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themanthemyththeverite · 2 years

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Heat

A/N 1: I want to thank you all. Those of you who were here from the start. Those of you who have come along during the ride. I’m glad you’re all here. When I started this blog, I never imagined I could meet milestones or celebrate occasions like these. There was no ambition nor expectation, but you guys have exceeded any metric I could have put in place by moonshots.

Well. Here we are.

Thank you for 2000 followers. I am sincerely grateful for your support, and hope that you’ll continue following my work.

With that said, this is my 2k follower celebration piece! Enjoy!

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You find her by accident, a mess of leaves and crushed branches, illuminated by the light of the rising sun, propped against the enchanted back fence of your home. It’s only this enchantment that keeps the wood from collapsing beneath the weight of her feral form, that diverts the rare uninvited guest elsewhere, though with how far off the main road the cabin is, it’s practically impossible to find it without knowing the unmarked path.

She isn’t bleeding. She’s breathing. Her heartbeat is steady. That much you can tell almost instantly, a product of your enhanced senses. Yet still, she bristles like a rabid dog, fangs bared at the slightest sound, and for a moment, it’s almost a question of identification; is it really her? You’ve never seen her so haggard, so clearly unkempt and bothered even while transformed. But no, that streak of cyan fur, that silver chain tied about her neck—no doubt, it’s Seungyeon. Dark, predatory eyes glow with hazy irritation, and she snarls when you take a step closer before whimpering, doubled over and shivering as though doused in ice water.

Her temperament is suddenly thin, short, though as a human-born-werewolf, she exhibits vastly more manipulation of her curse than most of her kind, even during full moon shifts, rendering her capable of maintaining her genuine consciousness even when transformed.

Then she growls again, her haunches tense, and it becomes enough for you to question her stability, her control—could she have been drugged? No, she certainly would’ve sensed such an underhanded tactic. For a moment, you almost even reach for the silver sword over your shoulder before you relax, shake your head. After all, you wouldn’t try to kill her regardless.

“Seungyeon,” you say, and you manage to keep your voice nonchalant. “You in there?”

She stops. Eyes you warily. A quiet whine escapes through her muzzle. She stands on shaky limbs as black fur recedes and bones snap; a groan, mixed between human and animal, tears from her throat, guttural and pained. By nature, transformations are agonizing, and you look away until you can hear her labored breathing, the sounds of a distinctly human body on the grass.

Still, it’s clear something is wrong.

Slowly, she emerges in a crouch, unclothed and bare, sheltered only by the decency of thorny twigs and torn vegetation. Discolored red and yellow leaves fall from her tangled hair, and she covers herself the best she can with frail arms, with a ragged and torn cloak.

“You’re a mess,” you call lightly, lips curved into a smirk.

“Fuck off,” she bites back, and her eyes furrow into a glare, her mouth shaped into a scowl. You’re more than familiar with this expression, her annoyance unhidden from behind a veil of maturity and composure. “Is your alchemist here?”

“Flint? He’s on his way to the next town. Something about a favor to repay.” You shrug, though concern knots itself into worry in your stomach. “Until he gets back, I’m all yours.”

“How unfortunate.” She manages a small smile, tight-lipped and disappointed, and though her words are framed as a joke, there’s still a tinge of truth in her expression. You certainly can’t blame her sentiment; with as much as you know about taking care of yourself, taking care of others requires a stable, logical, and cautious mind.

None of which apply to you.

“Seungyeon,” you start, and she trembles beneath a light breeze, goosebumps rising on her pale skin, “are you hurt?”

The seriousness of your tone surprises both of you, and from where she’s crouched on the ground, she locks her gaze onto yours. Flickers of light glow in her eyes, a conscious curiosity, an appraising gratitude, but mostly a swirling hunger; it howls ravenously, cries louder, louder, until it’s near bursting.

The connection snaps almost as soon as it’s made, the vortex of color wrenched away, and the mossy ground suddenly captures all of her attention. “I—no, no, that isn’t it. I’m fine, but…could we go inside?”

There’s no hesitation, no pause before the of course slips from your tongue; though she glares at you when you help her get to her feet, it quickly becomes impossible to ignore the warmth of her body pressed to your side, her hand tender in your grasp as you loop an arm under her shoulder.

“Inviting yourself into my home?” You chuckle beneath your breath, shake your head. “Never thought I’d see the day you actually want my help.”

She huffs through gritted teeth. “Neither did I.”

It makes you laugh, the redness of her face, as you stumble through the door together and she quickly detaches herself from you—even quicker, she rushes into your kitchen, snatching the nearest glass of water without a second glance before she drinks like a wanderer in the desert, her throat bobbing with every gulp, her head pitched back. When she stops, she grasps the sides of the cup with both hands as though afraid to drop it, sheepishly avoiding your eyes, your raised brow, your mouth agape with an unspoken warning. Her elbows lean against the corners of the sink, and for a moment, you think she’s going to vomit right then and there down the drain.

Definitely too late to tell her that wasn’t actually water.

“Ugh, fuck,” she groans, and she sighs, eyes closed, unmoving, her back facing you. No vomit, thankfully, though she certainly isn’t out of the woods yet. “That was not water.”

You smile, and it’s all you can do to refrain from panicking, bustling her over to the examination table for a checkup. It isn’t a full moon for another week, and she seems crazed, restless, and…and…fuck, you can’t help but think that Flint would know what to do if he were here. What potions to brew, what remedies to make, what to say and what to do. You’re the monster hunter, after all, not the scientist or the medic, and you don’t need any more blood on your hands.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and your voice is a hum. Smooth but unsure. Harmonious but dissonant. You’re almost scared to hear her response.

Now she fidgets. The cup rotates in her fingers, and the tips of her ears grow pink. Still, she doesn’t turn to look at you. “I’m…well, I was just in town nearby, um, preparing for the full moon, and—fuck, I just—it’s just so…”

She stops. Spares you a glance over her shoulder. Her face turns a vivid shade of darkened fuchsia from the tip of her nose to her cheeks. Then, almost imperceptibly, she mumbles, “I’m going into heat.”

Oh. Oh.

Your hands suddenly feel clammy, and your body stiffens. Dammit. Now you have to get another drink to quell your nerves.

Seungyeon seems not to notice, too focused on tamping down her instincts, brushing stray locks of hair behind her ears. “It’s always—it was just really sudden and, well, I needed a place—somewhere safe to stay. You were closest, so this isn’t…”

She stops. Blushes again.

You cock your head, though you know perfectly well what she’s talking about. “Isn’t…?”

“...it isn’t what it looks like, okay?” she mutters. “I just need to wait it out and I’ll—” she takes a deep breath “—I’ll be fine.”

The words echo around in your head as you stare blankly at her, at her tiny pout, her guarded gaze, the hint of exasperation on her lips almost as though daring you to say something stupid, something crude. But more obvious are the details you’d previously ignored—the suppleness of her lips, the curvature of her torso, the bead of sweat trailing down her slender neck and further.

“R-right. You’ll be fine.” A fool, you think. You’re a fool. But the agreement comes out before you can stop it, a slightly stammered, “You can take my room down the hall.”

She nods. She sets the glass down. But the fog doesn’t quite lift. No, if anything, it settles more heavily over her, a pall of confusion and attraction settling in the atmosphere. She glances up, down, up, then down again. With her teeth and fists clenched, you suddenly realize you can hardly even see the color in her irises.

“Seungyeon?”

Reality overrides her reverie, and she quickly leaves, stumbling haphazardly until you hear the click of your bedroom door behind her. Creaks escape through the cracks, and you think you can hear her pacing back and forth until a soft whump comes; she must be lying in your bed. The thought makes your throat go dry, your pulse thumping in your ears.

But not now, you chide yourself. You push them away for a moment to think, think, think. What could possibly help her? Leatherbound books on your desk are suddenly flipped open, the pages turned with hurried perusal as you go from firesnap to witchbane to dragon’s blood. All sorts of holy concoctions, exorcism spells, even a stray page of smoothie recipes. Nothing even remotely useful. For all the clutter lying around, it’s shocking how little of it serves any purpose.

You busy yourself with sorting through some of the mess, at least. Anything to keep your focus away from Seungyeon. You have half a mind to leave, to go out for a walk and isolate yourself from her, but what if she wants water? Food? What if she calls for you? What if she wants you to help her—

You swallow down a feverish breath, wipe a few beads of sweat from your brow. The air’s suddenly much too thin, your breathing shallow.

Concentrate on the task at hand. Try to, at least. Papers shuffle in your hands as you stuff them in cabinets. Books wobble as you hold faded, crumbling spines long enough to place them on shelves. You wash her glass enough times to make it glow in the dark. Even a broom, hidden in a supply closet, finds itself in your grip as you sweep the dusty floors. The tediosity is perfectly distracting, empty, and yet still when a sound carries from behind your bedroom door, your head snaps to it like a shark on the scent of blood.

A soft rustle of sheets. An even softer moan.

Morning light casts a sparkle upon the freshly shined marble countertop, the wooden floorboards, though your hard work is long since forgotten. Instead, your imagination takes over—vivid, sensual, overactive. The thought of her touching herself on your bed makes you crumble just that little bit more, and surely by now, you’re not even sure which of you is really the animal.

No, you think. No, no, no, no. You should leave her alone. She needs to rest, to recover. She needs to calm down before you can talk to her. But how long would that take? Hours? Days? Weeks? How long could she hold herself together before shattering into a million pieces, pushing through your defenses like she could crash through your room?

Your legs disobey you. One step, two steps, three steps. Then you stop, just outside the dented and nicked edges of your room; your eyes widen when, this time, it’s the creak of oak that startles you, and Seungyeon appears on the other side, frowning. Nevermind your covers wrapped around her body like a robe, a heavy coat, the patterned design a sharp contrast to the smoothness of her sweat-misted skin peeking out.

Your smirk turns nervous, and the temperature rises in your blood as she stares at you hungrily, like a predator. “Everything okay?”

Her teeth grit together as her gaze scorches through you. “No,” she snarls. “I can feel you through the walls. Hear you. Smell you. It’s driving me crazy.”

Stare dumbly into her half-lidded eyes, and you’re suddenly seized with an urge to kiss her. Everything feels too sensitive, too hot, too much. Frustration laces through your muscles, filled with intangible tension. Was this what her heat felt like?

“Ah. Sorry. It wasn’t my intention to—”

You stop as she curls a fist around your collar, the fabric of your tunic shriveling in her grip. Every inch of her seems to tremble, to vibrate with suppressed energy; you can hardly breathe, though you’re unsure if it’s because she’s choking you or if you’re taken aback with how close she is.

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move. Her grip is deceptively strong for her size, though if you wanted to free yourself, you could. One hand comes up, gently places itself over the trembling back of her hand.

“Hey,” you murmur, “I just—I want to help you.”

Her lips are puffy, almost swollen with the press of her teeth, and you can tell she’s confused, wavering.

“I…I can beg,” you offer, half-joking. “I can take control. I can be a brat. I can pin you against this wall and take you until we both snap. I can let you tie me up and tease me for days, if that’s what you want. You just have to tell me. Tell me what you want from me.”

Each word grows more emphatic, stronger, bolder, until you’re pressing against her knuckles. Your chest rises and falls as she thinks, does nothing but stare, stare, and stare some more. Something, you think. Anything but this, this dead silence.

Give me something.

The gluttony in her eyes dims, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. “Are you—you’re not…scared?”

“Please,” you laugh. “Scared? Of you? You’re little more than a puppy, Seungyeon.”

Her free hand rears back for a slap before you catch it in your grasp, the arrogant curve of your lips turning soft, reverent, honest.

“I trust you,” you whisper. “Do you trust me?”

She pauses. She doesn’t seem to think, to contemplate, not at all—instead, she crumbles, pulls hard, and warmth blooms like the sun in the sky, too fast to register, blistering and hot. It scalds you, that heat, leaves you insensate, roiling in turmoil, as her lips collide with yours and her strength catapults you into your room. One spin leads to the wall, your back slammed against it, pushed up like a rag doll. It knocks the wind from your lungs for a moment, though even once the world stops spinning it’s stolen by hungry kisses, ravenous hands, searching teeth. Blindly, you kick the door shut, and she finally breaks away, gasping and flushed.

“Fine,” she pants. “I trust you. Fuck me. Now.”

“Okay, right, o-okay.” You can scarcely recognize the babbling voice as your own.

She presses into your flesh, tearing off your armor, your clothes, biting and nipping at every inch of exposed skin, your brain melting beneath the flood, swept away by the sudden wash of warmth erupting all over your body. Your fingers find coordination on their own, a self-minded desire that you don’t realize until she flinches against you, mewls into your mouth; the wetness at the tips of your fingers tell you all you need to know.

But more telling, surprisingly, is her haste to the bed. You’re in tow, of course, of course, but your clothes still vainly cling to your body until you hear the telltale rip of fabric. You don’t even have the time to whine before she’s yanking you over her, forcing your limbs into a tangle.

“I—fuck, I’m ready.” She quivers as one finger, then two fingers slide easily into her. “I want you inside me.”

She’s hardly finished speaking when you curl your knuckles inside of her, your lips drawn into a wicked grin. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Seungyeon.”

“Damn it, you—” Her fingers tug at your hair, wrench your head away from between her legs roughly, harshly. “You little bitch.”

Her eyes burn like embers, constant and relentless, before everything disappears into a smothering kiss again, and again, and again. Clothes disappear almost as quickly as your thoughts, and it takes but a matter of moments before your cock finally presses against slick folds; neither of you make a sound when you dip in slightly before pulling out. She bites a nail, eyes glassy and glazed, her hair a mess of tendrils in every direction.

But then, lucidity returns, and you hate it. You hate the roiling fear, the doubt that grows tenfold in your mind, whispering louder than Seungyeon can gasp for more, please, more. What if this is a mistake? What if she never wants to see you again after this? What if you hurt her irrevocably, irreparably, unforgivably?

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“Seungyeon,” you mutter, your teeth gritted, “are you sure about this?”

Her eyes, dulled with a sense of drunkenness, suddenly snap back, angry—no, furious. It’s enough to flip you over, one hand over your throat, every cell of your body vibrating with her passionate energy, the fiery fever of desire consuming the both of you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her voice comes out as a harsh grate, pierced by a hiss as she sheathes your cock inside of her pussy with one thrust, her hips bearing down against yours just a pace shy of murderous. The bed can hardly stand the force of her movements, and the sound of skin on skin resounds in what little awareness you have left in your ears. “I said,” she groans, her hands digging into your chest, “fuck me.”

There’s no breath to speak with, no space in your lungs for anything but her scent; the rising light of the sun casts her in an orange glow, a warm luminosity in contrast to the unforgiving pace of her body. It’s a race. An earth-shattering, heaven-shaking, world-ending race to the finish line, and she pulses wildly around you even as she nips at your flesh, marks you over and over again. Your arm. Your collar. Your shoulder. Your chest. Your nose. Your cheeks. Your ears.

“Mine.”

The one word falls from her lips, the rest incoherent as your cock stretches her wide—she relishes the searing pleasure with a moan, an eye-rolling sigh before she focuses on the task at hand: riding you.

Black in. Black out. The world spins and jostles about you as she leans in close, takes a nibble on the shell of your ear. Every inch of you feels hypersensitive, amped up like you’ve just drunk an augmentation potion, though most of what you feel comes from the wetness squeezing your shaft, coating it thoroughly with every thrust. She impales herself on you, faster than you would ever have thought comfortable, one hand pressed firmly against her clit as her eyes shut, sweat rolling down her face. You’re so caught up in her carnal beauty, you almost don’t realize it when she starts to squeeze her fingers around your throat.

It starts soft, gentle around the sides, slowly constricting your ability to breath until you’re wheezing, groans no longer squeaking from your throat as she fucks you into oblivion. Your hands clench around her wrist, her forearm, but you’re not struggling. No, you’re just barely holding on to your sanity, just like how she’s finally starting to fray at the edges, come undone in an unintelligible mess.

“Gods, y-you’re big,” she whimpers, though the late realization doesn’t slow her, doesn’t make her back down. “You’re…mmm, so fucking deep.”

Glance down, further down, just a bit further, and you can see your cock. Watch it as it splits her between her legs, as she cries out with every slam of her hips. Watch it as you thrust up, eager to please her, to give her every inch and more. You bury yourself as far as you can each time, more than happy when Seungyeon wails, limbs shaking before regaining control of herself.

“Shit, yes, yes, yes, you’re going to make me—!”

You’d scream just the same as her if you could, if the oxygen in your body was adequate to support a sound. Instead, you manage to squeeze your hands tighter around her arm, your eyes shutting as—

She breaks. And with her fall, mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut, catastrophic and elegant, you collapse with her, erupting inside of her with no restraint, no words, not even a sound to match her wordless sigh. Your cum paints her insides white, purified by the slick of her pussy sloshing around in a messy mixture of fluid inside of her, but you don’t care. Neither does she.

But even in her twitching, quivering moment of release, she isn’t done; far from it. The race of her heart beneath her chest and the heaviness of her breath say otherwise, but with legs locked tight around your waist, she doesn’t let you retreat or withdraw from within her.

So you roll over. Shaky arms and legs tremble in your grasp as she suddenly lies on her back, your cock still buried in her folds, soaked and sopping wet. It’s your turn, yes, but hesitation still keeps you pushing her too hard, a hand tracing along her forehead, sliding down her nose to cup her cheek in your palm.

“Feeling better?” you ask, and she leans into your touch, lets her teeth nibble at your thumb as she whines. Your heart melts beneath the scarred flesh of your chest.

“More,” she whispers. “I still need more.”

The feral heat diminishes, flickers weaker, but it’s definitely still there; amber light burns in her eyes as she cants her hips upwards, pulls you further under her spell. “Don’t be gentle.”

So slowly, momentum builds and the rhythm returns.

A half-beat shy of rushing. A showy cadenza with feigned improvisation. Fucking Seungyeon isn’t a meticulous plan, but it isn’t random either. No, you bottom out inside of her with intent. You kiss and nip at her collar with intent. Your fingers pin through her hands, hold onto the backs of her knees with the utmost care, and yes, intent. Through it all, she can only gasp as the air in her lungs is crushed with every wave of fullness, of satisfaction coursing through her veins. She can only bite her lip to restrain her wanton moans. She can only lie there and take every inch of your cock, savor every sensation that burns through her body.

And she takes you so well, her insides clenching and flexing around your shaft. Her knees push towards her shoulders, her body folding beneath the pressure as you pound her into the mattress, as peripheral thoughts scatter into nothingness.

“Is this what you wanted?” you pant out. “Did you want me to fuck you, fill you up like this?”

A squeak falls from her lips as you slam down again. “Yes, yes, I—”

Her words grow slurred, inaudible, and her nails bite into your skin; her teeth sink into your neck as you fuck her, losing yourself in the monotonous pleasure, the tide of incessant ecstasy soaked in your veins. Trapped in the minutiae of every moment, in the lilting cries of her voice, in the delirious haze of her heat and your own frenzied state.

So you drown in her. Her scent. Her taste. Her texture. She drives you crazy, you think. Crazy enough to make you clean the house. Crazy enough to make you break your oath. Crazy enough to fuck her straight through one of her heats, blinded by whatever twisted feeling binds you to her side.

“Oh gods, s-shit, fuck—that’s it,” she hisses, gasping. “B-break me in, use me, breed me, breed me, breed me—ungh!”

Your cock silences her again, her eyes rolling back as you let a hand trace along the quivering, sweat-slicked surface of her thigh, down, down, down until you can feel the fluttering walls of her pussy clenching—she tenses as your fingers find her clit, gently rubbing circles, one on top of the other on top of the other until she’s breathless and gasping and flushed, her toes curling in the air, her legs trembling until, oh—

She cums again without warning, squeezing your cock desperately, hungrily drawing you deeper, deeper, deeper into her womb as you fuck her through the aftershocks, your pace ticking down to a heavy, steady andante before you break down with her, rope after rope of your seed filling her to bursting. The excess squeezes past the plug of your shaft until you gently fuck it back into her, and her legs slide off from your shoulders to press into the small of your back. You sigh.

Then, a demand. “F-fuck, more, please, I need—mmf—need more.”

Suddenly, she’s up again, rolling over until you’re underneath, still buried in her painfully tight pussy, her eyes alive and hungry: terrifyingly vibrant. She’s not done, you think. Not by a long shot.

Your cock twitches.

I’m so fucked.

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When you wake up, it’s impossible to remember it all, a haze of lurid pleasure and bashful fulfillment, more a fever dream than reality. For a moment, you even consider the details, the finer points of it all: how exactly did she look on top of you? What vulgar encouragement had she called to you as you tugged on her hair, took her from behind? Was it even over? You had half expected her to emerge from her slumber beside you and fuck you into oblivion again with false promises of just one more time.

And dammit, it’s morning now. Again.

The water running down your throat does little to soothe your exhaustion. After all, Seungyeon had literally fucked you for an entire day.

But you can’t say it hasn’t been worth it.

Make your way back to your room, holding an extra glass of water, and Seungyeon only reaffirms that, eyes closed, buried beneath shredded tatters of blanket. You might have mistaken her for being asleep if she weren’t sighing, legs moving restlessly, her hands nowhere in sight. A shame that the blankets are still on, you think.

She notices you quickly, unfortunately, yelping and pulling the covers up to her chest, blushing when you laugh.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” you tease, setting the glass of water down on your clothes drawer. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

A roll of the eyes. She pretends to be exasperated, at least, so dignity might be at least somewhat preserved. On some nonexistent, purely fantastical level, of course.

“Hand me the glass?” she asks. Still, she doesn’t move from where she is, carefully covered and modest beneath your piercing gaze. Her tongue flickers out, lapping over lightly chapped lips, though when you don’t move, she ups the ante. “Please?”

You smirk. “Good girl.”

Even a tomato couldn’t hold a light to her complexion now, you think, though your present attention occupies itself with capturing her lips while your hands take the finished glass away. Sigh when you break apart and her hand rubs up against your semi-hard cock, her lips shifting to find a space on your neck she hadn’t yet desecrated. It isn’t particularly distinct, only this time, there’s no haste. Her breath is steady and even, a gentle tickle over your skin. You can tell she’s focused, softer. Her kisses fall like secrets, and an urge to laugh suddenly seizes you.

She feels your smile in her hair, the shuddery vibration in your lungs, and sighs, sheepish. “Can you go one more time? This should be the last to break my heat.”

A waggle of the eyebrows. A quirk of the lips. Your shaft jolts in her grip, and now you laugh. “You said that last time. And the time before that.” Still, you press in closer, palm her tender chest beneath your hand, pebbled nipple poking at your palm.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” she snarks back as she stretches, her body arched into yours, taut and supple. As if you could ever tell her no.

So wordlessly, you pick her up, put her on her hands and knees at the edge of the bed; she shivers at the contact, the touch of your fingertips ghosting over her back and thighs. Still sensitive, of course, though the heat-addledness has faded, and her eyes burn with rich color, with something akin to affection, with a coaxing tenderness that says I’m here, completely here.

“Hurry up,” she pleads, her head dipping down between her arms, pressed against the mattress as her hair splays down her spine, “and stop teasing.”

One hand reaches over her waist, fingers slipping into her for but a moment, and she jolts, sinks into your grip as kisses fall like rain upon her silky skin.

“Hm,” you hum. “I can’t help it.” Thumb at her belly button, hooking your arms under her thighs, pulling her flush against the stiff length of your cock; she mewls when you slide over and dodge the resistance of her cunt, molten lava against her flesh. “You’re even cuter when you’re flustered like this.”

She laughs, breathy and swift, her head tilting around to squint into your inquisitive eyes, to boldly meet your gaze until softly, you press your lips to hers. Chaste. Patient. Sweet. Almost too much so, in that you partially forget that you have a responsibility to fulfill, a desire to satisfy.

That laughter turns to a sigh, heavy in your mouth as your cock slides into her, eases past the fluttering folds of her pussy, leaking from the edges as she sinks into the bed further.

“Gods, yes,” she hisses, her fists clenched and her eyes wide, her head buried in the covers, rocking back and forth with your thrusts. “Y-you’re so…mmf, so fucking big.”

And you’re slower this time. More patient. Whether the change in tempo is a result of your previous overwork, or whether it’s an artistic decision of the subconscious, it feels different. Less hurried, obviously, but more honest, more revealing as well.

This time, you can savor the stretch better. The way she holds you inside of her, the way she twitches and quivers with every thrust, the way your cock pushes all the way through up to her womb. Your hands maintain a tight grip on her hips, pulling her back onto your shaft as she drifts away, drifts down into the same abyss of completion the two of you have been finding and refinding for hours upon hours.

“Y-you’re so fucking good,” you groan, though the words spill out more like a ramble. “You’re the fucking…mmm, the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, Seungyeon.”

She manages the strength to raise her head off the mattress for a moment, her eyes glassy and unfocused as she rolls her eyes at you. “You’re such a liar.”

Ignore her defiance, her refusal to believe you; actions speak louder than words after all. And, you suppose, as you bend over her, one hand finally leaving her hips to tug at her hair, pulling her up off of her face, that your dick speaks louder than your mouth as well.

So you drill her. A crude term for a crude act, her arms trapped behind her back at the elbows, straining against your forearm while her head is limp despite your grip on her hair. There are no sheets to bite, no excuses or shield to hide behind anymore; she moans. She’s loud and unbecoming, certainly, a mess of a woman, but it doesn’t matter. All either of you can care about is your cock bottoming out inside of her, railing her hard enough to make her see stars, and that she’s sucking you in so hungrily you might burst.

“S-so deep, so deep, yes!” she sobs, her mind a blur as your cock stirs through her again and again and again. “I-It’s so…gods, I can feel you in my stoma—!”

Cut off, she wails as you yank her hair harshly, bend her over backwards; she tightens precipitously, body strung tight as you relinquish her arms and wrap your free hand around her neck until she’s sputtering for breath, eyes rolling up into her head, her fingers latched tight around your forearm.

“You tiny thing,” you pant out, though your lips still manage a smirk. “I’ve given you so much…s-so much cum already. And you want more?”

She nods weakly, squirms in your grip, trembling, her mouth open and gasping; she quivers and quivers, a delicate piece of glasswork held in the palm of your hand, balanced on the tip of your cock.

“P-please—ah! Ah, f-fuck, I—”

“Then cum for me,” you whisper, coaxing her gently, but with no less magnitude than a demand. “Make me give it to you, every last—shit—every last drop.”

That porcelain shatters into a million shards, her body limp and tense all at once, and her knees buckle from under her as she tumbles from your grasp, falling face first into the bed; her hands claw at nothing, muscles spasming as you follow her in climax. Fuck her through it all, hips churning like a train without a conductor, an orchestra with no maestro, though life is still buried inside of her pussy, plowed into her tummy, and her hands come to rest over her abdomen, to feel the warmth bursting inside of her like the sun.

And then the world comes spinning back into focus, with emphasis on the “spinning”; you roll off of her to let her breathe as the ceiling fades in and out of focus, your chest heaving and your cock spent. She’s no better, certainly, releasing a mouthful of stained sheets and with cum bubbling out from between her legs. She ignores it though, to turn over and press her forehead to yours. A smile. A hum. The slightest flick of the tongue makes you ache, though you’re certainly too exhausted to keep going.

“You beast,” you laugh as she leans in to kiss you lazily, “give me a break, at least, before you defile me again.”

“Defile you?”

She’s incredulous, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, defile me. Desanctify, desecrate, corrupt, taint. My innocent soul, pure as snow, stained by desire as vivid as blood,” you lament dramatically. “Not to mention my dick.”

“I didn’t taint your dick—“

Catch her hand midway through cradling your flaccid cock; her eyes go wide and you smirk.

“Well, I sure wonder who and what made my dick feel like it’s going to fall off.”

She swats you off, bites her lip and blushes as her chest presses against yours; a breathy chuckle echoes from her lips before her hands reach down slowly, skittering along your arm until your hand is in her grasp, a finger caught gently between her teeth in a playful nip.

You yelp before you gasp, “You and your biting. So barbaric.” A pause. Then, a grin. Sweet, sweet realization hits, and opportunity presents itself, too enticing to resist. “Wait, is this some wolf-claiming shit? Am I your mate now or something?”

She scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t even break the skin.”

You waggle your brows at her, smiling wider.

“Do you want to break—”

“No! Gods, no, that’s not even a thing, you oaf.”

Laugh again, louder, when she finally looks at you, opens her brilliant eyes to stare into yours, the features of her face softened and tender. For now, at least, she’s not pissed at you for something or other, and it’s an odd change of pace; you’re more than accustomed to her irritation with your nonchalance, her disapproval of your flippance, and yet here you are, lying naked in bed together, so very refreshed.

“Feeling better now?” you ask as you hug her closer; she shrugs, burrows her head into the crook of your neck further. A deep breath in. Out. Try to calm down, even if Seungyeon makes that task as hard as humanly possible.

“Mm,” she hums into your skin. “Thank you.”

Another soft kiss. Her silky smooth hair draws a satin curtain over your skin. And dammit, she’s making it really difficult.

So you pause. Bite your tongue. And, ah, yes, now you can think semi-clearly again. No tits, no ass, no adventurous limbs to test your patience.

“Don’t mention it,” you reply smoothly. Your efforts of the past moments go to waste as you open your mouth again, every neuron of courage firing in your brain as you say, “We should do this again sometime.”

At the mention of sometime, Seungyeon stiffens. The air seems to go stale and rot, her presence suddenly tense beside you—it’s hard not to notice the imperceptible tightening of her lips, the fall of her smile. It’s as though the Sun blinks out for a moment, radiant light dimmed to a flicker.

“You’re not worried about your dick falling off?”

You’re okay with a werewolf? A half-breed? A mutant?

She doesn’t say it, no, of course not. Neither do you. But the question is still there, vulnerable and honest. It’s the first time she casts off her cloak.

But you’re not nearly as eloquent.

“I’m a contract killer and monster hunter,” you smirk. “I can take care of myself.”

I don’t give a fuck.

Cup her face in your hands before your fingertips trail down to her wrists, lifting them until she gets the point, and her arms are no longer deadweight, her eyes no longer transfixed upon the ruination of your bed.

“So adorable,” you murmur. “So pretty.”

She only pouts in response. “Shut up.”

When your teeth take her gentle flesh into your mouth, you’re careful not to indulge too much. It’s not a weird thing, not something overly drawn out or profound; it’s just an affirmation. Oddly enough, it’s intimate in a way that words couldn’t possibly describe, barbaric in a way that pushes past the bounds of animalistic sex, mindless fucking.

“Next time,” you assure her, just as you’ll reassure her, over and over and over again.

Seungyeon nods. Then she smiles, and it feels like a promise.

“Okay. Next time.”

A/N 2: Whooooo! Thanks for reading!

#seungyeonsmut #smut #povsmut #malereaderinsert

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mimi-ya · 3 years

Text

permanent ~ trafalgar law x reader

900 words | f!reader

masterlist

Contrary to popular belief on the Polar Tang, Trafalgar Law was not stupid.

Most of the crew thought they were getting away with their dumb antics without their captain finding out. That he didn’t see or hear what they had done this time.

Law just didn’t care.

The one line he did have, was when they tried to hide a pain or sickness from him. He might be the captain and have a million things on his mind, but he would always be their doctor first.

So when he overhears your conversation with a few crew members, it makes him pause.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really, it just feels weird.” He hears you say.

“Well don’t lie on your stomach, you don’t want to crush it!”

There’s a slap, “She’s not gonna crush it!”

Your laughter fills the air.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Of course, not like I can hide it for long.” You pause, “You don’t think he’ll be mad, do you?”

“Captain? Never!”

“Plus, now you guys will be connected for life!”

Law is insanely curious what you could be talking about and if he should be concerned. Peering around the corner he sees your back is turned towards him, with Penguin and Shachi looking at you.

Looking at your stomach to be more specific.

He can see the giant smile peeking around the side of your face, a hand placed lovingly over your stomach.

He’s going to be sick.

You hadn’t been able to find Law all afternoon. Which normally wouldn’t be cause for concern. But the Polar Tang was submerged, and you had checked all of his normal spots. Which means he was either floating out at sea, or he was avoiding you.

Deciding to just stay put and wait for him, you had grabbed dinner from the mess and situated yourself at the table in his room.

Sure enough, not ten minutes later was he shambling into his room, startling when he realized you were waiting for him.

“I brought dinner.” You motioned to the untouched plate across from you.

He grunted in response, tossing some books onto his small nightstand before dropping into the empty seat. Law stares at you over the table as you pick at your plate. Normally the comfortable silence is perfect for both of you, but right now it’s grating on his nerves.

How can you sit there so peacefully, as if you don’t have life changing news to share?

“(Y/N)-ya.” You look up at the sound of your name, and notice a grim expression on Law’s face, “I know.”

You cock your head, “Know what?” He nods in the direction of your mid-section and your hand flies to your stomach, “I was going to tell you, I just wanted to wait for it to heal a bit?”

“Heal?” Law almost screams, “Is there something wrong with them?”

Your brows furrow, “You should know, don’t you have like ten of them?”

He can feel a vein about to burst, “I don’t have any children!”

You look just as dumbstruck as Law feels, “Who said anything about children?”

“You’re the pregnant one!”

There’s a tense silence that follows before you burst into hysterical laughter, tears forming in your eyes as you try to catch your breath, “I am not pregnant!”

Law’s eyes narrow, “Yes, you are.”

You’re able to quiet your laughing while Law seethes in front of you, “I’m really not.” A smile still on your lips.

“Then what were you showing Penguin and Shachi earlier?” Law watches as you rise from your seat, making your way towards him. Standing just before him, you wrap your fingers around the bottom of your shirt and lift to reveal the new permanent addition to your body.

“I got it done when we last port.”

Law can’t stop his fingers from immediately tracing his jolly roger that’s now etched into your hip. The skin is a little inflamed, and he can feel the raised flesh under his tips as he runs over it. He feels heat rush through his body, knowing that you’re truly marked as his.

“What do you think?” You ask, chewing on your lip as Law’s stuck in a trance.

“I think it’s going to be quite the distraction when I’m fucking you on your back.”

“Law!” You squeal, dropping your shirt to slap his hand away.

Instead, he just wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to bury his nose in your stomach, “Let me see it again.”

“I don’t know if I should, you were being kind of a dick earlier.” You huff.

“C’mon.” He whines uncharacteristically, “I thought you were carrying my spawn.”

“Don’t call them that!” You smack the back of his head, “Our children would not be spawns!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Law brushes you off, standing to his feet while picking you up with him, a kiss pressed into the juncture of your neck, “Whatever you say.”

He carries you to his bed, tossing you down and immediately diving for newly exposed skin, the black ink peeking out. He’s a man on a mission, placing soft kisses and memorizing the design with his tongue.

Pleasure thrums through your body as you run your fingers through his hair, “You know, if you’re that concerned about me getting pregnant, maybe we should cut back on the activities that lead to pregnancy.” A yelp escapes you when a sharp pinch stings your ass, and you glance down to see Law glaring up at you, lips still attached to the new ink.

“Don’t even joke about that (Y/N)-ya.” He mumbles against your skin before pulling off and situating himself against the wall, “Now get up. I want to see your tattoo in action while you ride my cock.”

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #op x reader #op x you #op imagine #op x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x you #one piece x y/n

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ghoulgirlwrites · 2 years

Text

Keep You Safe Tonight

Pairing: Jet Star x Non-Binary Reader (they/them)

Era: Killjoy AU

Requested by: @broke-and-overwhelmed

Word Count: ~1700

Summary/Request: Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Jet Star x reader fic (nonbinary they/them) where the reader has had a crush on Jet for a while but has been trying to hide it. Then they end up having to travel for some reason only to find out there's just 1 bed for the two of them? I know its cliche but I just love this trope. Thank you!!

A/N: Here it is! Thank you for your patience, hope you enjoy! Also Jet having a motorcycle just fits idk.

You and your fellow Fabulous Killjoys were just arriving back at the diner from another successful mission, when Jet Star stopped you before you could go inside, his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/K/N?” He asked.

You turned to face him, trying to ignore the way his hand felt like it was burning you. “Yeah?”

“You did really good today,” he said.

You felt yourself brighten as you soaked in his praise. You knew Jet didn’t hand out compliments often and he was more difficult to impress than the other Killjoys. He wasn’t an ass or anything, he just wasn’t as open about his opinions.

But you didn’t want him to know how you felt about him, at least not yet, so you schooled your facial expression, hoping to achieve a casual look.

“Thanks,” you said, grateful your voice didn’t tremble over the single word.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling at you.

He let his hand linger on your shoulder for another moment before letting you go and following you into the diner. He went into the back room for something and you just stood in the main part of the diner, wondering what had just transpired between the two of you, if it was actually as significant as you wanted it to be.

“I know you like Jet,” said a voice behind you.

You spun around, to see Fun Ghoul laying on his back on the bench seat of one of the booths. He was currently tossing a rubber band ball towards the ceiling, before catching it in his gloved hand.

You strode towards him, snatching the ball from midair before Fun could catch it again.

“Hey!” He cried, reaching for it, but you held it above his head.

“You better not tell anyone what you know or expect to get a very unpleasant surprise,” you said.

He rolled his eyes, smirking. “I know something else too, but it’ll cost you to find out.”

You groaned. “What do you want?”

He smirked, tilting his head to the side as he considered you. “Clean my blaster and make sure all my shit is stocked for the next two weeks.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. What else do you know?”

“I know he likes you back,” he said, wearing what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You better not be messing with me.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not! I just know things, that’s all.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “How do you know then?” Fun went to reply, but you put a hand up. “And before you answer, you can’t blackmail me into doing anymore of your grunt work, so don’t even try it.”

“I wasn’t,” he grumbled. “I know because it’s totally obvious. You just don’t see it because you’re not an objective observer.”

You sized him up. “And you are?”

He nodded sagely. “Yes I am, in fact. And lucky for you, I’m also a kickass matchmaker and I’m willing to help you out of the goodness of my heart.”

“How?” You asked.

“I’m so glad you asked. You see, Poison asked Jet and me to head to Zone 6 to scout some Killjoy camps, but I’m going to make a strong case for you to go instead,” he said.

“Why would you do that?” You asked.

“Because I wanna see you two lovebirds happy,” he said. You considered him shrewdly. “Aaaand I kinda don’t wanna go myself, so this would mean I don’t have to.”

“And there it is,” you deadpanned.

“Come on, it’s a good offer. How often do you get the chance to have that much alone time with him?”

“Not often,” you admitted.

“See? It’s perfect!”

“How do you know Party will go for it?” You asked.

Fun smirked. “You forget how annoying I can be.”

You snorted. “Like anyone could forget that. When do Jet and I leave?”

“Two days from now,” he said.

You winced. “That’s soon.”

“The sooner, the better, I think,” Fun said.

You sighed. “Fine.”

After dinner that night, Jet sidled up to you, looking a bit nervous. “So I guess you heard Fun bailed on the scouting mission.”

“Yeah, he’s so fucking lazy,” you replied.

“Well, I think it’ll be nice. I’m looking forward to spending some alone time with you,” he said.

Your stomach fluttered as you met his gaze, only finding sincerity behind his eyes. “Me too.”

Two days flew by. You awoke bright and early on the big day, unable to sleep due to nerves. You were almost regretting taking Fun’s bargain. What if you and Jet didn’t have anything to talk about and the whole journey was filled with awkward silences? What if Fun was wrong and you made a fool of yourself?

But it was too late to back out now, and Jet even seemed to be looking forward to it. You’d noticed a spring in his step since the two of you had talked about it and you couldn’t deny that his anticipation was infectious.

You both attached your rucksacks to his motorbike, before he climbed on and looked back at you. When Ghoul had convinced you to go with Jet, you hadn’t realized that you’d be taking his motorbike, meaning a long drive with your arms wrapped around Jet’s waist, your face pressed against his back…

“Y/K/N?” Jet asked, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Something wrong?”

You shook your head, partly to answer him and partly in the hopes that you could shake away the thoughts you were having.

“No, I’m all set, sorry,” you mumbled, before climbing on behind him.

“Good. Hold on tight, okay?” He asked.

“‘Kay,” you managed as you slunk your arms around his midsection, trying not to squeeze too hard.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Yup,” you said.

Then he started the engine and the two of you zipped off. The bike was loud, so there weren't many opportunities to talk. You just watched as the desert went by in blurs of red and brown, occasionally stealing glances at Jet’s face. You liked watching him ride his bike, whether or not you were on it with him, because of how exhilarated he looked, all the stress of being a killjoy on the run from BLI seeming to melt away.

Before you knew it, it was dark. You had yet to reach your destination, but Jet decided he was tired and wanted to rest at a motel you’d passed. There weren’t many left in the Zones, many having been destroyed beyond repair by BLI, so you knew that you might not get another opportunity to find a relatively safe place to rest.

The motel only had one vacancy, Jet took it, quickly paying before you could properly object. You muttered something about paying him back later but he acted like he hadn’t heard you.

You both got your things and brought what you needed into the room. As you both looked around, you quickly noticed there was only one bed. Your eyes widened.

“Okay, no big deal. It’s just a room with a bed,” you said.

“I can sleep on the floor…” he offered, but based on his half-hearted tone, it sounded like he wanted to sleep on the floor about as much as you wanted him to.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s only for one night, right?” You asked.

“Right,” he said.

The two of you got ready for bed in slightly awkward silence. You were the first to climb into bed, while Jet just watched you.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He asked, eyeing you warily.

“Of course. Come on, Jet,” you said, patting the other side of the bad.

Thankfully, he obliged, coming over and getting into bed after you.

“Night, Y/K/N,” he said, switching off the light on the nightstand next to him.

“Night, Jet,” you said.

You tossed and turned for a while, and then sighed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m cold,” you whined.

Jet chuckled. “C’mere.” In the dark, you could just barely see him holding his arms out, inviting you to cuddle in his embrace.

You gladly took him up on the offer, shifting over to his side of the bed.

“Better?” He asked.

“Mhm,” you murmured.

You drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of his breathing and the warmth of his body against yours.

You awoke the next morning with your limbs tangled up with Jet’s. You’d been dreaming of this for a really long time, so you shut your eyes again, concentrating on holding perfectly still. You sensed Jet was still asleep and you didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“I know you’re awake,” he whispered.

“Dammit,” you hissed, biting your lip.

You went to free yourself from his embrace, but he held you tighter.

“Wait,” he said.

“Yeah?”

He exhaled sharply. “Look, Y/K/N, I know this might be out of line and Party would kill me for doing this, but I really like you. I have for a really long time. I really love fighting alongside you and watching you kick ass. Will you…willyoubemydebutalbum?” He blurted.

You chuckled lightly, giving him a peck on the lips. “I’d love that.”

You didn’t think going on a mission with Jet could be any more enjoyable, but after the morning’s confession, everything just felt easier. You completed what you’d been sent to do and headed home. And it was even better being pressed up against Jet’s back now that you knew he felt the same way about you.

When you reached the diner, you climbed off Jet’s bike and grabbed his hand to pull him off. He smiled at the contact and climbed off, wrapping himself around you.

You heard commotion from inside the diner, then saw out of the corner of your eye Fun, Party, Kobra, and The Girl come out of the diner.

“I knew it! I knew it! Kobra, you owe me!” Fun cried as he jumped up and down, clapping his tattooed hands.

“I don’t owe you shit,” Kobra grumbled.

You turned to them, glaring. “You were betting on us?”

Fun lowered his gaze. “Yeah, that was the other reason why I convinced Party to have you go in my place, but I couldn’t tell you because I couldn’t mess with the bet.”

“So instead you interfered by putting them in a situation where they’d be forced together?” Kobra asked.

“Yup, you got it. Admit it, Kobra, you’re tired of watching Y/K/N pine after Jet,” Fun said.

“But all along, I was pining after them too,” Jet said, giving you a tender look.

“Ew!” The girl cried and everyone laughed.

#jet star x reader #ray toro x reader #my chemical romance #MyChem #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fic #my chemical romance x reader #danger days fic

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waka-chan-out · 3 years

Note

Ok concept/request, you're riding Iwaizumi in the Aoba Johsai locker room and Oikawa walks in on you two and you feel like everything is about to get really awkward, but then Iwaizumi asks if he could join in?

(I ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ your stuff so much btw!!!!!!!)

Cool Down

i am OBSESSED with this idea. y’all know how much i like writing multiple characters, huh? 👀 sorry for taking so long on this but thank you for sending in a request! i’m flattered you like my content baby i hope you’re doing well

i exclusively write post-timeskip characters so i’m going to change this to argentina national team oikawa and athletic trainer iwaizumi if that’s alright :) but the concept shall remain the same.

word count: 2k

content warnings: she/her afab reader, established relationship, threesome, oral (m. receiving), double penetration, “sir,” “good girl,” LOTS of pet names, ass play, very low risk public sex, light teasing, light dacryphilia, creampie

You could still hear players shuffling out of the arena from the locker room. Tooru had told his team not to wait up, that he was going to stay and catch up with old friends. Instead, he had pulled you into his team’s deserted locker room and pushed you against the cool concrete wall, too hyped up from his game to even manage a shower.

Somehow that made it even hotter as you tangled your fingers in his lovely blue jersey, holding on as tight as you could as you shifted up and down in his lap.

His breath rushed heavy into your ear, face screwed up in pleasure and pressed into the crook of your neck. Both of you were so wrapped up in each other that the ability to speak was stripped away entirely, leaving behind pants and groans and the occasional high pitched moan.

Your brains and bodies were occupied, and that made it impossible to hear the locker room door clunk open and the heavy footsteps approach the back row of lockers.

“Oikawa.”

The voice fell like a bucket of cold water. You couldn’t run, so you clapped your hands over your face and buried into Tooru’s shoulder. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Tooru turned around, an exhausted smile on his face.

“Iwa-chan.” He let out a cough, unable to catch his breath. “Thought you would’ve gone home by now.”

“I figured you’d pull something like this.”

“But you won’t tell, will you? Because you’re our good little Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s face screwed up in disgust.

“I wasn’t going to tell as long as you were in a generous mood.”

You perked up.

“What?” you asked. Iwaizumi crossed his arms.

“Shitty-kawa needs to learn how to share if he’s going to make a mess in our locker rooms.”

Your eyes grew wide and Tooru laughed.

“I don’t know whether to take you seriously or not, Iwa-chan.”

“I could just report you.”

“I didn’t say no, but I’m not the one you have to ask.”

They both turned to face you and your mouth grew dry.

Scanning Iwaizumi’s body, you couldn’t say you’d never thought about it. The few times you had met Tooru’s Iwa-chan in person he had such a presence around him. No matter how out of control Tooru got, Iwaizumi held the reigns, able to shut situations down in only a few words. Not only that, he was almost infuriatingly good looking. His uniform polo looked uncomfortably tight around his chest and biceps, and that’s not even mentioning the way his legs fit into his dress pants.

You wanted his arms around you. Immediately.

“Does the door lock?” you asked. Tooru grinned.

“I knew you were fun,” he said, pressing kisses to your neck. Iwaizumi’s lips curled into a smile and he disappeared for a moment. You heard an echoey click and he returned, already pulling his belt out of its loops. Tooru laughed again.

“Cocky, Iwa-chan. At least get them warmed up first.”

Iwaizumi approached you, continuing to undo his slacks.

“I think you’ve already taken care of that,” he muttered, pushing down on Oikawa’s shoulder so he would laid down on the bench. Iwaizumi leaned down and pressed a gentle but warm kiss on your lips.

“You’ll be good for me, right?” he whispered as he pulled down the front of his briefs. You grinned and tugged him closer by the belt loop.

“Yes.” You punctuated the word by wrapping your lips around him. He was slightly shorter than Oikawa but significantly thicker. You looked up at him and took him as far into your mouth as you could.

“Shit,” he breathed, cupping your chin and running a thumb over your cheek. “What did you do to bag this one?”

Oikawa laughed and laced his fingers behind his head.

“I’m very charming, Iwa-chan. You should know that by now.”

You smiled as much as you could with Iwaizumi’s weight still in your mouth. He looked down at you and combed your hair out of your face.

“Wanna make him shut up for me?” he asked. You became keenly aware of the fact that Tooru was still inside of you and circled your hips. He hissed and tipped his head back against the bench.

“Mean, Iwa-chan,” he gasped. You continued a steady rock in his lap and he let out small, sharp breaths, trying to remain composed as he watched your eyes focus on Iwaizumi’s. “Don’t push her head,” he warned. “She doesn’t like that.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi said. His hand cupped your face, gently following your movement as your head dipped and pulled back. “You don’t like when he shows you what to do, huh? What if I show you what to do? Will you let me?”

He pulled you off of him, gently swiping at your lip to clean your face. He pushed his index and middle past into your lips, dragging them over your tongue. You closed your eyes at the feeling and you heard him let out a content laugh.

“That’s my girl. Why don’t you bend over for me?”

You quickly leaned forward so you were laying on Tooru’s chest.

“You really are an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” he said, running a hand through your hair. “Why don’t you behave this way with me, hm?”

“Because you don’t command any respect,” Iwaizumi grumbled. He ran his hands over your ass then down, circling your entrance. You gasped and held Tooru tighter.

“Don’t act so shy,” he said through a laugh. “You’ve done that before and you know you like it.”

“Oh? Is that true?” Iwaizumi asked. You nodded, but he ran his hand over the back of your neck and tugged your hair lightly. “Words, darling.”

“Yes,” you stammered. He chuckled and unceremoniously pushed a finger inside of you. You let out a choked moan and pressed your face further against Tooru’s chest.

“Aw, Iwa-chan, be nice.”

“I am being nice. Feels good, doesn’t it doll?”

“Y—” You paused as Tooru leaned up to your ear.

“Call him sir. He’ll lose it.”

Iwaizumi landed a quick smack on your ass and pushed in another finger.

“What did I say about your words? Does it feel good?”

“Yes, sir.” The words were rushed, nervous. You were sure Iwaizumi could hear the hesitation in your voice, but the low groan that left him was assurance enough.

“Oh, fuck. What a good girl.” You could hear him readjusting his pants and gasped when he pressed up against you from behind. “You gonna be good and take all of me? I know you can do it.” You hummed as he started pushing forward.

“Yes, sir.”

He laughed aloud and continued to slowly sheath himself inside of you. He was going agonizingly slow, and though you knew you needed time to adjust, all you wanted was more.

“That’s right, baby. Take him like you take me,” Tooru said, running his hands over your waist. “I’m still better, though. Right?” Iwaizumi finally bottomed out inside of you and you let out a short, strangled sound, pressing your forehead against Tooru’s. “See? You’ve sent her right back into my arms.”

“We’ll see about that.” Iwaizumi pulled back slowly, dragging a shocked gasp from your throat. “You can’t fill her up like this. Right, sweetheart? Tell me how full you are.”

“So full,” you groaned. As his hips pushed forward again you mumbled, “please.” His laugh was even louder this time.

“Please what? Come on.”

“Please fuck me, Iwa.”

“I think that’s what I’m doing right now. You asking for more?” He moved his hips quickly once and you moaned.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.” You leaned up and looked Tooru in the eye. “Yes, Hajime. Please fuck me harder.” His eyebrow raised and a smirk pulled at his lips.

“Oh, fuck.” Iwaizumi’s voice rumbled in his chest as he gripped your hips, snapping them against you hard and fast.

“Look at you, doll.” Tooru purred. “Taking his cock when I’m still inside of you. You that desperate? You want me to fuck you too?”

You nodded, face screwed up in a wince as Iwaizumi found a perfect angle inside of you.

“No sir for me? Greedy little thing. I guess you can have my cock. Next time you’ll have to beg.” He joined Iwaizumi in holding your hips, lifting them slightly off of him so he could gain leverage. Then he began slowly moving, cock dragging inside of you and, oh fuck, did it feel good to have both of them pushing inside of you. Tooru quickly build up his pace to match Iwaizumi’s, each of them thrusting into you at the same time. The feeling was overwhelming and quickly brought a sob to your lips.

“Aw, baby don’t cry. You were so ready for us. What happened?”

“Don’t be mean, Oikawa. She’s taking it well.”

“Sure, Iwa-chan, but she doesn’t seem very grateful, does she?” He grabbed your chin and brought your face up to look at him. “Say thank you.”

You choked on a moan as Tooru halted mid-thrust, pushing right up against where you wanted him most.

“Thank you,” you murmured. Tooru laughed.

“Come on, princess, Iwa-chan couldn’t hear you. Say it so he can hear it.”

“Thank you, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi let out a strained laugh but said nothing, too focused on the rock of his hips.

“Now me,” Tooru purred. There was a delicious glint in his eye. You couldn’t decide whether it was frightening or devastatingly sexy. “Say thank you, Tooru. Thank you for fucking you so well and letting my Iwa-chan have his way with you.”

“Thank you, Tooru,” you gasped. “For everything. Please.” You leaned forward and captured his lips. His eyes widened before settling into a smug expression.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum soon,” Iwaizumi said. Tooru broke your kiss.

“Not inside,” he warned. Iwaizumi scoffed.

Tooru seemed to realize that he was close as well, face screwing up and hips moving more erratically.

“Are you going to cum with us, princess? Make a mess all over our cocks?” You whimpered and buried your face into his neck. “I think that’s a yes, Iwa-chan. Just wait. She’s so pretty when she cums.”

“Tooru, please,” you begged, but you didn’t know what for. You were climbing fast, body giving in completely to the feeling of the two men inside of you. You felt so good and so full you almost couldn’t stand it.

“Be nice, Oikawa. Let her cum first.” Iwaizumi’s voice was strained.

“Won’t be too long, Iwa-chan. Just look at her.”

You were so close. You could almost taste the orgasm about to rack your body, more overwhelming than ever due to the second man buried inside of you.

“Please,” you begged, but you didn’t know who you were begging to. “Please, let me cum.”

“Let go, baby. We’ve got you,” Tooru said, staring past you at Iwaizumi. Your body locked up and you let out a small sobbing noise, tightening your grip on Tooru’s jersey. Your body shook and the men seemed to follow soon after you. Tooru mumbled a small flurry of “that’s it”s before holding your hips tight and spilling inside of you. Iwaizumi let out a long groan, continuing a slow slide in and out of you. Despite Tooru’s warning, Iwaizumi’s hips remained flush against your ass as he groaned through his orgasm, making you feel lightheaded but forcing a scowl onto Tooru’s face.

You all lay there panting for a moment, unsure of how and when to move. Your entire body was buzzing. The slightest movement forced a gasp, and a long hiss left your lips as Iwaizumi withdrew.

“Iwa-chan, what did I tell you?” Tooru said, but there was no fight in his voice. He sounded exhausted. Iwaizumi didn’t respond. He tucked himself back into his pants and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and rubbing your arm. He stared at you for a moment longer before smirking.

“Make sure you stretch before you leave, Oikawa. You missed the cool down at the end of the game.”

Then he turned on his heels and left the locker room, leaving you and Oikawa alone with the echoes of what you had just done.

———————————————————————

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#i’ll say it again #iwaizumi is the one character i don’t think i could dom #so…..this is the product #anyway happy b day tooru ily #i know it’s a lil late but i’ve got the spirit #there’s no one i’d rather have absolutely destroy my body 🥰#oikawa smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader x iwaizumi #iwaoi x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader

911 notes · View notes

realcube · 4 years

Text

saying things they don’t mean during an argument

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to anon for this request <3

characters ♡ msby black jackals (hinata, sakusa, atsumu, bokuto)

content warning ♡ angst, hurt to comfort, fluff, swearing, crying, adoption (sakusa’s) & suffocation (?)

kōtarō bokuto

♡ you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest - you knew he was a bit boyish sometimes but you never expected him to be so childish in regards to a simple request

♡ ‘bokuto, i have so much on my plate!’ you cried, tightly gripping the sheets underneath you, ‘planning the wedding, going to work, doing almost every chore in this damn house and filing all our fucking taxes!’

♡ you momentarily paused to look at him, expecting a look of sympathy but instead getting an eyeroll which prompted you to continue, ‘and all i am asking for is you to run a few errands! that’s it! why are you so opposed? i thought you enjoyed grocery shopping?!’

♡ bokuto pulled his night-shirt over his head as he stormed to his side of the bed, ‘it’s not fun without you!’ he whined childishly, plopping himself down next to you and gasping when you had the audacity to shuffle away from him

♡ ‘it’s not supposed to be fun, bokuto!’ you yelled, completely fed-up with him at this point, ‘a few errands, that’s all i ask of you!’

♡ bokuto notices how your voice shook and your lashline glistened; he didn’t want you to cry so he begrudgingly gave it, but with a strong comment to go along with it so you knew that he really didn’t want to

♡ 'fine! i don't need you anyway!'

♡ then proceeded to dramatically pull the duvet over himself and pout, averting his gaze to the wall opposite

♡ in this context, he hoped that you’d understand his comment and not take him too seriously but since you were already on the verge of tears, this simply pushed you over the edge

♡ you buried your face in your hands and hid under the blanket in hopes he didn’t realise you were crying but his senses are just different when it comes to you so try stifle that sob all you want, he’s still going to hear it and he’s still going to instantly pull you into his arms while frantically apologising

♡ ‘please don’t cry, (y/n)! i really didn’t mean it- i do need you! i love you so much, my life wouldn’t be the same without you! you do so much for me and i am so sorry for not showing you how grateful i am! like you’re so pretty and kind and talented and smart - only geniuses can do taxes - so i’m just so lucky to be with you and i can’t wait until we’re married. please, don’t leave!’

♡ eventually his praise slowly became pleas as he begged for you not to leave/hate him

♡ he does not want to lose you bc of a silly comment he made-

♡ eventually his endless pleas started to become more than background noise to your sobs, so you finally hugged him back, whispering, ‘i can’t wait to marry you too, kō.’

♡ this action lifted a massive weight off his chest and he let out an audible sigh of relief, his grip on you loosening, ‘mhm, and of course, i’ll run the errands, babe. i suppose, it’s the least i could do.’

♡ you hummed in agreement, glad that a part of your mental stress had been relieved, allowing you to finally relax in his arms and perhaps doze off in his loving embrace

♡ ...

♡ ‘mm, you smell like marshmallows, (y/n)- can i add marshmallows to the shopping list?’

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he spoke as if you were making some crazy, otherworldly request but in reality, all you were asking was for him to take paternity leave to help you care for the baby

♡ you’re not really a baby-expert so you thought that sakusa would be happy to stay home and learn how to care for the child with you - as a couple, as a team

♡ but he was extremely opposed to the idea, spewing out a much of nonsense as to why he needs to go to work, but a part of believed that he just didn’t want to deal with his child - or maybe, he didn’t want to deal with you

♡ ‘sakusa, how do you expect me to raise a whole baby on my own! they need a lot of attention - i don’t think you understand how big of a commitment this is, you can’t treat it like a hobby!’ you cried, having long before burst into tears because your mind told you the worse - that he didn’t actually love you, he lied about wanting a kid, he lied when he said ‘i do’.

♡ usually during arguments when he notices that you’ve started to cry, he’ll drop everything he was doing to shuffle over to you and wrap you in arms, then whisper sweet-nothings into your ear until you feel better but today, he showed little consideration to your emotions as he continued pacing through the living room while you bawled your eyes out on the couch

♡ ‘i thought you loved (c/n)! you were so gentle around them but it turns out you’re not even willing to take a paternity leave to help take care of them!’

♡ ‘what happened to the man i married?’

♡ ‘kiyoomi, you need to revaluate yourse--’

♡ you wouldn’t allow him to get a word in, which was probably for the best considering he had nothing good to say

♡ but you were forced to cut yourself off when heard the sound of shattering so you immediately search for the source of the noise and there stood sakusa, his hand resting on the decorative table in the place your framed wedding photo once was - now, it was laying smashed on the ground surrounded by it’s own glass shards

♡ he pushed it off like the petty bastard he was

♡ while you sat stunned, staring the mess he just voluntarily made, he quickly turned on his heel and strolled away at a leisurely pace, 'my life was a lot easier before you entered it.'

♡ that was the last you heard of it for the next three days - you were giving each other the silent treatment

♡ you couldn’t have any sort of grain for three whole days bc they are all on the top shelf and you usually make him grab it for you but you refused to talk to him-

♡ you were the first one to break it though as you noticed that he hadn’t went to work for the last three days and curiosity got the better of you

♡ ‘kiyoomi.’ you called out to him from the kitchen but he didn’t even look up from his book - ‘parenting for dummies’ - causing you to scoff, ‘why aren’t you going to work? did something happen?’

♡ finally, he sighed and shifted his gaze off his book but only to shoot you demeaning look, as if you were stupid, ‘paternity leave, duh.’

♡ the corners of your lips twitched into a smile, which you quickly forced away when you recalled the events that occurred three days ago and the hurtful things he said, instinctively looking over at the decorative table to remind yourself of what he did

♡ but to your surprise, the picture was no longer laying on the ground, pooling in shards of glass but rather, it sit on the table with a brand new frame - which had both of your initials engraved onto it along with the date of the ceremony

♡ you didn’t need to choke out an inquiry as sakusa noticed your stunned expression and answered on his own, ‘i bought a new frame. i hope you like it.’

♡ of course you liked it; this one was a chic black with silver decals which matched your living room aesthetic way better than the other, tacky blue one did - plus, this one was customised which made you love it even more

♡ ‘i do. i really do. but i don’t like your attitude lately.’ you muttered, shaking your head as you waddled over to the couch

♡ sakusa was quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you down next to him, ‘i’m sorry, love.’ his voice cracked slightly as he whispered in your ear, ‘i cannot put into words how much harder my life would be without you. i just..hope you understand.’

♡ it’s not that sakusa was bad with words; he was just too emotional and overwhelmed to produce a long, coherent sentiment for you so he just prayed that you recognized that everything he said on that day was meaningless

♡ ‘i love you, (y/n).’

atsumu miya

♡ you rolled your eyes, ignoring him and continuing to type your essay until atsumu slammed your laptop closed

♡ ‘please, (y/n)! you know how much this means to me! i’ve been waiting for this festival for years!’

♡ you scoffed, folding your arms and patiently waiting for him to move his filthy hand off your laptop, ‘i do and i’m proud of you. but i have a lecture that day and my exams are just around the corner - and you know how much my education means to me.’

♡ atsumu had to take a moment to suppress a gag at how sickening and condescending your tone was, ‘it’s just one lecture, (y/n)! you’re not going to fail your exams because you missed one lectu--’

♡ ‘you don’t know that.’

♡ atsumu blinked twice, a unimpressed expression painted on his face as he let out a sigh, realising there was no possible way he’s going to be able to get through to you - i mean, he’s been trying for the last 20 minutes to no avail

♡ he ran his hand through his hairs, turning on his heel, heading towards the door and left

♡ but not before peering over his shoulder to shoot you a nasty glare and spitting, ‘you’re so selfish. you can’t even do one thing that’d make me happy - you never can.’

♡ that was the final thing he said to you for the next....20 minutes

♡ that’s actually a new record for him - usually he storms out of the room, sulks for a minute or two then renters to beg for your forgiveness

♡ but not today. he was so mad that he needed 20 whole minutes to cool down and come to his senses

♡ but once he did, when he came back into the room, he expected to see you typing your essay or studying as usual since his words don’t usually effect you too much

♡ so of course he was shocked when he slipped back into your shared bedroom to see you with the duvet tossed over your whole figure, faint sobs coming from underneath

♡ his immediate reaction was to pull the blanket away and offer himself as your source of heat, so he wrapped you in his muscular embrace, ‘b-babe.’ he stuttered, eyes-wide as he never would’ve thought you’d take his words seriously, ‘are you okay?’

♡ he knew that was a stupid question but he simply asked it to determine how sad you were - and considering you weren’t able to babble out a reply, that wasn’t a good sign

♡ ‘you’re not selfish.’ he reassured you while rubbing circles on your back, ‘if anything, i was being selfish- and nothing makes me as happy as you do, (y/n). i- i really didn’t mean it.’

♡ he paused only to place a kiss on the top of your head, ‘i love you- and to show you how much i love you..i’ll drop you off at your lecture on that day, and take you to the festival afterwards; does that sound good?’

♡ you were finally able to choke out a response but only to explain how unachievable his idea was, ‘my lecture finishes at 5 and the festival ends at 7, and there is a 45 minute drive between the two- you’re only going to be able to spend a little over an hour there.’

♡ ‘and i’ll have a blast in that time!’

♡ you sighed, your lips twitching into a small smile as you buried your face into his chest as you really couldn’t look him in the eye, ‘and why can’t you just go without me again?’

♡ ‘who the fuck am i going to play dance dance revolution against if you don’t come?’

shōyo hinata

♡ you crossed your arms over your chest, internally regretting ever opening your mouth to try calm down fiancé as now, not only is he even more angry, but also most of his anger with now directed at you rather than manager, like it was previously

♡ eventually, you started to develop a headache from all his screaming and shouting so you politely asked him to calm down, to which he replied, ‘calm down?! you’re the one who made me mad with your rude-ass comment and now you’re telling me to calm down?!’

♡ you preferred it when he was demanding for you to say ‘butt’ instead of ‘ass’ because now that’s he spent more time with bokuto, he’s started swearing more often and to be honest, it’s scary when a 5″4 ginger sunshine is yelling at you, calling you a ‘rude-ass’

♡ ‘shōyō, if i’m completely honest, i have no idea why what i said was so mean and i have no idea what’s going on- why are you so mad at your manager?’

♡ suddenly, he twisted his neck to look at you as if you had just been possessed, ‘what?’ he inquired in a hushed tone, his voice hoarse and oddly sinister

♡ you quirked a brow, too tired of his constant bitching to pay attention to his tone of voice, ‘yeah, you speak too fast, shōyō.’ you said with a shrug, checking your nails to ensure that he knew that you truly did not care about how he scowled at you, ‘plus, i just don’t understand why this gets you so worked up - i try, i really do, but i guess your volleyball problems just go over my head.’

♡ hinata clenched his fist, realising that he wasn’t going to make any progress by complaining to you. he whipped his head away before storming off, not even sparing you a final glance, ‘you just don’t get it; you don’t understand anything i say and you don’t even make a fucking effort! you just think you are so much better than everyone - well, you’re not! try coming back down to reality with the rest of us, and then we can talk.’

♡ followed by a slam of the door which rattled through the whole apartment

♡ you really had never seen hinata so angry before in your 6 years of being together

♡ the words he said were far from pleasant and a part of you wondered in he genuinely meant them, perhaps he had been supressing those thoughts for ages and now that he was finally mad, he could let it all out

♡ though you tried to reassure yourself that everyone says things they don’t mean when they are angry, but the tears started flowing on their own

♡ hinata didn’t plan on seeing you for another few hours as he had the idea of heading over to bokuto’s, have a drink and cool down but when he hopped out the shower, he realised he had left his phone in the bedroom - where he left you.

♡ begrudgingly, he slid into the room with the intention of grabbing his phone then leaving but that went to shit when he noticed that you were bundled up under the blankets, and he could hear distant sniffles coming from underneath

♡ and hinata only has four moods: mad asf, happy asf, loving you & volleyball...asf

♡ so upon seeing you in such a state, presumably because of what he said, elicited his mood to change from ‘mad asf’ to ‘loving you’

♡ he pounced on you, causing you to fall sideways and squeal but he simply did not give a fuck

♡ ‘baby! i am so sorry! i didn’t think what i said would make you cry!’ he blubbered, or at least, that’s what it sounded like since you couldn’t actually see him due to the fact he had trapped you under the blankets, ‘i don’t know why i even said that! you’re not like that at all- i don’t think of you like that!’

♡ he paid little regard for your pleas of mercy as you squirmed frantically under the blanket, trying to escape his grip and body weight. he simply continued babbling on about how sorry he was and how amazing you are, ‘you are down here with the rest of us - i just said for no reason. please don’t be mad! you are - what does bokuto call it again? - oh! a humble--’

♡ ‘shōyō! i’ll forgive you if you get off me right now - i can hardly breathe!’

2K notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Nie Huaisang hasn’t found anyone to do the body sacrifice ritual for him, and so in desperation he tries it himself. However, the ritual was not designed with a Nie cultivator in mind—something Nie Huaisang does not realize until he’s doubled over on the floor, far too close to a qi deviation, because his (admittedly tiny) saber spirit has been replaced with Wei Wuxian.

ao3

Well, that was the dumbest thing ever.

The thought so closely matched Wei Wuxian’s that he didn’t even notice that it wasn’t his own.

How could you be so stupid? Wei Wuxian tried to shout at Nie Huaisang, who was curled up gasping on the floor. The floor, which was stained with Nie Huaisang's own blood, with cuts he had made himself on himself, with the ancient body sacrifice summoning that – that –

Don’t you realize that you’d be gone? You absolute idiot! Wei Wuxian howled, even though he wasn’t actually a person right now. He didn’t know what he was, a ghost or spirit, maybe, but he was there and he was angry and Nie Huaisang’s arms were covered in blood from where he’d cut himself up in order to destroy his own soul – Nie Huaisang, the mincing sensitive little master who would complain for three weeks about having stubbed his toe! – and his robes that he had always taken such great care to keep clean and neat were a mess and he was bleeding from the nose and eyes and ears because something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong, and Wei Wuxian hated to be grateful for it because he didn’t want to be brought back by Nie Huaisang’s death.

Not anyone’s death, really, but definitely not Nie Huaisang, who’d never hurt him or treated him badly. Even when the whole world had hated and reviled Wei Wuxian, isolating him in Yiling on the Burial Mounds, Nie Huaisang hadn’t – he’d waved jauntily to him during Phoenix Mountain, and Wei Wuxian had never doubted that if he’d somehow found his way to Qinghe, Nie Huaisang would have treated him just the same as always.

You – you –! You good-for-nothing!

“Don’t be rude,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, slowly uncurling. “Didn’t bring you back to be rude to me.”

You know what you’ve done, then? You could have died!

“Was I supposed to let someone else do it?” Nie Huaisang rubbed at his face with his sleeve, then frowned at the blood on it. “I thought about it, but I really just – couldn’t.”

So you decided to kill yourself?

“It’s like you said, Wei-xiong. I’m a good-for-nothing. I couldn’t – I can’t – I can’t fix this. So why not bring back someone who can?”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have words to express how much that was not all right with him.

Go fix yourself, he ordered. I don't care what 'this' is; I’m not talking to you until you get cleaned up.

“After all that work I did? Wei-xiong…”

Nope! You’re not dying, so you can get cleaned up before we talk, and that’s that. I still can’t believe you nearly – I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted anyone to get hurt for me.

“Wei-xiong, you’re being silly. Who said I did it for you?”

Wei Wuxian would have stared if he had eyes.

“I did it for me,” Nie Huaisang said, and finally he got up properly and staggered over to a basin to start washing himself clean. “Obviously! I'm incredibly self-absorbed. It’s about what I need from you…hey, how did you come back? I thought the ritual only worked if I died.”

It should have, Wei Wuxian agreed, unwillingly intrigued by it. I don’t know, actually. It’s strange: it should have either worked, in which case you’d be dead and I’d be possessing your body, or else not worked at all, in which case I shouldn’t be here.

“I always mess things up.”

No, really, I don’t think you messed this up? The array is perfect. There’s no reason for it not to have worked.

“These cuts won’t heal,” Nie Huaisang observed, looking at his arms. “Did I accidentally curse myself to fulfill my obligations? Ugh, why.”

As the person you were going to impose said obligations on, I’m now going to laugh at you. Hahahahaha –

“Shut up, Wei-xiong. Where are you, anyway? I don’t see any ghostly figures that might be you, and anyway, we’re in the Unclean Realm; there are ghost-repelling arrays in every stone.”

I don’t know, Wei Wuxian said, and then something else said, Ghost-repelling arrays only repel ghosts.

At first Wei Wuxian thought that it was Nie Huaisang who had said that, and he was about to ask what he meant by that, only Nie Huaisang got there first and said, “What do you mean, Wei-xiong? Are you not a ghost?”

I didn’t say that, Wei Wuxian said. That – wasn’t me.

“Who was it?”

Me.

“…Wei-xiong…?”

No, that wasn’t me. I mean, it wasn’t me that said ‘me’ just now!

Of course not, the voice said, and it was Wei Wuxian’s voice – or not-voice, anyway, whatever it was that he was using to communicate – but not Wei Wuxian speaking. It was me, of course. Master forgot to account for me in his array.

What? Wei Wuxian asked, utterly confused, but apparently that made more sense to Nie Huaisang because his knees went weak and he fell down on his ass.

“Aituan?” he gasped. “I – what – is that you?”

Yes.

Can I interrupt? Wei Wuxian asked. Who – or what – is Aituan?

“My saber!”

Your – what?!

Nie Huaisang attempted to explain. It ended up being a fairly long explanation, involving his sect’s cultivation style, saber spirits, and his own personal saber spirit, which was named Aituan, and which Nie Huaisang swore up and down did not speak prior to this.

Of course not, the voice now known as Aituan said irritably. Why would I speak? I’m a saber. We’re sensible, not like you humans – but now you’ve shoved a human spirit in with me, so what am I supposed to do? Not use his abilities as my own?

I feel like I should feel violated, Wei Wuxian said.

“When in fact you think it’s really neat?”

…yeah, basically.

Aituan huffed. Can we get back to the part where we plan a murder? he (it?) whined.

Sorry, Aituan, Wei Wuxian said. No murder.

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Actually, about that…”

I think we should kill him.

“I can’t do that!”

Dunno, I think Aituan has a point, Wei Wuxian said. We should probably just kill him.

“You’re supposed to be helping me, Wei-xiong!”

I’m helping! I’m a saber now, I can totally help you stab him.

“Not helpful!”

I like this human, Aituan declared. Good human. Proper blade on his hilt.

You mean head on my shoulders?

Whatever.

Nie Huaisang threw his hands up in annoyance. “Would either of you like to remember the part where I can’t actually fight? San-ge would beat me black and blue if I so much as picked up a pocket-knife in his presence!”

Get someone else to help, Wei Wuxian suggested pitilessly.

“I tried! You!”

Someone else.

“Like who?”

Hmm. Lan Zhan? He’s great.

“I don’t know. He’s er-ge’s brother, isn’t he? He might not believe me…” Nie hUaisang grimaced. “He hasn’t been much inclined to believe me before.”

Why doesn’t the loudmouth do the talking? Aituan suggested.

Oh, that’s a good idea! Lan Zhan was always inclined to listen to me before.

“I thought you said he hated you?”

He still listened!

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh.

Your other alternative is stabbing your enemy directly, Aituan said. If you’d like to give it a try…

“…I’ll talk to Lan Zhan.”

“I can’t believe you’re perving after my saber,” Nie Huaisang complained.

I can’t believe Lan Zhan likes me! I mean, likes me!

I can’t believe I’m still stuck here with you idiots. Can I go share bodies with Baxia instead?

Lan Wangji just looked awkward.

Some people might mistake it for looking noble and genteel, but by now they all knew: it was just him being horribly awkward.

“I have no such intentions,” he said stiffly. “Only – if it was possible for Wei Ying to exit the saber…”

Nie Huaisang grimaced, humor falling away. “I…don’t really know about that.”

Wait, wait, wait. If I can’t – if I’m stuck as a saber – I can’t – but I really want to kiss Lan Zhan! This isn’t fair! I don’t want to have to wait until I reincarnate.

You won’t reincarnate, Aituan said. You’re a saber. Unless we’re melted down or get ground down by time…

No!

“Surely there has to be some way. Aituan, stop being a part of the problem and start being a part of the solution.”

Fine. Let him possess you.

“…what.”

He just needs a human body, right? Let him possess you. Problem solved.

I can do that?

Technically, I can do that, and you can do it because I can do it. But we’d need Master’s permission.

“There are many, many, many books about why you don’t grant your saber permission to possess you. Anyway, that’s my body!”

Yeah, I guess it would be weird for you to kiss Lan Zhan, would it?

“I mean, not really? He’s very pretty. I could swing it.”

You could?

“…you could swing what,” Lan Wangji said.

“Having Wei-xiong possess me,” Nie Huaisang explained. “So that he and you can get the whole missed opportunity thing out of your system.”

Lan Wangji’s face did a few strange things.

"Assuming that it wouldn't be an issue for you, that is, it being me on the other side..."

"No," Lan Wangji said, and cleared his throat. "That would be - fine."

Ooooooh. Does Lan Zhan like you, too?

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous, Lan Zhan doesn't like me like that."

He'd be willing to kiss you.

"Physical attraction isn't the same thing," Nie Huaisang argued. "Lan Zhan, you're with me on this, right? You wouldn't be interested in -"

Lan Wangji cut him off.

A few moments later, he pulled back and said, thoughtfully, "As suspected. It is fine."

Nie Huaisang opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"...well then," he said blankly, then frowned. “Aituan, can I revoke permission for possession?”

No idea. You'd just have to trust that we'd give it back; it's a risk you'd have to take.

“…well, as illustrated, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. Let’s try it, and then once everyone’s a little more focused we can go do what we need to do. Sound good?”

“I really didn’t expect you to start a relationship Nie Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said to Lan Wangji, not long before the end. He sounded deeply puzzled. “I didn’t think you liked him like that.”

“Not by himself,” Lan Wangji said with a shrug. “But he’s good in company.”

“…you’re with other people too? Both of you?”

“Mm.”

Lan Xichen, knowing his younger brother’s reticent temper, especially of late, declined to ask who the other parties were. “Doesn’t that make things crowded?” he asked instead.

“…surprisingly no,” Lan Wangji said. “Not as much as you’d think.”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #wangxiansang #my fic #my fics #crowded

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

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

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

#disaster lineage #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #jango fett #jaster mereel #time travel #mandalore #tatooine #de aging #babies #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

When They’re Whipped For You ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

The moment you heard that Jin had plans with the boys for the evening, your stomach dropped, turning to face him in confusion.

“I thought you agreed to come with me to the works dinner tonight?” You asked once he’d finished telling you all about what the boys had planned to do together.

“Oh,” he sighed, looking away from your eyes as a hand ran through his hair. “I can text the boys and cancel, I completely forgot about your dinner. We can always meet up another night when I’m free.”

You sighed at the panic in his voice, “I can go to the dinner by myself, it’s really no big deal.”

At your words, his head shook instantly, “there’s no way I’m going back on my promise to you. I’ll just tell the boys I didn’t check the calendar properly, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“It’s alright,” you laughed, walking across to him, “I know you’d much prefer to spend the evening with the boys instead of my colleagues, so just go with them.”

“I’m not going with the boys,” he continued to argue, “you’re the one I sorted things with first, and it’s you who I’ll spend my evening with too.”

“Damn Jin, you really are a sucker for me sometimes.”

Yoongi:

When Yoongi returned to the group with his basket full, all eyes flickered down to look at all of the things he’d purchased on his trip.

“I’m guessing those aren’t for you,” Jungkook giggled, shyly pointing to a box of tampons that sat on the top of his basket. “Has Y/N got you shopping for her now too?”

“She needs them,” Yoongi quickly defended, “and when you all get girlfriends, you’ll understand how difficult a period can be for them. She’s hardly in a state to be able to go to the shop herself.”

All of them rolled their eyes at how defensive he was, “you’re a sucker for her, she’s got you whipped.”

Yoongi’s head shook at Jimin’s words, “shopping for my girlfriend does not make me whipped, it just makes me a kind and caring boyfriend, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“If you’re not whipped, why are you arguing so badly?” Namjoon laughed back at him, “there’s nothing wrong with being whipped, I’m sure Y/N loves all the control too.”

“I know that none of you would ever say this in front of Y/N,” Yoongi sniggered, “but I could always record it for her if you guys wanted me to?”

“No way, she’d kill us if she knew what we said.”

Hoseok:

The squeal that came from you was huge as you walked into the kitchen to see a spider darting across the floor, calling out Hobi’s name quickly.

“Help,” you whimpered as he ran into the room, pointing to the insect. Straight away, Hobi ran over and placed his hands around it, taking it out into the garden.

“It’s gone,” he smiled, brushing his hands off before closing the door, spinning around to see a wide smirk plastered across your face. “Why are you looking at me like I’ve done something wrong?”

Your head shook, “you’ve done nothing wrong I just love seeing how whipped you are for me.”

“I’m not,” he protested, shaking his head back at you, “I just know how scared you are of stuff like this, so I thought I’d get it out before it managed to get away.”

Your eyebrows raised at his statement, “you’re usually terrified of spiders, and yet you caught that one without even thinking, that means you’re whipped.”

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, moving across the room to wrap his arms around you, “would you prefer it if I wasn’t whipped for you though?”

“No way, I love that you’ll do absolutely anything for me.”

Namjoon:

The guilt hit him as soon as he shook Yoongi awake, taking a step back as his eyes opened and glanced across at the clock beside him.

“Could you do me a favour?” Namjoon questioned from beside him, “I need someone to pick Y/N up from the club she’s at, I offered to get her, but I can’t really get there.”

“Really?” Yoongi frowned, “it’s four in the morning, why would you offer to get her when you can’t drive?” He sighed, “and why did I have to be the one that you decided to wake up at this time?”

Namjoon frowned across at him, “please, I can’t leave her there on the streets at a time like this.”

With a sigh, Yoongi sat himself up on his bed, “I know that you’d do absolutely anything for her, but that doesn’t mean that all of us would do anything for Y/N too Joon.”

“I know,” he admitted, “but I really do appreciate you doing this, I’ll find a way to make it up to you too, prove how grateful I am for what you’re doing.”

“Go and get my car keys and I’ll be down in five,” Yoongi instructed as he pushed the duvet away from his body, “but you do owe me a big one for this.”

“And I’ll pay you back for it, don’t you worry Yoongi.”

Jimin:

Your smile grew as you walked out of your office and saw Jimin sat outside of the building with the car door opened, waiting for you.

“You even get him to pick you up?” Your colleague chuckle from beside you, nudging gently at your side, “you really have got him wrapped around your finger.”

“I didn’t ask him to come and pick me up,” you laughed, meeting his eyes for the first time as he noticed you. “I guess he just enjoys doing all of these things for me instead.”

Your colleague sighed back at you, “he’s whipped for you, he really would do anything for you.”

A gentle blush found its way onto your cheeks, “I wouldn’t say no to a lift home in this weather anyway, it’s freezing. He’s a bit like a knight in shining armour really.”

“Maybe I need to find me a Jimin,” she teased, pushing you gently in the direction of the car. “Hurry, you don’t want to leave him waiting.”

“He’d wait all day for me,” you proudly smiled, “you really do need to find yourself a Jimin, it’s nice knowing that someone would do anything for you.”

“For you, he definitely would do absolutely anything!”

Taehyung:

The confusion on your expression grew as you tried to figure out where each screw went in attempting to build your new beside table.

“This is stupid,” you muttered under your breath, glancing back yet again to see if Taehyung had noticed you. “Who invents furniture with instructions as messed up as this.”

“Y/N,” he laughed from the sofa, “I know what you’re getting at, all you had to do was ask me for a hand and I would’ve come and helped you,” he sniggered, rolling his eyes at your obvious signs.

Your smile grew gently, “I really did want to try and figure it all out for myself before I asked you.”

His head shook as he sat down on the floor beside you, “there’s no way you would’ve done this by yourself, I know you wanted me to do this for you from the start.”

“No,” you argued, but as he stared back at you, you knew he could read you as if you were a book. “Did I really make it that obvious that I needed your help.”

“Yes,” he sniggered, “I just wanted to see how long it would take before you caved. One way or another, I was going to be the one building this unit.”

“In that case, I guess I’ll just leave you to it, shall I?”

Jungkook:

Throughout the entirety of the conversation over dinner that evening, Jungkook could only sit with a frown as he listened to their plans.

“Kook, you’ve been quiet,” Jin spoke up when he noticed the youngest staring off into the distance as they tried to arrange a time to all meet up again.

“I promised Y/N that we’d go out for dinner tonight,” he admitted, shyly looking away as the groans inevitably came from the rest of the boys that were sat around him.

Taehyung was the first to nudge against his side, “you only went out for dinner a few days ago?”

Jungkook nodded shamefully back at him, “there’s this restaurant she’s been dying to try, and we’ve finally got a reservation, I can’t go back on my word now.”

“What happened to the bro code?” Hobi teased, staring across at him, “are you bailing on us? Are we finally losing you to love and your relationship?”

“No,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in defence, “what if we switch dinner until tomorrow night, I’m available then without any plans, no doubt about it at all.”

“We might as well claim you before Y/N does.”

---

Masterlist

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softyoongiionly · 4 years

Text

chapstick

based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on.

Jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Genre: fluff, smut, established relationship, jungkook has a man bun idk what else I could possibly want

Warnings: language, explicit smut (18+ only plz), oral (male receiving)

A/N: Hello yes, I am mess. I wrote this in like four hours and it’s unedited but wow wow wow wow I am GOING THROUGH it for Jungkook. Anywayz, I love u. here u go

Jungkook is in a bad mood today.

He’s been awake since 6am, he hasn’t eaten since mid-morning and, he’s been practicing for over 12 hours.

Worst of all, everyone else seems to be in a good mood.

It’s not that he hates when his hyung's are happy, it’s just that when you’re in a bad mood- sometimes the shriek of someone’s laughter can feel intrusive.

“Alright!” Hoseok’s voice hits the practice mirrors and with Jungkook feeling oversensitive, he cringes at the sound of it, “Let’s go again from the top!”

Jungkook sighs through his nose, stretching his sore back for a moment before getting back into formation.

“Jungkook-ah! Push a little harder in the second half ok?!”

Hoseok is in dance-mode and therefore he has no idea how loud he’s being.

Jungkook purses his lips and nods, taking a deep breath before shaking out his hands.

“Yah! Jungkook?” Hoseok calls, facing the mirror, his eyes searching for Jungkook at the back of the practice room.

“Yeh.” He grunts, barely looking up from the floor.

“Did you hear me?”

He nods, his hands fumbling around in the pockets of his sweatpants, “Push harder in the second half...”

The rest of the boys seem unphased by his uninterested demeanor. They are no stranger to exhaustion.

“Alright- let’s go.”

For what feels like the 100th time today, Jungkook moves through the routine as if it were second nature. The movements feel robotic and the muscles in his arms are beginning to turn to Jell-O. The strands of his hair are covered with sweat and, he’s thankful for his newly procured undercut for lessening the amount of heat he’d normally feel after working out this long.

He feels gross though.

Normally, he enjoys working this hard but today he isn’t feeling it. In fact, the strain between his brows is getting a little painful as he really tries his best not to frown.

The new choreography is intense and as much he likes the challenge- after the 100th time of running through it, he’s starting to get frustrated.

Panting through his nose, he holds his position at the end of the routine before Hoseok finally calls it.

“Yahhhh! That was a lot better huh? You guys did good.” He praises, clapping his hands, “Now go get some water and then we’ll run it again...”

Jungkook sighs hopelessly, letting his head fall back on his shoulders. He cringes at the feeling of sweat collecting on his skin, wanting nothing more than to make it back home to his shower.

Amongst other things...

Grabbing a bottle of water off of the table, Jungkook has to work very hard not to crush the bottle in his hands as he eagerly gulps down what he can. He finishes the bottle in record time and as he reaches for a second one, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check it.

Tweety: hiii I hope you’re having a good day! Do you want to takeout tonight? I got caught up at the school and, I didn’t pull anything out.

Jungkook feels his tight chest loosen up a bit as he sees your text come through.

You made a comment one day that he ‘gives off bugs bunny vibes’ and he responded by comparing you to Tweety bird.

Needless to say, the nicknames are dumb but you guys think they’re cute.

Bugs: takeout sounds good. I’ll be there late tonight though :/ I hope you had a good day too. Miss u.

Jungkook has just enough time to respond to you before he is wincing at the sound of Hoseok corralling everyone back to the practice floor.

Again, again, again, again, and again...

He’s so tired by the end of the circuit that he’s starting to feel throbbing in his temples. Headaches are a common side effect of over-exertion and just as he is getting ready to beg to go home, they are calling it.

“Ok ok- good job! You’ve worked hard everyone. Let’s rest for a day and then resume on Sunday.”

Jungkook feels his entire body deflate with relief at the last words parading out of Hoseok’s mouth.

His day is finally over.

He reminds himself to never wear new boots to rehearsal again because he can’t feel the tips of his toes and his fairly certain there are blisters on the of his ankles.

“Are you riding with me?” Jimin asks him on the way out of the practice room, his voice decorated with exhaustion.

Jungkook doesn’t fully pay attention to his question, his eyes already trained on his phone.

“No, I’m getting my own car.”

Jimin looks confused for a moment before a small smirk comes over his face.

“Are going to see her?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond quick enough, his mouth parted slightly as he types out his message to you.

“Aren’t you worried what people are going to think? You’re over there a lot...”

Jimin isn’t being judgmental with his questioning and Jungkook knows this. He can hear the genuine concern in his voice and understands that his hyung is merely looking out for him.

“I don’t really care what people think anymore.” He answers honestly, ensuring that he keeps his tone as polite as possible.

Jungkook’s had to worry about the opinions of others since he was 15. As grateful as he is for his career, he is growing tired of being unable to make his own decisions. His gaze hones in on the tattoos covering his fingers and forearms and remembers a time not too long ago where he was required to hide them. Putting a band aids on his own self-expression didn’t feel good and he sort of promised himself that he wouldn’t allow the expectations of others to stop him from doing what he wanted.

Or seeing who he wanted...

“You’re getting bolder with age.” Jimin notes, somewhat proudly as his eyes flicker over to him, “You really like her, don’t you?”

Tweety: miss u toooooo. I ordered ramen

Bugs: I just got out. I should be there in 20 minutes. I’m so hungry

Jungkook feels his cheeks heat up at Jimin’s question and rather than answer him, he just kind of shrugs, his mouth turned up in a small smirk.

“Yah, don’t hold out on me-”Jimin bumps his shoulder, tilting his head in an attempt to get him to look his way, “We’ve known each other for how long?”

Jungkook slips his phone back into his pocket and adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

“I think the answer is obvious hyung.”

Jimin rolls his eyes playfully, “If it’s so obvious then why don’t you just say it.”

The two of them lean against the wall of the lobby, waiting on a notification from their drivers that they are outside.

Jungkook bites his lip, in an attempt to reign in the grin that threatens his face.

“I like her.”

Laughter trickles out of Jimin’s lips as he bumps his shoulder, “Why are you shy all of the sudden? Is there something else I don’t know?”

Yes.

There was something else Jimin didn’t know.

Jungkook hasn’t told a single soul since it happened.

He’s so incredibly private and after meeting you, he only has more of an urge to keep things to himself.

“There’s nothing.” Jungkook mutters, his eyes eagerly looking checking his phone for the driver notification.

“You’re lying to me.” Jimin calls him out, “What is it?”

Jungkook shakes his head, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. He licks over his lips and immediately regrets the fact that he forgot his Chapstick.

How’s he supposed to kiss you, if his lips are chapped?

“Jungkook-ah, tell me-” Jimin whines, tugging on his sleeve.

He merely snickers finally and shrugs him off, shaking his head, “There’s nothing to tell. Why do you think I’m hiding something from you?”

“Because I’ve known you for almost ten years and I-” Jimin begins before a knowing smirk comes over his face, “Wait- you’ve slept with her haven’t you?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen a bit, taken aback by his bold statement, “Someone’s going to hear you, why are you asking questions like this?”

His hyung giggles, deeply satisfied with his discovery, “You have, haven't you?”

Jungkook feels the threat of a smile come over his face again, “Why do you want to know? It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters-” He shoots him a pointed look, “Because we’re best friends? And I want to know. When did it happen?”

Jungkook is feeling a little bit bolder, unable to help the pride he feels that he was finally able to experience an intimate relationship, “Which time?”

Jimin’s eyes widen before he slaps Jungkook on the arm, “Which time??? You’ve done it more than once?”

“Shhh-” Jungkook whisper yells, his brow furrowing, “We’ve been seeing eachother for 6 months. Why do you look so surprised?”

Jimin chuckles this time, glancing behind him, “I just- I don’t know...it was your first time, wasn’t it? I just thought you’d make a bigger deal of it.”

He shrugs again, a smirk still lingering, “It was a big deal- to us. I thought you guys would just figure it out eventually.”

Ever the nosy one, Jimin slinks a little closer to him, a bit of mischief in his eyes, “It’s fun huh?”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, brushing him off playfully, “I thought I was supposed to be the youngest.”

Jimin ignores his comment and just looks at him expectantly.

Giving up on holding out, Jungkook finally gives him what he wants and replies.

“It was fun.”

Jimin offers his signature bit of laughter again but before he’s able to interrogate him any further, Jungkook finally gets the notification that his driver is here.

“I’ll see you Sunday, hyung.” Jungkook gives him a short wave before adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

Jimin smirks and flutters his fingers in his direction, “Have fun.”

Jungkook just shakes his head, groaning to himself as he finally leaves the building.

Slumping into his seat, he shuts his eyes for a moment and tries his best not to fall asleep. Thankfully, his desire to eat his weight in ramen paired with his desire to see you keeps him from passing out.

You and Jungkook have been together for a while now and although the initial nerves surrounding seeing him have lessened slightly, you still want to look good for him. Thankfully for you, when it comes to impressing your boyfriend- less is more.

Slowly but surely, he has revealed his preferences to you but they have slipped out casually. He doesn’t ever want you to feel like you have to look a certain way for him.

But you do know he likes black.

And you do know he likes when you wear oversized pieces.

The harsh bit of winter also makes dressing in gigantic hoodies and thick socks a lot easier anyhow.

So you opt for something along the lines of cute but comfy and tend to your hair the easiest way you know how.

Jungkook also loves it when you don’t wear any makeup. But he’s never told you directly, you’ve just figured out based on the way he gets all starry eyed every time you wash your face at night.

The ramen is all set up in the living room and you’ve got one of the Christmas movies the two of you started the other day, ready to play.

By the time you hear a knock at your door, everything is ready for a cozy Friday night with your boyfriend.

Upon opening your door, you are met with the sight of Jungkook- sweaty, soft and slightly sleepy standing there in all of his glory. He’s dressed in grey sweats and a big white t-shirt, his hair tied up messily atop his head. Along with the smell of sweat, you can faintly make out the remnants of his cologne and it stirs something deep inside of you.

Jungkook’s eyes scan over you briefly, offering a small smile as he leans in to peck your cheek, “Hiiii...”

He sings the greeting, patting your hips as he quickly steps into your apartment.

“Hello,” You sing back, giggling a bit, “Did you guys just now finish up practicing? Didn’t you start at like 7?”

Jungkook winces as he begins slipping off his big clunky boots, leaning back against your front door, “Yeah. I really thought they were trying to kill me- I did the new dance so many times, I lost count.”

Pouting your lips, you take his bag off his shoulder and hang it up on your coat rack.

“I’m so sorry.” You murmur, shaking your head, “Did they give you tomorrow off at least?”

At this, Jungkook grins, nodding as he does, “Yeah, I was going to ask you what you were doing tomorrow cause I thought maybe you’d want to hang out. Our night was supposed to start a lot earlier...”

He looks regretful and even slightly annoyed.

He’s been having this issue a lot lately where his prior obligations and engagements seem to mean nothing to his directors, which never used to be a big deal but, now that he has you in his life- he never wants to let you down.

“I’m free all day-” You reply happily, before narrowing your eyes at him, “I have one condition though-”

Jungkook looks intrigued, cocking his head as he steps forward, “What’s your condition?”

“I need one of these...” Pointing to your lips, you pucker them and make grabby hands at your boyfriend.

He laughs softly, shaking his head as he closes the space between you, “I just got here and you’re already using kisses as collateral now huh?” His voice gets a little lower and before you can reply, his gently places his lips on yours, sighing out through his nose as his flutter shut.

Once he starts kissing you, you aren’t really able to think of a coherent response. Leaning into him, you hum lightly in your throat, tucking your lips between his.

However, when you attempt to slide your hand up the exposed skin of his arm, he winces and pulls away.

Groaning, you can’t help but giggle, “I know- I know... ‘babe, I’m too sweaty. Let me just shower really quick and then I’ll promise, I'll kiss you so much better’...”

At your attempt to imitate his voice, Jungkook starts laughing- cute nose scrunched up with delight.

He kisses his teeth, “You know me too well. I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook leans in again and kisses you on the cheek before disappearing into your bathroom moments later

After his showering, he comes out in a baggy t-shirt and some sweats, his hair freshly blow dried and piled up on his head in a messy bun.

He scarfs down his dinner in record time before the two of you settle back against the couch.

You can feel him looking at you as you giggle at the TV but he doesn’t let his eyes linger very long. He just kind of stares for a moment before simply tightening his grip around your shoulders. He feels so warm beside you that you seriously wonder how long you’ll be able to stay awake with him being the human equivalent of a weighted blanket.

When your laughter erupts again, Jungkook leans in to pop a kiss on your check, which broadens your smile that much more. It’s only for a moment before he turns back to the TV, seemingly satisfied with his actions. However, you decide to return the favor and smoosh your lips against his face, eliciting a snicker from his throat.

You snuggle into him more, grabbing his arm that’s resting on the couch beside you and wrapping it around so that his hand is resting your lap. Leaning your head against his chest, you slowly began tracing over the markings on his skin lightly brushing your nails against each unique line. Jungkook’s eyes are trained on the TV and despite his blank expression, you can see the goosebumps forming on his skin.

Regardless, you just keep going, allowing your fingertips to trace over the letters adorning his hand. Using your nails, you trace between each of his fingers, before interlocking them your own. Once you’re holding hands, Jungkook squeezes slightly, brushing his thumb along your skin which then prompts you to finally to turn to the side and look at him.

He grins softly, still not glancing your way but choosing to offer a playful comment instead, “You’re not watching the movie...”

You laugh softly, reaching out with your free hand and tilting his face towards you.

“We’ve watched this movie four times-” You retort, “Besides I’m pretty sure I remember you promising me that you’d kiss me properly once you were out of the shower.”

Jungkook’s grin broadens, his doe-eyes alight with defiance, “I’m pretty sure you promised yourself that for me- I don’t remember agreeing to it.”

You scoff in mock offense, “Damn ok. So it’s like that huh? I buy you ramen and yet this is how I’m treated. I’m calling the UN...”

Jungkook laughs a little harder now, the sound a little sharp but intensely endearing, “It’s that serious for you?”

Pouting, you nod, “It is that serious.” You’re about to say something else before you brush your thumb over his lips and notice the dryness there, “Did you remember to bring your chapstick today?”

He immediately sucks his lips between his teeth and given that his ability to speak is no compromsied he simply nods, his eyes wide with false innocence.

“Mhmmm.” He lies

“No you didn’t!” You exclaim, laughing a bit as you press your thumb against the thin line of his mouth, “Babe, it’s so cold outside- your lips are going to start cracking.”

Unfurling his lips, he lets his head fall back on his shoulders, “I know, I know-” He whines playfully before his head snaps back up to yours, the same glint remaining in his gaze, “You have some right?”

You roll your eyes, “You know that I do.”

He snickers, quickly leaning in to kiss your cheek, “Can I have some then?”

Playfully shoving him off, you rise from the couch and shake your head, “I’m giving you one to keep in your rehearsal bag,” You shuffle over to your bathroom, “You better use it!”

He laughs as he hears your demand echo down the hallway before calling back, “Hurry jagi! They are so dry- I can feel them! They are so close to cracking!”

Seconds later, your hurling one of your many lip balms into his lap which he catches just before it hits him.

“Put it on...” You demand pointedly and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think I can-” He sighs dramatically, holding the lip balm out to you, “You have to do it- all of the moisture in my body is slowly fading away...my lips are trying to suck it all up.”

Giggling, you cross your arms, shaking your head, “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Y/N! Please!” Jungkook chokes out, “Before I waste away...the winter-” His eyes bug out of his head, as his hand clutches his chest, “the winter jagi- it's going to dry me out completely.”

Finally snapping, you grab the Chapstick out of his hands before asserting yourself into his lap. He laughs, resting his head against the couch cushions whilst his hands sneakily find their way to your hips.

“You’re so annoying...” You grumble, still giggling yourself as he puckers his lips dramatically.

“I’m only following your recommendations.” He insists, making kissy noises at you, “Balm me up baby.”

Uncapping the chapstick, you press your chest against his before starting to drag it over his lips. As you get to work on helping him, his mischievous gaze slowly softens until he’s looking up at you with stars in his eyes. Carefully, you make sure every inch of his mouth is covered with balm, paying special attention to the corners and his lower lip. As you finish up, you put the cap back on set on the couch cushion.

He rubs his lips together, humming in satisfaction.

You smirk, “Better?”

Jungkook nods his Adams’ apple bobbing in his throat as he feels you shift on his hips.

“Make sure.” He murmurs, puckering his lips, his eyes starting to swim with arousal.

You lean in, unable to refuse him before capturing his mouth in a kiss. Rotating your head, you slowly deepen the connection between your lips, drawing a sigh from the boy beneath you. You can feel his thumbs rub ever so gently against the back of your hips as he leans fully back so that your chest is resting on his.

He nudges your nose, allowing his tongue to brush against the bottom of your top lip, requesting entrance into your mouth. You accept him, licking along his tongue, a shiver running up your spine as he sucks slightly on the top of you.

Jungkook really is a filthy kisser but you’d never guess by just looking at him.

He’s quite sure his face is growing numb, his only focus on the way you’re making him feel and a somewhat annoying pain on the back of his head. His ponytail is digging against the wall, causing unnecessary discomfort to wash over him. Still kissing you, he reaches behind his head to pull the hair tie out, allowing his hair to fall freely around his face. You take the opportunity to slide your fingers between the strands, scratching gently at his scalp and causing a slightly shaky breath to leave his lips.

He loves when you play with his hair.

You use both hands now to tuck it behind his ear before using them to slide down the length of his arms. Finding his hands on your hips, you lace your fingers with his and bring them back up so they are pinned against either side of his head.

The making out didn’t get him fully hard but as soon as he feels his hands pinned against the head of the couch, he feels his dick twitch almost painfully in his sweatpants.

Smirking into his mouth, you delight in the sudden halt to his breathing. Subtly, he pushes his hips up a bit when you start kissing your way down his chin and throat. Jungkook summons all the resolve he has and goes perfectly still when you start placing soft kisses along the expanse of his throat. You feel the ache between your legs worsen when you feel his fingers tightening against yours. Jungkook is a very sensitive person, both emotionally and physically. Over the time you’ve become intimate, you’ve slowly uncovered all the little spots that drive him crazy.

And you’re determined to kiss every single one.

“You had a hard day huh?” You murmur sweetly, kissing up the right side of his neck.

All he does is nod, his eyes falling shut as he feels your lips getting closer to his earlobe.

Placing another kiss at his hairline, you slowly kiss along the bottom half of his ear before capturing it between your teeth.

His breath immediately leaves his lips in a shaky mess, his eyes squeezing together as the grip on your hands tightens.

“I think I should help you relax after you’ve worked so hard don’t you?”

He has no idea what you plan to do to him but, he honestly couldn’t give a fuck.

He’s too hard, too wound up and too into to you to ask any meaningful questions.

Jungkook merely nods, not trusting his vocal abilities at the moment as he waits for your next move.

A smirk comes across your face as you suckle lightly on his earlobe, knowing how much he likes it before using your lips to descend back down his neck.

You lean away from him to get a closer look at his expression. Smoothed out in pure pleasure but also tightening slightly at the discomfort brought on by his throbbing dick.

His eyes are still closed as you release your grip on his hands and he keeps them that way even as you move to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” You tease and he merely grins, shaking his head.

“Then why are your eyes closed?”

He doesn’t open them and instead allows a breathless bit of laughter to leave his lips, sound almost exasperated.

“I feel dizzy.”

His simple responses elicits another desire within you that intensifies your goal to make him feel good.

“In a good way?” You check, playfully pinching his stomach as you slowly pull up his t-shirt.

He goes back to nodding, his hands coming down to assist you with your task. His hair flops haphazardly as the material of his shirt messes with it. You take a moment to admire how incredibly beautiful he is when he settles back against the couch, your mouth going dry at the sight of him. Flushed face, pouted lips, defined muscles and hardened nipples lay before you, and you are a little unsure of where to put your lips first.

Although it doesn’t really matter, your destination is the same regardless.

Deciding on another spot that drives him crazy, you allow your fingers to brush along his ribs before leaning in to kiss over his defined chest. Jungkook’s hands are laying limp against the couch but when he feels your lips nearing his nipple, he turns them so they are able to grip the edge of the couch. Sucking his nipple into your mouth, you let you tongue rub against the peak of it. Jungkook sighs loudly from above you and you can’t help but smirk as he still doesn’t allow himself to moan.

It’s a quirk you’ve noticed and you feel like it’s likely left over from the long-discarded idea that Jungkook has regarding his masculinity. No matter how often you tell him that making noise is perfectly ok (and really hot) he still waits till he can’t help himself.

And to be honest, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy pushing him towards that point.

After you finish kissing his chest, you begin trailing your wet lips down the middle of torso, taking a moment to suck over the soft skin of his not so softly defined stomach.

“All those hours in the gym are really paying off-” You mumble against his skin, brushing your fingers over his abs, “You look so strong...”

At your compliment, his lips part, one side of his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

“I wanna look good for you.”

It’s quite a ridiculous statement really.

Jungkook would look good no matter how many visible abs he had but you know he likes the praise none the less.

So you shower him with it.

“You always look good for me.” You assure him, kissing along the band of his sweatpants now, “I’m proud of you for working so hard.”

He grins a little more, leaving his eyes mostly close but allowing them to peak open a bit to watch you sink to your knees.

“Thank you.”

He swallows back the threat of hyperventilation as he feels you spread his legs, his eyes closing completely once again.

If you weren’t able to make out the sound of his breath picking up, the movement of us chest certainly would have given it away, his pecks heaving a bit as he tries to relax.

But as you begin gently massaging up his legs, Jungkook realizes relaxing might not be possible.

At least not at the moment...

He’s stained the seam of his sweatpants with precum which would upset him if it were any other substance but with his dick being so hard, he really can’t find himself to care about anything else.

Tucking your fingers beneath his sweatpants, you begin tugging them off of his hips, relieved that he isn’t wearing any underwear.

Jungkook takes another deep and shaky breath through his nose, tilting his head back again as he tries to center his thinking.

But you’re kind of driving him insane.

Starting at his knee, you kiss all the way up his inner thigh, taking in the scent of his body- indescribable and mouthwatering, just like him. You stop just before his dick before repeating your actions along the other leg.

Jungkook’s stomach is caving in at the teasing but he does absolutely nothing to urge you further.

He likes the torture.

“Is there anything you want me to do while I'm down here?”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip at your question, knowing that you’re going to make him ask for it but feeling shy regardless.

“Yes.” He breathes

You brush your fingertips over his balls, his hips only slightly twitching at the sensation.

He’s trying to stay calm, not wanting to get so ahead of himself he blows his load before you’ve even started.

“What is it that you want me to do?” You murmur, leaning in to breathe against his length.

You’re expecting him to stall and use every other word to ask for what he wants but instead, he surprises you.

“Suck on it...” He whispers, taking a deep breath before exhaling on the word, “...please.”

Smirking to yourself, you wrap a hand around him- feeling him throb within your grip before kitten licking over the tip of him. After ridding his dick of all the precum, you decide to end his descent into madness and suck him into your mouth.

You start slow, licking up and down the length of him, your core aching at the taste. Jungkook’s nails are digging into the couch cushions as he feels your movements, his teeth starting to chew on the inside of his bottom lip.

Bringing your hand into the mix, you guide a flexible grip up and down up, using your lips to suck on the tip of him, your tongue tracing the curves of his frenulum.

Jungkook’s lips part in awe as he feels the combination of moves on his dick, his toes curling against the shag carpet. He knows that his vision will be swimming but he wants to watch you so badly, he decides to finally open his eyes.

As he predicted, his vision is spotty and the dizziness he felt earlier is nothing compared to the way he feels now.

It all becomes irrelevant though when he locks eyes with you. Your boyfriends normally innocent gaze is completely glossed over with lust, his mouth hanging open as he stares down at you, the same smirk slowly returning to his lips.

Sucking off of him, you use your hand to jerk him off as you address him, “Does it feel good?”

He bites his lip, his face and chest decorated with the flush of arousal as he nods.

“Why are you so quiet then?”

For whatever reason, your question tickles him and drunken giggle bubbles up past his lips,

“’ss too good.” He explains, shaking his head at you, “I don’t know how to say anything...”

Logically, he understands that you aren’t talking about him necessarily saying anything but more so referring to the lack of noise he’s making. However, he knows very well that he’s going to be moaning for you soon, especially when your mouth returns to his dick a second time.

When he feels you palm his balls, his eyes fall shut again, his hips twitching all over the place when you resume both sucking and jerking him off.

Jungkook knows he’s biting his lip really hard when he starts to taste a bit of blood but he doesn’t care, the pleasure he’s experiencing overpowering any semblance of pain.

“Y/N” He whispers, “I’m getting really close.”

His warning makes you swoon because he sounds so desperate and yet he’s being considerate, not wanting to intrude your mouth with the taste of him.

Despite the fact that, that’s all you want.

You merely moan against his length, signaling for him to let go whenever he wants, your speed increasing all the while.

“Fuck...” He whispers again but the word sounds like it got caught in his throat, “Fuck...fuck...fuck.”

Hearing him swear makes the wet disaster in your shorts much worse but you wanna make him cum so badly, you ignore it completely. The sound of him nearing the edge is enough to take him all the way in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him harder.

Finally, he breaks- a whimpering skipping past his lips, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth. As much as you want him to moan for you, you don’t want to stop your motions long enough to tell him.

He throws his head back against the headrest, his eyes opening wide as he stares up at the ceiling in amazement. His body jerks as the first wave of his release hits your tongue and rope after rope, you swallow everything he gives you, sucking him through his orgasm and until the sensitivity becomes too much and he starts squirming beneath you.

You suck off of him, allowing his softening length to rest against his lower stomach, which is now trembling with his heavy breath.

Jungkook pants, still staring him at the ceiling and while he’s coming down, you kiss along his hips, letting him take his time. Whilst you’re kissing up his happy trail, one of his hands reaches out to brush over your face. Its then you notice that it’s clammy and a bit shaky so, you take a moment to press a kiss over his knuckles, trying to encourage him to look at you.

“You’re shaking.” You whisper and before you know it, you can hear that same drunken giggle coming from his lips again.

Your boyfriend looks down at you, a deep sense of amazement in his eyes as he laughs still, a bit delirious.

“Yeah well-” He shakes his head, still trying to get his wits about him, “You should have a talk with your mouth about that...”

You giggle now, resting your chin on your hand as you admire how fucked-out he looks. His hair is a mess and he is covered in a light layer of sweat and if you’re being honest, you really want to jump his bones all over again. But you know he needs a minute.

“I just wanted to help you relax.” You claim innocently to which he just shakes his head, gesturing for you to get on the couch.

“Come here.”

You scramble up towards him, sitting beside his exhausted body and before you know it, he’s pulling in for a kiss, his smile creeping back when he feels your lips.

“You’re amazing.”

He sounds silly but sincere all at once, kissing softly at your lips before nudging your nose.

You smile back into the kiss, mumbling something of the same nature to him.

The two of you kiss one another for a moment until Jungkook is pulling back, allowing his dark gaze to scan over your face, eyes suddenly full of determination.

“I think it’s time you relax too now, don’t you think?”

#jungkook smut #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #jungkook fanfics #jungkook fics #jungkook fic recs #boyfriend! jungkook #long haired jungkook #jungkook sexy #jungkook hot #jungkook cute #jungkook x reader #bts #bts one shot #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfics #bts fanfiction

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devilyn · 4 years

Text

my last | tsukishima kei

— alexa, play: i wouldn’t know any better than you by gentle bones

I'll think of a place where I can meet you (meet you) To tell you all the reasons why I need you I won't mess it up again and leave you But I wouldn't know, I wouldn't know any better than you

— synopsis: you’ve become an expert at reading between the lines with tsukishima kei, until you absolutely can’t anymore.

— genre: more angst & happy endings, i love hurt/comfort lol.

— word count: 1.8k

"You're my first, you know."

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze turning up to meet Tsukishima's. His fingers ran through your hair slowly, your head resting comfortably in his lap.

"Hm?" you questioned.

"Relationship," he responded simply. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite identify, but he looked like he was seeing right past you. "Probably my last too."

You were quiet for a second before your hand reached out to gently brush over his cheek.

"If it were coming from anyone else, I'd say it's romantic," you teased. "but it's you, so what's wrong, Kei?"

His eyes seemed to refocus, dialing back into your reality.

"...I just don't think anyone else would be able to put up with me the way you do," his lips curled up into a familiar smirk, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes as he leaned down quickly.

Back then, you knew. You knew his real intentions, and the way he conveyed them in the way he kissed you after.

He loved you more than anything else in the world--that’s what he meant. He’d never love anyone else the way he loved you. You learned to translate Tsukishima’s badly-phrased confessions after years of being by his side.

But now, that skill proved useless. Now, you were sitting in an empty apartment with your boyfriend nowhere in sight.

Tsukishima’s anger was usually silent, rarely explosive. Last night, it was different. Last night, he spat words that you knew he didn’t mean. And though you had become an expert at interpreting his true intentions, it didn’t stop the pain he inflicted.

“I just want you to come to this one event, Kei,” you pleaded, following him into your shared bathroom as he tossed his jacket onto the couch. “It’s my cousin’s wedding! I know you hate events like these but--”

“If you know, then stop begging,” he cut you off coldly, staring to pull his shirt over his head. “Out. I want to shower.”

“Kei!” you cried out, standing in the bathroom doorway. You were growing increasingly frustrated.

“I’m a Division 2 professional volleyball player and a full time student,” he spat without even turning around to look at you. “Do I look like I sit at home all day like you?”

“Kei, you know that’s not even true,” you groaned, tugging at your hair in frustration.

“It’s not true?” he hissed, finally whirling around to glare at you. “What’re you doing when I’m at practice?” he angrily waved his arm around as if to motion at the space around him. “The apartment’s a mess, you always complain about not having enough time to do work, yet you spend most of your time sitting on your ass, and now you want me to take a day off to go to a stupid wedding I don’t even want to be at? Sorry the rest of us don’t laze around like you do.”

Somewhere deep down, you knew he was just tired. Tired, and irritated from a long day of classes and practice. But a voice in your head quietly asked if, maybe he was bottling this all up and finally telling the truth.

Still, he didn’t need to treat you this way.

“Baby,” you started slowly with a pet name, trying to stay calm despite the way your hands shook with contained anger. “You’re being mean, and you know it. My cousin’s getting married. If you can’t be my plus one, it’s alright.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child when we both know you’re the childish one here,” he scoffed.

“You’re the one acting like a child,” you snapped, no longer able to hold back. “I’m not saying your life is easy--you balance more than anyone else I know. All I’m saying is that this could be a break for you too and you could stop overworking yourself.”

“The only thing I need a break from is you,” he hissed under his breath.

The silence that filtered through the small bathroom lingered until you hid a sob behind a choked laugh. The sound grated on his ears, and his heart started to sink.

He sighed, taking a step towards you, “Baby--”

“Shut the fuck up,” you cursed, instinctively taking a step back--away from him.

Tsukishima felt his heart growing heavier and heavier, especially now that your eyes were beginning to water.

You hated how much you loved him. You made sure to let him know between your loud sobs as you pushed him out of your shared apartment. Because you knew eventually, you’d forgive him.

That’s why he was knocking incessantly at the front door and bombarding your phone with calls you never picked up. Silently to yourself, you wondered where he slept last night, but the thought was quickly replaced with the memory of his harsh words.

“Don’t you think you’re too mean, sometimes?” you commented offhandedly one day while he was studying for his final exams.

“I’ve always been mean, and you knew it when you started dating me,” he responded absentmindedly.

“Yeah, but what if one day you’re too mean and you bully me until I cry?” you grinned as you watched your boyfriend furrow his brows at a difficult practice problem in his textbook. Mischievously, you lifted his arm so you could slip yourself into his lap, legs wrapping around his torso as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. “What will you do then?”

“Hey--Y/N I can’t study like this--”

“The question, Tsukki,” you teased, lifting your head up so he had no choice but to focus on the stupid grin tugging at your lips

“Don’t,” he stated simply, narrowing his eyes at you in response to your playful use of his nickname.

“Then, answer my question,” your hands came up to gently cup his cheeks, turning his gaze back up to your face. His gaze softened as his eyes scanned each one of your facial features.

“I’d apologize--”

“Tsukishima Kei would apologize?” you gasped playfully, and your boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“Then I won’t apologize,” he stated firmly before he dropped his pen and wrapped his arms tight around your waist. His face leaned forward quickly, peppering kisses all over your face.

“W-Wait--Kei!” you cried out between ticklish kisses, your laughter echoing throughout the living room. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please!”

He grinned, a rare sight, before finally pulling back and allowing you to rest your forehead against his as you giggled.

“So? You’d apologize, and?”

“I’d apologize,” he repeated. “And I’d make sure you knew I never meant it, and that I would never hurt you like that again. Because I love you.”

You felt your face warming up, flustered by his sudden confession. Rarely did your boyfriend express his love through his words, and you could tell by his smug expression that he had done so intentionally to fluster you.

“H-How would I know you didn’t mean it?” you stammered, lifting your head up to avert your gaze.

“Mm, because you’re the only one for me?” his hand reached up to tilt your face back towards him, fingers gently pressing against your jaw. “Is that what you’d expect me to say?” he snickered.

Your smitten expression morphed into one of displeasure, and you swatted at his shoulder as he muffled his joyous laughs into his palm. Still, you couldn’t stay mad at him. Not when he was smiling so freely.

That vulnerability spoke on its own. You knew he meant it, when he jokingly said you were the only one for him.

“Baby,” you could hear his voice break, the sound muffled by your thin apartment door. The two of you always complained about how you could hear everything out in the hallways. This just meant that your neighbors could definitely hear the way he’d been pounding on your front door for the past hour. “Baby, you have to let me in. I need to explain, please.”

“I already know your explanation,” you finally called out, voice hoarse from an entire night of loud bawling. The knocking on the door finally stopped, and you were blessed with a brief moment of silence.

“I know, Kei,” your voice quivered, though no tears welled up in your tired, reddened eyes. “I know you didn’t mean what you said. You were tired from practice, and exams have been getting to you. I know you’re busy, it’s why you’re never home lately, and I understand.”

He was silent.

“I just...believed your words for a bit,” you laughed bitterly. “When I knew I shouldn’t have. So I pushed you away, even while knowing that mean words are your defense mechanism. I guess kicking you out was mine.”

A click, and the door handle turned. You groaned, burying your face into your hands and turning over on the couch so he wouldn’t have to see how swollen your eyes were.

“You had your key the whole time, and you decided to bother the neighbors for an entire hour instead?”

You listened to the door creak shut behind him.

“Wanted you to let me in on your own, but couldn’t wait anymore when you said something so dumb,” he responded, though he cursed quickly after. “Wait--no, you know I didn’t mean it like that--”

“Yeah,” you interrupted with a weak smile, back still facing him even as he approached you. “I know.”

The weight shifted as he placed himself next to you on the edge of the couch. Hesitantly, he reached forward and brushed your hair gently.

“...what I meant was that you shouldn’t blame yourself,” he murmured softly. “I was wrong for saying things I didn’t mean just because I was stressed.”

“They had to come from somewhere, Kei,” you sighed as you finally turned around to face him. His expression was conflicted--one you hadn’t seen on him before. “It’s not like you decided to accuse me of being lazy out of nowhere, you said way too much. It’s why I believed you for a minute.”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” his eyes softened at the sight of your broken expression. Reaching forward, his hand grazed over your tear-stained cheeks. “I know you work hard. Just because you don’t always overwhelm yourself with work at all times doesn’t mean you’re not working hard.”

Finally, you sat up and crawled into Tsukishima’s lap. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“You apologized. So what’s next?” you asked quietly as his arms circled around you to gently run his large palm across your back, soothing you.

“For the rest of my life, I’ll make sure you know I never meant what I said, and I’ll never do that again.”

“Because I’m your last?” you murmured, voice watery as tears slipped past your cheeks once again. He pulled you back slightly so he could brush his lips over your swollen eyes and wipe your tears away with his thumbs.

“Because you’re my last,” he confirmed with a weak smile. “Because I love you.”

And you believed him.

#tsukishima kei #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima kei angst #tsukishima kei scenarios #tsukishima kei imagines #tsukishima kei imagine #tsukishima kei fluff #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader

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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Once Again (Pt.2) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART TWO

Summary:

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback and for reading my work <3

< PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART >

----

He swings his beer over the counter, "one more."

He shouldn't be drinking. Imagine the damage it's doing to his organs, alcohol sweeping through his bloodstream and purging him of all coherent thought. Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa's nagging voice in his head even within the depths of intoxication.

Does he care though? He should. He should care. Because his job is basically to get people in their best shape.

And here he is, drinking away his sorrow, still shaken up by the way Hoisuke's fingers had grabbed for him that night. The bundle of nerves he'd squashed down had only intensified upon dropping his son on his mother's doorstep the same weekend and though he knew he should've said something to Mizune, he couldn't find the will to utter the words out, lest they came back to haunt him.

His phone buzzes in his pant pocket and after finishing it out with clumsy fingers, he manages to press down onto the green button.

"Yeah?"

"You're drinking!"

"No."

"Iwa-chan~" Oikawa's voice pierces through the receiver, sickly sweet and yet with a dark threatening undertone, "what are you doing?"

"Fuck off, shittykawa."

"Where are you?"

Iwaizumi doesn't answer. He doesn't need to, for Oikawa's already exclaiming the said bar's name as he takes another sip of his newly-filled beer glass.

"I thought you said you wouldn't drink anymore," Oikawa reproaches, "think of what Hoisuke would say--"

"I said fuck off."

There's a small pause where Oikawa bristles, before he says in a quieter tone, "what's wrong?"

Still, Iwaizumi says nothing but takes another huge gulp of his beer. His head feels buzzed, disoriented.

"Iwa-chan."

The said man press his lips in a taut line.

"Iwa-chaaaan."

"I'll talk to you later," Iwaizumi barely hears his friend's protests before he cuts off the call and downs the rest of his beer like a parched man, eyes narrowing towards anyone who dares reprimand him of his behaviour.

"One more," he rasps out towards the bartender, whose sending him a look that closely mimics one that clearly says he's had enough. But he scowls in response and that's enough to make the bartender's eyes slip away.

Seriously. What is wrong with him? It's already been four months goddamnit. Get over yourself. He wishes he could punch himself in the face. God, he sounds like a loser. He looks like one. And it's no wonder that his wife has left him for someone better, richer. Everything that he's not.

Not to forget that this wound will never leave their son's heart.

"One rum and coke please."

A presence lingers in his right and the brown-haired man turns with a glare at the ready, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line to scare whatever stranger that comes a little too close for his liking.

What the--

He stares at you. You stare back at him, just as dumbfounded. Looking the same, yet completely different.

"Miss Y/N?"

"Iwaizumi-san?"

He feels the sudden urge to hide his empty glass, "what--are you doing here?"

"Don't look so surprised, Iwaizumi-san," you chuckle at what you think is his flabbergasted expression, "I'm still twenty-six you know. I came here with a few of my friends."

His eyes slide towards the table in the far corner -- easy to spot since it's one of the loudest -- before he almost misses your question, "and you?"

"I come here often."

"Ah I see."

As you pay the bartender who slides your drink over, you bristle for a bit before you ask hesitantly, "mind if I sit here?"

Iwaizumi shakes his head. It's not like he can say no after all. You're his kid's teacher. And shit, how many beers has he had? He better not run his mouth. It's a dirty habit of his whenever he's shit drunk.

"So," you start off slowly, looking so out of place next to the said man with a scowl so dark it can scare off the most violent of gangsters that the corners of Iwaizumi's mouth tilt upwards in amusement, "how's it going?"

Seriously? You're seriously going to do that? His gaze searches your features for a moment, satisfied when warmth floods your cheeks.

You look away, "you don't have to look at me like that, you know. I just thought you’d want some company."

"What makes you think that?” Iwaizumi says while he flags down another beer from the waiter.

You blink at him, “I can go if you want--”

The man sighs, rubbing his temples with tiredness, “that’s not what I meant.”

A weird, empty gap of silence ensues. Long enough that Iwaizumi gets his fourth beer of the night in his hand and he takes a grateful swallow.

He really should not be drinking so much.

"Where do you work?”

You’re persistent. He’ll give you that, “personal trainer. I work at the sports academy.”

“That’s cool,” there’s a small smile edging upon your lips, “you like it?”

He nods, pauses briefly, before asking, “do you?”

Of course it’s a little too close for comfort, especially since you’re Hoisuke’s teacher and all. But you merely relax in your high stool, swinging your legs while nodding eagerly. He can’t help but notice the tightness of your dark jeans, your black high-heeled boots, “I don’t see myself working as anything else. I’m bad with people most of the time.”

Taking another swig of his beer, Iwaizumi feels the tension slowly ease up from his shoulders, “well you’re way better with kids than I am.”

“You’re pretty good with Hoisuke."

“That’s because you haven’t seen him throw tantrums.”

You laugh, "oh don't worry, I have. I know all about his little fits. All my kids have one, at some point."

You say it lightly, but there's definitely love laced in your words and for a minute, Iwaizumi thinks back to the way Hoisuke kept on praising you, the way he spoke so affectionately about you.

"Do you still play volleyball?" You ask him while sipping on your drink.

He mimics the gesture, "sometimes. The guys are all over town so it's harder to meet up now."

"Dang, your team was so good though."

"It was Oikawa that held us together. We weren't that good," he tastes the bitterness of Karasuno's victory on his tongue.

"That's not true," you protest, fiddling with your empty glass, "the only reason why I watched Aoba Johsai's games was because I liked watching you play."

Dark coffee-coloured orbs sweep up to yours at that statement, as if trying to peel layers off yout shell, as if wanting to confirm the truth of your words. You feel like cowering away but you don't, instead holding his stare in hopes that he doesn't notice how your hands tremble slightly underneath his scowl.

And then, features softening ever so slightly, he murmurs out, "thanks."

You know he means it in the best way possible.

-----

One drink turns to two. And two multiplies by four. And soon enough you're tipsy off your head and singing so blatantly off-key you wonder why Iwaizumi's still by your side. You haven't been this drunk in ages and this sense of freedom makes you bold; you tug him to the dance floor to join your friends, order shot after shot as the music gets louder and your head gets lighter, proceed to blabber your mouth off about literally anything and everything that by the end of the night, you wish the ground would swallow you whole so you won't have to deal with Iwaizumi the next day.

You're not entirely sure how you find yourself being dragged by none other than the said man himself, or how your nose is currently lodged in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. But he smells good, like citrus and a mixture of mint and-- you sniff a little more -- is that cookie dough? Your mouth waters just at the thought.

"You smell like cookie dough," the words tumble out of your mouth in a jumbled mess and you inwardly feel like stabbing yourself.

So pathetic. Pitiful really.

"That's Hoisuke," Iwaizumi replies, surprisingly patient even when he's clearly not impressed, glaring at the lamppost ahead, "it's his flavour of the month."

"That's cute!" You giggle, "just like you, Iwa!"

The man sighs while shifting his grip upon your waist, "let's just get you to bed."

You probably doze off at some point or black out because the next thing you see upon opening your eyes next is the ceiling.

Hoisting your head up and groaning when your head pounds in warning, you lie back down as nausea takes over.

Shit. This isn't your room. You know that much.

What the fuck happened last night?

You remember dancing atop tables, remember spotting Iwaizumi by the bar and talking to him because he just seemed so sad and lonely. You remember dragging him onto the dance floor, dancing together, his hands on your waist--

You danced with Iwaizumi?!

The thought is enough to trigger another pounding. You groan once more, placing your hand atop your head in hopes that it will stop it from throbbing. It doesn't. But before you have more time to wallow in your self-pity, the door creaks open and your eyes almost pop out of your head when you spot a mop of brown spiky hair enter the room.

Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck. Your brain short circuits. Fuck fuck fuck.

Surprise crosses his face, clearly having not expected you to be awake yet. He walks over to place a glass of water by the nightstand and grabs your palm to tilt two aspirins into your hand.

"How's your head?" He asks.

"Fine," you wince. It's far from fine. In response, he holds out the glass and you gladly wash down the pills, warm and feeling suddenly vulerable under his stare.

Chewing onto the inside of your cheek, you muster up all your courage to ask, "what--happened last night?"

You don't miss the way his eyebrows shoot up, "you don't remember?"

"...no."

Is that amusement dancing in his eyes? You're not sure since it's gone just as quickly as it came before he says, "you got drunk. Danced on the table, had too many shots and made out with two different men--"

"I'm pretty sure the last part didn't happen."

"You said you didn't remember," he smirks lightly.

"I can't even flirt, let alone kiss strangers."

That earns you a chuckle from his part, causing your heart to flutter slightly as he straightens up, "you probably want to wash up. Bathroom's on the right. I'm in the kitchen if you need me."

"Okay," and as he turns away, you quickly add, "thanks, Iwaizumi-san."

He nods back, exiting the room and finally allowing you to collapse back against the bed to try slowing down your galloping heart. Jesus christ, you think to yourself as you slowly take in your surroundings. From the lack of furniture and with only a few clothes flung over a wooden desk chair shoved in the right, you guess it's his room. A closed laptop and a small plant sits on his desk. On the left is the nightstand filled with sports books and some manga, a closet shoved in a corner and the floor is made in veneered wood.

There's no sign of family pictures, nothing that indicates the warmth of a cosy household. It doesn't take a genius to understand why. While Hoisuke had begged you not to tell his father, you weren't a stranger to the young boy sobbing in-between breaks because he misses his mother.

Well, it's not like you're allowed into family affairs anyway, as much as that breaks your heart.

After a much needed shower and a quick brush of your teeth -- you had to make do with using your fingers with his toothpaste, too embarrassed to actually ask him whether he had a spare toothbrush -- you walk out into the kitchen to see Iwaizumi already seated at a quaint wooden table laden with eggs and toast. Behind him sits the kitchen stove and white countertops next to a fridge fitting snuggly on the left corner. On the far right of the room is a large dark grey couch and a tv set, and just behind it is a small hallway which seems to be the entrance -- guessing by the coat rack and array of shoes.

"Sunny side up or boiled?" Iwaizumi asks as you take a seat opposite him. He has already poured you a cup of strong coffee and you inhale before sighing in bliss. Your headache already feels slightly better.

"Anything is fi--" you're interrupted by his scowl, quickly changing your answer to, "sunny-side up please."

He grunts, passes you the plate and digs into his own fried eggs, the soft boiled ones forgotten at the centre of the table.

"Uhm, forgive me for point it out, but that's a lot of food Iwaizumi-san," you mumble out, not missing the way his features harden slightly.

"Force of habit," he mutters in-between mouthfuls. He doesn't need to say more, for you're pretty certain he's referring to the family he used to have, those lazy Sunday mornings that started out with brunch.

You eat in companionable silence and though it'a definitely less awkward than last night, your mind still races trying to figure out what to say to erase the permanent furrow between his brows.

Or is that his normal demeanour? To be honest, you're not quite sure yourself.

So you settle for thanking him for last night, to which he replies, "do you usually drink that much?"

"No," you duck your head, avert your gaze, "I got carried away. I'm really sorry."

"Well I wouldn't have expected my kid's teacher to be that wild," he muses while taking a bite of his toast.

Alarm zaps through you, making your eyes go wide, "I swear I'm not usually like that, really. I just--this was an exception--"

"It's fine, miss Y/N. I know," his brown pupils lock onto yours briefly, "I'm not going to report you."

"I--" nothing can really make up for your behaviour last night. You know that much, "still, I'm sorry. That wasn't appropriate," you glance up, chest tightening at the intensity of his stare, unflinching. Unwavering.

He cocks his head at you then, a semblance of a smile along his mouth, "I was pretty entertained, if you ask me."

"Was I that bad?"

"No. But let's just say that you won't want to show your face around for the next week or so."

You groan and bury your face in your hands, "what did I do?"

"You might've broken a beer glass or two," he gives you a look, "on purpose. And tried to steal the Dj's headphones cause he wasn't putting the music you requested."

"Oh god," you want to bury yourself right then and there and to your surprise, you see him laugh softly before he nudges your coffee towards you.

"Drink," he orders, "it'll make you feel less shitty."

You're about to retort with a roll of your eyes, only to be interrupted by the doorbell ringing. From the way Iwaizumi tenses, you know it's not just the mail man.

Excusing himself to go unlock the door as you twist in your seat to follow his figure, shock courses through you the moment your eyes land on Hoisuke's.

Then, his mother.

An alarm bell rings through your mind.

"I thought you said evening," comes Iwaizumi's grunt, totally unlike the guy who'd been chuckling a few seconds ago.

"Hoisuke wanted to come back early for some reason," the woman says, her gaze flickering to yours for a brief moment. It's enough to cause you to swallow hard. She continues, "I'll pick him up on--"

"Miss Y/N?!" Hoisuke shouts out suddenly and before you know it, you're being tackled into the child's arms as if you haven't seen each other forever, "what are you doing here?! Daddy!" he whips his head around in accusation, "you lied about not really really liking Miss Y/N!"

"Wha--No!" Iwaizumi yells as you frown in confusion, "huh?"

"Daddy said that really really liking someone means you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend with them, like he was with Mama before she moved houses," Hoisuke blabbers on, totally oblivious to how the three of you keep on staring at him in growing alarm, "and then I asked him if he really really liked miss Y/N because I really really like miss Y/N but he said no, but that's a lie!"

"Hajime, what is he talking about?" His ex-wife is quick to narrow her eyes, "what have you been telling him?"

"Nothing, it's not what you think--"

"I think," she pointedly glances at you, "I should leave now. We'll talk about this later."

And with that, she swivels around and storms out, leaving the three of you to stare after her in a mixture of shock and confusion.

Hoisuke, oblivious to the sudden tension, blurts out, "daddy, why is Mama angry with you?"

----

The few weeks following the tiny incident that had resulted in an awkward misunderstanding between you, Hoisuke’s parents and the said child himself had caused you to retreat back into the shell of professionalism that included avoiding Iwaizumi whenever it was deemed possible. It hadn’t been hard since he was usually present and waiting outside class to pick up Hoisuke right on time, making it much easier to avoid conversation with him altogether.

You’d texted iwaizumi right after reaching your humble abode the day he’d practically saved your drunk ass and though you spent a few spare moments to chat in-between the bustling activities of life, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s still Hoisuke’s father, one of your dearest students. That, and the fact that you don’t really find it fair to put Hoisuke in-between the two of you, if there’s anything worth digging for anyway.

Who are you kidding? It’s not like Iwaizumi would ever be interested in you in that sense. Having spotted his ex-wife once or twice proved that his style was of more refined women, the type that would drink wine instead of chug down beer and who’d enjoy gifts such as perfume and romantic dates instead of going on grocery trips and meal-prepping for the entire week.

“Miss Y/N!” Hoisuke’s voice pierces through your thought bubble and your eyes quickly find his grin as he jumps towards your desk, "are you coming to our house this weekend too?!"

"Wh--What? Uhm-- no I don't think so--" eyes quickly flitting over the classroom, you're relieved to find that the rest of his classmates are long gone, "I don't think that's appropriate."

"But why? I even told Mama that I wouldn't be coming this weekend because you were," he pouted and it took all of your determination not to melt, until his words registered in your brain and your eyes widened, "o--oh, but that's--"

"Hoisuke?" You both turn to see his father's head poking through the door. Your body reacts instantly, warmth flooding through your limbs and flushing through your cheeks.

"Daddy!"

"H-Hello, Iwaizumi-san," you bow your head slightly. He returns the gesture, facial expression not giving anything away. His son bounds up to him with just as much vigor, "daddy, can we invite miss Y/N this weekend too?"

You might have laughed at Iwaizumi's shocked face if not for the fact that you are the person in question.

He splutters, "Miss Y/N has things to do--"

"But she came last weekend!"

"Yes well, it's bad manners to impose on someone when they're not free," Iwaizumi replies sternly, "come on now, we're gonna be late for Karate."

With a loud sigh and a scowl that resembles so much like his father, Hoisuke mutters out his goodbyes while Iwaizumi catches your eye, bowing slightly and muttering a silent "sorry" before he guides his son out of the room. You're glad he's out of earshot that he can't hear the stuttering of your heart against your chest.

You place a hand on your chest, sigh tiredly before looking down at your students' papers, "get a grip, Y/N," you mutter to yourself.

But it's not that easy to control yourself when Iwaizumi is making it so easy to like him.

----

Iwaizumi: sorry about yesterday.

Y/N: it's okay. Hoisuke’s young, it's normal for him to want for a motherly figure around.

Iwaizumi's fingers drum over his knee as he watches with slight interest the newest male volleyball team practice their serves. He shouts after a few, calling them out for theit lazy postures, but other than that he can't seem to stop his thoughts from winding their way back to you.

"Who is she?" Mizune had asked him on the phone on the day following their encounter. Her tone was friendly, yet held that tone of warning that he was so accustomed to.

"How does that concern you?"

"I want to know who you're bringing around to hang out with Hoisuke."

"She's an acquaintance of mine," he paused, "and Hoisuke's teacher."

"That's inapropriate if you ask me."

Scoffing, he replied, "like what you did's so appropriate?"

A small pause ensued. When she spoke next, there was no mistaking the edge to her voice.

"You can't keep using that against me, Hajime."

"Don't tell me who I can or can't hang out with."

He'd hung up without bothering to wait for her response, seething and red hot with rage blubbering through his stomach.

Of course now that he thinks it over, Mizune has a point. Mixing the professional and the personal have never ended in happy endings. Not that this has ever stopped him before. He doesn't believe in what everyone else thinks is right. That's also one of the main reasons why Mizune couldn't handle it anymore. Or so she said before she went to suck someone else's dick.

His phone vibrates and fishing it out, a scowl instantly shadows his face upon seeing Oikawa's name flash across the screen.

Oikawa: Iwa-chan ~ have you asked her out yet?

Iwaizumi has to force himself to stay in control and not pound his phone to pieces when he types out his reply.

Iwaizumi: No.

Oikawa: BUT WHYYYY~ YOU SAID YOU FOUND HER CUTE.

Oikawa: and Hoisuke likes her. He already knows her.

Iwaizumi: I didn’t say that. And she's not interested.

Oikawa: Just because you suck at picking up cues doesn't mean she isn't throwing them at you 😏😏😏

Iwaizumi: shut up, shittykawa.

Oikawa: Just do it or I'll do it for you.

Iwaizumi: I don't even like her that way.

Oikawa: why'd you rant about not wanting to hurt her feelings yesterday night then?

Iwaizumi's hand rubs at his face with a groan. Oikawa's a little shit most of the time, but he's a perceptive little shit.

Oikawa: I mean it. Ask her out or I'll do it for you.

Oikawa: gotta go now. Match is starting. See ya!~ muah ❤

"Dumbass," Iwaizumi growls under his breath before shoving the phone back into his pocket. Easier said than done to ask someone out so casually, especially when she's Hoisuke's teacher.

If she accepts, great. If she doesn't, he'll have to suffer through humiliation for the rest of the year or avoid picking up Hoisuke altogether.

Oh fuck it.

He lets his body send the message before his brain can catch up to the way he has thrown himself under the bus, shoves his phone back into his pocket and tries to put the thought out of his mind even though the device suddenly feels hot and heavy in his pant pocket.

Iwaizumi: we're having takeout and movie night on Friday. You're free to join.

----

517 notes · View notes

dekuskacchan · 3 years

Text

i will follow you into the dark

Rating: T

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Fluff

Summary: Izuku has finally returned to UA, and Katsuki will never let him go again.

Or: Izuku and Katsuki finally discuss their feelings.

A/N: Hi again, friends! Since chapter 322 is out now and dominating all of our lives, I felt inspired to write. This is intended to be a sequel to my fic "Tell Me I'm Dreaming," and takes place immediately after the events of chapter 322. So, spoilers are ahead for that chapter! I hope you like it <3

I'd also like to note: Izuku ate and took a bath when he got back, I just couldn't figure out how to work that in. Fear not, he is a clean and fed boy :')

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33153718

Katsuki watches the gentle rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he sleeps, undoubtedly for the first time in days. He’d fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow on the small bed in Recovery Girl’s office, and hasn’t budged since.

In the 12 hours Izuku has been back at UA, Katsuki has left his side once, only with substantial convincing from Glasses and Shitty Hair.

“Dude, he’ll probably be out cold for a few more hours. At least go scarf down some food and take a nap,” Shitty Hair said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki retorted, “I ate this morning. And I have slept.”

Kirishima let out an exasperated sigh that irritated Katsuki to no end.

“Did you come here just to piss me off?” he snapped.

“We are concerned for your well being, just as we are Midoriya’s,” Iida said, “you haven’t fully recovered from your own injuries yet. You need to rest.”

“I said I was fucking fine.”

Iida looked at him with knowing eyes and a gentle smile. It annoyed Katsuki even more.

“He won’t disappear if you stop watching him, Bakugou."

“Yeah. We’ll stay with him,” Kirishima added with a thumbs up.

Katsuki gritted his teeth. As much as he hated to admit it, they were right. His empty stomach only served to fuel his anger more.

“I hear they’re serving spicy curry for lunch in the cafeteria,” Iida coaxed.

Katsuki had relented at that point, not because it was his favorite, of course, the growling in his stomach was just giving him away.

Katsuki returned less than an hour later. Kirishima and Iida admittedly had reassured him, to some degree, but it wasn’t enough to quell his anxiety. Iida scolded him for refusing to rest, but did nothing to stop him, as if he knew his efforts were futile. The pair stayed with Katsuki at Izuku’s bedside a while longer, but left him to his devices nonetheless.

Half and Half stopped by some time later, tapping on Katsuki’s shoulder and waking him from a restless sleep in a shitty plastic chair at Izuku’s bedside.

“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable to sleep in your bed, Bakugou?” he asked, sitting in a chair adjacent to him.

“I was sleeping just fine before you fucking showed up, you Half and Half bastard,” Katsuki snarled.

“I’ve been here for an hour and a half, actually,” Todoroki stated. Always so fucking deadpan.

“Why the fuck did you wake me up now then?”

“You looked uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine, asshole,” Katsuki grumbled. Todoroki looked unconvinced.

“I figured you would say that. Here, I brought you this,” Todoroki produced a blanket from behind his chair and handed it to Katsuki.

“I don’t need your fucking charity," Katsuki grumbled, but accepted it anyway, silently grateful for refuge from the chill in the room.

“It’s no trouble,” Todoroki patted his shoulder.

“Tch.” Katsuki shrugged him off.

They sat in silence for a while. Izuku still hadn’t budged. Katsuki was worried, but some part of him was thankful that Izuku was finally fucking resting.

“Everyone is proud of you, you know,” Todoroki said quietly.

“Haah?!”

“It took courage, what you did. We know it’s not easy for you to express your emotions,” he paused, considering his next words, “it... doesn’t come naturally to me, either.”

“No shit!” Katsuki barked. Todoroki raised a finger to his lips to shush him and nodded at Izuku, who had grunted in his sleep.

“I’m just saying, your efforts aren’t unseen. We know you’ve been working hard, and that this has been weighing on you for a long time. If it weren’t for you, Midoriya might not have listened to us.”

“You don’t know shit,” Katsuki grumbled, averting his eyes. Katsuki was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t good at this shit, and Todoroki knew it, so why wouldn’t he shut up?

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. We can change the topic,” Todoroki said, as if he could read Katsuki’s mind.

“Or we could stop fucking talking altogether,”

Todoroki smiled and nodded, returning his gaze to Izuku. Katsuki’s eyes followed and he frowned.

“He’s such a fucking idiot,” Katsuki muttered, leaning forward in his chair and resting his chin on his hand. Todoroki chuckled.

“He is certainly reckless,” Todoroki nodded, “I’m disappointed to learn he felt he had to keep such a big secret. But, he is my friend, and I will continue to be as supportive as I can. He would do the same for us.”

“No, he’d do more, and end up getting himself fucking killed."

“That’s…" Todoroki frowned, "probably true."

They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Todoroki fucking piped up again, much to Katsuki’s dismay.

“I know Midoriya appreciated what you said,” his voice was soft.

“Words don’t matter. Actions do,” Katsuki’s response was immediate.

“Well your actions have spoken clearly. “You're a better person than you think you are, Bakugou.”

Katsuki whipped his head to glare at Todoroki with an insult on his tongue, but he found himself speechless instead, staring with an incredulous look on his face. He mentally kicked himself for it.

“I just hope you know that, too,” Todoroki offered a half-smile.

Katsuki was frustratingly taken aback. He averted his eyes and looked at the ground with a scowl. That damn fucking Half and Half.

Todoroki thankfully shut his mouth after that. Katsuki wasn’t sure how long they sat together in silence. It wasn’t until the sun had set and the room began to fill with darkness that he heard Todoroki rise from his seat.

“I’m going to go lie down. You should, too,” Todoroki said plainly.

Katsuki sighed. He was right, but there was a sickeningly uneasy feeling in his gut whenever he thought about leaving that he just couldn’t shake.

“I…I can’t,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

Todoroki patted his shoulder again, and Katsuki didn’t push him away this time.

“Thanks,” Katsuki shrugged, “for the blanket or whatever.”

Todoroki nodded. He left the door cracked behind him on his way out.

Katsuki pulls the blanket around himself and reclines in his chair, putting his feet up on Todoroki’s abandoned one. It’s really fucking uncomfortable, but Katsuki knows it would be impossible to sleep if he were anywhere else.

After too many attempts to reposition himself comfortably, Katsuki groans and sits up straight, turning his head to watch Izuku again. He’s still sleeping soundly.

Katsuki leans forward and, without thinking, brushes his hand through Izuku’s hair, pushing back a few stray curls. The moonlight flickering through the blinds illuminates his face, and Katsuki thinks that, somehow, this is the most peaceful he’s seen Izuku in ages.

Katsuki can’t remember the last time Izuku wasn’t at least slightly on edge. He is always looking over his shoulder, as if he’s expecting the enemy to be watching. He spends every minute of his free time training or muttering to himself about battle strategies. The nerd doesn’t even know the meaning of the word “relax.”

Katsuki slides his hand down to cup Izuku’s cheek. His skin is soft and warm, just like last time, and he can’t help but feel an awful sense of dèjá vu. He stays that way for a few moments, just reveling in the fact that Izuku is really here. This isn't a dream, he’s finally here, and Katsuki will never fucking let him go again.

When Katsuki reluctantly moves to pull away, Izuku reaches up to grab his hand, nuzzling into it.

Katsuki is startled, as Izuku is seemingly still asleep. He brushes Izuku’s cheekbone with the backs of his fingers, and swears he sees the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You’re a dumbass,” Katsuki mumbles, propping his elbow on the bed to rest his head in his free hand.

“I can hear you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki jolts up in surprise to see Izuku staring at him with one eye cracked open and a smirk on his lips.

“Shit, did I wake you?” Katsuki tries again to pull his arm away, but Izuku holds on tight, as if Katsuki is his lifeline and he’s barely hanging on.

“D-don’t go,” Izuku stutters, burying his face in Katsuki’s hand. Katsuki caresses his cheek again and frowns when he finds wetness there.

“Are you crying?” Katsuki asks, though he’s not sure why, because he already knows the answer.

“N-no,” Izuku sniffles. Katsuki rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Hey, look at me,” Katsuki whispers, lifting his free hand to Izuku’s other cheek and turning his head to face him.

Izuku whimpers, holding Katsuki’s arms in a vice grip as he looks up. His eyes are sunken and glassy, overflowing with tears that Katsuki wipes away with his thumbs.

Fuck, he looks like a fucking zombie. His face is paler than usual and littered with scratches, and heavy, dark circles line his eyes. Katsuki suppresses a sudden urge to wrap him in his arms and hold him tight.

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki murmurs, stroking his cheeks in what he hopes is a soothing manner.

Izuku’s face contorts and a new wave of tears begin to fall.

“I-I’m so s-sorry Kacchan,” he snivels.

Katsuki holds his face tighter.

“I told you, we get it. Don’t beat yourself up, you’ve already done plenty of that.”

Izuku chokes a laugh through a broken sob and Katsuki counts it as a small victory.

“I a-am pretty messed up, h-huh?” Izuku hiccups, “but so are you.”

“Tch. I’m fine,” Katsuki lies, feeling a familiar twinge of pain in his side.

“I kn-know you better than that, Kacchan,” Izuku meets Katsuki’s gaze, “d-don’t think I didn’t see you bleeding back there.”

“I was bleeding. I’m not anymore, see?” Katsuki points to his newly applied bandages, “The old lady patched me up.”

Recovery Girl had given Katsuki a thorough scolding for tearing his wounds. Something about being too reckless, to stop throwing himself in front of danger because isn't it hypocritical of you to tell Midoriya to look after himself, but you won't do the same? That had pissed Katsuki off to no end, but he’d accepted her help anyway.

“Y-you could’ve hurt yourself-”

“But I didn’t! Quit worrying about everyone else,” Katsuki looks Izuku dead in the eyes, “think about your goddamn self for once.”

Izuku shakes his head frantically.

“I can’t. I said so many terrible things I- I h-have to apologize-,” Izuku tries to get up, but Katsuki is lightning fast as he moves to sit on the bed in front of him, gripping his shoulders to hold him in place.

“You can do that later. You need to fucking relax. Did you forget you were beaten to a pulp?” Katsuki reminds him.

“Kacchan, I’m f-”

“Don’t fucking say you’re fine! You’re not, and you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter, Kacchan!” Izuku shouts,“I can’t- I can’t just sit here while everyone else is-”

“Everyone is safe,” Katsuki lightly shakes him, “and we’re safer if we're together.”

Izuku presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Izuku repeats himself. His voice is shaking. “I ne-”

“Shut the fuck up. You matter,” Katsuki says firmly, pulling Izuku’s hands away and holding onto them.

Izuku weakly lifts his head to meet Katsuki’s eyes. He looks taken aback, and even more exhausted than before, but Izuku is just as stubborn as Katsuki is, and Katsuki can tell he still has an argument left in him.

“Izuku,” Katsuki watches Izuku's eyes widen as he utters his name for a second time. It feels foreign on his tongue, but he knows the weight it carries, and he'll say it over and over if it makes Izuku happy.

Katsuki pushes back the hair that’s fallen in front of Izuku's face and knocks their foreheads together.

“Izuku,” he repeats, “ You fucking matter,” there’s a sharpness to Katsuki’s tone he hadn’t intended, but he can tell Izuku gets the message. He swears he sees the color return to Izuku’s bloodshot eyes before they squeeze shut, overflowing with new tears.

Izuku buries his head in Katsuki’s chest and wails. Katsuki immediately wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a tight embrace, ignoring the aching pain in his injured shoulder and side.

“I-I’m s-so sorry,” Izuku’s entire body shakes as he clings to Katsuki. Katsuki holds him tighter, rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay,” Katsuki murmurs, trying his best to soothe him, but Izuku only cries harder. Katsuki’s own eyes begin to burn.

“It’s s’not o-okay, Kac-chan,” Izuku stutters.

“Nobody is mad at you."

“Th-they should b-be,” Izuku insists miserably

“Well they’re not.”

“I think All M-might is.”

“Haah?! The fuck kind of reason does All Might have to be mad at you?” Katsuki is baffled. “I should fucking clock him in the face again.”

“Y-you punched All Might?!” Izuku lifts his chin to stare incredulously at Katsuki.

“Damn right I did. But that’s beside the point. Why the fuck’s he mad?”

Izuku hides his face again, his voice muffled by Katsuki’s now damp shirt and his own sobs, “I w-was so mean t-to him. I told him I d-didn’t need him anymore and r-ran away, I-”

“Breathe, Dek- Izuku,” Katsuki whispers, brushing Izuku’s cheek with his fingers as Izuku begins to hyperventilate. “Breathe. He’s not mad, he’s probably just worried.” He better not be fucking mad.

“I-I have to t-talk to him too,”

“It can wait. Right now you need to fucking rest.”

They stay that way for a while, wrapped in the safety of each other’s arms as Izuku’s cries slowly start to dissipate. At some point, Katsuki isn’t sure when, traitorous tears start to roll down his own face. Izuku notices before he does, feeling the sudden moisture on his shoulder, and he tells him so.

“I’m not fucking crying,” Katsuki grumbles, though his voice is hoarse.

“It’s o-okay Kacchan,”

“Shit,” Now they’re both blubbering idiots.

Izuku squeezes Katsuki tighter as they cry together. Katsuki tries not to wince as he returns the gesture, his shoulder screaming in protest, but Izuku notices. Of course he fucking notices.

“K-Kacchan-,” Izuku’s voice is laced with unnecessary concern as he immediately loosens his grip and starts to pull back.

“Don’t,” Katsuki growls, rubbing his eyes, “Don’t fucking worry about me.”

Izuku sniffles and shakes his head, “I c-can’t help it.”

Katsuki heaves a sigh. “I know.”

Izuku places his shaky, scarred hands on either side of Katsuki’s face in a gentle caress that makes Katsuki’s heart fucking squeeze. When he finally lifts his eyes, he finds Izuku looking at him with a wobbly smile. His cheeks are tear-stained and there's a trace of something haunted behind his eyes, but it's undeniable that a weight has lifted from his shoulders.

Katskui quirks his lips in a half smile. Fuck, he’d missed Izuku.

Izuku yawns and lies back in the bed. “I’m tired again.”

“Well, get some sleep then, nerd,” Katsuki moves to slide back in his chair, but Izuku stops him, grabbing his hand.

“Wait! I- could-” Izuku bites his lip, “could you...stay with me?”

Katsuki squeezes his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, nerd. Someone has to keep your ass in line," he smirks.

Izuku laughs, the first real laugh Katsuki has heard in ages, and Katsuki thinks it might be his favorite sound.

“No, I mean here, next to me,” Izuku scoots over in the bed and pats the space next to him.

“I don’t think-”

“Just until I fall asleep,” Izuku pleads, “...please?”

Katsuki finally relents and slides in next to him. Izuku looks relieved, draping the blanket around them both and curling up to Katsuki’s uninjured side. Katsuki wraps his arm around Izuku’s waist, careful not to dislodge the bandages there. He briefly wonders why this feels so natural.

Izuku’s voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks next. “I- I’m scared, Kacchan.”

“I know. But everything’s gonna be fine."

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

“No one’s gonna get hurt. We’re gonna figure this out, and we’re gonna figure it out together.”

“I really shouldn’t be here,” Izuku sighs.

“Shut the fuck up. You really wanna be out there? Where people are lookin’ to wring your neck at every turn?”

“Of course not! But that’s exactly why I should be. No one here is safe while I’m around.”

Izuku startles when Katsuki suddenly grabs his chin and lifts it up with his free hand to make Izuku look him in the eyes “Bullshit. I already told you, you can’t win this alone. So stop trying."

Izuku swallows hard, on the verge of tears again. Katsuki tucks Izuku's head under his chin.

"Saving people is how we win, remember? That means you gotta let us save you sometimes, too." Katsuki holds Izuku tight as he cries, gently combing his fingers through thick green curls.

“You should be here," Katsuki continues, "you belong here, Izuku." With me, he adds, but only in his thoughts.

Izuku stills and lifts his head from Katsuki’s chest to stare at him with wide, curious eyes. He's no longer crying. “Kacchan?”

“What?” Katsuki is confused as he watches Izuku’s cheeks flush a deep red.

“I belong with...you?”

Fuck, did he say that out loud?

Katsuki suddenly becomes very aware of their proximity and feels his own face heat.

Their faces are already inches apart, and Izuku is coming closer, cupping Katsuki's cheeks with freezing cold hands. He's close enough that Katsuki can feel Izuku’s heartbeat, his breath on his nose, and fuck, when did their legs tangle together?

Izuku’s thumb lightly strokes his cheekbone and Katsuki finds himself inadvertently leaning into his touch. His breath catches in his throat when he finally meets his gaze. Izuku’s eyes are soft and warm and he’s smiling, a real smile that is secretly Katsuki’s favorite, one that he hasn't seen in far too long. He decides he would sooner die than see it extinguished ever again.

He's embarrassed by his accidental confession, but something about the way Izuku is looking at him, with that soft gaze full of light and wonderment Katsuki knows is reserved only for him, makes the anxiety melt away. The eyes that used to infuriate him now leave him feeling warm and safe, like he has a place in this world, and he realizes there's nowhere he'd rather fucking be than right by Izuku's side.

"Did you mean that?" Izuku whispers, breaking him from his reverie.

“Yeah. Stay with me,” Katsuki grazes his fingers across Izuku's cheek. "...please."

Izuku's smile is breathtaking. It lights a fire in Katsuki's chest.

"I will," Izuku breathes, leaning in to close the distance between them.

Their lips meet halfway in a desperate kiss and a jolt of electricity courses through Katsuki's body. Izuku's hands tangle into Katsuki's hair and Katsuki cradles his face as they explore each other for the first time. It's messy and uncoordinated, but Izuku's lips are soft and inviting and nothing has ever felt so fucking right.

Katsuki's hold on Izuku's waist tightens, pulling him closer, but it's still not close enough. They've been through a decade of miscommunication and separation, unchecked feelings, and the debilitating fear of losing each other. Now that Izuku is here, safe in his arms, Katsuki wants nothing more than to stay in the warmth of this moment forever, to melt into each other and never let go again.

"K-Kacchan," Izuku pants as he slowly pulls away. Oh, right, breathing.

He presses his forehead to Katsuki's as they gasp for air, and they cling to each other as if the other could disappear at any moment.

Katsuki's head is spinning as he looks at Izuku. His cheeks have flushed deeper, lips kissed red and swollen, eyes blown wide as he stares in amazement.

"I missed you," Izuku whispers between heavy breaths.

"Me too,"

Katsuki tucks Izuku's head into the crook of his neck and holds him tight.

“I am….glad to be back,” Izuku murmurs, “it was terrifying out there. I was so exhausted."

No shit, Katsuki thinks.

"Do you want to...talk about it?"

"I-" Izuku pauses, considering. His voice is small when he says, "Maybe later. I don't...I don't want to think about it right now."

Katsuki laces the fingers of one hand with Izuku's and squeezes.

"Okay. But, uh, I'm here if you do. Want to talk or whatever." Katsuki tries his best to sound encouraging. Izuku tilts his head up and nods with a smile.

“Okay.”

There's still so much Katsuki wants to say, but he can't put it into words. He's always been better with actions. He thinks back on all that he said before Izuku passed out in his arms, and wonders if it was enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki notices Izuku peering up at him.

“What are you staring at, nerd?” Katsuki smirks as Izuku averts his eyes, color blooming on his face again.

“I- I’m not, I just- thank you, Kacchan.”

"For what?"

“For everything.”

Katsuki shrugs. “I didn’t do shit."

"Yes you did," Izuku brushes a lock of hair behind Katsuki's ear, "you're here right now. You listened, you encouraged me, you made me feel safe enough to come back here. I wouldn’t have had the strength without you.”

Katsuki is at a loss for words.

"Todoroki was right, you know," Izuku says softly, "you're better than you think you are."

Katsuki feels his face flush and looks away. But then it dawns on him.

"You were listening to us?"

"Uh- just a little...only bits and pieces."

"You were awake? Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to interrupt you," Izuku shrugs. "You and Todoroki never talk, it seemed important. Plus, I was so out of it I thought I was dreaming at first."

"So you were just eavesdropping like a creep?" He teases, snickering when Izuku buries his face in embarrassment.

"I'd rather talk to you than that Half and Half bastard, dumbass," Katsuki ruffles Izuku's hair.

"Sorry, Kacchan."

"Quit apologizing."

Normally he probably would be pissed, but there isn’t even a trace of anger in him right now.

"I'm not the only one who's reckless, by the way," Izuku playfully nudges Katsuki.

"I'm not fucking reckless."

Izuku frowns. "Kacchan, you were stabbed. And you tore open your wounds trying to get to me when you should've been taking it easy. You took off into battle without a second thought."

"Sounds familiar," Katsuki glares at him.

"I know. I admit I don't always think things through….and sometimes I think too much. I never put myself first. You made me realize that. I'm...going to try to work on it. But you can't deny that you do it sometimes too."

Katsuki is silent again.

"And when was the last time you ate? Or slept somewhere other than a tiny chair? You tell me I need to take better care of myself, but you don't do the same."

"I'm fine." Katsuki insists, but Izuku knows him better than he knows himself and sees right through the lie.

Katsuki sighs. Deep down, he knows Izuku and the old lady are right. Sometimes... he can be a dumbass and a hypocrite.

"My body…I told you, it moved on it's own. I just saw you in the air and fucking panicked. You were about to die," Katsuki’s voice shakes, “You were about to die, and it was like… like my entire fucking life flashed before my eyes. There was so much I needed to say to you, I couldn't handle the thought of losing you, Izuku. Especially before- before I had the chance to-, " Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and grunts in an effort to hold back tears that were threatening to fall.

Katsuki feels Izuku's gentle touch on his cheek again and meets his gaze.

"I know. It's okay. Let's just agree that we're both idiots and try to be better, together. If not for ourselves, then for each other. I can't stand the thought of losing you either, Kacchan," Izuku's eyes are impossibly soft

"I really do appreciate everything you said, Kacchan. It means so much to me. I know it's not easy for you to do that."

"I meant every fucking word," Katsuki says firmly.

"I know. And I forgave you a long time ago, Kacchan. Yeah, things were rocky for a while, but I see you. I see how you've changed, and how much effort you've been putting in. I feel safest and strongest when I'm with you. You're the most amazing person I've ever known, and you always will be."

Izuku's eyes well up with tears again as he smiles, and Katsuki feels like his heart could burst out of his chest. He presses a gentle kiss to Izuku's palm and cups his face, tracing his lips with his thumb.

"You make me stronger," Katsuki stares deep into his eyes.

Katsuki feels his brain short circuit as Izuku presses a gentle, sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. Katsuki holds him there as he pulls away, chasing his lips with his own.

This kiss is softer and less hurried, but just as passionate. They're completely enveloped in each other as they revel in the fact that this is real. There’s nowhere in the world either of them would rather be. Katsuki didn’t realize just how badly he needs Izuku until he was gone, and thinks that, maybe, Izuku feels the same way.

It feels like it’s been an eternity when they slowly break apart, and Katsuki can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

Izuku lays his head on Katsuki's chest and cuddles up to his side. Katsuki idly strokes his back, just relishing the moment.

Fuck, he’d missed Izuku.

"I don't mind if- uh, if you keep calling me Deku, by the way," Izuku mutters..

"You don't like it when I say your name?"

"No! No, that's not it- I mean it is a little weird, but uh- I like it? Hearing it in your voice, I mean," Izuku rambles on, and Katsuki finds that he's even missed that too.

"I just, um, I mean- Deku is fine too. It has a different meaning for us both now, you know? It stopped being an insult a long time ago. And, uh, it feels, um...special, I guess? I don't know. My point is, either is fine. I don't want you to feel like...like you're disrespecting me, or something," Izuku's face is bright red as he notices Katsuki smirking at him.

"You're such a nerd," Katsuki laughs when Izuku scowls, and presses a kiss to his forehead, “I’ll call you whatever the fuck you want me to call you.”

“Either is good. I promise.”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see then, huh?”

"Yeah," Izuku smiles, then his brows furrow and he pauses. "Katsuki."

They both frown and Katsuki shakes his head.

"Nope. Too weird. I'd rather be Kacchan forever,” Katsuki grimaces.

“I think so too,” Izuku laughs.

"You should sleep, nerd." Katsuki murmurs.

"Mm, yeah,” Izuku yawns, “You should too, Kacchan."

"Yeah, yeah."

"But you'll still be here when I wake up, right?" Izuku looks up at him with pleading eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Izuku breathes a sigh of relief and snuggles closer.

"Tomorrow...tomorrow is gonna be hard."

"Nah. I'll beat the shit out of anyone who tries anything funny. Like I said, we'll get through this.”

"Together?"

"Together."

-------

bonus:

Sunlight is filtering through the blinds of the room's tiny window when Katsuki awakens. He feels more rested than he has in ages. Izuku is still curled up at his side with his head on his chest, snoring softly, and Katsuki can’t help but smile.

“Nice, bro!” someone whispers from the doorway. Katsuki’s head whips up to see Shitty Hair and Sparky, grinning at him with their thumbs up.

Katsuki is filled with white hot rage as his face flushes. If it wasn't for the fact that Izuku has him pinned, he would beat the shit out of those assholes.

“See ya, loverboy!” Kaminari whistles as they bolt out of the room.

Oh, they are dead meat when Katsuki’s hands are free.

A/N: I wrote this while listening to "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie and "Make You Mine (acoustic)" by PUBLIC-highly recommend them if you're looking to yearn lmao

The large block of italicized text is meant to be a flashback- I hope that was clear :')

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!! Feedback/reblogs are appreciated as always <3

Also- shout out to @sheiireen for her very helpful advice on this. She's amazingly talented, you should check her out!!

#i even capitalized all of my sentences wow #ahhhh im so nervous to post this hfewufnj #i hope yall liked it!!#anyways bkdk canon lmao #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #my fic #birdie writes #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #kirishima eijirou #iida tenya #reblogs are appreciated 💕

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golddaggers · 3 years

Text

midnight rendezvous

pairing: louis tomlinson x f!reader

warnings: filthy smut with hints of fluffness. period sex. petnames. him calling you baby doll. defo nsfw +18, so my dudes, read carefully.

a/n: it's your renegade writer back with her fantasies. i've written this a while back and though it'd be such a shame to share. if you do like it, make sure to reblog and like. thanks and enjoy *wink* leth x

word count: 3k+

It’s just a bit past midnight when I park home, no one wandering the streets, or children playing about, there’s just the chilled breeze fumbling with the leaves. I don’t notice a second car on the driveway until I’m up close, I blame the dim yellow streetlights and my exhaustion. It had been a particularly busy shift at the hospital, I wanted nothing more than to sleep for about two days straight.

The cold crisp air makes me tremble for a split second, but I am soon welcomed by the warmth of the inside. I kicked off my sneakers, trying to be as silent as possible, I didn’t want to wake him up. A second car meant Louis had come home and he must be tired, it had been weeks since he had a break, we hadn’t seen each other for even longer. The weekends he happened to be around, I couldn’t work my schedule to spend them at home with him. It sucked, and I missed him more than I could put it into words.

A frustrated sigh slips while I walk to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water. After so many years, I should be used to it: the busy schedule, the months spent apart. I’m not, though. And being honest, I don’t think it’s possible to not be in pain when waking up to an empty bed beside me, to not hear the soft humming when he’s doing the dishes, to not miss the press of his lips on mine. I just wanted us to buy a bunch of lands somewhere, live a quiet, happy life, have children, and grow old. Just the two of us.

This was something I would never tell him. Robbing him of his passions wasn’t on my mind. I knew he’d oblige if I did say so. If I asked him, but I couldn't.

I leave a half-drunk glass behind, and go upstairs, taking off my plain white shirt then unbuttoning my jeans. Before I got to the bedroom, however, I froze, strangled sounds coming from there startling me for a second. It's followed by a smile creeping in, I’m very much aware, and familiar, with them.

The door isn’t closed, so I peek in. I see him naked, sheets pooled by his feet, and one hand wrapped around himself, moving up and down with ease, his thumb applying just enough pressure. I feel my mouth watering at the sight, a cramp twisting my belly. Desire gathers quickly, I was so touch-starved that I might as well come undone just by watching him get himself off.

His eyes are closed, thin lips parted. I slide off my pants, throwing both them, and my shirt away, walking inside in just my black lingerie. Even that was starting to be uncomfortable.

“Lou?” I call him, standing with crossed arms. He’s quick to drop everything, shooting me a wide, surprised glare. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spoil your good time.”

I’m half-joking at this point.

“I thought you’d only be home in t’ mornin’,” Deep blue eyes, sparked with lust, stare up at me. I'm very aware of how much I want to be near him again. “C’mere.”

He pats the space on his right side, it’s mesmerizing how quickly he can go from a sex god to a warm loving man. I go, but I don’t stay beside him, instead, I take my seat on his lap, which makes him laugh, rough hands on my waist, squeezing the flesh. I shift, uncomfortable, feeling him beneath me. So hard, so ready. It’s been so long I might just assume I'm a virgin all over again, shamefully responsive to anything he might do to me.

Louis leans in, planting a kiss just between the curve of my breasts. The prickle of his bead makes my pulse rise. It’s the intimacy that gets me hooked. He feels like coming home. A warmth that springs from the tip of my toes to my head, flushes my cheeks, and makes my forehead sweaty.

A “missed ya” whispered on my skin makes me shake, he then kisses the soft spot where the shoulder meets the neck, I let out a groan, moving, seeking friction. His smirk is taunting, both hands going up to my cheeks, four eyes meeting in the middle of a tired night.

“What now?” I say, unsure, panting as his thumb toys with my lips, pushing inside for a moment.

“Do you want a shower first?” He asks, staring at me, a boyish smile on his face.

“I should. I’m disgusting.”

“Nonsense,” The tip of his nose is pressed to my cheek, a ghostly kiss left behind on my jaw. “You look amazing anyway. Why d'ya think I’m so worked up?”

“Were you thinking of me? Getting yourself off imagining my hands around you? My spit and my lips, hmm?”

Louis pants when I grind down on him, slick with the throb of him against me. The fabric of my panties still forbids me from knowing his skin on mine, from sinking and swallowing him whole.

“Yeah, I was. Always think abou' ya', love.”

“I think about you too,” The friction makes me lean forward, sighing against his warm neck. “Nights get so lonely… I miss you so much, you know.”

“Darling…”

“Mmhm, I have to touch myself, grab my boobs,” I place his hands on them, and he squeezes, promptly. Fills his hands. It’s swollen, sore even. I’m burning up.

“Do you say my name when you come?” Louis asks, quietly, sucking a patch of skin. I’ve got goosebumps, I’m reeling from the build-up.

“I do. Over and over and over,” The room feels warmer if that's possible. Sweat drips down my back. I’m aware as to why I’m so sensitive, besides the yearning when it’s been months since he last touched me, my period heightens things up.

For a moment there, I almost forgot it.

“Can I just fuck you now, doll?” It’s a hoarse whisper, I clench in frustration. I’m hot, nearly suffocating. “Want t’ feel yeh so bad.”

His accent thickens, I’m lost, too into the moment to think coherently. I go for his lips, kissing him with passion, biting down on his bottom lip, still moving my hips, rolling against his. He pushes back, groaning into my mouth. It’s sinful. Everything about him is.

“Can’t, sweets,” It slips out, breathlessly. “‘M bloody down there.”

He smiles, soothing, hands firm on my hips. My stomach somersaults, it’s amazing how Louis manages to make me feel 17 every time he gives me that gorgeous smile of his. I feel like one of his groupies.

“Never cared ‘bout that before. C’mon, help me out.”

“Lou…” A strangled noise followed. I’m reaching a point where pleasure mixes with pain, I’m too aroused, too sensitive. He touches me there, trained fingers light to not hurt me but enough to stir me on. “You’re trying to bribe me, aren’t you?”

“Am I getting there?” The double entendre makes me chuckle, nodding. “Good. Let me take those off, hmm?”

“Come,” I untangle myself from him, the cold, empty feeling brings a pang to my lower belly. “If we’re doing this, let’s do it in the shower.”

I slide off my panties, tossing them at him. Louis laughs wholeheartedly, balling it in his hand while kicking the sheets away to follow me into our bathroom.

It’s bright, with mirrors everywhere. My hair looks an absolute mess, strands falling down my shoulders, I’ve got flushed cheeks, and glistening skin, perspiration all over. Five minutes with him just does that to you. He looks impressive from behind me, his brown hair was thrown back, wide blue eyes staring right at me from the reflection. I can see the extension of his tattoos, the tanned skin from being under the sun a little too long last weekend.

Louis is a sight for sore eyes.

We exchange a look then smile. The kind of intimacy that only comes when you love someone, beyond passion, beyond attraction.

He undoes the clasp of my bra. I sigh in relief, gasping when his hands cup my boobs, pinching my oversensitive nipples. I can’t help but toss my head back, resting it on his shoulder. He’s good at this, playing with me, edging me out.

“Missed them even more,” Louis expresses, a half-smile on his face. “You’ve got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

“You know you’re probably the only man on earth that can get away with saying stuff like that, right?” We share a laugh. “Turn the water on, sweets, yeah? I need to take the tampon off.”

While he busies himself with getting things ready, I put my leg up on the toilet and gently pull it out, being careful not to spill any blood on the floor. I’m mentally grateful it’s not an extra heavy day. I wrap it up in toilet paper and toss it in the bin.

“Water is warm, baby,” Steam starts to fog up the room. “Come.”

“I hope I will.” I wink at him. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so cheeky.

“Don’t tease me,” Lust soaks up his voice, eyes stern. He’d punish me for sure. When I wasn’t expecting him to do so. When we weren’t so desperate for each other. Whenever he’s back home, there’s no games, just tension relief.

He goes in, standing beneath the shower rain, his back facing me. I look at his ass, all perky and round. It’s no secret that I got a thing for it, and I might’ve bitten it a few… hundred times. Whenever I get the chance, really. I grab them, squeezing the muscle, a hoarse laugh falling from his lips. Louis thinks it’s silly, doesn’t see how it’s so great.

We kiss, then. In a brief moment, he spins and pulls me in, tongue rolling ‘round with mine. It’s wet, crude even. I make sounds that would mistake me for a pornstar, groaning when his tip brushes where I’m aching with need. He pulls my hair back, exposing my neck to him, sucking and biting. Leaving behind bruises I’ll have trouble covering. The adrenaline high doesn’t let me focus on that, though.

His hand slides between us, lodging between my legs, his palm pressing my pulsating clit. I call out for him, squeezing his shoulders, whimpering. Just this faint touch sends me into overdrive. It’s borderline ridiculous. How good he is. Or how much I want him. How I crave for him like a junkie craves a fix. It’s the trip of a lifetime when he’s inside me.

I go for his dick, so painfully hard it could cut right through me. There’s something about watching his eyes snap close, or how he moans, but I wobble, my breathing going fitful. He says my name, pressing his soft lips to my forehead, still rubbing me out. My hand seems smaller when it’s wrapped around the width of him. Louis feels heavy and scorching hot.

“I want to do something,” I whisper, high on the pleasure he was giving me. “Would you let me?”

“I want to fuck you, darling,” It’s raw, doesn’t sound dirty, more like a pleading question. “Please let me, hmm? I want to fill you up. Watch it drip down out of you. My pretty baby with cum all over her legs.”

A pained whimper comes out.

The tip of his fingers are stained red, they never really slipped inside me, just circling, creating a build-up that leaves me in discomfort. It’s unusual how much time we are taking with this, at this point, we would’ve fucked about three times already. Either way, I like it. The glint in his eyes, eyes that I adore. Diamond beauties staring down at me, so full of desire. It’s powerful. To know you have such an effect on a man like him.

I place him in the tight space between my thighs, both of us groaning with the stronger contact. I’m dripping and it’s not just blood, he’s thrumming, hips sloppily jerking forward. I feel him almost in me, but not quite. I scream, I’m sure our neighbours would make complaints. I don’t find it in me to care. It's way too heavenly.

Tattooed hands land on each of my love handles, our bodies are almost one at this point. That’s when he lifts my leg, we both can’t do any more foreplay, no more waiting. I help him inside, a little bit of blood gushing before he’s deep within. It takes a while for me to get used to him again, two months can be enough for things to shrink back up.

“God, your cunt is so fucking tight,” He mumbles, out-of-worldly. “You’re gonna make me come and I barely even started.”

“And you’re so fucking big, gonna split me open,” I shoot back, gripping tight on his forearm, trying to balance myself as he starts to pound, slowly at first. “Fuck, baby. This is so good.”

“Tell me who can make you feel so good, baby doll,” A particular hard snap of his hips makes me sway on my step, but his iron grip steadies me. “Use your words. I want to know.”

“You!” It’s a desperate squeal, I feel full, he stretches me to a burning point. Pain mixing with pleasure. It doesn’t take a scientist to tell me I’ll have trouble sitting down tomorrow. “You, baby.”

Louis lifts my other leg, both on the crook of his arms, and presses me against the tiled wall of our bathroom. His teeth clamp around my nipple, biting, sucking. I feel dizzy with the torrential rain of emotions. The water keeps falling on us, warm. It splashes when he thrusts.

None of us is lasting longer. I wasn’t particularly known to do so, not when he was the one handling me anyway. Some people are just skilled. Just know how to push somebody else’s buttons. And Louis knew how to push mine. He knew how to push me into the fucking edge. Coax a string of orgasms out of me if he so wanted. With his fingers, with his tongue, with his dick.

I moan, one hand tugging the hair at the nape of his neck and the other going to where our bodies met. It’s a fucking sight. Watching him go in then out of me. I start rubbing myself.

“You have to be quieter,” He says, our foreheads glued together, still slamming into me like I’m his favourite rag doll. “We don’t need people calling the police.”

“It’s your fault,” My reply is followed by a curse word. “Giving it to me so good like that.”

“Mmhm,” Dark blue looks at me, I can feel him getting sloppier. It’s close.

In urgency, he kisses me, I’m too frail, too putty in his hands. A numbness starts on the tip of my toes, it makes my eyes roll back, I can��t even voice anything anymore, entirely surrendered to him. To the vulnerability of this moment. Being his as much as he’s mine.

Time stands still whenever I’m with him. And right now, I can’t even keep track of it, too lost in him. That’s why I don’t know how long it took, it could’ve been seconds or minutes or hours. But I broke. Went up screaming. Barely registering he was telling me to shush, that it was too late in the night to be so loud. If that was what he was saying at all.

I’m shuddering, that I can tell with conviction, convulsing. That doesn’t happen often. I mean, it’s always fucking good, but like this, like I’m on something, that’s exceptional. At one point, he growls, squeezing me tighter. His hips stutter, face squashed against my chest. He spends himself inside me, as it was promised. I’m beyond satisfied, I’m in a state of bliss no one can reach me. Where the world doesn’t exist, only him.

Louis stays in for a while longer, nuzzling between my breasts, I play with his hair, a bubbly smile on my face. No high higher than this. He helps me down, I don’t trust my feet, clinging to him like a child. A chuckle falls from his lips.

“That good, huh?”

I just nod.

“I’ll help you clean up.”

With a sponge and a bit of liquid soap, Louis rubs down my body, taking his time to bubble me up. I’m still sensitive to touch, I have to pull his hand away when he tries to touch me down there, where I’m probably red and still swollen. I can feel the burn. Good burn, though.

When we both finish cleaning ourselves up, we step out of the shower. He still has a protective hand around my waistline. I wince at the thought of moving away, but I have to, I can tell I’m one second shy of making a mess on the floor.

He fetches us towels while I go deal with the bloody problem. Pun intended. I clean the dripping blood mixed with cum on my thighs, and when I look up, deep blue is fixed on me. As if entranced.

“What?”

“You just look hot.”

A little laugh slips.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad,” I groan, it’s still sore-ish when I slide the tampon in. “You really did a number on me.”

“Eh, who’s counting?”

Louis winks, helping me up, I’m still weak on the legs. There’s no need to get dressed, so we wrap ourselves under the sheets, our sopping hair making stains on the pillows.

It’s so painfully intimate.

“I love you,” I whisper, half-asleep, minutes later.

“I love you more.”

His voice is the last sound I hear before I drift to the first night of sleep where I feel full, happy, and satiated. Slept like a queen, his arms wrapped around my waist, cheek pressed to my back. I was on my little piece of heaven and no one could ever snap me out.

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