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ayyy-pee · 5 months ago

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𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕀𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Tomioka Giyuu x Female Reader

Summary: Will he survive this war?

Will you be alright without him?

Will you be lonely if he never returns?

And arguably, the most important question – will his line end with him?

The clock is ticking and who knows if he will ever make it back to you.

He’d never given much thought to children, but Giyuu had also never given much thought to marriage before he’d met you.

Giyuu and reader get to work on making a baby.

Story Warning: BREEDING KINK GIYUU, LACTATION KINK GIYUU, Smut, Giyu and reader are secretly married, P in V sex, Profanity like yall should know, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Giyuu is a munch, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Creampies, Mating Press, Freaky ass Giyuu fr

Art by: michi_ia (Twitter)

A/N: This was a request from one of my amazing readers! This one shot takes place in the same universe as Hidden Affairs (Sanemi x Reader fic!) They can both be read as standalones as they involve different readers! Hope you enjoy!

It’s eerily quiet tonight. Just as it’s been for the past several weeks. A storm is brewing, slowly but surely. Giyuu feels it, they all feel it. It’s like a simmer just under the surface, waiting to boil over at any moment. That’s why all of them were called to Ubuyashiki mansion. The plan has been set in motion and Giyuu knows what his role now is.

But will he make it back alive?

That’s the question that plagues his mind at this very second as he approaches his home. He can see the dim candle lighting illuminating the space through the windows and he knows he won’t be alone once he’s inside. No, he’ll be able to see you. And it’s all he’s been looking forward to since he stepped foot on the mansion grounds.

“I’m home,” Giyuu murmurs as he slips out of his haori. He lays it carefully on the table beside the front door.

“Welcome back, my love,” your voice floats through the air like a song, calling him to you. You’re in the bedroom and when Giyuu enters, he sees you’re already snuggled into the futon on the tatami, clearly ready for bed. “How was the meeting?”

Giyuu sighs, crossing the space and falling to his knees at your bedside. He leans forward and kisses you softly, reveling in the way that you, as always, can melt away his worries with just your skin on his. “It’s…” He debates on telling you the truth. That it’s not looking good. That he and the other Hashira, the Master, are all in imminent danger and that it’s likely to come soon. But as he watches you, so sweet and caring, he knows he can’t lie to you. “I’ll have to leave…to be close. He will come soon.”

He, being Muzan. Though Giyuu doesn’t dare speak his name in his home.

“I see…”

You recover quickly, but Giyuu has already seen it. The sadness and concern that flashes across your features. He feels guilty that he’s the cause.

“And the others?” You question, trying to change the subject. You know Giyuu hates talking about matters like this with you. You dislike it as well. Because he can’t be as honest as he wants to be with you. It’s for your safety and honestly to protect your sanity. It’s enough that you’re fully aware of the position he holds as a Hashira, and yet you insist on staying with him. Not that he could ever let you go. Even though he knows it’s selfish for him to have you, he would rather be a selfish man than be without you.

“Same old, same old. Still a little strange without Uzui, but we are managing.” Giyuu kisses you again before standing. Just as you do every night, you’ve got a bath waiting for him, and he’d like to get in and soak so that he can get back to you before sleep takes you for the night.

“That’s good. Everyone is well?”

“Yes.” He purses his lips as he fiddles with the rest of his garments, debating on whether or not to tell you this. But he thinks you may find this amusing. “Shinazugawa looked as though he was seconds away from ripping my head from my shoulders before the Master appeared.”

He hears your soft giggles behind him. “Were you sitting too close to his lady again?” You tease.

Giyuu shrugs, though you can hardly see the movement. “For Hashira, they are very bad at concealing their secrets. They smell of sex every time they arrive.”

“Yes, but it’s very cute to see. I’m happy she continues to keep our secret even though she has no idea we know hers.”

Ah, yes. Shinazugawa believes Giyuu is interested in his beloved, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. See, what the other Hashira (aside from Shinazugawa’s love) doesn’t know is that Giyuu is married - happily, at that. His colleague only found this out after running into you in town, carelessly dressed in Giyuu’s haori as yours were in the wash. And when she confronted you about the very familiar garb you were wearing, you just “felt that you could trust her with their secret”. It’s worked out for you both so far. It’s made you and Giyuu’s fellow Hashira closer, and Giyuu is simply glad you have a friend who you can confide in. He doesn’t even mind playing the messenger between you two, typically passing along stories and jokes from you to his associate when you’re all called together for a Hashira meeting.

But it’s also placed a large target on his back, a certain white haired psychopath surely waiting for the right moment to shove his blade down Giyuu’s throat.

“He believes I have feelings for her, you know? Almost blurted out their secret in a jealous rage in front of us all.”

“What?!” You gasp, scandalized. “You’re kidding.”

“No. He hates me because of it. It’s quite obvious.”

You hum, mind going a million miles a minute as you mull over this information. “Maybe it’s due to you being so unapproachable and distant. You don’t spend much time with the other Hashira. Perhaps it makes you unlikable.”

Giyuu winces, your words touching a sore spot because this isn’t the first time he’s been told he’s not liked among the Hashira. Kocho once said something similar.

“I’m not unlikable…” he grumbles, lips curling at the corners when he hears your laughter again. You tease him too much. “I’m going to take a bath. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

++++++++++

“Shall we try for a child?”

The question leaves Giyuu’s lips before he can talk himself out of it. He debated on saving this question for the morning as he joined you beneath the blankets, but his bath left him to sit in silence with nothing but his thoughts.

Will he survive this war?

Will you be alright without him?

Will you be lonely if he never returns?

And arguably, the most important question – will his line end with him?

The clock is ticking and who knows if he will ever make it back to you.

He’d never given much thought to children, but Giyuu had also never given much thought to marriage before he’d met you.

The prospect of a child never appealed to Giyuu before, but the closer he gets to this inevitable battle, the more it’s on his mind. If anything were to happen to him, he would not want you to be alone. He would want to leave you with something of his, something that you’ll be able to look at and be reminded of him if worse comes to worse.

“What brings this on?” You ask, more quiet than normal. “I mean you…you’ve never discussed children before.” You roll onto your side, propping your head up on your elbow. The moon casts almost an ethereal glow over you, your beauty clear even in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

He shrugs. “I suppose I’ve never thought about it.” His blue eyes gaze into yours. There’s something there, something behind your eyes that you’re not saying. If it were a no, you would say so. You’ve never been one to mince words. If it were a yes…well, you’d say that as well.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“Yes.” He sits up, pulling you into his lap. His fingers play with the strings that hold your top together, gently tugging. It loosens, exposing your collarbone to him and he can’t resist placing a gentle kiss there. “Wouldn’t you enjoy it?” His lips ghost your skin lightly, and the sigh that rushes past your lips is music to his ears. “Caring for this small person, a perfect mixture of you and I?”

You place your hands on his shoulders, head tilting to the side to make room for Giyuu as his lips explore your neck, your throat, the swell of your breasts. “Yes,” you whisper. The sleeves of your top slip from your shoulders, a new part of you exposed for Giyuu to now claim, and you let him. You let Giyuu do whatever he wants with you when it comes to this. You’re always so pliable as soon as his arms wrap around you.

“I want it,” you breathe, hands pulling Giyuu from your shoulder and cupping his face. You press a soft kiss to his mouth. “Let's have a child.”

Wide eyes beam at you in the moonlight, a look of appreciation swimming in them. How did Giyuu get so lucky to have a wife like you? His hands guide your top down, revealing your smooth skin to the night air. His lips caress your breasts, breaths ghosting over your slowly hardening nipples. He takes one into his mouth, groaning at how the soft flesh fills his mouth. Your body is beautiful — a face that would bring a god to their knees, curves in all the places Giyuu appreciates, a form that molds perfectly to his, made for him and only him.

Giyuu lets his mind wander while his mouth presses sweet kisses to your chest. What will you be like when you’re pregnant? Will you crave for certain foods? He’s heard that that is common. What will you look like when you’re months into your pregnancy? Will Giyuu be there to witness your belly grow round with his child?

Something clicks in Giyuu’s mind at that moment. And while he’s not usually rough with you, he can’t seem to control himself when a guttural moan bubbles from deep within his chest and he wraps an arm around you, flipping you both over. He settles his hips between your legs, rolling his hips against your core, reveling when your back arches off the futon as you moan. And Giyuu dips down, capturing your mouth with his and swallowing each and every sound you make.

It’s all dry humping and moans, whispered “I love you’s” and peeling each other’s clothes off until you both lay bare. Giyuu listens to the way your breath hitches as he kisses his way down your body. His lips brush over all of your sensitive spots on the way down, only stopping when they reach the most sensitive. Your chest heaves with heavy breaths as Giyuu peers up from between your legs. This is one of his favorite views, particularly at night when the soft glow of the moon illuminates your body in such a way that he can’t help but be painfully erect.

Giyuu is a man of very few words. Everyone knows this. Even with you, he is not particularly talkative, but as Giyuu takes in the sight of you, legs spread wide and the puffy lips of your pussy coated with your arousal shimmering in the moonlight, he must let it be known. “You are so beautiful”. He licks his lips, groaning because he is eager to have you, eager to taste you, feel you, breed you.

“Wider, my love,” Giyuu commands, and you do as you're told, spreading your legs to further expose your aching cunt to him. “Perfect,” he whispers, hands coming up to caress the inside of your thighs where he plants tender kisses along the plush flesh. He leans forward, burying his nose into your core and inhaling deeply.

And this may seem odd to those whose jobs don’t revolve around breathing, but there’s something about your scent that has changed. Giyuu can’t place his finger on it. Maybe your scent smells sweeter? Or perhaps your scent is simply more intoxicating because Giyuu has reached a level of arousal that is new to him. But there is without a doubt something different.

He decides not to dwell on it any longer when a desperate and hushed “please” reaches his ears. He realizes then that your thighs are shaking, eager for him to proceed. So he presses a soft kiss to your glossy lips. You gasp quietly, back arching immediately and Giyuu takes that moment to lick a fat strip through your folds.

The groan he lets out is deep, animalistic almost. It vibrates through your core and the sensation makes you reach down, weaving your fingers through Giyuu’s dark tresses to grab hold.

“O-oh, Giyuu…” You gasp as he presses his tongue to your clit, his eyes roll back when he feels the slick pour from your core and straight into his mouth. He laps it up eagerly.

“You taste divine,” he groans into you and you moan in response, hips rolling up to grind your cunt against Giyuu’s mouth, begging for more. And Giyuu obliges, lips sealing around your clit and sucking, licking, nipping at your swollen bud until you’re practically fucking yourself on his tongue.

“Giyuuuuu,” you keen, back lifting off the futon again. You moan loudly, fingers clutching Giyuu’s hair and pulling him further into your pussy. “Right there–” you pant. “Right there! Please don’t stop–”

Giyuu grunts, wincing because his cock is throbbing painfully against his abdomen. He can feel the moisture beneath him, his tip leaking with his arousal. Surely this will stain the fabrics, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. He brings a hand to your pussy, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing tight circles. You’re thrashing, moaning his name over and over, damn near about to pull his hair out when Giyuu plunges his tongue into your clenching hole, and he has to will himself not to cum when you cry out and your soft walls clamp down on his tongue immediately. Your hips come up to meet his mouth, grinding your soaking cunt against Giyuu’s face. And he loves it.

Giyuu loves the taste of you. He’s not much of a drinker, he’ll admit. Never much cared for the taste of liquor and has never experienced being drunk in his life, but he imagines it feels similar to the way his head is swimming just off the taste of you.

By now, the futon is sticky with his precum, and it doesn’t help that Giyuu has now been mindlessly rutting against the fabric to find some sort of friction. He longs to make you cum on his tongue, but he also longs to bury himself inside you. But you make the decision for him, tugging his hair until Giyuu finally pulls his mouth away from your center. He crawls along your body, the echoing sound of his length separating from the stickiness of the bed filling the room.

He’s face to face with you, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness and it takes him by surprise when you run your tongue from the tip of his chin, all the way to his mouth where you press your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you murmur against his lips, “how do you plan on putting a baby in me if you don’t fuck me?”

Giyuu thinks that if Muzan doesn’t end up being the death of him, you will be. He puts a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and whispering, “Forgive me, my love. I got carried away.” He slips his free hand between your bodies, a fiery heat blooming in his cheeks when he feels the way his cock is dripping onto your cunt. This is it. There will be no going back once he goes forward with this.

“When I’m done, you’ll be with child,” he says, seriously, as though it’s a fact. Because in his mind, it is. Giyuu grips his length, stroking himself slowly, rubbing his tip against your clit as he lets his mind wander briefly, and lets your moans fuel his runaway thoughts.

His head is consumed with the image of your breasts, swollen and dripping with milk and he has to halt his strokes to stave off the sudden urge to blow his load. He’s a little surprised, actually. Giyuu has seen and rescued his fair share of pregnant women, and didn’t think twice about it. Forgot about them the moment they weren’t in his direct line of sight. But you…you who consumes his every waking thought…the idea of you with leaking nipples, allowing Giyuu to taste the delicious nectar that your body has produced? It’s a thought so arousing, he has to tuck it away mentally, save it for when he’s alone on his missions so that in the late hours of the night, when he’s wrapping his hand around his cock, the image is still fresh.

He’s not sure when he slipped inside of you, let alone flipped you both over again so that he’s now on his back while you ride him. You take him all the way to the tip, moaning loudly every time you sink onto him. The intense waves of pleasure bring time to a standstill. Your nails are sunken deep into Giyuu’s abdomen, steadying yourself as Giyuu’s hips thrust into you at a bruising pace. On a typical night, Giyuu wouldn’t be so rough with you, so greedy with you. But tonight, while his mind is focused on a single goal – ensuring he leaves you with his offspring growing inside your womb – he feels like a crazed man.

Your cries grow louder, more high pitched and your movements stutter momentarily. When you cry out that you’re going to cum, riding him faster and faster, walls fluttering around him, breasts bouncing beautifully, Giyuu’s mind is back on his prior thoughts – dripping, swollen and full…

And then Giyuu is crying out with you, gritting his teeth as he fucks up into you, emptying his balls to the point that he’s lightheaded. His vision blurs as he keeps pumping into you. He hears the squelching, feels the splashing of his seed dripping from you and onto his abdomen, and Giyuu pulls you down to take his entire length again and again until he finally comes to a halt. His hands grip your hips tight, eyes honed in on where you sit flat against him as your sweet pussy cradles his cock.

“Don’t move,” he growls, surprising himself with the gravelly sound that just left his lips. And you nod, whimpering above him. Within your walls, Giyuu can feel his length still pulsing, spurting pathetic, weak strings of his seed. This orgasm has his chest heaving, hands shaking. He grits his teeth, using his hands to rock your hips back and forth.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” he coos, finally releasing his hold on you. His fingers ghost along your skin, from your chest, over your nipples, down to your abdomen where he places his hands flat against your stomach. He focuses on fucking you deeply, burying his cock as far as he can, pushing his seed as deep as possible. “Our child will be so lucky.”

“Yes, my love,” you breathe, eyes closed while you continue to take all of him so well. “And you’ll be an amazing father.”

Your words turn him on, more than he’s ever been. He rolls you both over once more and when you’re on your back, Giyuu takes a moment to pull out and admire his work. His eyes are locked on your core, dripping with evidence of him, pulsing and hungry for more. And he’s still so hard. He wants to give you more, needs to give you more. So Giyuu slips back into your pussy easily, the lubrication from the mixture of both your releases making you both shudder.

He’s so fucking sensitive, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when your greedy cunt is still squeezing down on him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pushing forward until a knee rests on either side of your head. And Giyuu thinks he may black out, because he doesn’t know that he’s ever been this deep inside of you before. He can feel his seed spilling from you, slipping down to your ass where his balls are pressed so hard, it keeps the thick liquid from flowing any further.

“One more…” he grits out, brows knitted together in determination. “Need to make sure it sticks.” Then he’s fucking you again, one palm resting on the back of each thigh, balls smacking loudly against your ass with every rough thrust.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” You gasp, fingers gripping the bed sheets tightly, and Giyuu whimpers in response. Your pussy is tightening around him, a vice grip already greedily trying to pull whatever he has left to offer from him.

“I want your baby,” you murmur into Giyuu’s ear and he groans, voice rough with desire. His thrusts pick up speed, searching for more pleasure.

“Do you?” He moans against your shoulder when he feels himself hit a particularly soft spot within your walls. “I’ll give you one. I swear I will –”

“Yes!” You practically scream. “Right there, Giyuu–”

“Fuck –” His eyes are closed, mouth slack as he pumps wildly into you. You’re so wet, so tight, so soft and as much as he wants to keep fucking you like this, he’s about to cum embarrassingly fast for the second time tonight. He can feel his balls get a little tighter with each sticky thrust. “Shall I b– ah…shall I breed you once more? Fill you up…ngh…until you’re dripping with my seed again?”

“Please–”

You hardly have to finish your words, because Giyuu is grunting loudly, bottoming out just as he spills himself into you, giving you every drop he has to offer. “Stay still,” he tells you, still thrusting into you, even though he can go no further. He pulls back once more, then sinks balls deep inside of you, breathing heavily as he empties himself. “Need you to take it all, my love.”

“I will,” you pant, his perfect little wife.

You stay like this for some time, Giyuu plugging your pussy until his cock softens inside you. Then he pulls out slowly when he has no other choice. You sigh in relief when you’re able to finally put your legs down as Giyuu lies beside you. He scoops you into his arms, kissing you all over your face, silent apologies for being so aggressive with you. You’re both catching your breath while Giyuu softly runs his hand up and down your spine.

“I wonder if we’ll be successful.” Giyuu mutters when the silence is too much and his thoughts become so unbearable he has to share them with you.

You wiggle out of his hold, sitting up to look down at him. You’re smiling, a cute and goofy smile that Giyuu only sees when you’re up to something. Or when you have a secret that you’re finding impossible to keep from him. So Giyuu sits up as well, brow raised in curiosity.

“What is it?” He asks suspiciously. His eyes narrow when your smile widens.

“It was successful…” You take Giyuu’s hand and press it to your stomach. “about two months ago.”

Giyuu is confused. His eyes are stuck to where you have his hand. Two months ago? Successful?

You can see the confusion clear as day, even in the darkness. “My love,” Your hand cups his cheek and like instinct, Giyuu leans into the touch. He still hasn’t torn his gaze from your joined hands. “Giyuu…look at me.”

And he does, back rigid as he stares at you with wide eyes. The cogs are turning, finally. He thinks he may have figured it out. But there’s a teasing smirk sitting on your lips, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he should believe you or not.

“A-” He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Are you…?”

You pull Giyuu towards you to place a sweet kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been with child for some time. I just wanted to wait to be certain. I planned on surprising you today, but your meeting ran so late and…” Your hand covers your mouth, hiding the small giggles threatening to bubble up from your chest. “Well, it’s just so cute when you get all serious and focused like that.”

You fall back onto the bed, your pretty laughter filling the room, and Giyuu can’t help it. He laughs, too. Your laughter is so infectious he can’t resist.

It’s a strange mixture of elation, fear, maybe relief. He’d accomplished his goal before he even knew it. But with him leaving to go to the mansion tomorrow, knowing what is planned, he’s now got a new sense of dread seeping into his bones.

But it also gives him a new sense of purpose, outside of returning to you.

Giyuu must defeat Muzan.

Giyuu must survive.

Giyuu must get back to his wife, to his child, to his family.

No matter what.

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 1 year ago

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Fanfic Thieves on Youtube

A collection of youtube channels have been uploading preexisting fanfictions in videos with little to no credit to the original authors. These are not podfics, these channels copy-paste the fics into text-to-speech readers then upload the unaltered audio over static or unrelated backgrounds, either art that is also stolen or mobile game footage. In addition to not naming the authors, they alter the title to make it that much harder for readers to recognize or find the original uploads. Some go so far as to pretend they themselves are creating the fics in question. Many claim that their stealing actually helps give fics "exposure" despite the intentional steps they take to conceal the origins of the fics they profit off of. However, this practice has lead many authors to discontinue fics after the frustration of having their hard work stolen. Many of these channels claim they will remove videos upon request, but will either argue with the author in order to keep it up, or simply unlist the video for a time until they think the author isn't paying attention anymore. And their solution to receiving strikes against their channels in the past has been to further obfuscate the origins of their content instead of even considering asking first.

”I got caught stealing, so instead of not stealing anymore, I’m doubling down on stealing even more so it’s harder for people to find out and prove I’m stealing. Stealing doesn't count if the specific person I stole from didn't call me out. I am the real victim.”

That, plus the incessant tag scumming in all the videos (spamming unrelated tags in order to appear in more search results) proves to me that these are lazy attention seekers who don't want to put in creative effort when they could just leech off of the passion of others.

In order to report them, go to their channel's "About" page and click the flag icon. Said icon might be behind the three dots in the top bar on mobile. Go to "Report User" at the bottom and tick the "spam and scams" button. This will allow you to list multiple videos as offenders instead of reporting them individually. Youtube's policy states that video spam constitutes:

Massively uploading content that you scraped from other creators.

Auto-generated content that computers post without regard for quality or viewer experience.

If you recognize one of your fics among the stolen, say so in the additional comments box, and perhaps call out the channel directly in the video's comments. If you recognize someone else's fic, please let the original author know so they can report the channel as well. Many have been confronted for stealing previously and refuse to admit wrongdoing.

Most of what I've found has been My Hero Academia fics since that's my fandom and those are the ones I can recognize as stolen, but there are many other channels that steal from other fandoms, so I invite anyone and everyone to reblog this with their own findings.

The reality is that this extremely low-effort content and new youtube channels are both very easy to make, so most likely they'll start new channels once the ones on this list are run through. But hopefully, if we all work together and keep whacking these moles, perhaps we can instill that same defeatism they caused so many creators who didn't deserve it, and eventually they'll give up.

My sincerest thanks to everyone who helped bring additional channels to my attention. A special thanks to ao3 user InArduisFidelis who brought the initial attention to the issue, and @owlf45 whose work was stolen.

Links under the cut.

YurikoFanfics - Not only stole content, but acted in comments as though they were the one writing these stories.

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/@YurikoFanfics

What-IF-Anime - Has the exact same "disclaimer" about not being the original author as the one above. Either they're the same person or the thieves are stealing from each other.

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/@What-IF-Anime

quirkywhatif7 - Either an alt of the above, or all these people are talking to one another because this one made a community post identical to a comment the one above made in response to being called out (the above screenshots).

https://www.youtube.com/@quirkywhatif7/about

DekuFanfic - It's the same fucking guy again.

https://www.youtube.com/@DekuFanfic/about

InfiniteParadoxfanfics - Nothing notable, same deal as the others.

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/@InfiniteParadoxfanfics/about

WhatIfAnimeChannel - Admits in their community posts that other people write the fics they post but still doesn't give credit. Migrated to a new channel after issues with youtube, likely being flagged previously.

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/@WhatIfAnimeChannel/about

WhatIfAnimeAll - Alt of above.

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/@WhatIfAnimeAll

FWNWorld - Makes sure to tell you that the videogame footage is theirs, but can't bother to credit anyone else.

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/@FWNWorld/about

WTFW - Claims to have "[A] team of talented writers, voice actors, and artists work together to create immersive fan fiction stories that are sure to captivate your imagination." Just the same test-to-speech stolen content over videogames. So straight up lying claiming that everything is theirs (and that anything they make is quality).

https://href.li/?https://www.youtube.com/@WTFW

MHA2.0Fanfics - Lots of crossover theft.

https://www.youtube.com/@MHA2.0Fanfics/about

Collerwhatiif - Pretty sure this one is the same guy as the previous 2, also has one for another fandom.

https://www.youtube.com/@Collerwhatiif/about

https://www.youtube.com/@GoJoFanfiction/videos

ko_sensei - Another that claims to have a "team" that makes the stories they steal: " passionate about creating compelling and engaging fanfiction that explores the various "what ifs" in the anime universe."

https://www.youtube.com/@ko_sensei/about

FantasticWhatIf - Multifandom stealing, uses the exact same bs disclaimer as many others.

https://www.youtube.com/@FantasticWhatIf/about

LettuceHeadFanfics - No credit, no acknowledgement of anything. Next one is an alt.

https://www.youtube.com/@LettuceHeadFanfics/about

brocollifanfics - Alt of above, once again admits to stealing with a declaration of "☆If you want to takedown any videos. You can mail us or leave a comment below the video☆"

https://www.youtube.com/@brocollifanfics/about

whatifofficial786 - Focuses on MHA/Naruto crossovers. Identical format.

https://www.youtube.com/@whatifofficial786/about

NotWhatIf - I've lost track of who's an alt of who but yet another identical format, descriptions, and bullshit claims of "enhancing the viewer experience" by putting a robot voice over bootleg fortnite footage.

https://www.youtube.com/@NotWhatIf/about

weebxds - Same again.

https://www.youtube.com/@weebxds/about

ItachiFanfics - Naruto channel, we can at least confirm that this one is run by a human given the rare different descriptions and a real voice at the beginning of videos before the robot comes back.

https://www.youtube.com/@ItachiFanfics/about

WhatIfDN - As if mockingly, a bunch of videos have a "credit" section in their descriptions that is of course blank.

https://www.youtube.com/@WhatIfDN/about

SpiceandBooks and spiceandfiction - Apparently Youtube itself has started picking up on the bullshit, because this multifandom channel is being dinged as ai spam so they started a new one.

https://www.youtube.com/@SpiceandBooks/about

https://www.youtube.com/@spiceandfiction/about

theoriginalastra - Doesn't even bother with disclaimers, the following are multiple alts/potential alts for different fandoms.

https://www.youtube.com/@theoriginalastra/about

SillySenpai12 - Highschool DXD alt.

https://www.youtube.com/@SillySenpai12/about

RosieRealms - Naruto alt.

https://www.youtube.com/@RosieRealms/about

DekuWhatIfs - Potentially another astra alt but not sure, doesn't matter because all these channels do the same thing anyway.

AnimeStark688 - No credits or disclaimers.

https://www.youtube.com/@AnimeStark688/about

Please take the time to report these channels, spread this post around, and reblog with any additional offending channels you find.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #naruto #highschool dxd #the debacle #mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #naruto fanfiction

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bamfkeeper · 3 months ago

Text

Missions Suck.

RQ: 'Since you’re open to requests, I have some ideas that you’ll hopefully enjoy writing, this being the first. The idea is that Kurt is gone on a mission, of which is taking longer than expected, and as such the bamfs and yourself miss him a lot and are anxious without him. So, you and the bamfs organize a little surprise for Kurt when he returns, and of course, a lot of mischievous bamf antics too, along with a tidal wave of them crashing down in Kurt when he returns lol. Just fluffy bamf stuff, along with some romantic kisses and such to Kurt since the reader missed him. Also, take your time with writing anything; burnout is awful so take all the time you need with whatever you write 💙' - @hulkingharbor

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader

Warnings: None <3 .. WC: 3.1k

A/N: I tried to write more detail than my usual works, so I hope that shows ;; I love any scenario with the bamfs, I was really happy to write this one <3

It had been several days since Kurt and the team embarked on a significant mission, leaving you behind at the mansion with the mischievous bamfs. The waiting seemed interminable, each hour stretching into eternity as you anxiously anticipated their return. Initially, you had anticipated a lengthy mission, given that their destination was clear across the country. However, you had reasoned that the team's advanced jet would facilitate a relatively swift journey. Despite this logical assumption, their absence extended far beyond your expectations, each passing day amplifying your concern and restlessness.

As time wore on, you couldn't help but notice a parallel between your own growing unease and the increasingly erratic behavior of the bamfs. These impish creatures, usually a source of playful chaos, seemed to be mirroring your mounting anxiety. With each day that ticked by without word from Kurt and the team, the bamfs' antics escalated in both frequency and audacity. Their usual pranks and mischief-making took on a new intensity, as if they too were feeling the strain of the prolonged separation from their teleporting brethren.

You found yourself constantly torn between amusement at the bamfs' increasingly elaborate hijinks and genuine worry about the state of disarray they were leaving the mansion in. It was clear that their escalating troublemaking was a direct result of their own anxiety and boredom in Kurt's absence. As you attempted to maintain order and keep the bamfs in check, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something must have gone awry with the mission to cause such an extended delay.

Those mischievous little blue creatures hadn't intended to create additional work for you, but their overwhelming anxieties were proving difficult to manage. Their deep attachment to Kurt had left them feeling lost and restless, causing their typically playful behavior to escalate into something more chaotic. Even for someone as patient and understanding as you, their antics were beginning to push the boundaries of what you could handle.

Bamfs, by their very nature, were creatures of boundless energy and enthusiasm. Their penchant for play and their constant scampering about were endearing traits, but they also came with considerable drawbacks. Wherever the blue imps went, a trail of disarray and mess inevitably followed in their wake. You had gone to great lengths to alleviate their stress and channel their energies in more constructive ways.

Your efforts were nurturing, as that was all you could think to do - you'd introduced a wide array of activities designed to engage their curious minds and active bodies. From art projects that allowed them to express their creativity through painting, to an assortment of toys meant to captivate their attention, and even challenging puzzles to stimulate their intellect. However, the bamfs' short attention spans and seemingly insatiable need for novelty meant that these diversions were often short-lived.

They would either master the tasks too quickly, their natural aptitude for mischief allowing them to breeze through what you had hoped would occupy them for hours, or they would simply lose interest, their restless spirits already seeking the next source of excitement.

Kurt's continued absence was palpable, and its effects were evident in the demeanor of the bamfs. These small creatures were not only still visibly anxious but also profoundly sad. Their usually vibrant yellow eyes had taken on a somber appearance, wide and glossy with unshed tears. The depth of their distress was such that some of them appeared too melancholy even to find solace in sleep. As you gently guided them towards their resting places, their movements were slow and labored, a stark contrast to their usual energetic behavior. Their tails, typically held high and swaying with life, now dragged listlessly behind them, creating a poignant visual representation of their emotional state. Observing their profound sadness, you felt a deep ache in your heart. The sight of these usually cheerful creatures so utterly dejected hurt your heart terribly.

"It's going to be okay... I know you miss him terribly. He'll be back soon, I promise you that. Kurt wouldn't leave you little rascals behind for long," you hummed softly, your voice gentle and soothing as you tried to comfort them. You spoke in a calm, reassuring tone, hoping your words would help ease their distress. Deep down, you knew that mere words couldn't fully alleviate their sadness, and you could see the lingering sorrow etched on their faces. It was clear that your attempts at consolation weren't having the desired effect.

A wave of empathy washed over you as you witnessed their dejected state. Your heart ached seeing them so forlorn and melancholy. Unable to stand their sadness any longer, you reached out and gently petted one of them, your touch conveying the comfort that words couldn't. "It's alright, little ones... I know, I know. It's sad when Kurt goes away, isn't it? I understand how much you want to be with him right now. But you have to remember, they said the mission was far too dangerous for you to join. Kurt cares about your safety above all else."

As anticipated, the bamfs reacted unfavorably to the news. These diminutive creatures had a well-known tendency to respond negatively when faced with any form of denial or refusal. Their sensitivity to disappointment was particularly evident in this instance. Consequently, you experienced a pang of guilt when you observed some of them beginning to weep, clearly longing for Kurt's presence. The sound of their tiny, mournful cries intensified your feelings of remorse, prompting you to take immediate action to console them. "There, there... it's alright... everything will be okay," you murmured in a soothing tone, your voice barely above a whisper. You delicately stroked their small heads with a tender touch, your fingers moving in slow, comforting circles. While comforting them, you carefully tucked them into the soft, warm blankets, ensuring they were snugly enveloped in the cozy fabric.

Finally, the bamfs had already settled in, their small forms nestled comfortably on the bed. With a heavy sigh, you lowered yourself onto the mattress beside them, feeling the soft give of the bedding beneath you. As you lay there, your eyes gradually drifted closed, and you felt yourself slowly slipping into slumber, surrounded by the comforting presence of the bamfs.

The absence of Kurt was hard on all of you, a void that seemed to hang in the air around you all. You couldn't help but dwell on the fact that this particular mission he was on carried more risk than usual, a thought that gnawed at the edges of your mind and left you feeling uneasy. So many thoughts ran across your mind, so many things that could go wrong. You tried to ignore them. Despite your own worries, you made a conscious effort to maintain a calm demeanor for the sake of the bamfs. You didn't want to burden them with the full extent of your concerns, so you carefully downplayed the situation, offering reassuring words and gentle smiles whenever they looked to you for comfort.

As you drifted off to sleep, your subconscious mind continued to process the day's events and your lingering anxieties. Your slumber was punctuated by brief moments of restlessness, your dreams tinged with vague unease. Despite these occasional disturbances, you managed to make it through the night.

The subsequent days were filled with the same worry. Despite your best efforts to maintain a calm demeanor for the sake of the bamfs, they possessed an innate ability to perceive your growing anxiety regarding Kurt's return. Those little things had keen intuition, which allowed them to sense your inner turmoil, even as you attempted to mask it. In Kurt's absence, the bamfs looked to you for guidance, support, and reassurance. Their bright yellow eyes, brimming with innocence and need, gazed upon you with an intensity that both touched and burdened your heart.

As the weight of responsibility settled heavily upon your shoulders, you found yourself giving a deep, weary sigh. Slowly, you sat up from the comfort of the couch, your movements betraying the emotional exhaustion you felt. Turning to face the expectant bamfs, you addressed them with a voice tinged with regret and frustration. "I'm sorry, little ones... I still haven't received any word from him," you muttered, your tone conveying the disappointment and concern that had become all too familiar in recent days.

Even as you spoke those words, a part of you knew, with a mixture of resignation and hope, that you likely wouldn't hear from Kurt until the moment he stepped through the door, returning home once again.

You were leisurely preparing a meal for yourself in the kitchen, your movements slow and deliberate as you chopped vegetables and stirred pots on the stove. Your mind had drifted into a zoned out, almost meditative state, focused solely on the rhythmic motions of cooking to distract from the anxieties you had felt the past few days. Suddenly, the sharp vibration of your phone on the counter jolted you back to full awareness, breaking through your culinary reverie. With a slight start, you reached out and grasped the device, your fingers wrapping around its familiar shape. As you lifted it to eye level, the screen illuminated, revealing a notification that made your heart beat faster. Your eyes quickly scanned the message preview, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you saw that it was from Kurt.

'On the way back, liebe...should be back by tonight. xo <3'

You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief and joy wash over you. The news you had been impatiently waiting for had finally arrived �� he was okay, and he would be returning home soon! Your heart swelled with excitement and anticipation. Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you found yourself instinctively beginning to tidy up the house, eager to create a welcoming atmosphere for his arrival.

As you bustled about, your gaze fell upon the bamfs, those adorable little creatures currently engrossed in whatever was playing on the television. A warm smile spread across your face as you decided to share the wonderful news with them. "Kurt's coming home tonight," you announced, your voice brimming with happiness and barely contained excitement. You paused for a moment, an idea forming in your mind. "So... why don't we work together to make this place a bit neater to welcome him? I'm sure he'd appreciate coming back to a tidy home, don't you think?"

The bamfs, upon hearing the news of Kurt's imminent return, all simultaneously broke into the biggest, most infectious grins you had ever seen. Their eyes lit up with excitement, and without a moment's hesitation, they leapt to their feet, their previous TV-induced stupor completely forgotten. It was clear that they were not only ready but eager to help, their enthusiasm matching your own. The prospect of preparing a warm welcome for Kurt had energized them.

They were all pitching in, diligently sweeping floors, wiping surfaces, and tidying up various corners of the house. To an outsider, the home might have appeared to be in a state of disarray, but you understood that there was a method to the apparent madness. The organized chaos was actually a well-oiled system in motion, each participant playing their part in the grand scheme of cleaning.

As a thoughtful gesture, you decided to bake a special German treat for Kurt to enjoy upon his return, one of his favorites. The bamfs were eager to assist in any way they could, though their help often bordered on playful interference. They showed particular interest in the baking process, their eyes widening with excitement at the sight of the mixing bowl filled with tempting batter.

As you mixed the bowl, the bamfs began squabbling over who would get the coveted privilege of licking the mixer attachments. Their enthusiasm quickly escalated, and before long, two of them were engaged in a spirited tussle on the kitchen counter. Gentle nips and acrobatic tumbles came from the pair of brawling bamfs, it was an amusing spectacle that you couldn't help but find endearing, despite the potential mess.

"Hey, hey! That's quite enough of that..." you intervened, carefully separating the two squabbling bamfs. With a patient smile, you addressed them, "You can both have some. There's plenty to go around. Now, let's sit down and behave ourselves, shall we? We just cleaned up after all." You handed them each a spoon laden with leftover batter, hoping it would satisfy their sweet tooth and curb their exuberance.

As you watched them eagerly lick their spoons, you couldn't help but let out a small sigh. The love you felt for these energetic imps was undeniable, but you had to admit that their hyperactive nature was starting to wear on you. The thought of Kurt returning home and lending a hand in managing the lively bunch brought a sense of relief.

That evening seemed to stretch on endlessly, the minutes ticking by at an agonizingly slow pace. You found yourself gathered on the couch with the blue babies, anxiously awaiting any sign of his return. The tv played something you only half paid attention to, your mind more focused on Kurt coming home than anything else. The air was thick with anticipation, and every small noise made you perk up in hope. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was a familiar BAMF - a sound that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. In an instant, a cloud of dark, sulfurous smoke materialized in the room, dissipating to reveal that cheeky German standing before you.

Kurt Wagner, in all his blue-furred glory, had returned at last.

He looked utterly exhausted, his posture slightly slumped and his golden eyes a bit dimmer than usual, but otherwise, he appeared to be okay, no injuries that you could see. A wave of relief washed over you, and your heart swelled with joy at the sight of him. Without a moment's hesitation, you sat up quickly, your voice filled with excitement and relief as you exclaimed, "Kurt!"

The reaction from the bamfs was instantaneous and overwhelming. Like a tidal wave of blue fur and enthusiasm, they surged forward en masse, their tiny forms blurring together in their haste. With surprising speed and coordination, they converged on Kurt, tackling him with such force that he stumbled backward, barely managing to keep his footing. In seconds, he was completely engulfed by the swarm of miniature teleporters, each one vying for the best position to snuggle as close as possible.

They climbed over each other, chirping and cooing in delight, their little hands grasping at his costume and fur. It was a heartwarming yet slightly comical sight - the tall, lean figure of Nightcrawler almost completely obscured by a writhing mass of adoring bamfs, all competing fiercely for his attention and affection. You could see his tail wagging up from the pile, which made you laugh lightly, that was all you could see of your darling boyfriend.

"Okay, okay, my turn! I missed him too!" You exclaimed with a mixture of excitement and impatience, slowly but determinedly wiggling your way into the welcoming pile of bodies until you finally found him. As your eyes met his, a warm smile spread across his face, his sharp fangs peeking out endearingly from beneath his upper lip.

"Liebe...oh, how I've missed you..." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. In one swift motion, he enveloped you in his strong arms, pulling you close against his chest in a tight, all-encompassing embrace. You felt him bury his face in your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize your scent all over again. The weariness in his movements was extremely noticeable; you could sense how utterly exhausted he was, yet there was an unmistakable joy radiating from him at finally being home.

You pulled back just enough to kiss him, your lips meeting his gently, lovingly, tenderly. The softness of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you both savored the precious moment of reconnection. Time seemed to stand still as you basked in the warmth of each other's embrace, your hearts beating in perfect synchronization. As the seconds ticked by, the initial gentleness of your kiss gradually transformed into something more intense and passionate. You felt a growing urgency in his touch, a desperate need to be closer to you after your time apart. His hands gripping your hips with increased fervor, pulling you closer against him. The kiss deepened, his tongue seeking entrance, which you gladly granted.

As your tongues danced and explored, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of passion and desire. Just as you were losing yourself completely in the moment, a small, unexpected chirp pierced through the haze of your passion. One of the bamfs had inadvertently interrupted your intimate moment. The sudden sound startled you both, effectively breaking the spell that had enveloped you. Reluctantly, he pulled back, his eyes still clouded with desire but now tinged with a hint of embarrassment at getting a bit too carried away.

"Ach...apologies, liebling...I...I just missed you so much..." he murmured, his accent thicker than usual, betraying the depth of his emotions. His golden eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of love, longing, and a touch of sheepishness at his loss of control. Despite the interruption, the air between you still crackled with unresolved tension, a testament to the strength of your connection and the depth of your feelings for each other.

"It's alright, my love," you whispered soothingly, gently squeezing his hand. "You've had such a long and tiring journey. How about we get you to bed for a little while? All the bamfs and I are absolutely thrilled to have the chance to cuddle up with you again..." Your voice was filled with warmth and affection as you spoke. You leaned in and gave him a tender, lingering kiss on the cheek, then carefully helped him to his feet. Kurt didn't hesitate to agree, gratitude evident in his weary smile. The dark circles under his eyes were a clear testament to his exhaustion, hinting at the many sleepless nights he must have endured during his time away.

"Ja, okay..." he replied with a soft smile, his golden eyes twinkling with affection. Kurt eagerly followed you to bed, his tail swaying gently behind him as he walked. He was looking forward to getting some well-deserved rest after a long mission, he’d give you all the details later. The thought of being surrounded by the love of his life - you - and his beloved bamfs filled him with a warm, comforting feeling. As he settled into bed, he could already feel the stress of the day melting away, you curled beside him and the bamfs all around. He couldn’t be any more comfortable as sleep quickly took him.

"Sleep well..." you gave him a sweet, soft kiss on the forehead, letting him nuzzle into your chest and sleep.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image: Nightcrawler (2014) #2

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #xmen #x men #x men 97 #🎠my works

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springtyme · 10 months ago

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51 ✨ for carmy 🐻

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐀𝐭 𝐀 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 ♡

Thank you for the request, anon! I hope you like it 💕

Carmen Berzatto x reader || Carmy playlist || Main masterlist

51: “I can’t live without you.”

The strain of Carmy's new responsibilities at The Beef has taken a toll on your relationship, leaving you worried and questioning your place in his life. And you're scared, but not for the reason Carmy thinks.

Angst (with a happy ending). Hurt/comfort. Mention of what happened to Michael.

word count: 2.1k

You stand in the dimly lit hallway of your apartment, anxiously tapping your foot against the worn floorboards. It’s late, much later than Carmen had told you he would be home. The clock on the wall mocks you with its ticking, each second feeling like an eternity.

Your relationship with Carmen has been strained lately, the weight of his responsibilities after taking over The Beef after Micheal’s death has taken a toll on both of you.

You and Carmen had met in New York, about two years ago, when he had moved into the apartment next to yours. You had not looked for a relationship and neither had Carmen, but it was like fate had kept pushing the two of you together.

It had just started out with a few chance encounters in the hallway or at the local grocery store, with him stumbling slightly over his words as he asked you about your day or offered to carry your groceries.

But it had been a power outage which had left the whole building in darkness that really had brought you together. You had fumbled your way out in the hallway to figure out if it was just your apartment that had lost power or if it was the whole building. And that’s when you had bumped into Carmen, literally. His strong arms had wrapped around you instinctually, preventing you from falling on your ass.

You had candles in your apartment, unlike Carmen so you had invited him in to share the light and wait for the power to be restored. As the hours passed, you two ended up talking and getting to know each other better. It was a simple yet intimate evening, and from that moment on, you felt a connection that you couldn’t ignore and a sweet friendship had blossomed between you.

He didn’t have much time off, literally working at one of the best restaurants in the world, but the moments you did spend together were cherished, and it hadn’t taken long before your connection had grown even stronger, evolving into something more than just friendship and eventually blossoming into a real and deep relationship.

You had not hesitated to say yes to move back to Chicago with him after his brother had passed away.

You never got to meet Michael, Carmen didn’t really speak to him through all the time you dated, you've never fully understood what had happened between them, but you have a feeling that Carmen didn't really knew it either, and he has never really liked talking about his family in general, but you do know that he loved Michael a lot.

You had tried to convince him to go to the funeral, telling him that you would be there for him, but he had kept shooting the idea down. He kept excusing it by saying that he couldn’t, his contract at the French Laundromat hadn’t expired yet, and despite that being true, you had a feeling that going to the funeral would make the loss of his brother feel all the more real, and that was something he wasn’t ready for.

You also had the feeling that he didn’t want to see his mother, at least not in that setting, so you had just decided that you would let him grieve in his own way, and just be there for him in whatever way he needed you to.

It had been the same you had done with his job after all.

You know that he had loved his job in New York, in his own fucked up way. It was a messed up, down right toxic, work environment, and it had hurt to see him come home every night, tired to the bone, both physically and emotionally drained, yet he kept doing it. His ineffable love for the culinary arts that just couldn’t be extinguished kept him going. It is just after you moved to Chicago a month ago that he told you that he would throw up every morning before work.

It crushed you to hear that Carmen was suffering silently, but you understood why he continued to push through. The restaurant industry was demanding and competitive, and Carmen was determined to prove himself. You had hoped that the move to Chicago would bring some relief, a fresh start away from the toxicity of his previous job. However, the weight of his responsibilities at The Beef seemed to have only deepened the strain on your relationship.

You love him, and you want to be there for him, no matter what. But the constant absence and distance have started to make you question where you stand in his life. But most of all you’re just sad that he is sad, or really it's more that you're sad that he is in a situation that should make him sad, it's like he doesn’t even really allow himself to be sad, and that really hurts to watch.

You try to push away those negative thoughts, you try yo remind yourself that Carmen is just going through a difficult time, but that just makes the worried feeling in the pit of your stomach feel even heavier.

As the front door finally creaks open, your heart skips a beat. Carmen steps inside, his weary eyes meeting yours. The exhaustion etched on his face is painfully evident, and your worry intensifies, yet you're just so happy to see him. As he slides off his jacket his white t-shirt comes into view, it’s stained with sauces and his hands bear the marks of countless hours spent in the kitchen, but it’s the weariness in his eyes that tears at your heart.

“Hey,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse from lack of rest. “Why are you still up?

You muster a small smile, trying to hide your concern. “I couldn’t sleep,” you admit softly, stepping closer to him. “I was worried about you. You said you’d be home earlier.”

Carmen sighs heavily, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I know, I’m sorry, it was just... things got really busy tonight.”

You nod, biting your lip to hold back the words that threaten to spill out. You want to scream at him, not from a place of anger, but frustration, to make him understand that his health is more important than any sandwich on the menu. But you also know that he pours everything he got into the restaurant.

“I’m just worried about you, Carmy,” you finally manage to say, your voice tinged with both frustration and concern. “You work yourself to the bone, and it’s taking a toll on you. I can’t bear to see you like this.”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know, but there is not much I can do about it, okay. I’m sorry for putting you through this. But I can’t just abandon the restaurant. If I don’t fix it Jimmy’s gonna sell it and turn it into a fucking Applebee’s.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you take a step closer to him. “I get that, Carm. I do. But you need to take care of yourself too. It hurts seeing you like this.”

Carmen looks at you, his tired eyes searching your face. There’s a mix of frustration and resignation in his gaze, as if he knows you’re right but doesn’t know how to change the situation. The weight of his responsibilities seems to visibly crush him, and it breaks your heart.

“I know, I know,” Carmen says, his voice tinged with defeat. “But it’s not that simple. The Beef is struggling, and I need to turn it around. I can’t just walk away.”

Your frustration builds, and you can’t help but argue back. “I understand that, Carmy, but you also can’t sacrifice your well-being for the sake of this restaurant. There has to be a way to find a balance, to take care of yourself too.”

“I know I need to take care of myself, and I don’t want to keep putting you through this,” his voice taking on a more frustrating tone, he isn’t yelling, but there’s an edge to it. “But I just... I don’t know how to do that right now, okay”

The tone of his voice makes you pause for a moment, he has never talked to you like that before and you can’t help but slightly flinch. You know that he is just frustrated but it still makes you feel a deep pang of hurt. It’s not that you’re scared or anything, you know that he would never ever hurt you, you’re just sad that it has come to this.

But seeing you flinch clearly affects Carmen, his frustrated expression softening, turning into an expression of guilt and regret instead.

You swallow the lump in your throat and take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure before saying what you need to say. “I love you, Carmen, and I want you to be happy. But I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself in the process.” you’re taking a deep breath before continuing, “you’re scaring me.”

Carmen’s gaze meets yours, the expression in his eyes breaking your heart. “I never wanted to scare you. And I-I would never hurt you.”

This makes your heart break even more, yes you had flinched at his tone of voice, but not because you in any way had thought he would physically hurt you, never. The thing you’re scared of is that he’ll end up hurting himself…

You reach out to take Carmen’s hand, wanting to assure him that you understand his intentions, but also wanting to convey the depth of your concern.

“I’m not scared you’ll hurt me, Carm. I know you’d never do that. I’m scared you’ll hurt yourself.” Tears are now streaming down your cheeks, your voice trembling as you’re about to unveil your biggest fear in all of this. “I just don’t want you to end up like Micheal, okay… I was scared that the reason you didn’t come home was because you had blown your brains out on a bridge somewhere.”

Carmen’s eyes widen at your words, a mixture of shock and pain flashing across his face.

He reaches out to gently wipe away your tears, his touch warm and comforting. “I’m not going to end up like Michael,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. “I promise you, I could never do that to you.”

You hold onto his hand tightly, desperately seeking reassurance. “But Carmy, you’re pushing yourself so hard. You’re not taking care of yourself, and it scares me. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t live without you.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you as if he never wants to let go. “You don’t have to, I promise you.” His voice cracks with emotion, and you can feel his tears dampening your shoulder.

You hold onto him just as tightly, your heart breaking for the pain he’s been carrying alone and you’re just so happy that he is finally letting himself cry.

Carmen pulls away slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of gratitude and determination. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m so grateful to have you by my side.”

You smile through your tears, relieved to see him opening up and acknowledging the need for change. “We’ll figure it out together. We’ll find a way to make things work.”

“Yeah, we will,” he nods, before continuing. “I… I actually started going to Al-Anon, I go three times a week.”

You’re taken aback by Carmen’s revelation, but also immensely proud of him for taking this step. You gently squeeze his hand, your love for him growing with each passing moment. “That’s amazing, Carm,” you say softly. “For how long?”

“I started going two weeks ago, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything earlier,” he admits, a hint of shame in his voice. “I guess I just needed to take it in my own tempo.”

You shake your head, wiping away your remaining tears. “It’s okay, Carm, I’m just so glad you’re looking out for yourself.”

Carmen takes a deep breath, his gaze filled with renewed determination. “I really don’t deserve you, thank you for not giving up on me, even when I pushed you away. I love you so much, and I promise I’ll find a way to make this work.”

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling a sense of hope and unity. “I love you too, Carmy. And yeah, we’ll face this together, one step at a time.”

Thank you for reading! ♡ this is my first time writing for Carmy and I had such a blast writing for him, but I also was a little intimidated by this piece, so please let me know what you thought ♡

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redfoxwritesstuff · 2 months ago

Text

Hate Mail (Human!Alastor x Reader)

CW: Rough oral, Dub con Rated: Adult Part 1 of 2 (Part 2 here) Summary: Alastor has been on the receiving end of some nasty letters at the station. With the help of some rather unique penmanship and a stroke of luck, the culprit finds herself in his crosshairs. What sort of lesson will Alastor teach his little hate fan and how will that change when he uncovers the reason why she is sending him the letters? Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

Alastor leaned back in his chair, old springs creaking under his weight, letting the dim light filtering in from the closed blinds illuminate the envelope in his hand. He could get a new chair. It wasn’t out of his or the station’s budget, but he liked this one. The way it creaked reminded him of all that he had gone through, sitting in that chair as he worked his way to where he was now, hosting his own evening show. He had taken it from office to office, as he had moved around the station, working his way up.

The chair creaked its protest and requests for retirement as he shifted again, running the blade of the letter opener under the fold of the envelope. The sound of ripping paper joined the soft noises that filled the small office, along with the ticking of the clock.

The sender had written the station address on the front of the envelope, above his name. Inside he would find a folded piece of stationary, thin but covered in a distinctive penmanship, just he had found in the last near dozen envelopes just like it. Did you know how uniquely you wrote your As?

It was only a matter of time before Alastor found the source of this disrespectful dribble and made the sender pay for it. He was determined, and there was one thing that was always true about him; he always accomplished what he set his mind to.

Inside, Alastor found the same filth he had grown to expect. He didn’t bother doing anything more than glancing over the words. It was the same message he got every week, just worded differently.

Whoever you were, you lacked creativity. Alastor sighed as he pulled open his desk drawer, tossing the paper onto the stack of similar notes. This had been allowed to go on for long enough.

For each one he received, Alastor was determined to make the sender pay. First, he needed to find you. It was quickly becoming a habit to watch people as they wrote, but he had yet to find that little letter that would give you away. That’s alright. He knew it was just a matter of time. You couldn’t hide from him forever.

Alastor closed the drawer, chair creaking as he stood. He had a few hours until showtime, but he had time to kill. It hadn’t taken him nearly as long as he had expected to finish the scripts for the week. Glancing at the clock, he elected to take an early dinner break. There was a deli not too far from the station that served delicious sandwiches, and he was hungry.

He shut the office door behind him as he stepped out into the hall. Much to his dismay, he found himself instantly faced with the company of Scotty, the sportscaster who cared more about baseball than anything else. Alastor was fairly certain the man hadn’t picked up a book in a distressingly long time.

“Al, old pal!” Scotty clapped Alastor on the back in greeting. Alastor smiled wider, thinking about how good it would feel to clap Scotty across the jaw with his fist.

“You going out?” The man spoke plainly, not bothering with the transatlantic accent when off the air.

“I am,” Alastor’s voice came clearly, clipped and proper. He spoke the same on and off the air, unless in the private of his own home and even then, it wasn’t unheard of for the accent to be more of a habit than a show.

“The currier is here, a total doll too.” Scotty gushed, “You should go downstairs and see her.”

“I’m not interested,” Alastor waved the smaller man off. “Thank you for looking out for me, however.”

“At least stop by, say hello. I bet she’s a fan of our quickly rising star!” Scotty laughed as he walked down the hallway, letting Alastor free of the conversation.

With a shake of his head, Alastor started down the stairs. Today he had lucked out, Scotty hadn’t wanted to linger and chat. Any evening where he didn’t have to pretend to care about the rehashing of the last ballgame as a good way to start the evening.

“Oh, Mr. Moreau!” The woman who manned the information desk called. She was an eager blonde, curls bouncing as she waved him over. “Come meet my old school friend!”

~~~~~<3

“Sarah, no.” You hissed, looking between the man walking over from the staircase and your friend. “I need to get back to work.”

“It’ll be fine,” Sarah assured you, snagging your clipboard from your hands. “I still need to sign this, anyway.”

“Hello, Ladies.” Alastor greeted as he strode up, soft smile reaching his warm brown eyes.

You did everything you could to avoid looking at the tall man. He was handsome, fluffy brown hair bouncing with each step he had taken. His skin was just a touch too tan for what you had expected, but it was his eyes that threatened to capture your attention. They were the color of coffee, just splashed with the slightest hint of cream.

“Hello,” you squeaked out, trying to not look at him.

“Was there something you needed?” Alastor asked, looking between Sarah and you as you avoided his eyes.

“No,” you said quickly, only to have Sarah talk over you.

“This is my good friend,” she said, introducing you to the last man you ever wanted to meet face to face.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alastor said, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles as he purred your name, “quite a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” you mumbled, reaching for your clipboard, only to knock it from the high countertop around the information desk. It clattered to the ground at Alastor’s feet.

“Oh, dear!” Alastor’s voice was far too cheery as he reached down, picking up your clipboard. He slowed for a moment, eyes scanning the page before he handed it to you. “I believe this belongs to you.”

“Yes,” You snatched it from his hands, “thank you.”

“You have lovely handwriting, my dear.” Alastor leaned into your space, just enough to make you aware he was doing it, but not so much to be improper.

“Thank you,” you stuttered out, clutching the clipboard to your chest. “I should get back to the office. I’m sure there’s… there’s something for me to deliver.”

“Oh!” Alastor snapped his fingers, smile spreading wider. “I forgot. I have a package I need to send off.”

“I can wait-” Alastor cut you off before you finished the sentence, forcing you into silence.

“Nonsense,” Alastor’s hand came to rest on the small of your back, pushing you ever so slightly to walk along with him, “walk with me. I’ll show you around.”

“Oh, okay.” You struggled to find a polite way to talk your way out of the situation you found yourself in. Dread balled in the pit of your stomach, not budging as you tried to tell yourself that it was nonsense.

The pressure of his hand on the small of your back was all you could think about. You tried again and again to remind yourself how much you hated him. Keeping that thought in the front of your mind was a struggle. It was easier to hate him when you didn’t know that he had such a handsome face to go with his smoothe voice.

You hated him because he was popular. You hated him because he was successful. You hated him because women fell at his feet and he couldn’t bother to even court a woman most of the time. Most of all, you hated him because he had the life you wished you had.

“Just step inside my office,” Alastor urged you forward with the hand that never left the small of your back, from the moment you left the information desk and the safety of your friend. “It’s just at my desk.”

“Oh no,” you looked at him, shaking your head. “I couldn’t-”

“Please,” the pressure on your back grew firmer, leaving you little choice but to step forward. “I insist. It’ll be far easier for you to pick up the delivery if you do.”

You didn’t understand what he was saying, but you had little chance of resisting. The pressure on the small of your back was firm and unyielding, reminding you of who was in control every step you had taken together. It was hard not to stumble slightly as he all but pushed you inside his office, the door clicking shut behind him.

“Mr. Moreau?”

“Alastor, please.” He held his arm out toward his desk. “Now be a good girl and go over to the desk. I have some letters I need delivered rather urgently.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, sending blood roaring through your ears as you took timid steps toward his imposing wooden desk . The surface was littered with papers, some having doodles with circled words of commentary.

Behind you, there was a click that sounded disturbingly like that of a lock turning. Looking over your shoulder, you watched as Alastor took a few steps into the room. His smile spread wickedly wide across his face, a cartoonish grin of mock reassurance.

He didn’t know. You told yourself that again and again. There was no way he could know. You had been careful. You sent every letter anonymously.

There were no packages on his desk, you realized as your eyes scanned the surface. Nothing hid behind stacks of papers or file holders.

“In the drawer,” Alastor’s voice came from over your shoulder, nearly spoken directly into your ear. A squeak escaped your lips as you jumped, startled nearly out of your skin. He had crossed the room both quickly and near silently. “It’s unlocked.”

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping around to the other side of his desk, grateful for the chance to put some distance between you and him.

Alastor followed you, an ever present shadow looming behind you, standing too close as you stopped again. His breath ghosted over your shoulder as you tried to do your best to ignore it.

Bending slightly, you pulled the drawer open. It rattled as you opened it, not sliding smoothly along the tracks. It wasn’t a terribly deep drawer, but inside you found a stack of folded papers and ripped envelopes.

“Take it out.” Alastor spoke softly behind you. He was always behind you, a shadow you could not shake.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out. “Which ones?”

“Whichever ones you want,” Alastor said, shrugging, though you could not see it.

You swallowed as you picked up a few folded papers. They felt the same as the stationery you had back in your house. It felt the same as the paper you had used to- no.

It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. No.

“Read it.” Alastor’s tone was firm, but his voice was as warm as it had been. You clung to that warmth.

Your fingers trembled as you unfolded the first paper. It shook, making it hard to read the words carefully printed. It didn’t matter; you didn’t need to see the words to know what they said. You had penned the words yourself just a few weeks prior.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I don’t understand.”

“Well,” Alastor chuckled darkly, “I have to say you did a very good job!”

“I don’t-?” You turned to find Alastor standing directly behind you once again, far too close for comfort, let alone propriety.

“You delivered the package for me, ever so swiftly!” Alastor laughed at his joke. “Did you know you’ve got a very distinctive way to write your letter A?”

“I beg your pardon?” You stepped away, only gaining yourself a few inches of space as your hip hit his desk.

“Is there something wrong?” Alastor asked, stepping closer, stealing back what little space you had claimed. “Is there something you’d like to tell me to my face?”

“N-no?” You looked everywhere but at Alastor and to him, that simply would not do. Slender fingers reached out, taking hold of your chin. His grip was far stronger than you had expected from such thin fingers as he forced your eyes to meet his.

“Well?” Alastor asked, hand hitting the desk, trapping you between him and his office chair. His other hand quickly followed, properly caging you in. You knew he was close but as you turned to face him, you found yourself nearly chest to chest with him.

“I don’t-”

“You don’t understand,” Alastor mocked, smile holding a dangerous glint. “You seem to not understand a lot of things.”

“Sir, I- I should go.” You stammered out, clinging hope. Sarah knew where you were. She would surely question if you did not come down the stairs soon.

“It would be rude to leave in the middle of a conversation,” Alastor whispered into your ear, “and we’re not done talking.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” You tried to duck under his arm, only to have his elbow fold, pushing him further into your space.

“Ha! We do though!” Alastor’s chuckle was rich, warmer than it sounded on the radio, and yet it sent a shiver running down your spine. “We should talk about how you have a very distinctive way of writing your letter A, for one. Ignoring it will not make me forget.”

Alastor plucked the clipboard from your hands, flipping it so he could look at your writing. You watched as his eyes scanned over the page. It took longer than it should have for you to realize he had left an opening, though slight, that you could use to escape.

You took a deep breath and darted out from between Alastor and his desk. Pain jumped through you as your hip smashed into the corner of the desk. It sent tingles down your leg, but you refused to let that stop you.

Oh fuck, he knew.

You knew he knew.

It was such a terrible decision. You’d had too much to drink at a speakeasy, dragged yourself home and found the sound of his voice worked you up. Being a good girl, you couldn’t do anything about it. It made you angry, knowing that other women were having what they desired that night and you were alone, wanting.

So instead of pursuing someone to court you, you wrote letters to the host with the velvet voice. Once you posted the first letter, it was like you had uncorked a bottle inside you that you hadn’t been aware of. You kept having these feelings for the man with the voice.

A man you had never met occupied your mind during much of your waking moments. The sound of his voice haunted your dreams. A man you had never even seen became your personal ghost. There was nothing you could do to exercise it but keep letting those feeling out in aggressive, angry letters. You spewed vile things at a man that sparked things you didn’t want to face in yourself, not expecting the man himself to actually read them.

But he did. You had accounted for everything, changed how you wrote even, but you didn’t account for one thing. You wrote the fucking letter A weird, even after carefully shaping every letter you penned.

You didn’t make it far at all. As you rounded the desk, his strong hand wrapped around your wrist. Pain flared in your arm as it pulled back behind you, forcing you to turn toward him.

Alastor yanked on your arm, harshly, upsetting your balance and sending you to the ground at his feet.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” You begged. “I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t think they’d make it to you, that you’d read them.”

“Your mouth is so good at talking the good talk. Yapping. But how are you going to make this up to me?” Alastor leaned down, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look up at him. “Words have power, my dear. Did you know that? That is why I’m so good at what I do. Your words hurt me.” Alastor was lying. He found your letters to be little more than a disrespectful annoyance, but oh, you needed to be taught a lesson.

You rubbed your thighs together, not even aware of the movement as you did it. Fear was the only thing you were aware of feeling, but there was an undercurrent of something else that you refused to look at. It was that same evil feeling that the sound of his voice coming through your radio speakers in the evenings sparked inside you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, meaning it more than you had ever meant it in your life.

“Part of being sorry is making recompense, didn’t your mother teach you that?” Alastor was lecturing, keeping your eyes on him as he spoke each word, squeezing your jaw any time your eyes darted away. You feared there would be bruises come morning.

“Yes, sir.” It was hard to speak with his grip on your jaw. He had your head pulled up so much that your neck ached and yet, you couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together.

Alastor watched you, eyes darting over your face and down your torso to where your knees were planted on the hard ground of his office. Oh, he realized as he watched your thighs brush against eachother; you liked this.

“Tell me, my dear,” Alastor’s grin spread wider. “Why did you write me those letters? Be truthful now. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“I-” Alastor squeezed your jaw when you hesitated. “Your voice, it made me… me feel things, and I took it out on you. It was wrong, I’m sorry.”

Alastor hummed, eyes watching your thighs as they rubbed together. Did you notice, or was your body betraying you? He was fairly certain it was the latter, and that you thought you were just shuffling to keep your balance as he pulled your spine tighter.

“What sort of things did my voice make you feel?” He leaned forward, elbow bending to ensure you continued be stretched by his grip.

Heat ran up your chest, racing up your neck and bloomed on your face. It felt like your ears were burning. You wanted to lie. You wanted to tell him anything but the truth. The look in his eyes told you that even trying to pass a lie off would be dangerous.

“Sinful things,” you said, his grip tightening urged you to be more specific. “Lustful thoughts.”

“From my voice?” Alastor chuckled as shame burned through you. “And you decided the best thing to do with your words was to say anything but that? Spew vile words of hate?”

“I couldn’t-”

“You couldn’t write me and say ‘Alastor, your voice makes my thighs rub together.’? or perhaps ‘Alastor, I touch myself to the sound of your voice.’?” As he spoke, Alastor hooked his thumb into his pocket, hip cocking as he rested his weight on one leg. “You wouldn’t be the first to send such letters.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Did you think you could say those things to me and I wouldn’t find out who you were? Did you think you would escape punishment?”

“No, sir- I-”

“But perhaps,” Alastor hooked his fingers through where his belt fed through the buckle, pulling it free from where it was secured, “that’s what you wanted.” He finished, letting his statement be punctuated by the clacking of his belt buckle as he finished unbuckling the belt.

“No, I-”

“Oh, but you do.” Bending at the waist, he brought his face so close to yours you could feel his breath wash over your face. “You’re just too timid to say it.”

The buckle of his belt clinked in the otherwise near silent room as he moved, unbuttoning his trousers and working the fly open. You looked up at him, shocked at the brazen behavior. You were not a blushing virgin, but you were also not well experienced in the ways of men. Never had you faced a situation where a man had been so forward with you.

“Please, I-”

“Yes, do keep begging.” Alastor mused, letting his fly fall open, pants now only being held up by his suspenders.

You opened your mouth to say something, to express your outrage somehow, but Alastor shoved his fingers inside your mouth instead. When you tried to recoil back in shock, he hooked his fingers into the soft underside of your mouth and pulled you forward.

“You’re going to put that lovely little mouth of yours to good use.” Alastor said menacing as he pulled his face closer again. “You’re going to make it up to me, every little lie you’ve written, every terrible thing you’ve sent me. It’s time that you pay for them. And you will pay for them, I assure you of that.”

“Yes, sir,” you struggled to say around his fingers. There wasn’t anything you could say to get you out of this. He was right, you would have to pay for what you had done. His forward actions, his anger excited part of you, that sinful part of you.

“Good,” Alastor said as he pulled his cock from his pants. He wasn’t as hard as you had expected, considering how forward he had been behaving. “Now put your mouth to good use, open wide.”

Putting pressure down on your jaw, he didn’t give you much choice but to follow his order or collapse to the ground. With his other hand, he guided his half-mast cock to rest on your lower lip.

“If you bite me, I assure you, it will be the last thing you do. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” you struggled to say.

Once satisfied, Alastor removed his fingers from your mouth and pushed his hips forward.

Never had you done something so lewd as what Alastor was clearly demanding from you. That didn’t stop you from wrapping your lips around his member and sucking. The suction pulled him slightly deeper into your mouth, but with no lubrication, that was as good as it was going to get.

You stuck your tongue out, running it around his shaft just past where your lips reached before trying again with slightly better results.

“You can touch me.” Alastor said snidely from above you. “Or are you too dumb to use your hands?”

Your reply was little more than a muffled sound as you reached up for him. Trembling fingers wrapped around his shaft, holding him steady as you pulled off of his cock, letting it fall from your lips with a pop. He twitched in front of your face, stiffer now than he had been before, but far from what you expected he could become.

You swallowed thickly, coming to terms with the fact that the price you would pay for your terrible decision was to pleasure the man. You could do this. Eyes flicked up to Alastor, reminding yourself that he was an attractive man. There were worse men in the world to pleasure, even if you were having to do so with your mouth.

One more deep breath and you leaned forward, sticking your tongue out and running your tongue over the underside of his cock. The skin was salty and velvety smooth under your tongue’s caress. He twitches against your lips, growing harder as you placed soft kisses and kitten licks along the slit in his head.

Once he was harder and covered with trails of your saliva along his length, you wrapped your lips around his cock again, pulling him deeper into your mouth as you sucked at him.

Bracing yourself against his thighs, you pushed your head forward, taking in as much of him as you could. When your lips caught on dry shaft, you pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva coating him. When the head of his cock was just kissing your lips, you sank down again. Your lips gathered the saliva that had been cooling on his skin, smearing it lower as you took him as deep as you could.

You repeated the process again and again, running your tongue around him. This wasn’t something you had ever done before. You were disgusted with yourself when you realized you were enjoying the feeling of running his cock in and out of your mouth. The feeling of his hips flexing, fighting back the urge to thrust, was as intoxicating as the musky smell of him, pure clean man.

The feeling of Alastor’s hand on the back of your head startled you out of the trance you had fallen into. Your eyes, having fallen to little more than slits, fluttered open to look up at him.

“Good girl, but you can do better, can’t you?” Alastor laughed as you blinked up at him.

He didn’t give you a chance to offer any sort of agreement. Hips bucked forward as his hand pushed your head forward. The soft head of his cock slammed into the back of your throat, causing you to cough. A rich moan fell from Alastor’s lips as your throat spasmed around him.

You gasped for breath as he pulled back, only to have your airway choked off as he thrust into your mouth again and again. Fingers bunched into the fabric of his pants as you looked up at him with wild, tearful eyes. His brown eyes, once seeming so warm, looked into yours with cold desire as tears ran down your cheeks.

“Swallow,” He said as he pressed the head of his cock into the back of your throat harder.

You did, though you hadn’t intended to. It was a reflex as you tried not to gag on him. The head of his cock pressed onward, cutting off what little ability you had to breathe.

“Relax,” he soothed, thumb caressing your head before he pulled you back off him. “Breathe, now.” He ordered as if you needed the encouragement.

After gasping two panicked breaths in through your nose and around his cock, he shoved you forward again, hips flexing. Again, he pressed against your throat and you knew what he wanted. Battling every instinct in your body, you tried to relax and swallow, allowing him to cut off your airway.

“Good girl,” you hated how your thighs twitched at the praise.

Alastor thrust into your throat again and again, each time taking his cock deeper was easier. That did nothing to calm the panic in your eyes, slow the tears running down your face, or relax your grip on his thighs.

“You’re taking me in your throat so good,” Alastor praised, working his cock past the back of your throat again and again, chasing his release now as he looked down at you.

Spit gathered, bubbles forming from your gasped attempts at breathing in a ring around the base of his cock. He could feel it dripping down his balls, soaking into his pants. It ran down your chin as well, dripping off in long strings as it soaked into your blouse.

“You look so pretty like this,” Alastor cooed as he lost his rhythm, release drawing near. “Taking your punishment so well. Won’t do that again, will you?”

Your throat vibrated around him as you tried to answer, unable to form anything more than a sound smothered by his cock. That was all it took for him to reach his peak, balls tightening as he shoved your head forward.

He twitched in your mouth, seed spilling down your throat in hot ropes. The curls at the base of his cock tickled your nose as he thrust deeper and deeper, not allowing you a moment to breathe. Seed poured into your throat, coating the back of your tongue when he would pull back, hardly giving you a chance for air before shoving forward again.

Black swam in front of your eyes as you pushed weakly against his thighs. Only when he no longer twitched did he pull you back from him enough for you to pull a proper breath into your burning lungs. When his hand left the back of your head, you fell to the ground in a heap.

Alastor stood over you, cock softening considerably and yet still standing on display. After a few moments, he knelt down next to you, fingers caressing down your arm. Your body shuddered as you gasped for air, throat raw from the abuse.

“You did very good for me,” Alastor spoke softly, “Very good indeed. I’m afraid I got a little carried away with you, didn’t I?”

“Please,” you whispered, looking up at Alastor with red-rimmed eyes, cheeks flushed.

“I know,” Alastor chuckled darkly, taking in how pretty you looked with your lips red and swollen. His cock, still hanging from the front of his trousers, twitched as he stiffened again. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

264 notes · View notes

drabblesandsnippets · 2 days ago

Text

Happy Birthday

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader

Summary: (1.5k) After your friends forget your birthday, a stranger interrupts your plans to celebrate by yourself.

Background: Requested by a lovely anon last night. Happy (belated) Birthday! May you find some better friends, as well as a sweet (and/or whatever you’re into 😏) Bucky!

Warnings: Disappointing birthday. Fluff. Meet cute? Very brief mention of insecurities (both). Sweet Bucky.

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

You aren’t expecting much on your birthday - a phone call, a text, maybe even a card in the mail from one of your friends - but, the day passes like any other.

Your phone remains relatively silent, devoid of new notifications every time you give in to the urge to look, the disappointment growing each time.

A bit of hope still remains, a part of you believing you’ll hear from at least one of them by the time evening comes, that there’ll be some sort of acknowledgement of a day that’s supposed to be celebrated.

Hours slowly tick by and still nothing. No one reaches out. Not one of your friends care enough to even remember to send a simple ‘Happy Birthday.’ And now it’s almost too late to do anything about it.

The impulse to text them first dies before you even pick up your phone, deciding at the last minute to do something for yourself instead. As much as you’d love to have friends to wish you a happy birthday, the least you can do is celebrate on your own.

With most places already closed, given the late hour, you end up at a hole-in-the-wall diner, tucked away on a quiet street. It’s not as empty as you expect it to be, a few patrons spread out along the booths lining the wall, a couple others sitting at opposite ends of the counter, all of them absorbed by their own form of distraction - a quiet conversation, their phone, a book.

You’re barely even acknowledged as you walk in, the older man behind the counter passing you a menu on your way to your choice of the empty corner booth. Grateful that you’re not the only one eating alone at this late hour, you take your time choosing all your favorite items, determined to celebrate, even if it’s by yourself.

It’s not until you’re standing at the counter to place your order that you take more notice of the man with the leather jacket, his face buried in a book. He’s incredibly distracting, your gaze unceremoniously drifting to the stubble lining his jaw as you try to focus on getting your order right.

You don’t know it, but he finds you equally distracting. From the moment you walked in, Bucky took notice, the familiar look of loneliness in your eyes drawing his attention. It’s far from what’s kept his interest though, the subtle air of confidence and determination surrounding you pulling his focus whenever you’re not looking.

The urge to initiate contact grows with every passing second, the itch to seek connection making him shift, his jaw twitching under your sporadic scrutiny. He’s not even sure what to say, a simple ‘hi’ feeling too inconsequential, too impersonal.

And then you’re gone, having returned to your seat, waiting for your meal, the moment of possibilities dissipating before Bucky really had a chance to imagine what might happen.

Back in the 40’s, he wouldn’t have thought twice about approaching you, and he certainly wouldn’t have worried about saying the right thing or being rejected. But, Bucky’s not that man anymore and all the wishing isn’t going to change that.

So, for now, he just watches you, careful to avoid your gaze, his heart beating wildly in his throat every time a smile crosses your face, your phone providing you some sort of entertainment.

It’s the only distraction you have, your plethora of apps keeping you from staring at the man that feels like a walking piece of art. If today were any other day, it’s entirely possible you’d actually try to get his attention. You’re already dealing with enough rejection though and you’re unable to handle the possibility of any more tonight.

Once your food comes, you force yourself to savor each bite, drawing out the last little bit of your birthday before it’s officially over. The disappointment over your friends will surely linger for days to come, so you may as well try to enjoy this as much as possible, no matter how alone you feel.

You save the best for last, returning to the counter to get a to-go box for your leftovers and placing an order for a slice of cake, barely managing to add, “it’s my birthday” at the last moment.

It leads to an awkward smile with the owner as he gives you a quick, “happy birthday” in response, your cheeks flushing as you return to your booth. You weren’t even planning to say it, no matter how much you rehearsed the words in your head before you went up there.

Once you were standing there, though, you felt like you deserved to hear ‘happy birthday’ once more before the night ends, even if it’s from a slightly forced interaction. It’s not like you ever have to come back here anyway.

It’s her birthday.

The decision is made before Bucky has a chance to talk himself out of it, slinking out of his seat after he bookmarks the page he’s read at least twenty times now. After a short conversation with the owner, who for some reason enjoys his quiet company, Bucky sneaks into the back to get to work.

He doesn’t have nearly everything he’d like, but he’s resourceful, making do with what he has access to, intent on making this a happier birthday for you. Torn between getting it right, and not wanting to keep you waiting, it only takes a few minutes before he’s walking back out, his gloved hand hidden behind his back.

You’re caught off guard when you see him approaching, his smile making your stomach flutter and your pulse race. There’s no denying that you’re his destination, his sure footsteps leading him straight to you, your lips parting prematurely, as if you’re capable of even saying anything first.

He doesn’t give you a chance, the moment he’s within reach of your table, his hidden hand returns with a flourish, producing a haphazard birthday cake. Several pieces of different types of cake sit in a oddly-shaped circle, unlit mismatched candles placed around the barely legible words ‘Happy Birthday.’

Tears prick your eyes the same time laughter bubbles out of you, this sudden display of kindness leaving you speechless, a range of emotions washing over you.

He seems to take it in stride, his head tilting as his smile grows, telling you, “Happy Birthday.” He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, his brow raised as he holds it up to ask, “How you feel about being center of attention? Say the word and I can get this place to sing to you.”

You’re quick to shake your head as he starts to light the candles, your skin already warm from just his attention, your voice finding you long enough to tell him, “No, I don’t - that’s okay - thank you.”

“Fair enough,” he grins, finishing the last of the candles, your eyes drawn to the reflection of the flickering flames on the sleeve of his jacket.

Your mind is racing with things to say, wanting to remind him to be careful so he doesn’t accidentally burn himself, to ask him if he works here, to figure out why he’s being so nice. No words come until he’s introducing himself to break the ice, asking for your name in return.

You almost stumble, your own name nearly forgotten as he sits across from you, his gloved hands pushing the cake a bit closer towards you.

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you,” he says before a rueful smile graces his face. “Now, I’m gonna have to sing ‘happy birthday.’” When you open your mouth to protest, he shakes his head, telling you, “It just doesn’t seem right to have you blow out your candles without it.”

Another shake of your head to assure him, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I definitely do,” he promises with a swift nod, his tongue peaking out to wet his lips in preparation. “It’s not really a birthday celebration without it, but I promise not to draw too much attention.”

After a quick glance around the diner, ignoring the knowing look from the owner, Bucky does as promised, keeping his voice low enough not to make any of the other customers want to join in as he sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to you.

As overwhelmed as it makes you feel, it’s hard to ignore the warmth that settles over you, each line of the song erasing some of the disappointment from the day. Hearing your name fall from his lips, even as part of the song, finally breaks your resolve, the tears that have been threatening to build starting to blur your vision.

If Bucky notices, he keeps it to himself, encouraging you to buy into the premise and close your eyes to make a wish. It’s hard not to give in, finally letting yourself live fully in the moment, to allow yourself to be celebrated with a complete stranger.

The wish you make isn’t anything new, but as you open your eyes, finding Bucky still smiling at you, ready to cut the cake and continue this celebration, you’re struck with a feeling that’s impossible to shake.

Maybe today isn’t about rejection after all, maybe you just needed to reminded of what you deserve.

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

Happy Birthday, anon! I wasn't sure what you were looking for, but I hope you like it. Feel free to ask for a continuation 🩶

Everyone, please use the comments (or reblogs!) to wish anon a happy birthday!

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buckyalpine · 2 years ago

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You had one job

18+

Bodyguard!Bucky x reader

Everyone who asked for this raise your hand. As expected, everyone’s hands are down. I’m sorry.

A lil angst, horny protective Bucky, smutty smuuttt, fluff, all that. Daddy kink, pregnancy

“Not interested” Bucky glared at Steve, shoving the file back across the table, shaking his head while the blonde smirked, skimming through the papers.

“Well you don’t have much of a choice; they requested you, not Mr. Stars and Stripes over here”

Of all jobs, the last thing Bucky wanted was to play babysitter for the spoilt daughter of Tony Stark, the face of Stark Enterprises though that was clearly just a cover for the underground dealings he had control over.

“I’m not taking a babysitting job”

“You’re not a babysitter for fucks sake, you’re her bodyguard and head of security for the family. You have military experience, they only want the best” Bucky’s boss walked out of the room without looking back, not giving the brunet a chance to argue back.

“You start next week”

*****

Don’t let her out of your sight

Don’t touch her

Don’t stare at her

Don’t touch her

Keep her safe

Don’t touch her

Those were the rules he was given as he walked out of Starks office, his jaw clenched as he made his was to the foyer of the mansion. Works of art decorated the walls, each piece different from the other, different from pieces he had seen in other homes-

The sound of heels clicking down the stairs broke him from his train of thought, his eyes flicking up to the latest job he was forced to take on. You wore a skirt and blouse, make up perfectly done, not a hair out of place, nails manicured, unnecessarily pretty.

You’d already gone though countless bodygaurds before, none meeting your standards, each getting fired for one reason or another. Unlike the others, Bucky only had so much patience.

“Miss Stark” Bucky hardly looked at you, staring past you instead while you walked by him, grabbing your bag and calling for your driver.

“Mr. Barnes” You nodded, making your way out to the car as he followed behind you, sliding into the car and keeping his distance. You didn’t speak to him the whole car ride, going about your shopping trip as if he didn’t exist. When you weren’t pretending he didn’t exist, you’d talk his ear off, your sassy banter seeing how far you could push him till you at least got a growl out of him.

He had to give you some credit. While he usually ignored you most of the time, you were intelligent like your father and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit intrigued by you.

Each day was the same. He’d accompany to wherever you demanded; shopping, brunch with your friends, dinners, oddly occasionally a few bookstores where you’d spend the whole day tucked away in a corner reading. The worst was when you wanted to go clubbing, your handsy friends ogling and eye fucking him the entire time while you continued to pretend he didn’t exit.

Again, he had to give you some credit; not once did he ever had to drag you out of the club, drunk and sloppy. Regardless of how much you drank, you always appeared stone cold sober.

Not once had anything happened for his presence to be needed. The most he had done in the past month he spent with you was carry your shopping bags and hold the door open. Aside from his name, he wasn’t sure you knew anything about him. What he didn’t know was while you didn’t look at him, you’d carefully studied him whenever he looked away from you.

You noted the way his blue eyes would always scan the room before you entered a building, marking all the exists. His hands would constantly twitch whenever someone got too close, his metal arm always tucked near the gun in his holster. His lack of patience amused you; always smirking to yourself at the way his jaw ticked when your friends got too close to him.

In all fairness, he was handsome.

As hell.

Between his short dark locks, scruffy cheeks and pink lips, you’d have to be blind not to see how gorgeous he was. Unlike your previous bodyguards, you were most intrigued by him, the only one who hadn’t spared you a second look, always keeping his eyes and hands to himself. He was also the only one you wanted to ride until the sun came up-

“You don’t speak much” You mused, looking up at him from your sunglasses while he sat across from you, scrolling on his phone. You both sat in the car on your way to a charity event you had to attend, representing your father.

“I was hired to protect you” Bucky shrugged, while you cocked your head wanting to prod at him more. “That doesn’t involve much talking”

“Shouldn’t you know more about the person you were hired to protect” You earning a grunt in response. “Might be difficult if you hardly look at me”

“I don’t believe speaking or looking at you are part of my instructions Miss. Stark” Bucky challenged while you smirked, his blue eyes locking with yours. There was something about you that made him want to take you over his knee, curious about how demanding you’d be if you were stuffed with his cock instead-

He broke his stare away feeling his phone buzz, opening the car door for you and letting you step out, trailing behind you. He spoke lowly as he answered the call though he was already dreading what it would be about, seeing Fury’s caller ID.

“You’re scheduled to travel with her next month”

“This is a waste of everyone's time” Bucky groaned, wishing he at least had Steve by his side to keep him entertained. “For fucks sake, all I do is follow her on shopping trips, this is what they hired me for?”

“Suck it up Barnes, Stark is sending you both over to some event he can’t attend, everything’s already been arranged” Bucky growled, cursing under his breath when he hard the call end.

A month later

“I’m sorry sir, there must have been a mix up in the bookings” The front receptionist gave Bucky an apologetic look while he shook his head, taking single the keycard to the hotel suite while you continued to scroll through your phone. You both made your way up to the room, your bags in his hand while you took the card from his hand to swipe the lock.

“What are you doing-” You shot Bucky as look as he followed in behind you, crashing onto the couch after setting your bag aside.

“They only booked once room and there's no others available, so here we are” He was in no mood to argue with you, already irritated over the fact that he’d have to spend the night surrounded by stuck up shady business men all night while running on 0 sleep. You stayed silent for a moment; it wasn’t like you had time to waste finding different sleeping arrangements, your fathers business always came first.

“You can sleep on the couch” You shrugged, grabbing your garment bag and locking the door of the master bedroom of your suite, deciding you’d deal with the hotel room mix up later.

Bucky splashed some water onto his face, thankful there was a second bathroom in your room as he showered and threw his suit on. He sat at the couch, reloading his gun, looking up when he heard the click of your heels on the tiles, approaching him.

For the first time since he’d started his job, Bucky struggled to take his eyes off you. You were in a long satin gown, the soft burgundy material wrapping around your body beautifully. The dainty straps of your heels hugged your ankles, his mind going rogue, thinking about how they’d look on his shoulders-

“Lets go” You gave yourself a once over in the floor length mirror while Bucky nodded, leading you to the elevators and down to the hall of the event. The sweet scent of your perfume evaded his senses as you stayed close to him, hoping he wouldn’t realize your stomach had burst into butterflies over the way he looked in his suit.

You made small talk with a number of people throughout the night but something was off. Bucky watched you carefully, noting the way you downed your third glass of champagne in the past few minutes, anxiety clouding your usual confident demeanor.

“What is it” Bucky whispered, while your eyes flicked to a few unfamiliar guests, which was unusual for such meetings.

“This is a private event” You murmured, nervously linking your arm with his, “But I don’t know some of these people, my father would have mentioned new guests”

Bucky silently nodded, slipping his hand around your waist, making his way towards the exit before the room went dark, a number of lights suddenly switched off. You gasped as a masked mad approached you, panic ensuing at the sound of bullets ringing through the large ballroom. Your eyes grew wide, recognizing the voice as the man tore the mask off, his burnt face a mess after he had already tried to touch you once before.

“Fancy seeing you here” Rumlow grinned, his cold knuckled fingers gipping onto his knife as he stalked over to you, determination written all over his face. “Almost had you once. Shame your father will only have you back in pieces-

Before you could do anything, Bucky pulled you out of the way, shielding you, the knife slashing across his shoulder instead. He hissed in pain, pushing you away just enough so he could push Rumlow down, cuffing him while a few of your families allies dragged him away.

You hardly had time look back while Bucky let out a pained groan teeth digging into his bottom lip, pain radiating through his shoulder as he grabbed you and pulled you close to his side, making sure the area was clear before taking you to the safety of your room. He ignored the shooting pain that pulsed through his body, slumping on the couch while you berated him about needing to go to a hospital.

“M’fine” He gritted out, while you shook your head, unwilling to take his brooding stubbornness if it meant he was going to bleed out in the hotel room.

“For fucks sake, will you stop being so stubborn for once and let me take care of you” You dragged him into the bathroom, shrugging his blazer off and unbuttoning his shirt, throwing the blood soaked material into a hamper that sat in the corner.

Usually Bucky would have protested, easily cleaning his own cuts and sewing himself up like he had done countless times before.

Except he was exhausted.

Before he could get another word in, you tugged his hand, leading him to sit on closed toilet seat, grabbing the first aid supplies he had in his bag. You threw your dress and heels off, quickly throwing on the first thing you could find in one of the bags, (his henley and his brief's) before rushing back to him and tending to his injury.

He was able to feel every cut and sting as you dabbed the alcohol soaked cotton on his gash, unable to ignore the way the pain radiated on his skin. He hissed, his body moving on its own, his hand slipping up your shirt, grasping onto your waist, gritting his teeth, squeezing your soft flesh, groaning. You felt your heart jump, ignoring the way it fluttered. Your eyes grew wide when he sucked in a breath, letting your shirt ride up and he rested his head against your stomach.

You continued to dab the bloody away, the sting only getting worse. He bit down onto your soft flesh, no longer in control of what he was doing, the pain felt white hot and the only thing that kept him tethered to reality was the softness of your skin.

His grip on your waist loosened as he let out a shuddered breath feeling you blow on his skin to soothe the sting before placing gauze on top to stop the bleeding.

“All done” Bucky pulled away, his eyes now locked on the indents on your skin of where he bit down onto you, a part of his mind wandering to how pretty you’d look if he marked you other places. He felt his face heat up, thanking you before getting up and leaving, the blood in his body now pumping other places.

The softness of your hands.

The sweetness of your voice.

A stubborn little princess, wearing his clothes, taking care of him.

“I’m going to shower” You interrupted his train of thought, leaving his bathroom to use the larger one in the room, your own body feeling like it was lit on fire. You loved the way his calloused hands felt on your body, gripping onto you, each of his pained groans made your heart hurt yet needy. Imagine how beautiful he’d sound if you were bouncing on his co-

You blinked, your fingers tracing over the indents he left on your skin as you stripped his henley off, cursing when you realized you’d taken his clothes instead of yours. While you hoped he wouldn’t have noticed in his state of pain, you knew he saw every detail.

Perhaps a cold shower would clear your head.

Bucky nearly growled as you emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a pathetic excuse for a towel while he stood half naked, grabbing his sweats to throw on before you came in to grab your own clothes.

“Forget your clothes again” Bucky smirked, letting his eyes rake up and down your body, unable to hold back much longer. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or the scent of your body wash. The little resolve he had was crumbling into a fine power when you stepped towards him.

You could feel your pussy already dripping, eye fucking him right back, curious to see how far you could push him. He always managed to ignore your teasing though today his eyes had lingered on you for a tad too long.

“Daddy said you couldn’t lay a finger on me” You cocked an eyebrow, dropping your towel to the floor, shamelessly letting him stare at your bare form, his cock leaking against his boxers.

“Not a problem princess” He smirked, tugging his boxers down, stroking himself in front of you. “He didn’t say anything about admiring his pretty baby, huh”

You whimpered while he continued to lazily stroke himself watching you, taking a few steps towards you while you backed yourself against the wall. Your eyes grew wide when he caged you against the wall, his hot breath fanning on your face.

“Daddy said-

“I’m your daddy now baby” He growled in your ear, throwing you over his shoulder, and tossing you onto the bed. Something else surged inside him. He hadn’t realized how much he actually cared for you until today. He despised the feeling he felt when he knew you were in danger, no one, absolutely no one had the right to hurt you.

Bucky didn’t hold back, fucking you with abandon, making sure you’d feel him for the rest of the week, pounding you into the mattress. He loved your desperate cries and whimpers, begging him for more, taking every inch of him.

“Daddy, harder”

“Greedy little princess aren’t we”

“Need it daddy”

“Daddy’s got you baby, just be a good girl and take it”

You loved the way he tossed you around, marking your body, your skin littered in bruises, his possessive words making you feral.

“You like when daddy bites you sweets? You like daddy losing control for the princess he has to protect?”

“Please Bucky, mark me up daddy!”

“M’the only man who gets to hear you scream like this baby, the only man who gets to mark you. I’ll fuckin’ ruin anyone else that tries to put their hands on you, you’re mine to protect, all mine”

He had you cumming all over his cock all night, his mouth filthier each time he had you creaming on his length.

“C’mon babygirl, one more, it’ll make daddy all better”

“C-can’t daddy!”

“Just one more to help me feel all better baby, please? Daddy’s cock hurts when his princess doesn’t cum”

The night ended with you cuddled up in his arms, the both of you insisting it wouldn’t happen when the next day. You tried to ignore the way you felt giddy around him while Bucky tried to keep his cheeks from going red whenever you were near him.

Although.

That night started it.

While neither of you spoke about any feelings that seemed to be brewing between you both, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

Bucky had a lot of self restraint for many things but you were a weakness. He fucked you in everyway imaginable; the back seat of the car, the changerooms, by the poolside, your bedroom, the kitchen, even once in the club bathroom.

What started off as a few hook ups turned into something more intimate. He snuck into your room more often, taking his time to feel your body under his, staying with you until the sun came up. He hadn’t been one to enjoy soft slow sex before but with you he found himself craving it.

“Missed you babygirl”

“Needed this”

“Fuck you feel so good baby, s’perfect my pretty girl, so good for me”

“Never wanna leave princess, wanna be like this forever”

Regardless of what he was saying in those moments, you both agreed there was nothing more. Its not like anything more could happen anyway, he was still your bodygaurd and its not like you could be together.

A few weeks later

He had been patient for long enough. This was the fourth time he heard you empty your insides, walking out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened. You ignored his stare, making your way to your bed instead, your stomach churning again.

“There’s something you’re not telling me” Bucky’s voice was low, watching you nervously fidget with your fingers, bringing your knees up to your chest, nearly curling into a ball. “I don’t know what you’re-

“Its nothing Bucky” You shot back, your frustration clouding overthrowing your patience. You fought back tears while Bucky sat by your side, clenching his jaw when you turned away from him.

“Don’t lie to me, you’re never like this”

You had avoided him for over a week, hardly leaving your room, leaving all his calls unanswered. You had refused to see him, deciding to stay holed up in your house so he wouldn't have to watch over you. You knew Bucky suspected something but how could you tell him this.

“You’ve been sick, you’re tired all the time, you refuse to let me take you to the doctors, you don’t even let me near you anymore, baby just-

“I’m pregnant” You sat up, bursting into tears, shuffling away from him, guilt and fear consuming you, “I’m pregnant and I don’t know what to do, we didn’t plan this, I-I know you don’t want this, you were hired just to protect me, not have a baby, especially not with me-

“Hey, hey, baby what makes you think I don’t want this” Bucky quickly grabbed you, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest. You trembled in his arms, shaking while he rubbed your back, tilting your chin to look at him.

“Bucky-

“Princess, listen to me, I want this with you baby” You looked away again, figuring he was saying that for your sake, “Sweetheart, look at me baby, please?”

He huffed at your stubbornness, moving you so you were pinned under him while he held off some of his body weight to keep from pressing too hard against your tummy. He rested his forehead onto yours, his eyes sincere. “I mean it. I want our baby. I’m more than happy sweetheart, there's no one else I’d want to have a baby with”

You whimpered under him, draping your hands over his shoulders while he rolled you over again, letting you lay on top of him. He stroked your hair, kissing you while rubbing your tummy, giddy excitement making him smile till his cheeks hurt.

“Y/n, sweetheart” Bucky pulled you closer to him, his hand firmly splayed across your tummy, nose bumping against yours, “I love you baby”

“You promise you want this James?”

“I want it all with you babydoll”

****

“Can-I have to tell you something” You stepped into your father office room while Bucky continued to remain a respectful meter away from you as always.

“That you’re in love with the man I hired to protect you” Your father cocked an eyebrow, his face unreadable while he stared at you both, your eyes growing wide, while his face remained unchanged. You silently nodded while Bucky took a step closer to be right by your side, relaxing a little when Tony didn’t put a bullet between his eyes.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes sir”

“You’ll take proper care of her?”

“Yes sir”

“You understand I’ll kill you right now you ever make her cry”

“Yes sir”

“Suppose it could be worse” Tony shrugged, shaking his head at the way Bucky looked like a lovesick puppy, his hands clearly itching to hold yours, his pinky discreetly linking with yours for the time being.

“Well-um-that’s not all?” You nervously fidgeted while Bucky bit back a smirk, though your father didn’t look surprised, shaking his head instead.

“For fucks sake, you had one job” Tony rubbed his temples, itching to throw a paperweight at Bucky’s head while he sheepishly smiled, moving his arm to wrap around your tummy. “I thought I told you not to touch her” Tony deadpanned while Bucky bit his lip, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Sorry sir”

Just imagine utter ridiculousness that ensues after. Tony is more than happy that your happy but he can’t help but grill Bucky every time he sees him doting on you, reminding him of how this absolute punk touched his princess.

“He had one job, just one job” He mumbles while watching Bucky feed you, the both of you cuddled on the couch together.

“C’mon, they’re cute” Nat snorts while Tony shoots her a glare, continuing to sip his whiskey.

“One job Romanoff, one job”

After your little one is born, Bucky is even more protective over you than before and Tony couldn’t be more proud over the person he hired to watch over you.

That doesn’t mean he’ll let Bucky live it down.

“One job Barnes”

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc

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orchidyoonkook · 5 months ago

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To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 7

Title: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel flies home, Yuri flies back, Jungkook can't stop thinking about the other night. And you? Gods, don't even get me started.

Warnings: T, language, fluff (?), angst, reader is ~not~ okay for a chunk of this, bye bye Nel! it was nice to meet you, Yuri being the bestie she is, playful antagonism, JK thinking a lot, some photography technical words but nothing scary, reader is painting again, shocker.

Word Count: 4,463

Release Date: July 9, 2024. 2:00PM

A/N 1: Hi this was supposed to be released like a month and a half ago but then i went to europe and my brain was anywhere but near electronics. Anywhooo here she is, as always thanks for waiting and I'll try to be more consistent now that post vacation depression has kicked in.

Sometimes life works out incredibly conveniently for you, like when Nel’s flight leaves a half hour before Yuri’s gets in at the same airport.

But then it sucks again as your week with Nel flies by so quickly it feels like you’ve had no time at all while also having so much because of all the new memories you’ve both made.

Currently in a rideshare and airport bound, because you will be in no way okay to drive back, your grip on Nel’s hand is strangling as you take in every last second of time you can get with him. He keeps giving kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, mouth; anywhere he can get access to really.

He doesn't want this week to end just as much as you don’t. Fuck this fucking sucks so much.

The driver pulls up to the terminal drop off, and you both exit. Nel grabs his bag from the trunk, now filled with little mementos from your week as well as his clothes. A pressed flower from the greenhouse, museum postcards, a doodle you did for him while he was sketching, and more, all tucked away for safekeeping. All the only physical things he can hold onto until he sees you next.

Walking into the airport, you make your way up to the check in desk, paperwork already in hand. Nel checks in and you request an escort pass, determined to spend every last moment together.

There’s a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying to swallow. It’s thick, like a ball of unending peanut butter you can’t get down. And your chest feels like a black hole has opened inside of it, right where your heart is supposed to be. Every second that ticks away allowing another drop of the warmth you have with him to be sucked right out of your sternum.

Painful doesn’t even begin to describe this feeling.

As beautiful as your week was, the reality of the present is setting in, and the closer you get to his gate, the closer you are to tears. You’re trying your best to blink them away, but you won’t be seeing him until winter break, and even then, that’ll only be for a day or two at most before you have to wait till summer to see him again. So it might as well be goodbye for those full 6 months.

It hurts. It hurts so bad to have to go through this over and over again, to have this separation from the one you love, even if it’s only temporary. Funny how temporary can sometimes feel like forever when you’re in the middle of it.

Funny how the concept of temporary doesn’t make the gash in your heart open any less.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he has too. The faster he goes, the faster he can come back to you.

You hate that he has to go in the first place. You just want him to stay. Please, just stay.

But he can’t.

You reach his gate and before you know it, his flight’s being called to board and your tears refuse to stay inside any longer, the lump succeeding in its plot of victory. They spill down your cheeks in silent rivers, wet splotches on the neckline of your shirt forming as they flow.

Maybe they’ll create a little lake in the hole he’s leaving you with. There’s certainly enough of them to fill it. Something to fill the void a little until you can see him again.

Nel takes one look before scooping you into a crushing hug, a desperate echo of the one from a week ago. His own tears now staining.

“I love you so much,” he says. You don’t see his eyes squeeze shut, nor do you see him memorizing your smell, as he kisses the top of your head. And his voice wobbles as he whispers, “It’s not forever, it’s just for now.”

He says those words every time you two part, whether it was for a day or a year. Never goodbye or so long. Never see you later.

They’ve always been a small comfort in otherwise shitty situations.

“Just for now,” you get out through quiet sobs, gripping onto him even tighter as you shake.

It takes you a couple deep breaths before you can say anything without breaking. “I love you too. Please be safe, message me when you land, and do well on your final exams.”

He smiles at that last bit, and your tears free themselves again. You’re going to miss seeing that smile in person.

Nel pulls you in once more, tighter. “It’s always harder when my good luck charm is halfway across the world, but I’ll manage.” Your sobs stutter with a broken laugh, and you’re pretty sure his sweater is going to have tear stains on it. “I promise I’ll message as soon as I can. And I’d wish you luck but you never need it. You always do well.”

The announcement for final boarding calls and both of you freeze in each other's arms. You don’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to go.

But he has too.

You separate only enough to kiss. It’s messy and wet and gross, but you don’t care. It’s the last one you’ll have for a while and you never want it to end.

But it does.

Nel pulls away, and you reluctantly let him. He grabs his bag with one hand, the other holding onto both of yours as he backs away until he can no longer reach. Your arms drop to your sides with the traces of his warmth on your skin.

You watch as the boarding crew welcomes him on, and he takes one look back at you.

You wave, mouthing ‘I love you.’

He mouths ‘I love you’ right back, and turns the corner.

You waited for Yuri at her terminal after dropping off Nel and taking five—okay ten—minutes to violently sob in the bathroom.

She took one look at your half smile and puffy eyes and smothered you in a hug. Smelling like sunshine and ocean water, it was exactly what you needed.

“It’s okay Sweets, you’ll see him again before you know it. This year will pass by so fast, just you see,” she tells you through your whimpers, the tears having returned the second her arms were around you.

They dry sometime on the way home. It was a thirty minute ride back to school, and they fell silently for a solid twenty before you even got in.

You hate goodbyes.

But Yuri’s seen this three times now, and she always knew that a warm drink and junk food were in your immediate shared futures when she did. Screw healthy coping methods. It may be 9:30pm on a Sunday night, but that won’t stop you from downing a pint as you drown your sorrows in sweet, sweet cookies n cream.

Yuri also knows you need a distraction, so she doesn’t hold back on telling you every detail of her vacation.

The duke from a few weeks ago had been a dud. ‘Shit personality and even shittier sex’ according to Yuri. No consultation needed.

But this new guy from the Ilcalos Islands sounds promising. He’s a Count of something she can’t remember but in her words, “big heart and even bigger dick.”

That makes you giggle. And you’re happy for her.

“Bitch, the second night he did this thing with his tongue and an ice cube and oh. my. god. I think I’m in love. That man could do whatever he wanted to me and I’d still say thank you afterwards,” she’s rambling at this point and you’re mentally apologizing to the driver for having to hear all of it.

You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all; gladly welcome it actually. You want your mind anywhere other than the present right now.

You don’t want to start crying all over again. By the morning you’ll be fine, you’ll have let out everything you needed too. But between then and now, it’s a matter of mentioning the wrong words or seeing an intriguingly designed building that could trigger those pesky tear ducts.

So you listen to Yuri go on and on about this guy, all his techniques and what she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since she last saw him. His number is already saved in her phone under a very inappropriate name, but you expect nothing less from her.

You love her for it. For this.

For knowing what you need to stay afloat right now and not allowing you to throw the anchor overboard with your leg chained to the end.

You really fucking hate goodbyes.

You’re staring at him.

Like, full on, no bars held, staring at him.

And Jungkook’s pretending he doesn’t notice.

You’re sitting in your chair and he’s back in his beside you at greenhouse cafe. Your half done painting of pink flowers sits in front of you, his laptop screen’s filled with this week's newly assigned ‘Studio Portrait Techniques 1’ homework.

His half finished coffee on his table. An empty pastry bag on yours.

His hands on his keyboard, yours gripping a brush.

And you’re staring at him.

He’s hoping it’s because this is the first time you’ve seen him since Nel left.

But it’s probably to do with the fact that he hasn’t looked at you once today. Or the fact that he’s barely spoken at all when he usually can’t seem to shut up when it’s been more than 48 hours since he last saw you.

Because it’s also the first time he’s seen you since he was with Adaline, imaging she wasn’t Adaline.

“You’re acting weird,” you say.

“No I’m not,” he responds a little too quickly, eyes still focused on his computer.

Yes he is. He really, totally is.

“Yes you are, you won't look at me and you’ve barely said two words since I got here.” Well your knack for observancy is still intact.

Normally that's a good thing, but right now?

“Did I do something wrong?”

No. No you didn’t.

He did.

He let his emotions get the best of him in a moment of weakness. He let himself become so overwhelmed with feelings he isn’t allowed to have. He let them win for a single night.

And now if he isn’t paying the goddamned consequences.

After that night with Adaline, Jungkook had woken up filled with regret. He’d crossed a line he didn’t even know he should have drawn in very dark, very permanent ink.

For letting himself, just for one moment, imagine what it would be like to be with…

And things are harder than ever to shove down now. He can’t look even look at you without thinking about it. About what he did. What he wanted.

Wants.

Fuck, he’s in over his head.

Jungkook forces himself to look at you, putting his years of social training and emotional masking to good use. It sure as hell came in handy during times like this.

Because you can never know.

He can’t lose you because he's unable to get his shit together. It’s not your fault he feels like this.

So he lies. Both to you and to himself, hoping it might help him believe it.

“Nothing’s wrong Dali, just focused on my work is all. We got assigned a big project on Monday and I’m planning out all my shoots.”

You look hesitant, like you can see right through his bullshit excuse that was only a half excuse because this project is massive.

“If you say so,” your tone implying you don’t believe him, but thankfully, you let it go and lean closer to him to see. He pretends his breathing doesn’t hitch, “What’s the project?”

“It’s my final assignment for a class, I have to do a series of five portraits. Each one with a different style, capturing a different emotion, and they all have to be of the same subject to show the true versatility of my work. It’s easy to make things look different when it’s different people being photographed,” he explains.

Therefore, this assignment, and all of its working parts, is huge. He’s glad it’s due in the middle of December because it’s going to take him almost a month of planning to get it all together; backdrops, concepts, costumes, previsualization, focal lengths, props, equipment, lighting setups, etc. And then when the planning is over: to shoot, narrow down and edit.

But that’s the point of it. To have the students demonstrate they know how to effectively expand on the definition of a ‘portrait’ instead of having one concept in mind and sticking to it.

‘To broaden your creative approaches to seemingly simple constructs,’ as his professor would say.

He loves the way this professor does assignments. How she layers them so that not only does he learn how to shoot multi-concept ideas for the same project type, allowing him to add to his creative portfolio, but they also force him to break out of the expected conclusions for an idea and think outside the box.

“Oh wow, that is a lot,” you say. Because you understand long running projects. 50 hour paintings don’t just happen in a day. “Do you have any ideas yet?”

“Yeah! I have them all already, actually,” he turns his computer towards you and you see a point by point list of summarized ideas.

- Bright and bold - happy, bright smile, colourful gels - Black and white, soft light: gel or bounce? Silk diffuser - profile with water falling on face - relieved - Focused on passion - candid, regular colour. Diffuser? Or silk flag? - Normal colour profile, stark lighting - serious, front facing body, profile facing left, no visible clothing, “regal” _|(_*-*)>_. Flag. - Mysterious - black background, white smoke, barely visible model, lower half of face painted black, upper half white, striking purple eyes (contacts?). Flags. Gels?

“I’m really excited for this project,” he says, “it’s just the prep that’s going to take a while. Getting it all mapped and planned out. It’s mostly concepts right now.”

You nod, understanding once again. Though very different mediums, visual arts and photography are similar in many ways.

“Adaline going to be your model?”

It doesn’t surprise him you think that, but he has no intentions of ever using Adaline for assignments or homework.

“Actually, I… uhh…” he trails off. Jungkook’s trying to get the words out, he is. But they’re surprisingly difficult for some reason, and getting caught in his throat.

Which makes his earlier anxious state come back in full force.

It shouldn't be this difficult. It won’t be the first, second or fifth time he’s asked you.

Get the words out Jeon. Put on your professional face, this is nothing new.

He fails, instead, his voice comes out barely above a whisper as he says, “I was going to ask you if you would.”

You somehow hear him.

“Me?” you look dumbfounded.

“Yes, you.” He’s always used you for homework assignments before, so he’s not sure why all of a sudden this is surprising. Maybe because it’s a final assignment versus a weekly one? The effort will be greater?

“But you have Adaline? I assumed that she would take up the position of model when you guys started going out.”

Oh. That makes more sense.

But that is one mistake he won’t be making again, because he did ask Adaline.

Once.

It was recent, Nel was still here and he didn’t want to disturb you because of that. Plus Jungkook was just trying to get a jump on his upcoming assignments anyway, taking a page from your book.

So he asked Adaline. And she leapt at the opportunity, like he expected.

What he didn’t expect, was when she essentially directed, staged, lit and posed every. single. shot. so that she would look her best.

All he did was click the capture image button when she said too.

And after the shoot, before he could even think to look at the pictures, Adaline was already there, holding his camera, going through them and deleting any picture she deemed ‘ugly.’

He was left with less than 20 images from the shoot where he was ordered to take over 200. And she even made him switch out one of the three he narrowed down for one she liked better.

So no, he would not be asking Adaline to model.

Ever again.

“Nah. You’re a lot easier to work with because you don't care how the pictures turn out, and let me do my thing. Adaline cares a bit too much, and has to have approval on all of them before I submit.”

You snort. “Seriously? Is she that self absorbed?” a quirked brow places itself on your face to match the smirk now on your mouth.

That’s new.

Your tone towards Adaline has always been neutral, if not a bit sharp when he talks about her.

But this one? It’s like you know her, and knew she was like that, but didn’t know it was this severe.

Adaline is very popular...maybe you two met and it didn't go well?

It certainly sounds like you don’t like her, if those six words were anything to go by. Which, he guesses they shouldn’t, but he knows you well enough by now to know the difference.

And if he’s honest, that wouldn’t shock him in the slightest. You two are nothing alike, and thank god for that.

He covers for Adaline, like any boyfriend would. Though it stings a little bit.

“She’s just careful about what images could be leaked to the press. Can’t really blame her for that.”

Your face changes minutely, as if a second of understanding passes through before you turn to go back to your painting, and mutter, “no, you can’t,” placing a splash of pink on a flower.

He returns to his work as well, switching the portrait assignment out for a different one. He needs to get his mind off it for a while before circling back.

And the fact that you didn’t answer him.

Deciding on a Design and Visual Culture assignment due next week, he dives in head first, resuming his earlier state of focus and avoidance.

Jungkook’s editing a picture when you stretch.

You often hunch over your work, so you try to stretch every 30 minutes or so. Your arms are in the air and he catches a peek at the nearly finished floral study.

They’re some kind of vibrant pink dangling flowers, and you’ve captured the likeness of them quite well, to no surprise of his, so he goes to compliment it but you beat him to the punch.

“Shots blurry.”

Jungkook does a double take at his laptop screen. He’d spent the better part of 40 minutes editing the image and hadn’t noticed that.

Because it’s not. It’s perfectly crisp and clear.

When he looks back to you, you have a shit eating grin on your face.

Ah, he knows that look.

You love to tease him about little things like that, giving him mini heart attacks. ‘Pay back for that first day,’ you claim.

Well…

Two can play this game, so he plays off your comment.

“Oh, you're right. Thanks,” and he switches to another image.

Your grin falters but you recover quickly.

“No problem.”

See, while you know how to playfully harass him about his pictures, Jungkook knows how…particular you are about your colours. How they need to be labelled correctly instead of by their umbrella terms like ‘blue’ or ‘red.’ Because blue or red could mean any one of the dozens of ‘sub colours.’

‘It’s not blue, it’s cerulean,’ you’d remark.

‘That’s not red, it’s burgundy,’ you’d correct him.

You’re always correcting him, and it makes his pants tighten a little bit every time. But that’s on the other side of the line he does not cross anymore. A nice, big, fat, permanent, protective line.

Jungkook settles for a more subtle method of attack. Using this little fact and your ridiculously extensive knowledge of flowers against you.

He never thought the defense and attack lessons his father put him through would come in handy like this. But he’s glad for them now. It was the only time he could ever outsmart you.

He gestures to your canvas. “Those pink flowers are pretty, what are they called?”

“Their common name is Lady’s Eardrop. And they’re magenta.”

Hook, line, sinker.

He doesn’t even have to try, you walk right into it every time.

“Lady’s eardrop? That’s a weird name…do they come in other colours besides pink?”

You don’t look up as you reply.

“Magenta, and yeah. Some are plum and magenta, some are a buttery white and magenta, and then some have this like, almost dark tangerine hue, but they’re a different type, longer. Not the same as those,” you point with the end of your brush to the greenhouse, where the fully magenta lady’s eardrop sits in the window.

“And are these pink ones your favourite?” he’s really trying his best to keep a straight face as yours contorts with an eye twitch at every use of the word.

“They’re. Magenta. And sure, but the plum ones are pretty too.”

“Noted, the pink lady's eardrop are your favourite among eardrops.”

You break, turning to him, voice raising in minor annoyance. Jungkook bites his cheeks to keep a smile at bay.

“They are magenta. Not pink. Pink entails a lighter hue, there’s more titanium white in pink. That,” you point again, “is very clearly, magenta.”

He has to.

He can’t help it.

You’re sexy when you're assertive, he thinks. Tip toeing on that nice, big line.

But also hilarious.

“Same difference.”

He can see the fire in your eyes blaze.

“No, not ‘same difference,’ they’re magenta!”

He’s leaning in. “Pink,” eyeing your lips as you speak.

You lean in too, enunciating every syllable to prove your point. “Ma-gen-ta.”

Your noses are mere inches from touching.

“They’re pink, Van Gogh,” he backs off before he does something stupid that he’ll regret, “Don’t get so invested.”

You back off too, sass still very evident when you reply, “They’re fucking magenta, asshat. Two completely different colours and you’ll label them as such around me.”

You’ve always had a mouth on you. One you aren’t scared to use when necessary, especially around him. So he doesn’t push any farther, knowing he’s already gotten what he wanted and then some.

But also because sitting has become slightly uncomfortable. There was a stiff breeze, he tells himself.

Thank god for baggy, oversized hoodies.

Returning once again to his work, he puts an elbow on the table and places his hand on the left side of his face to hide the massive smile that’s trying its best to turn into a smothered laugh.

Unfortunately for him, he lets his Princely guard down around you and so he forgets to force it down to an uncomfortable degree like he would at the palace. His laugh slipping out as a strangled noise and he quickly turns it into a cough, hoping you don't notice.

But you do, because it’s you. Of course you do.

And the look on your face is priceless.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” he says way too high pitched. “Nooo, I would never, one hundred percent intentionally, say pink just to get back at you for pointing out the non-existent blur in my perfectly clear picture.”

He can see you trying to control your features, can see you failing and giving up by facing your canvas again, smiling to yourself.

“I was wondering how many times I could get you to say it. I think that was somewhere around ten? Gotta be a new record.”

You roll your eyes at him, but your quirked mouth remains.

“You’re such a dick,” you quip.

“Yet, you like me anyways.”

You mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Awe, c’mon now. Fess up.”

A pause, before, “I said I just remembered I don’t know your favourite colour.”

No you most certainly did not, but he’ll let it slide.

“Black.”

“Ugh, boring.”

“What?”

“Boring,” you say again with absolutely no hesitation and proceed to grace his eyes with your own. “And technically not a colour. Black’s a shade.”

Jungkook offers up a non-smothered chuckle, saving his throat from further shenanigans.

“Whatever, Seurat, it’s still black. What about you? What’s Miss High and Mighty All Knowing of Colours’ favorite?”

“It’s still a shade,” you repeat.

“It’s still my favourite. Answer the question,” he presses.

You give him an unimpressed stare.

“Violet. Royal violet. The one your dad wears a lot,” your expression softens to one of wonder as you continue. Like you didn't just refer to the King of the nation you live in as ‘his dad’ so casually. “And when it’s not that, it’s this bright yellow. Like sunflowers or daffodils. Or the colour leaves turn in the fall when the light hits them from above just right.”

It’s Jungkook's turn to stare now. You look lost in your own head, envisioning the colours you describe, seeing them dancing in your eyes. And he can’t help himself, you glow when you speak about something you're passionate about.

“Why two?”

“Why not?” you answer, still dreaming, colours swimming in oceans of thought. Your voice is almost whimsical. “Don’t you get bored of one colour for too long? It’s nice to switch things up every now and then.”

His reply brings you back down to earth, albeit slowly.

“Red.”

“Hmm?” you touch ground.

“If you won’t accept black, then red. The rich dark one, like blood.” He chose the first colour that came into mind, not really caring which one.

He did like red. Red looked good in many ways. On cars, clothes, lips...

But he chose the first one that popped into mind because after hearing your favourite colours and the reasons why, he started to like them more than all the others too.

“Red’s a great choice, strong,” you say, allowing him the blanket term just this once.

“Thanks.”

There’s a moment of comfortable quiet between you before you break it.

“When do you need me for the shoot?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows find his hairline.

That was a yes, right? You’re saying yes?

“Uhm…soon, I’ll let you know the specifics when I do.”

“Sounds good.”

He was going to leave it at that, but adds, “Thanks, Y/N.”

He hasn’t said your name since the assembly.

Always nicknames when talking to you. Always.

Never your name.

Not once in two months. Almost three.

You—

An inhale.

You…like it.

The way it sounds coming from his lips.

Exhale.

Chapter Eight: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

A/N 2: She's shorter but chapter 8 is like 11k so far, so I hope that makes up for it!

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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arts-bloody-rose · 1 month ago

Text

Blood of A Rose - Dangerous Territory (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - As (y/n) and Art bask in their growing relationship, a new fan of (y/n)’s dares to make themselves known.

Notes - A request for a fan/stalker fic to add to the series! I’m such a whore for reader having scary dog privileges with Art. Let me know if you have more you would like to see from this beautiful couple 💕

Word Count - 3,256

Warning(s) - Blood, gore, violence, stalker, smut (voyeurism)

Song Inspiration - SAYGRACE - You Don’t Own Me

(Y/n) stood beside Art’s workbench, easel in front of her as she painted away while he twisted and screwed. Her camera sat on the spare stool, the photo of the terrified woman open and used as her main subject while she made improvisations along the way.

She made a point to remind herself to bring her camera whenever her and Art went together, the raw fear and emotion he brought to his victims drawing a copious amount of inspiration for new pieces.

While her photography was fun and equally beautiful, there was something more soothing and calming about a canvas to her, especially in the presence of her favorite company.

(Y/n) sighed, her wrist cracking as she flexed it, stiff from holding the brush for some odd hours.

Art looked over at her and got her attention, waving for her to step away from the easel and motioned to take a deep breath.

“I know, I just get so invested to a point where I can’t stop.” He gave her a disapproving look. “But I think it’s about that time, yeah.”

She stepped away and took off her apron, moving to a nearby basin to wash her hands before putting away her camera. She grabbed the stool, making her way over to Art to sit next to the workbench.

“Whatcha making this time?” She asked curiously.

Art’s grin met his eyes wickedly as he raised his shoulders in excitement. He dramatically waved his hands over it, showcasing to her what looked like a bear trap, but it seemed to have a contraption to fit a head. Art hooked his fingers into his upper and lower mouth, slowly pulling his lips apart to represent what it did.

(Y/n) gasped and nearly gagged. “A reverse bear trap?” Baffled, she looked between the torture device and Art. “It’s - it’s impressive. And rather ingenious, if I’m being honest. Possibly your best yet.” And by best, she meant most disturbing.

Art swayed in his seat bashfully, blinking rapidly to accentuate the emotion. (Y/n) giggled and shook her head, the clown clapping to himself before returning to his work.

She tried to focus on the equipment he made, forearm resting on the bench while her other elbow did the same, chin resting in the palm of her hand with a content smile. She tried to focus, but her eyes couldn’t help but drift to his hands as they grasped at his tools.

Her eyes then slowly traveled up his arms, his torso. Up to the painted face she had grown to love and adore. His eyes carefully focused on the task before him, his mouth ticking up and down every now and then as he concentrated.

The intensity of his focus was enough to make her stomach flutter, a rare moment where she could see him without his theatrics. Where she could see him vulnerable, trusting her enough to comfortably let down the persona he lifted to those outside of their safe space.

(Y/n) gazed up at him endearingly, taking in his every expression, every twitch of his face. Art then dragged his eyes over to meet her own, but she didn’t falter. Her smile remained with the same endearment that she openly showed to him.

“Hi.” She welcomed him gently, her voice nearly a whisper.

His grin finally reached his face and he waved at her, and if she could see the skin of his cheeks there would no doubt be a blush. (Y/n) stood with a certain level of grace and rounded the corner of the bench to stand beside him, wrapping her arms around his torso to which he gladly accepted. He rested an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, laying a cheek on the top of her head. His other hand sat on her arm at his front, fingers tickling the surface as they moved against it.

Bing.

Their heads perked up and they looked at each other in confusion. Art watched as (y/n) looked around, trying to find something. Her eyes landed on the spare stool where her phone sat and she pulled away to retrieve it, checking for notifications.

Alas, there was one.

Her face contorted further into confusion as her eyes skimmed over an email.

“What…?” She questioned to herself. “Someone just asked for a commission?” (Y/n) explained to Art.

His face frowned to join her confusion, head leaning in to say ‘ who? ’.

“I’m not sure, it was anonymous. Apparently they want this though.” She turned her phone to show him the message, and the further he read, the more he grinned mischievously. “Looks like we got work to do.” (Y/n) smiled at him with equal mischief.

“I’m half expecting it to be some kind of a joke and they just use it to humiliate me somehow.” (Y/n) thought out loud as Art listened from beside her, their hands linked together as he swung their arms between them as they walked.

Art shrugged, not denying the possibility. He stopped them, though, and turned to her. He motioned to her, then splayed his hand on his chest adoringly.

“You’re all that matters, I know. I’m just so used to everyone else’s negativity, that's all.” He grabbed her hand again and they resumed their walk. “I just can’t help but run through the possibilities.”

Art pushed himself into her and she stumbled slightly, shooting him a side glare while he laughed to himself.

“ Ha ha. ” She mocked him and giggled.

As they meandered casually in the darker town, they eventually came upon a wandering man that Art deemed sufficient, looking over at his partner for approval as it was her own commission. They ran through their typical routine consisting of Art stalking the victim as (y/n) mindlessly followed.

As they reached the man, he shrieked as Art dragged him into an alleyway, (y/n) casually leaning against the wall beside its entrance and waiting for the clown to do what he did best.

The sounds of struggle and screaming was simply background noise for the artist with how long the two of them had been terrorizing the county together, or rather Art. She simply tagged along to catch a photo or two, and to spend time with him of course.

For the times she did sneak a peek - accidentally - she couldn’t help the warmth that formed in her lower abdomen from the sight of him. Whether he was throwing around the victim like a ragdoll or pinning them down with simply a knee, his acts of strength always held a special place in her heart.

And something else.

Art eventually finished, stepping out of the alleyway with fresh blood on himself while hiding something behind his back, other than his bag. He looked over at (y/n) and wiggled his eyebrows, suddenly whipping out a severed hand with a look of surprise.

He threw himself into a laughing fit as (y/n) jumped away from it with a shriek, hunching over and slapping his thigh with the hand.

“You’re on a roll tonight, you know that?” She told him sarcastically and he pointed at her. “Well, I’m not holding your hand, now, not with that thing.”

His laughter immediately stopped and he pouted, watching as she began to make her way back to his - now, their - hideout.

Once they finally returned, they made their way to Art’s workbench and he generously cleared off one side for her to use, setting the hand on top of it as she set down a voluminous rose at the corner.

She picked off a few petals and scattered them methodically, leading towards the hand that was made to look as if it was reaching for the rose. She snapped a few photos of it, trying to catch good lighting as she did so until she was satisfied.

The hours that followed, she went through her photos, picking out the one her and Art liked the most, editing it further and going through the process of submitting it for the public’s consumption.

By the time she was finished, the sun was almost peaking over the horizon and she yawned, rubbing at her eyes tiredly.

“I’m gonna sleep here tonight, okay?” She told Art who looked at her from his spot at the workbench with an eager smile. She chuckled at him and gently grasped at his wrist. “Lay with me?” She asked innocently.

Art immediately sprung off of the stool, standing behind her and pushing her towards the bedroom as she laughed along the way. He shut the door behind them as she went to get comfortable on the mattress, now covered in a multitude of blankets and pillows collected from her countless visits.

He practically jumped onto the bed beside her and she yelped, swatting at him playfully. Once they finally calmed down, (Y/n) snuggled up to Art who laid on his back. She wrapped an arm over his stomach, a leg lifted up over his hips as her head rested on his shoulder. His nose nuzzled against her head, then placed an exaggerated kiss on it before shimmying to get comfortable with her.

Her eyes drifted shut, breathing in his unique scent. With how gruesome he was, it was surprisingly more pleasant than one would expect. Obviously, the smell of blood and grime would always follow him.

But she also caught whiffs of laundry detergent, grass and leaves. And the different smells of the houses and buildings he entered stuck to him. It was an odd mixture, but it was one she grew to call home.

While her eyes were closed, her mind wandered. She was flattered with the commission, flattered that someone finally appreciated her work. It was a surprise, but it also wasn’t the first she had received. Though they weren’t exactly common, either.

But the emails didn’t stop with the commission.

(Y/n) began to find unsigned notes in the mailbox of her house, writing about how perfect her art was, how it captured something no one else could see. She would’ve been flattered again this time around, if it wasn’t for the fact that she never publicly gave out her address.

She looked over at Art who closed her front door after stopping by to grab a few knives from her kitchen. Quickly, she ripped up the letters and threw them into her trash bin before he could question them, but he did so anyway after hearing the tear of the paper.

“Just junk mail.” (Y/n) reassured him and took hold of his free hand to begin their walk. Art gladly followed, but he glanced over at her suspiciously when he heard the slight change in flux of her usually calm voice.

The following days, as she continued to check her mail, the notes grew more personal, more intimate. They began to not only compliment her work, but began to compliment her own self.

They called her beautiful. Irresistible. They even went as far as to inappropriately describe what they would’ve liked to do with her.

As she read through a particularly explicit note - now accompanied by a picture of her house - her heart began to race as her lips parted. The paper began to shake in her hands and she suddenly looked up and around her, paranoia kicking in.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow move and whipped her head in its direction, but by the time she could decipher it, it was gone.

(Y/n) jumped when she felt a tap on her shoulder and saw Art now standing next to her with a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He noticed the genuine fear in her eyes and his mouth twitched, eyebrows furrowed as he knew she was not one to spook easily.

Art suddenly snatched the paper from her hands, grin slowly dissipating as his eyes skimmed over it, then the picture. His eyes squinted once he finished and looked around them, grabbing (y/n) by the fabric of her shirt and yanking her close to him forcefully. She immediately clung to him as his eyes carefully searched the area, searching for the poor soul that sealed their fate.

When he found nothing out of the ordinary, she knew it was going to be a long night for them as she watched the anger boil beneath his masked grin, itching to satisfy it.

Some nights later, she woke up from her sleep earlier than usual. She typically held a strict sleeping schedule, rarely diverting. And her clown always paid attention to detail.

Art watched her, his usual unblinking stare locked onto her tense form. She hadn’t looked at him yet, too distracted by whatever thoughts gnawed at her mind, but Art saw. He always saw.

She stood in front of her easel, her hand trembling as she tried to focus on her canvas. Her strokes were less confident than usual, her creativity clouded by whatever fear gripped her.

After some time, (y/n) then sighed in an uncharacteristic show of frustration, tossing the brush down and rubbing her temples. Her phone buzzed on the stool, and she glanced at it nervously. Another message.

Art moved silently behind her, peering over her shoulder at the text.

You’re even more beautiful in person, (y/n).

She flinched, quickly locking her phone, but not before Art had seen enough. His gaze darkened with his teeth bared. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like anyone intruding on what was his.

(Y/n) belonged to him. She was his, and he didn’t take kindly to threats.

(Y/n)’s anxiety was palpable, her breathing uneven as she paced the room. He watched her carefully, his fingers twitching with the urge to do something. To protect. To hunt.

When (Y/n) finally sat down, Art slunk away into the darkness, his mind already churning with thoughts of who this intruder could be.

But he would find out. He always did.

Not long after, (y/n) stood at her easel as usual, adding final touches to her current work when the door to the hideout busted open.

She jumped and dropped her brush in the process, turning to see a bloodied Art dragging a man by his ear into one of the empty rooms. He whimpered and cried helplessly after being thrown inside, Art exiting from the room he was in and entering another.

The clown dragged a chair back into the first room, followed by more sounds of struggle and chains being rustled. She stared at Art when he entered their workspace, a sadistic grin plastered on his face as he grabbed one of their stools, then took up her arm and pulled both into the room with the man.

She entered to see him bloodied and already ripped apart in a few places, gasping for air and choking on his own blood. Art placed the stool a few feet in front of where the man sat chained to the chair and patted the top of it.

Art then proudly moved to stand beside him, presenting him to her with a flair and wide grin. With a confused expression, (y/n) looked between the two men until Art pulled out the note with the picture. He held it up, teasingly shaking it, then turned to the man and shoved it into his mouth aggressively.

“You?” (Y/n) asked the man incredulously as Art made his way over to her, his eyes never leaving the chair. She looked over at Art who then wiggled his eyebrows at her, hands brushing over her as he coaxed her to sit on the stool.

Art kissed her cheek dramatically, tickled the spot with his finger, then looked over at the man with a surprised expression, hand over his mouth. His grin returned suddenly, eyes filled with a torturous perversity as he slowly locked eyes with (y/n).

Her breath grew shallow, shaky as one of his hands grasped her arm, stepping behind her before his opposite found its place on her other. She felt his breath fan over her neck, tickling as his nose and chin feathered over her skin.

His hands leisurely progressed down to her waist, exposed fingertips raising her skin in its wake. They grasped and applied pressure, squeezing before they lowered further to her hips, brushing over the bone as they passed to her thighs. Art squeezed at their inner fat, his tongue running along the shell of her ear luring them open as they both stared at the man before them.

The fingertips of one hand danced along the fabric of her trousers, inching their way up to her clothed center as her head tilted back, breathing into his neck desperately as he seduced her.

He teased (y/n), caressing over her sensitive bud as she sighed under his ear. His other hand rose to wrap around her front, tugging her into him forcibly. The hand that teased her finally began to apply pressure, the circular motion of his fingers making her back arch against him and his body pressed further against her.

Her hand moved to settle behind his neck as he continued his rhythm, breathing uneven as he began to increase his speed. Art himself released a shaky breath when she finally moaned, quickly locking eyes with the brave soul in front of them once again.

(Y/n) felt a familiar pressure begin to build, her legs growing antsy as she moved against him. His teeth bit down on the lobe of her ear, and she gripped his neck tighter as the pleasure flooded her senses. With a second bite, she cried out with her orgasm and Art reached up to her jaw, turning her head to face the man and forcing him to watch.

Before (y/n) could even recover, Art forced his hand under her trousers and panties, coating his fingers in her slick before plunging two fingers into her. With another cry, the stool beneath her teetered as she jolted at the intrusion, hand flying down to grip at his wrist as he began to pump his digits in and out of her while simultaneously securing the stool.

The hand at her jaw slid down to her neck and wrapped around it, tight enough for her to feel breathless yet not enough to completely block her airway. She gasped as it heightened the intensity of it all, and Art eyed her expressions menacingly before turning to look at the man to show his surprise of her reaction.

He bared his teeth once more after hearing her vocals shift, his fingers eagerly chasing after her release as she clawed at Art desperately.

Heaving out a rather fierce moan, she came on his hand a second time and he flinched back with excitement, laughter soon following as he rode it out and fed into it.

Art then eased out his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick at them hungrily. He steadied (y/n) on the stool before reaching down for something behind her, then slinked over to stand beside the man.

(Y/n) looked down to see a brick hammer in Art’s hand, watching as the clown bent down with his hands on his knees as he grinned ominously at her stalker.

Art held up the hammer to the man’s face and wiggled it, showing it off to him before suddenly pulling his arm back and sending it to his skull.

#art the clown x reader #art the clown #art #art x reader #terrifier #terrifier 2 #Terrifier 3 #terrifier x reader #clown #damien leone #david howard thornton #fanfiction #oneshots #request #blood of a rose #x reader

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shocymer · 8 months ago

Text

For Never to Forever

"What if the illustrator of your newest novel covers is actually your highschool enemy in the past?"

Pairing : Yunho × afab!reader

Word counts : 3.2k

Contents & warning : highly suggestive mdni! , fluff (maybe), college art students! Yunho, novelist! reader, short tempered Yunho (not in bad way), Hongjoong as reader manager, cursed words here and there, sloppy kisses, slightly dry humping, enemies to lovers.

× Happy Yunho Day! ×

Time is ticking like its always supposed to do, but Yunho couldn’t stop looking at it. The hour hand has only moved maybe a quarter of millimeter from its original position, made him annoyed even more. How could it not be, he just let his impulsive thoughts win over his professionalism few hours ago.

Well, It all happened this morning. He went to the nearest café where the appointment was made via email last night.

Sipping a cup of warm expresso that fulfilled his taste bud while waiting for his client. The café ambiance was so cozy, it plays as complementary role to his mood lifting. And the main reason of his happy self was, he got a commission for a commercial purpose the first time ever in his entire life. Plus, it’s not just an ordinary client, the request came from a well known novelist.

From : Eternal Sunshine

To : Me (Tyudongi99)

Subject : Commission Request For Novels Covers

Hello Tyudongi-nim.

I’m Eternal Sunshine, one of the novelist from Break The Wall Book Company Publisher. I really interested with your art. Would you like to work on my next novels cover? If you are interested, we can set up an appointment to discuss the further details.

I would be very grateful if you willing to accept my request.

Sincerely,

Eternal Sunshine

That’s the content of an email that Yunho received the night before. Kicking on his feet, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. He’s just a 3rd year college students that majoring in art. Never expected that opening commission on a whim would bring him to this. And then, he sent a quick replied as soon as possible that leading to today’s meeting.

“Oh hello, Tyudongi-nim.” A lady pulled her hand over to Yunho. She’s accompanied by a not so tall, with blonde lock man who’s standing next to her.

He shook your offering hand politely, “Hello, uhm perhaps Eternal Sunshine-nim?”

You nodded, throwing a simple smile before sitting right across to him. He’s staring at you closely while immersed in conversation. The way your hazel orb getting lighter when the sun beam hits them or the way your dainty lips curled when you smile occasionally. Somehow, all of it reminded him with the past. Wait wait, his past?!

He blinked his eyes rapidly, couldn’t believe what he just thought earlier. Your voice became a mere chant that drowning with the café hustle and bustle sounds at this very moment. He knew exactly who you are after the pile of his memories collided like it’s clicking on the switch inside of him.

“…so that’s the concept. I really-” a loud scrape noise coming from his chair was heard, interrupted your words. “-want you to..”

You turned your gaze out of the concept papers and found him staring intently towards you. Did I say something wrong? Am I offended him or something? Those questions played over and over on your mind nicely for solid three seconds, before his sarcastic laugh startled you.

“Well well, after all those great time. Now you’re asking this ‘going to be no where artist’ to work on your covers.” He crossed his arms while still looking down at you.

Your manager had the same reaction as you, dropping the jaw for a mere seconds. Then started to talk, craving for more contexts. “Ahem.. Tyudongi-nim, I’m sorry but what do you mean exactly?”

He snorted in annoyance, “She never appreciate my works on the first place to begin with.”

Oh great, It’s been a long time for your manager, Kim Hongjoong was facing a person like this. He took a deep breath, rolled the sleeve of his shirt to the elbow, before intended to give a long nice talk. “I deeply understand if her previous words probably hurt you, I’ll apologize on her be-”

“Ah right! Now I remember!” You spurted out, interrupting your manager just like adding gasoline to the fire in this situation. Both male gazes fixed on you. “Jeong Yunho right?” You got up from your seat, trying to match his height, and of course you can’t. He’s much taller than you, but at least you got those spirit to match him.

You snapped your fingers, before pointing at him. “Surprisingly, your attitude didn’t change at all.” Then, you poked on his chest with the same finger, “if you smart enough, you can figure it out by yourself why I said that to you.”

Furrowed the eyebrows while his face turning red as a boiled lobster, he slapped your hand away. How could he figured it out, if you’re the one who’s started to pick a fight with him in the high school. He thought to himself while his eyes still pierced into yours alternately left and right. The rationality went out of his head completely, and only anger was left behind. Hurting on his own ego, he grabbed the concept papers unwittingly then shoving it in his own bag before barging out of the café furiously.

Hongjoong and you exchanged glances after all of the ruckus. He ruffled his hair as if he still digested about what the actual fuck just happen, “you need to find another illustrator, like- how’d you find a weird artist with bad temper? Plus, he just left right away?!” You shrugged, giving him an expression like “I didn’t expect that either.” While tidying up less than a half of the papers left.

“But I think, you don’t need to worry about that.” You assured him that still yapping nonstop in the background. However, you knew Yunho so well despite his unreasonable hatred towards you.

Back to the square one in the young male artist’s flat who’s regretted it all. He just sent an apology email to your manager, after reading the concept papers thoroughly. Stopping the urge to bang his head on the wall surface, right after thinking carefully. He need some pocket money for the next months surviving here, how could he nearly miss this good opportunity due to his stupid action.

An hour has passed, all of the wait just paid off. A notification popped up from the email icon on his computer taskbar. His heart almost jumped out of the rib cage that your email address written on the screen instead of your manager. He clicked it with anticipation, perhaps all of the swearing and cursed words spilled in the email body because he deserved it. But it turns out a short sentence showed up instead, “Give me your contact information.”

He was silenced, typing the replied with a blank stare just like that. To be honest, he hated to admit about what you said in the café earlier. Only to realize that he didn’t change at all.

After he shared the chat ID to you, not too long your message coming through his chat lists.

(You) It’s much easier to discuss everything here rather than in email. And I think we need to meet again. Like you know, you just left half of the written concepts behind.

Even from the text, your unbothered manner radiating through it. He felt embarrassed due to how childish he was this morning.

(Yunho) Okay cool, when?

(You) Tomorrow afternoon?

(Yunho) Okay

On the next day, he pulled up to the same café after his morning class ended. First thing first to do was sketching the given concepts on a blank paper. He’s still remembered some details from yesterday and then he let you revised it when you arrived later.

Around 3 p.m. you almost there, to catch up the appointment with Yunho. Setting your feet on the sidewalk, you only need approximately ten steps to reach the café entrance. You saw your reflection on the glass window, before your focus shift to him. His prominent side profile and his soft cheek is a perfect combination. He’s still busy scribbling something with a serious expression drawn on his face, that made him hotter than his usual self. You can’t deny how attractive he is, even in the high school back then.

You came back to your sense, after Yunho knocking on the glass for few times, and read through the way his lips mouthing “are you okay?” from the opposite. You rushed in to the café in embarrassment that he caught up you’re gawking over him for quite some time.

“Ehm, y-you.” Still struggled to collecting yourself, your eyes darting to the table. His cup of coffee is nearly empty and some of his drawing tools scattered next to it. “How long you’ve been here?” You asked.

“11 or something. I don’t have anything else to do after class.” He explained it to you while busy on sorting some of his sketches. Then he handed it over, “I made several version of it, you can choose which one that suit on your taste.”

You took all of it, scanning thoroughly one by one. After thinking for quite some time, you drew out two papers of your choice to him. “I can’t decided between these two...” And yeah, the discussion continued until the evening of that day.

A week later, Yunho stomping on his way to your flat. Proceed to press your doorbell multiple times furiously. The reason behind it? He could counts on how many times you wanted revision. Not to mention he work fast and he wanted to report on every progress he made due to his own pretention, becoming a reliable artist for his clients. But for this one, he forgot to spell out his terms and condition especially about the revision limit.

Your sleepy face slowly appeared. You just opened your door after being annoyed with the doorbell rang over and over bombarding your eardrums. “What?” Out of all of the words that exist, why those one left from your mouth instead.

Yunho folded his lips into thin line for a split second and rolled his eyes after seeing you who’s completely clueless. He’ll fume at any seconds right after doing all of those ‘Jeong Yunho pre-angry habits’. You immediately stuffed your palm on his mouth as prevention, then pulled him into your flat.

He literally would protest but it didn’t happen, because you started to talk first. “Uhm, I know there must be something on your mind. But, we can sort it out together, right?” To be truth you don’t even know what’s wrong while you sat him down on the soft fur rug which placed in your TV room.

He removed your hand out of his face, “Is it fun for you?”

Ah, shit. He’s mad mad. You shushed him down, then you ran to the kitchen pantry on the pretext of making a cup of tea for him. Strangely, he complied. He just sat there quietly, while scrolling on his phone.

After you returned with two cups of the tea in your hands, you positioned yourself sitting to his opposite. “There’s like maybe.. you feel unsatisfied about something?” You asked him carefully.

Putting his phone to the side, he cleared his throat before answered you. “Listen, how many times did you asked for revisions?”

“A.. lot?” You’re not sure about the numbers and better not to mention it.

“Yeah right!” His veiny hand brushing through the strands of his hair, trying to pull back all of his sense. “You know what, it’s over than 25 times, it’s still only a week though!”

You’re confused as he did it all of it already, you meant to give it for a month task to do. “I didn’t expect that you do that so fast. I’ll pay you handsomely, okay?” You said that in your defense.

“Are you testing me? I bet there comes a lot more after I give you the last one.” Remembering all the sleepless nights he went through, plus he still kept up with the class schedule on the day time.

“Trust me, you’ll know why I did this. Or do you want to back off instead?”

He chuckled in anger, “Or do you mean to pick a fight on the first place?”

Your patience runs out as you literally fed up by those three words ‘pick a fight’ that feels like his only vocabulary since high school days, whenever he saw you. You pulled his collar, bringing his face closer to yours. “Now it’s my turn, listen to me. First, never in any slightest on my mind to mess with you.” You hardened the grip, “and second, please be matured Jeong Yunho, we are not a kid anymore!”

He pushed you down till you’re laying flat against the rug, he automatically join to fall as you still holding onto his collar for your dear life. Luckily, his steady hands kept himself from weighting on you. “If you’re not messing with me, why did you said all of that?”

“Said what?! Speak clearly! you always yapping that I picked a fight first, I said this, I said that. Just tell me what did I say before.” Your eyes getting redder as you worked up shouting at this stubborn young male, ruining your peaceful morning.

“You told me that I’m going to be nowhere with that kind of skills.” He took a deep breath, “You never know just a mere sentence, makes me think about it all the time.” The truth was he almost gave up on his dream when the insult coming especially from you, which he once had a feelings for.

“Because your art sucks back then.” You snapped. Before he’s going feral, you circled his waist with both of your legs, then turning him over to the side. Now you’re on top of him, while holding his shoulder to keep him stay still. You told the side of your story how you heard him talking with the group of his friends, meanwhile he’s your crush at that time.

You remembered how they’re talked on your back when you’re going insane preparing for the first debut novel.

“You saw her this morning? She’s such a book freak. Like every single days, I can see the pile of books on her desk, or in the library. To the point I’m sick looking at my own books.” One of Yunho’s friends talking.

First of all, it doesn’t matter if somebody else bad mouthing on you but it also came from him that making it worse.

Those friend slightly tapped Yunho’s upper arm, “She’s weird, right?”

Without hesitation he said, “Yeah she is-”

Enough is enough, you got up from the chair. You sure it was his voice, right on the opposite of the class wall to the corridor. You storming out of the class, hating to see your crush face. Then, you came back at noon only to mock his wobbly drawing on his sketchbook. Honestly you just want to take a revenge, but after you saw his badly drawn art, you can’t hold back your laugh. So that seems like you genuinely mocking after him.

Those newly information made Yunho speechless, which he’s still pinned down right now, under you. He averted his eyes from you that looking straight at him. “I never hate you okay, I even liked you.” You remarked.

He's still processing his thought, “I- I still can’t believed it”

Running your finger tips to his soft bear like cheeks, you cupped it and turned his head over so he looked back at you who’s alternately staring on both of his eyes to his reddish thin lips. “I’ll prove it, until you believed me.”

You pressed your lips to his all of sudden, made him flinched in surprise. Slowly but surely he kissed you back. The innocent kiss turn into a chaotic one as he hold the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. His tongue forced its way in, clashing on each other with yours. To the point you could hear the sound of both his and your front teeth bumped sometimes.

He sat up while continuing the kiss. His other hand busy tracing on your back, touched it by following your spine from the top to bottom. You slightly moved your chest forward in response, as his fingers tickling you, till the distance between both of you completely disappear.

You could feel his hard member poking through beneath his black jeans, while you grinding on his lap. He groaned between the kiss as you moving your hips back and forth faster than before. His digits slipped underneath the thin clothes you’re wearing, caressing your bare skin gently. A string of saliva formed after he decided to pull out from the kiss slowly, trying to stop before both of you coming undone anytime while fully clothed.

He lean on your slender shoulder, catching on his breath. On the other hand, you played with the tip from his nape hair while doing the same. Yunho and you stayed still for a while like that, till you realized there’s another pair of eyes watching you. When you turned your head to the front door, you saw your manager hanging speechless and slowly back away.

That lead you to slap your own forehead. Just forgot that you sent him text before, begging to be companied cause you didn’t want to deal with angry Yunho by yourself.

“No, it’s not like that manager-nim.” You wanted to stop him but Yunho still hugging you tight. “Please stay! Manager-nim, Kim Hongjoong!” Your plead is useless as his figure already disappear behind those door.

⁠✧

Today is Sunday morning, both of you went to a picnic date. Spreading out the mat with beautiful pattern on the grass field, you breathing in the fresh air. It’s located on the side of the lake. This was Yunho’s idea to bring you here, he said that giving it as a reward after spending full month of hell ride.

His design immediately approved by the editorial team without any problems by the end of last month. All thanks to your crazy revisions, he managed to survive walking out of the editorial room alive while people around including you said that they’re super annoying to begin with.

Now, Yunho busy painting on his sketchbook as his back lean to yours. Both of you sit back to back, enjoying the morning atmosphere. Chatting about a lot of topics here and there, while you’re flipping the page of your favorite book.

“I’m curious, how did you find me?” His skilled hand stained the colors from the tip of brush onto the paper surface.

“Hmm.. I don’t really know if it’s you behind the tyudongi artist tho.” You said that without taking your eyes off those collection of printed words.

He mixed another colors on the palette and back to questioned you, “I mean, why choose me out of another artists? I don’t have any experience on the big project like this.”

You stopped your activity then change the sitting position to face him. “Huh? I saw your works hanging in the local art exhibition few months back. Isn’t it also a big project?”

“Ah that thing, the artists doing it voluntarily without being paid. So there’s no pressure behind.” He explained to you clearly.

You nodded, “I see.. Uhm yeah, basically I was interested in your painting which the title is Forever, as I remember it.”

Yunho’s gaze shift to you as he realized something, “with the n or without the n?”

“Do you mean for never or forever?” You were dumbfounded by him. But he remained silent looking straight at you even though you are waiting for his answer. You sighed, “there’s no n between it, I’m pretty sure.”

He chuckled softly that you took his bait. “Then..” Putting his drawing tools aside, he grab your waist, pulling you into his arms. “There’s also no end between us.” He kissed your blushing cheek.

“Be my forever okay?”

#jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez fics #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #ateez x reader #ateez hard hours #yunho hard hours #yunho hard thoughts #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #yunho birthday special #cy for ateez birthday #shocymer

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