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gojology · 4 years

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Ringpops.

back to homepage pairing : gojo x gender neutral reader warnings : cursing, fluff. wordcount : 1688 a/n : i am so sorry for posting this late LOL, i’ve had a splitting headache all day and on top of that i had to make a buncha visually appealing aesthetic stuff for this so my poor brain is fried. welcome all new followers :) also this was rushed as usual... haha ████████████████ 100% Complete. Enjoy your game.

Valentines Day with Gojo was usually chaotic, but you didn’t blame him, it was apart of his personality after all. He didn’t take you to any particular establishment, really. You were curled up in your bed, exhausted from a long day of baking goods, watching sappy love movies, and overall shenanigans. You didn’t particularly mind this though, a soft lazy breeze preventing you from overheating, you sigh in relief. It’s like the weather knew exactly what you needed for a relaxing evening. Although, today seemed rather unusual. For the many years that you’ve dated Satoru, he never, ever dressed up. Usually he rolled out of bed, naked. A pair of grey sweatpants replaced what was usually his uniform pants. Just enough for you to see the start of his happy trail, in other words, a fruitful attempt of teasing you. He knew that he was attractive, and you didn’t mind fueling his ego. A toned body, almost like he had been specially picked by some divine being and gifted with society’s standards. But he had actually picked out an outfit for this particular Valentines Day, which you admitted was nice, but you also didn’t mind licking your lips at such a delicious physique. On the rare occasions that he picked out outfits, it wouldn’t be visually appealing, the guy only wore his work uniform or a casual t-shirt and a pair of shorts, or sweatpants. Yet, today? Weirdly different. Clad in a dark blue cashmere crewneck sweater paired with black jeans, he nervously picked at the clothing, fidgeting. You guessed he had gotten some fashion advice from one of his friends, as you also realized it was... Somewhat trendy. Chains dangling from his neck, a few from his pants as well, a designer belt... You had wondered who it was that was so gracious enough to make him hotter then he already was. The air of his usual carefree personality was gone, which was one of your favorite parts about him, and he had insisted this morning to take you to an actual diner, which you rejected. As soon as you turned your back to grab some more sugar, he pulled you back, hand on your shoulder. A determined look on his face that you could see even through his circular shades, clearing his throat. “Hey- just to be sure, pumpkin... You’re not denying because you think I’m poor or some shit like that, right? I’m financially stable as all hell, and I’ll buy you anything you set your eyes on, seriously. I need to spoil you sometimes, okay?” He spoke with a tone of nervousness, and you cocked your head to look at him, eyebrow slightly raised. “What’s with you today, babe? You never do this sorta shit.” Seemingly taken aback, he looked at you for a few seconds, unblinking. Wondering if it went one ear out the other, you’re about to repeat yourself before he shoves a hand on your mouth. “I just wanna try something new, that’s all. Carry on, sweets. Need more M&M’s? I can drive to the store and get them..” kissing your exposed neck a few times, suckling at the flesh, he snickered as you gasped, and that was the end of that. ‧₊˚✩彡. The thought never completely disappeared from your mind, instead it ran rampant. You were curious, after all. Why would perhaps the chillest and funniest guy you knew, be so scared and nerve-wrecked? “Hey, hey~!” you hear a familiar voice ring out, and you pick up your head from his pillow that you were laying on, adjusting your eyes so you could drink in his beauty fully. He wasn’t completely in the room, his head was poking out of the door just barely. “Finally, what were you doing? Took you a few years to come home.” casually getting up from your previous position, you hug your pillow, patiently waiting for his next sentence. “Ah... Uh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” he shuffled closer into the room, but he never quite came into view, the atmosphere of awkwardness was growing. Rolling your eyes, you giggle, desperate to have the mood be carefree yet again. “You suck at hiding shit, come on, lemme see, what’d you get me?” “It was supposed to be a surprise!” he said, exasperated, but he does it anyways. A beautiful scent of roses wafted throughout the room, a trail of spare rose petals danced down as he strode over to the bed, a playful grin on his lips. You cover your mouth with your hands, squealing. “Satoru! These are so pretty!” you ecstatically grab at the bouquet, the crinkling of the plastic music to your ears. You sniffed at the roses, pleasantly surprised at just how sweet they smelled. Vibrant hues of pinks and reds, small and large, a loose ribbon holding the bouquet together. Your smile is so wide, you struggle to hide it. “Glad you like them, honey.” he grinned, taking his shades off and placing them on his nightstand. “Hold on tight, more to come, love.” He takes a quick jog to the hallway leading to you two’s room, quickly getting out of view. Coming back just 20 seconds later, a teddybear half the size of him now limp in his hands, another ribbon around the teddybear’s neck. “For you, my sweet.” he sings, setting the plush down onto the covers. You look at the teddybear, staring at you with beady eyes, and back up at Gojo. “But babe, you’re my teddybear.” you cooed, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him. You see his facial features soften, before he immediately plants a sloppy kiss on your forehead, “Wouldn’t hurt to have another one, would it?” You nod your head in agreement. The chill aura seemed to vanish into thin air as soon as you nod, the silence was almost deafening. He stared at you, and you stared back, you hear your heart steadily pound in your chest. Usually he would make some sort of joke right now and then, but he seemed unusually serious, to the point where you’d be concerned. “You’ve been acting weird all day, are you okay?-” you ask, but you’re immediately cut off. Gojo gets on one knee, and your heart races and you swear you see the light, playing with the hem of his jean pockets before pulling some sort of wrapper out. A wrapper? It’s a Ringpop, two flavors. Blue raspberry and watermelon, he hastily places the blue raspberry one into his pocket again, cursing as he struggled to do so, before finally repositioning. “Will you marry me, (Y/N)?” It takes a moment to register into your brain, for one, he was proposing with a Ringpop, but you guess that’s like him, his love of candy was absurd- but a Ringpop of all things? You feel your face fall, and you hope he doesn’t realize. The thought was good, but it felt strangely.. Tacky, in some ways. Nonetheless, your heart is still pounding rapidly inside of you, and you’re sweating bullets now. Skin burning to the touch, you look at him, heavily breathing. “Yes, oh my God, yes.” is all you can breathe out. His solemn face was now beaming, eyes bright and twinkling. He seems to scoff, like he doesn’t quite believe that you said yes to such a request, but he doesn’t want to give it another thought. Immediately diving headfirst into your face, your lips touch, and even though you had kissed him about a thousand times today, you still returned just as much passion. You felt like your whole body was about to give out, wobbling as he placed the Ringpop onto the covers. Forgotten, it sat idly, but you didn’t care, and nor did Gojo. Hand now at the back of your neck, the other on your hip, the sound of sloppy kisses filled the otherwise calm room. They were strangely chaste, nothing sexual about them, yet they felt so fulfilling you wonder how he does it. He was unusually good at kissing, but you don’t want to tell him that- the egotistical bastard. He pulls away from the kiss, and you whine, pulling at the collar of his sweater to come back- to please you- but he pays no mind to you. Instead, he rips open the wrapper, throwing it to the ground, pulling up your limp arm. With a confident toothy smile on his face, he slipped the translucent pink plastic ring onto your left middle finger. “That’s my middle.” you say, struggling to stifle your giggle. Who cared about getting a Ringpop? It was the thought that counted, right? You still felt horrible, for whatever reason. “I know that.” he doesn’t say it directly to your face, instead shuffling in his pockets once more, before he whips out what looks like a black cube. This time, you recognize an expensive label on it, a miniature velvety black box. “I just.. Wanted to make sure you were committed, and that you didn’t want me for my money or some bullshit like that.” he grinned, opening the box, he doesn’t give you a moment to eye it, instead plucking it out and slipping it onto your ring finger. Only then could you look at it, and you cover your mouth once more, tears beginning to form at the corner of your eyes. It was beautiful, truly, and you couldn’t explain it’s beauty with words. Glimmering diamonds, alongside a beautiful silvery frame- it was perfect. “...Do you like it?” he asks, once again an air of nervousness. Unable to speak, you hug him instead, now full on bawling. He laughs, rubbing your back, giving you another neck kiss. “Holy shit, you’re so cute, pumpkin. Or should I say, soon to be spouse?” he cooed. “Shut up.” you say, still sniffling, snot running down your nose. He chuckles dryly once again, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “If you’re not gonna eat that Ringpop, can I?” “Zip it, can’t you see I’m crying, dummy?” you respond, still ugly crying. It was the best Valentines day you had ever experienced, and nothing could quite conquer it.

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miscellaneous-bnha · 4 years

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Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve been having this god awful itch for (lowkey) Yandere Scumbag Hawks.

Could be friends to lovers... if you squint? Slow burn? But not really? Uh....

Female! Reader

TW: Scumbag Hawks, Lowkey Yan, Breeding, Dubious consent, Hawks in a rut, Hawks has a knot simply because I deem it so.

You, a normal civilian, happen to stumble across a weakened pro hero Hawks who took an emergency landing on your apartment patio.

Of course you’re not going to leave him there; as warm as his coat may seem, what’s the point of leaving him out in the snow when you’ve got a nicely heated apartment you could let him in to.

Either he’s gone through some seriously rough shit or he’s a lot more out of it than you think, but he nearly scares the piss out of you when he points a feather blade at you, eyes wild and furious, before slowly registering that you’re just a normal civilian.

He grins— it’s more of a grimace than a grin, really— and moves the blade away from you, laughing sheepishly before breaking into a cough. When he moves his hand away, you can tell there’s blood on it.

“Sorry about that, pretty bird. Wasn’t expecting anyone. I’ll be taking off now.” He tries to climb to his feet, but he’s a lot more battered than he’s willing to show.

“Wait! Why don’t you come inside for a bit? Get some energy back before you go flying off to some other balcony.” You offer, and he smiles wryly.

“Would that be alright? I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Of course! Come in, come in!” You usher him in as he limps, helping him to the couch before going and shutting the patio door.

It turns out he ended up needing to stay a lot longer than either of you originally planned; a surprised snowstorm hit late into the night, forecasted to last for some days. He said that he could always try to brave it if you felt uncomfortable with a “strange man” in your apartment, but you only laughed it off.

“Honestly, with how often your private life gets invaded, you’re by far one of the least strange people.”

——————————

He ends up having to stay three days before the storm calms down, but he’s gotten significantly better since then.

Originally, you were worried about the blood in his cough, but it turned out to be a side effect of the blistering cold winds being harsh on his throat and a rough hit to the chest that left him winded and coughing, but nothing more.

The three days he did stay were rather enjoyable, and you found yourself missing his company when he had gone.

You didn’t think much of it though; he’s a pro-hero with an image to upkeep, so you doubted that you’d see much of him personally after this.

But ever the surprise, you found him knocking on your patio door not even a day later, grinning and holding up a bag of food.

“Thought it would be nice to at least return the favor. For taking care of me, y’know?”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Hawks. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

“Eeeeh, still. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see a pretty bird again.”

——————————

And just like that, you came to have an unexpected friendship with the No. 2 pro hero.

Whenever he needed a quiet place to crash or some company, you found yourself leaving the patio door open.

In turn, if you ever felt unsafe or if you had a bad day at work, a simple brush of the feather he’d given to you was all it would take to send him flying your way.

Monthly visits turned into bi weekly visits, then into weekly visits, then every other day. Soon enough, he started coming every evening. “What’s a meal without good company?” He’d said, holding food in one hand and drinks in the other.

“All that fried chicken isn’t good for you, Hawks. Let me cook you some actual food every once in a while.”

——————————

When he had suddenly disappeared for a week, you were concerned, but didn’t want to push him. Then two weeks went by with no Hawks, and you started to get worried.

When the third week rolled around, you unconsciously gripped the feather that hung around your neck, screaming in shock when there was a sudden **”THUD”** against the patio window.

“Hawks!? What are you doing?!” You try and check his face for bruising or bleeding, but he tried to bat at your hands weakly,

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Felt you touch your feather, so I came.” You wince,

“I’m sorry about that. It was an accident.”

“Ah, no worries. I’ll just head back home then.”

You fully intended on letting him go, but your mouth tended to work faster than your brain sometimes.

“Um, actually, Hawks...” you start, only to freeze when he faces you,

“Yeah?” You’re silent for a moment, then you shake your head,

“No, it’s nothing. Sorry.” You smile, but he doesn’t turn to leave again,

“Nah, I think there’s something on your mind. What is it?”

“... I just wanted to make sure I didn’t... offend you, or something. You’ve been gone for a while and I just...” you shuffle a bit, “I mean, it’s not really that big of a deal either, y’know? I just— heh— If you’re just tired of coming around all the time, that’s cool too.”

He looks baffled for a moment, then the realization crosses his face. You think for a moment you see him trying to plot something, but it’s gone before you can think on it.

“I um.... actually... do you mind if I sit?”

“Of course not. Feel free to do what you like.”

He takes a seat on the couch, his wings ruffling and fluffing up before they settle again. A part of you wonders if you really should have looked up bird behaviors.

“I.. started my rut, but I didn’t think it was possible.” And suddenly you start to feel a little stupid.

“O-oh... I— uh— I’m sorry.” He wheezes out a laugh,

“No, no, it’s fine. I should have said something instead of just disappearing.”

“Well, I mean, that’s your private matter so—“

“Technically yes, but... also, you have a right to know. You are the reason I went into a rut, after all.” Your jaw drops for a moment.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Not to say that I’m trying to blame you— I’m really not. It’s just... you know how you’re always cooking meals, letting me in?”

“Y...yeah?”

“My body thought I was trying to nest, so... it put me into a rut.”

“Ah... I see.”

You both sit awkwardly for a moment, so he stands and moves to leave.

“Anyway, sorry about that. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t come around anymore.”

“I, well, no. Wait!” You grab his arm as he tries to leave, making him halt,

“If... if it’s my fault, I want to help.”

“I, uh, w-well... it’s not— I— you know we’d have to fuck, right?”

You’re both bright red, you more than him, but you nod wordlessly.

“Well... so long as you’re willing to take responsibility...” he mutters. You’re too busy looking at your feet to see the wild grin on his face,

—————————

“Fuck, Hawks!” You yelp, his cock plunging in and out of you roughly,

“Shit, sorry baby bird...! Your pretty little cunt’s just sucking me in!” He growls, his hands pinning your shoulders down.

You’re stuck with your face in the mattress, ass in the air. With him looming over you, feathers spread across your room, shuddering in time with his wings, the only think you can hear is the wet slaps of his hips smacking into yours.

“Hawks...! You gotta slow down...!”

“I’m trying, but your greedy little pussy won’t let me go!”

You whine, head fogging over when his cock somehow manages to push deeper.

“See? You’re just sucking me in, baby!”

You feel the brush of more feathers falling onto you, shivering and tickling your already overheated skin. His claws dig into your shoulders when you twitch, making you borderline scream and clench tightly around his cock.

“Ooooh fuckfuckfuckfuck fffffUCK! Keep squeezing just like that, pretty bird. Tighten around my fat fucken cock!” You feel him drape himself over you, his chest pressed to your back, wings closing around the both of you as much as they can.

You suddenly feel something stretching and tugging at your entrance, and you start to squirm again.

“W-wait! You promised to pull out...!”

“How am I supposed to pull out when you’re the one squeezing so tight??” He growls, thrusts getting more frantic,

“Hawks!”

“Ffffffuck— just shut up and take it. Take my fucking cum—!”

You cry out sharply when his knot fully inflates inside of you, the sudden stretch sending you flying over the edge with him.

“Hawks...”

“Shhh.... this is all your fault, remember?”

“But you promised—“

“And I tried, but your cute little cunt just wouldn’t let go, pretty bird. You were practically begging for me to fill you up. Get you pregnant with my little chickadees.” He rubs your belly,

“But that’s okay, right? You said you wanted to take responsibility, remember?”

“Yeah—“

“Then take responsibility, baby. Have my chicks, and I promise I’ll take responsibility too.” The words to argue back are stripped from your mouth when he starts grinding his still knotted cock into you, making your mind go blank,

“C’mon, pretty bird. Say it for me. ‘I’ll have your chicks, Keigo’.”

“Ha—“

“Uh-uh. Not Hawks. Keigo.”

“Kei—!” Your voice cuts off into a silent scream when he hits the sweet spot deep inside you,

“C’mon, baby. Say it and be mine.”

—————————

You don’t remember if you ever actually said it all those years ago, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

You smile as you rub your swollen belly, watching as your eldest son and his little sister play in the yard.

“C’mon, kids. Time to go back in. Daddy will be home soon.”

“Okay!!”

And, sure enough, not even 10 minutes later, you hear the front door open, the voice of your husband echoing through the house.

“Where are my little chickadees?”

#crow rambles #hawks x reader #more tags later #if I remember

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yeojaa · 4 years

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ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack, smut. explicit.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities.

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020. 12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show. How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice. It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter.

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,” you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola. It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy. Things have just been—” Crazy? Out of this world? Some kind of wonderful? “—hectic.” He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek. It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind.

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants. “It’s fine , Jay.” The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help. “I know you’re a busy guy. Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks. You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances. A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts.

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying. Not at first, anyway. But when he does? He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter. So you were a little bit better than him. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self. He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.

“You’re mean,” he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it. “And yet you love it.”

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice. He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?” You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his. It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago. “I’m good, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.

“Yes, Mom .”

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!”

“Do you even know how old I am?” Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged. They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages? Where you grew up? Your real names? That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen? Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?” You’re chuckling at your own genius. He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve . Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him. It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

It’s a joke. Obviously , it’s a joke. He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry. It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too. “I have something to tell you.” There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity. Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push. “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.” A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted. You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent. He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening. “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…” How does he start? “I’m not just… some guy.” Okay, that sounds bad. He’s backtracking. “I mean, I’m a guy. I’m normal.” This is going so poorly. His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip. “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy. I’m actually like, uh...”

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly. He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart.

“Jinny?” It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation. Still, nothing. He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way. “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own. You’re trying to be serious, he thinks. “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?”

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.” A beat. He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission. “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault. It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!” He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.” He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice. Somehow, it feels different. Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity. “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?” Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him. “Of course not. You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this. He’s a million miles over the moon. You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” There’s no venom in your words. “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.” There’s that unabashed need to hear his name. He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.”

“Is your real name Jinny?” He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin. Jinny’s just my nickname.”

“Well, Jinny—” He says it dragged out and silly. “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first. He snorts. “I live in Seoul .”

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked. It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more. At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020. 10 PM.

Does he smell bad? Should he have showered first? Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail. They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?” Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.

“Are you nervous?” Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face. He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. “Of course he is.” Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!” The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.

“Shouldn’t you get going?” It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet. He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on. The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room.

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love. He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.” You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it. It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet. There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun. His heart stutters in his chest. He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance. It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband.

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are. It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist. You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed. He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume. Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home. You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips. Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw. He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence. They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head. He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas. It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district.

“Your laugh is even better in person.” You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.

“Yeah?” Can you see the hearts in his eyes? He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils.

“Yeah. But don’t let that get to your head, mister.”

“Already has - sorry.”

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red; how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty. He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour. You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny. You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down. You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face. There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him. You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on.

“Open up!”

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough. He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting. He probably looks stupid as hell.

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound.

“Too hot?” You coo, feigning surprise. You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you. “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing. It burns on the way down. “You eat one now.” He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.

“I don’t like squid,” you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours. You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago. He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food. You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen. He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover. You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?” You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip. He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you. “Of course.”

“I won’t post it anywhere.”

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t. Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth. You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose. “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his. You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb. It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp. “No need,” he mumbles, not quite looking at you. He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces.

“We’ll see about that,” you return, equally as soft.

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again. It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills. He should’ve booked you something later in the day. Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea?

“Right.” He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides. He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now. The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move. It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart.

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.

“Did you have fun?” He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab. You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect. You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.” There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back. It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.” There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection. Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall. Mozart would be proud.

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud. The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening. He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard. “I know.”

“You do?” He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.” You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin. “Can I kiss you?” Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.

“Hm.” The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined. It’s better than his wildest dreams. It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful. You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River.

“I’m sorry.” It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation. He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this. He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible. Needs it like he needs air - or more of you. Either or.

“Thanks.”

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers. He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down.

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor. You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours. He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.” A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020. 2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior. There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else. No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival. Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away. You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,” Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily. “You haven’t even been inside. Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back. It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.

“It’s a candle,” you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots. “What for? Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has. I know your birthday.”

Right. Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge.

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical. He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear.

“I had them before I met you.”

“Right.” It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him. This is how the two of you are. Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity.

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?”

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold. If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.

“Fine, fine. Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride. It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him. You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary. There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him. There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece; there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground.

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space. Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti. A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should. Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact. There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen: limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise).

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?” He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles. You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank.

“Maybe.”

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork? Really?”

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up.

“What’re you doing?” You join him even as you ask. He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer. He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?” Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure. It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love. You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm.

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?”

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd. He doesn’t mind, though. He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube. He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?” Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows.

“No.” Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.

“Why not?”

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear. It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.” He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle. He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves.

“Better?” You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world.

“Much,” he hums, unashamed.

“Welcome home, Kook.” The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest. He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet. There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room. It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game.

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game. He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in. He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew.

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.” He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.

You don’t move. He wonders when the last time you slept was.

“Jinny,” he repeats himself, a little louder this time. There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions. “Do you want me to take you to bed?”

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations. It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of.

Get it together , he scolds himself. In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No! Not yet.” You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly. It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.

“You want to sleep out here?” He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.

“No!” A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face. You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely. There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch. He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair. “I have a gift for you.”

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken. He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes. He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?” You’re looking at him with the strangest expression. He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does. It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him. “I do.”

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart. It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.

When he kisses you this time, it’s different. It’s urgent but not rushed; he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations. His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours. You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw. Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose. He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.” You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most. He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap. “You’re my dream girl, you know that?” The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands.

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind. You really could read him like a book. He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,” you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,” he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.

“Show me how sorry.”

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south. He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you.

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan. “Seriously - dream girl.”

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church. They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh. His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?” He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile.

You’re impatient though - always have been. “Straight down the hall. Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight. Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen. He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,” he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.” You say it a lot. He wonders if you really know.

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea. It’s not enough, though. He wants to show you - needs to show you.

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious. “Are you sure you know?” The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes. “Maybe?” You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do. It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?” He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach. It’s like a switch has flipped. For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour. A force to be reckoned with . “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer. You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?” You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one.

“Yes,” you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted. There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed. You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,” he says simply. It’s gone before you can think twice. Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was. The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist. “Please don’t hide from me.”

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?” He means your tattoos, of course. They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream. There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink. Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green. Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows. He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion. You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.” He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out. “My mom’s a big gardener. She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?” The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?” That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way. You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,” he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,” you retort - or try to at least. You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with.

“ Nicer , baby.”

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close. He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily. It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening; it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say.

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat.

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong. He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds. He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth. He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.

“Can you do that for me?” He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting. “What?”

“I said—” It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain. He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries. “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion. It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.

“Kook.” You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life. Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.”

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him. Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought. You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—” He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“What do you need? Ask nicely.”

“M-more. I need m-more .” A hiccup. “Please.”

“Like this?” You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat. “Or like this?” The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times. “Maybe like this?”

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.” Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system. He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb. Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him. He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.

“Give me another, okay?”

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit. The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers. There’s too much stimulation. You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook. Jungkook .” His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips. He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot. He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving.

“Come on, baby. Let go.” The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut. You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort. “That’s my girl.”

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you. He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest.

“You did so good.”

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.

“I want you.”

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest. “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.

“I know what you meant,” he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately. “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep. Patience is key, remember?”

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there. It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed. “Fine.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.” It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave. “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly. “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs. He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.” You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more. Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly. The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place. “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes. the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic). this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it. i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple. as always, let me know your thoughts. xo

tag list. @letmebeyour-sun @teawithbucky

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

strawberry milk & watermelon seeds

How to get through the worst summer heat: have a sweet drink, eat a sweet fruit, and have someone with the sweetest kiss around.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warning: fluff, cursing, one year later rewrite

word count: 2,855

a/n: so today is my one year anniversary of this blog. it’s been a rather weird and unknowing journey that I still cannot comprehend or put into words as to how this has changed me. one year later and I still love todoroki shouto the most, one year later and im still as invested into bnha as the day I first watched it. wild. anyways, thank you for watching my growth as a writer, and thank you for 14k followers in this single year. anyways, if you want to read the original to compare, here it is.

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“This day can not be any worse.”

With your sweating forearm thrown over your face, and the heat emitting from your face scorching your skin, your clammy skin provided small comfort from the overwhelming heat. Today, according to every news outlet in Japan, it was the hottest day recorded ever. At first, you didn’t believe it; your condo had cooled to near completion with your AC unit running happily in the background. You had spent your day free from work, merrily doing house chores while watching your old classmates text message thread blowing up with complaints about how torturous it was to be outside in this heat. (Even Bakugou who enjoyed hot weather because it benefitted his quirk was ready to go home and get into an ice bath.) That is, you were merry until your power went out.

“I thought you would be happy that you aren’t working right now?”

Ignoring the sweat the slowly pooled down your neck, you turned your head to look at your phone that stood against a stack of books. On the bright screen was Todoroki Shouto, who was wearing a shirt and a jacket despite the heat of the weather. Curse his fucking quirk.

“It was a happy day until the power blew, and I was told that the power wouldn’t be back on until night!” you whined, fingers pressing to your forehead to wipe the annoying sweat on your face. “Now I’m miserable at home, it’s hotter than balls, I have no snacks, and I am not going outside like this!”

You lifted your legs off the couch, shuddering at your sweating thighs sticking to the material. This was the worst.

“I can come over in a bit; it’ll take me about twenty minutes.” Shouto hummed, his left wrist rising as he looked at his watch. His face had a small smile painted on; it was a new look he was trying as he had stated earlier. As part of being a hero that reassured everyone he rescued, he was working on his smile.

While you would never complain about seeing a kind smile on Shouto’s face, it didn’t help your hammering heart when he looked at you with it.

“What?!” you exclaimed a bit frantically, your hand snatching your phone on the table while sitting up on the couch. Your flustered face a bit too close to the camera while you watched Shouto stand up from his seat and gather his things without minding your attempts to have him not come over.

The thought of being horrendously sweaty around your crush was not something you wanted to do.

“Do you like strawberry milk?” Shouto asked you, his head tilting to the side. At the same time, he picked up his phone, leveling the camera, so it angled below his chin (and you immediately noticed that even with the awkward angle, he was still unfairly hot). “There’s a store on the way to your place that I like.”

A strange noise that crossed between a whine and a sigh emitted past your lips when his eyes locked on yours in question. It seemed that you didn’t have much of a choice.

“I love strawberry milk,” you begrudgingly admitted, watching with heating cheeks as Shouto’s face spread into a bigger, more full, and genuine smile.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit then. Bye.”

You couldn’t say goodbye back, your finger immediately hanging up on him and your body shaking in your nerves. For right now, you couldn’t tell why you felt overheated: the record temperature or the smile that made your heart stop.

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If your mother could see how you cleaned your home in the twenty minutes it took Shouto to get to your place, she would cry in joy. In fifteen minutes, you had swept, mopped, and cleared the countertops of the slight messes they had been and quickly bolted upstairs to change into something less sweaty while reapplying perfume and deodorant because you would not make a fool of yourself.

“You look like a mess,” Shouto called out immediately as he stood at your front door. Despite his introduction, his hands lifted in front of him, and he showcased the bag of snacks and tea he brought.

Despite the initial feeling of wonder at opening the door to see him standing there in all his glory, his words' sudden bluntness immediately made your eyes narrow.

“I don’t come to your house uninvited and roast your appearance,” you scoff, turning on your heel and letting him in.

“Oh, was I not invited? I assumed I was allowed to come over, sorry,” Shouto’s voice followed after you, but it did nothing to keep him from staying. The two of you had grown incredibly close as friends. It was without question that he was allowed over whenever he wished, a detail that had taken quite a while for Shouto to accept.

“I wouldn’t’ve opened the door if you weren’t,” you sigh, your hands fanning the back of your neck as Shouto placed his guest slippers on and walked over. He put the bag onto the kitchen counter before walking over to you, taking your hands and pressing his right hand to the nape of your neck.

“Just making sure,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours in a careful gaze before his hand dropped in temperature. For the first time since your AC broke down, a shiver went through your spine.

You had no idea whether it was from the sudden loss of heat from your body or his gentle yet strangely warm touch. But with the loss of being overheated and reaching a better point of homeostasis, you realized that you had been wordlessly staring into his eyes. Falling deep into the blue and grey, drowning in the way they bore into you gently, intently.

“So, uh, what else did you bring me besides your stupidly advantageous quirk?” you asked, your mouth feeling unbelievably parched. At the same time, Shouto’s fingers slowly pulled away from your skin, leaving behind nothing but an exploding heart and raised skin.

To that comment, Shouto’s eyebrow lifted, and his lip quirked a bit too, a teasing look on his face while the two of you began to walk to the bag he had brought. He grabbed the bag before you, bringing it close to his chest as if to keep it from you.

“Sounds like you’re using me for my quirk, y/l/n. That wouldn’t be very heroic of you.”

“I’m off duty, I can be an asshole,” was your quick response, your heart beating faster at the chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest as he untied the bag. His eyes rose to yours, inquisitive and teasing, and an eyebrow raised.

Shouto seemed to debate whether he should say something or not, your locked stares never wavering. But before you could question what was running through his head, he pulled out the items from the bag. Your jaw dropped in your sheer love for what he brought you: two sealed cups of strawberry milk, half of a watermelon with two scoops, and an arrangement of other snacks you loved. There was nothing he could do to stop you from scooping up your nacks in your arms, tears misting your eyes because, at this moment, your lousy day had become good again.

“I hope you still like all these snacks, you always used to talk about them,” Shouto rubs the back of his neck, his gaze falling onto the sweet pink drinks before him. He grabbed the straws and punctured the drinks for both of you, and you looked at him with a smile of pure joy and disbelief.

“This is perfect, Todoroki, really! I love this so much!”

Maybe if you had been looking at Shouto and not at the bags of snacks he had bought for you, you would have seen the flush color climbing the back of his neck.

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It had taken Shouto precisely two seconds to bring your condo back to a habitable environment, a feat that had you quite literally jumping into his arms in your excitement. But in your sudden burst of emotional energy, Shouto had been taken back so abruptly by your arms thrown around him that he had iced over your entire living room. Both of you had stared at the iced room with shocked gazes, and while he looked on in horror, your face split into a shit-eating grin.

So despite his initial decision to defrost the entire room, you said it was fine. Grabbing the frozen watermelon (you had to tear the melon and the two scoops off the counter as it had also been frozen, not to mention you almost ate shit if not for Shouto easily catching you) the two of you retreated to your shaded patio, sitting on the brick and tasting the sweet melon while idly chatting between the both of you.

“You got the watermelon with the seeds!” you laughed loudly, letting the small black seed fall from your bottom lip and onto your await palm. “We have transgressed the need for watermelon with seeds! Have you never gotten seedless watermelon?!”

Shouto shoved you with his shoulder, his face grimacing a bit when a rather sharp crunch came from his mouth. Your laughter growing louder when a fractured watermelon seed fell from his tongue.

“The sign said it was seedless, besides it takes two seconds to get the seeds out, stop complaining.” Shouto groaned, placing the seed onto the pile the two of you had created. You had been taking a drink of the sweet milk as he said this, and his smile grew into a crooked grin at the sight of your eyes widening with the need to speak.

Tearing the cup from your mouth, you swallowed the liquid quickly before jabbing a finger into his shoulder, “Tell that to my face after I accidentally swallow a seed and a watermelon grows in my stomach!”

“The day that happens, I will personally let you dress me up in Endeavor merch.” Shouto wagers, his eyes watching as you scooped out a bit of the watermelon and shoving it into your mouth. You contemplated his words, thinking about the horrendous merch his father had and the humiliation he would have if he had to wear it.

Your teeth bit onto a black seed, and instead of politely removing it from your mouth as you had been doing, you turned your head toward the fence and spat out the watermelon seed.

“Oh, that’s tempting!” you sing out, your fingertips dancing against each other, a very comically villainous sight.

Shouto scoffed, his head shaking as he chewed his own watermelon before spitting out his own seed. You watched it soar through the air before falling somewhere near where your seed landed. Ever the competitor, your head tilted, trying not to take it personally as Shouto finally spoke.

“Is it? Well, we both know it’s impossible.”

You shake your head at his true remark, your mouth once again full of watermelon, and you concentrated on the two black dots on the grass. Rolling your shoulders, you spit the seed sitting on your tongue, and you refrained from sounding too victorious when your seed was now the furthest one out. So with the calmness of a child who had done something terrible and was attempting to not be caught, you turned to Shouto with a wink.

“Nothing is impossible!”

Shrugging, Shouto took another mouthful of the watermelon before sending a seed flying, landing what seemed like a centimeter further than yours. Your eyes narrowed at the taunting victory.

“Oh, but some things are,” it felt like he whispered that in your ear, and you turned onto him. Your fiery glare matching his while he took yet another bite of the watermelon. He did it without breaking his gaze with you, and an astounding grin spread on your face at the pure childishness of this all.

“...are you… are you challenging me?!” you accused, your eyebrows shooting to your hairline and your finger connecting with his nose.

Shouto smirked, his face turning back to the grass, and he spat out the seed, sending it much further than it had gone before.

“No. Not at all,” he said smoothly, his sight coming back to you, and as if to rub in the salt, he added, “We both know who’ll win.”

So, under the blazing hot sun, both you and Shouto sat with sticky sweet watermelon juice dribbling down your chin and black seeds soaring as far as they could go to only pathetically landing on laps. Slandering words were thrown about, but the echoing laughter told anyone who tried to overhear just how unserious this entire predicament was.

Your fingers wiped at the bottom of your chin again while tears streamed down your face from the laughter. Shouto was in a similar position, his head leaning against yours as three black seeds failed to leave his mouth and chose to stick onto his chin.

“Imma - holy shit STOP - Imma fucking pee my pants!” you wheezed, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t Shouto right now. “You look so dumb right now!”

“Your insults mean nothing to me because you’re jealous I’m winning,” Shouto forced out, his voice wavering with his own laughter and fleeing concentration.

“Only because YOU CHEATED!” you exclaimed, your fists weakly pounding onto his arm. “Who the hell burns a watermelon seed flying in the air if not to keep me from winning?!”

“Because you took five steps closer! That’s cheating!” Shouto pointed out, the back of his hand, wiping the sheen of watermelon juice and seeds from his chin.

“Whatever, I’ll end this all right now!” you rolled your eyes, and the both of you directed your attention to the nearly empty watermelon. Almost empty, save for one part that would be enough for one last scoop.

“That’s the last of the watermelon…” Shouto spoke softly, his hand grabbing his spoon the same time you did.

“Yeah, and?” you pressed, your gaze narrowing as he lifted his spoon, moving it to push against yours.

“You were the last one to spit,” he said, trying to box you out of the melon.

Your jaw dropped, and you pressed against his again, trying to keep him from doing as he pleased. “I called it first!”

“You can’t go twice!” he pointed out, his hand wrapping around your free wrist to keep you from potentially hitting him with that arm.

“You went twice earlier!” you countered, pushing forward, leaning on with all your weight in hopes he would back off. You had to win.

“I’m the guest at your house, be better accommodating!”

Push.

“Oh yeah?! Well, ladies, first!”

Shove.

“Clearly, I am acting more ladylike right now, so it’s not you!”

But in an unequal push, you sent Shouto and you tumbling off the patio and onto the floor with a thud. Your eyes were squeezed tight as the earthy ground made contact with your back, and you sighed, knowing you hadn’t been hurt. You saw the watermelon on the floor, the last scoop of the sweet fruit ruined with dirt and grass, but you froze when you became aware of the way Shouto had landed.

His forearms were planted onto the ground by your head, his eyes wide and his mouth parted slightly. His warm and minty scent easily carried into your nose like this, and the smell of the strawberry milk still clung to his lips. Immediately your face exploded in heat, and your sight went dizzy in the situation you were in.

“...the watermelon… um, you dropped the watermelon, Todoroki,” you painfully whispered, unsure if speaking would send him away from you, acting like this didn’t just happen.

Your beating heart was loud in your ears, almost washing out the summer day's sounds as Shouto studied you carefully before turning his head to look at the indeed ruined watermelon. Still, he made no attempt to move off from on top of you.

“We can go buy some more in a bit.”

“I… but Todoroki--” you almost shuddered, unsure as to why that simple sentence ignited something profound from within you.

“Don’t-” Shouto interrupted, his brow furrowed, and his eyes dark while he looked down. Shaking his head, your breathing stopped when his eyes met yours. There was no hesitation, no doubt, and something you never knew you would see in his eyes: adoration. “Shouto. Call me, Shouto.”

“Shouto…” you breathed out, the sound of his name on your tongue foreign yet otherworldly pleasant.

And his eyes warmed at the sound of his name, and you could do nothing when his sugary sweet lips connected with yours, pressing thoroughly and gently against yours. Today had been a mix of goods and bads. Still, the moment his lips claimed yours, everything in the world quickly faded away. There was nothing to focus on except Todoroki Shouto and the way that you would forever crave the way his tongue and kisses tasted like strawberry milk and watermelon seeds.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

400 notes · View notes

farmhandler · 3 years

Text

for your sake

Fandom: Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku/Tanjiro

Rating: T

Chapter: 5/6

Word count: 5 K

Summary: Rengoku is dying, but Zenitsu has an unorthodox idea that might be just what they need.

Warnings: Omegaverse, alpha!Tanjiro, omega!Rengoku, Trope inversion/subversion

A/N: I have not kept up with posting on here! I don't know that any of you care but here you go!!!!!!!

Read on AO3

---

If Tanjiro couldn’t get through to Rengoku directly, there was another way to reach him. That very evening, with Zenitsu’s comment on his mind, he visited the kitchens.

“Excuse me, do you think you could give an extra serving of this to Rengoku?” he asked one of the cooks—the one who doted on him more than the others. “I’ll pay for it.”

The cook glanced at him and then smiled knowingly. “You don’t need to pay for that. Of course I can bring your mate an extra serving.” She winked. “I’ll tell him it’s from you.”

“Thank you very much!”

Tanjiro had considered trying his hand at cooking, but he didn’t trust himself to consistently make food that would appeal to Rengoku. And food was the only means he had available. He reasoned the best way to accomplish this new task was to offer his services doing anything the helpers and cooks needed—if they could do just a little extra work for him.

In the days that followed, Tanjiro made sure that something reached Rengoku that Tanjiro had touched. He usually left it at something small and easy to acquire like an extra serving or a snack. A few times, though, he made use of his leftover sweet potatoes and with help had the dish delivered to Rengoku around dinnertime.

He was ill at ease with the way things were, but this kept the worst of his worries at bay. Being able to provide for Rengoku—even if all he did was send food over—fulfilled him more than he’d thought. The constant, burning flames inside him felt more under his control.

After a few days, the helpers even began to expect his requests.

“Another serving, right?” Aoi asked, clearly amused. She was on kitchen duty and intercepted Tanjiro by the door. “Careful, we accidentally burned food in one of the pots. There’s still smoke. I’ll make sure Rengoku gets more than his fill.”

“And can you let me see it before it’s sent off?”

Aoi looked at him like she wanted to say something about that, but she ended up sighing and nodded.

“Sure. I’ll also let him know you’re still around, since things are like this.”

“Thank you, Aoi. You’re really kind.”

She sputtered, then turned and walked back into the kitchen. “Yes, yes. Stay out of the kitchens for once!”

The one thing Tanjiro didn’t do was ask after Rengoku, no matter how much he desperately wanted to. He knew that if he heard too much about him, he would be too tempted to go find him. The fatigue and sickness already ate at him enough; it was to the point that he had temporarily stopped training. Seeing how well Rengoku had been the last they spoke, he hoped that the worst consequences were something only Tanjiro was experiencing, being the one who had given him the bite.

Support, he thought, lifting a bowl of meat buns he was going to hand off to a helper. He rubbed his hands along the edges of the bowl, spreading his scent, and then he touched a few of them to do the same. Support Rengoku. You get to see him when you see him.

“You know, it’s sweet, what you’re doing,” Aoi told him, after watching him carefully spread his scent among the buns. “Rengoku still doesn’t seem to be doing as well as we’d hoped, but he always eats the food you send to him.”

She paused, and Tanjiro could sense the unasked question.

“Rengoku has made it clear he doesn’t want to see me,” Tanjiro admitted, after a beat. “Most likely, he’s considering the ramifications of my actions and he decided this is what he wants. But,” Tanjiro continued, lifting the bowl of buns with a smile, “I can still attune him to me slowly like this. As long as he enjoys the food, I don’t mind.”

“And what about you?” Aoi asked. “I know why you’ve been sick.”

Tanjiro looked down at the buns. “I’m the eldest son,” he said. “And I’m an alpha. This is easy!”

He lifted his head and smiled.

“Would you mind taking this to Rengoku for me? I’d appreciate it!”

Aoi sighed and reached out with one hand.

Although Tanjiro put on a face of cheer, every day left him feeling more despondent than the last. Rengoku may not have rejected the food Tanjiro had sent his way, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he was being rejected overall.

Tanjiro had heard about what it was like for mates to reject each other. The stories never ended well.

He swiped his palm across his forehead. As was usual for this time of year, it was relatively cool outside, but he felt overheated.

Sometimes it feels like if I lose focus, or I stop my Total Concentration, Constant breathing, I’ll fall right over.

A scraping sound echoed at his left. He turned to see Nezuko crawl out of her box and stand at her full height.

“Good morning, Nezuko,” Tanjiro greeted, as cheerfully as he could manage. Tanjiro was seated at the edge of her bed. She stepped away from the box and came over to greet him by sitting down and clasping his hands in hers.

Good morning, Tanjiro, he could imagine her saying. If she removed the bamboo from her mouth, she could have spoken, but since its placement, she had never taken it off. Tanjiro suspected it was as much for her own sake as it was others. It was a reminder of what she had become, and how careful she needed to be.

Tanjiro glanced at the window. Dusk had settled into dark.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

She nodded and brought her fingers to the front of her mouth, tapping on the bamboo twice.

Hungry.

Because of the bamboo, Nezuko couldn’t speak. Yet despite that handicap, she had found ways to signal her own needs.

“I bet you are,” Tanjiro said sympathetically. “Sorry, Nezuko. I doubt humans taste good, anyway.”

At that, she shrugged, the a curious glint in her eyes. They rarely joked about what had become of her, and what she technically needed to eat. Tanjiro didn’t know what possessed him to do it now. He always assumed it would be a tough subject for her to acknowledge.

“Hey, Nezuko, I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, changing topics.

She made an inquiring sound.

“Do you remember how the others in town would always try to court you whenever you came down with me?”

Nezuko raised a brow. She nodded slowly.

“I know, it’s probably strange of me to ask suddenly. It’s just—would you mind listening to me for a bit?”

Nezuko shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes as if to say, do I do anything else but listen?

“Sorry.” Tanjiro chuckled. “It’s just… it’s about Rengoku.”

Nezuko scooted closer to him on the bed and laid a hand on his shoulder. She jostled him gently, a silent command to go on.

“I told you about everything that happened. About what we did to save him.” A nod. Tanjiro swallowed and folded his hands in his lap. “He doesn’t want to see me right now. Probably, everything that happened is finally catching up with him. He seemed unusually well-adjusted at the beginning, but now…”

Tanjiro exhaled and ran his hands over his pants.

“I don’t regret what I did. Rengoku is alive because of it. But it keeps eating at me all the same. I’m not sure why, exactly.” He sighed again. “I’m so tired, Nezuko. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this tired.”

Nezuko’s eyes widened imperceptibly. She lifted herself off the bed and sat further back. Then she patted her lap and gestured for Tanjiro to lay there.

“Maybe not that tired. I’m not a kid anymore,” Tanjiro said. “And I’m older than you.”

A sound of frustration came from Nezuko. She yanked on his arm, and because she was much stronger than him physically, he fell into a heap directly over her lap.

Tanjiro moved to rise, but Nezuko’s hand pushed into the back of his head, forcing him to settle down into the soft weight of her kimono. She smoothed her hand down back of his head, and he could practically hear the words he said so often echoed back at him.

There there, Tanjiro.

For some reason, tears stung at the space behind his eyelids.

“You know, Nezuko,” he said, settling into place, “after everything I’ve done, I’m not surprised Rengoku is avoiding me.”

He hesitated then, and Nezuko made an encouraging sound.

“It’s just… throughout all this, I’m constantly reminded of the way I acted when they first brought Rengoku home. I… I tried to attack people helping us. I told you about that, didn’t I? I was so embarrassed afterwards. And ashamed. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. I didn’t even—there wasn’t even a question there. I just… acted.”

Tanjiro’s fingers curled into a fist over Nezuko’s knee. There was a stray thread sticking out of the edge of her kimono, and Tanjiro stared at it.

“When Rengoku is around me, I feel—” safe, happy, at peace “—dangerous. I did something dangerous. Something horrible. But it saved Rengoku. And I’m…” Tanjiro chuckled weakly. “I’m happy about that. Is that horrible of me? Is that it?”

Nezuko’s hand on his head never faltered. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“Sometimes I am ashamed, Nezuko,” Tanjiro admitted. “I like Rengoku. He’s kind, and strong, and he smells incredible. I’m ashamed because even though I feel like I’m a danger, I want to be around him. I have to be near him. And after everything that’s led up to this, with our family, and the train, and if—if I had just been there when our family was slaughtered, or when Rengoku—if I could have been stronger, and helped him more during his fight, he wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Tanjiro knew he sounded halfway incoherent. The words spilled from his mouth in a hurry, as though admitting them might finally make it all makes sense. He felt Nezuko’s hand stall at the top of his head. He didn’t expect her to know what to say as his little sister, and he hardly knew what he wanted to hear.

As the silence continued, he thought that would be the end of it, but then he heard her voice rise up from behind the bamboo.

She was humming.

Tanjiro instantly recognized the song. It was one of the songs their mother used to sing. If she was in middle of something, they might catch her humming it, the notes often fading into the background, yet irreplaceable in his memory.

Everything will be okay, their mother used to tell them. My children are strong.

The tears collecting behind Tanjiro's lids overflowed and trickled down his cheeks.

“Nezuko, if you keep doing that, I’m going to fall asleep,” he said, his voice wavering dangerously.

Nezuko kept humming, finishing the song and allowing Tanjiro to collect himself. Once he was no longer in danger of becoming a sobbing mess, he felt her hand squeeze his shoulder. Then her fingernails dug in, making him twist his body to look up at her, blinking away his tears.

He met her eyes as she stared at him. When she looked at him like this, with her fierce and unblinking gaze, it almost felt like he could hear her thoughts.

This isn’t like you.

“I guess I haven’t been feeling like myself,” Tanjiro said.

Nezuko huffed, gesturing for Tanjiro to give him both her hands. When he did, she flipped them so they were facing palm up. She took his right hand and drew a symbol with her fingers.

“…Past?”

Nezuko made a sound of agreement. She let go of that hand and did the same thing on his left hand.

“Future…?”

Drawing his gaze back to hers, Nezuko pushed down on his right hand and held up his left. She curled into a fist and shook it emphatically.

Future.

Tanjiro was suddenly thrown back in time. The words that Rengoku had spoken to him near death loudly rang through his head.

Go ahead and live with your head held high! No matter how devastated you may be by your own weakness or uselessness... set your heart ablaze. Grit your teeth and look straight ahead.

As long as you remain untethered by your past, you will succeed.

I’m an idiot, Tanjiro thought. How blind have I been that I’ve forgotten what Rengoku told me? Even if his death never came, those were his dying words. If he weren’t alive today I would be disrespecting his memory.

“Nezuko…” Tanjiro pushed himself up into a sitting position while Nezuko still held onto his fist. “You’re right. You’re right. What am I doing, lying here complaining about the past? This isn’t like me.”

He smiled at her. Nezuko’s eyes crinkled like she was smiling back.

“Thank you, Nezuko. Thank you for listening, and helping me remember.”

Tanjiro threw himself off the bed. The world tilted, but Tanjiro righted himself and lifted a triumphant fist into the air.

“Rengoku is alive! He’s my mate! Nothing we can do can change that now. I need to look forward.” He breathed in, imagining inhaling Rengoku’s scent.

“I need to see Rengoku.”

---

Nearly a full day passed after the conversation with Nezuko. Tanjiro intended to see Rengoku that very day, but shortly after spending most of his evening with Nezuko, he went to bed early after developing one of the fiercest migraines he’d ever experienced. It lasted all night and into the early morning, and Tanjiro only managed to get some sleep once one of the girls brought him a medicated solution.

The next thing he knew, Zenitsu was shaking him awake.

“Tanjiro! Tanjiro! Seriously, wake up! Do I need to slap you?!”

“Huh?” Tanjiro’s eyelids fluttered open; he immediately winced and squinted at the bright sunlight that seemed to find a way to beam directly into his brain. Thankfully, by that point his headache was mostly gone, but even though Zenitsu was jostling him, he felt like the thick fog that always hung over him had grown even thicker. His head lolled even as Zenitsu forced him into a sitting position. A glance at the window told him it was just past sunrise.

“Zenitsu, what are you… saying?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you! Rengoku collapsed!”

The words didn’t register at first.

“Rengoku? What about Rengoku?”

“He collapsed!” Zenitsu shrieked. “And what’s wrong with you? Does this have to do with your bond? Are you going to fall over? Because that’s what Rengoku did!”

“What?” The words finally made sense in his mind. He sat up straighter and gripped Zenitsu by his forearms. “Zenitsu, what did you just say?”

“Like I said, Rengoku collapsed. I was just passing by his room this morning. I could hear him talking to the helpers when all of a sudden I heard a thump, and they yelled out that he had fallen over.”

“What?”

Now wide awake, Tanjiro leapt out of bed with Zenitsu still clinging to his arm. It was a perfunctory attempt at comfort, and with the fog still hanging over him and the rush of panic at hearing Rengoku was unwell, Tanjiro reacted on instinct.

The growl that erupted out of him was a sound he hadn’t even known he was capable of making, not at a close friend.

In an instant, Zenitsu had let go of him and scrambled backwards, eyes saucer wide.

“I’m so sorry, Zenitsu!” Tanjiro hurried to say, ashamed. “I’m sorry. You came to wake me up and told me what was happening. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Zenitsu said. His voice shook, but he didn’t look overly upset. “I get it. You’re his mate, right? Of course you’re worried. I thought something like this would happen eventually. You both have been looking like such crap for a while now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I mean he’s been sick, too, right? Whenever I saw him I could tell. He’s been sick, just like you’ve been sick.”

Tanjiro went stiff. This was the first time he’d heard how Rengoku was doing. The scent that he could barely detect on Zenitsu was too insignificant to get a reading. It had been that way for a while now; Tanjiro hadn’t sought out Rengoku, giving him space he needed, and he thought he’d been doing the right thing. But if he felt bad enough that he had collapsed…

Tanjiro, you idiot. You realized what you needed to do a day too late.

“Zenitsu,” Tanjiro said. A strange sense of calm fell over him. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Tanjiro—“

Tanjiro didn’t wait to hear what he had to say, and he didn’t bother getting dressed. Still wearing his pajamas, and with the tail end of a throbbing headache, Tanjiro ran out of the room, nearly colliding with the door on his way out.

Out in the hallway, running became sprinting. Since it was still early morning, it was relatively quiet, but to avoid running into any people—and because he didn’t fully trust himself not to accidentally growl at someone when he was still somewhat out of it—Tanjiro moved sidelong into the engawa surrounding the outer parts of the mansion.

Rengoku.

Rengoku!

Tanjiro’s eyes burned. He was furious him with himself. Why couldn’t he do anything right? Rengoku didn’t want to see Tanjiro. Of course he didn’t. Tanjiro knew that. But even so, Tanjiro should’ve pushed more. He needed to push more.

If you’re going into this with halfhearted feelings and hopes of praise, it would have been better for him to die!

Tanjiro blinked away his upset and cut through one of the nearby rooms leading into the part of the building where Rengoku was. He knew he was close when Rengoku’s scent grew strong and thick.

He could smell the sickness in it.

Stupid stupid idiot Tanjiro.

He was panting by the time he made it there. He ignored the helpers standing outside speaking quietly and marched up to the door, throwing it wide open.

“Rengoku! I’m… I’m—” He was so out of breath he had to pause before speaking again. “I’m here to attune our bodies! I’m truly very sorry for this, but you don’t have any say in the matter!”

Tanjiro had squeezed his eyes shut against the weight of his own rude introduction. When there was no response, he opened his eyes and took in the scene before him.

Rengoku was asleep. His face was pale, and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. At the sound of his voice, Rengoku had rolled over, emitting a soft groan. Like a flower to the sun, his face tilted towards Tanjiro.

“Tanjiro,” one of the helpers greeted. Sumi, he recalled. “Thank goodness you’re here! The others were just looking for you. When Rengoku collapsed, we knew we couldn’t keep this going any longer…”

This close, the call to go to Rengoku’s side was intense. He fought against his every muscle in his body when he turned to look at Sumi.

“What you mean?” Tanjiro asked. His insides kept twisting, a sickening heat that built in his chest and stomach.

“It’s just… when we realized why Rengoku wasn’t getting better, Rengoku asked us not to mention anything to you about what was going on.”

“What…?” Tanjiro blinked. “Why? Why would he do that? Why would Rengoku…”

He trailed off. Hurt and anger swirled at the forefront of his mind. He was hurt because Rengoku felt the need to risk his health just to avoid Tanjiro. The anger was mostly with himself.

Tanjiro moved towards the foot of Rengoku’s bed. A force more powerful than any he’d ever felt urged him to move closer and sit at its edge, close enough that Tanjiro could touch him if he wanted to. He only held back because the girls were in the room with him.

“I think Rengoku didn’t want to burden you,” Sumi said eventually, her voice quiet.

“Burden?” Tanjiro echoed.

“Yes. You see, several Hashira came to visit.”

“I do remember that,” Tanjiro said. “What do the Hashira have to do with this?”

“It’s unusual because Hashira don’t usually visit each other after being injured. I think Rengoku was surprised they were doing that for him. They seemed interested in the bond that saved his life, and their attitudes weren’t, um, favorable towards you. I don’t know if that’s exactly what he was thinking, but that’s the sense I get.”

So that was why Tanjiro kept seeing and smelling the Hashiras. At this time he hadn’t given it much thought. The mansion was a common place for slayers to recover in.

“I see,” Tanjiro said. As she spoke, his anger had transformed, taking a different shape.

From the sounds of it, Hashira had exerted some kind of influence on the newly injured, newly bonded Rengoku. Rengoku wasn’t weak, neither of body nor mind, but he wasn’t usually this hurt and dealing with the consequences of being forcibly bound to another human being.

Tanjiro should have been there for him.

He always eats the food you send to him, Aoi had said.

Tanjiro grit his teeth. I’m so frustrated. Here I was, thinking I was doing something. I’m so naïve.

“Thank you for telling me, Sumi,” said. He smiled at her. “Would you mind leaving me with Rengoku? To help him heal, I need to be close with him, and I’d be a little embarrassed with an audience.”

“Oh!” Sumi’s cheeks went pink. “Right, of course! I’ll stand guard and turn away anyone who tries to come in.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

The moment she was gone, Tanjiro threw the covers off Rengoku and started stripping out of his pajamas. He left on his pants to save them both the inevitable embarrassment, and he didn’t undress Rengoku. Although he was about to scent him without permission, undressing him went too far—even if he thought he needed it.

Tanjiro didn’t know how he knew, but he knew this is what he needed to do. It was what they both needed.

Now bare chested, Tanjiro settled down in front of Rengoku lengthwise, scooting as close as he could. His mouth tingled at the thought of getting his lips and teeth on the bond mark. He held back, and working manually instead, Tanjiro rubbed his scent on the bond mark with his fingers. He did this several times, over and over, until he finally felt satisfied.

The whole time he did it, Tanjiro expected Rengoku to wake up. He had mentally prepared a speech in his mind, but other than snuffling in his sleep, he didn’t wake. It was somewhat worrying. If after all this Rengoku still wasn’t awake, Tanjiro would summon Lady Shinobu to examine him.

For now, he just hoped this was enough. That he was enough.

“Rengoku,” he whispered. He opened his mouth, inhaling, swallowing as much of his scent as he pleased. For once, no one was looking at him; no one could judge him for indulging.

Tanjiro inched closer, until he was able to sling one of his hands around Rengoku’s waist. Then he hooked one of his legs around the back of Rengoku’s. The closer they were, and the more skin he was able to touch, the better Tanjiro felt. The flames that burned on endlessly and the fog that had hung over him were slowly dissipating, bit by bit.

He pressed his nose into Rengoku’s collar, just above his nightshirt, and stayed there. Once he decided enough was enough, Tanjiro moved to Rengoku’s wrists. The scent glands there wafted invitingly at him. He lifted one on Rengoku’s hands and pressed his nose at the juncture of wrist and forearm, and then Tanjiro couldn’t help it; he pressed his mouth there, silently praying for forgiveness.

I just need to scent him like this. Just a little.

He breathed in, and breathed in, and breathed in, shivering in delight. After being deprived for so long, the urge to devour his scent was so overwhelming he thought he might cry. Tanjiro scraped his teeth overtop his scent gland, sending a fresh wave of Rengoku’s unique scent into his nose. A quiet moan left his mouth.

“What are you… doing?”

Rengoku’s voice broke Tanjiro out of his intense focus. He froze, realizing that while he had been scenting him, Rengoku had finally woken up.

“R-Rengoku,” Tanjiro stammered. Rengoku’s fascinating, brightly colored eye focused in on Tanjiro lazily. He looked exhausted, and he sounded tired, but he didn’t appear to be alarmed by what was happening. Other than give him space, Tanjiro didn’t completely pull away. “I’m sorry for waking you. You are probably very confused right now.”

“Yes, I am,” he slurred. A yawn broke through in the middle of his sentence. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“I’m… I’m scenting you. I’m very sorry about this, Rengoku. I didn’t want to do it this way, but you’ve been avoiding me. You collapsed!”

Rengoku’s eye slowly closed. “I suppose I have.”

“Why? Was it the Hashira? Did I do something to offend you?” he asked, his voice rising. “I know I’m just an alpha, but—”

A finger appeared in front of his lips, stopping him short. Rengoku’s brows were furrowed, the tense lines on his face deepening.

“Young Kamado, I have a terrible headache. Please keep your voice down.”

“I understand,” Tanjiro said, barely above a whisper. “Could you please answer my question?”

Rengoku sucked in a short breath and withdrew his hand. “Not exactly. Nothing you did was on purpose.”

Something like grief overcame Tanjiro. It was what he’d known all along, but it was the last thing he wanted to hear. He knew that being an alpha had caused others trouble throughout his life, but he’d always hoped that someday, when he found his mate, things would be different.

“I’m sorry,” Tanjiro said. “I’m very sorry. Rengoku, once we’re feeling better, we’ll find a way to fix this.”

“Tanjiro,” Rengoku said, and the sound of his given name was like a jolt of electricity laid into him from Zenitsu’s sword. “Who told you about the sweet potatoes?”

“Eh…ah, Lady Shinobu,” Tanjiro answered slowly.

“Kocho. I see. I see,” he repeated. Rengoku went silent after that, and Tanjiro realized shortly after he’d begun to doze.

“Rengoku?” Tanjiro inquired, prodding him with one finger. His eyes slid briefly open. He frowned in irritation, and a moment later he shivered and curled against Tanjiro’s chest. “R-Rengoku?”

Rengoku didn’t respond.

He really must have been exhausted, he thought. I’m sorry, Rengoku. How you must have suffered!

Gingerly, Tanjiro moved his arms out of the awkward position they’d been forced into, careful not to wake Rengoku again. He slid one arm around his waist and the other he brought up between them, pressing his palm against his heart.

Tanjiro closed his eyes and matched his breathing to Rengoku’s. In, out. In, out.

Rengoku wasn’t the only one exhausted. Tanjiro had been holding on as best he could, but lying there, warm, surrounded in the scent of his mate, he was lured into a similar state of half sleep. He let his eyes fall shut.

When he opened them again, the bond mark was in his line of sight, inches away. Its unique scent wafted enticingly over to Tanjiro. It hurt how it barely carried Tanjiro’s scent at all.

He swallowed as his mouth watered uncontrollably. Then he swallowed again.

His head moved forward on its own, and Tanjiro carried it to rest of the way. He pressed his nose into the space just below the bond mark. He moaned low in pure, blissful content. As he drifted over the marred skin, Rengoku’s scent began to gain in strength. That, or maybe it was just that Tanjiro kept breathing it in. He breathed in deep, deeper still, until his chest trembled and his scent became the center of his awareness.

His mouth drifted close to the edge of the bondmark. Eventually he brushed his lips overtop the skin there.

He let out another quiet, happy groan. His lips were tingling. Digging his fingers into the front of Rengoku’s nightshirt, Tanjiro tugged in a vain effort to pull Rengoku closer than he already was while he mouthed at the bondmark, spreading his scent with his lips and tongue until it was bathed in it.

Mine, he thought deliriously. Mine.

Realizing the direction his thoughts were taking, Tanjiro pulled away to try and breathe in the night air, but it was no use; Rengoku’s scent was all around him and inside him. He couldn’t escape it, and in all honesty—he didn’t want to.

Later Tanjiro could feel properly chastened. In that moment, all he wanted to do was be with his mate.

#a/b/o #omegaverse #demon slayer spoilers #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny spoilers #rentan #kyotan #rengoku #tanjiro #my fic #fic #tanjiro is 18

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muwi-translates · 4 years

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Collar x Malice キャラクターCD ミニドラマ「二人きりの湯煙譚」

Collar x Malice Okazaki Kei Character CD Mini Drama - A Hot Bath for the Two of Us

Spoiler free. Just a note that I used a Chinese translation as my main source, and did some light cross-referencing from the original audio. There might be some inaccuracies.

**Please don’t move this translation or claim it as your own.**

Since we’ve started dating, we’ve gone on countless dates. But usually they’re nothing more than spending a few hours with each other between work, and even if we get days off, we can only get together and laze around at home. She often says that it’s unhealthy for her. Even though it’s fun and soothing to just be able to spend time with her, it might be good to go on a proper date like lovers would.

Even I want to see her make all sorts of expressions, and I want to keep this girl that only I know all to myself. That’s why I went and asked Yoshinari-kun for advice without expecting much. And then--

---

Ah, come look at this! They’re real open-air baths! So we’ll be able to get in whenever we want when we stay in this inn~ Since we’re already here, won’t do we go in right now?

Yup, together.

Eh? Do you really not want to? It’s true that there are different types of baths in the public area, but aren’t men and women separated?

I want to bathe with you.

Haha, your face is all red. Oh, you really are so cute. When I see you all shy like this, it’s unbearable for me in every sense.

Ah, why did you move so far away? I’m sorry, is it because I said it in a weird way? Then I won’t say it in such a roundabout way. I’ll say it more directly-- [she covers his mouth]

You’re so mean. It’ll be too late to wait for your approval, plus I just wanted to express my own opinions.

I’ve been looking forward to a hot spring trip with you for soooo long. It’s my first time going on a two-person trip, so I can’t help it if I feel a little excited about it. Aren’t you the same?

That’s good. So you were also looking forward to it?

Right, it wasn’t easy to find time for a vacation, it would be too wasteful if you didn’t do things you normally don’t do.

So let’s go into the bath together?

[Grabs hand] Well, it’s useless if you want to run. It’s just the two of us, so it doesn’t really matter. Since we’ve come out on a trip, we should make some memories, right?

Ah… is it okay to? I suggested it but I didn’t expect you to agree so easily.

You want to make some special memories as well?

That makes me so happy. Thank you. Well, come over when you’re ready.

---

Ah! You’re finally here! I was just thinking about how lonely I felt just sitting here waiting for you. Come here quickly~ you’ll catch a cold. Okay, okay, I’ll behave and turn my back to you.

Are you ready? But, ah, we’re already lovers by now, so I’ve already seen a lot of you--[splash]

Sorry, sorry! Don’t get mad, hehe.

Haaa… it’s a little cramped but it’s comfortable. Besides, this is a turbid bath [1], so you wouldn’t be as embarrassed once you used it, right?

It’s good that you’re able to enjoy it.

But… why are you sitting so far away from me? I can’t see anything below your neck anyway so you can come closer to me.

Hm… if you won’t come over then I will. Hey, don’t run off. Are you really that embarrassed?

Look, you can’t escape anymore~

Hehe, it feels like I’m doing something bad. But you’re the one who decided to come here, right? I know I’m stubborn, but I’m really happy you’re willing to listen to my selfish requests. But if I tease you too much then it’ll be annoying, so I’ll be patient from now on.

Your hair looks really fresh done like that, it makes you look more mature than usual. You can only discover new things like this when you travel.

Eh? Don’t stare at me like that? That’s impossible, since you’re so cute~

It almost hurts to look at you.

Hey, can I touch you just a little?

No?

I’m not teasing you, it’s a sincere request. I won’t do anything strange… probably.

I won’t touch you then, how about you come and touch me? Here. You can touch anywhere you like.

You didn’t have to decline like that.

Aa~ah, I was so lonely being only one playing around. We're both busy at work, so it's hard to get a chance to travel like this, right? I feel like you’re farther away from me than usual when you’re relaxing at home. I don’t get enough of you at all.

Hm--!! Ouch… why did you pinch my cheeks?

Because I said you could touch me?

Haha, you listened to one of my selfish requests again.

I know, I’m sorry. The tension’s different when you’re staying at home and when you’re going out. Even if it’s the same for me, my heart starts pounding fast when I’m in a different environment than usual. I’m not lying, that’s why I’m excited. Even more than usual, I can’t keep down the feeling of how much I like you.

Hm? Your face is all red, are you okay?

It’s because I said something weird? Really? It was all stuff I actually feel though. That I like you, and how I think you’re so cute, and how much I want to touch you too.

Okay, okay! Calm down. If you get too rowdy then I’ll see everything~

[Laughs]

You’re all frozen up.

Alright, I won’t tease you anymore.

Being next you like this makes me feel warm but, at the same time I think this isn’t enough.

I want to be able to see your happy face, and I want you to worry about me sometimes. I don’t think you’ll be bothered too much by me though.

Don’t say it yourself? That’s true.

I’m glad I was able to take a bath with you. You wouldn’t do this with other people, right? It makes me happy knowing that this is just something special between you and me. Since I want you to spend more time with just me.

---

Haah, it’s getting warm, should we get out soon?

Yup, I’m turning around.

It’s dinner time soon, right? It looks like they’ll bring it up to our room, how about we play some playing card games-- what was that just now? Hey, are you okay?

Sorry, I know you said I can’t look, but this is an emergency so forgive me.

---

Ah, are you awake? That’s good. I think you soaked for too long. Are you feeling any dizziness or nausea? I brought some water back, do you want some?

Ah, don’t push yourself, I’ll help you.

I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I was the one who invited you in. I was so caught up in the mood that I didn’t notice your complexion. I’m such an idiot.

You know, from time to time, I think about how I won’t forgive anyone who hurts you, or how I said I’ll protect you from anything. But because of how much I want you and my own selfishness, am I going to be the one who’ll hurt you the most in the future?

Ouch-- “don’t decide that on your own”? It was your choice to stay with me?

You’re so… you’re too kind. Are you… mad?

Eh? You’re happy? Really?

But… I’ll reflect on myself properly.

I’m glad, that you can smile at me.

Hm? You didn’t bother me at all. I just carried you over here, wiped you down, put on your yukata-- Eh? “Did I see”? Ah… yeah, I couldn’t dry you without looking, ah, but I quickly dressed you, so I only saw a little.

I was only thinking about how I needed to save you then, so it’s not like I had time to think of any weird things.

It’s true! Haha, so this is what you’ll get mad at? So strange.

I know, I know, I’ll just pretend I didn’t see anything. Don’t get mad, okay?

Yes? Ah, it looks like dinner’s here. Are we eating now? Okay, I’ll let them prepare it.

Coming! I’ll open the door now.

---

Haaah, I’m so full… It looks like you’re feeling better, that’s good. But don’t push yourself. It’s still too early to sleep right now, why don’t we try karaoke or go to the games area?

What do I want to do?

You already listened to my selfish request in the bath, so we should do something you want to do.

Haha, rather than say I’m being patient, it’s better to say that I’m reflecting on myself. I always said that we should have a proper date like a normal couple. Once in a while that’s-- oh? This isn’t like me? But…

… You want to… snuggle with me? Really?

Mm, even if you didn’t say it I can see it on your face. But, how do I say it… I feel guilty. Not just for letting you get overheated, but I worry you’ll get kidnapped by bad guys.

Of course, that bad guy would be me.

I think you have bad taste in men.

Haha, we’re both bound to each other, huh?

Then I don’t have to hold back.

I’ve been wanting to hold you like this.

You’re always looking after me. If this keeps going on, then I’ll become even more selfish. I was only looking towards the end not that long ago. For that to change, and for me to want you so much now surprised me too. I think you already know but, my heart is pretty narrow-minded. You look so cute in your yukata, I don’t want anyone else to see. It wasn’t easy to come here, but I kept thinking of these things.

It’s because you’re mine. The only one who can keep you all to themselves is me. But, since this is a two person trip, if there’s anything you want to do, don’t just bear it and just tell me. What do you want to do? What do you want me to do for you?

You said it before? I want to hear it again.

I really do want to make your wishes come true. So what kind of snuggling do you want to do?

I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. I’m yours too, after all.

Alright, I should close my eyes, right?

Is this okay? Next is--

[Kiss]

You cut me off.

Hey, is this all? Should I keep my eyes closed? I really want to see your face right now. I bet you’re making a really cute face.

If we’re taking turns, then it’s my turn next. Or, is it yours again? Any is fine with me. I’ll listen to any of your requests.

You’ll give me the honours? Are you sure you really want to?

You really are a kind, sly person.

[Kiss]

Since I have permission now, I won’t hold back. What I want now is to be connected to you more and more deeply. Can I?

Thank you.

I love you.

I’ll show you exactly how much I love you. So, show me how much you do too.

Not just tonight, but from now on until forever, no matter how many times it’ll take.

---

Translator’s note: [1] turbid bath - mineral-rich water that has a milky look.

#otome #drama cd #otomate #collar x malice #collar x malice unlimited #cxm #mytranslations #okazaki kei

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writings-in-ebony · 4 years

Text

Extended Vacation - 2

Summary: You have to prove yourself to Steve’s friends and your journey finally begins!

Author’s note: Hello everyone! Why is Reader such a tease? Because SHE IS ABLE TO BE ONE! She’s a badass!

A reminder: Prompt was created by @sugarthicc and she gave me permission to write this.Thanks again!

Prompt: Have reader have a personality like Meg the Stallion.

Word Count:1872

Warnings: Bad language

Chapter 2

“Steve falls off his bike, what do you do?” The questions and scenarios were seemingly endless, but understandable. You were sitting in a chair, a rather uncomfortable one mind you, facing the suffocating intimidation of Bucky, Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to them, you were extremely prepared for this and any questions they threw at you. After Steve officially took you on as his assistant, you spent countless hours researching his friends, his enemies, and anything you felt like you had the right to know. You also made sure to study different scenarios and issues that might crop up during your journey. So, yeah, you were prepared for everything they threw at you. But the cold, killer expressions from Bucky and Natasha didn’t help in easing any nerves.

“I immediately pull over my car, survey traffic and proceed to help him off the road. If he sustained any injuries, I would go to my car and retrieve my first aid kit.”

“There is an attack on your hotel and the lights are shut off. All methods of contacting the outside are jammed or shut off. What do you do?” Bucky asked this questioned and leaned over the table, as if he was going to pounce you. As if he dared you to say something stupid. But you didn’t flinch because that’s what they wanted, you to break.

“I go get Steve in the next room,” you were cut off by Natasha’s hand slapping the table.

“What if he’s not in the next room? He’s in the pool, on the twentieth floor, while you are on the tenth.” She immediately made the situation more complicated.

“I would retrieve my phone since the pool is most likely open air if it’s on the twentieth floor. Quietly take the stairs since the elevators are down and make it to Steve as fast as I can.” You barely got out your last word before Sam was interjecting with his own additions.

“You get there, and Steve has a knife in his leg and a gun aimed at his head. What do you do?” Before you could answer, the door to the interrogation room slammed open and there stood both Steve and Tony. They aimed disapproving glares at the trio in front of you.

“You know when I said make sure the new girl feels “welcome”, I didn’t expect that “welcome” to be a full-blown interrogation session,” Tony ground out. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Sam beat him to the punch.

“We have to make sure that she is prepared for every situation. She is basically the only person in charge of America’s hero on this trip. Someone who just arrived only a month prior. Who has no knowledge of Steve and how- .” He stopped when he heard your chair abruptly scrape the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry to interject, Mr. Wilson. But I thoroughly researched and analyzed not only Mr. Rogers, but his enemies and his friends. Steven Grant Rogers has no physical health issues currently listed in his file. He suffers from insomnia, night terrors and nightmares, which I got by looking at his mental health notes and the inconsistent visitations to his psychiatrist. They usually occur on the weekdays but will definitely happen after a mission. He is not on any prescribed medications, primarily due to his metabolism, and his last panic attack was around three years ago.” You completely ignored the shocked expressions of Steve, Sam and Tony. Bucky kept his expression nonchalant and Natasha only raised an eyebrow. But you kept going.

“Mr. Rogers has fourteen major enemies whose whereabouts are currently not near any of the locations we will be visiting, but I talked with Mr. Fury about making sure that there’s security on standby in all our locations anyway. I also made sure that Jarvis is installed in all my devices so that he can monitor and track our locations and offer me any feedback and updates.”

“As for friends, Steve Rogers has a close connection with Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson, and Tony Stark. I noticed with the younger Avengers they look up to him as a father figure or brother. It depends. With his friends, Mr. Rogers naturally relaxes and lets out his true personality. I’ve observed that he’s sarcastic, sassy, and loves listening to conversation even if he, himself, cannot understand what the subject is or its context. In unknown or strange company however, Mr. Rogers displays shy or reserved behavior. Negative behaviors include stubbornness, irrational thinking, and the tendency to thrust himself into dangerous situations without thinking of his own health. But I can literally go on about what I found, but it’s fruitless. Ms. Romanov has already researched into me and read my file, anyway.” Tony and Sam looked dumbstruck as their gazes fell on Natasha. She didn’t even look at them, instead she aimed a smirk at you and you officially took that as a win.

“How did you know Natasha researched you?” Tony slowly asked.

“Oh! Jarvis makes a note of everyone who views the files and she and Ms. Potts already researched me and read up on me. I just wanted to check to see who read my file.” You let a small smile slip and Bucky scoffed.

“I like her,” he grumbled, obviously trying to hide a smile. “Well, if Natasha read your file and you still have both legs, I take it you fit the bill.”

“She does,” Natasha admitted.

“But why the interrogation?!” Sam looked at her as if she betrayed him.

“Because I had to scare her and see her reactions,” she shrugged. “She passed, but I’ve been watching her this entire month. She’s fine in my book.” You smiled warmly at her and she winked at you, proceeding to exit the room. Bucky and Sam followed also, but Sam was giving her an earful for her deception. Tony apologized for their behavior which you quickly dismissed and excused. He made his exit and that left you with a blotchy-faced Steve.

“Wow, you…uh…know so much about me. Like a lot,” he admitted. He was extremely uncomfortable, and you walked towards him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Steve, I just wanted to be prepared for my job. If I didn’t know everything that made you tick or could put you in harm, my job would be pointless and your friends wouldn’t even let me be in the same room as you, let alone accompany you on a cross-country trip. If you wanna know about me, I’ll send you my file immediately and you can read everything. I thought you would anyway.”

He bashfully looked at the ground, realizing that he should’ve done that. “I didn’t want to invade your privacy. I…uh…thought I could figure you out without a piece of paper telling me,” he sounded a little bitter and you understood where it was coming from.

“I didn’t get half of the things I just said from reading a piece of paper. This entire month was dedicated to me watching you from afar. I did my own character analysis, while asking others what they see you as. You might not like this, but you’re very transparent.” He visibly winced. “And as you’ll come to realize, I am very blunt. But just because I know about some of your secrets, does not reflect how I view you as a person. That very first day, when I called you a badass, was the truth and it still holds up. You’re a hero to America for a reason.” You lightly tapped his shoulder and walked away.

Steve should have known this trip was a bad idea. He should have known! He should have cancelled and claimed he had an illness. But no, that wouldn’t work because Captain America can’t get sick! He was being tormented and the tormenter was you! What could he do as you walked out of the convenience store, long legs bare and shorts riding up on your…? He couldn’t even bring himself to finish. He turned away and continued filling his bike with gas, face heating up and body reacting in ways he wishes it wouldn’t.

You were both stopped at a convenience store somewhere in Pennsylvania. It wasn’t too crowded, given there were already two cars filling up when you both pulled in. It wasn’t a small gas station, but it also wasn’t a large brand either.

Your car was already filled, since it didn’t burn that much gas, and you had decided to get some snacks and drinks for the road. And would he be lying if he said his eyes didn’t track the way you sauntered into the convenience store like you were a queen strolling past her subjects? What possessed you to wear those godforsaken shorts? And that deep V-neck t-shirt that gripped your thickness and put you on display? You were his assistant and here he was, drooling like a kid in a candy store.

“…something to drink,” Steve startled out of his stupor and turned to see you were raising a blue energy drink to his face.

“Huh?”

“I asked did you need something to drink. You look overheated, which is very uncharacteristic. Are you feeling okay?” She gazed up at Steve with big eyes, her lips parted and inviting.

“Thank you, yeah. I’m feeling okay, just a little hot and the wind…Yeah.” God, he sounded like a dumbass. Her eyes furrowed in even more confusion but looked pleased when Steve reached out and grabbed the drink. He really wanted his bike to hurry up and fill because he was running out of other things to stare at.

“So, you liking the trip so far? I know we’re only five hours into the trip, and we have two more hours before we get to Cleveland, but are you enjoying just riding?” She popped open the cap of her own drink.

“Yeah! It’s so…freeing? It’s like I can think about myself without thinking about others. It’s just me and the road. And I wanna thank you for allowing me to have that feeling,” he trailed off as he watched you drink. He fixated on your puckered lips around the top and actually flinched when you popped your lips and released a content sigh.

You turned back to him and smiled up at him, seemingly disregarding his creepy staring. “That’s good. But you know, I’m getting honked by angry citizens for your freedom.” She waggled a finger at him as if scolding him, but a humorous smirk was plastered on her face. He chuckled and heard the nozzle of the gas tank pop. Finally! He quickly removed the nozzle and screwed on the cap to the tank.

“Well, back to driving,” he beamed, swinging his leg over the bike. “You ready?” He looked at you expectantly and you threw him a thumbs up.

“Sure thing, Steve. And by the way,” she walked over to him and leaned down next to his face so that only he could hear. “You don’t have to be so bashful. It’s okay to stare. It’s actually very flattering.” And with that, she squeezed his bicep and sauntered back to her car.

#black!reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x poc!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #poc!reader #marvel fanfiction #extended vacation fic

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little-red-beret · 4 years

Text

Nene sighed as she shut the classroom door behind her. Class felt so slow these days; it was difficult to stay sane in the middle period where she had been in class for too long but still had so much to go. Lately, unnecessary trips to the bathroom had become the best strategy to clear her mind and come back refreshed. It would have been nice if she could visit Hanako in these trips, too, but his bathroom wasn’t that close to her class, and he tended to be a distraction, anyway. Even this was nice enough. Nene stretched her limbs as she wandered down the hall, lamenting the textbook exercises that would be awaiting her return.

As she got closer to the bathroom, Nene became aware of a rather alarming sound coming from inside. Someone was coughing quite a lot. Nene slowed down and softened her footsteps, nervously creeping towards the incident, afraid to interrupt whatever was happening. When she stepped inside, it became clear that someone was being sick, but... their retching sounded quite low for a girl. Nene cautiously walked along all the stalls, and stopped dead when she got to the last one. Surely she was hallucinating right now.

Stall door wide open, hunched over the toilet, was Minamoto Teru. It was unmistakably him. The student council armband, the tall, slender body, the neat gold hair. But this was the women’s bathroom. “M-Minamoto-senpai??” Nene blurted. There was no reaction. He only continued to convulse and retch. Nene looked around uncertainly. She dashed back to the door and poked her head outside, but the sign above the door definitely said she was in the right bathroom and Teru was not. No matter what the reason, something was clearly very wrong with him. Nene knew what she had to do.

She crept back to the stall and reached out. Her heart was racing. Was this overdoing it? Would he be uncomfortable? Before she could doubt herself any more, her fingertips touched Teru’s back. Again, there was no reaction. She planted her hand on it and began rubbing it lightly. His skin was hot beneath the fabric of his shirt. Up close, Nene could also see that his hair was damp. “Senpai... you’re really sick...” Nene fretted. He still said nothing.

After an agonising minute of awful sounds from Teru, he finally gave a weak belch and then sat panting over the toilet. Nene prayed she wasn’t bothering him by trying to soothe him.

“Ugh....” Teru moaned. “That was disgusting....”

“It’s okay, it happens!” Nene offered.

“Yashiro-san. This is nice, but.... should you be.... am I in the wrong bathroom?” Teru asked weakly.

“Um, yes...” Nene answered nervously.

“Ah, I’m sorry....” Teru murmured. “I really didn’t realise.... I thought....” He began to move, but Nene quickly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I-it’s okay, you can catch your breath for a bit! I’m not mad!”

Teru sank back to the floor immediately, sighing faintly. “I was so sure this was the men’s bathroom....”

“Did you realise you were sick when you woke up this morning?” Nene inquired. Teru shook his head.

“It was really sudden....”

“We should go to the infirmary...” Nene advised, staring at him in concern.

Teru shifted and leaned back against the wall. Finally, Yashiro could see his beautiful face, but it was flushed and shining with sweat, and his blue eyes were glazed over. More alarmingly, he had made a mess all down the front of his shirt.

“Minamoto-senpai, your clothes!” Nene cried. The poor thing! She would have felt so guilty letting him go to the infirmary in such an embarrassing state. It was around his mouth, too, so Nene started there. She grabbed a piece of toilet paper and carefully wiped at his face. Teru’s eyes drifted to hers. Nene quickly glanced away, her own face growing hot. Of all the people to find unwell, it just had to be this beautiful guy who would make her heart race the entire time. This would be difficult.

Nene flushed the toilet paper away and then turned her attention to his soiled shirt. She would use the small towel she always kept on her to clean his shirt just this one time.

“Um, would you like me to clean your shirt?” Nene offered shyly.

“Ah... yes, please....” Teru muttered. Then he loosened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. Nene froze, flying into a blind panic. Minamoto Teru was taking his shirt off right in front of her.

“Um!” Nene cried, flapping her hands around uselessly, unsure how to verbally convey ‘I think I’ll faint if I see you shirtless’.

She quickly glanced away as Teru began to shrug off the shirt. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic, she chantes in her head. Her face felt like it was on fire. She was at as much risk of overheating as he was. Then, he was holding out his shirt and tie. Nene took them without looking at Teru and dumped them in the sink. She rinsed only the parts that needed rinsing, so that it would dry faster, and then held the shirt and tie under the dryer for a while. When it was time to return the clean clothes to Teru, Nene promptly lost all the composure she had regained in the last five to ten minutes. She couldn’t believe she had to see him shirtless again. This was too much for her heart to bear.

“They’re as good as new!” Nene announced with a smile. Teru was unconscious on the bathroom floor, curled up beside the toilet. “Minamoto-senpai!” Nene quickly knelt beside him and poked his shoulder until he stirred. He moaned and stared up at Nene blearily.

“Ah.... thank you....” Teru took his clothes back from Nene and pulled them over himself like a blanket. Oh god, he was so cute. But he couldn’t stay here.

“Um! Senpai, we should probably get you to the infirmary now...” Nene pointed out nervously.

“It’s nice in here....” Teru murmured, eyes falling shut again. “The women’s bathroom smells so much nicer than the men’s....”

“If you go to the infirmary, you can sleep in a comfy bed!” Nene tried. Fortunately, it seemed to appeal to Teru. He sluggishly sat up, his shirt and tie falling off him to expose his stomach which was about as toned as Nene had imagined. This would seriously be the death of her. Nene’s heart skipped a beat, and her eyes darted to a spot on the wall beside Teru’s head, which she stared at intensely until he was fully dressed again. He hadn’t bothered tucking his shirt back in. It was strange to see him like this, dazed and dishevelled, sprawled in the girls’ bathroom. It was a side of the flawless student council president she had never seen before. Then again, he seemed really out of it right now, so of course he would be acting like this.

Teru’s second attempt at standing up went about as well as his first. It was as if his legs were made of jelly. Nene took his arm and draped it over her shoulder and pulled him to his feet. He towered over her, and the feeling of his body against hers made her stomach flutter. This was far too close for her. She needed to get him to the infirmary as soon as possible. Nene put an arm behind his slender back for extra support and carefully walked Teru out of the women’s bathroom.

Luckily, there was no one in the corridor right now to witness this strange occurrence. The walk to the infirmary was quite slow, and Teru had stopped speaking altogether. Nene wondered if she would have been able to coax him off the floor if she had left him there any longer. He was running out of energy too quickly.

When they reached the infirmary, Teru was panting slightly and his face was dripping with sweat.

“We made it!” Nene cheered, to which Teru nodded drowsily. Then, he flopped onto a bed and passed out immediately, snoring softly. Just like that, her work was done. She had saved Minamoto Teru from being discovered in the girls’ bathroom and looked after him when he couldn’t look after himself. It gave her an incredible sense of accomplishment to see him safe and fast asleep. After making sure the nurse attended to him, Nene got out of there as fast as she could. She was definitely too flustered. She loved Teru, but she wasn’t ready for that experience just now. His looks and personality were overwhelmingly dazzling in such a large dose. There was no way she could focus in class now. His face would just be flashing through her mind for the entire lesson.

The next day, Kou brought a letter to school from Teru, thanking her for helping him.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #sickfic #emeto #fever #minamoto teru #yashiro nene #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #tbhk #hanako #yugi amane #minamoto kou #vomiting #nausea #delirium #fainting #dizziness

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth Chapter 19: Informative

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Nineteen: Informative

Note: Sorry for any lingering mistakes. I wrote this entirely on my phone during a road trip with a friend so that it would be done on time. It’s just been one of those busy weeks, you know? Anyway, sorry for any mistakes. I tried my best to spell-check it, but still.

(-~-)

Deciding to leave when they did had been perhaps the smartest thing they could have done, given the circumstances. As if on cue, the weather had taken an abrupt turn for the worst, a thick fog rolling in from the north that threatened to obscure their vision and keep them trapped where they were. The chilly air that it brought with it wasn't so much unpleasant as it was unexpected as the day had been warm for the season up until then.

Leaving their father and uncle to sort out things on their own was a no-brainer this time around. Normally they would take steps to make sure that their father didn't murder Dante, but this time they just couldn't be bothered. Someone had to convince Lucia and Sirrus that they were not a family of savage idiots that only moved to harm one another. Though in Lucia's case, she had probably come to some conclusion in regards to that long before they had met her. She and Dante we're old friends after all.

As they opened the front door to the office and headed towards the van, V stopped for a moment. Despite its abnormal timing, the cool air was a welcome respite from the weather in Lucia's homeland this time of year. It had been humid and got there, quite literally the polar opposite of the kind of weather that he tended to gravitate towards. No, he liked it just like this. A cool breeze and some optional rain or fog. He'll, even some snow was preferable to the humid nightmare that was the more tropical corner of the world that they had just vacated. He didn't even have the right type of clothes for that sort of place, and much like his younger sibling, he didn't exactly tan. That was entirely enough for him.

Just as he stepped towards the lower part of the stairs, a hand reached out and tapped him in the shoulder, taking him entirely off guard. Turning to face whoever had just touched him, he couldn't help but allow his confusion to become evident on his face. It was rare that other members of the team touched him, and it was even rarer that his father so much as came near another person at all, let alone made physical contact with them. And no, using Yamato to impale or otherwise harm them didn't count. What strange Lovecraftian nightmare was this?

Turning to face him fully, V gave him a perplexed look, unsure as to what this could be about. He'd never really seen Vergil make… whatever the face was that he was making at the moment. He seemed almost amused, and that wasn't an emotion that he could honestly say he'd ever really been able to associate with his father. While he was aware that he did, in fact, possess a sense of humor, he couldn’t say that he fully understood it or was able to accurately guess what he might actually find entertaining. But he'd clearly done something that the older devil slayer found at least somewhat amusing, so that was a place to start.

"Did you need something?" V asked calmly, unsure as to how to take this sudden shift in his father's generally calm and somewhat cold persona. He was used to Vergil being more… predictable. And right now, he was anything but that. Despite the fact that he knew this didn’t pose a threat of any sort to him, he just couldn’t shake the strange, insidious feeling that he felt brewing in the very pit of his stomach. It was as if a knot that he couldn’t untangle had manifested within the very depths of his core, and he couldn’t place its location any more than he could understand its underlying cause.

Giving him an almost knowing look, Vergil glanced momentarily in Lucia's general direction, his eyes lingering on her for a moment as he seemed to quietly consider something. V had to turn in her direction to see that his father was even looking at her in the first place since his back was to the van and he was facing the large office doors that Vergil had decided to lean against. After a moment, the Darkslayer crossed his arms, looking at his son with a slightly more serious look than he had possessed a moment ago. It seemed that whatever he’d been thinking, he was about to actually express in words.

"... I've noticed that you seem to have feelings for that girl. Dante's friend. Were you planning to act upon them, or simply pine fruitlessly from a safe distance." Vergil inquired calmly, his slightly humored demeanor resurfacing slightly as he seemed to make a consorted effort to actually hide it. He clearly found something about this very entertaining, but he wasn't going to say as much. At least not at the moment.

V's entire mental process instantly stalled like an overheating car engine. He genuinely regretted the fact that he had not just taken the opportunity to leave and head to the van with the others when he had the chance. Were they actually having this conversation right now? Because it sure as hell seemed like they were. And did this even count as a conversation? Normally it required at least two people for a conversation to take place, and he couldn't will himself to speak a single word. Vergil took that opportunity to continue.

"Because if that was indeed your plan of action, I feel somewhat inclined to point out that it would get you nowhere. Inaction normally has that effect. I would be remiss to not take the opportunity to remind you of that, regardless of the fact that you are intelligent enough to have figured that out for yourself by now." He continued nonchalantly, either not noticing the slightly wide eyes, pupal dilated, utterly flabbergasted expression, or shear and unadulterated horror on his eldest son's normally neutral face or genuinely not caring. Either way, that wasn’t going to stop him from making his opinion on the matter known, regardless of how much he was sure his son probably wanted it to.

The young white-haired summoner attempted to force his brain to conjure up some meaningful response to what would otherwise be a simple inquire for his father, but the mixture of confusion and horror that he found himself in was entirely too strong to allow for that level of cognitive function. How had his father even noticed that? Was it that obvious? Was he actually that bad at hiding his thoughts? In truth, he wasn't entirely sure as to whether or not his absentminded meandering in regards to Lucia was the result of the fact that he found her undeniably lovely, or something more than that, but the fact that Vergil could tell that he felt anything towards her at all was admittedly startling to him. What if Lucia had noticed as well. He didn't want her getting any sort of incorrect notions as to his intentions, especially when he didn't fully understand what his intentions were in the first place.

"Wh… why would you ask me something like that?" V asked breathlessly, unsure as to what else he could even say about the matter. This entire situation was highly irregular. Or was it? Did fathers normally question their sons about matters that pertained to their love life, especially when those sons were adults? Truthfully, V didn't have any prior knowledge as to the legitimacy of that fact. He'd never had any friends to ask or even see this happen to, and it had never been a thought that had crossed his mind. But one thing that he did know was that this was an exceedingly uncomfortable topic of conversation, and every second that he took part in it, willing or unwilling (and it was most certainly unwilling), he could feel himself die inside, aging little by little until he lost all cognitive function and simply ceased to exist any longer.

Seemingly slightly confused as to his son's reaction, Vergil folded his arms and blinked slowly for a moment. Yes, it seemed that V absolutely had no idea what he was getting at, did he? The eldest Son of Sparda liked to think that he had a pretty good line in gauging others’ reactions and body language in regards to trying to find out if they were being truthful or deceptive, and he couldn’t say that he thought that his son was lying. If anything, he seemed genuinely shocked that he had asked him a question of this sort, and Vergil was both further amused and slightly confused by his son's intense mental backpedaling. Was this topic of conversation really that horrifying to him? Because that would explain quite a bit about V's overall reaction to it.

"Perhaps because I noticed that you invited her to your home. And your total inability to stop looking at her with that lost expression or your face or so much as form a complete sentence in her presence. There are several factors at play here. Do not insult my intelligence. I am not blind." Vergil paused for a moment, noticing the fact that V seemed both physically and mentally exhausted by the very concept of having this conversation. Was his oldest child absorbing even a monochrome of the wisdom that he was trying to impart upon him? "And I am willing to imagine that she is not blind, either. It would be a miracle if she hadn't at least clued into your affections for her by this point. It might be best to simply tell her. If you can get your brain to function in her presence for that long, that is. And I have my doubts."

If he had been a slight bit less physically sick from the conversation that he was taking part in at that moment, he probably would have been somewhat insulted by that comment. But instead, he just nodded involuntarily, his subconscious eager to produce some sort of meaningful reaction to his father's advice. He wasn't really sure if it had achieved the desired result, or simply served to make him look even less intelligent than he was willing to assume he probably looked at the moment, but he couldn't make himself dwell on that long enough to care, even though he knew that he should.

"Thank you?" V said in an unsure tone, entirely unsure as to what he was supposed to say in this situation. All he knew was that he wanted to get out of this situation as quickly as possible, and that the others were waiting for him in the van. His absence was probably starting to seem slightly suspicious, and the last thing he wanted to do was have to explain why his father had held him up for this long. "We are absolutely not having this conversation right now, father. We have to go, and I am holding up the others. I must go before they began to question what is taking me so long."

As he glanced towards the van, he felt the need to add something before. "By the way… please don't say anything to her on my behalf until I figure out how to produce. I beag of you. I need time to think, and I would probably die from pure mortification alone."

Vergil looked somewhat frustrated by that statement. "That is not biologically possible. Dying from embarrassment isn't something that you can physically do. And you tend to take longer than they do to arrive at a destination as it currently stands regardless, V. But very well." Vergil cringed internally as he saw the somewhat questioning look on V's face. Sometimes his eloquent thoughts did not translate well to actual spoken dialogue, especially in regards to situations where he wasn't actually trying to sound like a petulant unfeeling cold bastard. And yet, here he was, doing just that yet again. Was this an involuntary action on his part?

The younger man stared at him for a momnet, almost physically combing through his thoughts as he tried to come up with a satisfactory reassessment of himself. Did he actually walk that slow? He liked to think that he didn't. While he was aware that he did in fact walk at a speed that was lacking when compared to the rest of his compartiots, he didn't think that it was that slow. Did the others notice and simply not point it out to him out of a sense of politeness, and his father was the only one who actually had the never to point it out to him? Because now that he thought about it, that was entirely possible. They were all generally quite kind to him, even when making fun of him as Nico liked to do from time to time. But Vergil didn't possess such qualms.

"Disregard my former statement. It was not entirely factual." Vergil sighed, turning to look back through the door that he was behind before looking forwards again. "I would advise you to seek Nero's consol in regards to these sorts of matters. You’re clearly not going to take in anything meaningful that I am trying to imprint upon you, and he has at least made it a bit farther in that regard than you have at present. I may simply be out of touch. According to Dante, I'm "old."

For a moment, V stared at his father. A sympathetic look crossed his face as he considered the ramifications of that statement, and the strange sorrow in his father's tone of voice as he spoke those words. He couldn't be entirely sure as to why, but it seemed that his father genuinely didn't like being considered older. Perhaps it was simply a result of the narrative that he might be out of touch, or something as profound as being a personification of the deep regret that he probably felt in regards to the things that he could no longer experience. His youth was indeed gone, along with the opportunities unique to it, but somehow he knew that this wasn't about that. The younger man had literally no way to know for sure without asking his father, and that was off the table at the moment. But what he did know was that he might be able to say or do something, anything to help.

Reaching out with a mixture of reluctance and uncertainty, V placed his hand on Vergil's shoulder. He admittedly expected him to pull away it react in anger in some way, but he decided to take the risk regardless. After all, he was unlikely to physically harm him over the gesture, and he was used to being rejected in regards to this sort of thing. But to his surprise, all his father did was give him a curious look, allowing his gaze to wander up to his arm, following the thin limb up to his fingers until he seemed to mentally register that V had indeed just voluntarily touched him. He then looked back at V quietly, seemingly unsure of what to really say about the matter at hand.

"... You’re not old. At least I don't think so. I'd like to imagine you still have quite a bit of life left in you. It’s a mindset more than it is a physical condition, at least as far as I am concend. But it’s not my place to say that. You can believe whatever it is that you want to believe. You've earned that right a few times over by this point." He turned back towards the van, taking a reluctant step down the first step as he released his father’s shoulder and allowed the limp appendage to fall back toward his side. "I have to leave now. If you are both still alive come morning, please make your way over. It may be easier to make whatever preparation you wish to make in a place with power. And running water, for that matter. Something tells me that you might not have that, either. Dante seems to fail to pay his utility bills in batches. But until then, have a good night. And please… never bring this topic of conversation up again."

While he understood why his father had done so, he was somewhat sure that he rather die than allow his father to give him "the talk". It was a horrifying concept that literally aged him to the point where he lost years of his life, and he never wanted to revisit it again. He had no idea what had possessed his normally quiet father to make him even r=bring this up instead of watching in the background like he would like to assume he did, but he hoped that whatever that force of nature was, it left and never returned. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy speaking to his father, it was that this was far from the topics of conversation that he felt comfortable discussing with literally anyone else aside from the person they were directed towards, and even the, that was a stretch.

Vergil nodded in regards to his son's words. While he was not sure yet if he would humor his request or press the issue, he would leave it alone. He allowed his hand to drift almost absentmindedly to the place where his son's hand had been only a minute ago, letting it linger there momentarily as he watched the van pull off down the street and around the corner, disappearing from sight. He was now starting to wonder if he had been somewhat mistaken in regards to which of his sons was actually the intelligent one. Or perhaps they were just equally unintelligent in regards to romance. But he had to assume that there was a certain charm to that, even it if was somewhat pathetic in nature. But that was enough of that for now. He had tried.

Now to see to maters with Dante. And he had a feeling that there would be a reckoning store for him.

(-~-)

Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of V dying inside because his dad just tried to bring up his love life in a conversation with him. Poor thing! And we thought that Dante not having power was bad… see you all next week on Wednesday! I hope you liked this chapter! Bye bye!

#Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #V #Vitale #Vergil #Hiraeth #DMC #DMCV #DMC5 #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #V DMC #V DMCV

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jasonsonebraincell · 4 years

Note

Hey this is my first ask with MHA so I hope this is okay! Again thanks anyway no pressure!! Bakgou or todoroki with a delicate S/O physically, basically their really frail and weak and get hurt to easily basically a huge push-over. How would they be in this relationship (NSFW MAYBE???) AGAIN NO RUSH DO WHAT YOU LOVE!

I don’t do NSFW writing, I am sorry! Thank you for the ask and I will try to answer this the best I can! I love both of these characters they’ve had so much development and I’m proud!

- Katsuki wasn’t one to ever try and date someone who was weak, but you really made him fall head over heels for you.

- It all started when one day he saved you during a villains attack on the city, you were almost crushed my a Nomu but he intervened and moved you to a safe place before lecturing you.

- “Why didn’t you run?!”

- You explained you couldn’t run, or do much of any physical activity or your body would give out. Boy, that made Katsuki feel like a No.1 hero- more like a No.1 jerk.

- Since he was worried about your safety, he stayed with you until the target was captured. He was a hero after all, and it was his job to protect you.

- Cue the hug. That’s what did him in, the hug. You just decided to hug him and say, “Thank you.” which sent bomb boy into orbit. Hugs? He didn’t do hugs, but he didn’t want to shove you away.

- That day Katsuki decided he would keep up with you, sort of popping up where you were and eventually asking you if you “wanna go eat or something.” trying to play it off like it was nothing.

- You two eventually become a couple somehow, it was strange- he never asked if you two were official and neither did you…it just sort of became a thing.

- He knew you wanted to play sports and do things, but it made him a nervous wreck. You tried tennis, but passed out at your first match and he almost burned down the entire court.

- Eventually he decides if you want to play a sport, to ask him. He hates to play sports but he will play one-on-one basketball and let you win because he cares more about your physical health.

- He was scared to hug you, hold your hand, or even high five you because if he did something too hard you’d bruise which made him feel guilty. But he slowly learns how to adapt to your condition. And he ends up being the best boyfriend ever. (well- he tries.)

- The relationship started when he saw you running a lap around the track one day and you fell, and nobody else was around so this poor boy panicked and ran to check on you.

- “Are you alright?”

- Turns out you had just overheated so he used his cold side to try and get you to cool down quickly, so you wouldn’t have a heat stroke. Afterwards, he helped you walk to get a drink of water.

- The more he looks at you, the more he begins to think you’re really pretty. Him being the awkward boy he is blurts out, “Would you want to get some lunch with me?” he sounds like he’s choking when he says it. You say yes.

- When you two become a couple, he’s hesitant to hug you or hold your hand because he’s worried he might accidentally hurt you. You eventually convince him it’s alright and he only locks pinkies with you.

- When you do things like exercise, ride a bike, or any physical activity he watches on stand-by.

- When you bruise, he’s your personal on-deck ice pack. He’s always there when you fall to provide a chilly comfort to whatever bump, scrape, wound you might have.

- He’s a worry wart, but he’s a good boyfriend over all.

Thank you for the ask! I really enjoyed it, don’t be shy to ask more!

#mha todoroki #todoroki shōto #shoto torodoki #bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader

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blueluneacy · 5 years

Text

Study Sessions

Okay folks, here it is, prime Jotaro. Let’s see if I am kicked off this site.

I wrote it basically as jotaro is your TA in a bio class since he got his doctorate so theoretically he had to be a TA for a while since they basically force you to do that bc free labor. Anyways, here it is

this is the gud shit, the horny shit, the not sfw shit

Also on AO3!

You thought you weren’t doing half bad until you got that quiz back. You had studied fairly hard, went to all the review sessions, but still… You weren’t expecting to get what you did.

A C. It wasn’t failing, don’t get it wrong but… You could’ve sworn you were doing better. In the range of B, B+. It was a bit disappointing. You tried to focus on what your teacher was saying during discussion, but still it… Bugged you. Jotaro Kujo… He was a graduate student going for his doctorate in Marine Biology, forced to be a teacher’s assistant for this low grade biology course while he worked on his thesis. You didn’t really care, if he wasn’t such a dick. You just needed this course for your major, and then you could move on from it all. But, still. This just felt ridiculous to you. You sat, listening to some explanation about cellular respiration, and not really caring about it at all.

“Ah, that’s time. Remember that lab got moved to tomorrow an hour later. If you can’t make it, see me.” Hearing him speak brought you out of your trance, and you slowly packed up your things, making a mental note to ask a friend about what he said in the last 15 minutes of his lecture. You waited for everyone to leave, and just… Looked at him. You weren’t sure how to even start the conversation. You just stared at him. Eventually, he caught on, not even looking up from some book he was reading.

“What is it? Do you have a scheduling conflict?” He asked, and you just swallowed.

“Um… No, I wanted to… To ask you about my quiz?” You mumbled, and he raised an eyebrow. “What about it?” His voice was so cold, you felt yourself recoil a bit.

“Um, well… I don’t understand why you graded my written answers the way you did. I went and answered them correctly, didn’t I?” You questioned, and he just sighed.

“If you have a problem with how I graded it, you can see me during office hours and we can go over it together.” That line just made you mad. He was pushing you off, you know he was. You grit your teeth and crossed your arms.

“Just because you don’t want to do your job doesn’t mean I should have to suffer.” You said, and almost immediately regretted it. He just looked at you, shaking his head.

“Good grief… Fine then. But I can’t stay and go over this now. What time would you like to meet? If you want it today, then I’ll be in my office working around eight tonight. Is that fine?” He asked, and you paused for a second. Wait, you were actually getting what you wanted? First time for everything. You nodded and did your best to smile.

“Yeah that sounds great! Thank you so much, I’ll see you tonight!” You left the classroom, feeling proud of yourself. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

When the evening came, you showed up early just to show how dedicated to class you were. You smiled, waiting by the door of the TA offices, just hoping you weren’t looking like a fool. Jotaro didn’t open the door for you until 8:10. When you saw him, you nearly fell over.

“You’re not… Wearing your jacket.” You mentioned quietly. Jotaro tended to wear a long white jacket, so it was strange to even see his arms. You never noticed how muscular he was under it. He was certainly handsome, but you were sure pursuing any sort of relationship with your teacher would get you in loads of trouble. Not that you ever thought he would look at you in that way.

“I’m not. They just turned the heat on after 3 cold nights, and now it’s boiling in here.” He replied, turning and walking back in, expecting you to follow. You did, you had no other choice if you were to get what you wanted. He was right, it was hot in here. You regretted not wearing something lighter.

You noticed how empty the room was. It was full of different desks where all the graduate students turned teachers did their work. But, he didn’t lead you to his own desk, instead to a small table in a corner.

“This will work fine. Have a seat and take out the quiz.” He told you, and you sat down, expecting Jotaro to sit across from you. You were mistaken. Instead, he sat right next to you, pulling his chair close. You squeaked and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Good grief… I can’t read the damn paper upside down. Do you want me to look at this or not?” He said. You swallowed and nodded.

“Alright, so um, the multiple choice is no problem, after all, it was pretty straightforward and I think I did pretty well, but in the written questions,” You showed him the test and turned the page to your written responses. You felt Jotaro lean closer to take a look. You swallowed. You could feel his body heat emanating, and you were thankful you were in a sweater to try and keep from touching his skin. However, the price was that you were broiling, not sure if it was from the heat or from Jotaro.

“I, um, didn’t understand where I went wrong. I’m not saying you’re wrong or anything, I just don’t understand.” You told him, and he thought for a moment, reading over your response.

“Hmm. I thought your elaboration was poor. Your explanations were basic, giving almost no detail.” He told you, pointing to a question.

“See, here, I asked you to talk about rRNA transcription and translation, and you just gave me the steps of it with no examples.” You grit your teeth, crossing your arms. “You didn’t ask for examples.” You told him.

“I told you to explain it.”

“And I did.”

“Everyone else gave an example.” You were starting to lose your temper.

“Really? Everyone else, including the people that failed, gave you an example of a protein being translated and transcribed in the human body on their 5 lines that we had to write out the answer to this question. Is that what you’re telling me?” You asked, rolling your eyes and standing up.

“When you explain something, doesn’t it make the most sense to give an example?” He asked, and you just shook your head.

“You’re hopeless. This makes no sense at all.” You crossed your arms, and he just sighed.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this in the first place. You’re right on average with the rest of the class. This quiz is getting curved anyway, so you’ll have your B in the gradebook.” He told you, and you grit your teeth. You didn’t know that, since you were so upset you weren’t paying attention. But, you were angry, so you were gonna go off.

“It’s the principle of the matter. What if we aren’t curved next time, huh? How am I supposed to read your mind? I’m just supposed to guess what you want from me?” You asked, crossing your arms. He just sighed and waved you to sit back down.

“Good grief. Let’s just go through the rest of the questions then. You can vent all your concerns, if your haven’t overheated yet.” He said, and you froze. You didn’t realize how much your face had flushed. You knew that when you were angry, you ran hot, but still…

“I… I’m fine. I don’t think we need to go over anything else. It is what it is.” You went to take your test, but Jotaro just pulled it away.

“So this was all just a waste of time?” He asked, looking you in the eye. His expression was still so cold, it sent a shiver down your spine. He noticed it.

“What was that?” He asked, and you immediately went into panic mode.

“Nothing! Yep, it was just silly me, not understanding something, and you explained it, so um, if you’ll just let me-” You tried to grab the quiz from his hand again, only for him to grab your wrist.

“You’re lying to me. What’s going on, you look awful.” He said, and you just swallowed, trying to pull away. He wouldn’t let go.

“I’m really fine. It’s just that you’re, I mean, it’s just hot in here. I must just not be feeling well because of it.” You told him.

“Then I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” He said, going for his jacket, but you squeaked out. God, this was getting embarrassing too quickly.

“N-No, it’s really fine, I should get going so you can-”

“If you’re overheating, you could pass out on the way back. It’s dangerous.” He told you, and you just stammered a bit as you tried to pull away, but with a simple tug of your arm, he was able to pull you closer, keeping you from running. You stumbled right into him, knocking him back until both of you were on the ground. You squeaked, pulling yourself up and looking down on him. You didn’t realize how you were straddling him at the time, just the both of you staring at each other.

“O-Oh my god, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I mean, I didn’t realize-” You tried to pull yourself off of him, when you felt him… Caress your cheek. You froze for a moment, looking right at him.

“You… don’t seem to have a fever. At least we can rule out any sort of illness.” He said, suddenly turning his head to look away from you. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“God! Even now, you’re still so stoic. I shouldn’t be surprised.” You moved to pull yourself up once again, when you leg brushed up against it, and you flinched. You swallowed, and Jotaro just grit his teeth and looked away. Well then. You apparently had given Jotaro Kujo a hard on from all this. And you immediately turned pale. You pushed yourself up from him and grabbed your test, already running to make your exit.

“Um, well, thank you, and uh, I’ll see you at the la-” You were cut off when you felt him grab your wrist once again, trying to keep you from leaving. Before you could protest, not wanting to give yourself any more shame, he leaned forward and slammed his lips against yours. You gasped, and Jotaro took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, stealing your breath away. You stepped back, but every time you did, Jotaro simply stepped forward, until you were against a wall. When he finally pulled away, you were almost nervous, seeing an expression on Jotaro’s face you never could have imagined could exist. One of pure and unbridled lust.

“Jotaro, we… This has to be against some rule, we can’t…” You told him, and his just sighed, leaning into your neck.

“No one has to know… Do you really not want to?” He asked, taking a deep breath in, and you felt yourself shudder once again.

“It… It’s not that I don’t want to… Hell, I really want to, but it’s a matter of should we rather than could we. You know?” You told him, and he just sighed.

“We could make it our little secret.” He replied to you, and you just sighed, relenting a bit.

“You promise no one will know?”

“I have no one to tell.” He replied with a shrug. Finally, after a moment of thought, you nodded. You could’ve sworn you saw a smirk on his face, but before you could really take true note of it, he was leaning back in to try and tear your clothing off. You gasped, trying to help take off his own, but he was too busy covering you with ravenous kisses to really let you. You let your hands finally feel up his waist, gripping him tightly whenever he nipped at your neck or found a sweet spot to tease. Whenever you did, however, it only seemed to encourage him to toy with that spot even more, until you suddenly let out a mewl. You gasped and let go of Jotaro to try and cover your mouth, but he just shook his head.

“Don’t. Let me hear it.” His voice was soft, but commanding, dominant. You didn’t hesitate to listen, letting yourself moan more freely.

“W-Will… Will anyone hear?” You asked as he started to travel lower, pulling at the hem of your pants.

“Everyone should be gone by now. I stay late so no one bothers me.” He told you, and you let out a sigh of relief. It was cut off by Jotaro reaching in your pants to see if you were ready. You most definitely were, and you let out a moan as he touched you, squirming against him.

“J-Jotaro, please…” You begged, and he actually… Laughed a little.

“What is it?” His voice was so smooth, you felt like you could just let yourself melt into it, completely relax into his presence.

“Stop fucking around with me and just fuck me already.” You told him, and he shook his head.

“Good grief… If that’s what you want.” He let you go from the wall, only to pull you over to the table again, leaning you onto your back. He pulled away and you watched as he undid his belt and pulled off his pants, revealing himself. You gasped as you saw how massive he was.

“I… Do you really think that’ll fit?” You asked, a bit nervous, but he just leaned closer, starting to grind against you.

“We’ll just have to test it out then.” He told you, burying his face into your neck once again as he began to inch himself inside of you. You cried out, both at the pain of the stretch and the pleasure it was bringing you. You felt Jotaro sigh as he inched himself inside of you until he was completely sheathed. He sat like that for a bit, giving you time for your body to adjust, for the painful throb to finally subside. And then, when he finally thought you were ready, he began to move.

You moaned as you felt Jotaro start to move, your arms wrapping around him as he thrust into you at a merciless pace. He groaned quietly into your neck, panting as he moved, occasionally biting into the same spot of your neck. You were certain you would have a bruise there tomorrow. And yet, you continued to moan, to the point where tears were streaming down your face.

“Is this good? Do you like this?” He asked, his husky voice enough to get you drooling.

“Y-Yes, Jotaro! It feels so good!” You told him, and he grunted, giving a particularly hard thrust that made you squeal. “Fuck… Good. What a good student I have.” You could tell by his town that he was meant to be teasing you, but it caused you to squeeze against him a little tighter. You couldn’t help it, it was kind of hot to hear him praise you like that. Unfortunately, he seemed to catch on.

“You like when I say that? When I call you my good little student?” He asked, and you whined, trying to claw into his back at this point. You could feel your body start to teeter towards the edge at this point.

“Y-Yes, I like it! Please, Jotaro, I’m so close!” You cried out, and he just chuckled before beginning to slam into you even harder. He was going to make sure you couldn’t walk right for a week.

“Then cum. Show me how good I make you feel.” He commanded, and you couldn’t help but give in. You moaned his name loudly, his word making you fall over the edge. You felt your entire body spasm from the ordeal, waves of pleasure coming over you. You heard Jotaro let out a small curse from under his breath, and pull out just in time to cum on your chest. The two of you were just panting, still in euphoria from the bliss that the two of you had felt together. You sat up slowly, and Jotaro leaned in to give you a kiss. It was certainly mouthy, no doubt, but it felt much more meaningful than the one that started this whole mess.

And then, he pulled away, refusing to make eye contact with you.

“Well… I guess I was wrong. You seem to be in good health.” He told you, and you nodded slowly. This was just a one time thing, after all. You both would probably never speak of it again. You began to clean yourself up, while Jotaro walked over to his desk and packed a few things up. You tried your best to look presentable, hoping that your roommate wouldn’t comment about how you probably reek of sex.

And then, the both of you left the room, Jotaro locking the door behind the both of you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in lab then. Make sure to have the prelab assignment done.” He told you, and then he left. You walked in the opposite direction, hoping to go home and rest for a bit. Your body ached, surely no doubt protesting your decision to move so soon, but still, it was time to go home. To forget this all happened, and hope he forgot too. The true walk of shame was going to be in tomorrow’s lab, after all.

There was however, a small hope in your heart, that you tried to push down. To hope such a thing would only leave you sad, only hurt you. And yet, there it was.

The hope that this could happen again.

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro/reader #jotaro kujo/reader #jjba/reader #jjba x reader #writing #not sfw

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kinkstuffig · 4 years

Text

Try Guys Sandwich

Keith had nearly finished his assignment for the video was to eat every item from taco bell. Obviously, he didn't eat all of each item, only a bite. Even so, his stomach was bloated and churning. He reeked of sweat, sauce, and beans. When he had signed up to work for Buzzfeed, this was not what he had expected.

At first, Keith had tried to hold in the gaseous emissions. This had resulted in him overheating and getting cramps. When the others realized this was the cause of his discomfort, Zach and Ned assured him that they were good enough friends and mature enough to sit with him in a room while he ate an immense amount of beans. After that, it was smooth sailing with Eugene filming, Zach encouraging Keith, and NEd being on cleanup duty.

Keith swallowed his last bite and burped. “I’m so glad this is over. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat that much,” Zach remarked, gazing at Keith with slight astonishment.

“Oh, I have.” Keith thought back to those lonely nights in highschool and college but quickly recovered.

“What are we going to do with all this leftover food?” Zach asked, as Ned began wiping down the table.

“Each of us could take some,” Ned suggested. Zach was ok with this idea until he realized that some of the ingredients would interfere with his medication. Ned remembered that Mexican food made his wife nauseous. Keith was too full to think coherently. They all turned to Eugene.

Throughout the filming, he had been unusually quiet, only commenting when necessary. “I… uh… I’m going vegan for a video. Sorry.” He walked quickly out of the room.

“Did anyone else think that was weird?” Zach asked. Keith moaned and all attention returned to him.

“This was such a bad idea,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Fuck.” Ned turned to Zach. “I think we maxed him out.”

Zach bit his lip, worried. “He has to go back to his desk till the end of the work day.” Ned left the room to find Keith some sweatpants.

Zach knew how to help a bit. He’d been with Keith on some of his milder bad nights. Gently he unzipped Keith’s jeans and pulled them off, which was a struggle. Keith’s belly, given more freedom, expanded, until it looked like Keith had swallowed a pumpkin. Pulling the fabric of Keith’s T-shirt up over the globe of his belly. Zach brushed his finger against the taut skin. Keith moaned again, from pain or pleasure he wasn’t sure. Lightly, Zach ran his hands over the bulging belly, massaging out cramps as much as he could. Eventually, his fingers reached the edge of Keith’s boxers. They slid under the waistband, pressing into hairy flesh.

The door opened and Ned returned with the sweatpants. Zach flushed and stood up quickly but ned hadn’t seen anything. They helped Keith into the sweatpants and then took him to a filming room that was being unused. They laid him down on the couch, hoping his stomach wouldn’t take too long to settle. As they were leaving, Keith winked at Zach, being his true food-drunk self.

Eugene paced back and forth in the men’s room. Do not throw up, do not throw up, do not throw up. Suddenly, he dove for a toilet, spewing pink tinged vomit into the white bowl. Arms wrapped around his middle, he hoped nobody would see him. His stomach ached and his throat burned. Fairly sure he was finished, he flushed the toilet and pulled himself to his feet. Rinsing his mouth at the sink, he splashed water on his face. He wasn’t dizzy at all. His swaying reflection laughed at him.

Eugene stepped out of the bathroom and returned to where they had been filming to retrieve the camera. Ned looked up from the tupperware he was packing the leftovers into. “Dude, are you feeling alright? You look really pale.”

“Mmm.” Eugene rubbed his face and reached for the camera before he realized this required and answer. “Totally. Yeah, I’m fine.” Ned remained skeptical but Eugene had already left.

The Try Guys eventually all returned to their desks. Ned looked fondly at the picture of his wife that he had as his phone’s background. Keith rubbed his stomach, trying to pay attention to the files he was working on and less to the nausea building inside him. Zach watched Keith, while trying to look like he wasn't watching Keith. Eugene took some aspirin. His head was pounding and staring at a screen while he edited footage wasn’t doing him any favors either.

3 Days Later

Keith, Ned, and Zach had definitely noticed something. Eugene wasn’t known for pouring out his feelings or being sweet and fluffy, but at least he was an extrovert at least 30% of the time. He’d been acting weird lately. He barely spoke to anyone in the office and there were bags under his eyes. He hadn’t eaten lunch with them for at least a week. Even in videos there was a difference, though less detectable.

It was Saturday and the boys were going out for drinks. Eugene arrived at the designated meeting place (Ned’s house) 20 minutes late with messy hair and a few keyboard imprints on his cheek. This was a new low.

Ned sat everyone down around his table. “Eugene, what is going on?”

Eugene stared blankly for a second. “What?”

“There’s obviously something wrong, either with you or in your life. We’re your friends. You can tell us anything. Please let us help.” “Honestly, I have no idea what all of you are worried about. I was up late and i fell asleep at my computer. Sorry for not being my usual punctual self. I promise I’m fine.”

Everyone at the table knew, this was bullshit but they also knew that if Eugene didn’t want to tell them, he wasn’t going to tell them.

In a strangely quiet mood, they all climbed into a taxi that was taking them to a club. Zach told a funny story to get everyone back in the mood and then everything was back to normal. Dancing ensued as soon as they arrived.

Eugene was panicking. He had to act normal. They knew something was up. This was too embarrassing to tell anyone, even his closest friends. The room was really hot. There were too many people. He needed to get outside. Eugene stumbled toward the place where he thought the door was but the room began to spin. Then it went dark

“Oof.” Zach got the breath knocked out of him as Eugene ungracefully collapsed onto him. Zach had followed Eugene, seeing how unsteady he looked. Catching him unconscious was not what he had planned. “Ummm, a little help?” he called. While a strong and wiry man, Zach could not lift Eugene. Keith and Ned found him, more from the path the dancers left around him, than his calling.

“So there’s definitely something wrong with Eugene,” Zach said, handing the unconscious man to Ned, who picked Eugene up bridal style. The barman showed them to a back room where they draped eugene on some furniture. Slowly his eyes fluttered open.

“Dude, what the fuck?!!!” Ned was angry. Eugene looked around at the faces above him. They wouldn’t understand. He turned away and closed his eyes again, hoping they would leave. This did not improve Ned’s temper so Zach took him out to try and calm him down. Keith stayed. He put a hand on Eugene’s shoulder.

“Please,” he whispered. “We just want to help. We really do care.”

Eugene sighed. “I know.” He felt something hot and wet on his cheeks. “I’m just afraid that you will all look at me differently if i tell you.” that was more emotion that he’d shown to anyone in a very long time. Keith struggled to hold back his own tears. He couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want the support of their friends in whatever they were going through.

“Can you at least tell me why you think you passed out? We need to make sure you don’t need medical attention.”

Professionalism. This was something that Eugene could do. “It might have something to do with me only eating a toaster waffle today.”

“For breakfast?”

“At all.”

Keith was incredulous. “How are you so calm about that?”

“Should I not be? It’s become sort of a routine.”

Keith turned his back and muttered under his breath, trying to stay calm. “I’m going to bring you some sandwiches and you are going to eat them. Do you understand?” Eugene nodded. He was too tired to argue. He would have much rather stayed asleep with his face on the keyboard than gone out anyway. Keith got some sandwiches from the bartender and explained the situation to Ned and Zach. It took awhile to actually get the sandwiches into the room because Keith had to help Zach restrain Ned, who was furious, and keep him from chewing out Eugene.

Eugene took the plate of sandwiches complacently, but didn’t take a bit out of one of them. Instead, he took the top off the top of one, ate the lettuce and tomato, before laying the rest aside. There were 3 sandwiches of average size. Eugene ate all the vegetables and then put the plate down, preparing to leave. Keith stopped him. “You didn’t finish.”

“Vegan, remember?”

“Bread is vegan. Besides, there are eggs in toaster waffles. Now sit down.”

Obediently, Eugene sat, picking at the bread and turkey. He would pinch off a piece, chew it slowly, swallow, wait what seemed like an extremely long time, and repeat. He kept asking, “Can I go now?”

Keith’s only response was “Finish”. He looked tired and drained, unable to bear seeing his friend like this.the others were let into the room but told to stay quiet. Finally, Eugene finished. He felt massively full and he was sure every person on the other side of the door should be able to see just how round his belly was. He burped uncomfortably. The 3 men stared at him.

“Well, now that I am finished, can i go?” No one tried to stop him so he stood up and left. Ned, Zach, and Keith looked at eachother. What were they going to do with him? They went back out and tried to enjoy themselves, all the while one always staying within catching distance.

Eugene seemed like he was alright, dancing and flirting like his usual self. He also drank quite a lot. As the night dragged on, his dancing got slower and less vibrant until he stopped, with his arms wrapped around his middle and his head bent down.

Zach was, again, the closest. “Are you ok?” He asked over the blaring of music.

“I don’t feel very good.” One of Eugene’s hands moved from his middle to be over his mouth.

“Fuck.” Zach grabbed Eugene. They made it to the men’s room just in time, Zach waiting outside, sure that Eugene would want some privacy. Even so, he could hear the wretching from outside.

“All done?” Zach asked. Eugene made a non-committal sick person noise so Zach came back in. He found Eugene sitting on the dirty floor with tears streaming down his cheeks once again. Zach knew lt beside him, rubbing his back.

“I’m sorry,” Eugene whimpered. “I tried so hard.”

“It’s ok,” Zach said, trying to be comforting but also very confused.

“I didn’t mean to make you all so upset. But i couldn’t keep it in. i’m sorry. It’s better this way.”

Zach wasn’t sure how to respond. “This way?”

“Out. it feels better out. Nothing feels right in me.”

Zach put his hand on Eugene’s middle, trying to see if he could ease any paint his friend might be experiencing. Immediately, Eugene tensed his whole body, sucking in his stomach as far as it would go. Then Zach understood. Wrapping his arms around Eugene, he hugged the taller man, throwing him off guard. “Eugene, you’re perfect. All of us love you just the way you are. You don’t have to change or try to look different, even if you think your public will like you more if you do.” He squeezed harder. “It’s not safe. We worry about you.” Zach kissed the back of Eugenes neck. Eugene finally leaned back into Zach’s arms, letting go the flood of tears he’d been repressing. Zach left early with Eugene, texting his friends the important details.

#try guys #ned #eugene #zach #keith #anorexia #ana #bulimia #eating disorder

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an-agender-disaster · 5 years

Note

Touch Starved Logan hurt/comfort?

Sorry it took so long! I hope this lives up to expectations! I did a more stream-of-consciences style of writing for this story, and I hope it works with the context.

AO3 link here!

Word count: 1147

________________________________________________________________

The world feels cold, today. That is strange in of itself, as it is Florida, which it hardly cold, and summer. A Florida summer. Summer in Florida. A hot summer day in Florida. Logan was having a hard time focusing on anything but this cold summer day. He has been trying to find the source of this dislocation, but he was unable to focus on figuring it out, so he just tried to continue his day as normal.

Logan looked down at the book he was reading, not processing the words on the page, when someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he calls, closing the book.

The door opens to Virgil, "Hey, Logan. Can I come in?" he asks, wringing his hands together.

"It is 'May I,' but yes, you may," Logan responds. Virgil walks in, shutting the door behind himself, and takes a seat next to Logan on his bed.

After a second, Virgil started talking again, "Patton has been worried about you recently. He's, um, been noticing that you seem... unfocused? And tired. Defiantly tired. So he wanted me to come up and ask if everything was okay with you, and stuff."

Tired? Is that why Logan could not focus. Well, Logan could focus, just not on what he wanted to focus on. Is he focusing on focusing now? No, this would be considered focusing on trying to focus, not focusing on focusing. He only wanted to focus on the tasks he had to do, not focusing on not focusing!

"Logan? You awake?" Virgil asked, snapping Logan back into reality.

"Yes, sorry Virgil. I will admit, I have been having a difficult time focusing recently-" Logan admits, hoping that saying this will not send him back down the wormhole of not focusing on not focusing again, "-but I am fine. Now, sorry to cut this conversation short, but I need to.... wait, what was I doing?" Logan stands and looks around his room, trying to remember what he had previously been doing, not noticing Virgil's concerned expression.

"Logan, maybe you should take a break, or something," he says, standing up, "I think Roman's planning a movie night. You should come down and join us with that."

Logan takes a few seconds to process Virgil's words, but when he does, he responds, "Thank you for the offer, but I have to decline. I have to do... do stuff."

Virgil hunches in on himself a small amount at the rejection. "Just, come down if you change your mind, okay?"

"Of course," Logan says, knowing that he has no intention of doing so.

"Alright," Virgil says as he walks out, "Bye."

"Goodbye," Logan responds as the door closes. Glancing around the room, his eyes falls again on the book that he had been reading. No, not reading, really. Looking at. His head felt cloudy and his eyes sore. Eyes sore? Does that even make sense? It is how he feels, so it makes sense to him.

Logan moves to sit down at his desk. He needs to find out what is wrong. Was he doing this before? No, He was trying not to focus on not focusing. Or was that after Virgil entered? Wait, no. Logan needs to keep himself on the task at hand. After turning his computer on, he types his password in and opens his browser. He then types in his symptoms, hoping to find something that could help him. Dislocation. Drowsiness. Irritable. Those are funny words. They sound funny, anyways. No, no, focus. He is Logic. Focusing is his job, what he does. So why can he not do it now?

Groaning in frustration, Logan presses enter, causing a flurry of results to pop up. Only one catches his eye. "Symptoms of Touch Starvation". He remembered that Virgil had suffered from this after he left the dark sides. Clicking on the link, he tries for the second time this day to process the words he is reading, and, much like the first time, failed. Logan removes his glasses and rubs his eyes, only wanting to be able to... to focus and process and work! Tears of frustration start to fall from his eyes, him being to tired to care. He shakily sobs, only wanting sleep.

After calming himself down, Logan looks back at the screen, then realizes that he still has his glasses off. Putting those back on, he tries to read the page. Focusing for much longer then it should have taken, he starts to read. It is slow, but he reads.

"A dearth of touch in our lives can leave us anxious. Unsettled. And insomniac. I’ve certainly experienced terrible insomnia during long periods of singlehood, and when I get more touch, my sleep improves."

What? Logan had to reread the segment a few times, trying to understand. Long periods of singlehood? Does that also mean being alone? But Logan was not alone. He was around the other sides most of the time, right? He was around Virgil earlier today. Why is he not doing better then? The segment says that touch also is needed. Did Virgil and him ever touch during that encounter? Thinking back on it, Logan realizes that no, they did not touch during that interaction.

Would he be better if he had direct contact with the other sides? It helped Virgil, right? But Virgil did not experience the same symptoms, or did he? Virgil still had many figurative walls a the time. Perhaps he was hiding the worst of his side affects back then.

Logan turns off the computer and stands up. Maybe if he joins the other sides for the movie night, things would be better. He walks out of his room, closing the door behind him. The hallway is uncharacteristically quiet. Usually you could hear Roman joyfully singing, Patton telling jokes, or the hum of music from Virgil's headphones. Now all he hears is silence. Wait, no. Silence is not something you can hear. You can not hear the absence of sound, much like you can not taste the absence of taste, right?

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Logan walks down the stairs, now able to hear the sounds of a Disney movie. He can not pinpoint which one, as most sound the same to him, but it is in the middle of a song. Walking downstairs, Logan looks around the living room. Patton looks at Logan, a smile spreading across his face. "Logan! Did you come down to join us?"

"Of course I did," Logan responds as Patton rushes up to him. Patton grabs Logan's hand, sending a jolt of warmth to spread throughout Logan. Pulling Logan along, Patton sits them both down next to each other on the couch. With them just sitting down with each other, Logan feels overheated, but his head feels clearer, more sharp.

The world feels warm today.

#thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #ts #ts patton #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #hurt/comfort #fluff #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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marvelous-avengers · 6 years

Text

saturday

a/n: goodmorning!!! this is totally self indulgent and i wanted it so here it is!

summary: You like to sleep in and don’t get to. Bucky is a lil worried. Modern/post-college au

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: fluff fluff fluff and some funnies (i tried). so self indulgent for me, but i hope you all enjoy

Saturday.

A morning for blinds pulled all the way and sleeping in. For relaxing and taking advantage of the one day off after working your ass off for days on end. Your plan on Friday night was to avoid all life, grab a glass of water and sleep in until God knows when the next morning.

But God isn’t so helpful.

Being awake at the rip time of 9:27 in the morning might seem like a gift, but it’s fairly disappointing when you’re only sleeping in two hours after you’re usually awake and getting ready. You groan and stuff your face into the pillow, already frustrated with how the day is going.

You had accidentally left your floral string lights plugged in, the soft lights hanging above your bedframe. Maybe the light woke you up? Your pillows were comfortable, a little weird from your tossing and turning in the night. Your cheeks feel warm, but not ‘I’ve just woken up and it’s so nice in my bed’ warm. No, they were ‘I feel a little overheated and dry’ warm. The worst kind.

You groan again, throwing the covers off and sitting up, rubbing your hands over your face and through your hair. Your bare legs are happy with the little air floating through your room, and you stretch your socked feet, toes cracking. There is no reason you should be this warm in the morning. You stumble out of your room and over to the thermostat in the living room, the damned old fashioned thing, and see that the red line is teetering around seventy-five degrees.

You scowl at it.

“Fuck that,” you mumble, turning it down to a reasonable temperature at around sixty. You rub at your forehead again as you head back up the narrow stairs to your room, using the bathroom on your way before climbing back into bed.

Your roommate and best friend Wanda, god love her, loved to be warm. She was usually cold, and with the recent chill that blew through the city, bringing a heaping pile of snow with it, she had a habit of turning up the heat while you were at work. The only real problem is that because your apartment is two levels, and at the top of the small three-floor complex, the heat rises to the top floor, which is where your bedrooms reside.

So it got very warm up there, for no reason other than simple physics.

The building was older, with renovated apartments, but yours has been lived in by friends and friends of friends for the last six years, so it hasn’t really changed since then. Everything worked, but the heat was the wonkiest.

You think back to last night, noticing that it was teetering between warm and too warm when you got home, and Wanda had turned up the heat while you had been at work. Again. You turned it down to a reasonable level, watched some TV together and then went to bed.

She must’ve turned it back up after you went to sleep.

Another thing that is the result of a too warm room is waking up earlier than you’d like to.

You burrow yourself in your bed, turning until comfortable, as you close your eyes and try to let sleep overcome you again.

---

Bucky notices that it’s just past eleven am and he hasn’t heard from you yet.

Not that he’s worried–you usually send him a meme or a ‘goodmornin’ cutie’ text when you’re up and ready to tackle the world. He’ll send you one as well–which he did this morning–you just haven’t responded yet.

He stares at his phone as watches the number change to 11:09.

Strange.

He knows that you’re usually up by now. You either go to work or are trying to get errands done, whether it’s grocery shopping or picking up your developed film rolls. He remembers, because you complained about your favorite shop closing and now you have to walk another few blocks for mediocre service.

He tries to remember if you had previously mentioned any plans for the day that would cause an absence. He usually saw you every other day; you lived close enough and worked in the same area, it was easy to see you. That was part of why your relationship was so good–you talked a lot in person and hung out frequently enough, but had your own lives and jobs that kept you busy.

He starts to wonder if you might be upset with him, and that’s not a fun hole to climb into.

Bucky thinks he’s a good boyfriend. He shows up when he says he will, surprises you on occasion with flowers or a treat, and he walks you home when he can. He is a good boyfriend, and he doesn’t think he’s done anything particularly dumb or awful or forgetful this week.

So why hasn’t he heard from you today yet?

He stares at his coffee in his mug and thinks hard. He knows that you were working a lot and that with a few conventions and conferences in town, work must’ve been busier than usual. Which is good for the restaurant, but not always great for the people working. Because guests can be rude and awful and more than once you have come home angry or upset with something a customer did or how crazy the restaurant was.

Some part of his mind, the sane part, reminds Bucky that it is your day off and that you are probably just in bed. You get into habits where you need a day for yourself, where you turn off your phone and just sit and read and do things to take care of yourself. Dealing with tons of people all week, for days on end is very draining and you need to isolate yourself sometimes until you are ready to do it all again. This might be one of those days, you might just need some time for yourself.

But as the clock on his phone ticks closer to eleven thirty and he still has nothing from you saying that you are alive and well, the worried part of his brain takes over.

Bucky throws a jacket on over his hoodie, laces up his shoes and is out the door.

---

You don’t sleep another wink, and it’s frustrating and disappointing.

You loved to sleep, and sleeping when it’s cold out is arguably the best. You get to not wear pants, pull the blinds over, and curl up under piles of sheets and blankets and knock yourself out until noon.

But not when your roommate turns the fucking heat up.

You’re not really mad at her–just frustrated. Frustrated that your sleep has been interrupted by temperature, for god’s sakes, and it seems so lame and unforgiving. It’s why you like fall and winter, but you also hate it because seasonal affective disorder is the realest thing there is and has not been kind to you lately.

Anyway.

Your body aches just the slightest, so for the last two hours you’ve been scrolling your phone mindlessly, thumbing through books and tossing and turning with your eyes closed to try and nap. You are determined to not to anything today. But between covering yourself and throwing the covers off of you, the warmth still evident in the air, you haven’t slept another wink.

You’re so distracted by trying to sleep and you’re almost there when there’s a gentle knock at your door.

“Babe?”

Your head turns up in confusion. Bucky?

It hadn’t taken him long to walk over there. He had used his spare key to let himself in, toeing off his shoes and tossing his jacket on a kitchen chair. He’d listened for any hints that you were awake, but got nothing. All the lights were off when he came in, so he guessed that everyone was still asleep. Seeing your keys hanging on the wall next to the door, he let out a sigh of quiet relief.

He barely made any noise as he climbed the steps, the carpet capturing his footsteps. Even in the darkness of the second floor, he found your door easily and announced his presence with a gentle knock.

“Babe?”

His soft voice shocks you fully awake and he knocks for a second time. “Babe, are you awake?”

“Yeah,” you answer, and you don’t see his shoulders relax. You sit up, rubbing your face again. Your skin still feels warm, and you hate it.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He hears you rustle as you get up and unlock the door, opening it to reveal his pretty face. His eyes quickly take in your form, clad only in an oversized shirt and your socks, messy hair on top, and he visibly relaxes. “What do you mean ‘oh’?”

He blushes lightly, scratching the back of his neck. “I just got a little worried when you didn’t answer me this morning. Thought something was wrong.”

“God, you’re so cute,” you groan, grabbing his hand and pulling him into your room. When you shut the door behind him, he wraps you in his arms and hugs you close, hands warm and soothing on your back. You stuff your face into his neck, humming and breathing in the scent of Bucky that comforts you always. When you pull away, you tilt your head and press a kiss to his lips. “Sorry, I was trying to sleep in. I didn’t see it.”

“‘S okay,” he says, hands running up and down your back. “I figured, I just got a little worried. No biggie.”

You smile, cupping his face and kissing him again. When he pulls away, Bucky’s face is scrunched up. “Why is it so warm in here?”

You roll your eyes and fall back onto your bed, and Bucky sheds his sweater. “Because Wanda turned up the thermostat again and heat rises. Which in turn, woke me up on my day off.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he replies, sitting next to you and placing a hand on your leg. Your eyes are closed, hands folded over your stomach. You look tired. “Do you want to go back to sleep? I can leave if you want.”

Your eyes shot open and you grab his hand. “Noo, don’t leave. Stay and nap with me. Please?” You pout slightly, and Bucky chuckles.

“Okay.” He leans down and kisses your forehead, earning a happy noise from you. Then he stands up and walks over to your window, cracking it just enough so that a small breeze floats in. The temperature in your room immediately drops and you smile at him, situating yourself correctly on your bed. He strips down to his boxers and chuckles again as you make grabby hands for him. He kisses you again before curling behind you, wrapping one arm around your middle as the other slips underneath the pillows.

Once you’re settled under the covers, you let out a massive sigh, and he tightens his arm around you. “Better?”

“Much.” You interlace your fingers with his, bringing his hand up to kiss it before placing it back against your chest. I love you, thank you. Bucky kisses your shoulder, nuzzling the back of your head. I love you, too. Your breaths even out in minutes, and a warm feeling erupts in his chest as he too, relaxes into unconsciousness.

A perfect way to spend a Saturday.

#jess writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #college au #bucky barnes college au #marvel fluff #mcu #marvel

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wickednerdery · 6 years

Photo

Title: FrostBitten: Touch of Warmth Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Loki x Reader x Jotun!OC Rating: Teen Summary: “You really are a bold one." Notes: This is the epilogue for this series/multi-chapter fic - Masterlist Here. Ulfr is a Frost Giant, more clearly so than Loki, and “played” by Lee Pace. The whole thing in general is dark, this piece just has a bit of violence, but for consistency and length it gets a “Read More”.

You fly up in bed with a scream, ripping sheets from body as if they’re flaming. Your heart slams so that your chest hurts, so that you double up and cringe in sweat-soaked bed. There’s a strange numbness in you, like nerve-endings still working to reconnect after a deep burn. Eyes cast around for reassurance…

It’s all there. The lockers, the bunk-beds, the table covered in computers, files, and a television. You’re at work, still on-call like everyone else. Black smoke fills the sky, crawling up to the sun, and in the distance there’s explosions.

“Triage external...” the intercom announces throughout the building. “Triage external...all available personnel to the emergency department...” The siren blares twice, then the intercom announcement begins again.

You’re already up, slipping phone into back pocket before splashing water from nearby sink on your face and heading out. Stairs over elevator you take the two flights down in record time and dash into Emergency as the news in the background covers the outside chaos.

“We can confirm the being known only as Loki has escaped S.H.I.E.L.D.’s custody...residents of New York City and surrounding areas are encouraged to remain indoors while attempts to recapture....”

“I need a hand!” A male voice from down the hall reclaims your attention and you rush over through the throngs of patients and staff. He looks up when you arrive, eyes between relieved, unsure, and still panicked. “There’s a wound along the hairline at the back of his head with a metal fragment inside, I don’t have tweezers available.”

“Lemme give it a try,” you offer, grabbing gloves from nearby dispenser. “You’re the great Dr Steven Strange, right?” You slip gloves on as the doctor rolls the man as best he can.

“Mostly I prefer Dr Strange,” he smiles faintly as he watches you bunch the sheet of the gurney up by the patient’s head to catch excess blood. “But Steven is acceptable outside work.”

You examine the area, clean the wound as best you can using more of the gurney’s sheet. “Think we’ll meet outside work, do you?” You don’t give him a chance to answer. “Got him steady?”

“Yes.”

You nod, gently spread skin just enough to see what you’re looking for. Fingers slide into wound, pausing only when the unconscious man twitches, until you have pinched-hold of the shard. “Stabilize or remove, Doctor?”

“How’s it feel?”

“Thin, but firm...Loose...slippery though.”

“Think you can get it out?”

“Yes.”

“Certain?”

You glance up, smile faintly. “Absolutely.”

He nods. “Stop if you feel resistance.”

You proceed - careful of potential veins, arteries, flesh - until the length of shrapnel is completely out. You set it aside and quickly press the bunched up sheet over the wound. “Hold him still, I’ll stitch him up.”

“Thought I was the doctor.” It comes with a faint smile as Dr Strange continues to hold the patient in position.

“With hands shaking due to a panicked rush of adrenaline,” you note, holding out your own, steady, hand for the suture kit on his side. You take it as he concedes without word.

“You know, I hear there’s a vacancy on Dr Palmer’s team.”

You can’t hide your smile. “I hear there’s one in yours, Dr Strange.”

“You’re a bold one,” Steven notes with a mix of amusement and admiration.

Ulfr waits as Loki escapes, waits for the height of his havoc and the Avengers to be solidly together against the god. He bides his time better than before, his only goal now being to get away without fucking up this little world with its little wonders.

“You gonna behave?” The armed guard steps into the cell with a slight sneer at the Jotun. “Or you need another round in the sauna?” Their name for the overheated room they seem to delight sticking him in whenever they deem him uncooperative.

Soft eyes and slight pout, Ulfr nods his head.

“Good boy.” The guard chuckles in triumph before a shiver takes over his body. Then another, this one bad enough he sucks in breath and teeth chatter.

“I’ve learned something new,” the Frost Giant smiles softly. “I think it’ll make things easier...for me anyway.”

“What’re you talking about?” The man’s hands shake even as he lifts flame-gun at the other.

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I am sorry for what’s about to happen.”

“What’s about to happen?” Eyes narrow, face turning blue as he grows colder still.

“I’m gonna kill you...and all your friends...again.” His memories of the first time are still in there, at the back of his mind, and he’s powerful enough now to bring them forth. To see which steps he must retake and which he must avoid to make things right. “I’ll do it differently this time,” Ulfr rises, growing more his true self with every second. “But, I’m afraid, it’ll be more painful.”

The guard steps back from the Frost Giant on joints so stiff they barely move. “On your knees, you frozen prick.” His finger goes to the trigger, but not a moment later he finds he can’t move his finger. Or any other joint.

Ulfr towers over him, blue form decorated in delicate pale-blue lines, with sympathetic red eyes. “Believe it or not, probably not,” he chuckles, refocuses, “I enjoy your realm, your people, greatly, but I’ve been an experiment one too many times. I cannot allow it to continue, not even with creatures as lovely as you Midgardians.”

As the guard slowly turns to ice, the Jotun shape-shifts into his form.

Loki’s eyes are keen only for an exit, an escape route, as muzzle prevents his Seiðr from being accessed. Between his brother, the Avengers, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. guards there’s little hope in brute force. There’s little hope in anything for him. He listens carefully to the team as they speak, rolls eyes at the snickering Romanov and Barton, before catching sight of something of true interest.

You. You looking haggard, shuffling across the park in hospital scrubs, yawning between sips of Starbucks. You looking lovely too...Unspoiled, full of potential and hopeful for the future now that you truly have one again. That you turn as Loki attempts to reach out, willing you to see him, stuns.

It’s shocking that the Avengers might bring such a danger out in the open with others casually going about their lives at the same place and time. More shocking that you can’t seem to look away from the being. That he seems to hold you in the thrall of his sad, but commanding, eyes. That strange numbness of your body returns and you’re hit hard by a deep chill in the pit of your stomach so that you nearly cry out, double over.

Large hands catch you, help you straighten out. “Deep breaths, I’ve got you.” The voice is deep, a touch of gravel mixing with its overall smoothness. He walks you towards the nearest bench, sets you down. “And we’ve got him...Well, the Avengers do.”

As pain fades, sensation returns, you look up...and keep looking up. He’s like a tree, a giant, well over six feet tall with long legs, broad shoulders, and shaggy hair. He blocks the sun as he smiles down at you; you can’t help but smile back. “You, uh...you’re from S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“For the moment.” When your face falls to confusion he smiles more. “It’s all hands on deck, so to speak...I’m sure things will change once Loki’s off-realm.”

“Right...right...” It still sounds strange, off, but you haven’t the energy nor clarity of mind to press the man. And, when he crouches down to meet your eyes, you haven’t the words.

White tattoos cover his body in intricate patterns, his eyes seem...red. “This is gonna sound strange, but can I...request something of you?”

“...Okay....”

“Don’t worry about the numbness, about your stomach, it’ll pass. It’s just...residual memories your body’s holding onto. You should be fine in a week or so, sooner if S.H.I.E.L.D.’s got something up their sleeve, which I’m sure they do.”

“...Okay...” You can’t think of anything else to say as chilled hands takes yours.

“You’ll be fine,” Ulfr squeezes your hand gently. “Trust me, I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

Even as he closes in, even as ice lips press against your cheek, you don’t move. You don’t even tense. It feels...like it’s okay. Like he’s meant to do it, like he’s done it before or should be doing it in another world. You close eyes in a sigh only to reopen them to nothing.

The red-eyed giant is gone and, looking out, so are both the God of Thunder and his Machiavellian brother, Loki. The other Avengers seem to mingle a moment or two, then go their separate ways.

You remain on the bench as if waiting for the men to return, but they don’t. Of course they don’t. So desperate for an hour’s uninterrupted sleep you must be losing your mind. Finishing off your coffee you groan as you start to get up again, then turn as someone calls your name.

Steven hustles in your direction, smile appearing once he reaches you. “You still serious about wanting on my team?”

“You ran after me to ask me that?”

“No, of course not,” he huffs, smile growing. “I ran after you to walk you home.” Your eyes narrow and he chuckles. “I heard on the news The Avengers were in the park, with Loki, I thought maybe...”

“You’d catch a peek?”

“I’d walk you home,” Dr Strange insists in a friendly manner, straightening up. “Still interested?”

“In the job or the walk home?”

“Both.”

“Sure.” You start walking.

“Good.” He follows. “I have a surgery scheduled next week and could use another steady hand around.”

“And the walk home?”

“Thought I’d be chivalrous.”

“That’s sweet.” You smile, he smiles. “Next time you should just ask me out though, unless you’d rather I do it.”

Steven laughs. “You really are bold, aren’t you”?

“To the point of bluntness, I’ve been told.”

“It’s admirable.”

“Always is…until it gets me in trouble.”

“Well, I admire it.”

“That’s only because I asked you out.”

So, because everyone was asking - and might still be wondering - the baby is...no longer in existence. Due to the Time Stone reset the reader never truly met Loki or Ulfr, therefore she never got pregnant. She doesn’t remember it, she won’t be mourning any loss. Only her body vaguely remembers the other timeline and while the chill in her stomach is related to the pregnancy, the rest has to do with when she touched the Time Stone. Loki and Ulfr DO remember the other timeline though (haven’t decided yet if others will remember, I’ll figure that out when I do the sequel lol!). Also I’m NOT saying The Bold One ends up with Dr Strange, I’m just saying maybe they went out for a couple coffees or dinners once, lol! (PS: “Triage External” is a US code in hospitals for a disaster outside the hospital...and I’m sure what I wrote is medically wrong, but I don’t care just now lol!)

And that’s it. That’s the end of FrostBitten everyone!! I hope you enjoyed it , bless you all for your support and help and inspiration, and I hope you stay tuned for the sequel and any side pieces from this world/series!!!

(Top gif made from two found on Google))

Tagged: @succumb-to-your-king @chibiyanai @wadeyouwitch @creedslove @lady-crowned-with-stars @moonfaery @annievvv7 @ladyfluff @holykryptonitekitten @lokilvrr @janebrownnie @lokis-little-kitten @alexakeyloveloki @theangelsfightwithdevils @the-blue-tiefling @lokis-lady-death @dangertoozmanykids101 @prometheasmother @vethrvolnir @wintertink @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @drakonwild @starscreamloki @judas-bby @hiddles-rose @the-lady-witchitery @galaxies-inside-my-head @jackheart180 @lukeevansandjdmobession @endlessstairway @lanabanana-86 @tom-fucking-hiddleston-1981 @lovekrystina @madoka73 @lokikingofasgardslover713 @partiallyinthecloset @ultrarebelheart @gravitational-anomaly @manip-loki @my-world-of-imagines …Think that’s everyone!

#Loki #loki x reader #fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #OC: Ulfr #loki x reader x oc #loki x oc #my writing #not my gif #but kinda my gif #frostbitten #dr stephen strange #dr strange #christine palmer #give me the darkness #the avengers #epilogue

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