the nearest bin, preparing to leave the park.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, just for a moment.

But when he opened them, she was standing in front of him like something out of his daydreams. She smiled at him before helping herself to the space beside him on the bench. “I was told you like this bench when the blossoms are in bloom.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Your fellow agents are very chatty, you know.”

“You came looking for me?”

“’Course. I was in town. The auction I need to attend isn’t until tonight and…yeah,” she trailed off, embarrassment coloring her tone as she looked away from him for a moment. “Yeah, I thought I’d see you.”

His smile was so big he was sure it was going to break his face. “I’m glad you did.” He reached out and curled his fingers around hers as they rested on the bench beside her legs.

Her smile was shy but she squeezed his fingers in return as she kept looking out over the cherry blossom trees. “It’s pretty here. I’d love to wake up and just see this.” She waved her free hand toward the blossoms.

“Well, it happens every year. You can come back.” Or you could stay, his traitorous, lovesick heart whispered. But no, he wouldn’t say that. No yet, at least. He could take this slow.

But then she kissed him, quick and soft—he nearly missed it. And she was quickly leaning back against the bench, trying to school her features into indifference.

“What is your name?” He asked, question bursting forward.

She guffawed and pulled her hand back with an exaggerated flourish, fighting another smile. “I told you at the airport!”

“There-there was a transport honking and-and an intercom and then you left-!”

She cupped his cheek in her hand and the words died in his throat. She smiled again, fighting a laugh, and whispered her name.

He whispered it back, rolling the letters across his tongue carefully, pressing it into his mind to keep and hold.

He liked her name.

Part Two

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike imagine

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years ago

Text

New Pleasures

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC)

Side Pairings: Eijirou Kirishima x Nene Date (OC), Seijirou Eguchi (OC) x Dokuji (Doey) Kobayashi (OC)

Story Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff / Romance / Domestic / Humor / Some angsty things

Story Warnings: Cursing, sex (vaginal and anal via pegging), foreplay (oral via blowjobs, face sitting, and rimming), alcohol consumption, sex toy use and discussion, lots of references to anxiety and self confidence issues

Koge has always had a fantasy about taking more control during sex and, to be blunt, fucking her dear husband with a strap-on. Bakugou, however, is hesitant, though he works through his issues with the kink to create a new and enjoyable adventure for them both.

Art in banner is by me. You can see the full unedited version on my Twitter ( @hvalrossnoodlez ) IT IS AN 18+ ONLY ACCOUNT AND I BLOCK MINORS IF I CATCH YOU

“Why do you get so embarrassed? It’s just a little adult conversation, honestly-”

“How is talking about the way we fuck a normal conversation?!”

“That isn’t at all what I asked! I just made a comment that you should experiment a little, that’s all.”

“It’s none of your business, Eguchi.”

Koge sighed quietly as she glanced between the two bickering men, one being her husband beside her and the other being her mentor, who was really more like a part of their family at this point more than her boss. Sure, if they were just close business wise, this would be completely inappropriate, but he was truly more like a brother to her than anything else at this point in their adult lives. Besides, this hadn’t even started out as a raunchy conversation, anyway. Just a tease from Seijirou that Bakugou needed to get laid because he was so anxious and wound up is what started it, but the way he said it is what ticked Bakugou off.

“Let her do all the work for a change, a dildo in the ass won’t kill you.”

Oh, boy, was Koge’s first thought, and the bright red flushing of her lover’s ears and irritated snarl appeared faster than she could even think of what to say to calm him down. His retaliation was actually much calmer than she expected, probably reduced by the four glasses of whisky he had consumed up to this point, but she still had to place a hand tenderly on his thigh to remind him that they were in a public place and yelling about sex wasn’t a good idea. He kept a bit quiet due to her silent warning, but it was still just as aggressive as it would have been should he have let it all out.

Seijirou, though? There was nothing she could do about that. That man had a mouth sharp enough cut diamond, and if he wanted to say something, he was going to. Period. Even his lover had little to no influence, especially now since he was nose deep in his notebook writing away with no recognition of the conversation going on beside him. Koge envied him for being able to shut out everything around him, because now, she was the one stuck in the middle of this and would have to figure out how to get both men to drop it.

“I didn’t say it was my business! I just made a harmless comment. No need to be so uptight about it, there’s nothing wrong with it. And, from my personal experience-”

“I don’t need to hear about how good you think ass fucking is, okay?” Bakugou barked, silencing Seijirou with the simple growl of his voice. “If Utsuro wants to take over fine, she does all the time, but I draw a line with shit going up my ass.”

“Shit technically comes out of your ass,” Koge spoke softly as she sipped from her own glass of whisky, chancing a glance up at Bakugou as his glare turned down to her.

“Are you on his side?!”

Face flushing, Koge put her glass down, looking across the table at Seijirou before up at her husband. “Katsuki, I’ve tried to bring it up before, but you’re pretty, uhm… Against it. Though I think it would be fun.”

“Fun?! For you, maybe! Remember how long it took for you to even be ready to take a dick in the ass? We had to work on it for weeks.”

“But I’m really small compared to you, I don’t think it would be as hard for you as it was for me.”

With a heavy sigh, Bakugou rested his elbows on the table, rubbing his face with both hands vigorously in frustration. “Utsuro… Eguchi. It isn’t going to happen. And even if it did, your stupid ass would be the last to know.” Pointing an accusatory finger at Seijirou, Bakugou’s annoyance visibly spiked at the amused smirk on the older man's lips. “What the fuck is that face?!”

“It’s just funny that you think I don’t know every little thing about you. Your wife has to have someone to rant to and give her advice, you know. Do you need some advice, Bakugou? I’m an experienced man, I can help you in whatever you need!” Seijirou leaned back, letting his arm rest across the back of the booth behind his lover. “Isn’t that right, Doey?”

“Hm?” Dokuji barely picked up on the sound of his nickname, icy blue eyes tearing off his notebook to glance around the group. At first, his freckled nose scrunched up in confusion at the varying expressions on everyone’s faces, before sitting up to turn his full attention to Seijirou. “What? What are you fighting about, now?”

“I’m just saying that Bakugou needs to relax and let loose and letting Koge use a toy or two on him would be good for him. He doesn’t agree.”

“No, I don’t fucking agree!” Bakugou snapped, slumping down into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest as if he were a child throwing a tantrum. “It’s stupid!”

“Hm, no, I don’t see him doing that.” Dokuji picked up his drink, taking a few deep swallows of the light-colored beer before continuing. “It would absolutely damage his fragile ego.”

“Hey! Fuck you, carrot top! I don’t have a fragile ego! I just don’t want shit in my ass-”

“-But there’s already shit in your ass, Katsuki-”

“-Utsuro, your comments aren’t helping!” Bakugou took hold of Koge’s face in his hand, squishing her cheeks together to pucker out her lips in punishment. “This is your fault, you know! Telling him shit about us and that you want to do that!”

“He’s easy to talk to.” Koge spoke against the pressure on her cheeks, not at all perturbed by his retaliation or aggressive demeanor. “And I figured he’d be better to ask than anyone else, especially for that.”

“But that shit is between us!”

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I… I guess I shouldn’t have.” The visible upward furrowing of her brow had Bakugou’s grip loosening, her guilt at upsetting and embarrassing him so much becoming quite visible on her typically void expression. “I suppose… I mean… I guess I don’t have an excuse. It’s just a fantasy of mine I had always wanted to do, and I was hoping I could talk you into it eventually if I knew more about it. Sorry…”

With a heavy sigh, Bakugou released her face to instead run his fingers through her hair softly, giving her forehead a tender kiss in acceptance of her apology and a silent hint that they would talk about it later. Yes, Bakugou had known for many years that Koge had always wanted to really take control, to use toys on him and maybe even a strap, but the thought just… what did it do? How exactly did the thought of doing those things make him feel? Was he really disgusted by it or was he just embarrassed? Or was it really that his ego was too big to even allow Koge to completely dominate him like that?

Now he was just confused and feeling… selfish.

“It’s healthy, y’know.” Dokuji spoke up again, gaining the attention of the couple across the table. “For your relationship, to try things that one person wants but the other is a bit uncomfortable with. And it’ll open you up to something you might actually like, on top of like… bonding or whatever. Just take the dildo in the ass, man, don’t be a fucking coward.” How quickly his calm demeanor switched into annoyance had Koge and Seijirou almost cackling, both holding their breath as Bakugou nearly leaped over the table to strangle the redhead, slamming his hands on the table to rattle the glasses.

“Fuck off! It’s not about being a coward! You don’t fucking get it.”

“Oh no, I get it. I was like you before, completely ignorant to everything outside of traditional sex, but in my young rebellion I started acting out and experimenting to find out who I was attracted to really and what I liked, since I was so in the dark about myself. This prick opened my eyes to a lot of things,” In his reference to Seijirou, Dokuji reached up and flicked his lover on the nose, gaining an annoyed whine and smack of the hand in retaliation. “Because there was a lot I didn’t know and was scared of, or uncomfortable with, but now it’s like… fun. I guess. And not just sex, dude. Like… Even just keeping up my appearance and taking better care of myself.”

Huffing as a simple stroke along his back from Koge had him sitting back down normally, Bakugou’s glare bounced from Dokuji, to Seijirou rubbing his nose, to the half empty glass of whisky in front of him. Sure, this shit was making sense, but it still didn’t make him feel confident enough that he’d be able to pull it off without backing out. Would he do anything for Koge? Absolutely. He’d die for her. But her fucking him with a strap was… difficult for him to agree to.

“It’s okay, Katsuki.” Koge spoke up softly after a while of silence, timidly taking his hand. “Don’t stress about it. I won’t bring it up again.”

Resting his elbow on the table, Bakugou hid his face in his free hand, rubbing his flushed skin and tired eyes as he let out a heavy sigh. “I just can’t think about this shit right now, Utsuro. It shouldn’t even be something we’re discussing in public. Knowing my luck, there’s a fucking reporter here or some shit and there will be an article out tomorrow about how I want to be fucked in the ass.”

“I doubt that, love.” Resting up against him, Koge laid her head on his shoulder, taking a sip from her drink while she avoided looking up at the men across from her. Although she was trying to hide it, she really did feel ashamed for this entire conversation happening, knowing she should never have talked about such private things with anyone in the first place. Even though she could hide it outwardly, her guilt and Bakugou’s embarrassment were palpable, bringing an awkward and deafening silence to the once talkative table of friends. It wasn’t long before they decided to part ways, with Seijirou and Dokuji taking a taxi home while Bakugou and Koge walked the couple of blocks back to their house.

Although they held hands and walked close together as always, the heavy awkwardness didn’t fade. In fact, it grew heavier and heavier with every step they took, until it felt like they were tied down by the ankles by the time they reached their front door. Neither of them really even made the move to unlock the door, standing there beside each other with fingers laced and gazes averted. There were many moments that Koge thought a sudden heavy intake of break would mean that he was going to speak, but each time there was only silence, until he finally pulled out his keys and unlocked the door.

They showered. They brushed their teeth. They got comfy in pajamas. They fluffed their pillows and settled into bed. And that was when Koge couldn’t take it anymore.

Since he was on his back with one arm resting up over his eyes, Koge slowly and sneakily cuddled in close, wiggling herself under his free arm to latch herself to his body. Tenderly, she kissed his cheek, trailing more down along his jawline and neck before she settled down against him.

“You still love me?”

“Yeah.”

With a delicate touch, Koge traced her fingers along a scar he had on his upper left pectoral, watching his chest move with his calm breathing. “I really am sorry, Katsuki…”

“It’s fine. Honestly, I can’t expect you to not talk to people about us, especially if you’re looking for advice. I do it, too. It’s hypocritical of me to be mad at you for that.”

“I just feel bad it got brought up like that and it made you so uncomfortable… But we don’t ever have to talk about it again if you’re against it. There’s always other things for us to do.”

“But you really want to… right?”

Falling silent, Koge nuzzled her face more into his skin, squeezing herself in as close as she could. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, speaking quietly. “It… doesn’t matter. Yes, I have a fantasy about it, but that’s all it has to be. I’m more than satisfied with where we are now and the other things that we could do one day.” Sitting up, she plopped down to sit onto his stomach, taking hold of both his hands to push his arms up above his head and finally reveal his face. Smiling, she placed kisses all across his flushed cheeks until he huffed with annoyance, bringing her to place a final one against his lips, releasing his hands to instead caress his cheeks. “But you know what I can’t believe?”

“What?” Bakugou’s hands fell down to rest on her bare thighs, slowly moving upwards to her hips. His hands against her skin were incredibly warm, and Koge couldn’t help but share another kiss with him with a soft hum in contentment.

“Mm… I can’t believe that we have this entire night and tomorrow morning all to ourselves, and we’re spending it sitting here like little awkward turtles.”

Bakugou chuckled softly, unable to help the smirk on his lips. “Are we? I didn’t notice. Let me fix that,” While one hand stayed firmly on her hip, the other came up to caress the back of her head, pulling her down into a more passionate and tender kiss. It was quick to deepen as all tension broke, every morsel of their souls immediately craving to be close to each other, as close as one could possibly get. Before either of them truly knew it, Koge had begun to sink her body down onto his erect cock, both of them sighing in unison as every inch of her was filled to the brim. At first, they found themselves just sitting there, soaking in the feeling of being so close with passionate kisses and tender touches that screamed how strong their love for each other was. Koge could have stayed like this forever with him, but a simple shifting of his leg had him pressing up into her core, and she couldn’t resist moving another second.

Sitting up from him, Koge began with a light grinding of her hips, her hands trailing down his torso and leaving light pink marks from the raking of her nails. Although it started out very slow and sensual, it wasn’t long before Koge became lost in the pleasure, digging her nails into skin as she rode him with vigor, moaning out freely and face flushed from ear to ear. As he let her take control, Bakugou had to admit that being under her like this was incredibly addicting, completely focused on doing what she could to pleasure them both.

If he did decide to try allowing her to live out her fantasy, is that what it would be like? Would it really still feel this good and be this enjoyable for the both of them? Could it really still be just as intimate of a moment, or would he feel too vulnerable? He knew that she would take care of him and allow him to take it all at his pace, but it was still such a foreign thought to him. On top of that, all the prepping and just… foreplay that would go into it all. It was so much-

“Katsuki?”

Koge’s voice and pause of her body pulled him out of his haze he hadn’t even realized he had been lost in, pulling his eyes off the random spot on her t-shirt he had been locked on to instead look up at her face. She gazed down at him with visible worry, her hands nervously clutching at the hem of her oversized shirt to fiddle with the fabric, and he immediately felt the pit of his stomach fall at the realization that he… wasn’t as hard as he had been.

Clearly having noticed that before anything else, Koge sat up a bit until he was no longer inside her, sitting back down on his bare stomach instead. In their silence, the palpable awkwardness returned, and so did the guilt that came to rest over Koge’s shoulders.

Swallowing hard, Bakugou gave a small shake of his head, glancing everywhere he could in the dark room but at her. “I don’t know what happened, Utsuro, I… My mind wandered.”

“Did you… not want me on top? Is that bothering you right now?” Her voice was barely a whisper, fighting back a burning in her senses that bubbled with her frustration and confusion. “Or are you… actually upset with me?”

“No, no! I’m not upset with you!” Bakugou sat up, carefully shifting her from sitting on his stomach to instead on his lap. “I just got lost in thought. I’m alright, Utsuro. We can keep-”

“-No, Katsuki, it’s okay.” Koge avoided holding onto him even as he put his arms around her body, her hands still clutching at her shirt and head hung. “I should have guessed that you wouldn’t really be in the mood after all that. I didn’t mean to pressure you again.”

“You haven’t pressured me into anything.” Cupping her cheeks, Bakugou urged her to look up at him, stroking her skin with his thumbs softly. “Koge it’s not that.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was just excited to have a night alone after so long. I hadn’t wanted to spend it all upset, I thought that I could help you feel better if I… I shouldn’t have been on top. I just wanted you to relax.”

Frowning, Bakugou sighed heavily, resting his forehead against hers tenderly. “I had just started thinking… I don’t know where my mind was… It’s not your fault.”

“Bedtime?”

The question was soft, with only a timid glance up into his gaze as she kept hers mostly downcast, the disappointment and regret visible on her from head to toe. With this cut off of the issue, Bakugou knew that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of her about it right now, but he also knew that he had majorly fucked up. Him going soft in the middle of sex was a very rare occasion and only happened usually when he was just too tired, but this was different. No, his thoughts had actually made him uninterested in her and in sex in general right at that moment, and his body reacted exactly how he had expected it to. But how could he tell her that? It would hurt her feelings more than he already had, and at this rate, he was going to have to try very hard in the morning just to get her to look at him.

Running his fingers through her hair softly, Bakugou gave a small shrug, kissing her forehead before replying. “If you want. But on one condition.”

“Hm?”

“You let me hold you. And give me one more kiss goodnight.”

Koge spared him a small glance and a miniscule nod after a moment of silence, allowing him to carefully scoop her up and lay them down on their sides where he promptly cuddled her in close to him. The position gave her no choice but to reciprocate, her arm slipping around his torso and legs intertwining with his, and though she was very obviously still upset, she clutched onto him like she was scared he would leave. Instead, he only held her closer, kissing her forehead before receiving that final promised kiss to the lips that she allowed to linger.

“You still love me, Utsuro?”

The repeat of the same question she had asked him earlier had Koge’s face flushing, her eyes immediately tearing up with all the frustrations she had been trying to keep down, forcing her to sniffle as she tried to hold it all back. “Yes… Always.”

“Good. Get some sleep, baby. We can talk about this more in the morning if you want.”

They didn’t.

In fact, with the first lights of sun through the blinds of the lazy morning, the couple found themselves completely entangled in each other, spending the few hours they had alternating between cuddling, falling back asleep, talking, and making love. What happened the previous night, both the conversation at the bar and while they were in bed, never came up again, even though Bakugou always expected it to. It was on the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t help but think about it all, and he knew that if he was thinking of it, she was, too. But she had promised to never bring it up again, and she didn’t. Not the rest of the day. Not for a few weeks after. Not even when Seijirou brought it up again later that month.

But Bakugou couldn’t get it out of his head, and more than anything, he found himself… curious. He knew that ‘pegging’, as he learned it was called, was actually a very popular thing. He was surprised he hadn’t heard more about it in his adult life, or even his adolescence when exploring his blossoming sexual desires on the internet was at its peak. Toys for men, sure, but letting his wife use a strap on him? It was… intimidating, and Bakugou was never one to get easily intimidated by anything. Even still, this kink wasn’t really all that scary. The couple had done much worse, even including knives, risky breath play, tight bondage, and real injury often coming out of it all with bites, bruises, and scratches. There was one clear definition, though.

It was all things that he did to her. Yes, he would often come out of a session with scratched up skin and a bruise or two where she would bite him in the midst of it all. Yes, she enjoyed it and wanted those harder sessions frequently and she never complained about it. But her, having any significant dominance over him? Never.

And he suddenly felt very selfish for it.

Koge had told him before about her fantasies and desires to be more dominant, to tie him up for once and tease him with toys and her body alike. ‘Eventually’, he would tell her, or otherwise just make some type of joke that she wouldn’t be able to handle him like that for long before she begged for him to take over. It had always been a joke to him because he knew that it would never happen. He was too dominant of a personality over her, so much larger in body size and strength that she just wouldn’t be able to push him around like she thought she could.

Not to mention that it scared him to allow it to happen.

Bakugou had always hoped that awful nagging in the back of his mind would vanish completely one day. That little voice that always told him to be bigger, be better, to take and want control, to never let or accept it when anyone put him down. It had gotten better over the years, but it was still there. He found that he just couldn’t let it happen, however subconsciously, and he was putting her down every time he did. It truly was his selfish need to hold on to that control keeping him back, no matter how much he wanted to believe it was something else.

Koge had no negative intentions, he knew that. She would never do something that truly upset him, and she would stop if he asked her to. All she wanted was a chance to live out a fantasy that she had rather than something mutual they shared. She had let him do things she was uncomfortable with at first, and every time it ended up becoming a frequent occurrence to their love making. In the end, there was no fear or excuse he could make up to explain himself of why he couldn’t do what she wanted. It was just selfishness.

If he was going to go through with this, then he needed advice. A nameless person describing and giving information on a blog was hardly helpful, especially when the opinions and tips tend to be different as he hopped along the endless links and websites. No, he needed serious advice, from someone close to him that he knew had experience with these things, or at least… some type of experience when it came to getting fucked in the ass.

One morning, Koge proclaimed that she was going to go shopping with her best friend Nene for the day, leaving him to his own devices. This was the perfect chance to see if he could gather those chosen to help him figure out what to do, since his best friend was married to Nene and had the day off from hero work, just as Bakugou did. The other person he knew wouldn’t put up much of a fight. If anything, his partner would, but there was no chance in hell that Bakugou was seeking help from the man that belittled and berated him about it in the first place.

me 2:09 pm: hey. you two free today?

Kirishima 2:10 pm: Hey, bro! Yeah man, Nene is off with Koge today.

Kirishima 2:10 pm: Wait you know that.

Kirishima 2:10 pm: How did you know I was off??? Did I tell you???

Kirishima 2:10 pm: Oh, I did.

Kirishima 2:10 pm: LOL

Doey 2:11 pm: am i rlly in a txt group with blasty and hardhead rn?

Doey 2:11 pm: also ffs you txt like a hyperactive girl.

Kirishima 2:12 pm: Wait

Kirishima 2:12 pm: Dokuji????

Doey 2:13 pm: i hate it here. what do u need.

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Bakugou leaned back against the couch, rubbing his temple as he glared at the text messages scrolling by with Kirishima’s incessant multi texts and Dokuji’s snide remarks. For a moment, he thought about backing out, but the gnawing feeling of guilt made him press on.

me 2:15 pm: shut up. i asked if you were free.

Doey 2:15 pm: yeah and i said what do u need.

Kirishima 2:15 pm: Totally free!!!

me 2:16 pm: i need help with something and you two are going to help me.

Doey 2:17 pm: u have a stick up ur ass or something, dude? ffs just ask.

Doey 2:17 pm: o wait. wait. wait. you dont yet, yeah?

Kirishima 2:18 pm: Do what now???

me 2:19 pm: just come over at 5!!! fuck, i just need some help.

Doey 2:20 pm: k

Kirishima 2:20 pm: No worries, man!

Kirishima 2:20 pm: I’ll be there!

…

“Just let her shove it up your ass, dude. No lube. No prep. Just mmph- jam that shit up in there.”

“I’m not that fucking ignorant, Carrot. I know the prep it takes, we did it with her, but I don’t know the… if it’s the same.”

“Yeah, dude, it just goes in your ass, it’s not a big deal. You’re such a priss.”

With a frustrated, heavy sigh, Bakugou slumped down into his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep himself calm. Dokuji was doing very little to actually help in this situation, and Kirishima wasn’t much better. ‘Just go for it’ wasn’t something he could realistically accept. He needed to know the process, to understand it from a male perspective, but both of his friends were either not getting what he wanted to know, or just refused to tell him to fluster him further. “I get the whole point. I get that the fucking thing goes in my ass. I want to know where to start, you fucking dickwad.”

“By shoving stuff up your ass, man! Do you still have the toys you used to train Koge? Use the same ones.” Dokuji pulled his legs up onto the couch, crossing them comfortably and leaving his slippers on the floor. “You’ll still want to start small, even if you’re like… three times the size of her.”

“Nene and I started with just fingers and stuff during foreplay,” Kirishima finally spoke up after a while of embarrassed silence. “And we just moved on to bigger and bigger toys after a while. Took like… three months to get to a decent strap on size. But I also did some training on my own when I’d… y’know.” Clearing his throat, he sipped nervously from the glass of wine Bakugou had offered him, timid crimson gaze flashing between the two other men without making eye contact. “You have to do a lot on your own.”

“Finding time to myself is a problem. I rarely need to jack off, anyway. Koge always wants to fuck, so if I’m horny, she’s all over me.” Taking a sip from his own glass of wine, Bakugou stretched his long legs out in front of him, his aching knees popping. “I wouldn’t even have the time to if I needed to. If I’m not here, I’m at work. And if I’m here, Koge’s here.”

Dokuji gave a yawn, leaning his head back. “Make time. In the shower is the best, really, I doubt she joins you every time.”

“She would if I let her, but she knows I need my space, too. Just like she needs hers. I just know that she’s going to catch on… She’s too intuitive.”

“Oh, you aren’t going to tell her you're prepping for it? What, you just want to surprise her one day?” Dokuji smirked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Just lay on the bed, displayed for her with a plug in your ass? Candles lit, rose petals-”

“-Okay, shut the fuck up-”

“-wine, lube, soft jazz-”

“-Carrot-!”

“-oh no wait, you’d rather have heavy metal, right?! So she can really pound you-”

“-Alright, I get it!” Bakugou finally barked, glaring daggers at the snarky older man. “Not telling her is stupid! But I don’t want her to expect it!”

“Why don’t you want to tell her?” Kirishima asked curiously, taking a quick glance at his phone as he received a text, the alert a soft ding that vibrated through the room. “Are you embarrassed to? Or you really just want to surprise her?”

“I just know that she’d try to talk me out of it, now. Or she’d feel like she guilted me into doing it, and then she wouldn’t enjoy it. Surprising her would be more fun, for her. That’s the whole point of this. Also, I’d rather try to hide it just in case it’s something that I end up not being able to do… I don’t want to get her hopes up just to bail.”

Kirishima gave a soft hum in understanding, rubbing his chin as he thought. “True… You’ll just have to find time to prep and practice without her around.”

“I hardly even know where to start, though.”

Suddenly, Dokuji stood, beginning to make his way up the stairs to the second floor of the home. With a click of his tongue, Bakugou stood as well, placing his glass of wine and phone down on the coffee table at his knees. “Excuse me, where the fuck are you going?”

“To find your fucking stash! You want to know how to start, I have to see what you have!” Dokuji huffed as he continued up the stairs and around the corner before Bakugou could even take his first step, though the blonde was quick to leap two steps at a time to catch up the instant Dokuji finished with his proclamation.

“Hey, wait, Carrot! You can’t just go dig around in my fucking house!”

“I’m not! I knew you were going to follow me, so hurry the fuck up!” Dokuji glowered at Bakugou as he waited at the entrance to the master bedroom, being respectful enough to not go in. “Show the goods.”

Glancing behind him as Kirishima joined them, Bakugou felt heat spread from his ears across his cheeks, starting to feel that nervous nausea beginning to build up in his stomach. Was he really about to discuss sex toys with his friends? The thought of digging through and picking what toys he should use from Koge’s stash was horrifically embarrassing, but he knew that if he didn’t have their help, he may end up too ambitious and ruin any chances of success he had. So, with a deep breath and a hard swallow to keep down the vomit, he headed into his bedroom, allowing the other two to follow him in. “Just… stay by the bed, I’ll bring them out.”

“All of them.” Dokuji reiterated, meandering around the room as he looked around curiously in wait while Bakugou shuffled into the walk-in closet. Though, little did he know that there were too many for Bakugou to just carry. So, the blonde dumped out a dirty laundry bin on the floor for the meantime, placing the toys inside it from the drawer they had been hidden in. He was a bit too ambitious with his scooping and dumping, accidentally startling himself as one turned onto a high vibration and he had to rush to turn it off, feeling his face flush once again at the amused scoff from the bedroom.

Once sure he had them all, he carried the basket back into the bedroom, placing it on the bed and allowing the two other men to come look at the contents. Dokuji gave a click of his tongue, starting to dig through them to find the ones he thought would be appropriate. “Fuck, most of these are anal toys already. This rivals Seiji’s collection. Actually, some of these are the same!”

“Kook probably suggested some to her.”

“I don’t doubt it. Okay, man, here’s the deal. When doing this on yourself, don’t use shit like this.” Dokuji held up a gel silicone dildo that had no base, wiggling it a bit to emphasize his point. “With all the lube you have to use, you’ll lose it up your ass. And believe me, that’s not a fun ER visit.” He tossed it to the side, along with others that were similar to it. “Avoid these bead things.” More tossed to the side. “This is like a g-spot toy, fuck that. Fuck that, too. You’ll never get to that size, fuck that one.” With each one tossed to the side, Bakugou grew more and more irritated, wishing that Dokuji would just pick out the ones that would be good instead of going over what was bad. But, before he could retort, Dokuji finally grabbed a couple of small beginner metal anal toys that they had first used with Koge.

“Here! These fucking things. Though, they’re almost about as wide as your fucking sausage fingers, so maybe you can just finger yourself instead if you’re scared of these.” He put down the set of toys, tapping on one a few times to focus on it. “Though this plug would be good for training. Wear it during the day when you know you’re going to practice that day. Eventually, you can work yourself up in size. Here,” He dug through the collection again, finding a variety of anal plug sizes and setting them out in order. “I’d work yourself up to at least being able to handle this size before you let her use anything on you.”

“Leave it in…? For hours?” Bakugou’s nose scrunched in annoyance, unsure he could function with something in his ass like that for hours. “I mean… Koge did it, but I didn’t think that was so much of a requirement.”

“Don’t puss out, it’s not that bad. It’s not like a constant pleasure type of thing. Yeah, you feel it, but if you aren’t turned on, it doesn’t affect you. I mean, yeah, it can turn you on feeling it, but just don’t until you’re ready, y’know?”

“That makes no fucking sense…” Bakugou looked over at Kirishima for some type of emotional support, though Kirishima just nodded in agreement with Dokuji.

“You gotta do it, man. I mean… I even went to work with it and stuff. Like if you know that’s gonna be a part of your night, it’s actually kind of hot to wear it all day. It’s exciting, and Nene goes crazy for it!”

“And what size are you at?”

“That big one.” Kirishima gestured to the largest size of plug. “Nene uses that size of dildo on me. The one that Doey said you’d never get to? Yeah, that one.”

“Tch… and you’ve been doing this shit for, what? How long?”

“Uhmmm I think like five or six years, man. We don’t do it all the time, and it started out with her just sticking a finger in my ass one night, and it was like wow, y’know? Like boom, fireworks in my gut.”

“I just don’t see how it could feel good…” Bakugou grumbled as he picked up a different toy that Dokuji had sectioned off as appropriate for use, one which he and Koge used very early on during her journey so that she could have the feeling of double penetration. “Even for Koge, I don’t get it, but she gets off on anal way more than regular sex most of the time.”

“We have a little thing in our ass called a prostate. It’s kind of like a woman's g-spot. I guess.” Dokuji rubbed the back of his head, glancing over his selected toys to see if they were appropriate for him to suggest. “It’s like… I don’t fucking know how to describe it. If you don’t do shit right, it can hurt, so just take your time, use more lube than you think you need, and listen to your body. If shit feels off, then stop. But yeah, work your way up in size for these toys here. Clean the shit out of them when you’re done, and then do whatever you want to hide the fact that you’re using them from Koge.”

“How often should I be practicing?”

“Any time you jerk off. At least a few times a week, though it also just depends on how fast you want to get to the fun stuff, man. Also how your body reacts to it all. Maybe you already have a loose asshole, who knows.”

Face flushing, Bakugou scoffed as he began to pile the toys back into the laundry basket to return them to the drawer, though he did make a strong mental note of the specific toys and order that Dokuji had laid out for him. “Whatever. Anything else?”

“What type of lube do you use?”

“We don’t even have any right now…”

“Huh? Koge does anal and you don’t have lube? The fuck is wrong with you two, masochists-”

“It’s not that! The woman is like a fucking waterfall, she doesn’t need it. Kirishima, does Nene need it?!”

“Oh, Nene won’t do anal.” Kirishima shook his head, cheeks growing pink with the sudden question. “She has this weird thing about being on the receiving end of that. Something about not wanting to have to use diapers when she’s an old woman?” Brow furrowing, Kirishima rubbed the back of his head. “Hopefully that doesn’t happen…”

“It’s not going to happen unless you constantly use huge dildos. And by huge, I mean fucking four plus inches in thickness. You’re fine, man.” With an amused chuckle, Dokuji gave Kirishima a firm pat on the shoulder before he began to leave the room, calling out loud enough for Bakugou to hear as he headed down the hallway. “Get some lube made for anal! Not the numbing shit, though! I’ll text you a brand I recommend once I remember what the fuck it is.”

Slowly shuffling out of the closet once he was done putting the toys away, Bakugou rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, barely able to keep eye contact with Kirishima before he felt a rush of embarrassment and had to look away. With a cough to clear his throat, he shoved his hands into his sweatpants pockets, fighting against the awkwardness that he knew he was the only one experiencing. “Thanks. I know this is fucking stupid.”

“It’s not stupid!” Kirishima grinned, his sharp teeth and bright smile enough to lighten any mood. “I wish I had someone to talk to when I first started with Nene! It’s intimidating, but it’s awesome that you’re doing this for her. I think you’ll both enjoy it more than you think.”

“It just makes me feel vulnerable in a… weird way.”

“It’s just Koge. I’m sure she’s seen you in way more vulnerable situations, and she won’t take advantage of you or anything weird like that. Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure…”

“Don’t do doggy.” Kirishima held up a finger as he spoke, as if he were giving an important life lesson or lecture. “That’s a really vulnerable feeling position. You’re too… big of a dude to ride her, technically, and you shouldn’t do that your first time anyway. So stick with missionary. You can at least see her that way. It’s more intimate.”

Bakugou felt the fire of his face grow hotter the longer Kirishima spoke, until his ears were burning, and his eyes began to ache. Just the thought of any of it made him want to crawl under his covers and hide, his chest aching with the anxiety of it all. Still, all of this information he gained was extremely helpful and guided him in the right direction, and he wasn’t sure he’d feel confident enough to go through with it without his friends' support. So, he gave Kirishima a strong pat on the arm, before using little pressure to direct his friend out of the bedroom.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Sure! Anything you need, just let me know-”

“Uncle Doey?! Why are you here?!”

The sudden loud racket in the living room immediately made Bakugou almost lose his lunch, hearing the soft voice of his lover greeting Dokuji behind the multitude of children's voices. “Ah fuck, they’re home already.” As casually as he could without looking like he was rushing, Bakugou made his way down the stairs, doing everything in his power to swallow his embarrassment and restrain the fire beneath his skin. He caught Koge’s gaze immediately, giving her a small nod in greeting as she smiled at him.

“Having some boy time?” Struggling with many shopping bags hanging off her arms, Bakugou was quick to jog to her side and help, taking them from her and placing them off out of the way on the floor near the fireplace. “Thank you, love.”

“Sure, Utsuro. And yeah I just figured we’d… hang out for a bit while you were shopping.”

“Fun!”

Before he could say anything else, his daughter's voice caught his attention, looking over to watch Natsuki as she wandered around Dokuji, who was purposefully keeping his back to her.

“Uncle Doey, why are you here?! Is Uncle Seiji here? Did you bring me a gift?” The blonde four-year-old circled him, though Dokuji continued to playfully ignore her.

“What is that buzzing sound? I hear a little gnat or something. Matsuki, do you hear it?” Dokuji turned his attention to the young blonde boy that was the spitting image of Bakugou, doing his best to restrain a laugh as Natsuki tried to wave her arms to get his attention. Matsuki, who was currently pulling books out of a bag, gave a shy smile and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s been happening all day. Just a weird buzzing sound.”

“It is weird. Where’s the little bug?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Natsuki finally snatched onto his hand, tugging eagerly. The instant she grabbed him, Dokuji took hold of her hand and yoinked her up into the air, making her squeal and burst out with laughter, clambering to take hold of him as he swung her around to sit up on his shoulders.

“Ah, there’s the bug! How’s it going, squirt?”

“Uncle Doey, you’re so mean, pretending I wasn’t there!” Natsuki wrapped her arms around his head, shoving her face into his feathery orange hair. “So mean! I missed you!”

“I missed you, too, kiddo. So what did you go do today? Looks like you spent a lot of money.”

“It wasn’t my money, silly! It’s Daddy’s money!”

Dokuji couldn’t help but to laugh, moving to sit on the couch with the little girl still latched to his head. “Oh man, Bakugou, she’s a hoot. Better check your bank account.”

Bakugou couldn’t help but give an amused scoff, though he did peer down at Koge as she immediately began to leak guilt. “You went over the budget, didn’t you?”

“N-not by much, no. But I bought winter clothes for me, you, and the kids! Matsuki needed new books to read and crafting supplies, and Natsuki was just begging for this and that. It just went over-” She was cut off as Bakugou cupped both her cheeks, leaning in to kiss her to silence to rambling to explain.

“I’m picking on you. I already knew you’d go over. It’s okay. You didn’t have to shop for me, though, I told you that.” Letting up on her face, he gave her another kiss, feeling exceptionally affectionate. “Thanks, though. I’m excited to see what you got.”

Koge smiled softly, stealing one more kiss before he released her. “I just saw some stuff I knew would look great on you; I couldn’t resist. On top of that, half your winter clothes don’t fit anymore ‘cause you just keep gaining muscle. You have to stop that.”

“I’d turn into flab if I stopped. And I’d probably get my ass kicked. It’s one or the other, babe.”

“Just keep your cute butt, it’s fine. Oh, I also got your new set of reading glasses that you needed.”

“What?!” Kirishima spoke up from across the room, standing next to his wife with his twin children hanging off his impressive biceps. “Bakugou, you wear glasses already?!”

Face flushing, Bakugou stuttered as he snatched the small box Koge had pulled from a bag, immediately shoving it into his pocket to hide them. “Shut up! Only to read!”

“Daddy! You wear glasses, too!” Kirishima’s young daughter Otoha spoke up, dropping to the floor. “But only in the sun!” Chuckling, Kirishima put his son Daiki down as well, allowing the twins to run off as Natsuki leaped off the back of the couch to chase them.

“Those are sunglasses, darlin’.”

“Oh shove it!” Bakugou snapped, storming off into the kitchen with his petite wife at his heels. “You jerks want more wine!?”

“Oh, Seijirou’s not here?” Koge stopped, looking back at Dokuji, who had his phone out. At the sound of his lover’s name, Dokuji looked up, a moment of confusion flashing across his face as he tried to figure out how to explain this without giving Bakugou away.

“Ah… he wasn’t up to it.”

“Really? How weird, I hope he’s okay.”

“I’m gonna head out, anyway.” Dokuji stood, immediately gaining protest from Natsuki as she ran back up to him to latch to his legs. “I was already out when I dropped by, so he’s probably wondering where I am, anyway. Natsu, I’ll see you next weekend, okay?” Squatting down, he gave the pouting little girl a hug, standing and heading towards the front door with her still latched to him. “It’s the last weekend before Uncle Seiji and I go to America. We’ll visit for sure.”

“Nooo, don’t go away! That’ll be forever!”

“We’re just going to be in America for a few months, squirt. And we’re bringing back a big surprise. Remember?”

“Serina?”

“That’s right.” Dokuji smiled softly as he sat Natsuki down, ruffling her wild blonde hair as he shoved his feet back into his boots without lacing them. “We’re bringing Serina home. Uncle Seiji and I have to finalize her adoption papers and wait for her to be old enough before we can bring her on a plane.” As Bakugou approached, Dokuji shoved his wallet and keys into his baggy pant pockets, looking up at him curiously.

“Let us know if you need anything before you head out. You good?”

“Yeah man, no worries. I hope I was helpful.”

“You were, even if you were a smartass. We’ll see you next weekend. Don’t tell Eguchi about this, I don’t think I’ll ever live it down.”

“My lips are sealed until yours aren’t. Later,” An informal bow, a wave to the rest of the people in the house, and a final goodbye to Natsuki was shared before Dokuji left, leaving Bakugou to shut and lock the door behind him. After shooing his daughter away from the front door, Bakugou immediately caught Koge’s gaze, his face flaring up again with fire at the reminder of everything that had been discussed that day. Seeming to notice, Koge gave a small nod for him to follow her into the kitchen, which brought that feeling of vomiting back to his gut. He had to hide all of this from her for now, no matter how guilty that made him feel. But he also knew that Koge would be able to read him like a book if he didn’t get control of himself.

Once alone with his wife in the kitchen, he decided to busy himself with fetching a fresh bottle of wine from the rack, grabbing two clean glasses for Koge and Nene as well. “What’s up, Utsuro?”

Arms crossed over her chest, Koge leaned back against the kitchen island, watching him closely. “You had some boy time, huh?”

“Yeah, we just sat around and talked for a while. Why?”

“Nothing. It’s just interesting that Dokuji came without Seijirou. Usually they’re attached at the hip, and Dokuji hates socializing. Did something happen, or is something wrong?”

Waiting to answer until he pulled the cork out of the bottle successfully, Bakugou put the trash and corkscrew aside, pouring equal amounts of wine into the glasses. “There’s nothing wrong, Utsuro. I invited Dokuji to bring Eguchi if he wanted, but he said he didn’t want to. Eguchi and I have trouble getting along, anyway, if you’re not around… I can see why he didn’t.”

“That’s not true. You two get along better than you think.” Making her way to stand next to him, Koge slipped her arm around his waist, resting up against his side as his arm tucked her in close. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was fine. I can’t believe you spilled about my glasses, though.” Glowering down at her, he gave her a good squeeze in punishment, forcing a giggle from her lips. He hoped to change the subject so she wouldn’t pry, and he seemed successful right off the bat.

“Sorry! I thought you would have told Eijirou already. Don’t be embarrassed, love, it’s okay.” Turning to face him completely, she cupped both of his cheeks, stroking his burning skin with her chilled thumbs. “You look so cute with glasses. Very distinguished.”

“They make me look like my dad…” Grumbling under his breath, Bakugou placed one of his hands over hers, turning his head to place tender kisses across her palm and fingers. “Mmm… what’s this lotion smell?”

“It’s like a citrus thing. I couldn’t resist it after trying it on, so I bought some. You like it?”

Slipping his hand around her waist, Bakugou pulled the petite woman up against him, his lips continuing his affections down her arm. “Smells good. I think I need to lather you up in that sometime.”

“Ooh, like a sexy rub down?”

“Yeah, baby. Full body.” He released her hand to put both his arms around her, caressing her small body and urging her up into a kiss. Koge sighed softly against his lips in happiness from the affection, holding onto him tightly as he nearly lifted her up off her feet. He wanted her so badly in that moment, to soak in her affection and have his frustrated thoughts crushed under the happiness being with her brought him. But, nothing affectionate could last in a house full of children, and he was forced to release her at the sound of his daughter screeching for him.

“Daddy! Daddy?! Are you in the kitchen?!”

Setting his wife down, Bakugou got one last peck out of her before setting her free, looking over at the entrance to the kitchen as his daughter bounced in, her spiked pale blonde hair perfectly matching the wild look on her face. The instant her crimson eyes landed on him, Natsuki dashed over, quickly followed by Matsuki and Kirishima’s two children. Although Bakugou knew exactly what was going to be requested, he decided to ask anyway, ruffling the top of his daughter’s hair as she came up to him.

“What’s up, squid?”

“Daddy, can you make us a snack? Like, a yummy snack. A pizza!”

“Pizza isn’t a snack, that’s dinner. Are you hungry for dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah! Pizza!”

Seeing Kirishima and Nene come in to join the group, Bakugou turned his attention to them, ignoring the feeling of Natsuki swinging his arm back and forth as she waited for her answer. “Would you like to join us?”

“Sure!” Nene smiled happily, plopping down to sit on a bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island. “We haven’t had a full family hang out like this in a while!”

“But first,” Kirishima stood behind her, one arm around her body while he leaned forward, propping himself up with his elbow on the countertop. “You gotta put on your glasses, man, I can’t take the unknown!”

“Daddy is so cute with his glasses!” Natsuki giggled at the immediate glare Bakugou shot her way, sticking her tongue out at him as she went deadweight, swaying back and forth with only her grip on his hand to keep her up. “He actually looks smart!”

“‘Actually’? Are you saying I look dumb otherwise?” Bakugou picked her up, holding the giggling and snickering child by the arm up near his chest. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah! Daddy’s got a dumb face- pfft, hey! No!” Immediately with the insult, Bakugou flipped her in the air and snatched her by the legs so that she was upside down. “Daddy! You’re gonna make me dizzy!” Although she complained, she giggled and cackled as Bakugou walked her over to the refrigerator, guiding her to open it and grab a bottle of juice for the kids to enjoy. “Yay, melon juice! That’s a treat! Can I drink it upside down?”

“No, you goof, you’ll spill it. Here, put it on the counter.”

Once four child sized cups and a bag of chips was gathered in the same upside-down manner, Bakugou held Natsuki up high enough to give her a punishing kiss on the cheek before plopping her back down to stand normally on her feet.

“Alright,” Bakugou began, opening the bottle of juice and catching the gaze of his lover nearby, who was already holding the phone up to her ear to order the demanded pizza. “Let’s get this party started, eh?”

…

“A-ah, fuck-!” Bakugou bit down on his bottom lip, pressing his forehead into the cool tile of the shower wall, eyes shut tightly as he did everything he could to keep his voice down. With one leg propped up on the seat they had built into the shower long ago, he kept his gaze locked onto his thigh, watching the warm water that cascaded down his back dribble and gather around his foot, doing all he could to focus. The pleasure made that incredibly difficult, one hand pumping his erect cock while the other was reached around behind him, two fingers plunging in and out of his asshole eagerly. Two months into preparing and practicing to allow Koge to use a strap on him had passed, and he had gotten to the point where he actually enjoyed the pleasure he gained from anal stimulation.

Could he cum from it alone? No, he wasn’t quite there yet, but it did enhance it all for him in a way that he couldn’t really describe. Whatever sensitive little spot there was inside him really did drive him mad, and he would even get hard just thinking about it. He had also come to realize that going a normal day with an anal plug was not as easy as his friends had made it out to be, and that part of his training had been the most frustrating and difficult. But, it was effective, and Bakugou had gotten to where he could take at least a one and a half inch in width dildo comfortably. With the success of cumming with that, he knew that it was time to get Koge in on this, which is exactly what he was prepping for now.

He had done the whole deal that Kirishima had talked to him about all day, from wearing a plug most of the day to masturbating at least a little bit before to loosen his body up. The kids were bummed off on his parents, so he didn’t have to worry about that, and Koge was waiting patiently in their bedroom, reading or doing who knows what. From what he could tell, she didn’t suspect anything, but he hoped that he could pull off being just his regular self-up until the very moment he decided to bring it up. He wanted to at least get them going, to pleasure her and get her all riled up so that she would want to do it.

As he grew closer to his peak in the shower, just the thought of her using a strap on him brought on a new tingling under his skin, an excitement that he hadn’t experienced yet and that was so different from his initial thoughts about this so many months ago. His fear had blossomed into anticipation, and what he was so against before was something he now craved. He wanted so badly to do this with her, and he just hoped that it wouldn’t end up an awful or awkward experience.

Clamping his teeth together and eyes shut tightly, it took all his willpower to not moan out as he finally came, the release so intense that his entire body felt weak in the few seconds afterwards. Fuck that feels good… It’ll be so intense with her doing it. Ugh, stop thinking about it, you idiot, you’ll get hard again too soon! That’s what I get for not fucking her on purpose the past few days, too, I guess. I just hope she’s as horny as I am. Pushing himself up to stand up straight, Bakugou finished up his very thorough shower and cleaned up the tile wall, doing everything he could to not think about Koge’s body or the pleasure he was hoping for.

It didn’t help that the petite woman sitting on their bed was already practically naked, sitting within the puffy mess of pillows and blankets in nothing but her favorite silk nightgown. Very engrossed in whatever book she was reading, Bakugou took it upon himself to get her attention, grabbing a pillow and playfully whacking her with it hard enough to make her whine and topple over to the side, her book quickly abandoned in favor of trying to grab the pillow in his hands.

“Rude! I was reading.”

“Reading time is over, it’s time to pay attention to me.” His first pillow now out of commission, he simply grabbed another to smack her with, forcing giggles from her lips as she kicked her legs in defiance.

“There’s nicer ways to get attention!”

“But this is more fun.” Crawling up onto the bed, he began to pile the pillows on her body, unable to resist a smirk in amusement of her giggles. She was so adorable to him and he found himself just wanting to snatch onto her, but he didn’t have the chance as she exploded from the pile of pillows, tackling him down onto the bed with a war cry and expert skill. Her tiny frame was no match for him in such a battle, and he was easily able to roll them over and pin her beneath him, her arms held up over her head and legs fastened around his hips. She attempted to struggle and push him off with her feet against his hips, but found that she was no match for his brawny frame, a pout crossing her lips with her defeat.

“You’re too fat! I can’t wrestle with you anymore like when we were teenagers. I could even win sometimes! Now I can’t even get both my hands around your forearm.”

“That’s because you’re a little shrimp. My cute little shrimp.” His hands sliding up her arms, he let their fingers lace, placing tender kisses down the bridge of her flushed nose. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Cheeks flushing darker from the affection, Koge couldn’t resist her ear to ear smile, squeezing his hips playfully with her thighs. “You’re being so extra affectionate today. All day you’ve been so mushy! I love it.”

“Yeah? Well, you make it hard for me not to be.”

“I also just make you hard… apparently.” With a playful nuzzle of their noses, Koge rolled her hips up against his, stroking her exposed sex along the hard form of his cock beneath his boxers. “Hm?”

Smirk crossing his lips, Bakugou moved to hold both Kobe’s wrists in one hand, the other moving down to hold her hip to grind himself back against her. “Who could blame me?” A low groan rumbled in his chest as he rested his forehead against hers, merely teasing her with a hint of a kiss while his movements grew more eager. “You’re so fucking sexy in that little nightgown, and just the thought of getting to fuck you all day has been driving me crazy.”

“Well you have me now, Katsuki,” Each attempt she made to kiss him was fruitless as he continued to pull back every time, only making her more frustrated and push their grinding even further, until she was panting and gasping softly. “All to yourself. So why don’t you show me what you’ve been wanting?”

“No, baby,” Bakugou ran hot kisses and nibbles along her neck and jawline, releasing her arms to caress her entire small frame up against him tighter. “I want you to tell me what you want. To do what you want. Anything.” Catching her gaze, he saw surprise only for a moment before excitement took over, her mind immediately going to work to decide on what exactly it was she wanted. That guilt he had felt for being so selfish in their sexual endeavors creeped back upon him in that moment, but her eagerness was quick to pull him back as her hands slipped down between their bodies, freeing his cock from his boxers.

“I just want you inside me, Katsuki. I just want you to make me cum… please.”

“You don’t have to beg, Utsuro. I told you. Anything you want.” Once her hands were moved out of the way, Bakugou took the chance to sink his entire length into her, bringing a pleasured groan from his throat as Koge moaned. “Ah fuck..! You want to cum, baby? I’ll make you cum-“

“A-ah, yes! Yes!” Koge clutched onto him tightly, pleasure rocketing through her body with the rhythmic thrusting of his hips. The sweet squeaking of her voice as he dug himself deep into her core was enough to drive Bakugou mad, wanting to give her more just so he could hear her moan and scream louder for him. He wanted to do all of this for her, to give her anything she wanted, and her first orgasm was quick to clash into her like a violent wave. It came with nails in his skin, fingers clutching his hair and her body trembling and twitching against him, her voice praising him and soft lips against his ear. This woman was perfection, and he’d be damned if he left her unsatisfied or unhappy for a single moment.

Before her high could dissipate, he returned to rolling his hips in slower and softer motions, moving his lips back to hers as he dug his fingers into her hair. “You like that, babygirl? You want more?”

Struggling to speak between her moans, his kisses, and hitching breath, Koge kept her eyes locked with his, her nails raking down his sides to send ticklish and pleasured tingles across his skin. “K-Katsuki… You’ll do anything I want?”

“Anything.”

“I… Can I sit on your face? Please?”

“Don’t ask me.” Bakugou increased his efforts, slamming into her rougher to get his point across, sending her into a new round of moans with the eye rolling pleasure. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“Mm… I- I, a-ah-! I want…- Fu-fuck, fuck! Your cock feels so fucking good, I can’t think!”

Smirking against her lips, Bakugou took this opportunity to tease her a bit, sliding his hand under her head to grab a fist full of her hair. “You have to tell me, Utsuro, or I can’t stop. This is all you… So tell me.”

“I-I want to sit on your face! Please-!”

“-No begging-!”

“Now!” Koge clutched onto his cheeks, fighting through the pleasure to press her forehead into his and glare up at him in frustration. “Lay your ass down!”

“Mm fuck, that’s it, baby. You’re so sexy when you’re aggressive.” Bakugou kissed her passionately, stopping his movements to instead scoop her body up against his, maneuvering them to where he was laying on his back. Not a second passed that he was settled that Koge had shifted herself off his cock to instead straddle his head, steadying herself on the headboard of the bed. Bakugou took to eating her out immediately once her hips were in his grip, doing what he could to ignore the antsy twitching of his cock at the sound of her moans.

He had an idea of why she had chosen this exact position. Even though Bakugou truly did love eating her out, this was never particularly one of his favorite ways to do so, and they had talked about that many times. Koge, however, loved it, and he knew that it was more rare for her than what she would have liked. They compromised how they could, of course, and nearly every sexual endeavor they had involved him eating her out one way or another. But by choosing to do it this way, he knew that she was really testing him to see if he was being honest, and he was glad she was being so bold, especially with what his endgame was. He needed her to be bold and firm enough to either ask for the pegging, or to accept his request when he brings it up.

“K-Katsuki,” Koge spoke breathlessly, digging her fingers into his hair as she was unable to resist a slow rocking of her hips. “R-right there! Ah, fuck!” Her body began to tremble, his hands sliding up her body to grip and squeeze her breasts, pinching her sensitive nipples as he pleased. How turned on she had become was apparent by the incredible flow of her essence that coated his face, and when she finally came again, he couldn’t help but smirk at the feeling of it beginning to drip down the sides of his neck. This is exactly how he wanted her, so eager and consumed with pleasure that she would push him for the things she wanted. Her next demand came after a moment of resting to catch her breath, loosening the tight grip her thighs had on his head.

“When I move, put your arms up above your head and keep them there.” Carefully, Koge slipped backwards to sit on his chest, then his stomach, until she came to rest between his legs. Bakugou did as commanded, resting his arms under his head comfortably to watch her, though he couldn’t help a slight twinge of embarrassment as his boxers were stripped and flung away to the void that was their bedroom floor. He didn’t really know where the embarrassment came from. Maybe it was the glee in her gaze that made him feel flustered? It was obvious that she was excited, and he wanted to know exactly what was running through that clever head of hers.

With a firm touch, Koge took his aching cock into her hands, teasing his tip with her hot tongue and letting her saliva flow freely to stroke up and down his length with ease. Just this initial touch from her was enough to make him want to reach down and dig his fingers into her hair, but Bakugou did as he was told, keeping his arms in place as she pleasured him. Well, in truth, it was more like teasing, giving him only hints of true pleasure with every touch, lick, and kiss. It only made him ache more, and he couldn’t resist a light rising or bucking of his hips when it was too much, groaning and cursing in his frustration.

“Damn it, Utsuro…! That’s driving me fucking crazy!”

“Is it?” Koge smirked against his sensitive flesh, her hands squeezing and stroking slowly all the way up his shaft until right below his tip, before sliding back down to avoid his most pleasurable areas. Again, Bakugou couldn’t resist a frustrated grunt and shifting of his hips, now clutching on to the pillow beneath his head.

“Yes! You’re being a tease!”

“You were the one that said I could do whatever I wanted. Here, let’s do something different, then.” Gripping his legs behind his knees, Koge pushed up and back until his body was bent, immediately making Bakugou flush a bright red and shout out in surprise. “You’re so flexible, Katsuki! All that stretching and weird movements do you pay off.”

“U-Utsuro, what the fuck-”

“Hold your legs, pretty please?” Koge leaned over him, smiling slyly in pleasure at just how flustered Bakugou was becoming, and it only grew as he followed her direction to hold onto his legs to keep his body contorted how she wanted. He wasn’t quite used to having his dick so close to his face, or his entire body exposed in such a way, but he couldn’t protest. He had given her this chance, and even if it was different for him, it wasn’t something that he hated. He just needed to adjust and let it all happen, and the excited throbbing of his cock was confirmation enough that he wanted to let it happen.

“Hmmm, I’ve never had a view like this before.” Koge slipped one arm into an easy position so that she could continue to stroke his member, slowly and lightly pleasuring him as she trailed kisses and nibbles along the underside of his thigh. “You being so shy is cute, but you’re so sexy, Katsuki.” Within the same breath as her words, she ran her tongue along the form of his balls, sucking them into her mouth and increasing the tightness of her hand around his cock. Bakugou couldn’t resist the deep groan that rattled in his chest, though he found it difficult to keep a hold of his legs or stay in position, and he nearly crumbled into himself the instant her tongue slid across his asshole.

“Ah fuck, Utsuro-” Bakugou did what he could to control the nervous waiver of his voice, though he wasn’t as successful as he would have hoped. “Straight to it, eh?”

“Well I have a question for you.” Koge continued to tease his sensitive skin, from the base of his cock to his waiting hole, her fingers still pleasuring his straining cock. “I’ve noticed that some of my toys have been missing from my drawer for a while… And even some of my anal plugs. There’s even an unmarked bottle of liquid hidden under your sink in the bathroom. Did you really think you could hide it from me?”

Throat growing strangled from the confrontation, Bakugou couldn’t find it within himself to answer, though his embarrassed crimson gaze locking with hers was clearly enough of a confession as Koge’s lips curved into a smirk.

“Ah ha… I knew it. What a guilty look. I had thought at first that maybe you pulled them out to use on me. But when that never happened, I began to suspect something else… But I couldn’t ever be sure.” Slipping her hand between her legs, Koge coated it in her slick before running her delicate fingers around his sensitive hole. “And it’s extra clean down here, even for just taking a shower. You wanted me to want this, huh?” As two of her fingers slipped inside him, Bakugou couldn’t stop a sharp intake of breath, his cock twitching eagerly in her hand and face burning violently.

Even though her fingers were small, the pleasure of her moving them within him paired with the more rigorous stroking of his cock and new sucking on his balls brought forth a restrained moan, leaning his head back and doing what he could to push down the embarrassment to enjoy it. He had always been pretty vocal during sex, and those sounds pushed through the attempted restraint easily, especially as the pleasure grew. It felt so good, more than he had ever really expected, though when her fingers finally curved at just the right angle, he nearly lost it, releasing one of his legs to reach down and take hold of her head.

“S-stop! Wait-!”

Confused, Koge did as asked, removing her fingers from him in worry that she had hurt him. “What’s wrong? Did I do something that hurt you?”

“No-” Breathing heavily to catch his breath from the rush, Bakugou ran his fingers through her hair gently, leaning his head back and closing his eyes to ground himself. “No. I don’t want to cum yet.”

“It was that fast?”

“I just wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t expect it to feel so different with you doing it instead. I have something for you, anyway.” Reaching down between the mattress and headboard, Bakugou pulled out a plastic bag that held said surprise, shoving it towards her and dropping it into her waiting hands before he let himself bail on the entire thing. Immediately upon feeling the concealed item, Koge’s eyes lit up and her face flushed bright red, digging her nails into the plastic to rip it open instead of taking the extra time to undo the knot that held it closed.

The excited squeal that left her lips immediately had Bakugou covering his eyes with his arms, groaning in momentary regret, though it was drowned out by her excited rambling. “Katsuki! Are you serious? Are you sure? You’ve prepped this much? This one is nice, it’s double ended! Oh, and fancy lube! You really mean it-”

“-Of course I mean it!” Bakugou snapped to silence her, though he couldn’t find the confidence to remove his arms from over his face. “But you had better get on with it before I change my mind, or my boner goes away!”

“Neither is gonna happen.”

The sound of the bag being tossed away and the bed shifting as Koge sat up on her knees to put on the strap only increased Bakugou’s nervousness, closing his hands into tight fists as he struggled to even keep his quirk in check, which was a feeling he hadn’t had since high school. All the thoughts he had months ago came rushing back to him, making his stomach twist and head spin. It was time now, and there wasn’t any going back, not without absolutely crushing her.

I can take it. It’ll be fine. It’s just Koge. She won’t make me feel small or vulnerable. It’s fine-

“Katsuki.”

The soft and comforting sound of her voice pulled him back, bringing attention to the fact that he had been breathing quite heavily in his panic. Gathering himself, he moved his arms just enough to be able to peek up at her, the burning in his face somehow growing hotter just at the sight of her, strap in place and smiling down at him softly. She had removed her nightgown and was left mostly bare, her soft beauty bringing back those urges of pleasure in whatever way he could have her. Though, she surprised him as she held her hands out, wiggling her fingers to urge him to take them.

“Sit up, love.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Bakugou took Koge’s hands and sat up, sliding his hands up her arms as she moved to straddle his lap. Her delicate touch sent tingles all across his skin as her hands worked their way up to caress his cheeks, and her tender kisses soothed his nerves almost instantly. She was so understanding of him, not moving on in pleasuring him until his hands moved down to take a generous squeeze of her backside, to which she responded in kind by stroking his strained and twitching member. Though, she was quick to pair it with the pressure of the toy she had strapped to her hips, using both her hands to hold it against his cock and rock her hips lightly. At some point before she got on him, she had slathered the toy in lube already without him noticing, and he couldn’t help but groan eagerly against her lips.

“I’ll be gentle with you, Katsuki. Unless you tell me otherwise.” Koge caught his gaze, nudging her nose against his to keep his attention. “How do you want to lay?”

“Just… on my back. I can’t promise I won’t cum fast, I’m struggling.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just make you eat me out again if I don’t get to before you do.”

“Tch,” Bakugou couldn’t resist the smirk on his lips, letting one of his hands come down hard onto her backside in punishment of her snarky comment. “Whatever you want, baby. But you’d better hurry up before I change my mind.” Gripping tightly onto her hips, Bakugou used his strength to push her back so that her butt plopped onto the bed, giving him room to lay down again. Huffing, Koge snatched onto the previously discarded lube bottle, putting the liquid on the toy and over his cock, using her hand to spread it down over his balls and between his cheeks.

“I’m about to wreck you and you’re being a smartass. You’d better watch it, or I’ll change my mind. Then you won’t get to cum at all.” Putting his legs into position, and finding that she needed to prop a pillow under his hips due to their size difference, Koge positioned the tip of the toy at his waiting asshole, catching his gaze one last time for final approval. Just feeling the tip threatening to enter had his heart racing, and after a final moment of internal nervous panic, Bakugou gave a small nod. The instant it slipped inside, slowly digging in inch by inch, Bakugou had to cover his face again with his arms, struggling to not beg or moan like a bitch in heat. Everything about it was different, from the unfamiliar feeling of this particular toy to the way it filled him and pressed against every sensitive spot he had discovered, and then some. It was incredible, and with the first roll of her hips that brought the toy nearly all the way out of him before plunging back inside, his voice broke with a trembling whine.

“That’s okay, Katsuki?” Although he couldn’t see her, Bakugou could just hear that Koge was already totally lost in this, even though she kept her current movements slow and steady as she waited for his response. It was difficult for him to open his mouth and restrain his moans, so all he could manage was his typical grunt of agreement, his hands clenching into fists with her slight increase of pace.

Bakugou knew that it was going to end up feeling good. He knew that it was going to embarrass the shit out of him and that he was going to struggle to gather himself once she started. What he hadn’t expected was how he already wanted to beg for more, how his body craved to feel the pleasure crash onto him faster and harder. He hadn’t expected that he was going to strain to hold back his voice to this extent, that each thrust had him wanting to cry out and moan. He hadn’t expected to love it this much so early on.

“Look at me, Katsuki.”

He couldn’t. He was sure that the embarrassment would kill him if he had to watch her, but her next move just proved that he really didn’t have a choice. A sharp snap of her hips and rougher pace finally forced all the restrained air from his lungs, his arms moving up so he could clutch on tightly onto the pillow his head rested on. “F-fuck, Utsuro, you can’t- you can’t just- a-ah, damn it!” Still refusing to look at her, Bakugou turned his face into his bicep, teeth clamped shut tightly to do everything he could to hold himself back. He couldn’t turn into a horny little bitch so easily, even if every thrust and the feeling of his cock slapping against his abdomen was driving him nearly mad. His pride wouldn’t let him break just yet, but it was quite clear that Koge wasn’t going to have it.

“Just let it out, you stubborn brat,” Koge’s voice was tinted with her own pleasure, stimulated from the other end of the strap that rested inside her. “You didn’t care about moaning or hiding yourself while I sucked you off or fingered you. Look at me, Katsuki, and just let it loose.”

Her hand wrapping around his cock and the first stroke paired with the anal stimulation is what broke him, his entire body shuddering and the restraint of his voice shattering into loud curses and moans. “Fucking shit, Koge-! That’s it! Fucking harder!”

“Greedy, huh? Only if you look at me.”

There was hesitation, but it was brief, as the craving for more was stronger than his embarrassment as he grew closer to his release. Opening his burning eyes, he finally tilted his head more to face her, gazing over every inch of her beautiful body and the way her hips slammed eagerly into his. What really captivated him was her expression, flushed and hazed over with lust and excitement more than he had seen in a long time. She was completely lost in the moment, and a smirk crossed her lips as he finally caught her gaze.

“There you are. Now don’t hold back, love. No one can hear you but me, and you’re so sexy like this,” As a reward for him finally looking, she gave him what he had asked for, pushing him closer and closer to his release. “But I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you.”

The lack of pleasure from her hand on his cock hand him immediately bringing his own hand down to do as she told him, pumping eagerly. There was no longer any restraint or control of himself like he had to start with, and he allowed himself to grow lost in it all, not caring about how he may be perceived. It was just them and the pleasure, for how long he wasn’t even sure, and before he knew it, he was teetering on the edge of release.

“I’m going to fucking cum, Utsuro-! I can’t fucking hold it anymore!”

“Do it, Katsuki,” Koge pushed his hand away so she could stroke him instead, wanting to bring him to orgasm completely on her own, keeping the pace of her hips steady. Hands free again, Bakugou couldn’t resist clutching onto the pillow he rested on at his hips, his head tilting back as he let the pleasure overwhelm him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” His release was more intense than anything he had ever felt before, and all that time masturbating didn’t prepare him for it like he had expected. His entire body was on fire, the crash of pleasure nearly sending his eyes rolling back. It was euphoria and took much longer to come down than normal, though his first deep intake of breath was quick to bring him back to reality. The first thing he noticed was the incredible amount of hot cum all over his stomach and chest, surprised that it was so much even after having cum just an hour before in the shower. “Holy shit…”

“Holy shit is right, Katsuki,” Having clearly cum herself, Koge carefully removed the toy from within him before flopping back to sit on her butt, propping herself up on her arms as she heaved to catch her breath. “Humping like that is hard work!”

Bakugou couldn’t resist a chuckle, letting his arm come up to flop back over his eyes as his body struggled to recover. “Don’t be a pussy.”

“I still can’t believe you even wanted this. At first I couldn’t understand where my toys were going and stuff, but I really didn’t expect it to be ‘cause you were training.”

With the click of the strap-on harness coming loose, Bakugou peeked under his arm to look at his lover, who was more focused on removing the toy than watching him. The contented smile on her flushed face had the butterflies in his stomach turn crazed, feeling the heat in his own cheeks spread almost down to his toes, and the urge to clutch on to her was nearly suffocating. Sitting up on weak arms, he yanked the petite woman over to him, who cuddled up into his lap and against his chest without protest or being bothered by bodily liquids that coated them both. In fact, she hummed happily, nuzzling her face up into his neck as he caressed her close.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to do it or that I would like it at all,” Bakugou spoke as softly as his gruff voice would allow, running his hands along the soft flesh of her thigh. “But it was… Fucking awesome. Sorry I was such a prick about it for so long.”

“I had a feeling you’d like it! And I think how shy you were was really, really cute. But it’s also so sexy, Katsuki. This whole thing was amazing, I don’t think I’ve been this turned on in a while. Trying new things always gets me super crazy.”

“Well hopefully this will keep you crazy.” Bakugou urged her head up a bit to kiss her lips softly. “Won’t be the last time.”

“Can I do you doggy next time?”

Ignoring her question for the moment, he showered her with more affectionate kisses, running his fingers through her hair softly. He wasn’t sure why, but this entire experience had him feeling so close to her, so accepted and safe that he couldn’t restrain his adoration for her. “Mm… Why? I thought you liked me looking at you.”

“I do. But I want to see that cute bubble butt of yours jiggle.”

“Then no.”

“Well, I say yes.” Cupping his cheeks, Koge squished them together playfully, kissing his puckered lips in punishment. “Let me spank you.”

“Never!” Breaking free from her grip, Bakugou first gave the tip of her nose a vengeful nibble before blowing a rough raspberry onto her cheek, ignoring her giggles and squeals as he leaned forward to cocoon her down onto the bed beneath him. “You have to work for that privilege!”

“I will! I will get the chance to spank that booty. But seriously, Katsuki,” Koge paused for a moment, gently pushing his bangs back out of his face so she could better catch his gaze. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Tch, of course I trust you. Thank you for not making me feel like a pathetic horny bitch.

“Oh, but my Katsuki, you are a horny bitch. Ouch, don’t bite me! Meanie!”

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tmnt-mags · 4 years ago

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Raphael x Fem!Reader

Reader is April's little sister and meets the turtles through her. I changed the ages and timeline a bit just because I don't feel entirely comfortable writing the turtles as 15 year old kids. SO the turtles are 18 the reader is 17 nearing 18 and april is 27.

Warnings: some mention of parent death, but nothing else!

Part 1/ ??

Im still pretty new at writing fanfic and have only done a few and this is my very first tmnt one. Constructive criticism and nice things only please!

I didn't remember my dad. My mother gave birth to me a month before his death. I didn’t remember him but my big sister April did. She told me everything she could about him, all kinds of stories and old home videos. It's almost like I know him but I don’t. Sometimes it's sad and I wish for nothing more than to have some memories with him, but I’ve had a good life and have a great family. I’ve lived with my sister since our mom passed 2 years ago from cancer. I miss her a lot, but I like living with April and I love our apartment.

We both have a deep love for media. She is a reporter with Channel 6 and I started making youtube videos right around the time mom died. It was like a video diary back then and has since turned into something completely different, though there are the occasional personal diary type videos.

I was wearing my favorite oversized sweater. It was a deep forest green and nearly reached my knees. It was worn and a bit tattered in some places, but it was the coziest thing ever.. I was barefoot in the kitchen listening to April talking about the latest Foot Clan activity and thinking about the questions she was planning for some guy who worked on the docks. She had convinced her camera guy Vern to take her over there before they shot her morning segment.

“You’re gonna be late!” I called into the living room while putting some breakfastt in a container for her to take on the road.

“Thank you shorty,” She rushed in and gave me a kiss on the cheek as she grabbed her breakfast and rushed out of the kitchen again to grab her bag “I’ll either be back for dinner or late!”

“That's really specific April,” I mutter as a lean in the kitchen doorway and watch her check her purse. “Do you have your touchup bag and your toothbrush?”

April let out a small gasp and rushed back to the bathroom. She came back out with a bag, gathered her things and blew a kiss as she ran out the door. I let out a laugh and went to eat my own food.

I spent the day editing a new video. I just hit 700k last week so I was making a special video to celebrate. It had some songs that I had covered laid over a video of me painting a portrait of my mother and father. It was taken a year before he had died and they had gone on a weekend getaway in the Appalachian mountains.

I didn't look up until April burst through the door. It was already dark out and I hadn’t even noticed.

“I just witnessed a Foot Clan attack!” she called as she walked through the apartment.

“What? Oh my god! Are you okay?” I practically jumped up and followed her as she began pacing around the living room. “April? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! There I was at the docks trying to get some answers and then BAM! They were there!” She went on about the attack and then started about some kind of vigilante that fought them off.

“Vigilante? Are you serious?” She didn't answer, she just went into her room. I sat back down on the couch and tried to process what she had said. In the end I shook it off and went get some dinner ready.

Over the next few days April was hard to find. She seemed to be constantly on the move and didn't answer her phone. She came home talking about dad's old experiments and giant turtles, and over the next 2 days seemed to just be gone. The spire on the Sacks building fell and The Shredder, who was the leader of the Foot Clan, was arrested and Eric Sacks was revealed to have been working alongside him the whole time. It was a wild time for New York, and April was suddenly quiet about the vigilantes.

Time began to move on and April started talking about these 4 new friends she had that were brothers. They seemed like a fun nice group, and the stories she shared were great.

“So,” I started as we sat together on the couch, “when do I get to meet the brothers?”

April choked on her glass of white wine. “What? Meet them?”

“Yeah, You talk about them all the time! I would like to meet them. They’re all you’ve been talking about for like 3 weeks.” I said as I pushed her with my foot.

“Ummm,” April stopped to think and had a vague look of concern on her face, “I'm not sure actually. They’re pretty busy guys.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Uh-huh. If you don't want me to meet them just say so. I was just curious.” I turn my face away from her.

“No it's not that, It's just they’re kinda shy. They don’t really like meeting people.” April's face said that she was telling a lie.

“Okay.” I left it at that clearly something is bugging her about me meeting her friends.

April-

April went to spend some time with the boys, but couldn’t stop thinking about them meeting her little sister. How would she react? She thought to herself, ‘I fainted when I met them, and there are still times when it kinda freaks me out a bit. I don’t want my baby sister to get scared and I don’t want the boys to get hurt because of it.’ They had tried to act like April’s reaction didn’t hurt them, but she knew it did. ‘I just want everyone to be happy.’ She was sitting in the lair watching the boys fight and Mikey brought up their Christmas pop album again. She smiled, (y/n) loved music and often performed covers on YouTube. She was really good at it. She had even written her own songs but at this point refused to release or talk about them on her channel.

“April, is something troubling you?” The brunette turned, surprised to see Master Splinter.

“Oh it’s nothing really.” She paused, “Actually could we talk? I am having some trouble.” Splinter nodded and gestured for her to follow. Not answering the questioning looks of the brothers, they went into Hashi.

“The boys avoid this room as much as possible,” Splinter said with a chuckle, “they will not listen in in here.”

“Makes sense,” April laughed and sat down on a mat with Splinter while looking at the odd structures in the room, “I’m having some trouble with my sister.”

“Oh yes, little (y/n) she had only just been born. I believe your father brought her down to the lab twice in those last weeks.” He thought back fondly on the small soft baby that looked so tiny in the arms of her father but so big compared to him then. “ what is it that is wrong?”

“She wants to meet the brothers. She doesn’t know that they are turtles, but she knows I have new friends.” April said looking down, “ we are very open. We’re the only family we have left so we always know each other's friends. It’s a safety thing I guess.”

Master Splinter hummed and looked at April, who continued.

“She wants to meet them and honestly I want her to too! I think they would all get along so well and I think the boys would adore her. It would also be nice to know that there are 4 ninjas who would look out for her.” April sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“I just don’t want the boys to get hurt. What if she is afraid of them? What if she screams and calls them monsters or freaks? What if she passes out or cries. It would hurt them so much, and I don’t want to see my sister frightened anyway.” April’s shoulders slumped and she lowered her face to look across at Splinter.

“You know your sister well? Do you think she will react this way?” The rat questioned.

“I don’t know. This isn’t exactly a situation that has ever come up before or one I ever thought I would be in.” She played with her fingers in her lap and she watched him stroke his beard.

“I think you know your sister well and know what would be the best course of action.” He smiled, “I think the trouble now will be convincing the boys to risk meeting her. I have no doubt that it will be a split crowd.”

April nodded and gave a kind of exasperated smile. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Mikey and Ralph would agree, Donnie was iffy, but Leo would say no.

“Thank you Splinter. That does actually help. Do you mind if I stay in here a bit longer?” She asked.

“Go ahead child. Take your time.” Splinter got up and left the Hashi.

April sat and thought about what he had said. She thought back to everything she knew about her sister and what she knew of the boys. If her sister could be accepting she knew that they could have a great friendship. The boys were half a year older than her and they didn't know anyone their age. It would be nice for them to have that she thought. She knew Mikey would be super friendly right away, maybe even too friendly. Donnie would be polite but wary at first and a bit excited. Raph would be happy just to meet another person, but Leo would be cold. She feared that he would be distant and unapproachable and she knew her sister well enough to know she wouldn't be able to handle that.

She took her time and eventually rejoined the brothers. She brushed off their questions with a simple: “I needed advice.” She sat down with them as they all talked and joked around. Finally Donnie brought up the perfect opportunity.

“April you're lucky you don't have brothers.” He said as Mikey bombarded him with insane ideas for gadgets.

“Well I don't have any brothers but I do have a baby sister.” The turtles all turned towards her clearly shocked by this news. “She's actually about 4 months from turning 18.”

“Woah Angelcakes, We didn't know you had a lil’ sis. Is she as beautiful as you?” Mikey said while batting his eyes at her.

“I think she is absolutely gorgeous, and she sings and does art. She’s about to be a senior in high school.” April said while leaning closer to mikey. “Shes shorter than me and has curves for days. She used to be on the dance team actually.” April laughed and Mikey threw himself back and fanned himself with his hand.

“Why haven't you mentioned her?” Leo asked.

“You never asked if I had any siblings. She was born a few weeks before my dad died.” April smiled sadly at that “She actually asked if she could meet you.”

The boys seemed to freeze at that, and suddenly all eyes were on her.

“You told about us?”. Raph asked.

“Kinda. I might have left out the part about being ninja turtles, but I told her about my new friends and she wants to meet you guys.” Raph scoffed at her answer.

“So you didn't actually tell her about us.” He almost snapped at her.

“Cool it Raph.” leo warned.

“I don't wanna be looked at like a freak. She won't want to meet us when she sees us.” he stood up and walked off. April looked at the others who all looked like they wanted to disagree and agree with Raph at the same time.

“Sorry angelcakes, I'm sure baby angelcakes is great though.” Mikey shrugged.

April sat in disbelief that they all basically said no. The lair was quiet after that and she left after they ate some dinner.

She got home only to remember her sister was spending the night at her friends house. So she had the place all to herself. She let out a sigh and poured herself a tall glass of wine and sat on the couch thinking about the events of the day. She came up with a plan as she finished her cup and decided that by the end of the week they boys will have met her baby sister. She grabbed her phone and invited the boys to come hang out at her place for once this upcoming weekend. They didn't even ask if her sister would be there.

(Y/N)-

April had gone out to pick up some pizza for a late night dinner. I had school, homework, and some video editing to do and forgot to cook. April came home late and said not to worry about it and would grab some pizza. Her new favorite place didn’t offer delivery so she went to go get it. I decided that a nice hot shower sounded good and went in. I got out as I heard the front door open and close. I made my way to my room about to throw on my favorite green sweater only to remember that It had been washed and was in the dryer. So, I wrapped my towel back around me and opened my door to head out into the living room. I walked out and looked up only to meet with 4 pairs of eyes.

“Oh my bad,” I said, turning to go back to my room only to stop and turn right back around. “Ummmm…” I trailed off not sure what to say as I stared at 4 very large, very green, oddly human like turtles, all while in a bath towel that left most of my left hip exposed.

“Oh hi (y/n). I forgot to mention I had friends coming over.” April said walking into the room. “You might wanna put some clothes on though.”

“Yeah…” I said not able to look away from the very large turtle creatures sitting in the living room.

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #tmnt 2014

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nukyster-blog · 4 years ago

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Changing Course Chapter 31) Favorite pet

.-.-.

Things changed again in Castle de Haar; this time in the crippled slave’s favor. For this morning, it was not the Giant stomping into the shed, no, it was Duna the Brunette who was holding up Ivar’s keys.

Ivar’s duties held more of a feminine touch, as yesterday he was brought up one hundred and twenty-four steps into the linen room, where a large collection of tangled bowls of wool awaited him.

His large, calloused hands were not made for the finer arts. That, and being subjected to the gaze of three young women, was a form of torture Ivar had not lived through before.

This mischievous sisterhood of three giggling, eyelash batting women made Ivar nearly wish the Giant would throw him out of the nearest tower. Was it possible to catch a fever from blushing alone? Because his face was on fire from the moment he crawled back onto the pile of blankets.

Being their timid, awkward lapdog did have its perks, however. The food was undoubtedly the best he’d received since his arrival in castle de Haar. Although he did his best to contain himself, he wolfed down the entire content of his plate and finished before either of the three women started. His face must have looked like a stuffed chicken, cheeks still full, while trying to swallow.

The two linen maiden cackled at the way Ivar had to punch himself on the chest to prevent himself from choking on a chunk of bread. The fair-maiden, Mabelia, threw a well-meaning glare at the pair and held out a silver cup of wine for Ivar.

Gulping down the content, Ivar could not help but to feel completely out of place. He was this dirty, vile shadow of filth in the midst of proper, serene creatures, that for reasons unknown wanted him around.

There was something brewing between the three young women, that was evident. Ivar had a sixth sense when it came to others talking about him. After lunch the blonde, Badelog, disappeared and returned with a bowl of hot water and a small, sharp knife.

As Badelog strode up to Ivar, turning the smooth handle in her hands, his face fell and he wondered if she was going to stab it into his back literally, as the three had already done so figuratively.

Luckily for Ivar, his mind still held some control over his body. Instead of slitting his throat, the blonde dabbed his chin and jawline with a cloth drenched with hot water.

Ivar lost all forms of masculinity and embraced the warm touch of Badelog’s hands. Tilting his head upwards like a good little lap dog he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly as the cold touch of her blade pressed against the skin of his cheek. Receiving the first proper shave within a year, Ivar’s shoulders slumped back against the wall and he submitted to the tender care of Badelog.

The three young women narrowly inspected every inch of Ivar’s chin, jawline and lips before fully approving Badelog’s work. With arms crossed, they nodded in agreement and spoke in delighted, fluttery cheers.

Ivar still contemplated jumping from the castle, and he blessed the Gods for the fact that his older brothers were far, far away from de Haar.

The clean shave did feel incredible though; it gave him a feeling of clarity he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

The pampering wasn’t over yet. Duna took hold of a lock of his greasy hair and held it up between her thumb and index finger. She muttered something and both of the other woman nodded in agreement.

A pair of scissors appeared in view and Ivar was just in time to pull his hair from Duna’s fingers.

“No!” He spoke resolutely, “no”, and he tugged his long hair behind his ears.

For some reason, the three young women thought his action was both funny and endearing. Their high pitched gasps made Ivar’s face sear so vibrantly it could warm up the sun.

Focusing on the tips of his toes, Ivar wished the young women would continue their work so he would no longer be the centre of their focus. This small favour was granted, and Ivar managed to breath again. Cautious, he rubbed his fingers over the smooth skin of his jawline. He knew it brought out his boyish features, sending him back a few steps into boyhood.

Ivar never considered himself handsome, nor beautiful. The heads he did manage to turn in Kattegat had always been because of his disability. He was a cripple and he did not expect anyone to look past that hideous default.

So, maybe if he’d taken the trouble to learn a little bit of basic Dietsch, and would have been brave enough to peek up, Ivar would have noticed how the three young women were slightly enchanted by the presence of the cripple of de Haar.

The extraordinary stranger, who’d stood up for the black skinned slave against Ludolf and taken a horrendous flogging for it. No, those three young women hadn’t forgotten his bravery, for all three of them were subjected to the twisted cravings of the young ruler.

It was hard not to be drawn to this hero; with long, tousled, dark brown hair. His eyes, a mesmerizing deep blue like the ocean. With strong hands, rough from working, and with skin kissed by the spring sun.

A handsome hero, a survivor of a death sentence; it would be hard for any woman to ignore those facts or features.

.-.-.

Piglet did not speak a word about Ivar’s refreshed appearance. She did not speak a word at all, but her disapproval was evident. Utstott sided with her, quite literally. The slave and the puffy white raven were united in their disdain toward Ivar siding with the Christians, forming a bond.

Utstott sat on top of Piglet’s bandana, cawing raucously at Ivar when he tried to pet the bird. Utstott hopped from Piglet’s head to her shoulder, receiving a few pieces of veiny beef from the young woman. It was the only meat of that evening’s meal and Piglet gave it to the bird instead of sharing it with Ivar. As she fed the bird her eyes were scorching and smoldering, daring him to say something about it.

Ivar cut his losses and ignored the flaring dark eyes and the beady blue one. He’d eaten like a King in the midst of Duna, Badelog and Mabelia. Surely he’d survive the night with this meager meal.

“They call me teer kind, tar child”, Piglet announced as she picked up their plates, “your two new well-wishers”, she continued when Ivar raised his chin in her direction, “pulled my headscarf off and ran off laughing”, she gave half a shrug and straightened her back, “I’d rather crawl over hot coals then show any man my hair”, she paused and picked up the last plate, “and the wife of Ludolf, she’ll break soon. She won’t last long.”

Ivar couldn’t decide if Piglet’s last words were meant as a threat or a promise. He didn’t respond to her spiteful words. His lack of reaction only flared up Piglet’s resentment and the young woman spat in his direction, positioning herself in the furthest corner of his box to spend the night. Her attitude over Ivar’s improved way of work did strike him below the belt. In her eyes he betrayed her, but in all honesty, he had no control over the orders he received. Sure, today’s labour was hardly enough to call work, but it wasn’t like he wanted to spend an whole day with the three young women. At least, that was what he was whole-heartedly telling himself. That he did not have a choice, that of course, he hated slaving for the Christians. It was easier believing that lie, instead of facing the fact that he deeply wished that tomorrow, he’d have to crawl up those endless stairs again.

.-.-.

Ivar’s place as favorite pet was short term. The next morning Duna did come to unshackle his chains, but instead of climbing a hundred and twenty four steps, he was sent into the kitchen. Duna’s expression had been blank as she pressed a knife and bowl into his hands.

Anxious, Ivar started his task of peeling potatoes, occasionally glancing at the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fair-maiden.

In the evening Piglet’s resentful mood lessened for a bit, they played their game and to keep the atmosphere bearable for the rest of the night Ivar did not ask anything about the fair-maiden or the linen maidens. Utstott still bore an attitude towards Ivar, but allowed him to pet it’s growing feathers as a token of peace. The raven had found itself a place during the night on top of Ivar’s box and kept it’s one functioning eye open. For some reason it was quite reassuring to have the bird keeping watch at night, it allowed Ivar to relax and actually catch a good night sleep.

A few days passed and Ivar dreaded the familiar boredom of mindless tasks inside the kitchen. He met the linen maidens occasionally, tried to respectfully smile at them, but didn’t dare to approach them. He wasn’t sure if that might be a sign of crossing boundaries and under the watchful eyes of Big Cunt and Little Cunt, every move was registered. He knew the linen maidens were also one of the lower residences of De Haar, yet he still remained at the bottom, last in rank.

Both the young women seemed hesitant to even acknowledge his presence and ignored him, without the fair maiden’s protection as future ruler, they chose to linger on the safe side. Which meant far away from Ivar; the scapegoat of the Giant.

The absence of the fair maiden made the brute crawl out of his hole, which of course meant Ivar was quickly pulled from the kitchen and placed back aside the well. Cleaning chamber pots.

“Rumor has it,” Piglet spat coldly, sitting on the stone wall of the well she’d brought Ivar a chunk of bread, “that she’s with child.”

She did not need to be specific in her revelation, and both remained silent for a while.

Once more, conflict began to swell inside Ivar’s ribcage. It was a fight between Viking and Slave. His pride and heritage forbid it to feel any sliver of sympathy for the young woman bound to bear a child of a monstrous husband.

Yet the crippled slave still savoured the memory of her lips pressed against his, it didn’t matter that it had only lasted for a mere moment. Her kindness confused him, yet intrigued him immensely. She wanted something of him, hope, above anything. And although the guilt ripped him to pieces, he wanted to be near her. Even if it was as a humiliated lapdog. Because in a way, Mabelia made him feel less damaged. On the contrary, there was an odd sense of worship in her gaze, every time their eyes met. She truly believed that he was de Martelaar, favoured by her God.

Maybe that was another thing that tore him up inside; her high expectation. She must have known why Ivar was being punished with forty lashes. He’d drawn her husband’s blood to protect Piglet and he knew she longed for him to save her virtue too.

And he failed her, dreadfully.

“She won’t last long,” Piglet whispered thoughtlessly, picking at the moss covered wall of the well, “she won’t last long.”

.-.-.

A/N: So what I liked about tv Ivar is that he can be 100% ruthless, barbaric, a tyrant, the worst of the worst. Yet at the same time, place a woman in the same room and he turns into this awkward teenage boy. Humbled by the mere sight of a woman of his interest. Remember the first moment with Freydis? He just victored over York, poured boiling gold into the mouth of a priest. Worst of the worst, evil, demonic. And then watch how he sort of melts for simply being kissed. Sorta -am I worthy?- So yes, that’s a part I kind of wanted to explore a little further in Changing Course. His reaction to kindness, women of his peers, the confliction of liking them versus being a Viking. Versus being Piglet’s companion. I’d love to hear your thoughts about my A/N and about the chapter of course.

Xoxoxox Nukyster

The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane The tagged ones: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @saldelys @shannygoatgruff @pieces-by-me @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @readsalot73 @lauraan182 @conaionaru @sarahh-jane @peachyboneless @adhdnightmare If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar's heathen army #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #viking fanfic #ivar oc #alex hogh andersen

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citrusella-flugpucker · 4 years ago

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All 68 of my SU fics, apparently

((Because @novantinuum did it and then I wanted to do it and then they said “do it” and I took it as a dare

Compiling these gave me a sense of accomplishment. And pain. In my wrist.

Multi-line summaries nearly always squashed to lessen the vertical length of this post, even if most of it is below a readmore))

Multi-chapter fics, regardless of collection status (chronological order--oldest to newest):

And He Doesn’t Wake: My first SU fic, complete; “It can't end like this. Or: Waxing realistic as we examine the events of the episode "Bubbled".” Steven suffers halfway-realistic effects from being exposed to the vacuum of space. Probably not super canon compliant given what we learned in Growing Pains but a fic that branches off at Bubbled and rejoins canon around Mindful Education (and written around that timespan).

Diamond in the Rough: Incomplete; “Connie is in the hospital with a serious disorder, and her biggest chance is an experimental treatment combining minerals with blood transfusions. Little does anyone know...” Originally crack of “Connie gets powers from PD-infused blood” but then ASPR happened and I have to figure out where it goes now (and I want to! but...).

The Results Are In: Incomplete; “Sadie gets a piece of mail from her dad. For most people that'd be pretty mundane, but it's a little more complicated considering who exactly her dad is.” Barb/Blue Diamond crack (it makes sense in context) and affectionately called “Space Maury” internally for reasons that will make sense later. Has a similar but less “it flips the ENTIRE plot” issue with ASPR. I have many idea chunks but almost no connection between them

He’s Gone: Complete (and technically a oneshot with two “bonus chapters”); “Steven asks Peridot to get the shirt Connie got for him for his birthday from his closet. He says he wants to look nice. She's confused by his request. Greg and the Maheswarans are less confused and more terrified. He keeps saying it'll be okay. They'll be okay, even though he'll be going away. It'll just be a couple of days now. Or: Steven and Pink Steven are unable to fuse after being separated on Homeworld. That's not good for Steven.” Steven dies. That’s it. That’s the whole fic. Might potentially get an extra chapter or two still. Or not. Eh.

Thanks, Padparadscha: Incomplete/open-ended oneshot collection; “Stories about the best gem.” Padparadscha oneshots.

Your No-Good, Dirty-Rotten, Gem-Shattering, Rebellion-Leading Mother: Incomplete, little desire to finish; “What if Steven had gone to Camp Green Lake instead of Stanley? Or: If Steven Universe And Holes Were The Same Universe: A Fanfiction (thanks @captainjzh) Or, as the top of my Google Doc I started back exactly a year ago (*2019-01-07) says: SU x Holes: Because the fact that Steven Universe and Stanley Yelnats are both 14 is messing with me”. Wrote this as an exercise after reading the appalling original shopped screenplay for the Holes movie which was basically a nuclear fallout enthusiasts dream world but also quite possibly the worst and most uncomfortable thing ever written and I have had to have whole pages bleached from my memory

It’s Okay to Need Help: Incomplete (three chapters total planned), the last part of the pre-SUF-finale “Steven Corruption Theory” collection; “"Everybody needs support sometimes, and you need support right now, with this. And that's okay." She takes a deep breath. "It's okay to need help, Steven." Or: (Based in corrupted Steven theory as well as taking inspiration/using characteristics from a fic by @love-killed-the-superstar) Sometime after coming back from corruption, Steven sees a therapist to try to hammer out some lingering issues.” Steven has specific lingering issues from corruption due to the way they had to mitigate it, and that affects how he communicates with his therapist some days. Just been blocked on the best way to write it

Waiting is Worse: Incomplete; “Is there anything more awful than the feeling of powerlessness?” The movie mostly ends the same, except Steven doesn’t un-rejuvenate.

Realism: Incomplete, strong desire to complete; “As much as he may want it to be, this is not a dream. He's not possessing anyone. It's not happening to someone else. It's real.” Steven has the same effects happen to him as the Watermelon Steven from Escapism--an arm and a leg are amputated.

The President Kisses Babies, and Other White House Briefs: Incomplete, open-ended oneshot collection with very little overarching plot; “Oneshot escapades of President Connie Maheswaran and her First Man, Crystal Gem and public speaker, Steven Universe.” Inspired by a Tumblr post and with more ideas in the pipeline! Love this fic even if I lost most inspiration for four years!!

Collection (series) oneshots (chronological order):

Citrusella Tries (And Succeeds!) to Write a Fic Each Day of the Bomb: A collection where I tried to write a fic each day of the HotCG (wedding) bomb. I succeeded but also kind of not? XD

Could You Imagine?: “Imagination is wish fulfillment. What are some of the things Pearl has imagined?” Now We’re Only Falling Apart

Partake In New Extraordinary And Pleasing Pizza Lover Experiences (Or: Kiki's Lament): “Kiki rarely hates her job. But she does hate pineapples.” What’s Your Problem? (Also the title spells PINEAPPLE o.o)

Acquired Taste: “Steven has a snack as he helps prepare for an important ceremony.” The Question

My Whole Life: “Some people are just born to go into certain careers.” Made of Honor

We Can Think About Hope: Incomplete multi-chapter with no hope of completion (why it’s not listed in the multi-chapters, BTW... also the “kind of not” regarding success); “What's going on? What do we do now? Can you still hear me? (Or: The end of Reunited plays out differently.) (Or or: And He Doesn't Wake: Part II: This time with weirder angst! And more not waking!)”

Citrusella's "Steven Corruption Theory" Collection: A collection of fics written on the corruption theory premise before it became canon. It’s Okay to Need Help not duplicated here but would be at the end.

Change: “Steven's come back from probably the most serious thing that's happened to him--save almost dying after his gem was ripped out--but that doesn't mean he came back unchanged. (Based on the "corrupted Steven theory".)”

My Skin: “Steven does a mental inventory of what's changed about him since his uncorruption and finds himself starting to fall into a hole of self-criticism, until a song playing downstairs sets him straight. (Based on the "corrupted Steven theory".)”

Eternity in a Moment: “It had only taken a few hours, and yet, an eternity.”

I Can't Say with Confidence: “Over an hour. He's been sitting in the tub, fully clothed, the bathroom a mess… for over an hour.It should be working! Why isn’t it working?!” Based on this art!

It’s Okay to Need Help

Happy Steven's Day!: Just after Steven discovers his mother is Pink Diamond, Mother's Day rolls around...Greg just doesn't want Steven to be in a slump about it anymore.

You Deserve All the Joy: “Because nothing is better than being surrounded by family and love. Or: Steven's once-a-year struggle with a holiday he doesn't exactly have the ability to traditionally celebrate.” It’s Mother’s Day and Steven is sad. Post-ASPR

Universe Day: “"Being your dad is the only present I really need." Or: Greg and Steven talk and realize their experiences with Mother's Day have been two sides of the same coin.” Post-SUF

Citrusella's Comfortember 2020 Fics: Fics written based on prompts for November 2020 Comfortember... not finished with it

Speed Bump: “Steven's first night on the open road isn't as smooth as he wanted it to be. Attempt to combine prompts 2-6 of Comfortember (prompt 1 just couldn't be squeezed in): "first day/night", "nightmare", anxiety", "cuddling", "afraid to sleep"”

In the After: “Steven wonders if it was corruption. Comfortember days 7-10, though only in the most tenuous, technical sense (and by that I mean all four phrases are mentioned): "blanket fort", "lashing out", "confession", "crying"”

Late Night Hot Chocolate (described in next section)

Zombie Club Chronicles: Steven endures a violent accident on Frightnight (Halloween) that changes his life forever.

Beach City Zombie Club

Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Steven] doesn’t enjoy the Halloween season, but [Fill in: Steven] take(s) them on a well-meaning trip to an old Gem Ruin where they come to realize [Pick from list: They’ve made a terrible mistake in coming here]

On Frightnight when he is 17, Steven experiences the most serious event of his young life. Almost exactly a year later, Steven takes Steven to Lars' ship in hopes of being able to hop off at a truly secluded gem ruin to talk about something that Steven and Steven have been disagreeing on for several months. Lars has an idea, and Steven comes to a realization.

For the Cluster Spooky Writing Challenge!

Late Night Hot Chocolate (also a Comfortember fic)

"Steven? What are you doing?" He stares into the pot.

The gem half's voice comes monotone. "Making hot chocolate."

"It's three o'clock in the morning. Why on earth are you making… hot chocolate?"

The slyness on his face is one pixel away from nonexistent and yet it's practically a traffic cone to his other half, as he remarks flatly, "Because I've lost control of my life."

Or: Steven and Steven both have nightmares that threaten to take them back to... that night... One copes by making the other hot chocolate and pretending he really isn't having any problems.

Comfortember days 16-18: Protective, Flashbacks, Hot Cocoa

Standalone oneshots (reverse chronological order--newest to oldest):

Rumble Strips:

Prompt: [Randomly roll from list: Greg] notices [Fill in: Steven] is in a somber mood lately. Out of the goodness of their heart they try to cheer up the sad soul in the only way they know how: [Fill in: WHO WANTS TO GO ON A ROAD TRIP?!]

"I really thought I could handle myself on my own." He scoffed. "Even my own therapist didn't think I could do it."

"I bet she thought you could handle yourself just fine. She probably just thought you'd do better with your support system close, bud. Like, literally, I mean." His eye weaved through the thin line of gravel past the edge of the shoulder. "You started saying some pretty concerning things."

Or: Greg and Steven stop on the side of the interstate on their way to Empire City for New Year's, to have a conversation.

For the Cluster Christmas Writing Challenge!

Auto-Injector: “In an alternate timeline, Steven meets Bluebird at her welcome party but he cannot, under any circumstances, try her hors-d'oeuvres. Or: Steven ends up with allergies because why not” (I have three more ideas for chapters)

Don't Put Beans Up Your Nose: “"I know you want answers, and I wish I had some for you, really, Steven, but from what you've described… those aren't things to play around with. It's unethical to knowingly subject you to those for the sake of 'experimenting', even if you consent." Or: Steven asks Dr. Maheswaran a question she's not ethically able to answer.”

The Exor-schist:

Prompt: A series of events have led to a terrifying effect on one or more of the series’ characters. [Randomly roll from list: Mr. and Dr. Maheswaran] are now suffering from [Randomly roll from list: Spiritual Possession]. How did this happen?

"This corrupted gem, it has a powerful connection to organic matter. Ones this powerful have been known to overtake and even kill humans."

For the Cluster Spooky Writing Challenge!

It's My Party and I'll Dry If I Want To: “You would dry too, if it happened to you! Or: Steven says he wants a pool party for his eighteenth birthday in Delmarva, after over a year of traveling the country. ...But why isn't he swimming?”

Ace Up Your Sleeve: “Or in your back pocket, same diff. Or: Steven's sad about potentially not getting to go to Pride.” (oneshot and an epilogue)

Milestone: “"Okay, so like, the books aren't, like, useless, but they assume you have like the perfect baby. Maybe consider the following: kids are dorks, man." Or: Steven went to the doctor. Once. Or: Greg thinks Steven, at 15 months, is being weird and missing milestones and is worried he's a bad dad so he goes to Vidalia for help.” May eventually be part of a babby Steeb over the years collection

Full Enclosure: “What am I going to tell you? You're better off not knowing the trouble I'm in. / I don't want you to worry about what I've just seen, about where I've just been. / You don't have to be a part of this, I don't think I want you to be! / You don't need this, you don't need me... Or: Steven defines himself by his connection to others. So when they all leave, then… he's no one. (In short: Steven is crushed by his need to be needed.)”

Vice: “He could stop whenever he wanted to. He just didn't want to. Or: Steven falls into a bad habit and tries to rationalize it as okay as long as he's not completely abandoning the idea of improving his life.”

Stairwell Solitude: “Over ten years, Greg wrote just six letters to his parents. What could they have contained?” Post-Mr. Universe

Striations: “At Connie's behest, Dr. Maheswaran makes a house call to Steven's place after his un-monstering. It's different than his last appointment, but its core is the same.”

Everything Stays: “Ever so slightly, daily and nightly, in little ways, when everything stays... Steven's therapist brings up something she's noticed about him outside his PTSD.”

I Do It For Me: “"Forgiveness is the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding an offense, and overcomes negative emotions such as resentment and vengeance." Steven asks his therapist a question. The answer may surprise him.”

A Break in the Case: “Dr. Maheswaran takes a look at Steven's results but quickly finds herself in over her head.” Mid-Growing Pains

I have a couple entries in the @connieswap omake collection (Comic Relief and Same Old Steven)--I’m not linking them

Changing Tastes: “ Steven and Connie share a conversation after watching Crying Breakfast Friends: Under the Butterknife.”

Rejuvenated Regrets: “Someone calls Steven's name from downstairs. He's not listening closely enough to know who it is. He's not sure he cares right this moment. He wants Mom—Rose—Pink—and that's the one person he knows it's not.”

Gut Feeling: “Every time, he has to push his brain off that train of thought--what if she does it again?--but for someone with super-strength, he's surprisingly not very good at pushing.”

Lapis Watches Titanic (1997) ...There’s no summary

The Cluster Halloween Exquisite Corpse 2019 (I only wrote part of this!!): “Lars tells a horror story but loses track of it, or; a bunch of fic writers do an exquisite corpse and hilarity ensues. Written by DocCairo, citrusella, E350, love-killed-the-superstar and br42.”

Drift Away: “There are timelines where Steven fell into the biopoison when the Earth cracked under his feet. Here we see three times Steven (technically) lived despite a dive into pure poison, and one time he didn't.”

The Rose Wilts: “Once upon a time, he knew Rose. But he knew he didn't know everything.Sometimes it feels like he's learned more about her after she died than he ever knew while she was alive.“ Doug and Rose used to be friends

Tying the Knot: “Steven never wears shoes with laces, because he can't tie them. When Connie finds out, he's pretty chill about it.”

Haploid: “You're not sure if this is what being shattered feels like. You don't know if you want to be sure.” Mid-CYM

Thestral: “"How many have you seen?" "All of them." She answered without hesitation. "Oh." Or: Pearl and Steven talk about a type of gem that corruption has given some... special characteristics.”

500 Words a Secret Santa Gift: The Gratuitous Reference: “200 words a day, every day, until Under the Knife comes back. Or Crying Breakfast Friends. We're not picky at this point. Secret Santa edition! (A Secret Santa gift for @e350tb that deliberately and gratuitously references their 100 Words a Day series.)”

Sesimorp, Sesimorp: “A Lapis Lazuli makes a beautiful work of art.”

Ship Talk: “Lars and Steven share a moment on the Sun Incinerator.”

No Way Around It: “An order is an order.”

Give It A Try!: “Steven gets a Diamond to try something new.”

Better Off: “Peedee ponders what could have been.”

Steven x A Nice Calm Life Please and Thank You™: A Case for the Realization of a Bold New Ship: “Steven deserves a happy life free of interplanetary struggle and strife. It's my OTP. So I'm going to give him that! :D”

I Don't Know: “Will this ever make sense? Will this ever feel normal?” Post-ASPR

Force of Nature: “Her diamond gave her orders no longer.”

My Gemmortal (by XXXbloodstoneshardz666XXX): “the escupaids fo steven hardlight amnesia lion universe and his freinds n crushs” (this is exactly what it sounds like)

The Picture of Steven Pink: “It took a lot out of him.” (SU but Steven takes on the injuries he heals)

Self: “In the Connie Swap AU, Steven considers his identity and place in his family, community, culture, and himself. For a kid who at least tries to be all sunshine and rainbows, this isn't exactly the most fun thing to do, but sometimes it's necessary.” (these are different than the things in the CS omake collection)

I Really AM My Mom...: “"When you're singing, you want to use enough air that you could blow a throatful of peanut butter clear across the room." The crackiest of escape-from-Homeworld plots, based on a ClickHole article and a joke headcanon.”

Left: “Of course there's shame in bailing.”

Old shames (chronological order): Stories I just kinda cringe at now

Shrinking Rose: “Steven never felt bad about his stature. Until he did.” (I just don’t love it)

A Rose for Emily: “What if Rose wanted to spend the rest of her life with someone before Greg? ...It's safe to say she has a skeleton in her closet.” (less old shame than the others on this list but was hard to shoehorn in the A Rose for Emily style writing)

Alone: “Steven won't open up about how everything that happened is affecting him. Not even to himself.” (I know I’ve written other dark stuff but this one just hits different)

You Should've Asked Me, I'm Really Good at Naming Bands (November 2019 Unfinished WIPs): “(title subject to change) I did a challenge that I had to write my WIPs in November (revised to November and December) or be forced to post them unfinished. I got some updates done, but several not done. These are those stories. Dun-dun.” (only “shame” because they were things that were never finished--I also had a Connie Swap omake I was supposed to finish or the punishment was not to post it unfinished but to write Steven and Spinel (NOTP) but I just never did that)

#steven universe #steven universe future #steven universe fanfic #steven universe fanfiction #su fanfiction #su fanfic #long post #(it should be considering there are 78 FICS IN HERE)#THIS POST IS ITSELF THE SIZE OF A FANFIC #(68 fics not 78)

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dragonswithjetpacks · 4 years ago

Text

I did it! I started a fic on Ao3 to put everything together. You’ll probably see my Ao3 clear up a bit in Ferelith’s series. I’ll probably just keep everything up here on Tumblr because I’m lazy. Master list will be updated accordingly. Which means when I feel like it.

Theurgist

Chapter One: A Crone Warns of Darkness

-dragonswithjetpacks

Notes: A rework of my previous Astarion x Ferelith works turned into a full fledged fic. I basically did it. Started the fic. You’ll probably be seeing me update it as I go along.

Read here on Ao3.

The cool breeze brought from the afternoon shift in the clouds rustled the papers like frantic fingers in the loft of the library. There was the sudden sound of wood scraping against wood as the assistant pushed the ladder against the far the wall, rushing up it to close the the open window. It fluttered just out of her grasp, but with reflexes as quick as hers, there was little that escaped. She clutched the brass handle on the inside of the pane and pulled it against the sill tightly.

"Alright," she said quietly to herself. "There will be none of that today."

With a satisfied grin, she descended the steps, brushing off the front of her apron with it's many pockets. Noticing the disarray on the table, she turned to assess the damage. The notes were shifted a bit, but no harm was done to the original organization of the writings. As she picked them up, stacking them on top of each other with out of order pages between fingers, she took a quick glimpse at the writings. There were glyphs, many of which she knew, with incantations and rituals written in the margins. To the sides were components, mostly those of a a higher value, and the effects of the time of day the ritual would be cast. Her pale yellow eyes scanned over them quickly, but her research was cut short by the tapping of a loud cane up the wooden staircase.

"Ferelith! Ferelith, what have I told you about closing the window!"

For years Ferelith had studied the fey and their affect on the wild. The combinations of natural phenomenon and magical abilities were her specialty. Down to the very point her soul had fused with the fey itself. And yet, here she was... looking after an old bookshop replicating old tomes for a daft, blind, and nearly deaf old woman. The thoughts always lingered how she came to be in Baldur's Gate, why she had been there for so long. And it always brought her back to her simple path. The path of knowledge. One that rested in a single tome that she kept in her breast pocket at all times. A small tome with words that were unfamiliar to her.

"Get up there and open that window! I can't stand this stuffy place."

"Let me gather the papers, first, please," she bustled even quicker around the table.

"Don't leave such a mess and you wouldn't have to worry about!"

The old crone remained vigilant in the doorway. Her eyes could not see the study in where Ferelith worked, but she knew the shop as if it were part of her very flesh. And she required an open window for ventilation. This bothered the warlock she had employed, of course. As Ferelith was very adamant about closing all windows and doors to protect the books inside from ware. The old woman, though, she knew better. And she grinned knowingly as she could hear her assistant scrambling about the room.

"Oh how I long for your death," she grumbled quietly between gritted teeth.

"What was that?"

"How long until we receive winter's breath?" she perked her head up with a charming smile.

"How am I supposed to know that? Check the ledger."

"Right of course," she smiled just as the woman ducked down the hall out of sight. "Of course I'll check the ledger... the ledger I write in every day... that I memorize... you crazed old bat."

The woman was a terror to her stress, but she was beyond capable of producing ancient spells. No one believed this, of course. Which is why she ran a bookshop on a corner of the most run down part of Baldur's Gate. And it's why she sold makeshift herbs and potions on the side. And also why she agreed to hire Ferelith to begin with. It was low income, but she had endless access the tomes as well as a cot to sleep within the loft. The dust did her no good, but she had become quite friendly with the spiders and mice.

More importantly, she was left to study to her heart’s content once her work was finished. Being a transcribe would have been a difficult task for most. But Ferelith was different. With being a warlock and holding a close connection to her patron, she was able to read any language placed in front of her. This was something she used to make coin often during her early years of adventure and excitement. Though now, this was her career. A path she had chosen to stay comfortable as she pursued other and more important goals. For the past ten years, all Ferelith had known was the feeling of a quill at her fingertips, the beautiful art of calligraphy, and the constant image of words floating through her vision.

This kept her patron content. For the majority of the time. There were days it longed for the forest. And in those days, she would travel to gardens. Or to the edge of Neverwinter. But for the most part, he was happy to lose himself in a book just as she was. He was eager to learn. And she was happy to oblige. The more they learned together, the more they could use against the spell against them. She patted the book in her breast pocket lovingly with a sigh. The true meaning of a blessing... and a curse. It was best not to dwell on nostalgia, though, and she picked up a broom to head downstairs to close the shop for the night. There was a project that awaited her finishing touches. And she never left a book waiting.

Scratches of quill on paper filled the dusty loft among shelves of mahogany. A window open in the upper part of the high ceiling welcome a gentle breeze. Her papers shifted atop her writing desk causing her hands to leap out in haste to catch them. The damned window. Just a few more sentences and she was almost done. One hand resumed it’s stance, spread over the tome and holding it open so she could read the dwarvish inside. The other was equipped with her pen waving and twirling around giant pages, filling them with the common tongue others could understand. With a heavy sigh, she made her final dot.

"There," she said, sitting up and stretching her back that had been slumped over for several hours.

Sliding from the the chair, she grabbed her cloak that was draped over the back. She wrapped it around her, ignoring the scarf as the night seemed quite lovely outside despite the breeze. She climbed up the latter, shutting the window, and climbed back down, dusting her hands onto her apron once more. Carefully, she began to wrap the book she was reading into a burlap cloth. She placed it into an over shoulder bag on a coat rack nearby. And she repeated the process with three other books that rested nearby. Once the ink had dried on the book she had written in, she flipped through it one last time. A month's work finally finished. She shut the book, admiring it's deep blue cover and golden embroidery. It was too large to place into the bag.

"You're going out?" a throaty voice said from the doorway, disturbing her admiration for her own creation.

The disheveled old woman stood the doorway watching Ferelith run her hand across the book. She shifted onto her cane, her feet already bothering her from standing too long.

"The Thornbeards are eager customers," Ferelith slung the strap over her head. "They'll be grateful for the late delivery so long they don't have to wait until morning."

"Fair enough," the woman nodded. "Be careful tonight, Ferelith... It's dark out."

The cryptic bat was warning her, but she took most of her notions of danger with a grain of salt. The woman had barely left the comfort of her shop since Ferelith had started living there. She had done the shopping, the organizing, the promoting of their business, the deliveries. In truth, it had appeared the book shop was Ferelith's. Time would only tell if she would inherit it. Or it would get swallowed up with the rest of the run down buildings in a pile of dust when the woman passed.

"Don't worry," Ferelith grinned. "If I don't came back, that will give you the excuse you need to hire a much younger and handsome hand."

"Bah," the woman waved her hands. "Jokes all the time. Jokes from you. See if I care."

Ferelith touched her shoulder gently as she passed by with a sarcastic smile. Her feet were quick down the steps as she was determined to end the night. The taps of a cane echoed through the shop, even down to the lower floor where Ferelith searched her pockets for her keys. It was the last thing she heard as she left, turning to shut the door behind her and locking it with her silver keys. She took a look up at the old building, her home. For now. Just above, she could see the moon blanketed heavily by clouds. There would be no stars to light her way that night. The old crone was right... the night was dark indeed.

It was a long walk into the upper part of town. The district Ferelith resided in was known to be a rather unwealthy and large area commonly known as Heapside. While not entirely littered with crime, it still had it's fair share of homeless and pickpockets. Most of the buildings on the street she lived on were abandoned. And the shops that did exist were on their last leg. It was a mystery how the old woman had managed to have such a prosperous collection and business. Then again, Ferelith had raised it's reputation tenfold since her arrival. The beautiful elf with dark hair and a cold voice with an ethereal demeanor that could transcribe nearly anything was highly sought after. Yes... she was well known. Even to the extent of the some of the higher districts. Which was precisely where she was headed.

The wind began to pick up and it felt much colder than before. Ferelith looked up to the moon now completely covered in the sky. She had not sensed rain nor smelled it. Perhaps the old woman was right. There was an eeriness to the air. Picking up her pace, she began to trot down the street. She twisted and turned, careful which alleyways she ducked into. Until finally she had reached the black iron fence of the Thornbeards. It was a grand estate with two wondrous statues of goats at the door. Ferelith marched up the carved stone stairs and took the the door handle into her hand. She knocked loudly three times. And waited. The door opened, a good sized with dwarf with dark hair pulled back into a braid appearing to answer with alert eyes.

"Lady Moonshade?" he said, bringing his candle closer to her face. "My lady, it's terrible late."

"I'm sorry to trouble you, Brunan," she took the pack from off her shoulder still clutching the book in her hand. "But I've come to return Lord Thornbeard's collection."

"You're not bothering me at all!" he happily took the bag from her. "I'm just afraid for your safety, my dear!"

"No need to fret," she held her work proudly in both hands. "This is well worth it. The final piece."

She held it out, the gold shimmering in the candle light. Brunan's eyes widened at the sight of it. He sat the candle down at the edge of the stone railing and took the book into his own hands. Opening it carefully, he cherished the sound of the spine cracking. The old groundskeeper smiled, looking down at the first page, and seeing the tree drawn onto it.

"I didn't know you were an artist," he said.

"I'm most certainly not," she grinned. "It's a copy. From one of the originals."

"The family will be quite pleased with this. I'm sure," he nodded slowly. "You're done us a great services, Ferelith."

"That means more than you," she crossed her hands in front of her. "I can expect payment on the morning?"

"Always the greedy one, aren't we?" he chuckled. "Of course. But I do have something for you."

"Oh?" he ears perked.

Brunan leaned inside, setting the book down onto a corner table. He opened a drawer, pulling out a small wooden box. It was stained and smelled of sweet cherry wood. When Ferelith took it, she felt the smooth surface beneath her hand. It was fine craftsmanship. She lifted the lead seeing a red velvet cloth inside. And beneath that, a red leather bound book. The pages were crisp and white. And sewn into the cover was a red velvet bookmark.

"Lord Thornbeard wanted to thank you personally. But you know words aren't his forte."

"No," Ferelith smiled. "This is perfect. Thank you."

"I believe we are thankful to you. The family history will reside on Thornbeard shelves for generations."

"If there's anything else you need, Brunan, do not hesitate to visit us."

"In the meantime, Lady Moonshade, you take care."

"Until then," she gave a slight bow.

Brunan nodded back, shutting the door and disappearing inside. Ferelith took a step down, still staring at the door and listening. There was a slight shout from a distant room and she knew the lord of the house had his commission bestowed onto him. Finally pleased with herself, she took her leave, pulling her cloak tightly around her. It had somehow gotten colder. That didn't seem to affect the night life of the upper district, though. The tavern nearby was bustling and she could hear the music playing loudly from an open window. She paused for a moment, peering inside from her place on the cobblestone road. There were finely carved wooden chairs, polished tables, fancy lit scones, and beautiful tapestries. The nobles dancing inside were all dressed in fine silks and embroidered robes. Ferelith looked down, looking at her old tattered tunic. It had been nearly a century since she had last worn a dress.

Just as her mind began to wander back to her previous lives, a loud bang echoed through the streets. Pouring out of the now wide open door came two gentlemen, one with his arm wrapped around the other. They were smiling, smitten with one another. She lowered her hands, scanning over them. Clearly, they were drunk. For a moment, she thought they would not notice her. But one did. He looked up, his eyes shooting a warning glare. Ferelith did not get the best look at the man. But she noted his eyes and could only describe them with a single word of hunger. They stared at one another until he disappeared into the alley nearby. It wasn't the effort to follow and she began to head back down the road to her little and safe bookshop.

Until she heard a scream. Ferelith turned toward the alleyway, hearing the piercing cry of a man. She ran, feeling the books in her apron slapping against her thighs. She had forgotten to remove it. But it did not matter. She rounded the corner and followed the sounds. A scream had been silenced. And then more shouting ensued. The horrors of what she found left her speechless as she skidded to a halt in front of a pool of blood. A man lay face down, a hole bore into the top of his skull. Ferelith looked up, a tall tentacled monster holding another man by the neck.

"Do something!" he shouted before it tightened it’s grip

"What is this?" she faltered, her eyes widening.

Her presence alarmed the humanoid creature, drawing its small yellow eyes to her attention. She stammered back, her feet ready to run. But she held fast.

It's no use.

The voice in the back of her head was right. It usually was. She looked to the man, helpless and squirming against the wall. This was not her fight. And she was certain it was one not worth winning.

"Don't you dare leave me," the man gurgled, the hand wrapped around his neck tightening.

The creature reached out and Ferelith felt a tug at her head. The voice inside her thoughts cried out in pain, but Ferelith herself resisted. Red streaks of lightening flew across her fingertips as an anger trigger within. She began to run toward the monster, casting forth a blast of energy. The thing dodged, dropping the man to his knees and allowing him to gasp for air. Ferelith had no weapons, only her wits. If she could stall for just a bit longer, perhaps he could help. But as he looked up, she saw he would be of no use. Ferelith turned back to the humanoid, realizing how grave her mistake was. His hand reached out again. And Ferelith felt a cold grasp reach into her mind. Her feet lifted from the ground. It felt as if the air itself was suffocating her. The monster looked down to white haired man, striking him across the face with its other hand and causing him to fall unconscious. She began to gasp desperately. Everything turned black. And she never felt her body hit the ground.

#bg3 oc #baldur's gate 3 oc #astarion #ferelith #ferelith writing tag #i wasn't going to tag him since this is just the opening chapter #but expect a lot of him in the next couple days #astarion x mc

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