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lys1 · 3 years

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This is an Asra x fem!reader. NSFW for sure, porn WITH plot <3 this is my first post on tumblr so feedback appreciated.

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You walk through the dusty streets of the Market towards the palace. Hundreds of stalls loom up on either side, alive and vibrant with colors, smells, and tastes. It feels good to be back in the heart of Vesuvia.

You turn to look at Asra beside you, keeping your exhausted pace. It had been 8 days since Nadia had asked Asra and yourself to go check out some mysterious magic happenings on the outskirts of the city. You scoff to yourself, mysterious indeed, it took half the time to even track down the little pixie creatures causing ruckus and mayhem. Eventually, after some exhaustive spell casting and careful teamwork the two of you had managed to return the troublesome pixies to the proper magic realm they escaped from.

You yawn tiredly, loosening the emerald colored traveling scarf from around your neck. It was afternoon now, and the sun was beating down.

"Almost there now," Asra spoke up, breaking the silence. He looked fondly over at you, a smile lighting up his sun kissed face. Even so, you could see that the time away from home had taken its toll on him too. You were both more than ready to hit the hay.

You nod slightly, keeping back another yawn. "I hope Nadia has food for us, I'm starved." The villagers in the towns you had visited were kind and generous, but nothing could beat the delectable food that the palace prepared.

Asra chuckled, "I'm sure that right after we fill her in on the successful pixie management she'll immediately be tending to us like a mother hen. You know how she is, she loves to provide." He pushed back his curls from his face to wipe his brow of sweat, smiling as he too imagined the delicious array of food that was about to be offered. He picked up his pace at the thought, making you jog a bit to keep up.

The Palace gates soon loomed over the two of you, sparkling and gold in the summer sun. The guards at the gate looked up as you approached.

"Ah, the magicians! I trust everything went alright?" One asked, clearly recognizing the famous duo. He smiled warmly, maybe a little starstruck.

Asra returned his smile, "it was simply magical."

You rolled your eyes at the terribly overused pun as the guard gave a hearty laugh. The two of you were waved in and informed that the countess was waiting for you in the dining room.

"Oh even better," you groaned in appreciation. "We get to eat while we talk. I love Nadia." Your stomach growls in agreement. Asra flashes you a beautiful smile as his feet climb the stairs alongside yours.

"And clearly," he adds, "she loves us back!" He was particularly looking forward to some blue tongued skink, Nadia knew it was his favorite.

It only took a couple minutes to reach the dining hall. One of the servers was bustling out the moment You and Asra rounded the corner to the door.

"Oh, hello!" They said, giving a small polite now. "The countess is expecting you! Please, come right in." They moved aside, holding the large ornate door open with one of their hands.

You wink and whisper your thanks as the two of you make your way in. Immediately your mouth fills with saliva at the smell that filled the room. The table was large and being filled with platters of many foods of different origins. The gold dinnerware twinkled delightedly up at you and the red wine glimmered deep and inviting.

"Welcome, friends." Nadia opens her arms, rising from her chair. She had just been sipping on some pre-dinner tea while waiting for her guests. She was smiling, and looking absolutely magnificent in her shining purple and gold robes.

"Hello Nadi," Asra said, joining you and her in a quick hug before seating himself at the table. You follow, sitting beside him as Nadia resumes her seat. The servants bring the last platter of steaming dumplings out at that moment.

You sigh contentedly. "This looks amazing Nadia, I feel spoiled."

Nadia smiles, the faintest blush on her high cheeks. "Anything for my favorite magicians, willing to travel far and wide in aid of Vesuvians in need." She adores, raising her wine glass. "To my dear friends, what I would do without you, I wouldn't know."

You and Asra raise your glasses with her, each of your own cheeks now a healthy pink. Nadia declares the meal to begin and you all dig in.

"Oh my, what troublemakers!" Nadia declares, after hearing the story about the pixies. The food was being relished amongst every plate and the wine was flowing steadily. "I can't believe such tricky little creatures exists." She continues, eyes sparkling as she pours another cup of wine.

"Yes, well, the magic world is something else entirely." Asra laughs, relaxed and feeling full. He was lounging comfortably, one hand gripping your thigh, another holding his gold goblet. His skin was warm and aglow.

You had your own hand comfortably nestled in his snowy white locks, massaging slow circles into his scalp. It had been a long 8 days and you were both happy to finally be able to relax into each other while having pleasant conversation.

"You should have seen the way they caused mischief," you add. “Oh I felt terrible for that village. So many upside down cows to turn over." Asra smiles as you tell the story, closing his eyes and leaning into your gentle touch. It was, to put it simply, the best feeling he could imagine. Well, almost.

Nadia chuckles again. "Well, I'm just glad that they are gone and we can laugh about this." She says, sighing in slight relief. "Vesuvia is fortunate to have two talented magicians like yourself. I am fortunate to have you as my friends. Your well deserved payment is in your guest room."

Asra blinks, "oh, you're offering us a place to stay tonight?" He asked, the gratefulness clear in his tone. You couldn't help but agree, walking back to the shop did not really sound like something either of you wanted to do. Especially, you muse, lifting your glass to your lips, after how many wine jugs the three of you had emptied.

"Why of course," Nadia looks surprised that we even had to ask. "And," she continued, "use of my personal bath this evening. You two more than deserve some relaxation and.. fun." She ends her sentence after a slight pause, giving you both a side glance full of humor.

You feel your cheeks go slightly hotter at the obvious suggestion. However, embarrassment aside, nothing else sounded better right now. You look down at your lover who was now lounging against your lap and smile. Oh how far too long it had been, the pixies had been relentless and had not offered much down time.

Asra chuckles, clearly more comfortable with the suggestion. He always had been a bit more confident when it came to discussing your private life. You found it quite endearing.

"Oh Nadi," he smiles. "You just made this evening even better somehow. I can't wait to take my love there and-"

Nadia waves her hand, laughing at your horrified face. "Please, please, I certainly don't need to know details." She grins, "just go, and take the wine."

Asra didn't need more encouragement and sat up promptly. He looks down at you, a shadow of hunger in his lilac eyes, offering you his hand. You take it, biting your lip as his gaze continues to rake over your body in the sort of way that makes you squirm.

"Thank you, Nadia." You say breathlessly, and a little sheepishly.

Nadia smiles, "anytime." She says, laughter still ringing in her voice. "Now go, before Asra here makes love to you on this table."

Your eyes open wide, shocked to hear her say such dirty words before ducking your head down in embarrassment.

Asra rests his hand on your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear, "you heard the lady." His voice is sultry and thick with want. "The table is looking awfully inviting right now."

Quickly, you turn and head out the door, Asra following close behind. The bath is not far down the hall and the two of you make great time. Asra's hand is at your waist, pressing in such a way that you know means desire. You hadn't realized how badly he had been missing you.

You make it to the door and turn to look back at your lover. You gulp at the hot scene behind you. Asra's eyes are half-lidded, purple irises cloudy with lust. His shirt is already half unbuttoned, revealing his delicious golden tan skin, smooth and beautiful. He's looking at you in a way that makes you think he hasn't eaten in a week and you are a five course meal.

He closes in, pushing you against the door and reaching for the handle. "You're terribly slow," he says, voice already rough, desire prominent. He pushes the handle and the latch clicks, the door swings in behind you.

The two of you tumble into the sweet smelling room. Obviously Nadia informed a servant ahead of time of the use of this room because the bath was already filled and steaming. On top of the water pink rose petals float, filling the area with a soft floral scent.

Asra closes the door with a soft click and looks over his shoulder at you. "Oh my dear," he murmurs, taking the couple strides to wrap you up in his strong arms. "I've missed hearing you cry my name, kissing those lips, and feeling your skin." His fingers travel up your waist and over your stomach. They linger, just a moment at the swell under your breast before finally cupping your face in his hands.

You tremble under his touch, body suddenly aching with need. You bring your own hands up to his chest and splay your fingers out so you can feel his heart beating. It's fast and erratic, excited to be close to you.

"Sweetheart," Asra whispers, voice heady. It's intoxicating to hear him talk to you in such a way. You look up at him and catch him licking his lips. You bring your own up to meet his, tongue out to capture his. He groans, melting into the kiss, gripping your hair so tightly it's almost painful.

You gasp, mouth opening and he runs his tongue along your lips, tasting the wine you both had shared. "Delicious," he says against your skin, tasting more and more. His hot open mouth kisses travel from your lips to your cheek, jaw, and finally resting on your neck. Asra loves to leave marks, and he takes your skin between his teeth intending to do exactly that.

Your moan comes out hoarse and you feel heat starting to pool between your legs. They feel shaky and weak, unable to withstand such torment.

Asra steadies you and pulls back briefly, cheeks flushed hot, want written all over his face. "We," he states, "are wearing far too many clothes for a bath."

You laugh and take his shirt in your hands. "I agree," you say, pulling at the remaining buttons. They come free easily and soon a glorious, shirtless Asra is standing before you. You drink in the sight unashamedly, totally enthralled with your lover. Gradually, though slowed by each other's groping hands, you both end up undressed.

Asra grabs your thighs and hoists you up onto his hips. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your breasts into his soft skin. He groans appreciatively, nuzzling his face into your chest breathing deeply, and walks the two of you over to the edge of the bath.

The water is still very warm as it licks your skin. You jump in surprise and moan slightly as it overtakes your aching folds and up over your ass. "Ahh-" you sigh, slumping into the crook of Asra's neck. "This is so good."

Asra hums his agreement before taking your chin between his fingers and directing you too look at him. His eyes are swimming with love, need, and an absolute desire to ravish you. You swallow hard, unable to look away.

"I want you." He says simply, barely above a whisper. He maneuvers your body so your back is against his chest. You lean your head back into him and relax in the fragrant water. Asra snakes his left arm around your waist and trails his fingers from your belly button downwards.

You bite back a squeal as his trained fingers circle the small nub at the top of your slit. He adds pressure, rubbing you in a manner that makes you crazy. Your hips wiggle back and you feel him, hard and straining, pressing into your ass. His breath hitches only for a second before he leans down to pepper soft kisses on your neck and shoulders.

His other hand makes it’s way up to your right breast and he expertly rolls your perked nipples between two fingers. Your whole body shudders in response to his actions.

“Ah, fuck Asra,” you choke out, moving your hips to meet his fingers as he slides them down your slick towards your now dripping hole. He wastes no time plunging two in, enjoying the feeling of your walls tightening around him.

Asra lifts his lips from your skin and brings his mouth to your ear. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you. Pretty and wet for my fingers, aching to be filled.” He curls them as he says that, relishing in the soft gasps that fall from your trembling lips.

You groan as he licks the shell of your ear, hot breath teasing on the sensitive skin. “You,” your voice falters a second as Asra’s fingers continue to explore your insides in a way that makes you grip his strong thighs on either side of you. “You are ready for me too.” You finally gasp out, finding the strength to grind back against Asra’s swollen cock. You knew if you could see it, it would be an angry red and leaking precum, desperate to be buried to the hilt inside of you.

Asra’s breath comes out in a short gasp that makes you smirk in satisfaction. At least you still have a little control left. That thought flies out your brain a second later when Asra pinches your nipple hard then twists, making you cry out in painful pleasure.

“Watch yourself, my love.” He coos playfully, no remorse in his words. You grit your teeth, taking in the torture that both of his skilled hands are laying upon you. You know what he wants, and it is oh so tempting to give in. You’re almost at war with yourself as your back arches on its own accord in rapt pleasure.

“Oh please, please.” You finally break, body shaking. You reach your arms back and thread your fingers through Asra’s fluffy locks before gripping hard. “Asra please fuck me already.” You plead, unable to care anymore that you were begging.

You feel Asra’s fingers slow to a stop inside you and then remove themselves. You almost groan in disappointment but you know better.

Asra flips your body around so you’re straddling his hips. You gasp when suddenly you’re faced to face with your beautiful lover. He looks positively stunning, the soft moonlight coming in from the high windows bathing him in a pearlescent light. His skin is glowing with a cool sheen, and his breath is leaving parted lips shallowly. Not to mention, his hard cock straining against your stomach, just begging for attention.

You bring your hand down and rest your index finger lightly on the slit. Asra shudders at the touch, but certainly not complaining. He’s slick, just as you expected, and you lightly circle his tip.

“You go on and on about how ready I am.” You tease, “but look at you, practically cumming into my hand already.” You lift your fingers and bring them to your mouth, tasting his salty sweetness. Asra’s diet is rich with fruit and vitamins, and oh how you loved how he tasted as a result.

Watching you lick your fingers coyly has Asra’s eyes drooping with lust. “My dear, oh my love,” he whispers. “How I am going to fuck you until I fill you with that cum you love so much. Because it’s true, you love it don’t you.” He says, voice sugar sweet, expecting an answer.

You blush, despite your best efforts. You look at him, but he only blinks in return, waiting.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice thicker with need than you realized. You give up trying to be bashful. “Yes, yes. I love your cum, how it tastes, how it feels when you fill me up. I want it so bad.” You beg, looping your arms around his neck so your lips are just inches apart. “You have my heart, soul, and body.” The words tumble out naturally, “and gods, do I need you now.”

Asra bites your bottom lip harshly before fully overtaking your mouth with his. He’s moaning, almost desperately, into you. “I love you, my dearest one.” He pants, gripping your ass with his hands. You feel your hips being lifted up and your body quakes knowing what’s coming.

You feel the tip of Asra on the heat of your slit and you sigh deeply, “I love you too, Asra.” You say, bending your neck so your head rests on his muscular shoulder. Your lips find a sweet spot on his neck, an anchor, as he lowers you down onto him. It’s tantalizingly slow, allowing you to feel every inch as you sink lower in the water until he’s fully sheathed in you.

“Oh gods,” Asra groans, both from feeling you pulse around him and from your playful lips on his neck. “You are a gift to me.” He says, breathless from the feelings.

You smile, in delight from your lovers sweet words. Slowly and carefully you lift your hips up, at the same time dragging your tongue up his smooth neck to his ear. You suck and nibble on the lobe as you find your rhythm, bouncing steadily on the thick shaft. He feels absolutely amazing in you, filling you perfectly.

Asra grips your butt underwater with his strong hands and leans his head to the side, giving you better access. He guides your hips to a steady pace, humming appreciatively when you comply. “It has been far too long since I’ve felt your sweet pussy squeezing me like this.” He says, without skipping a beat.

You don’t have time to blush before he picks up the pace, leaving you moaning loudly into his ear as he hits the spot that makes you crazy. “Ah fuck, I agree, I do agree.” You manage, finally finding the words.

The water sloshes around your two bodies, stirring the rosy scent into the air. It’s smells amazing and makes you dizzy with pleasure as every sense seems to be met. Asra huffs gently next to your ear, holding you tightly against his body.

You savor the feelings of your chests sliding against each other, the feeling sleek from the warm water and sweat mixing. Your hips meet his, snapping against each other with quick splashes, making you see stars as he hits every time the spot that has you go wild.

The muscles in your lower stomach tighten and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’re screaming Asra’s name for the whole palace to hear. “Baby,” you say breathlessly, kissing any skin you can reach. His cheek, the corner of his eye, his plump lips. “I’m going to cum.” You whisper into his mouth. He swallows your delicious words and licks your lips in response.

“I love when you do that,” he says, a slight chuckle in his words. He wraps his arms tightly around your middles before bringing his hands up to your shoulder blades and raking his nails down your spine. You shudder at the erotic feeling and arch your back against his hands. He sighs happily when you give him access to this gorgeous view, stretched out before him, stomach and tits shining gloriously in front of him. He puts his mouth on your bellybutton and licks up to the cavity between your breasts.

“Oh mmm,” he hums, pleased with the sweet taste of your skin. “You are a delicacy amongst gods.”

You flush looking down at his lustful face, sucking on your skin, leaving marks where only he will see. He latches on to one of your nipples, moaning in immense pleasure at the feel of it in his mouth. When he nips at the sensitive skin you jolt, a small disruption in the steady bounce of your bodies.

“Damn,” you curse, words choking in your throat. Your nails dig into Asra’s shoulders as he re-establishes the torturing rhythm that has you shaking desperately against him.

“Let go for me,” he suggests in a sultry whisper that has you reeling with a feverish desire. The pressure in your core is building at an alarming rate as Asra thrusts into you, filling you every time to the point where you can barely hang on.

“I-“ you falter, eyes rolling as you feel that familiar tingle across all your limbs. Oh gods, you can’t stop it now. “Asra, oh fuck, ASRA-!” You scream head thrown back. Your walls clench, and the knot comes undone. It’s amazing, you almost want to laugh in pleasure at the feeling of coming around Asra’s cock. It’s so good you almost forget to breath.

Asra curses under his own breath as he fucks you through your high, barely holding on himself. You bring your head back down and kiss him deeply, tongue joining his. It’s a short lived battle to hang on and in a flurry of short gasps you feel him cumming inside you, unable to stop himself from the uncontrollable waves of pleasure that come from your hot walls clenching around him.

You both continue to kiss each other lovingly, slowing down gradually until you’re sitting on his lap. Eventually, you pull away a couple of inches, looking into your beloved’s eyes.

“Hello,” you say, smiling at your favorite magician. Asra’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, looking at you through hazy eyes. He kisses you again, gently, pleasantly.

“Hello,” he returns, after a minute. He runs his hands up your back, massaging as he goes. “You,” he adds lovingly, “are so beautiful.”

You smile adoringly. “Thank you, Asra.” You remove yourself from his lap and wade through the water towards the collection of bottles on the wooden shelf nearby. You grab a few that you felt suited the two of you best and turned to your lover. Asra had lifted his arms to rest on the sides of the bath and was looking at you with admiration.

“May I wash your hair?” You ask setting down the bottles, but keeping a lilac scented shampoo for Asra. He smiled at you, his face soft and kind.

“That would be amazing, my love.” He said, leaning his head back into the water to dampen it. You squeezed some of the lovely smelling shampoo into your hand and waited. Asra emerged a moment later and kissed you adoringly on the nose.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “For always taking care of me.”

You kissed him back, a peck, before turning him so his back was facing you. You rub your hands into a lather before working them into Asra’s soft hair.

“I always will, forever.” You say softly, happier than ever.

#asra alnazar #asra x reader #the arcana #arcana smut #asra smut #asra lemon #lemons #asra is so hot #I love him #lys writes

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dienamights · 3 years

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Ellipsism | K.Bakugou

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 1.9K

» Genre: Angst

» Summary: In a world where everyone is born with a unique tattoo on their ankle, and every time they fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on the body of the person they love. You come to the realization that it might not be as simple as that, and all your childhood dreams would come and bite you in the ass.

» Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of self-harm.

» Author’s notes: Listen, I don’t particularly like angst, but I love the way it hurts, y’know? Not sure if I want this to have a happy ending or not (in a second part) and honestly I’m leaning towards the latter, I love pain and I have no idea what would happen. Also, peep the “tattoo” in the header its relevant to the story ahaha

Thank you everyone for the support and love, it means the world to me that people enjoyed my Kacchan representation! Lemme give you smooches.

Big smooches to @tteokdoroki and @sightoru for making me feel good about hurting them🤧❤️

» Masterlist | Requests

The sun had awakened and was promptly emerging through the hazy sky. The cloudy layer created a gloomy blanket from the sun. You jolted awake, your neck aching from your sleeping position and you twisted your head side to side to relieve some of the pain, before reaching for your phone and holding the bright screen to your face to check the time. Alas, the screen was turned off without registering the time nor how long were you asleep for.

You lifted your eyes to see the grey out the window in front of you. With that fog, the trees and buildings never ended, they floated upwards, seemingly as endless as beanstalks. Reaching your head back, it met the wooden counter. You were in the kitchen, fell asleep on the floor and slumped against the counters, the empty bottle laying across from you a reminder of the event that transpired the previous night - maybe morning? You didn't really know.

You lazily extended your legs in front of you, eyeing your sock-clad feet and the tattoo that peaked from the clothing. Blooming lilacs that danced and branched out, the stem wrapping around your ankle oh so loosely, almost teasingly. Lilacs that represented happiness and tranquility, which you have never felt more far from.

Remembering the old days, the better days, you with your poofy dress, so blindingly pink it demanded everyone's attention, giggling with your friends that adorned similar attire to yours, showing each other the tattoos that hugged your ankles, in endless shapes and sizes, dreaming about who the lucky person you’ll share your tattoo with would be, who was lucky enough to capture your heart and claim it as their own, and offering theirs in return.

Bedtime stories were your favorite quality time with your mother, where you’d both forget about the story cradled in her hands and you’d spend your night tracing the few tattoos that scattered across her arms. Asking her how could she love so many people and have them love her in return before loving her husband - your father - the only person she was meant to be with, only to wait with bated breath for an answer you already heard so many times you probably memorized it by now. You’d be entranced at the way her eyes always softened, a light gleaming in them as she would explain to you, again and again, with no sign of ever getting bored, how she have never and would never regret the people she loved, because in some twisted way of the universe, it led her to the father of her beautiful child, that snuggled her in her princess bed.

Alas, asking her how you came to the world received a totally different reaction, and you refrained from asking her that again until later on in life.

Whenever your grandma visited, you’d run to hug her old and withered body, apologizing when she would howl about her aching back and dragging her to sit with the excuse to help her rest, but you both knew you wanted to hear stories, your teenage self was so ready to fall in love, so excited to have a piece of someone you adored with all your heart decorating your skin, inking it in the most beautiful forms of promise.

She always made her past lovers sound like prince charmings right out of a novel, the kind of guys with the power and confidence that seemed perfect in every way. The kind of guys schoolgirls woke up and went to school for in the morning. The kind of guys that hit women of all ages right between the eyes every time they were seen and stirred up their fantasies.

And by God, did you not realize that your grandmother wasn't spewing bullshit after all these years, because there he was, a storm in each step he took, fire in his knuckles erupting and seething with fierceness. He was an explosion of bare, raw, real mystery. A soft caress of the wind, warm sand, and pure silence. He was colors and textures and shapes and designs, all combined together in an artistic canvas that thrived for attention but wouldn't stoop to admitting it.

You remembered the day your lilacs embellished his shoulder, shyly peeking through his hero suit, claiming everyone’s attention on their petals as they swayed on his skin, the attention of the media as the shoulder of the hero, Dynamight, was showcased on social media, people envying whoever was able to capture the exploding hero’s heart.

As if he wasn’t capable of love, they didn't see what you saw, they will never have the privilege, because when he dropped the façade of the hero, he’d come home to you, knock on your apartment door and you’d flee to open it to him to lay your eyes on him, a tired laugh, sore muscles, a teasing glint in crimson eyes, golden hair tasseled after a sleepless night. He was secure embraces oozing with warmth. He was toughness and hardness, perfectly mixed in with trust and care.

It was at that day it happened, in the middle of the living room while the newsman was talking nonsense about the hero, the warmth wrapped around your wrist, gripping it like a vice with no intention of letting go; yes it burned, you remembered the sting, it just paled in comparison to the warmth in your chest, the warmth of the tears escaping your eyes as you held your wrist close to your chest, happily whispering about how this was what love felt like. You also recalled that it was at that exact moment the hero, your hero, walked into your apartment, dropping everything and running the small distance to your hunched body to grab at your wrist to inspect the damage he thought was done to it.

Only for his eyes to meet that one wretched inking he loathed all his life, the - meaningless doodles, he’d call them - that blemished his skin, he remembered the remarks, how no one would be able to share that blotch of his with him because who could ever love him? Who could ever endure him, with all of that ego and all of that anger? And as time passed, he believed it, he believed them, that he wasn’t worthy to be loved, that he was only meant to save, not be saved as well, not even from himself.

But there you were, there you fucking were, crying and laughing and struggling to breath as you repeated the words you’ve been dying to confess,

“I love you, Katsuki.”

Suddenly, that speckle that was always hidden under his socks brought him happiness, brought him love, and damn did he deserve it, because he fought for it, he endured hell for it, and there you were, wrapped around his arm and repeating those three words against his lips between heated kisses.

He was pleasure and lust. Rough groans and mutual needs. A burning touch. Your name hanging by his lips, breathless kisses and hair-tugging and hot flesh against hot flesh.

He was an illusion you thought it'll never materialize, and yet here he was.

Here he was, all highs and lows, smiles and frowns, softness and roughness, carefulness and danger. Here he was, a tiny spark of thunder, sparkling with passion, loyalty and dedication, protection, satisfaction, confidence and love.

Here he was…

Where was he?

The inking you used to spend hours admiring now haunts you, the design that used to whirl and twirl across your wrist as you hummed while tracing it now felt like shackles, squeezing so tight against you as you tried to break free. The black almost shrouded by the coats of metallic red that spilled from your attempts of escape. The dark crimson that matches his eyes, the eyes you know you won't forget, you know you don't want to forget, no matter how you’ll feel better if you do.

The girl staring right at you through the distorted reflection created by the dishwasher judged you, all mangled and blurry, yet the tear stains and numb eyes are hard to ignore, easily cutting through the deformed reflection.

You and the girl in front of you envied your friend, the aromantic that was never interested to fall in love, only possessing their own tattoo that graced their ankle, with no one else's accompanying it, sure it looked lonely on some days, but who were you to judge?

You remembered what they always told you, that it wasn't always the fairy tales your family fed you. They told you about their mother, who had an affair and fell in love, spending almost a year hiding the tattoo of her fling from her husband before being caught, they told you how their father was broken beyond repair, he who also was so drunk on the idea of falling in love and being loved in return, just like you were for all those years. They told you of the heart break that you might have to face when your partner’s inking is embedded into you, but not the other way around, how you had to decide whether to wait for your own personal design to mark its location onto them or leave, always being haunted by the part of them that you can't get rid of, no matter what you do.

They never told you about this kind of heartbreak though, the one where you’re both so in love, so happy, destined to be together forever, because what could possibly go wrong?

You never got the answer to that, you remembered asking him as he dragged his suitcase out of the apartment, the tears cascading down his face never answered you as he apologized again and again, mumbled how you deserved to be loved by someone that wasn’t him, babbled about him not deserving you. About how he won’t ever love someone besides you when he caught your eye scanning whatever was visible of his arms, in fear of finding out a piece of someone that wasn't yourself.

You finally got up, legs numb and steps wobbly from sitting on the floor for so long, you eyed the door, still unlocked after his leave a couple of hours ago - maybe more it's still unclear - no urge of yours strong enough to get you up to lock it again. You moved slowly, as if the shuffle of your feet is causing you pain, and in a way, it did, because you know when you reach the living room couch, there won't be the warm arms that engulfed you, because what else did you have other than the warmth you surrounded yourself with when you told him to hold you close to him?

That's right, nothing.

As you laid down on the couch and allowed yourself to be suffocated by the scent of caramel, you cursed at all the fantasies and dreams that clouded your mind day and night, you frowned and scrunched your nose at the scent that used to mean love and warmth, but now only burnt your nose and teared up your eyes.

A constant reminder, just like the defaced wrist you brought closer to inspect and hissing when the cold air bit at it. You recalled the lilacs and swore at them, the same lilacs that symbolized love and passion, but looking more withered and torn the more you looked at them.

Good, guess they know how I feel.

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

#tw: self harm #this shit hurted #i know theres like one sentence of dialog in here #speed past that #I WANTED EMOTIONS #AND PAIN #katsuki angst #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #nami writes

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louiseleblancdiggory · 3 years

Text

Speedy one night stand

Ok, so this is an old scene that i never posted because I never thought it was good enough, but since I wanted to post smth before ‘Tis the Damn Season, here it goes! I’m sorry for any typos, it’s 3 am and I don’t have the patience to proof read rn. There are mentions of a car accident but I swear it is not a sad or angsty scene. It’s bad and not at all a believable situation, but I hope it’s ok enough to be mildly enjoyable!

Aelin was having a spectacular day.

She had woken up around six, laying near the hottest man to ever walk on this Earth. In the previous night, she had drank enough to practically guarantee her a bitch hangover, but apparently her beautiful, silver-haired stranger had fucked it right out of her. A few times.

Not so proudly, Aelin sneaked out of his house without making a single sound. Maybe she should have stayed, maybe asked for his name. But she was also almost sure she had given him her number yesterday, and so if he wanted to continue things, he could call her. If not… Well, it had been a fun night.

Understatement of the fucking century.

And thanks to her stranger, once she got home, Aelin felt energized and inspired enough to finally give the painting a try.

The painting had become Aelin’s nightmare for the past year and a half. She had the idea, had the ability, but didn’t know how to do it, how to tackle it. She tried a few times every few days, and left the room hating it more and more. The painting started to be a mock to her abilities— she would finish other works, beautiful works, and yet the messy canvas would always stare at her from the corner of the room.

Aelin was mainly a sculptor, not a painter, and so she didn’t even know why it bothered her so much but it did. Oh, it most certainly did.

For the past eighteen months, staring at that taunting canvas was like staring at yourself on the mirror for too long. The vision started to blur, and it didn’t look real, evoked a deep panic.

For the past eighteen months, Aelin hated that fucking painting.

And yet, when she got home earlier, all she could think is that she might be able to finish it. The painting was supposed to be of Oakwald, a beautiful forest that extended for the whole expanse of the west of Terrasen. She hadn’t been at home for so long now, and all she wanted was a painting of how she remembered the forest to be. She wanted to capture its light, its life. She wanted it to look exactly how it was in her memory, but the colors never seemed right. Her fondness of the memory was becoming stained with that stupid canvas.

All she needed was the right palette.

And he had walked in a bar and sat by her side yesterday.

Her stranger was the literal embodiment of her memory, so much so that for a split second, Aelin had thought she had gone officially insane. His silver-grey hair was the exact shade of the sky on the cloudy mornings when she and her dad would go for a walk. Eyes a combination of a few shades of green and small specks of brown that reminded her of how the trees were. His demeanor was cold, and yet Aelin found him somehow so welcoming— just like she felt back at Oakwald, back home.

Her stranger had given her the thing she had needed for the past eighteen months, even if he hadn’t given her even his name.

Aelin was staring proudly at the now finished painting when the phone rang. She was glad her roommate wasn’t at home to witness her staring at the painting for that long like a crazy person, and honestly hoped it was Lysandra calling to ask if she wanted to go out and grab something to eat.

Or maybe it’s your stranger.

Aelin forced herself to shove every single spark of hope down until they were nothing more than cinders. To be honest, Aelin knew that she probably wouldn’t get a call from him. It was his first day in town, they both had been drunk, and, even though the sex had been great, her stranger didn’t seem like the dating type.

At least not the dating type with a woman who left his house unannounced at six in the morning after leaving him with no note other than her number that could potentially be wrong since said woman was already tipsy when she gave it to him.

A fucking shame.

“Hey.” Aelin said, putting the phone to her ear as she looked for her car keys. She wanted to be in the elevator by the time the word “eat” left Lys’s mouth.

“Is this Aelin?” A female voice she had never heard in her life asked, uncertainty and hesitation lacing every word.

Aelin withdrew the phone from her ear and looked at the unknown number.

Aelin rarely gave her phone number to strangers, and lately it had only been to…

Oh fucking shit.

He had a girlfriend?

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hum, yes?” Aelin sounded as uncertain as the girl. “I’m sorry, but who is this?”

Maybe it wasn’t what she thought. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe—

“Do you know a Rowan?”

Well.

“Maybe?” Aelin wanted to bang her head against a wall. Almost seven months without touching a guy, and the first one in her way back to the land of the social people had a girlfriend. At least she knew his name now. Rowan seemed fitting, matched his appearance somehow. “Silver hair, green eyes, looks really pissed even when he’s sleeping?”

Please say no.

“Oh, yes.” The woman said, sounding… relieved? “I’m doctor Towers, and—“

“Doctor?” Aelin blurted out, all anger and nervousness being substituted for confusion. “Doctor?”

“Yes. Well, actually an intern since I’m still halfway through my first year here and—“

“I swear I mean no offense, but I am a little confused.” Aelin interrupted her after she started mumbling. “You’re Rowan’s girlfriend?”

“No!” The woman shouted loud enough that Aelin had to take the phone from her ear. “Gods, no. I thought you were his girlfriend.”

A moment of silence passed through the two women.

“What the fuck?” Was everything Aelin managed to say. She cleared her throat, mind trying to catch up with what was happening. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re the only contact on his phone.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“I am.”

“You are.”

“I— Why are you calling me?” Aelin shook her head, her grip on her keys strong enough that started to be painful. She didn’t know if this was some type of joke her friends were pulling on her, or if Rowan was just some sick asshole that was fucking with her now that he had her number but she sure as hell wasn’t enjoying the experience.

“Well, you see.” She cleared her throat, voice tone becoming more serious, more professional. “Rowan was admitted into the Torre’s hospital a few hours ago. He was involved in an accident, and all the emergency contacts we could find are not in town as of now. I know it is not protocol, and I’m breaking so many rules here, but I went through his phone to see if I could find a contact of someone who was around. We didn’t know if his injuries were serious or not, but…”

Doctor Towers didn’t finish the sentence, and dread mixing with some type of anxiety started rolling inside Aelin’s stomach. “But?”

She didn’t respond the question, instead changing the subject. “You’re the only contact, Miss Aelin.”

Aelin slowly sat down, the dead silence of the apartment mixing with the expectant silence from Doctor Towers. She didn’t know the guy, didn’t even know his name until two minutes ago, and yet the image of the painting in the other room kept flashing in her mind, the colors in the canvas mixing with the colors she saw on his face. “I— Is he alive?”

“Yes, yes. He’s in surgery, I believe.” The initial apprehension came back to the woman’s voice. “I don’t know, actually. Again, just an intern. People don’t tell me much here.”

“And I suppose hiding somewhere after stealing a patient’s phone isn’t the best way to pick up on any information they might be sharing in the halls right now.” Aelin said, some amusement for the girl showing through her voice. “Where are you? Storage room?”

“Coma patient room.” Doctor Towers laughed nervously. “I thought I was helping.”

“It’s fine.” Aelin said even though she didn’t feel it.

The line went silent once more, and after a minute, Aelin said. “Well, bye, I guess.”

“Wait.” The doctor’s apprehensive voice sounded again. “Couldn’t you… Can you still come? Even if you’re just his friend?”

Aelin sat frozen on her chair. “I’m not his friend.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Ok. Sorry. Have a great night, Miss Aelin.”

Before Aelin could respond, the call was ended.

—————

The first thing Rowan noticed when he opened his eyes was that he was not at the rented apartment he and the rest of his friends had gotten for the summer.

The lights were too white and too artificial, the bed too uncomfortable to be the same one he had slept the previous night.

And there was also the fact it felt as if he had been thrown from the top of a building, broken every single bone in the impact and, somehow, survived.

He tried opening his eyes a little bit more and acute pain shot to his brain.

Unfortunately. Unfortunately survived.

Shit, maybe he was in hell.

“I don’t know if the struggle is amusing or pathetic.” A low and sultry voice sounded from the left corner of the room. “Maybe try not staring directly into the light and then try opening your eyes.”

Rowan turned his head to where the soft voice had come from, pain burning his neck with the movement but he found himself incapable of not looking at her direction. But the woman was right, and Rowan managed to open his eyes enough to see her seating in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, legs crossed in front of her and fingers laced on top of her stomach.

Rowan mentally scratched his last thought. If he had actually died, that certainly was tilting a lot more towards heaven than hell even with the killing pain.

“Fuck, I think I died.” Rowan blurted out.

“I’ll pretend you just compared me to an angel, not to the devil.” She said, getting up and walking in his direction. Despite her hurt tone, she was smiling as she approached his bed. “It’s the least you could do after you ruined my perfectly perfect day. I was having a blast, you know?”

Hell, heaven, or Earth— it honestly didn’t fucking matter because the pain was the same, but her voice seemed to soothe his muscled, make the pain secondary to the pleasure of listening to her voice.

“Yeah?” Rowan rasped out, hoping she would continue talking.

“Oh, yeah.” She sat by the edge of the bed, straightening his sheets. The light wasn’t so blinding anymore, and he could see every detail on her face.

Heaven. Definitely heaven.

“I’m an artist, you know. Sculptor mostly, but I’m a decent painter. There’s this painting I’ve been trying to get done for over a year now, and today I did not only make progress I liked, but I also finished it. I thought today was going to be a terrible day, you know? Yesterday I found out my flight back home had been canceled and I would only be able to get another one by the end of summer, so I went to a bar and planned on getting drunk. Today was a day for tears and hangovers.”

“But?” Rowan asked automatically, all too focused on the woman sitting next to him.

She smiled, raising a hand to brush his hair from his face, fingers intertwining with the shoulder-length knots he most certainly had after whatever it was that had happened. She seemed too focused on her hand gently undoing the knots, but thankfully kept talking. “But I met this guy, you know? Definitely not from here, accent gave it away immediately. Also not from where I am from. Just that made him interesting enough. And,” she turned her eyes to him, eyes glinting with mischief. “Very, very fucking hot. That definitely made him even more interesting.”

“What a guy.” Rowan could feel some of the life coming back to his body, and even managed to weakly match the grin she had on her face.

“Oh, yes, what a guy. Fucked the hangover and artistic block right out of me. A hero, if you will.” Her grin extended into a smile, and she shook her head. “So imagine how ruined my day was when I got a call saying my amazing bar guy had been in a car accident.”

Rowan let out a broken laugh, his ribs screaming in pain when he did so. “So irresponsible of him.”

She assented solemnly. “And there I was, hoping he would have called me to go out on a date. I’m not picky but hospital is a huge downgrade from mind blowing sex in his expensive apartment.”

Rowan laughed again, not even caring about the pain. “I’m sure the guy would have asked you if you hand’t left the expensive apartment at the crackass of dawn without telling him.”

“And instead of calling he let his car be smashed by a fucking truck to get my attention? Tsk, tsk, tsk… Maybe I didn’t dodge a bullet with this idiot.”

Rowan’s lips were taken by a grin. “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

“Next time try something a little less dramatic.” She said, eyes narrowing but Rowan could see how she was trying to contain a smile.

“The girl really seemed into dramatics tho. Gave it away last night when she—“

“Since I didn’t know your name until your doctor called me, Rowan, I’ll save you the embarrassment of asking mine.” She interrupted him, slender fingers going from his hair to the top of his lips. “I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin.” He said against the finger sushing him. “May I ask how you got here?”

She blushed a little, taking the finger from his mouth and straightening her spine. “I was the only contact in your list. They called me.”

“Lost my phone in the airport yesterday and had to buy a new one. Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, small nose frowning. “You’re very talkative for someone who could barely open his eyes a few minutes ago.”

“Am I?” Rowan said, hoping to push some of her buttons. Consciousness had been coming back slowly, and Rowan certainly remembered every single detail. Remembered being pissed by losing his phone, impatient because he would have to wait two more days for his friends to arrive.

Remembered all the pissy and impatience leaving his body once he sat on the bar by the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had been quick-mouthed, with no filter, and absolutely hypnotizing. She wasn’t just fucking beautiful, but also funny, smart, and had the ability to make him forget every single thing that was making him irritated.

And the rest of the night… It was a shame Rowan was bedridden, he certainly wouldn’t mind reenacting last night again.

And again. And again.

And again.

Rowan had wondered earlier if she had been that amazing because he was drunk. The answer was obviously no.

Aelin pursed her lips, red coloring her cheeks. She cleared her throat, rolling her eyes. “The doctor guilty tripped me.”

“Yeah?” Rowan knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“She said you were in surgery and she didn’t know how serious.” Aelin finally looked him straight in the eyes, and Rowan noticed how beautiful hers were. “No one deserves to have no one in this situation. She said your friends were out of town, and the girl sounded desperate enough that it sounded as if you were fucking died. Again, no one deserves to die alone. Specially someone this good in bed.”

It took Rowan a second to understand everything she had just said. When the last sentence finally registered on his brain, Rowan laughed. Aelin shook her head, a small smile appearing again.

“Also, you’re the first guy I slept with in seven months. Letting you die alone seemed like bad luck.”

“I am honored you put so much consideration into coming to stay with me.”

“Shut it.”

“If it makes you feel less embarrassed—“

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“I would have come too. Make sure my best fuck wasn’t dead.”

“Awn, best fuck? You’ll make me tear up like this, Ro. So romantic.” Aelin pretended to clean fake tears the moment the doctor in darker scrubs and a few on lighter ones entered the room.

“Good to see you awake, Mr Whitethorn.” The man smiled at him, checking his charts. “It’s always good to see wives crying of happiness rather than sadness around here.”

“Of course.” Rowan agreed, turning to Aelin and raising an eyebrow.

“They wouldn’t let me stay if I wasn’t family.” She whispered low enough so that only Rowan would hear. Her face slowly broke into a grin, and she winked at him before turning to the doctor. “So he’ll be fine, right, doctor?”

Rowan had to bite his cheeks from laughing at how obviously fake she sounded, but no one other than him noticed. “Yes, yes. Other than a fracture to his right wrist, your husband is completely fine. Some bruising and soreness that painkillers can help, but nothing major. You two are free to enjoy your vacations when he’s discharged tomorrow.”

“Oh, great.” Rowan said, nodding seriously. “My wife here has just informed me that a hospital is no adequate place for a first date.”

All the people in the room laughed, thinking Rowan meant their first date in Antica.

Not their first date ever.

“I’ll leave you two. Anything you need, ask a nurse and they will page me.” The doctor in darker scrubs said, leaving the room with all the ones in lighter scrubs following.

“Where do you live?” Rowan asked the moment the doctor was out.

Aelin turned to him, fingers going back to his silver hair. “Have been living here for the past two years in an art internship. Going back to Orynth, Terrasen by the end of the summer.” She curled a strand around her finger before looking to his face. “You?”

“Have been and will continue to be a very happy resident of Orynth.” Rowan said, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Definitely happier after the summer.”

“Haven’t even asked me out and you’re already thinking about the end of the summer.” Aelin shook her head and clicked her tongue even though she was smiling. “No surprise you got into a car accident, so speedy.”

His smirk grew into a smile. “My dear wife, would you like to go on a date with me?”

She narrowed her eyes, taking her sweet, sweet time to answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“And, seeing how the doctor talked about all my grave injuries—“

“Grave.” She snorted.

“Do I get kisses to feel better?” Rowan’s tone was full of mockery and some laughter.

“If I kiss every place you’re hurting after being hit by a fucking truck, I think we’d be here for a long while.”

“You didn’t complain yesterday.”

Aelin half laughed, half snorted. Rolling her eyes, she bent forward, and even though she was trying very hard not to, Rowan could see the start of a smile just before she pressed her lips against his. They were sweeter and softer than he remembered, and despite the pain on his arms and specially on his right wrist, Rowan raised his hands and put them in her golden strawberry hair.

“One more thing.” He said against her mouth.

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask for too much?” Aelin said impatiently.

“As our situation is already as fucking weird as it’s gonna get—“

“You don’t say!” Aelin said, voice dripping with so much fake surprise Rowan couldn’t stop but smirk up at her.

“As our situation is already as fucking weird as it’s gonna get,” he repeated forcefully, eyes narrowing at her as her smile widened. “Tomorrow, when my friends arrive.”

“Yes?”

“Can you please still pretend you’re my wife?”

Aelin stared at him blankly for a moment before letting out a full, lovely laugh. The bed shook with her laughter, and Rowan joined her— a little weakly due to the pain, but joined her nonetheless. She bent down to kiss him again, nodding as she did so. “Of course. What type of person would I be if I didn’t help such injured person find some happiness in their lives?”

Rowan kissed her back, fingers playing with her hair. “So this means you’ll go out with me?”

“We’ll see.”

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004 @fromthelibraryofemilyj @rowaelinismyotp

* if your name is in bold i cannot tag you

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shattersstar · 3 years

Text

evergreen

and if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent (part four)

pairing: adrian tepes x reader

excerpt: You were grinning, running through all the most beautiful, fullest, dreamiest of adjectives to capture the face of your love. You tilted your head to the left, and he followed, the two of you grinning at each other with soft, soundless laughs. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling and blinking at him with a new found clarity, the words flowing effortlessly.

warning(s): brief injury mention, fluff, this is so,,hopelessly romantic, heart shape lockets making a reappearance

a/n: sorry ive only been writing for adrian my brain has been in alucard lockdown and it wont end (although this might be my favourite thing ive ever written so i’m..less sorry)

—

It was quiet, the distant din of the forest brushed over the two of you. It was a reminder of the life surrounding the desolate place you called home. Your eyes were closed as you focused on the sound, the breathing of trees and humming of streams. You supposed Adrian heard it all so clearly, the animals and plants alike all alive in the surrounding forest. You strained to hear the crunch of fallen leaves by foxes or snap of fallen branches by deers.

It was autumn and the world was alive with harvest. Animals prepared for winter, plants returned to the soil and tree lines morphed into flame. It was one of the last warm days, the sun high in the cloudy sky, shining onto the picnic you two had set up. You were laying down, letting the sun soak over your while Adrian sat cross legged behind you. Your head was in his lap, the book you were reading was resting on his thigh above your head, opened onto the page you were on. Adrian had brought a book as well, but discarded it after a few minutes of reading. It was out of date, he explained, the science was false and he decided to draw over the useless words instead.

You assumed there was some value in its history, but didn’t question it as he silently sketched. Adrian was always such an artist, often drawing you, or other’s he cared for. He could sketch Sypha and Trevor from memory, yet often butchered some detail of the latter for his own amusement you supposed. He drew his parents often too, but was quick to erase such images, as if even seeing their face was still too painful.

He had begun painting more recently. You liked sitting and working on something while he painted, catching occasionally glimpses at his work. Adrian was never shy about what he created, often showing you without prompting, and never dismissing your request to see his art. He had agreed he was good at it, the technical precision was there, but the heart was not. You were quick to disagree with such sentiment, and yes you could see it within the landscapes and dull memories he created on paper or canvas, but the love was there in the faces of those he cared for.

Each line he added to you, each bit of shading and highlight showcased you in a way that held more adoration than any words could supply. You liked seeing yourself from Adrian’s eyes, seeing your beauty as he perceived it. It was more flattering than anything anyone before him had said to you, not like Adrian would want to hear such things.

You weren’t sure how you knew he was watching, sketching you as you laid in his lap, but you knew he did. You even remained still, forgoing reading to be his muse for the last moments of fall. You didn’t mind getting to lay in the lap of the one you loved, a soft blanket underneath while the sun started to arch towards the west. You could’ve fallen asleep there, nature washing over you and Adrian watching over you. It was a place of peace, a moment you’d engrain into your mind and have a memento—a piece of art to show for it.

You only opened your eyes when Adrian let out an uncharacteristically loud sigh, he didn’t need to breathe, he only did so on his own volition. You peered up at him, sun dancing in his dark lashes. “What is plaguing you so beloved?” You hummed, tilting your head back more as you spoke.

"My chest, it aches.” He admitted with a soft voice. You sat up as his words registered in your ears, worry lacing your features as you moved to sit on your knees, beckoning him closer.

“Still? Why?” He turned his head to the side as your hand smoothed down his slender neck, brushing his collar aside and revealing the tip of the scar that cut diagonal through his torso. You kept your fingers off the injury, but untied the front of his shirt to reveal more of it.

“I am unsure, it just does some days.”

“This has happened before?”

“A few times, yes.” He sighed again, you felt it under your palm that rested next to the pink, raised skin.

“I wished you told me.”

“I did not wish to worry you.”

“And yet I am worried.” Adrian turned towards your other hand, resting on his shoulder and dipped his head down to kiss your wrist. It was a gesture of apology and you accepted it was you let your hand cup his face, lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so.” You frowned, shifting your knees against the blanket. “And somehow I’m not surprised you aren’t pleased with that answer.”

“How can I be pleased when you, my dear, are living in pain?”

“Don’t be pleased then, be appeased.” Adrian shrugged, still speaking into your palm. You let your fingertips graze the edge of his scar before dropping both hands from him.

“If I must.” He chuckled at that, low and warm as your hands found his knees. You gave them a squeeze, almost to check if he still existed before turning, and placing yourself into his lap. You were careful not to lean into his chest, but Adrian eased you against it, his forearm wrapping around your stomach while his other hand brushed your book from his leg. “Now show me what you were drawing.”

“Of course beloved.” He hummed from behind you, picking up his green covered book and letting you flip through the drawings now masking the words. And you were right, many—most were of you.

A few trees, a tired outline of the castle, faces you didn’t know, but still somehow, every few pages was you, lounging in his lap, or from some other memory he stored away. They made you smile, less worried as warmth overtook you.

“Do you ever draw yourself?” You asked once you reached the last sketch, lingering on it.

“No, the image of myself in my mind changes far too often.”

“Oh?” You were surprised by Adrian’s answer, you expected something darker you supposed.

“I see myself one way, and then...I do not. I cannot draw what constantly changes.”

“Why does it change?”

“You.”

One syllable was more breathtaking than a single drawing he had ever done of you.

“Oh.” You found yourself on repeat, closing the book and letting out a slow breath.

“And I supposed other’s I’ve met, but mostly you.” It’s always you, he does not say despite how well it sits in his mouth.

You knew you had impacted Adrian, only a fool would say they didn’t, but to know that the way he constructed himself in his brain, how he felt when he thought of it, how he saw himself in his dreams, how he saw himself with you were all changed by you and how you loved him felt like a deeper proclamation than i love you.

“I still wish you would though, what am I supposed to put in this locket?” Your voice held an air of teasing, but a current of seriousness laced it as well.

“I could try, if you could like.”

You were silent for a moment, you didn’t want him to settle on a version of himself to etch into existence. Not when he was ever changing in his mind's eyes. “What if—“ You twisted carefully to look at him, noses brushing as you did. “What if you drew yourself from how I saw you?” You asked, wanting his art to convey his beauty as it did yours.

Adrian pondered it for a moment, before tilting his head and surprising your lips with his. “Yes.” He whispered against your mouth before finding his book yet again.

You slipped from his lap to give him space and studied him for a long moment. He didn’t shift under your gaze, or look away, but instead studied your back. You were grinning, running through all the most beautiful, fullest, dreamiest of adjectives to capture the face of your love. You tilted your head to the left, and he followed, the two of you grinning at each other with soft, soundless laughs. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling and blinking at him with a new found clarity, the words flowing effortlessly.

Serious mouth, something that hides smiles and fangs. Lips that slope into something heartbreaking—a smile like no other.

He grinned at that, eyes dropping to the page as he began drawing.

Soft eyes, set deep, but still shining. Sharp like daggers and holding handfuls of sunrays in them. Not cold with sadness, but heavy with it.

“Heavy with love too.” He hummed, earning a kiss on his forehead before you settled back to describing him.

Nose…

You paused your words, letting Adrian catch up to your lovely description, while you pondered on it too. You knew this was much for him, so much love filling his ears, outward and heedy. Yet it didn’t feel like enough, like it captured how much his appearances enraptured you, but as his heart did too. You wanted him to see your love through your eyes.

It was a daunting task, and yet you carried on. You reached out, brushing over his nose with your index finger, as if the words lived in your fingertips and could only be released by touch. You furrowed your brows, lips parting before you took Adrian’s hand, the one holding the book. He kept his gaze on you as you brought his slender fingers to his nose, tracing it as you did. You loved all Adrian’s features, but his nose especially, and no words could describe the beautiful feature that pulled his whole face together.

My favourite thing.

He let his attention fall back to the drawing, a bloodless blush could’ve warmed his face with the kind descriptions you imparted onto him. He knew you loved him, you proclaimed it enough, but the sweet words that overtook this dimming autumn day were even more dizzying than he expected. And you weren’t done yet, unrelenting in your words and adoration for him.

Sharp contours—jaw, cheekbones—with an underlying kindness, youthful softness to the angular curves.

Beautiful forehead, my favourite place to kiss. And press myself to.

Brows low, very precise—too serious most of the time.

Hairline like the ocean, framing the sand and sometimes sweeping over it.

You twirled the forever loose curl that hung forward, always draping against his smooth skin. He wanted to lean into your touch, but his attention was on the page.

Hair long, softer than any silk. Golden—not like honey, but wheat fields blowing in the breeze. And thick, with lazy waves throughout it.

You stayed quiet after that, hoping it was enough. You were all warm throughout now, despite how the evening had fallen over you two. You wanted to climb back into Adrian’s lap, but instead you moved to sit cross legged, toying with a loose thread on his pants, twisting the string from the seam by his knee around your finger until his shoulders dropped and the pen stopped moving.

You let your hands rest in your lap, and you watched him study it for a long moment. You wanted to ask if it was okay—some version of him he could agree with, yet he brought the pen back, scrawling something in his tight, professional handwriting and tearing the page from the book with precision.

The drawing took up one corner, the words printed in the background barely noticeable to the bust drawn over them. He folded the piece of paper, once, then twice. A tiny square sitting in his palm, before Adrian finally met your gaze. He reached out, cool fingertips grazing over your neck as he brought your heart shaped locket to sit in his other palm. He used his thumb to open it, placing the piece of paper inside and closing it again.

He kissed the smooth metal before letting it fall back against your sternum, smiling with a haziness that made you feel drunk of love as well. You took his hand in yours, Adrian quick to intertwine fingers before you could settle your palm to his. He urged you closer, uncrossing his legs and letting you take up space between them. “Do you feel better?” You hummed, the pain that had overcome him before not leaving your mind.

It wasn’t like you to forget so easily.

“Hm, better? Yes.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of your nose.

“Are you just saying that?”

“No, of course not.”

“I find that hard to believe, you often dwell in pain my dear. Especially alone.”

“I know,” He sighed yet again, bringing his free hand to your chin and drawing your attention to him. “If you’d like, I believe I have found a way that you can help, make me feel better.”

“Yes, what is it?”

He smiled—heartbreakingly. “Marry me?”

For a quiet beat, you paused, the words reaching your ears, settling in your short term memory before they processed into something that rang forever in your head. You and Adrian had talked about marriage, he had settled on the notion it was a frivolous display and he had everything he needed with you. And you agreed. He was everything you needed.

And now, he needed to be your husband.

You tucked some of his hair behind his ear, leaning in with a low voice, “My love, don’t you know?” You asked, blinking up with a slanted grin, “I’ve been married to you from the moment we met.” He breathed out a chuckle, reedy and low.

“Then,” His palms cupped your cheeks, forehead pressing into yours. “Let me marry you.”

“Yes,” You breathed into him, “Yes you can marry me.”

It was the first day of winter when you finally opened your locket. You unfolded his drawing carefully, the likeness you wanted to convey hung in every inked line. Your fiancé existed in both your hearts now.

Your fingers brushed over the words, creased from the folding, but still clear.

It’s always you, my betrothed.

#adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes imagine #alucard imagine #alucard x reader #castlevania imagine #castlevania #writing #if this doesnt get notes ill boycott writing for all of 2021

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jjungkookislife · 3 years

Note

how bout a 78+73+55 with two beautiful bby buns 🥰🥰🥰

pairing: baby buns!jk x reader

78. “are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

73. “you’re mine, do you understand? You belong to me.”

55. “I’ve missed this.”

tw: flashback, virgin!kook x virgin reader (loss of virginity), marking, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

“I’ve missed this,” Jungkook murmurs against your neck, his nose nuzzled into your skin as his body hovers over yours, not wanting to put his full weight on you.

“Me too,” you say as you stroke his hair, your fingers gently brushing against his ears. He groans against your skin, your name rolling off his tongue in a saccharine moan.

“I’ve missed your scent. I hated being apart from you. I was miserable,” Jungkook admits as he grasps both your hands to pin to the bed as he sits back on his heels.

“Me too. Not being able to see you for a full day was awful. I cried so much,” you frown as you shake your head to clear the memories. “What an awful wedding tradition. I should be able to see my husband-to-be the day before our wedding. Luck be damned.”

Jungkook chuckles, “I agree. I missed you terribly. We’re past all that now, baby. It’s our wedding night and I plan on making it memorable.”

“Oh?” You smile, nerves bubbling in your stomach. A bashful smile appears on Jungkook’s face, “yeah.”

In all honesty, Jungkook had been nervous about tonight. You were mates, and sure, you have fooled around before, but you never went all the way. You were both virgins, both eager for your wedding night and for Jungkook to mark you as his mate, sealing your bond forever.

It was a lot to take on, but your love for him overcame all your worries as you kissed him, losing yourself in him.

Jungkook resisted the urge to thump his foot as the kiss grew deeper, excitement thrumming in his veins. He wanted you desperately, needed to fill you.

“Jungkook,” your moan of his name draws his attention, his hand cupping your face. “Touch me, baby. Make love to me.”

Jungkook’s erection throbs at your words, his heart racing in his chest as he caressed your cheek.

“Are you sure? Once we start, I might not be able to stop.” Jungkook warns, his tongue peeking between his lips to lick them. His hand reaches for yours, his thumb running over your wedding band. A low growl escapes him, you’re his. His mate.

“Please, Jungkook,” you plead, your lips capturing his. Jungkook immediately kisses you back, moaning softly as his hands caress every bit of your body as he slots himself between your legs. You automatically wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as your hands run down his muscular back.

Jungkook blushes, his fingers tracing the scalloped detailing of your lingerie, cupping your breast. His delicate touch has you keening, a soft smile on your lips as he tugs the lingerie down to expose your breast.

“I’m going to mark you right here,” he whispers, his finger circling the spot on the swell of your breast. You nod, pulling him down to you to kiss him. Jungkook rocks his hips against you, soft moans escaping him.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, groaning when your fingers brush his ears. “I need you., baby.”

“I love you,” you respond, loving the way his soft lips trail kisses from your jaw to to your neck and down to your breast. His tongue licks your skin, his teeth gently biting down until he breaks skin.

“Kook!” You gasp, arching into him as a slight pain runs through you. Jungkook is quick to kiss you all over, focusing on your cheeks and nose before he’s nuzzling into your neck.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine!” Jungkook breathes, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he holds you tight, forcing himself to look at your breast to see his mark permanently engraved on your skin.

A rough kiss takes you by surprise, Jungkook holding your face in his hands as he feels the overwhelming love and lust of his sealed bond. A crazed look crosses his eyes as he quickly strips you of your lingerie, leaving it in pieces to litter the floor.

A deep blush spread across Jungkook’s cheeks, admiring the beauty of your body for the first time. You’re bashful beneath him, unable to make eye contact with him. Jungkook had seen you naked from the waist up or the waist down, but never both... until now. It was definitely a pleasant sight. Jungkook’s ears twitched, his nose scrunching as he smiled widely, “so beautiful. Such a pretty mate.”

“Jungkook,” you breathe his name, your hand reaching to unbutton his shirt, dragging it down his arms to discard over the side of the bed. Despite his best efforts, his excitement is through the roof and his foot begins to thump.

“Fuck,” he curses, grabbing your hips before he leans over you, his hair falling over his eyes before he kissed you once again. Fueled by lust and desire, your hands make quick work of his pants, shoving them down his thick thighs alone with his boxers. Your hand wraps around his dick, drawing a moan from your husband that sends tingles down your spine.

“Baby,” Jungkook whimpers, overwhelmed by the scent of your arousal, wanting nothing more than to be buried nose deep between your thighs. Regretfully., Jungkook unwraps your hand from his cock to free himself as he trails kisses down your body until he’s gripping your thighs and pressing kisses and nips on both of them. The sweet sound of your moans spurs him on as he licks and teases you enough to drive you wild until you’re near tears begging him to touch you.

A smug smile appears on his lips as he licks a broad stripe along your folds. He keeps one hand on your thigh, the other he uses his fingers to spread your folds and moan when he sees how wet you’ve become.

“Jungkook...” his name sounds so sinful rolling off your tongue. Your hips chasing his tongue in search of pleasure as he dips back between your thighs, lips gently suckling your clit. Your hand tangles itself in his hair, mindful of his ears as you tug at the locks.

“More,” you whimper, feeling him slip one of his fingers inside you. Your thighs tremble and your breathing growing ragged. You moan again, your thighs spreading further as a second finger pushes into you, curling inside you as his tongue swirls around your clit.

Jungkook knows your body well enough by now to know the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, He notes the way your voice gets an octave higher, the change in your breathing, the way you grip his hair and writhe beneath him as your eyes squeeze shut and a weak moan of his name fills the room before you’re overcome with pleasure.

Jungkook continues his ministrations, groaning against you as your orgasm has you squeezing his fingers, pulsating around them and he so desperately wishes it was his cock inside you instead.

“Kook... Kookie,” you sigh, head lolling back as you try to gather yourself enough to release the death grip you’d had on his hair. Jungkook chuckles, his ear twitching, thankful to have some room to move again.

“Was that good?” he asks meekly, slowly pulling his fingers out of you to pop them into his mouth, his tongue licking them clean as his eyes remain locked with yours. The sight is erotic, your legs quivering at the anticipation of what’s coming.

“S-so good,” you stutter as your chest rises and falls. “Kiss me.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice as his lips brush against yours in a gentle kiss that soon deepens and grows passionately. His hips rock against yours, his cock hard and ready to push past your wet folds. He grunts, eyes squeezed shut as his lips plant kisses on the column of your throat. His foot thumps, his hips circling yours as he grabs his cock, teasing your entrance with the head.

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails lightly digging into his skin as he kisses you before pushing in. You gasp, biting your bottom lip as he slowly pushes into you, filling you fully after a few moments.

Jungkook grunts, sweat beading on his brow, his eyes shut and his breath caught in his throat. So warm, so wet... so fucking wet. He cries your name, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he releases a guttural groan.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, your fingers twined in his hair as you pull him into a kiss. There’s a slight discomfort, but it passes when Jungkook cautiously begins to move. He studies your face, reading it for any signs of discomfort.

“I love you. I love you...”

“I love you,” you whisper back in response, your hand caressing his cheek as he pulls out a bit, only to push back in. You curse; your hand in his, squeezing it as he kisses each of your fingers before he’s picking up the pace, mindful to be gentle until you’re moaning his name.

Jungkook loses himself in you, in your touch, in your scent, in the essence that is you. He’s overwhelmed with emotions and lust, his mind cloudy, but the shine of your wedding band catches his attention and a deep growl rips through him.

“You’re mine, do you understand? You belong to me.” You’re eagerly nodding your head in agreement, your nails dragging down his muscular back, leaving pink streaks on his skin. You’re not surprised by bit bout of possessiveness, knowing hybrids tended to be possessive when it came to their mates, you being human makes him take it up a notch. An unclaimed mate (especially a human), was seen as available until the mate had their partner’s bond.

Jungkook didn’t care if the bond was official now. You were his, and he was yours, and that’s the way he liked it. Your wedding ring would (hopefully) ward off any humans, and your mate bond would ward off all hybrids.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Yours,” you answer in response, earning a rough thrust from him as he pins your hands onto the pillow on either side of your head. Jungkook kisses you, muffling your moans as he fucks you harder, deeper. Your legs tighten around his hips, pulling him deeper as you tighten around him, moaning and arching into him as he holds you close.

“Baby,” you breathe in an airy tone. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook grunts in response, biting back a moan as he pushes in deeper, loving the warmth of your cunt wrapped around him. It’s so overwhelming, he knows he won’t be able to go much farther. You overwhelm all of his senses, everything becoming too much as a fiery heat spreads throughout his body as your moans grow louder, back arching as you orgasm.

His name tumbles from your lips in cries and whimpers, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure courses through you. Jungkook finds it impossible to look away from your face, loving the fucked out look on your face that appears at the apex of your orgasm.

Jungkook grunts, he’s close, and he just needs a little more to get off with you. He grabs your hips, holding you steady as he thrusts in and out of you, “touch me.”

Your hands caress his face but he shakes his head, “my ears. T-touch my ears.”

You’re endeared by his stutters, noting the blush that appears on the apples of his cheeks, a bashful look on his face. He keens at your touch, moaning as your hands stroke his ears. A deep guttural groan escapes his pretty lips, cursing as cums inside you. He’s breathing rather hard, his thrusts keeping the pace as he fucks you until he’s spent.

“Fuck!” he exclaims, eyes squeezed shut as his foot thumps, making you smile. Your hands cup his face, your thumb caressing his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath.

“That was amazing,” you giggle as you lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with an incredulous smile on your lips.

Jungkook chuckles, carefully pulling out of you, stopping momentarily to admire the mess he’s left between your thighs. A surge of pride fills his chest as he lies beside you, pulling you into his arms, “right?!”

You press a kiss to his chest, snuggling into his side as his finger traces the mark on your breast; his mark.

“Can we do it again?” Jungkook asks, wiggling his eyebrows and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. You laugh, pushing him away as you begin to feel the soreness set in.

“Down boy,” you tease with a smile, your hand laced with his.

Jungkook huffs out a laugh, kissing the top of your head, “I’m just saying... I’ll be ready when you are.”

You look between your bodies, shaking your head when you see his cock twitch, already half hard and ready to go again.

“You’re insatiable!” you laugh, and Jungkook grins as your hand moves down his chest until it’s wrapped around his cock, languidly stroking him.

“Only when it comes to you.”

#Anonymous #i hope the keep reading works #jjungkookislife drabble game #two beautiful baby buns drabble jjk #requests are closed im just finishing the ones from last night!

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melwilson · 3 years

Text

artwork

frank castle x reader

warnings: none. just fluff. definitely my favorite imagine i’ve writen in awhile.

•••

An art student. That’s who Frank had unintentionally fallen in love with. A woman who was the living, breathing definition of art. A woman who lived with such elegance and was the reason the phrase, beauty and grace, had been invented. Frank wasn’t sure how he managed to peak your interest or what he had done to deserve you. You were too good for him. Too pure. Too kind. And yet, someone as beautiful as you loved a man as broken as him.

He watched you intently as you worked. Your final art project was due at the end of the week and you had been working on it for the past month. It was supposed to be a realistic portrait using any medium of your choice. You had chosen charcoal. It was your favorite. Frank would often find used charcoal sticks scattered about in your small apartment. A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes scanning your frame. Frank loved seeing you in your element. You were sitting at your countertop surrounded by various art supplies. Your bottom lip was tugged between your teeth, eyebrows knitted in concentration. You were clad in one of Frank’s tee shirts- that was much too big for your frame- and a pair of spandex. Your hair was pulled away from your face, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose. In that moment, you had never looked more beautiful...to Frank at least.

You could feel his intense stare as you finished some minor details and added a few finishing touches. You glanced at him, meeting his brown eyes. His eyes were one of the few ways you could read him. You could often decipher between the sadness, anger, brokenness that lingered in his chocolate orbs. Right now, however, there was contentment..maybe even a hint of happiness.

Frank had been staying with you for the past couple of months. He had gotten a new construction job and was attending his meetings with Curt regularly. He was doing...okay. And okay was good.

“You almost done?” Frank asked. His voice was gruff from not speaking for a few hours.

“Yeah,” you replied back softly. You had been working for almost four hours and hadn’t allowed Frank to come near you. You wanted your project to be a surprise and you didn’t want him to lay his eyes on it until you were done. “Give me a few more minutes.”

You pushed your glasses up with the back of your hand before beginning to work again. Frank always admired your effort, determination, and rigor. You were hardworker. You knew that to get what you wanted, you would have to work for it. When you had first met Frank, you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into. And you wanted it. You wanted him. Every piece of him. And you got him. It took months though. Frank didn’t want you getting involved with him...with his life. You had such a bright future. You had dreams and goals and Frank didn’t want to ruin those for you. He didn’t want to be a burden. He was broken, so broken. A piece of shattered glass, with missing pieces, incapable of being put back together again. You, you were a daisy. Fragile, yet beautiful, with a heart that shined as bright as the sun.

God, she’s pefect.

Frank’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running water. You were finally done and needed to get the layers of charcoal dust off your hands. Once you could finally see the color of your skin, you shut off the water and wiped your hands off with a dry towel. Frank’s eyes took you in as you padded over to him. Your legs moved to either side of his waist, straddling him as you sat down on his lap.

“Hi,” your voice was airy and light.

“Hi.” You savored the feeling of Frank’s hands running the length of your thighs. They were calloused and rough, but they were warm. “You done?”

You nodded, taking note of the fading bruises that littered Frank’s face. They were the same ones from a few weeks ago meaning Frank hadn’t been out in a little while. It made you feel better. You often worried that when Frank walked out your door, he wouldn’t return. You let your hands fall to his shoulders, thumbs rubbing small circles against his skin. His skin was seemingly tan against white ribbed tank top that covered his torso. “I’m sorry I took so long. I just wanted it to be perfect.”

The large man pressed a soft kiss to your lips before nuzzling his head into your neck. “Can I see?”

“Yeah. Come on.” You got up, pulling Frank to his feet. “You have to close your eyes though.” You led the man to the kitchen, stopping him in front of the counter. You wrapped an arm around Frank’s waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Open.”

“Y/n...”

“I was supposed to capture someone who was really important to me. You are the most important person in my life, Frankie.”

Frank was speechless. He knew you were good, your artwork was displayed all over your apartment. But he didn’t know you were this good. He was literally staring back at himself. It was an older look of his. Full beard, long hair...the hippy look. You loved that look.

The portrait was perfectly imperfect, just like Frank. A few bruises and scratches littered his face, but there was a small smile playing on his lips, nonetheless. His eyes, though black and gray in the portrait, held a certain kind of look. It was heavy. The eyes of someone who had seen too much, but there was a certain sparkle...hint of happiness? It was perfect. And it was Frank. Your Frank. The man you were head over heels in love with.

“Do you like it?” There was a nervousness in your face as you awaited Frank’s answer. He pressed a soft kiss to your hairline, a sigh escaping his lips.

“Why me?”

You snuggled into Frank’s side, dwelling in his warmth. “Because you’re all I got. You truly are the most important person to me. And I love you.”

The large man tilted your head up to his, leaning down to connect your lips together. Even after a year, the feeling of his lips on yours still made you weak in the knees. He made your heart race and your head cloudy. He gently leaned you up against the counter, hands tugging at your waist. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.”

You leaned back, resting your hands on either side of Frank’s face. That was the first time Frank had said those three words to you. You expressed your love about six months into the relationship. You also knew of Frank’s past and you knew he needed time. And you would wait. For Frank you would wait forever. He didn’t understand why. You deserved someone who wasn’t broken and a mess, yet you wanted him.

“Say it again,” you muttered, pulling the man close.

He kissed you again, this time harder...faster, more desperate. He poured every ounce of him into this kiss. He wanted you show you just how much he loved and adored you. It honestly terrified him what he would do for you. Every feeling of fear, love, contentment...so many emotions poured out of Frank and into the kiss. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you more. You really are a work of art, baby. I promise to tell you that every day until I die.”

taglist: @hellishseaqueen @calif0rnia-lovers

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #pete castiglione #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel imagine #jon bernthal #marvel

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speirstookmysoul · 3 years

Text

love songs to a stranger - eugene roe x fem!reader

Hello darlings! You are all looking gorgeous today!

We have a Gene Roe fic today. I am surprised at how productive I have been. Two fics on the same weekend? Wild.

Rating: NC-18.

Word Count: 3.6k

Content Warning: 18+ Content below the cut. Minors please do no interact.

All depictions are based on the actors’ portrayals as shown in the 2001 HBO miniseries. No disrespect is meant to the real people who served during World War II that these portrayals are based upon.

These men (and women) are truly the greatest heroes ever known. I thank each and every one of them for their service and their bravery.

Paris was a beautiful city. His sisters would be jealous that he’d seen Paris before them and would likely badger him for details if he ever wrote home about it.

‘The City of Love’, they had once sighed over a book with pictures of the city that their grandmère had bought for them with thoughts of marriage and a romantic honeymoon to France in their heads when Eugene came home for lunch. His parents had exchanged fond looks with each other, his brothers had gagged, and Eugene had simply shook his head at his sisters, taking his simple bread and cheese sandwich and leaving to go back to work.

He arrived in Paris with a group of three more from Easy on a 48-hour weekend pass and went his own way while they wandered off after they had secured hotel rooms. Eugene wandered through the streets of Paris for hours, taking everything in from the hustle and bustle of the cafes to people wandering the streets. Whenever he came across street performers or beggars, Eugene gave them money. He spent the day like that, wandering to and fro through the city as the cloudy skies and daylight gave way to dusk and street lamps unlit from blackout orders.

He was walking along the path, looking at the shadow of Notre-Dame across the canal when he bumped into someone. His hands shot out to steady who he had run into, and he heard a something clatter to the ground. Eugene met your surprised face with his own and looked down at his feet the same time you did, seeing a handbag on the ground.

“I’m terribly sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You were saying as you regained your balance, stooping down to pick up your bag. Eugene found himself doing the same; your hand ghosted over his when he had your bag in his hand.

He offered it to you with a smile. “Pardon. I was not looking where I was goin’.”

You smiled, shoulders shaking with a laugh as you both stood up. You took back your handbag, hanging the strap on your elbow. You wore a grey-blue skirt and jacket, a garrison cap placed neatly on your head in between carefully pinned curls. The red cross on the cap and the patch on your left shoulder told him you were in the Red Cross’s Motor Corps.

He realized he was being impolite by staring and decided to give you his name. “Eugene Roe.” He said, offering to shake your hand. You smiled accepting his offer. You smiled like you knew how and when the world was going to end and gave him your name.

He wasn’t sure what happened, or why, but something in his mind clicked as he talked to you and Eugene found himself sitting with you on that stone ledge with Notre-Dame de Paris looming across the canal. Eugene found himself smiling and laughing more than he had in a long time. It was easy to talk to you; your eyes invited him in to speak without fail about anything and everything that came across his mind in a way that hadn’t happened since before Camp Toccoa and the smile you gave him a pulse of excitement.

When the skies turned black, Eugene offered to escort you back to your hotel. On the way back, still you two talked, never running out of things to talk about. The trees, the birds, the water, the streets. It was when you arrived at your hotel that he realized it was the same one he was staying in too. He walked up the stairs with you, smiling and laughing until you reached your room on the floor below his. He stood a respectful distance back as you unlocked the door.

Eugene exchanged goodbyes with you, a heaviness in his heart that he recognized. He was four steps away when you called out to him. With your door halfway open, you stood in the doorway looking down the hall at him. You invited him inside for a nightcap. The bite you took of your lip told him that it wasn’t about a drink before bedtime.

Gene went into your room with you, the door closing behind you before you went about pouring two glasses of brandy. His hand grazed over your fingers when you handed him the second glass. Maybe it was the brandy, maybe it was what he had been feeling all night. Whatever it was, it led Gene to pressing his lips to your gently, the taste of brandy on your mouth. The glasses were set down on the dresser, and you kissed him again, deeper and longer than the small peck on the lips Gene had dared.

It was a slow heat burning between you. You kissed him so sweetly, so gently. Your hands pulled at his tie, loosening it slowly as you played with the buttons of his shirt. Eugene had been slowly gathering your skirt up, exposing your legs slowly. His fingers occasionally brushed against your stockings, and the elastic suspenders on your thighs. When he felt the smooth sensation of your skin, he drew back, finding your lipstick smeared from his kisses.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked.

Eugene smiled, shaking his head. “No. No. I want to continue.” He emphasised this by pulling you against his hips, where his cock was starting to press against his pants. You let out a shaky breath, head falling against his shoulder as you rocked into him. Eugene bit his lip. “I need to go back to my room for a condom.”

You nodded. You kissed him again, chastely. Eugene lingered, kissing you again. You laughed against his mouth, shoving at his shoulders. “Go!”

You walked him to the door while biting your lip. Your lipstick left red stains on your teeth. Eugene was sure his mouth was stained similarly. He gave a mock salute as he went out the door and proceeded to hurry to his room on the floor above yours. He managed to avoid anyone going into his room, retrieving the tin that was issued to every soldier. He slipped it into his pocket and hurried back to your room. He counted his blessings when he stepped onto your floor again; he had run into no one on his way down or on his way back to your door.

Eugene knocked on the door, shifting uncomfortably. The door opened, your head peeking around it. Your hair was unpinned and freshly brushed out; it was longer than the pinned curls had let on, falling past your shoulder and you’d removed your lipstick.

You smiled when you saw him, opening the door for him to step through. He saw your dress hanging up on the door to the bathroom with your bra and knickers draped over the top of the door beside it, and your shoes set out by the bed. He took off his jacket, draping it over the lone chair in the room. He turned and found you standing by the closed door in just your slip. Eugene held his hand out to you and you practically skipped towards him, taking his hand in yours. He tugged you towards him, catching you when you lost your balance for a moment. You were laughing and smiling, and Eugene had to smile too.

He peppered kisses to your face, light feather touches that made both of you smile when you tried to return his kisses, only for him to kiss another spot. He noticed a silver cross hanging from your neck on a delicate silver chain. Eugene ran his finger over the cross, feeling the outline with his fingertip. You took his hand in yours, your nails tracing a relaxing pattern into his palm as you smiled up at him. You kissed the palm of his left hand, and then kissed his finger tips. Heat curled through Eugene as he felt himself melt into you. He pressed a kiss to where your pulse beat against your neck, listened to your sigh and felt your nails gently scratch at his scalp. He groaned, eyelids fluttering as he kissed up your neck to capture your lips into another kiss.

His hands wound through your hair, fingers curling as he tilted your head back. You leaned against him, relying on him to keep you on your feet as you swayed. He swayed with you, a hand leaving your hair to grasp your hip. You sighed breaking away for air, but didn’t go far. He felt the heat of your breath against his face. Eugene turned his head to kiss you again, enticing you into a deeper kiss of dancing tongues and wet gasps for air.

He felt you loosening the knot on his tie, using it to pull him closer to your height.

You still swayed, like you were dancing to the rhythm of unheard music. Or maybe it was blood rushing, hearting pounding that you swayed to. That had it be it, Eugene decided, when he fell into swaying with you, letting you lead him in a near dance as he stepped back and you stepped forward; the rhythm matched that of his heart and the blood rushing veins as he slowly pulled your slip up and over your head letting the silk fall to the floor as he felt the edge of your bed on the backs his knees. Eugene sat down, pulling you to stand between his legs.

He pressed a kiss to your belly, sighing as he felt your hands run through his hair. Eugene looked up at you, pulling you further until you sat astride his lap. He kissed you again, a warmth settling into his bones as you rocked your hips, sighing into your mouth. He gathered your slip in his hands, the silk feeling like water as he raised it slowly exposing more of your skin. The silk went over your head, your hair tickling his face and Eugene pressed a kiss to the top of each breast.

You moaned, clutching the back of his head as he licked the curve of your breast. You pulled his shirt from his trousers, reaching where your body was pressed against his to get the last of the buttons undone. His shirt joined your slip on the floor. Gene laid back with you over him, hands drifting from your hips to squeeze your thighs. You shifted to balance your weight above him on an elbow, your hand drifting down to touch him through his trousers.

Eugene couldn’t help the moan that left his throat at the feeling of your fingers tracing him. You kissed him and his hand tangled in your hair, turning messy. You sighed, pulling at his belt buckle and then making a frustrated noise, pulling away to sit on his thighs. Eugene watched through hazy eyes as you undid the buckle and worked at the buttons on his trousers. It didn’t sit right with him, that you were doing the work of undressing him, so Eugene sat up. He wrapped an arm around your waist when you nearly lost your balance. He kissed you again, rolling so you laid on your back next to him. Eugene’s feet touched the floor as he pulled off his pants.

He caught the movement of your thighs parting, and he watched, trailing his up from your calf to the dense curls that laid between your legs. He shifted to his side, curling a hand under your thigh and looking up at you, licking his lip. You bit yours, breath rushing out as you realized what he wanted to do. At your nod, Eugene pressed a kiss to your stomach, sliding off the bed and onto his knees, kissing up your thigh. When your legs opened to accommodate his presence there, he traced a finger over your sex, feeling the wetness of your curls.

Eugene groaned, pressing past the hair and touching your sex properly. You breathed out a sigh, legs spreading more as he touched you carefully, pressing kisses to your thigh as he got shuffled closer. You let out a low moan when his tongue first touched you. His hand trailed up your thigh, over your hip, drawing circling patterns similar to what his tongue did. As you got closer, and more vocal, your hand took his. Eugene eased you into your orgasm, licking you gently and leaving your sex with a parting kiss.

He didn’t rejoin you on the bed, instead dug into the pocket of his trousers for the tin of condoms. He grunted as he rolled the protection on, unable to help the buck of his hips into his own hand.

“Eugene.” He turned to look at you, finding you smiling at him with your legs still spread. You crooked a finger at him. “Come here.”

Eugene took the invitation, crawling over you as you adjusted so you were lying back against the pillow and settling himself between your legs. One curled around his, your heel hooking on his calf. You pulled him down into a kiss, mewling at the taste of yourself on his lips and the wetness that was drying on his face. Your fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck and Gene moaned into your mouth, slipping his hand between the two of you, gripping his cock as he sought to catch against you. He eased himself in, shoulders shaking as you sighed, head falling back and your lips leaving his.

It was like the rocking of a ship on a calm sea, a slow epp and flow of hips rocking to and fro. You mewled, unable to decide where to place your hands. You touched his hair, his shoulders, his arms as you panted with him. You were warm and so soft, the world outside this hotel room was gone from his mind. He didn’t think of the war, his only thought was you and how you felt, how you reacted when he licked at the skin below your jaw. Electrifying tingles and warm buzzes spread through Gene’s body as he rocked gently into you.

Eugene pressed a kiss to your shoulder, moaning against your skin. You breathed out an airy moan, hands running through his hair as your head pressed back into the pillow, back arching. He rubbed circles into your hips with his thumbs, kissing across your chest. A keen came out of you as you slumped into the bed, letting out little sighs as Eugene kept going, seeking out his own pleasure. He increased his pace, pulling up your leg by the knee to give himself more room. When Eugene came, he pressed his face between your neck and the pillow, muffling his moan, open mouthed and teeth dragging on your skin. He shook as he pumped his hips against you, barely catching himself from collapsing on top of you.

You sighed, smoothing back his hair and running a hand up and down his sweat-slicked back. Eugene shifted, his arm going numb from how he had it pressed into the bed. You moaned in protest, burying your face against his neck. He smiled, kissing the top of your head as he shifted off of you, settling on his side. Gene took off the condom, grunting as he dropped it into the wastebin beside the bed.

He watched as you got up, stretching as you went. Eugene took you in from the only mirror in the room. He couldn’t see much in the dark cast of the room, only seeing the shadowed figure of you in the mirror. You came back to lay down beside him and Eugene rolled onto his side, wrapping an arm around you. He sighed as you settled into a comfortable position. You were tracing patterns on his back as he fell asleep.

He woke up the next morning to the sound of running water and violins playing down in the streets. Sunlight was coming through the curtains and the sheets were drawn up to his chest; he’d been tucked in. Eugene blinked, rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs over the side, sitting on the edge of the bed with the bedsheet around his waist. His clothes had been folded and placed neatly on a chair with his boots next to it. Eugene blinked, remembering what happened last night and flushing. The bathroom door opened and you came out, wearing your slip and underthings, drying your hair with a towel. You stopped in the doorway, smiling at him.

“You’re awake.” Eugene nodded. “I’ve got the water running if you want a bath.”

He did. He stood up, stretching, discarding the sheet. You bit your lip as he walked past with his stack of clothes in hand, stopping him to press a kiss to his cheek. Eugene took a moment to breathe in the smell of soup and what must have been your perfume.

When Eugene came out from his bath dressed and his hair combed, you had pinned up your hair and were dressed with your shoes on. You were struggling with the clasp of your necklace.

“Let me.” He stepped up behind you, carefully taking the necklace from you. It was an old-style clasp, shaped like a fish-hook on one end. You moved your hair out of the way as he secured the necklace around your neck. Eugene rested his hands on your shoulders. “There.”

You turned, looking up at him through your lashes. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

You both went about finishing dressing. He had finished putting on his service jacket and cleared his throat to get your attention. Gene smiled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “About last night,” he said, “my father said that I should buy a lady dinner first.”

“I think we’re well past that point, Mr. Roe.” You teased, placing your cap on your head neatly.

Eugene grinned, offering you his arm. “How does breakfast sound then?”

“Lead the way.” You hook your hand on his elbow.

After having breakfast at a cafe, Gene again found himself spending time with you. He walked through Paris with your hand on his elbow and you pressed into his side. From the outside looking out, the pair of you must have given off the appearance of long-time sweethearts instead of two people who had just met the previous day.

He spent the whole day with you, and the whole night again too, once he went back to his room for a moment. There was no sex this time, when he laid in the too small bed that was meant for one person with you, your legs entangled with his. He pressed kisses to your face and hands, smiling back at you until you both fell asleep.

You had a small bag with you; he’d watched you pack it last night before he’d left to collect his things. Eugene carried your bag and his down to the train station. He waited with you until your train arrived and began accepting passengers. You hesitated next to him, pulling a notebook out of your pocket and a pencil, scribbling something down. You tore the page out, folding it up and offering it to him as he handed over your bag.

“In case you want to write.” You smiled softly. There was a fond look on your face, and Eugene was sure he had the same expression.

He took the paper, taking your hand. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles and grinned when you did. Eugene stood there as you boarded and still stood there until the train rolled away. He saw you waving out of a window and waved back.

“Hey Doc! Where’ve you been? Ain’t seen you since we arrived in Paris!”

“You get distracted by a dame?” They teased.

Eugene didn’t answer, simply smiling to himself while they talked amongst themselves, trying to guess where he’d been for the past two days. Eugene looked at the paper you’d given him; it had your rank, your first, middle, and last name, and where you were stationed. He wrote a letter to you, following the trend from the previous two days. He wrote about everything and nothing.

After finishing that letter, Eugene then found himself writing a letter to his mother. That he’d met a girl in Europe and thought he’d fallen in love. His mother would be over the moon, he knew, sharing it with her friends from church. His sisters would no doubt write several letters to him demanding details, both being romantics at heart, one in her early twenties with a baby and the other a seventeen year old. Eugene didn’t get to read any letters from his family or see if there was a reply from you when the next round of mail came through; he was living day to day, moment by moment in the frozen hell of Bastogne.

In Foy, when the ambulances and jeeps were able to make it out to the line to transport the wounded, he heard a familiar voice; one he didn’t know he’d missed hearing until then.

“Need a lift?”

He turned and saw a familiar face hopping out of the driver’s seat of an ambulance; there was a smile that seemed to know how the world would end. Eugene couldn’t help himself; in the cold, in the aftermath of violence outside Foy, he laughed and grinned.

“It’d be kind of yo’, ma’am.” He smiled.

You grinned, eyes glittering. “Climb in and hang tight. I tend to go fast.”

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

tagging: @tvserie-s-world, @i-reblog-fics-i-like, @lightsabove, @saritanotserena, @desertblessingoceancurse25

#eugene roe #eugene doc roe #eugene roe x reader #eugene doc roe x reader #gene roe #gene roe x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #hbo war

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starrywhump · 3 years

Text

Ok whump idea with a little comfort mixed in, hope y’all enjoy!

CW: consensual nsfw(making out that is quickly over), swearing.

The whumpee rolled over in their bed, throwing their blanket down to their feet.

It was too hot, sweat stuck to their hair and face.

They reached out, blindly grabbing for their phone on their bed side table. The bright light from their device made the whumpee squint. It was only 10:17.

A few text notifications shone on the screen, the whumpee ignored them, just as they had every text they had got over the last week.

They were all the same, some variant of:

Hey how are you doing?

Are you doing ok?

I’m here if you need to talk.

Every single one a reminder of everything the whumpee did not want to think of right now.

They dropped their phone, nothing on there was going to make them feel any better.

With a groan they pushed themself off their bed, their body was sore. They were still dressed from the day before, jeans and and a grey sweatshirt.

The whumpee’s head swam as they stood, they ignored it, walking out into the hall, leaning against the wall to make their way to the living room.

They stumbled over to their couch, collapsing down onto the soft seat. Next to them lay a half finished bottle of whisky, just where they left it earlier that evening. It was about 6, they thought, when they had put it down. The nice calm it had brought them earlier had faded. Painful memories started to edge back into their mind.

“What a pretty little thing you are.”

“n-no pl-lease...”

“Oh little thing-”

“NO!” The whumpee yelled, shooting up from the couch. They panted softly, having to convince themselves they were just in their living room.

Reaching back they grabbed the whisky and opened it quickly. They took a long drink, relishing the warm burn that radiated through their chest.

Their head was still too loud. It was too quiet in their apartment to drown it out. They had to get out.

**********

“What can I get you?”

“Anything, you chose. Just make it strong,”

The whumpee had never been much of a drinker, not until recently that is.

The bartender nodded, turning to make the whumpee’s drink.

The whumpee frowned, trying to focus on the clinking of glasses, the music in the bar, anything that could occupy the space in their mind.

The whumpee’s drink was in front of them, they didn’t remember the bartender setting it there.

They took it and drank it quickly, barely even testing whatever it was.

“That was fast, can I get your next one?” A handsome stranger settled in the seat next to the whumpee.

The whumpee raised an eyebrow, they didn’t really want to talk, but a distraction would be nice, “I won’t say no to a free drink.”

The stranger waved to the bartender and another bourbon was placed in front of the whumpee. The whumpee didn’t drink it yet, their head was already feeling pretty cloudy.

“So what brings you here?”

The whumpee raised an eyebrow, “well it’s a bar so alcohol I guess,” The whumpee glossed over the true meaning for their outing.

The stranger smiled, the whumpee couldn’t help but joining them. They had a warm air about them that drew the whumpee in.

“So you’re a smart ass?” The stranger teased.

The whumpee smirked, “On occasion.”

They felt a rush they had almost forgotten about. A normal feeling, normal people get. Just flirting with someone in a bar, not talking about their feelings, not dealing with the shit they have been through. It was intoxicating.

The stranger went to introduce themselves, “I’m-”

“Wait,” the whumpee paused downing their bourbon, “I don’t want to know. Tell me if I’m misreading here but what if instead of small talk,” they turned to look at the stranger, meeting their eyes for the first time, “we went back to your place.”

The stranger’s confident air broke for a moment, a blush colored their face. They nodded, “sounds good to me.”

**********

A part of the whumpee knew this was a bad idea. They doubted that sleeping with someone you found in a bar was high up on the list of recommended strategies to cope with trauma.

But it was hard to care while they were pushed up against the back of a front door, enlocked in a passionate kiss with their handsome stranger.

Being extremely drunk helped to ease any remaining doubts.

The stranger’s hands roamed the whumpee’s body, skimming under their shirt.

“Can I take this off?”

The whumpee barely registered the question before they were nodding.

There shirt went up over their head, lips moved down to their neck, hands moved over their stomach.

The whumpee gazed forward, letting things be done to them as their newest acquaintance wanted to.

It didn’t feel as nice as the whumpee remembered, but it was a distraction, and that was good.

At least it was a normal thing to do, where no one was going to handle them like a child, asking them if they were ok every other minute.

“Hey are you ok?”

Scratch that last bit.

The whumpee perked up taking a breath, they realized they had basically gone limp in the other’s arms, “yes! Yes, I’m good,” the whumpee leaned their head forward to capture the strangers lips in another kiss, “keep going.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, really,” they looked concerned.

That was the last thing the whumpee wanted, they didn’t need anyone else to pity them.

“I want to, really, keep going.”

The stranger smiled, they head moved back down to the whumpee’s neck.

The world seemed to blur a bit, it looked darker than before.

A hand trailed down the whumpee’s arm, the skin felt rougher than before, the hand closed around the whumpee’s wrist. Their wrist was moved up above their head and pinned there.

Their heart skipped a beat. The whumpee told themself that it was in a good way, the way the heart of a normal person would normally skip a beat in this kind of situation.

It was hard to try and excuse away the dread in their stomach as butterflies.

Their breath was heavy because of the beautiful person currently locked onto their body, that’s what they told themselves.

“You’re crying.”

The movement had stopped, how long their stranger had just been staring at them the whumpee didn’t know.

Worry was etched into the others face.

“S-sorry,” the whumpee whispered breathlessly.

“No, hey don’t be sorry it’s ok.”

Those kind words hurt more than any ones meant to inflict pain. Tears flowed faster down the whumpee’s cheeks. They couldn’t catch their breath. They felt trapped.

Their blurred vision turned to complete darkness.

The whumpee tried to blink it away.

Hands moved over them, restraining them in their arms. Their eyes cleared to see the whumper in front of them, grinning, holding them close.

“NO!”

“Are- hey it’s ok, it’s ok,” a soothing voice cut through the darkness.

The whumpee blinked hard, panting as they tried to understand what was real and what was their brain pulling tricks on them.

When they opened their eyes again the whumper was mercifully gone. But the panic wasn’t.

Humiliation washed over them as they met the eyes of their attempted one-night stand.

“You fell down, fainted or- something. Are- are you ok? I thought it was ok, I’m so sorry if I- if I did something wrong.”

The whumpee tried to listen to their kind words, it was hard to take it in, they couldn’t breathe.

The hands on them felt suffocating, one on each shoulder. Their intent was probably just to keep them from collapsing fully to the ground but they were just added on to their trapped feeling.

“Do- do you want some tea? Or something? Water?”

The whumpee didn’t care about tea, just wanted them to stop touching them. But since they weren’t really sure how to make their voice work right now, they gave a jerky nod, hoping the stranger would leave to get it.

“Ok- uh I’ll up just get you both, uh stay here, just a sec.”

The hands finally left the whumpee, they felt like they could breathe a little easier.

Footsteps faded off in a different direction.

The whumpee took deep breaths, trying to convince themselves they were ok.

In.

Out.

In.

Out

In...

The whumpee’s vision cleared up a bit, they looked around the room they were in. Focusing on the green flower vase in the corner, the brown door, white walls, they began to calm down.

As soon as the initial panic of the moment had subsided the whumpee was hit with another massive wave of humiliation.

“Jesus Christ...” they muttered to themselves.

This was a complete stranger and they just completely freaked out on them. This was meant to be their first day of normalcy and they had gone and fucked it up, just another reminder that they were never going to be normal. Couldn’t just enjoy a simple fucking one night stand, no they had to have a full on panic attack.

“Can you do one fucking thing right,” the whumpee scowled, angry at themselves.

Tears pricked at the side of their eyes, threatening to fall again. The whumpee quickly wiped them away, there was no way they were crying again no matter how embarrassed they were.

They looked longingly towards the door, thinking of maybe making a quick exit to try and preserve what little dignity they had left.

“You wanna come, uh... sit on the couch?” their was the whumpee’s stranger, holding a mug in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

The whumpee stood up shakily.

“I... I think I’m just gonna head home, I uh, sorry. So sorry about uh, all that.”

“No there’s no need to apologize! I’m the one who should be sorry, I really didn’t mean to do anything that would-”

“You didn’t really, it’s just uh, my own shit. So um I’m just gonna go-”

The stranger placed their handful of beverages down on the side table by the green vase the whumpee had been paying too much attention to earlier.

“Aren’t you uh, drunk, and... I mean, are you sure that’s the safest idea?”

“I’m fine, I don’t live too far and I’m not gonna drive. I walked to the bar, I can get back to my house,” it was going to be a pretty long walk but the whumpee couldn’t spend a second longer here.

“Can I at least call you an uber?” That worried look was back on the stranger’s face.

“Oh no really it’s-”

“Please, I insist, call it my apology for tonight. Besides I put all this work into this cup of tea, it would be a shame to waste it.”

The whumpee didn’t respond, honestly they would love to be driven home, they were tired and, very drunk.

“Please?” The stranger smiled.

“O-ok, thank you.”

“It’s no problem really! Want that tea now?”

#whump #comfort #panic attack #flashback #fear #one night stand #whumpee #caretaking #accidental caretaker #caretaker #drunk #not sfw #kissing

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mizunetzu · 4 years

Note

hey mark uhhh suck my dick that’s the request

no HAHAHA but I’m sure Iida will do it innnn *drum roll*

——————

Iida x reader - Iida Tenya’s Imaginary Boyfriend (pt.2)

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns - male, he/him

Part one can be found here!

The true ending can be found here! (Pt.3)

——————

“Alright,” Kaitekina flipped open her sketchbook, setting it back down on the easel. “Who’s going to describe something to me?”

Everyone gestured at Iida.

“I apologize once more,” Iida scrunched up his fists in his lap. “I do not wish to-“

“C’mon, Iida!” Uraraka grasped onto the sleeve of Iida’s school blazer. “You’ve been sulking for a month about this ‘(L/n)-kun’ guy! You need some sort of comfort! Or better yet-closure!”

“I am completely fine! In fact, I see him every night, and that is enough for me! Now, I do not wish to be here, and I have nothing to describe!”

Everyone fell silent. Uraraka voice was barely above a whisper. “Every night..?”

Iida sat back down, bowing slightly in apology for yelling. He said nothing. Todoroki looked down, before looking at Iida.

“If you do this one thing, we’ll let you go and we’ll never speak about it again. Just this once and we’ll leave it at that.”

Iida thought for a moment. He absentmindedly picked at the metal frame of his watch with his thumb and forefinger. Just this once couldn’t hurt. How accurate can a drawing be?

“Fine.” Iida visibly relaxed. “Just this once.”

———

“So, are you describing a boy or a girl today?”

Kaitekina’s voice was smooth like butter. Her eyes, once a chocolate brown, delved pink, bright and demanding. It was probably a side effect to her quirk activating.

Iida’s lips turned up into the faintest of smiles. A sheepish one. “I’m describing my boyfriend...”

Uraraka and Midoryia choked back a shocked gasp, while Todoroki simply raised his eyebrows. Nonetheless, they gawked at Iida like he was crazy.

Kaitekina cooed. “D’aww...how long have you two been dating?”

“Almost 5 months now.” Iida seemed more calm than before. You could almost say he was happy finally talking about his baggage. He rubbed his thumb across the glass of his watch discreetly. Kaitekina looked away from her sketch to eye the dull red watch contained under Iida’s blazer.

“What’s that red thing you keep touching under your jacket? Is that a watch?”

Iida sat quiet for a moment, before pulling up his sleeve and raising his arm. There revealed a dirty, cheap red watch, cloudy but functional. He tugged at the strap, watching as it unraveled and tumbled down onto his lap.

“It was something my boyfriend wore everyday. He wore it everyday since the start of the school year. He said he’d always cherish it, so I’m...cherishing it for him.”

“This isn’t the original one he owned though, that one...disappeared. I bought this one to keep with me where ever I go.”

The woman hummed, taking note of something on a sticky note stuck to the edge of her easel. It was most likely details to add or emphasize in the portrait.

“Can you tell me like-the shape of his face?”

“Angelic.”

Iida didn’t say anything else after that. Kaitekina waited for him to go on.

“Oh-forgive me. Round face, and his hair was a (h/c)-ish shade. It was always kept rather short/long.”

“You keep saying ‘was’. Is he no longer with us?”

Iida narrowed his eyes. Uraraka, Midoryia, and Todoroki eagerly awaited his answer, not-so-subtly staring him down. “It’s...it’s difficult to explain. But in simpler terms, he isn’t here with me anymore. Or he never was. I cannot seem to tell anymore.”

Those last parts came out as a whisper. More like he was saying it to himself, rather than to the sketch artist infront of him.

“I’m...sorry.” Kaitekina stopped drawing for a second to offer her condolences. Iida shrugged.

“...I am too.”

“Um-can you describe his eyes for me?”

“It was a bright (e/c)-color.” Iida limply held up his arm, before letting it drop back down on his lap. “They were always kind of squinted, like he was always so carefree. It was one of the things I never understood about him. Beautiful, (e/c) eyes that would stare up at me like I was the world.”

She made a noise of acknowledgement, grabbing (h/c) and (e/c) pastels scattered across her desk. Scribbling down details with her hazey glowing eyes scanning the paper, she looked up again at Iida. “What about his smile-what did it look like when he was smiling?”

“I believe it was his default expression. His lips were on the thinner/thicker side, though he kept telling me he wanted them to be a bit thicker/thinner. And-they were always chapped. I always told him to put on chapstick.” Iida chuckled.

“If you had to choose one thing-and I know it’s hard, but what would you say you miss the most about him?”

Iida fell silent. He stared down at his fingers, halting temporarily. He opened his mouth numerous times to speak, but each time, no words came out.

“His ability to make me smile.”

He said nothing else. Kaitekina inhaled to speak, but let her mouth fall closed, focusing on her drawing once more.

“Can you tell me about him while I finish up?”

Iida nodded. Midoryia, Todoroki, and Uraraka turned towards him, waiting patiently. This was what they were waiting for.

Iida pushed his glasses up with his forefinger. “His name was (L/n)-kun. He went to our school, and actually sat next to me in class-but apparently no one...seemed to remember him. It’s like he disappeared. That, or my delusions delved to the point where I hallucinated a whole five-month relationship with a boy I see every night in my dreams. It’s made me look forward to going to bed. It’s the only thing I want to do these days.”

Iida thought for a moment, before continuing. “He was good friends with these 3 next to me. But they don’t seem to remember him either.”

“It’s alright, though. I’ve grown used to it. I’ll see him again tonight and I can live on with these memories alone.”

A heavy silence filled the small studio. Midoryia contemplated setting a hand on Iidas shoulder, but as he was about to, Kaitekina clasped her hands together.

“So, I believe I’m done. I hope I was able to capture at least a small part of this person you had such an amazing relationship with.” She picked up her sketchbook, walking around her desk towards the 4 kids seated on the couch. “Are you ready to see it?”

Part of Iida didn’t want to look at it. All of his logical beliefs told him people were giving this woman and her quirk too much credit. Besides, how could she possibly know what mountain of complexity (Y/n) held, and capture it into an unworthy piece of fine-tooth paper?

He nodded anyways. She flipped her book around, holding up the displayed page in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“This is what you described to me.”

There stood a charcoal sketch of a beautiful boy, smiling so gently and earnestly. His hand was resting again set his neck and shoulder, a dull red watch strapped tightly to his wrist. There were features Iida swore he never mentioned, like the crease near his left eye, or the dimple that lay just under his cheekbone.

What captured his attention most, was his eyes. It was only pastel, but it shone and demanded attention, even if his eyes were in his usual half-lidded stance. Bright, (e/c), gemstone eyes that Iida fell in love with. Honestly, he could gaze at this picture forever.

This was him. This was his (Y/n).

Uraraka gasped. “Ahhhh! Wow! It looks really good! Ne, is this accura...Iida? You alright..?” Midoryia and Todoroki tore their eyes off the illustration to check out what Uraraka was talking about.

Iida was staring, eyes slightly wide, at the drawing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it; he didn’t want to. The drawing was more accurate than he’d like to admit. It was as if he was staring at (Y/n) himself.

He didn’t know tears were steaming down his face, until he felt small drops of water pelt down onto his lap. He removed his glasses shakily and wiped his eyes, doing his best not to take his eyes off the sketchbook.

“It’s-“ Iida’s voice cracked along with the seam of his heart. “It’s very accurate, you should be proud of the business you own, Miss.”

———

The stagnant air followed the UA students out of the building. Iida was stiffly walking straight ahead, doing his best not to look at the paper of (Y/n) folded in his pocket.

“Ne, Iida,” Iida hadn’t realized he was walking so far ahead until Uraraka had to jog up to him, followed by Midoryia and Todoroki. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“Do you feel better?”

There were two answers to this question. Yes and slowly but surely, yes. He was feeling better in the sense that he no longer had the urge to cry into his bedsheets, holding the piece of sketchbook paper firmly to his chest. He lost his dignity, and he found it again.

He was also feeling better in the sense that he finally got some sort of closure. Maybe this person isn’t real. And it’s ok. He has some sort of proof of his imaginary ‘friend’ that he can gaze at forever, instead of pitifully checking his wristwatch every 5 minutes, wishing it would go faster just so he wouldn’t accidentally forget how his face looked like.

It wasn’t healthy living day by day, waiting to fall asleep just so he could feel something again. A self imagined kiss on the cheek or just plain rest. He was willing to move on from that. It was time to start the ‘healing’ process. The drip finally stopped.

And he knew that if he got tired, if he was sad, or just needing some assistance, (Y/n) would be there waiting for him with open arms, welcoming him into his imaginary world again.

Though, he wasn’t sure if he really needed that right now.

He loosened the cheap red watch from his wrist, his head suddenly feeling empty and light.

“I’m feeling better. Thank you.”

——————

This is how this story really ends. Though, even I didn’t like it HAHAHA so I made a “true ending”. A sweeter ending without the bitter if u must LMAOO

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monst · 4 years

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Hi! Can i do a request for yandere todoroki with a artist darling? Like they always get messy with paint,,A̶n̶d̶ ̶a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ ̶p̶a̶i̶n̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶s̶i̶d̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶l̶d̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e maybe paints memories or just todoroki sometimes

Colors

Yandere! Todoroki Shoto x Artist! Reader

Warnings: Dark chocolate, Disassociation, Angst, Like you are seriously not taking this kidnapping business as well as he’d hoped....

Your eyes seemed to linger on the yellow coating the tips of your fingers. The bright color seemed to gaze right back at you with unabashed enthusiasm. Yellow, the color of happiness. Yellow was the last thing you were feeling.. However, your hope for contentedness laid in the paint staining your nails.

You allowed your fingers to play in the pool of the thick substance before bringing it up to the colorless wall. A semblance of a smile touched your lips when your fingers kissed the wall. And like lipstick it took the color. And within moments there was a sun. A lovely shade of rouge caressed your fingers next and as it met the wall it melted the lemony hue into honey.

Blues danced across your vast canvas bleeding the red creating an orchid of plums. Your lips tilted as you dipped them into a pool of darkness, however you carried on and soon, much too soon you were wiping your hands on a soiled rag admiring the sunset. At least what you remembered a sunset to look like. It’s beauty brought a wetness to your eyes and paint stained fingers swiped at the falling drops.

It was beautiful.

To your dismay you had to wait for it to dry and as you brought out brushes for more precision you felt a sudden chill shake your bones. To your dismay your sun brought no warmth. Warmth also seemed to be a memory, it was always terribly cold. You didn’t like to dwell on why he kept the temperature low. The thought of him soured your mood.

You had been so absorbed in the memory of sunset that you had all but forgotten him. You briefly wondered if he’d be upset that you painted the wall. The thought brought you to look at your excuse, they laid on the opposite side of the room; Each one was breathtaking. They depicted snippets of the outside world… Well to be more specific they depicted scenery of the places he allowed you to recall. And those were of places that captured your story with him.

Some canvases featured the striking male. Powdery snow locks divided against fiery strings of lava, a single pool of what looked to be the clearest ocean contrasted by the grey of a hurricane's eye. Dewy skin which looked devoid of pores, he was perfection, immaculate even save for the dark russet that surrounded the pool of water. Despite the burn he looked at sight. Something any artist would love to paint.

A scoff slithered out of your lips at the thought. In this colorless hell he was the only thing of flavor available. Him and the memories he’d allow you to recreate on parchment. To anyone those portraits of him would have been magnificent, but that’s because they would not be privy to the possessiveness in lingering in the windows of his soul. Nor would they be able to decipher the disingenuous smile that he bore.

He was truly ugly.

To your utter delight you hadn’t the need to think of him any further as your sunset had become permanent, thanks to the winds of the fan. You dove into your work. Bristles were stained and cleaned. Buildings climbed the horizon and birds took flight in the stillness. Hunger had been your companion as you brought your memory to life. You were only ever ripped from your masterpiece by the only warm thing left in your world.

For days the warmth of his hand pulling you away from your escape made you recoil. It was always heartbreaking to be brought into reality by something that was supposed to be comforting. His fingers absorbed the cold that lingered on your skin. Gentle fingers would wipe away the color from your soul and guide you out of the room. His soft voice would coax you to eat and the rise and fall of his chest would lull you to sleep. And when you woke, life would repeat itself..

His murmurs were but that, whispers that barely penetrated your ears. You vaguely recalled it, it muttered words of departure during the day and uttered words of adoration when it arrived. There were times your hoarse voice would indulge the whispers, it was always when you were re-creating. You’d ask if what you’d drawn was correct. ‘Was there a building there.’ ‘How many windows were in your previous home’ ‘What color were your parents hair’

He never answered questions about other people. You weren’t allowed to draw anyone but him. You had learned that after waking up to various burned canvases and torn pages. He didn’t want you to remember anyone else and you feared that one day you would only see him in your minds eye.

A terrifying thought.

Hours? days? weeks? time was irrelevant in captivity. It was useless to track it, it only put a heavy stain in your soul when you tried to process it. You preferred the blur of ignorance. For the nth time you felt the press of flesh against your temple as the whisper voiced it’s pains of leaving you. “I’ll be out till late, please don’t forget to eat.” He reminded. “I love you.” There was no return of said words.

That day you felt incredibly warm, no, it was more akin to an inferno. It burned within your chest and it bubbled up into your eyes. They spilled hot lava onto your cheeks as your cries of anguish accompanied the zips of splitting portraits. Your knees met the floor once it was covered in a sea of reds, whites, blues and greys. You gripped your head in panic as you struggled to recall those whom you once called friends.

You curled onto your side as ruby locks and pearl silk spun in loops inside of your memory. Cloudy skies and dawn dish soap gazed back at you. You cursed your mind for recalling his features so well. You damned it as it stuttered to recreate images of someone! Anyone! Anyone else! Names had oozed out of your ears, faces blurred by the long stretch of time.

Small pools rested underneath your head as you turned to look up at your sunset. The cityscape was lovely. In your memory you were sitting on top of one of the large structures. That was it’s perspective… Wobbly legs guided you to the wall. Resting your forehead onto the drying paint your soul sighed. You stifled another sob and averted your eyes to the side where someone else stood.

Your heart stopped.

To your left, to your right! There were people?! Blurred beings smiled at you, voices light and airy. Your fingers reached out to grasp at empty air. A pain stabbed at your heart, your features contorted in perpetual sadness. The figure to your right frowned, parting his lips to speak. You laughed when his silence met your ears. ‘Of course’ you thought bitterly.

“(N)” Your head shot up like a cobra. “K...Y” Your jaw unhinged in disbelief. The apparition spoke once more. “Are you okay?”

“(Name)? Are you feeling okay?” You turned to your left a knot in your throat. Snorting snot you gazed into concerned brown eyes. To your right grassy colored eyes furrowed in worry.

“Oi what’s with that ugly ass face?” Vermilion! And next to those Vermilion eyes were warm rubies. Honey, coal, cobalt, amber! An ugly cry ripped past your lips as you tried to reach out to them…. Air. You giggled at the realization and they smiled.

When they were gone you rushed to the closet housing large jugs of pigment. You hugged the pails close and opened all of them.

Emerald coated your brush as you gave to one of your dearest friends. Rich curls of sage complimenting the starry freckles on his cheeks. Wheat stuck up in disarray paired with the liveliest of crimsons. Scarlet locks and matching lava pits followed, Electric lighting bolts! soft cotton pink! warm honey brown! dark plumage! amethyst triangles! long lashes! silvery engines! Friends! These were your friends. These were the people whom you almost forgot. Their vivid colors brought back a symphony of emotions and events.

You laughed recalling conversations with the bunch, cried recalling woes and in that moment you could faintly hear the chimes of their laughter and your golden sun, your golden sun seemed to finally bring you warmth. Needless to say you didn’t part from the wall. Your lids closed in exhaustion and for the first time in a very very long time a smile was upon your lips.

You were yellow

When your eyes looked up into the land of the living the next morning you were ecstatic. You were clean and in bed but you quickly peeled the thick covers back and sprinted to the drawing room… Your bottom lip quivered when you looked into the white room.

“I hope you don’t mind, There was quite a mess in here and I cleaned up a bit.” His voice hummed. “I’ll see you late, I’ve got an early morning meeting.” There was a press of flesh against your temple. “I love you, please try not to make so much of a mess next time. I would hate to have to take away all of your colors.”

#todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha angst #todoroki angst #shoto angst #yandere shouto x reader #yandere shoto #yandere shoto todoroki

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cowcreamers · 4 years

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kenma kozume x reader

my first actual post, but make it kenma kozume because like look at him

basically just angsty cute fluff !

Today just wasn't Kenmas day, to him it was probably one of the longest days in his entire life. Had his teacher not want to lecture his entire class thinking it would be a good idea to hold them back for 4 hours.

Maybe it could have gone better and maybe he could made it back to your shared apartment before it started to rain, maybe if his phone hadn't died making him unable to text you and tell you he lost his keys and maybe he wouldn't have to sit outside in the rain on your apartment complex steps waiting for you to get back home.

Today was definitely not his day and he was definitely not having it, he even considered climbing up to your window, or asking your neighbors to atleast open the doors to the apartment lobby so he didn't have to sit in the rain-but your neighbors are stingy old bastards so they wouldn't have allowed it.

At this point all Kenma wanted was you, and he hoped that you would be home soon.

“....Kenma?”

"Hey..." he said quietly, of course he was delighted to see you-but he was to tired to show it right now.

"Oh my goodness Kenma!? how long have you been out here for? your soaked! Babe, your going to get sick, what are you doing out here!?"

"My phone died.. and i lost my keys" he said, he only finally noticed that he's shivering-your warm hands caressed his face. The weather only said it was going to be cloudy today, so Kenma didn't think he needed to bring anything with him in the case that it would rain; but now he was seriously regretting it.

Kenma could barely stand up he was shaking so bad, you gripped his hand pulling his arm over your shoulders and a hand around his waist-not caring about how wet he might be.

Concern and worry was written all over your face as you helped him inside your apartment and began to gently help him out of his clothes. You took his wet close and placed them in the dryer so it could well-be dry.

You turned the shower onto hot water so that he could get in, as you were going to go and grab clothes for him he pulled your wrist to stop you as a silent plea to not leave him alone and to join him.

You knew he was already having a bad day so you weren't going to reject his offer; taking your own clothes off you get in with him.

Kenma was tense and you could tell, but once he felt you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle your face into his back-he began to relax into your touch. He didn't want you to ever let go, but as you did he couldn't help but feel a little sad until he felt you reach your hands up and begin to slowly massage the shampoo into his hair.

With every movement you made Kenma could feel himself begin to crumble with the amount of love he could feel radiating off of you; he wanted to cry. Moments like these always made his heart feel warm and welcomed, he was so in love with you, you could make his heart flutter all over again like the first time you both met.

Kenma never wanted to let you go, you were the love of his life-he didn't know what he would do without you. You made him happy, he had never felt this kind of way for anyone until you had came along-and he was great-full you did.

Kenma didn't realize he was crying, he didn't even know when it started. He felt your soft hands move his face so it was now facing yours. He watched you move your body to in front of him, your brows began to furrow and your face etched with worry.

"Hey..shh.. talk to me, Why are you crying?" your tone was so soft and quiet, he could feel your love and concern for him threaded through each word you spoke. This time he brought his hands up to your wet face, caressing your cheek and putting a few of your wet strands behind your ear.

"God, I-I just love you so much and i-." He stops, watching the blush paint across your cheeks as he pulled you close wrapping his arms around your figure and placing a chaste kiss onto your head.

"I-I love you too, Kenma." you said pulling away and looking at his beautiful feline like eyes, pressing another soft kiss onto his cheek and turning around to continue with his hair.

He got lost in thought again, thinking about you. His heart filled with adoration for you and only you. The gentle presses of kisses on his back brought him back down to reality. He turned his head to the side slightly, thinking about how lucky he was to have a beautiful and loving person like you in his life.

You were the best thing that could ever happen to him; he'd never take you for granted. He was slightly disappointed when it was time to get out, he wished to stay with you longer under the warmth of the shower.

you handed him a towel to wrap around his waist as you did so to yourself around your body; you grabbed another towel and reached up to begin gently drying his hair.

You both lazily got dressed (you helping Kenma since he was on the verge of passing out and could barely put some sort of pajamas on) and then laying down on the soft comfortable bed, throwing the blanket over top of the both of you.

Kenma didn't know what time it was and he didn't care, all he wanted to do was lie in bed next to his lover. He held you close as if he'd never get to hold you again, the feeling of your hand running through his slightly damp hair and the other intertwined with his own.

"How are you feeling?"

"i always feel good when i’m with you”

You giggled and blushed, nuzzling your head into his chest. "I love you Kenma, Ill always be here for you no matter what"

This time it was Kenmas turn to blush, as he captured your lips in a sweet kiss, "and i'd do the same for you, I love you too [Name]" A comfortable silence fell upon the two as the warmth of their bodies and the bed began to soothe you to sleep.

He decided to stay up a little longer, his eyes scanning over your beautiful figure as he watched your chest rise up and down. A loving smile found it's way onto his face as he pressed another kiss onto your pink lips. He picked up the hand that wasn't on his head and began to rub the back of it, intertwining it with his own; pondering on what it would look like with a beautiful ring on it.

Perhaps it was time for [Name] [Last name] to become [Name] Kozume.

#kenma fluff #kenma headcanons #kenma smut #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #kenma kozume #kenma scenario #kozume kenma #nekoma #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#kenma

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