#okay i will stop now before i fill up the tags with more nonsense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

filthy-mudeoki · 7 months

Text

Little gift

It's the most magnificent news they've ever received; this little star of theirs. Sang Zhi and Duan Jiaxu decide it's time to share the excitement with their family ... but first they're going to have a little fun with it.

Tagging: @kairadiamond .... it's been a while bestie! Hope you enjoy this one!

No jokes though it has been some time since I last posted a story. I hope you all enjoy this one. Thank you all for the wonderful response to all these stories!

You can read the others stories that fall part of the series on AO3 called Slowly, then all at once

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The tiny little sound fills the room and for a moment neither Jiaxu or Sang Zhi can breathe. He looks at his wife, her eyes wide in surprise with a hand over her mouth as she muffles her gasp.

“Is that ...” he’s scared to ask. Worried that the beautiful little sound will go away.

The doctor smiles kindly. “Yes. That’s your baby’s heartbeat. And this,” she says swivelling the screen around and points to something he cannot make out, “is your baby.”

Both Jiaxu and Sang Zhi lean forward. It takes a while before he sees it. But when he does, his heart stops for a moment. There it is, a tiny blip of a thing. Their baby.

They sit pressed together for the longest time. The doctor kindly leaves them for a bit. Jiaxu has Sang Zhi engulfed in his embrace as they stare at the tiny blob on the screen.

“Can you believe?” Sang Zhi asks. Her voice is a soft whisper in the room, but it carries all the awe and wonder they both feel.

“No.” He presses a kiss to her hair and smiles. It still very much feels like a dream.

She chuckles. “I think we can tell our family now.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“Hm… yes. I want them to know. Are you okay with that?”

“Of course.” He can’t wait to share this utterly wonderful news and he knows their family will be beyond happy.

They leave the doctor’s room with three copies of the ultrasound picture. Their baby is only a little blob on the picture and more than once Sang Zhi has lost it as she stares at it. Jiaxu only chuckles softly and kindly points it out to her again. When they get home, Sang Zhi takes their copy of the scan and draws a heart around their baby. She sticks it to the mirror at their vanity, so that they can see it every morning as they get ready.

They decide to tell Sang Yan first. There is no true reason beyond they fact that they don’t think they’ll be able to keep it a secret from him much longer. He’s almost always at their house, Sang Zhi is surprised they haven’t let it spill yet.

Sang Zhi and Jiaxu decide to tease him a little over it too. Sang Zhi places the ultrasound photo with two other objects she’s gotten in a big box and wraps it up, adding a bow too. She leaves it out, knowing Sang Yan in all his curiosity will find it sooner or later. Atop the box she fixes a tag that simply says:

To Sang Yan

From X

It’s enough to drive him crazy she knows. The message inside the box contains a little more information and Sang Zhi can’t wait to see her brother’s face when he reads it.

But first they have fun with it.

Sang Yan comes around for dinner every other day and it does not take him long to find the prettily wrapped box.

“Ya, little demon! Why are you hiding this?” he frowns holding up the box for closer inspection.

Sang Zhi rushes to him and tries to reach for it. “It’s not for you!”

Sang Yan immediately objects. “What do you mean? It’s got my name right there.” He points to it on the envelope. “Who is X? When did you get this?”

Sang Zhi makes a show of rolling her eyes and sounding exasperated. “It’s not for you! Not yet at least.”

“What do you mean?”

She sneakily steals back the box with his attention diverted. “It’s not ready yet. You have to wait before you can receive this gift.”

“That’s nonsense! I want to see it now! Give it back little demon,” he demands, trying to take the box back.

Sang Zhi squeals and jumps away. Jiaxu has to resist the urge to tell her to be more careful. He’s been extra attentive on everything that his wife does. But he knows if he says something, it will give away their little game. So, he pouts and turns his back on the siblings so he does not see all the new ways his wife will cause him to have a little heart attack. He can still hear them arguing and laughs.

“Sang Zhi, my name is on the box. It belongs to me!”

“Not yet! You have to wait gēge!” She huffs and puts the box back on the shelf. “It’s not time yet. You’ll just have to be patient!”

Sang Yan scowls. “Fine! But at least tell me who it is from.”

Sang Zhi gives her brother a sweet smile. “No.”

“Little demon!”

“Silly dog!”

Jiaxu laughs as he comes back into the room, carrying the last of the food. “Come on you two. Let’s eat.”

“Ya! Jiaxu! You know who it’s from. Tell me,” Sang Yan whines. “What is it?”

Jiaxu shakes his head. “I don’t know anything.”

Sang Yan narrows his eyes at his best friend. “Liar.”

Jiaxu only laughs as they start eating. Throughout dinner, Sang Yan looks longingly at the box. It takes everything Jiaxu and Sang Zhi have not to burst out laughing.

“Zhizhi, tell me,” Sang Yan tries to coax over dessert. “Please … just a little clue. You don’t have to tell me what’s in it. Just who it’s from.”

Sang Zhi only smiles and shakes her head. Sang Yan leaves their home that night with a mighty pout and Jiaxu knows Sang Zhi has won the first round.

It does not take long for Sang Yan to start round two. He takes to hounding her, now that he can’t find the box. (She’s hidden it away knowing Sang Yan’s curiosity will likely cause him to rip the box open.)

“Where is it?” he frowns one night as they settle for a movie and drinks.

Sang Zhi smiles innocently and Jiaxu hides his smirk behind his drink. “Where is what?”

Sang Yan does not buy it, pursing his lips at his sister. “Is this supposed to be some kind of treasure hunt? Am I supposed to go looking for it?”

“Don’t you dare go trifling through my drawers you silly dog!”

Sang Yan smirks. “Maybe I will. Scared I’ll find it?”

Not one to be beaten so easily, Jiaxu watches as his Zhizhi tosses her hair over her shoulders, fixing her brother with a smirk.

“You really want to go through my things, Sang Yan? Aren’t you afraid of what you might find?”

Jiaxu chokes on his drink as a slight pink tinge over takes his cheeks. The subtle implication of her words not lost on any of them. Sang Yan squirms in his seat, his face settling into another aggrieved scowl.

Point Zhizhi.

They settle in for the movie and Sang Yan does not mention the box until he leaves.

“Just tell me who X is.”

Sang Zhi shakes her head and tries to playfully push him out the door. Sang Yan pushes back and Jiaxu has to close his eyes again as he watches the siblings. Sang Yan does not know it yet, but Jiaxu has been extra careful around Sang Zhi. He knows it’s going to drive his wife crazy sooner or later but he can’t quite help it yet.

“Bye gēge! Maybe if you’re kind to me next time I’ll tell you!” She laughs as she closes the door.

Jiaxu comes around, laughing as he hugs his wife close. “How much longer are you going to torture him?”

She wrinkles her nose and he places a kiss on it because it’s utterly adorable when she does that. He wonders for a moment if their child will do the same. He’s been having a lot of those kind of thoughts lately.

Jiaxu wonders all kinds of things. At the moment its mostly what will their baby look like. He’s not overly particular about it being a girl or a boy, so long as it is healthy. At least that is what he had thought first. Now that they’ve had more time to think about it, he hopes that maybe it will be a girl. He won’t mind it either way, but there is something about having a mini version of Sang Zhi that sets his heart high. He can just picture the two of them in his mind. He’s lost himself to that daydream on more than one occasion so far.

It makes him giddy with excitement that he almost always forgets how nervous he actually is about having a baby.

“Maybe I’ll take pity on him and tell him next time.” She laughs and Jiaxu kisses her.

“Speaking of which, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Jumping around like that Zhizhi,” Jiaxu says softly.

“Ah, sorry.” She winces. “But I’m okay.”

“I now… it’s just …” he sighs not knowing how to explain just how nervous he is about all this.

He doesn’t have to. She cups his cheek, pulling his closer. “I know. I’ll be more careful, Jiaxu.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

He smiles down at her, kissing her cheeks, then her nose and then at last pulls her even closer as his lips finds hers.

They don’t have to wait long for Sang Yan to come around again. He comes bearing a delicious chocolate cake that is a favourite of Sang Zhi’s. He’s hoping to bribe his way to the truth. It’s a bribe that is not really needed as this time she purposely does a poor job of hiding the wrapped box near the couch. Sang Yan finds it not long after he arrives and begins to pester Sang Zhi.

“Come on! Just tell me!”

“No!”

“But it’s got my name on it!”

“So? It’s not ready yet. You have to wait a little longer.”

“What does that even mean? Are you making it? Is it something I can eat? Or … Is it is a new game?”

Sang Zhi looks thoughtful. “I suppose in time it could be something you could play with. But you’d have to be very careful with it.”

“Is it delicate?”

“Very,” Jiaxu immediately answers.

Sang Yan’s eyes grow wide and he leaps over the couch, marching over to his friend. “You do know! Tell me! Tell me now!”

“No!” Jiaxu laughs, backing up. But there isn’t much room left for him to run. “You have to wait. But trust me, dàjiùzi it’s worth the wait.”

Sang Yan does not look appeased. He huffs before turning back to his sister. “Ya, little demon, just tell me or I’ll open the box now.”

“You will not!” she immediately scolds.

Sang Yan smirks and lunges for the box that has been sitting on the table. Sang Zhi copies his action and Jiaxu winces and them both. His heart in his stomach and before he knows it, he’s reaching for his wife. One hand grabs the box while the other wraps around her waist, pulling her close to him. She stalls her movements as he looks at her with an amused look and a raised brow.

She’s somewhat sheepish as she suddenly remembers.

Huffing, she looks at her brother then over to her husband. They share a knowing smile and it’s enough to drive Sang Yan crazy.

Jiaxu takes pity on his friend. “Shall we tell him?”

“Hhm…” Sang Zhi looks at her brother, and he’s trying to glare at them but it loses all its real power as he stares at the box in Jiaxu’s hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait, gēge?”

“Sang Zhi!” her brother whines.

She laughs, taking the box from Jiaxu. “Fine! But I still think you’d appreciate this … little gift if you waited a little longer.”

He shakes his head in disagreement but argues no further when Sang Zhi holds the box out to him. He raises a brow, sceptical for a moment, but quickly takes it from her before she can change her mind.

The bow is quickly cast aside as is the wrapping. Sang Zhi is giggling and Jiaxu presses a kiss to her head, the nervousness in his stomach rising once more. He’s excited about this. Hasn’t stop thinking about it since Sang Zhi told him and he hopes with all his heart that Sang Yan will be just as happy.

“What …?” Sang Yan asks confused as he looks inside the box.

He pulls out two similar pair of whacky sunglasses. Reminiscent of the ones Sang Zhi had once bought for him. Except these are a little more … extra.

“Is this supposed to be for me?” he asks holding up one pair.

Sang Zhi nods, a brilliant beaming smile on her face.

He laughs, and wastes no time placing the glasses on his face. “And this one?” he holds out the other pair. They match his except they’re much smaller in size. A kiddie size if Sang Yan were to guess.

“Look again gēge,” Sag Zhi prompts.

Sang Yan does and finally notices the ultrasound photo at the bottom of the box. He lifts it’s, a confused frown on his face. He looks between the photo and them.

“Turn it over, dàjiùzi,” Jiaxu offers.

Sang Yan turns it over, and his eyes go wide as he reads the message Sang Zhi has left for him on the back.

For my favourite jiù jiu. I can’t wait to meet you. From Baby Duan.

“Jiù jiu …b-baby Duan…?” he stumbles over the words looking at them in disbelief. Sang Yan looks at his two-favourite people in the world with shock and awe. “Zhizhi… are you really pregnant?”

She smiles so wide; she does have the mind for words. Nodding only as she looks at her brother. He stumbles back, holding the note tightly in his hand.

“Really? I’m going to be an uncle?”

“Yes. You’re going to be a jiù jiu.”

Sang Yan takes in a shaky breath before he grins at them both. “Ya! Little demon! I’m going to be a jiù jiu!”

Sang Zhi laughs and Jiaxu lets go as Sang Yan comes over to hug her. Her brother hugs her tightly and they don’t need words between them for her to know how excited and thrilled Sang Yan is for them.

“I can’t believe you two are going to be parents.” Sang Yan says. He’s the most sincere Jiaxu has seen in a while when he pulls Jiaxu in for a hug. “Congrats brother,” he whispers to Jiaxu.

Sang Zhi wipes the tears from her face and rushes to get something to celebrate the moment with. She returns with sparkling cider and Sang Yan is so happy he doesn’t even blink an eye when Jiaxu pours him a glass too.

They toast to the new addition and Sang Yan can’t help but look at his sister and brother-in-law with new awe. He’s also unbelievably happy. He can’t think of anybody that deserves it more. He’s already more than confident that they will make the best parents to this little baby. This little gift that he can’t wait to meet.

“The baby won’t be here for another seven or so months,” Sang Zhi tells him.

They’re all sitting in the living room now. Jiaxu’s put on music and Sang Yan insisted on being the one to organise their snacks. Sang Zhi had rolled her eyes, suddenly realising it was not just an overprotective Jiaxu she would have to deal with now.

“Have you told māma and bàba yet?”

“No. I will tell them soon,” Sang Zhi says. “Will you be there when we do?”

“Of course. If that is what you want. But you know, they’re going to be so happy.” Sang Yan looks at his sister and brother-in-law, “I am happy for you both. You’re going to make great parents.”

“Thank you,” Jiaxu replies.

Sang Yan sniffles back his tears and raises his glass. He looks at his sister as she sits with Jiaxu, both their hands placed gently over her stomach. “To our little gift. I can’t wait to meet you.”

Sang Zhi and Jiaxu chuckle, raising their glasses as they echo his sentiments. Seven months suddenly seems far too long a wait for them.

jiù jiu – uncle

gēge – brother

māma – mum

bàba - dad

22 notes · View notes

alieinthemorning · 3 months

Text

Figure Skating [Ashido Mina]

Content: Fluff, Figure Skating, Injury, Love Confessions

Pronouns: None

Header: @/nimuello

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Today was the day.

The day you were going to confess your feelings!

Sure, there’d be other people there, friends too, but that wasn’t going to deter you.

You gave yourself a determined look in the mirror. “I’m going to confess to Ashido Mina today no matter what.”

“Hey! You ready?”

You jumped with a high-pitched squeal.

Speak of the devil.

Mina surged forward, steadying the tittering mirror. “Woah, you good?” She gave you a once over. “You looked flushed… are you sure you can come with us?”

“I’m fine! I’m totally fine! Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now,” You stepped around her, grabbing your bag. “Let’s go!”

The way to the skating rink should have been filled with nonsensical chatter about your holiday plans, but instead your thoughts were filled to the brim on the confession.

When would you do it? Closer to when it's time to go, or in the middle?

How would you do it? Pull off a few cool moves, or simply hold her hand?

What would you say? A simple confession, or something more drawn out?

Would you do it alone or with people around? Near the boys or around strangers?

Where would you do it? On the rink or on a bench?

Why are you doing it?

Why were you doing it?

Sure, you liked her, what wasn’t there to like, but you?

You frowned.

You were… average. You’d never been as great as Mina, and she deserved better than you.

Enjirou nudged you. “Everything good?”

You pulled the frown into what you’d hoped was a believable smile and said. “Yep! Just a little nervous is all!” He believed it, giving you a reassuring pat on the back, and left it at that.

The skating rink wasn’t as packed as you’d thought it would be yet was still lively enough.

Just before your group headed over to the desk, Mina called for your attention. “Okay guys, one more time before we go in. Absolutely no quirks.” She gave Katsuki a hard look, “Am I clear?” He rolled his eyes with a grunt, and pushed past her, with Enjirou chasing after him.

In Katsuki-speak, that meant “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I have a few moves I want to show you guys.”

“Oh?” Hanta raised a brow. “Is it gonna be like what you showed us in class?”

“The break dancing stuff? Nah, that’d be too dangerous.”

“So, like, actually figure skating stuff?” Denki tried.

“I’m not telling!” She stuck her tongue out. “So you’re just gonna have to watch me!”

You’d watch her till your dying breath.

It had been awhile since you’d last done any ice skating, so you were a little shaky on the ice, but after about 20 minutes, you’d found your center. Since then, you’d been following Mina around the rink, simply watching as she pulled off actual figure skating moves ever so gracefully.

You wondered, if Quirks never existed, could the two of you live normal lives? Mina as a dancer, and you as her biggest fan? You would have met her at one of her performances, hitting it off from there? Living happily ever—

“Ah!” You weren’t watching where you were going and ended up slamming right into the wall. “Ow, ow, ow…” You rubbed your thigh, which you had landed on pretty hard.

“Oh my gosh!” Mina slid up beside you. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I, uh, wasn’t watching where I was going, and I ran into the wall.”

“Can you stand?” She helped you up. “Come on, let’s take a break.”

“No! Don’t let me stop you. I can go sit by myself.” You tried to pull away from her, but she pulled you back in.

She puffed her cheeks. “I know you’re hurting. You need to sit down.”

Ever so slowly, she pulled you off the ice and over to a bench, then went off to get something cold for the swelling and snacks.

Leaving you alone, just you and your thoughts.

If you had just been paying attention, this wouldn’t have happened.

If you hadn’t drawn attention to yourself, she wouldn’t have noticed.

If you had only lied better, she wouldn’t have stopped.

And you could have kept watching her.

You only felt the tears after a cold breeze stung your cheeks.

You tried to wipe them away but—

“Oh no! Does it hurt that bad?”

Mina. Always so caring.

And for her to care about someone like you—

“Should I call someone—?”

“I’m so sorry!” You shouted. “This is all my fault! If I hadn’t fallen, none of this would have happened.”

She sat beside you, placing the cold water bottle on the afflicted part of your thigh. “Accidents happen. It’s okay.”

You shook your head. “But it's not! If I hadn’t been so stupid, I wouldn’t have made you stop. If I wasn’t such a baby, you wouldn’t have to worry about me.” You sighed. “You really do deserve someone better than me…”

“…what?”

You sighed again, looking away. Might as well get this over with now. “Today was the day that I was going to confess my feelings for you, Mina.”

“H—huh? You like me?”

You gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, but don’t worry. You don’t have to answer me. I already know your—”

“I like you too!” She grabbed your hands. “The whole reason why I learned those moves was to impress you! I wanted to confess to you today too!”

“You…” She, “like me too?” liked you too?

“Yep! Which means,” She took a look around the area, “I can finally do this.” then leaned in, giving you a peck on the lips.

You passed out from overheating.

It was definitely worth it, though.

In this updated version, I mainly just fixed grammar, and also adressed the boys by their first name instead of their family name.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie ficlets: version 2 #bnha x reader #mha x reader #ashido mina x reader

2 notes · View notes

amatchinwater · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Steddie

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler

Warnings: explicit sexual content, blow jobs, cum swallowing, heavy orgasm delay, mild jealousy, possessive behavior

Words: 1601

Kinktober: Orgasm Delay/Denial

Ao3 link Masterlist

Reposting because Tumblr didn't want to put it in the tags 🙃

---

Let Eddie start by saying he’s not much of a jealous person. He really isn’t. Eddie is more than secure in his relationship with Steve. He doesn’t feel threatened by all the pretty girls that walk by and fawn over him. Or the guys still in the closet casting side glances when they think no one’s watching them. But this shit? Watching Nancy paw all over Steve like she doesn’t have a boyfriend of her own?

Boils Eddie’s blood something fierce.

They were supposed to be watching a movie together tonight, so Eddie is parked outside Family Video waiting for Steve to finish his shift. But through the big ass glass windows, all Eddie can see is his boyfriend’s ex damn near throwing herself at him. He should stay in the car, Eddie knows that. He shouldn’t walk in there and give the girl a piece of his mind. Especially considering that Steve isn’t really feeding into any of her advances or whatever nonsense is coming out of her mouth.

It’s more so the fact that, yes, Steve isn’t reciprocating, he’s just not doing anything to stop it either. Flicking his cigarette onto the pavement, Eddie gets out of the van. Squaring his shoulders, he crushes the bud’s embers with his boot, stalking into the store. The bell over his head dings loudly from yanking the door open and both pairs of eyes shoot to his direction. Nancy’s fills with a clouded disdain, like she’s trying her best to hide it. Steve’s brighten, glistening with adoration.

It puffs Eddie’s chest with pride watching Steve slide away from his ex to lean on the counter towards him instead.

Just a little unfortunate that he’s still a little pissed off and not quite in the mood to play nice. Something dangerously close to possessiveness, a sense of territorial nature courses through him and before Steve can so much as utter a hello, Eddie slams their mouths together. More pride rushes through him at the soft noise his boyfriend makes in the back of his throat when Eddie licks into his mouth. Not caring one bit that Nancy is standing there watching them make out.

Steve’s his.

A well known fact at this point.

Hell, the Slayer shirt underneath Steve’s uniform vest is Eddie’s.

“Get a room,” Nancy grumbles under his breath.

Eddie laughs, a fake sound that’s more of a scoff, not even remotely filled with humor. He pulls away from Steve’s mouth, “I’m sorry,” he scoffs again, glaring at the girl, “do you have a problem with me kissing my boyfriend?”

“Eds,” Steve’s hand curls around his bicep.

“No, no,” he chuckles, softening his gaze for the flickering moment he looks at Steve, “I wanna know.” Eddie turns his attention back to Nancy, her brows pinched in annoyance. “I don’t see a problem with showing my boyfriend affection when I come to pick him up from work for our date night.” Eddie nods his head to the side, “unless, of course, there’s another reason. Like maybe you want him for yourself.”

Nancy’s mouth falls open, sputtering to try and come up with a response.

“Eddie!” Steve scolds his name, “let’s just drop it, okay? I’m sure she didn’t mean-”

“Are you serious? You’re defending her right now?” Eddie snaps, thinking his boyfriend is trying to stop this for his ex-girlfriend’s sake. “I’m not the one flirting with someone else while I have a boyfriend of my own,” his eyes darken and an almost sneer pulls at his lips when he looks back at Nancy, “again.”

“I-I don’t-”

“Yeah, I know all about how you cheated on him with Jonathon, princess,” Eddie interrupts her. “I don’t care how sorry you are that you hurt him or how much you regret leaving him or wish he was yours again. Understand this-” Eddie steps towards her, enjoying the height difference making him seem a little more menacing than usual. “-he’s mine and you will never and I mean ever get the chance to hurt him again. So why don’t you go call Jonathon, I’m sure he’d love to know how many times you just pawed at Steve’s chest and arms.”

“Steve, I-” Nancy’s face reddens, but whatever else she was trying to say neither boy hears due to Steve all but dragging Eddie out of the video store and towards his van.

His back slams against the side door, expecting a lecture Eddie says, “I’m sorr-'' but Steve’s lips crash into his. Fingers curling into his denim vest and leather jacket, silencing his apologies.

“I wasn’t defending her,” Steve huffs his breaths against Eddie’s mouth, “I was defending you. I know how you can get when someone pisses you off too much. I’ve patched up a lot of bloody knuckles from Jason’s bullshit.”

“I’d never lay a hand on her,” Eddie whispers.

“I know,” his boyfriend leans back to look at him, brushing a stray curl out of his face. “But your tongue is just as sharp.”

Eddie snorts, grabbing Steve’s waist to pull them flush together, “I thought you liked my tongue.”

The other boy rolls his eyes at him, chuckling, “shut up,” before kissing him with a smile.

---

It didn’t take long for Eddie to discover that Steve really likes being edged. No matter what way he chooses to do it either. Fuck his boyfriend relentlessly until he just reaches the brink the slows to a leisurely pace or pull out completely? Steve goes nuts for that shit. Suck him off until he becomes a whimpering mess and Eddie can feel him twitch against his tongue then cease all movement? Man, the way his boyfriend squirms is the best thing. Pale, mole speckled flesh flushing a beautiful shade of red.

But there’s one thing Steve forgot.

Just how good Eddie is at doing it. How strong his resolve is. Especially if he’s ticked off and wanting a bit of a punishment or way to relieve his own stress. Needless to say after watching the whole scene with Nancy, Eddie isn’t in the happiest mood right now. And Steve is just too fun to play with.

Handcuffed to his bed, Steve is already turning pink having been brought so close to the edge three times already. Eddie really wants to see his boyfriend tremble a bit first. Needs it even. Some sick part of him wanting to hear Steve beg him for release because he’s the only one who can get him like this. Such a strong man broken down to babbled pleas and teary eyes.

“Eds,” his boyfriend huffs, trying to take a proper breath, “please. Babe, please,” Steve’s hairy chest heaves, wrists tugging against the cuffs.

“Please what, sweet thing?” Eddie teases, hand lazily pumping his boyfriend’s cock. Brown eyes flickering over Steve’s face where he’s still curled beside him. He’ll give him the pleasure of his mouth. In a minute.

Steve comes dangerously close to a growled out whine, body jerking on the bed. His own brown eyes snap to him, “I want to cum, please, Eds.”

“Aww,” he coos, leaning in to slot their mouths together, moving his hand faster. Groaning into the kiss, Eddie simply adores the way his boyfriend whimpers around his tongue, little breaths catching in his throat. “Not yet,” he whispers against Steve’s mouth, ceasing all movement and moving away for good measure.

“Eddie,” Steve whines, eyes getting a little bloodshot.

Oh, he’s so close to that beautiful mess.

Taking just a touch of pity on his boyfriend, Eddie crawls down the bed, spreading Steve’s legs to tease his tongue at his neglected hole. Steve yelps his moan at the action, so incredibly sensitive. Eddie chuckles, licking a long stripe up his balls and to his leaking cock. One more. Just one more and Steve will be right where Eddie wants him. He knows what to say if it’s too much. But fuck if his eyes aren’t communicating the most perfect green.

So Eddie takes him all the way to the back of his throat, moaning around the tip. Steve is gasping for air, barely any sounds to his moans. Eddie hollows his cheeks, sucking hard and fast, fondling Steve’s balls. He feels them tighten in his grasp, his boyfriend’s inhales getting shorter and shorter.

Then Eddie stops, taking his mouth off completely.

Steve cries out angrily. Wet, glazed, brown eyes boring into him, “Eddie, please. Please, I just want to cum. Please, I can’t-” Steve pants, “I can’t, please. Please, Eds, please.”

“Such a sweet thing,” Eddie praises, kissing his boyfriend’s shaking thigh, “asking so nicely. Okay, baby,” he licks the same path as before, chuckling at the shiver he gets for it, “cum for me.” Eddie doesn’t hold back. Doubling his efforts, he deep throats Steve with a purpose, making sure all of his drool drips down to his balls.

It doesn’t take much before Steve’s throat cracks on his moan, his cum filling Eddie’s eager mouth. Fuck, does he love that taste. He never lets a single drop go to waste, swallowing and continuing to suck Steve’s cock until it’s clean. A pleased hum ripples Eddie’s chest when he pulls off with a pop and his boyfriend jolts. Eyes so heavily lidded, he’s not sure they’re even actually open with wet, flushed cheeks.

Beautiful.

Eddie climbs over his boyfriend, bumping their noses together and Steve hums around a grin. “My pretty boy,” he says, pecking Steve’s nose.

Steve laughs, “yeah, yeah, yours. I’m yours, Eds,” he lifts his head to press their mouths together, wrapping his legs around Eddie to keep them close.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things 4 #kinktober vol. 2 #Match Writes

7 notes · View notes

amorchai · 9 months

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐑.

pairings: jess mariano x reader

summary: someone you don’t like wins your basket in the easter competition, but jess is there to save the day.

word count: 2077

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, a guy being a bit full-on [ nothing major , but jess saves the day ] jess being an absolute fluffy softy, jess being boyfriend material!

the dreaded day of the easter basket competition had arrived, and terror had filled your entire body from that very morning. waking up with a pit in your stomach, rory and lane roping you into making one for a date – knowing that randall in your english class is obsessed with the thought of a date with you and had been for months.

you had no hope for the day ahead, you had confided in jess from the moment you agreed to it, running from the square into luke’s diner where jess was reading against the wall of the quiet monday morning. “i’m not participating in this loony town’s stupid traditions, y/n,” jess had told you, much to your dismay of pleading him for help.

“please! if it goes too high a bid i’ll reimburse you, i’ll make a really good meal and we’ll make a day of it. please don’t make me go out with randall carter!” you had asked, trying to ignore the wide smirk across your amused best friends face. jess was thoroughly enjoying it.

he chuckled, book had been thrown on the counter with his arms folded as he listened before leaning towards you. “i’m not going to bid on nonsense like that but i am willing to save you from the date if he wins,” jess had offered.

“jess i don’t want to go out with him, you have to win it!”

“aren’t his parents like super rich?” jess ignored, eyes followed your pained expression as you groaned in dismay from the situation you allowed rory and lane to force you into. you had already signed your name up, taylor knew, there was no going back now.

you knew he couldn’t bid too high, and you didn’t expect jess to, you were just desperate. you had shot down randall far too many times for your liking and he was still willing to try and win you over. jess had hated the guy from the start, but you knew he hated practically everyone.

“you swear to save me from him?” you asked, finger pointed and pressed against jess’ shirt, eyes wide and intimidating jess. he had a teasing glint in his eye, lopsided smirk maintained as he raises one hand, using his finger to cross his heart, ‘hope to die’ he finished with before luke scolded him for slacking during shift.

so, when jess winked at you from the other side of the crowd, your legs slowly stopped shaking. maybe it would be okay, knowing that jess was more than willing to jump in and save you from your dreaded enemy – who was only yards ahead of you with a prideful stride which could only be for one reason.

“fifty dollars!” randall starts with, your mouth immediately gaping at the price he was willing to begin with in order to bag a date with the person he knows doesn’t reciprocate feelings. you felt bad shooting him down at the start, but as he became more persistent, the less empathetic you were.

“sixty,” jess interjects. your head snaps round, quite like luke who was beside him and you watch as his uncle swats his arm in dismay. jess doesn’t have that amount of money to throw around, he worked in his uncle’s diner in his spare time – why would he bid a high amount on a lousy easter basket in order to help you?

“eighty,” you were defeated upon randall’s response, all hope in the chance of jess winning quickly dissipates as you watch jess hesitate. however, when jess saw randall’s smirk and luke’s warned gaze he’s quick to jump on another bet, “a hundred dollars!”

“oh, a hundred dollars, folks! can anyone go higher or do we have a winner?” taylor ramped up the crowd while luke can be heard screaming at his nephew, profanities and light smacks against jess’ shoulder, ordering him to ‘quit it, ya hear me?’

“a hundred and twenty,” replies randall, face full of stream while looking back at jess, strived with motivation and purpose. jess looks back towards you, and you try to plead him to stop, he said he wouldn’t bid high or partake, yet here he was willing to spend a hundred dollars to save you.

he shrugs in apology, well out of his price range and the sound of taylor announcing randall the winner, you smile at him before striding towards the stage where randall waits with the basket full of food.

just as you leave the crowd, you catch sight of jess who throws you another wink before crossing his heart one more time. and you pray to yourself that jess didn’t take long to save the day, randall’s hand all-too close to you as you walk away.

it had been god-awful. randall was far too worth trying, it came across desperate. he boasted of the prior girlfriends he had in hopes you thought he was experienced but only made you realise how insignificant you would be, after telling you of his date last week despite asking you out for months.

your legs swung across the bridge overlooking the lake, for each moment of silence you enjoyed by the trickle of water and swoosh of the trees – only to be ruined when randall’s deep voice undercuts with another foul statement.

your fingers were picking at the crust of fancy bread you choose from the bakery, not willing to eat but wanting to seem preoccupied while randall tells you all about his high grades. that is until a voice interrupts, “oh, i absolutely hate to break this lovely little date you’re on. nice spread, huh?”.

a grin spreads across your face at the voice from behind you, and both of you turn around to see jess standing, hands in his pockets, rolling on the balls of his feet with a contained smirk you could see from just his eyes.

“you bet,” randall replies while continuing to eat the crackers you also brought. jess’ undercut scowl grows soft when he looks from the boy and to you, “luke wants you back for shift.” you’re smirking at him, face unseen by randall as you lean back and raise your hands in faux dismay.

however, randall isn’t amused, “no fair! we’re on a date, mariano.” jess looks disgusted, looking at the horrible attempt at a date – randall sitting like he owns the place, cheese stuck to the sides of his mouth.

through gritted teeth, jess continues, “sorry, rules are rules.” randall taps you, causing you to break your gaze from jess and to look at him instead, “you said you had the day off.” you falter, mouth agape in thought of what to reply, but your saviour steps in once more, “busy day calls for the best staff. y’know, randall, with all the basket dates going on.”

you sigh in relief, making your leave to stand while jess extends his hand to help you up. he wears a wide smile, eyes prideful and gleaming at you as you smirk back at him. his hand doesn’t leave yours, remained intertwined while you use your free one to dust your outfit off from any marks.

“that doesn’t make any sense,” randall interjects the moment, “why would people bring their baskets into a café and eat the food?”. jess knew randall was smart, he actually tried in school but he was an idiot at some common sense that jess could use to his advantage, a small ‘huh’ leaves jess before he replies, “y’know, randall, a lot of things in life don’t make sense”

you’re wide-eyed watching jess, there was something so attractive about him saving the day, speaking up for you, holding your hand. you were entrapped by the boy you called your best friend. he leans past you, a hand extended to randall, “basket, please.”

with a begrudged look to the boy with dripping sarcasm, randall hands it over, feet defeatedly swinging off the bridge as jess looms over him with a look randall didn’t want to cross. you whisper to jess, “ever the gentleman,” you’re both turning away, still hand in hand, and jess glances at you before replying, “well, a gentleman keeps his promise.”

and before you knew it a few footsteps ahead, you broke out into a run, hand intertwined with the boy who saved the day – you both laughing as you left the scene, forgetting all about the try-hard randall defeatedly in his place.

the woods were quiet, the crunching off the leaves getting lower in volume and you both slow down, tired breaths and speckled laughter turning into a comfortable silence paired with the birds whistling in the trees.

every moment you had with jess was one you wanted to mentally keep forever. a mind full of jess keepsakes you could look back and fawn over someone you had grown so comfortable with, your person, the guy you could go to with just about everything. sure, he was sarcastic but he wouldn’t judge – maybe a joke, here and there, but if it’s an upsetting issue jess was nothing but a comforting shoulder, kind and serene voice you could fall asleep to.

you glance at him, and his lope-sided smile hasn’t left his gorgeous face, even when you catch him staring. you can’t break away, a trance you didn’t mind being stuck in forever and something shifts between you both. jess tugs on your hand so you’re standing in front of him, gentle and reassuring squeezes as you feel your back meet a tree.

the view of jess with the scenery behind him, trees floating in the wind, sunlight escaping between the leaves – he was ethereal, and you almost didn’t believe this moment to be true. that’s until the sound of the basket dropping to the ground brings you back.

his hand leaves yours, slowly moving to your jaw while his eyes delicately scan your face in a way that your knees feel weak, jess’ lids half closed before he moves closer to you. you find it hard not to smile during the kiss, jess delicately moving his lips to yours in a moment you have dreamt several times before.

jess’ lips were desperate, nose bumping yours when he tilts his head the other way and you tug on his acdc t-shirt to keep you grounded, obsessed with the feeling of him so close. pulling away, jess glances at your kiss-struck face before pressing another quick peck, both of you wearing tired but loving smiles.

“we should probably make a date out of the remaining food, huh?” you chuckle before agreeing, “oh, there’s still a lot there. turns out randall hates pasta, a long list of fruit, any form of potatoes, and … pretty much everything in here apart from crackers and cheese.”

jess is too busy watching your face, sparkling eyes and your lips moving, you barely say the last word before jess is kissing you again. it’s short but enough to have you at a loss of words, breath-taking.

your trying to regain your composure when he pulls away, his hand holding yours once more while leaning down to grip the basket he abandoned minutes before. “randall… god i hate that guy,” jess murmurs when you both begin to walk in a random direction, unsure where your walk will take you.

“me too. he said my sleeves should be a longer length the moment we caught a moment alone,” you complain, hands swinging between you both as jess scoffs, “insufferable idiot. i mean who hates your pasta? you make the best in town.”

“i know!” you reply, jess pecking you once more with his knowing smirk planted firmly on his face.

“and you look great. you always do.” you feel warm from the compliment, blood rushing to your face as you return with a small, “thank you.” jess turns away from you, walking you through the woods to find a good date spot where he can have a proper moment with you, a place he can keep you to himself for a little longer before returning to the chaos that is stars hollow.

jess squeezes your hand, “it’s good for me anyway, he lost his chances.” you weren’t used to jess being romantic, and you can tell from his lack of eye contact and blushed cheeks that he wasn’t either, but you smile before planting a kiss to his flushed cheek, “like he or anyone else had a chance from the moment you got here.”

my masterlist . my taglist

#— ꒰꒰ ➵ my works ｡˚ ꒱꒱#gilmore girls┊ ➶ ˚⊹ jess mariano ⊹#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano fanfic #jess mariano fanfiction #gilmore girls #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls fanfiction

701 notes · View notes

cafedanslanuit · 3 years

Text

♡ — pairing: kazutora x reader

♡ — summary: after a long day at work, you want nothing but to spend a calm night with your boyfriend. however, you have no idea this is the night were all his demons finally get the best of him.

♡ — tags/warnings: female reader, angst, breakups, hurt feelings everywhere, mention on mental illnesses and nightmares, based on ben platt’s song ‘carefully’, mention of tora’s job in one of the future timelines.

♡ — a/n: i enjoyed writing kazutora so. damn. much. also, i’m quite proud of this one and the small details i added~ thank you @ofoceansandtombstones for being my lovely beta <3

♡ — masterlist

And all this time you've had a gentle way of holding me

So could you please release me that way too?

— “carefully” by Ben Platt

“It’s open, come in!”

The first thing Kazutora sees when he opens the door of your apartment is you, kneeling on the kitchen floor and picking up pieces of a broken baking dish. Red sauce has splattered everywhere and his mind betrays him for a second, imagining an accident far worse than what has truly happened. He blinks twice and starts to notice the small details that finally slow down the fast beating of his heart. There are pieces of chicken breasts next to the open oven door and what he thinks are sliced carrots next to your right knee.

You hiss when you pick up a piece of the shattered glass, the sharp end pinching your finger. Kazutora comes back to his senses, widening his eyes as he realizes he’s just been standing there.

“Hey, let me. You’ll cut yourself,” he warns, walking up to you. Grabbing both your hands, he eases you into your feet and then guides you to the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” he promises as he goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess.

You let yourself fall on the sofa with a loud thud and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I just had the most awful day,” you whine, taking off your apron and leaving it on the arm of the sofa. “Work was hell, I got scolded by something that I didn’t do— like always, only this time my boss was all like: ‘You gotta be more careful, we wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable employee’. Like he was going to fire me over someone else’s mistake?!”

Your voice is getting louder by the minute and you take advantage of the fact Kazutora is in another room to keep the volume. You have been waiting the entire day to see him and vent about what a trainwreck you day had been. Just as always, he listens intently, the only noise coming from the kitchen being a soft scraping sound as he picks up everything and throws it to the trash.

“Then, I went to the store and of course they had run out of basil. Tell me, how does a store that big run out of basil?” you ask. There’s no answer from the kitchen so you continue. “I mean, yeah, I could have gone to another store but my feet were killing me. I’m just not meant to work in heels the entire day,” you sigh tiredly, swinging your feet.

You reposition yourself, now sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Putting your right hand on your left shoulder, you stretch your neck, feeling your sore muscles releasing a bit of tension with a small ‘pop’.

“I ended up preparing something entirely different than I had planned for dinner. I tried to let it go but just as I was going to put it in the oven, it slipped my hands and—”

“I think we should break up.”

Words die in your lips the moment you listen to your boyfriend speak. The silence becomes loud and abrasive as you struggle to understand what was happening. Why was Kazutora breaking up with you with such a small voice? What had triggered him to come to that conclusion? Why had he decided to bring it up now? You turn your head to the kitchen door and watch him slowly make his way towards you, doubtful steps as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

“What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. His lips form a tight line and you see him swallowing nervously.

“I’m not doing okay— haven’t been for a while. I— it’s been two years since I left prison and I still haven’t— I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explains, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, trying to comprehend where he’s coming from. Turning your body towards him, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s okay not to know,” you assure him in a soft voice. “Just… take it slow. One day at a time and then I’m sure you’ll—”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kazutora confesses and you notice his voice wavering a little. “I— I keep having nightmares about— about that day and— and also about the motorcycle shop. Those two mix up and…” he takes one of his hands to the side of his head, his fingers grazing his temple. “And I’m hitting Baji in the head. And there’s so much blood— so, so much blood and—”

Leaning forward, you take his hands. They’re shaking and extremely cold and you rub your thumb over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, Tora, you’re—”

Kazutora pulls his hands away hastily, leaving a tingling sensation on your palms.

“I can’t!” he says as he shakes his head. You spend a moment looking at your empty hands, never before having felt your boyfriend’s rejection. “I feel like I’m drowning and— You know what? I think relationships just aren’t for me,” he shrugs, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures. “That’s why I never cared for dating, never got myself involved in that kind of shit, not until—”

He finally looks at you and, fuck, you wish he didn’t. You’re not sure if you have the strength to deal with such hurtful discourse. You lick your lips and take yet another deep breath, deciding to ignore his hurtful remark.

“I’m… so sorry you’re feeling this way,” you say, slowing down your words, trying your best not to show how hurt you were. This isn’t him, you tell yourself. So no need for that tightness in your throat. “But you have to understand it’s not because of me. It’s because of everything that you’ve gone through and how hard it’s to deal with them. I don’t blame you, it is hard. But this… us,” you gesture to the both of you. “This is a good thing. Despite all the pain and hurt we’ve both been through, we—”

“Please, stop,” he says, raising his hand and pressing his eyelids together. “I can’t be with you anymore. That’s it, that’s all—”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” you counter. You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. Kazutora’s eyes shoot open and you notice his pupils shaking in fear, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I love you,” he breathes out, and for a moment you see the boy you fell in love with in his amber eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “I do love you but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m dying,” he chokes out. He looks away from you once more and starts tugging at his fingers. “I’m rotting inside and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I just want it to stop. I want it to stop and— I don’t want you around when I’m like this. I want to figure out what the hell is happening and—”

“But if you love me and I love you then why—”

“I’m not happy with you!”

Kazutora widens his eyes, scared by his loud outburst. He parts his lips, silently muttering nonsense as he tries to come up with words that can make it better. You lower your head and he wants to punch himself over it. He doesn’t want to make you cry, not after everything you’ve done for him. Is he really going to be the person that hurt the one that made a home for him in her embrace? Is he going to hurt the only person that was brave enough to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul?

“I’m…” he babbles, in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “No, you really did mean it, Tora.”

He can sense the hurt and sadness in your voice, even if now you’re the one that won’t look at him. He watches helplessly as you stand up and walk towards the living room window in complete silence. The apron you took off is still on the couch and the vast memories of all the times he embraced you while you were wearing it quickly fill his mind.

He wishes there was a way he could keep you. But no matter how much he wants to, he knows there really is no other way. He’s thought about this countless times. He has gone to work without getting proper sleep, stared at his blank tv screen for hours on end, trying to come up with a plan where he could keep you. Was staying with the person he loved the most too much to ask?

No matter in how many shades of light or with how much care he handled the memory of you, the only way he could spare you the greatest amount of pain was to leave you— even if he knew he’d end up shattering your heart as well.

Kazutora notices the way your fingers tightly close around the edge of the window, your knuckles turning white. He had come to terms that he’d lose you today, yet he never expected for it to be this way. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. If hating him would mend your wounds faster, then he’d take it. Anything that would make the heartache he was causing you a little bit lighter. He knew you were the last person on Earth that deserved to go to bed carrying that much pain in her soul.

Looking out the window, you focus on a small girl walking her dog on the street. It’s a brown labrador and by the size of it, it’s barely a puppy. Rather than walk, it jumps on its four legs, his little head looking back at the girl every chance he has as he happily wags his tail. The pet shop Kazutora and Chifuyu work at immediately comes to mind. Would it be like this from now on? Small things eliciting memories of your days together without your consent and leaving a sour taste in your mouth?

You will need to find a new commute, you think, as you had been stopping by the pet shop on your way home for the past year. Is there another bus that you could take? As you try to remember the lines and their respective routes, you’re engulfed by the memory of the first time Kazutora dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder as you rode the bus together. You close your eyes and you can clearly see his peaceful expression and slightly parted lips as he slept, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours. His breathing is slow and his hands are cold and you wish you could go back, even for a minute and place a kiss on top of his head, since you wouldn’t be able to do so from now on.

Where exactly had you failed? You had just been complaining about your day when he dropped the bomb. Did you complain too much? Did you talk too much? Or was it you the one that was too much? You tried your best and supported him as much as you could but as it turns out, it hadn’t been enough. Good intentions were nothing but useless as you were now saying goodbye to the man you had loved the most.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Kazutora’s cold knuckles against your cheek, wiping your tears. You gasp, startled by his touch and take a couple steps back until your back hits the wall. It takes a few seconds for him to bring his hand now, unsure on what to do next.

He looks so scared and small— it fills your heart with frustration. Your whole body is screaming to take a step forward and comfort him, cradle him in your arms like so many times before, assure him he’s safe with you and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. That, if you can still go home to each other at the end of a bad day, you can take anything life throws at you.

But that’s the thing. You’re not each other’s home anymore. You don’t get to bury your face in his neck and hum happily when his perfume reaches your nose. You don’t get to have him take a nap on your lap as you watch a series or feel his lips ghost against yours seconds before colliding in a kiss.

You hate it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “Please, don’t cry.”

“You know what, Kazutora?” you say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You taste venom in your words, yet that doesn’t stop you. “If you’re not happy with me, then what are you doing here?”

He flinches at your words. Biting his inner cheek, he nods, still incapable of holding your gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “I’ll go. I really am sorry.”

Kazutora turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Maybe it’s the way you know he’s not coming back this time that makes your desperation afloat. You don’t want him to go and you also know you can’t make him stay. And even if somehow you could find a way to keep him by your side, it would be worthless.

He’s just not happy with you.

“Are you happy somewhere else, though?” you ask, your words leaving your mouth before your head has time to process them. He stumbles on his feet and stops. “Because if you just can’t manage to be happy, then it’s not on me.”

Kazutora doesn’t have to turn for you to know he’s second guessing himself. The next seconds feel like years as he just stands there, mid-way to the front door, thoughts so messy and loud you can almost hear them.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says with his back to you. He closes his fists and you see his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “This way you don’t have to deal with... with the mess I am and—”

“Oh, please, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an ex-convict.”

The weight of your words fall onto you the moment they leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse. It takes no time for you to walk towards Kazutora, standing between him and the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tora, I didn’t— you know I didn’t mean it that way. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you whimper, tears flowing free down your cheeks. Your wave your shaky hands, desperate to make your point across. “I just wanted to say I knew things would be difficult but I loved you— I love you and I—”

Kazutora shakes his head, a gentle yet sad smile on his face as he takes your hands in his. He holds them in front of his chest, squeezing them gently as they don’t stop trembling.

“Stop, it’s okay,” he assures you. “That’s what I am.”

“It’s not,” you protest. “I mean— yeah, but you’re more than that. You’re so much more than that. You’re caring, you’re noble— you’re so tender with the animals at your shop. You’re so sweet with me, always checking if I’ve eaten and offering to help me out if I have chores I need to do. You always come pick me up if I’m working late. You— you’re so fucking special to me.”

Kazutora’s lips form a tight line. “I wish I could see that,” he whispers.

“Then just— let me try. Let me try until you can look at yourself the way I do,” you almost beg. You let go of the hold he has on your hands to gently cradle his face. “I’ll do anything, but... don’t patronize me. I’m not a little girl. Whatever life throws at me, I’ve always been able to handle it. No— we’ll handle it. Together. Like it’s always been, you and me, I just— please, I don’t want you to go,” you cry. “We were going to be happy together, you were going to live with me and I’d give you half my drawers and half my closet and half… half everything. Please, don’t go. Don’t go, Tora.”

The sadness in his amber eyes only confirms what you’ve been fearing this whole time. You sob, your thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as you feel the world crumbling around you. This time, he doesn’t stop you, letting you cry as you hold his face, coming to terms with the fact he’s really leaving after all.

Your hands move to his hair, gently threading your fingers across his long, dark locks. Tracing the outline of his face, you push one of the dyed streaks away, only for it to fall back right where it was before. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. He’s so pretty, you think, as the pads of your fingers gently caress his face. Your thumb grazes the space between his bottom lip and his chin and you dream of a world when he’s not saying goodbye, but rather falling asleep under your touch on your shared bed. You never knew loving someone as much as you loved him was possible-- yet the way your heart was crumbling in pieces was evidence of how much your soul was aching by being separated from the person it belonged to.

Sniffling, you rub your cheek against your shoulder to wipe your tears. You swallow before raising another question.

“Is this a… temporary thing? Or for good?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as you place down your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He wants nothing more than to put his arms around your body like so many times before, but he’s aware that it will only make things more difficult. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting in vain. You should move on.”

Kazutora realizes how much he hates the idea as it leaves his lips. The idea of you starting over with someone else rots in his tongue. He doesn’t want you to hold anyone’s face the way you were just holding his. He wants to keep you all to himself, to go to endless visits to the grocery shop, to watch you fall asleep during movie night and then pretend you didn’t, to massage your hands as you tell him about his day.

But you don’t deserve the guck that’s forming inside his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes out pouring and reaches you. And he’ll be damned if he lets himself ruin the one good thing he’s had in his life for many years. He promised to himself he wouldn’t let his ill state of mind touch his loved ones. Never again.

He watches you nod and feels his heart shattering, even if everything is going just the way he intended. You rub his shoulders and look into his eyes, a sad smile on the pretty lips he would never get to kiss again.

“Okay,” you sigh. “We’ll end this but… when you leave, never doubt how loved you were. No— how loved you are. I don’t know what is coming for either of us but… I do know a part of my heart will always belong to you, no matter who I hold hands with. I will always love you, Tora.”

Your words are enough to finally break him. Kazutora clutches your body tightly against him as he loudly sobs against your shoulder. You hold him, tears flowing free once again as you try and soothe the man you love, leaving small kisses on the side of his head and whispering soft reassurances that it’s okay. It’s not, you tell yourself. It’s never going to be okay. But it has to be.

Carefully, you move him back to the sofa, helping him sit down while he refuses to let go of his hold on your body. You lean on the back pillows, both your arms cradling him while he whimpers like a small child. Kazutora clutches the fabric of your sweater with desperation, wishing there was a way he could stay with you.

Why does he have to give up the person that had put a smile back on his face? He can’t quite remember a time when his stomach had hurt out of laughter before he ever met you. Or when he’d experienced such peace as the night he stayed at your apartment and got to see your sleeping face first thing in the morning. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and, for all he knows, he may never love like this again.

But he could never risk tainting you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Kazutora softly pulls away from your embrace. His eyes are blotchy and red and you’re sure yours look the same or even worse. His nose is red, like it always does when he cries. It’s endearing, you think. Everything about him, from his hair, to his eyes, his hands— you’ve come to love every part of Kazutora. And that’s exactly why it’s so hard to let him go.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a whisper, resting the side of his head on the back pillows of the sofa.

“Like what?” you ask, gently pushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Like I matter to you. Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

You take a deep breath. Imitating him, you rest your head on the back pillows as well, so you’re both facing each other.

“I don’t— I don’t fully understand what you’re going through,” you admit, your eyes locked on his. “But if you need to… get away, then you should. You’ve been nothing but loving to me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether it’s with me or not. You deserve to fully experience all the beautiful things life has to offer.”

Silent tears fall from both your cheeks and his.

“I should be thankful I got to love you for this whole year. Because even if it ends this way… God, I loved you so much,” you sniffle, letting out a small laugh. “And I felt so loved. Isn’t that magical in itself? That we got to love each other at the same time?” you wonder with a sad smile.

Kazutora parts his lips, yet the doorbell interrupts him before he can even speak. You look at the front door, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment before you realize who’s probably there.

“Food’s here,” you say, wiping the tears from your face.

“Food?” Kazutora asks, confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Didn’t I tell you? The baking dish broke so I called that restaurant, the one with the burgers we like.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t really listening back then,” he admits with a pang of guilt. He sits up on the couch and turns his head at you. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You sit up as well. “I ordered for the two of us. C’mon, stay for dinner. Let’s… remember us this way, okay? Without so many tears and sadness,” you offer, tilting your head towards him. “I even ordered your favourite one.”

Kazutora rubs his face with his sleeve, erasing the trail of the tears he just shed. Looking at you, he nods, drawing a small smile on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

He only walks a few steps towards the door before he feels you tugging at the back of his shirt. Turning around, he notices you’re standing right behind him. Your eyes look up to him, biting your bottom lip and not even a ghost of the smile you previously offered him.

“Before that, uh— I want you to know I… I mean it,” you firmly say, taking in all his facial features, loving how they soften every time he looks at you. “I’ll always love you. No matter how many years go by or if I ever stop being in love with you— I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You finally let out a soft chuckle and squeeze his hand back. The doorbell rings again and you walk around Kazutora to get to it. This time, he’s the one that stops you, not letting go of the hold of your hand. Looking back at him, you notice the soft pout in his lips and how they softly tremble, looming more tears.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you know you’re saying it to yourself as well. “Who knows, we might get together again someday. Have our own Casablanca moment. We’ll always have the pet shop,” you joke, trying to fight back to tears that threaten to fill your eyes as well.

It’s Kazutora’s turn to chuckle, only this time he does it along with you. You let go of his hand only to hold his face tenderly, a soft smile as you look at the man you love. Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against the beauty mark under his right eye. You feel his hands setting on the small of your back and watch his smile widen when you fall back on your heels.

Locking your fingers with him once more, you open the door.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #kazutora x reader #hanemiya kazutora x reader #kazutora hanemiya x reader #kazutora hanemiya #hanemiya kazutora #tokyo revengers #kazutora angst #tokyo revengers angst #kazutora x you #kazutora x y/n #hanemiya kazutora x you #hanemiya kazutora x y/n

986 notes · View notes

kkodzvken · 3 years

Text

take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader

tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)

a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun

wc: 3.9k

Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.

It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.

You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you.

He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor.

It was always some excuse or another.

So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age.

You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric.

Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy.

This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.

So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.

You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.

Their familiar voice.

Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”

He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”

You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…

What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.

“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”

His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.

He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.

Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.

“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.

“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”

“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.

“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”

“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.

The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”

You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”

You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.

You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.

“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”

Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”

You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.

Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.

Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.

“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”

“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.

But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.

But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess –”

“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”

A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.

You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”

“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.

Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”

“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”

“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”

“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.

“Why are you settling?”

“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”

“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”

The wave crests.

You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.

“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.

Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?

He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”

Oh.

You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.

But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.

He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.

You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.

You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.

“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”

He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.

He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.

You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”

“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”

You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.

You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”

You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”

“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”

1K notes · View notes

silversatoru · 3 years

Note

Can i regurst a gojo x reader smut where y/n is gojo’s ex girlfriend and also a strong jujutsu sorcerer and they get back together asdfghjkl 🥺😂? Tyy 🥺

hehhee yes ma’am here u are!!! i actually loved writing this one (i think i just have a thing for writing gojo lately lmao) anyway! i! hope! you! enjoy!

to heaven and back

gojo satoru x f! sorcerer!reader

synopsis: you and your ex, gojo satoru, beat the hell out of a few special grade curses and then head back to his house to rekindle an old (and kind of kinky) flame

tags/warnings: nsfw (18+), smut, handcuffs, blindfolding, little bit of oral sex, teasing, alcohol consumption, some fluff at the end? just a little

word count: 3.1k

You lifted your elegant glass of random wine that you could care less about knowing the name of, and took a long sip. All of these old rich bastards talked way too much about brand names, aging, and what cheese paired well with each wine. They were missing what was really important — which one would get you drunk the quickest.

These kinds of formal events weren’t really your scene, and having to listen to a bunch of old, conservative, high-up jujutsu leaders was terribly boring — so why not take this opportunity to get a little tipsy? You deserved it for putting up with all of these assholes. After all, the only reason they invited you to this prestigious event was for protection. If that pesky band of special grade curses caught wind that all of the higher ups from both Kyoto and Tokyo were in the same place, they were sure to launch some kind of attack. The old, wrinkly douchebags couldn’t care less about your opinions of the jujutsu world and how you would change it, they only liked you for incredible cursed technique.

And so here you were, spitefully wearing your most elegant dress and downing glasses of wine in an attempt to drown out all of the nonsense around you. There was only one thing that could make this event any worse and—

“Hello everyone! The strongest jujutsu sorcerer has arrived — I know you were all looking forward to my appearance”.

And there it was. There was that one thing that could make this event any worse. Gojo Satoru.

You dipped your head low, burying yourself in your glass of wine and praying to any god who would listen to not let this man see you. It’s been over two years since the two of you broke up, but he still wasn’t someone you enjoyed running into.

Gojo was terribly notorious for having a long line of girls at his disposal, and with his incredible strength and annoyingly good-looks, it wasn’t hard to understand why. The two of you had never been in an officially committed relationship, and so technically Gojo was free to do as he pleased — but you were practically dating and your heart ached every time you caught wind of him being with another woman. And so two years ago you cut things off with him for good — you were tired of being the one he always ran back to at the end of the day.

He’d looked at you with eyes full of pain that night, begging and pleading to stay with him. He showed you a vulnerable side to him that you had never seen before — and he swore to you that if you had asked to make things official, he would have committed himself to you fully. You declined however, because you felt like you shouldn’t have needed to ask for that kind of thing — but maybe that was just your ego getting in the way.

“Hey, beautiful, I’ve never seen you around before, you must be from the Tokyo campus,” Some random assistant casually leaned against the counter you were sitting at and shook you out of your thoughts.

“If you’ve never seen me before then you must not be very important,” You shot him a distasteful glance, taking another sip of your wine.

The man’s face lit up with panic — he must not have been expecting such retaliation to his pathetic attempt of flirting.

“Are you bothering her?” A familiar voice came from behind you — a long, slender hand slapping down onto your shoulder, “Please don’t flirt with my wife”.

“Ah- Wife? I’m so sorry, sir,” The man stumbled over his words, bowing his head to Gojo and scurrying away.

Gojo wasted no time sliding into the seat next to you and pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle you’d already been working on.

“Really? You’re telling people I’m your wife now?” You gave him a deadpanned look.

“It worked, didn’t it?” He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip from his glass.

You rolled your eyes hard, “Why are you here, Satoru?”

“Same reason as you. The old, conservative pussies are afraid those special grades might attack — so why not invite their two prized sorcerers to protect them?”

“Fair,” You let out a heavy sigh, “Not sure that was their best move though — I don’t think either one of us is very motivated to save these fuckers”.

“No, but I brought my students with me today. So, if anything does happen, make sure you put on a show for them,” He winked, already topping off his wine glass.

You looked over to see a few kids sitting a couple tables away from the two of you, chatting amongst themselves and wondering why the fuck they had to be here.

And so an hour or two went by, and to your surprise, you found yourself laughing hysterically alongside Gojo. The two of you had definitely drank a bit too much, and your personalities complimented each other a little too perfectly. You shared the same terrible sense of humor and he had quite the knack for bringing out this lighthearted side of you. You had missed moments like this these past two years.

Neither of you were paying any attention to the current debate that was occurring between the higher ups when a loud crash sent broken pieces of glass flying through the grand hall. Sure enough, the curses had made their appearance and came flying into the building through a now broken window.

“It’s our time to shine, huh?” Gojo looked over at you, and you imagined that his icy blue eyes were swirling with excitement under that mask.

“Yeah, let’s make this quick,” You found a warm ball of excitement churning in your own stomach — it’d been a long time since the two of you had fought together.

Your technique revolved around the manipulation of cursed energy and converting it into light. You could wrap yourself in a shield of light, send curse-filled bursts of light at your enemies, and move at the speed of light as well — which was almost as efficient as Gojo’s teleportation abilities. You had a series of more advanced moves as well, but those required more energy output and therefore you used them a little less often.

The two of you were both able to move so fast that the curses really didn’t stand a chance. You found yourself laughing as you flipped through the air, hurling balls of light at the curses as Gojo worked closer in hand-to-hand combat. At one point, while the two of you were flying past each other, Gojo stuck out his hand and gave you a high five, both of you smiling like maniacs who enjoyed fighting a little too much.

Between Gojo’s Limitless and your extreme agility and bursts of light, the curses were quickly forced to flee. Both of you were feeling much too drunk and much too lazy to chase after them, even with all of the higher ups begging you to do so. Gojo simply flipped them off and stuck out his tongue, saying that he did what they paid him to do — keep the curses away — and now that the curses had been scared off, he was no longer needed.

“You want to come back with me, relieve more of our old memories together? I remember how much you loved sleeping in my king sized bed,” Gojo looked back at you, offering one of his large, slender hands.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was your stupid, stupid heart, but you reached out and took his hand, “Fuck it, let’s go”.

Gojo’s house on the outskirts of the Tokyo campus was just as you remembered — sleek black interior with modern furniture and extravagantly silky sheets on his bed — his same bed that you were currently sprawled out on, laying in nothing but your undergarments.

Gojo joined you a couple minutes later, his bare skin warm and familiar against yours. He pressed a few sloppy kisses to your lips, both of you still incredibly tipsy and unable to stop the small giggles from leaking out between your lips while you kissed.

“Take the blind fold off you weirdo,” You pulled at the back of the black fabric.

“Mmm, okay,” He mumbled, undoing the knot and exposing his piercing blue eyes.

“So pretty,” You murmured under your breath — his eyes really were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your life

His fluffy silver hair fell down messily over his face, a drunken smile stretched across his lips. His smile quickly turned into a devilish grin as he slipped the mask over your eyes instead, tying a tight not at the back of your head.

“This isn’t what I meant,” You droned, but you didn’t argue — you certainly weren’t opposed to being blindfolded.

“It looks good on you,” He slurred, his words messy and his lips even messier as he pressed them back against yours.

The kisses seemed to last forever, and both of you were perfectly okay with that — your hands taking their time exploring each other’s bodies for the first time in far too long.

Gojo’s hands worked their way up your back, tracing lines along your toned muscles until he finally reached the nape of your neck. His fingers entangled themselves in your hair, soft hums coming from his lips.

“I still have handcuffs, if you’re still into that sort of thing,” he mused, massaging his fingertips into your scalp.

“Damn, I can’t believe you remember what I like. I thought my preferences would have gotten lost among the sea of other women you were pleasing,” You let the snarky remark roll off your tongue, though there was clearly no real spite in your words — you’re both adults and what happened then was in the past now.

“It wasn’t even that many,” He defended, “And you were the only one who ever mattered”.

“I’m flattered,” You laughed, “Now, where are those handcuffs?”

Gojo stifled a deep laugh, his hands leaving your hair as he lifted himself up and stood from the bed. When he returned a few moments later, there was cool metal wrapping around both of your wrists. He had two sets of handcuffs, putting one on each wrist and then hooking the other side to the bed posts.

You were entirely at his disposal now, your hands secured over your head and your vision blocked off by the black mask.

“I could tickle you right now and there’s nothing you could do,” Gojo observed aloud, pressing kisses up the side of your torso.

“Satoru, I would kick the living shit out of you,” You threaten, goosebumps growing under your skin.

“Yeah, but you can’t touch me unless I let you,” He retaliated, his soft hands reaching underneath your bra to feel your breasts.

You groaned in response — his Limitless really did make him impossible.

He cupped each of his hands around your firm lumps, gently massaging them between his fingers. His cool fingertips then made their way down to your lower body, swiftly removing your remaining underwear. You were now completely exposed to him, chills running down your spine as you wondered what he would do next.

You heard a shaky breath leave his lips, his hungry hands massaging circles into your thighs, “God, you’re so beautiful. I missed you so much, you know that?”

“I’m sure you did,” You breathed, “I’m a wonderful person to be around”.

Gojo let out a hearty laugh, and you heard what you assumed to be the sound of his own underwear getting thrown to the floor. A few seconds later he was straddling your torso, his warm thighs wrapped around your body. You couldn’t see it, but you knew his massive member had to be right in front of your face now.

“Remind me what that pretty mouth can do,” He cooed, pressing the tip of his length gently to your lips.

You graciously granted him access, parting your lips and taking the head of his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip, earning a few twitches from Gojo’s body. You began to bob your head back and forth as much as the handcuffs allowed, a few quiet moans leaving his throat in response.

He began to move his hips against you, gingerly pushing his member deeper and deeper into your mouth until you were taking the full length down your throat. He groaned and let a few curse words slide from between his teeth — your mouth was wrapped so perfectly around him. Tears pricked at your eyes and a couple rough gags ripped through your throat, Gojo finally pulling away and allowing you to catch your breath.

After that, you felt a single one of his long, slim fingers slide into your mouth, and you wasted no time wrapping it in your tongue and sucking hard.

“Good girl,” He murmured, plucking his finger back out of your mouth and moving it down to your aching entrance.

Between the saliva on his finger and the slick juices around your opening — his finger slid in effortlessly. He started moving in quick movements, curling his finger up into your g-spot each time. A few light moans left your lips, your fists clenching in the cuffs as your yearned for more. His finger felt good, but you wanted the real thing — you needed it.

“Satoru, please,” You practically whined his name, a tiny bit ashamed for how desperate you were for him right now.

“Patience, love,” He clicked his tongue and your heart did somersaults at the endearing name.

He removed his singular finger and intertwined it with a second one before sliding them back into your cavern. He picked up a steady pace again, your breath hitching in your throat. Two fingers was certainly better than one, but the continuous teasing was just making you even more desperate to feel his member inside of you. You mumbled his name over and over, small pleads and shameless whispers leaving your mouth as you bucked your hips against his hands.

“No ones fucked you as good as I used to, have they? You’re horribly desperate right now” He clicked his tongue again, removing his fingers and moving them up to your clit. He rubbed the smallest, softest circles against the small nub, your core growing warmer with desire.

“I won’t make you wait any longer then,” He whispered, sitting back and positioning the head of his length against your throbbing cunt.

“Please,” You mumbled fervently, any ego or pride that you once had was completely down the drain now.

Your pleads were finally rewarded, Gojo pressing himself deep into your tight walls. The immediate feeling was complete bliss, your head rolling back in pleasure as you heard a throaty moan creep it’s way out of Gojo’s mouth. His moans were so pretty — god, you’d missed the sound of them.

He moved in and out at a tantalizingly slow pace at first, your hips bucking and wiggling as you made fervent attempts to make him go faster.

“So eager…” He shook his head, continuing to move at a pace that was absolutely agonizing — you thought you might die if he didn’t rail the hell out of you soon.

“Please, fuck,” You gasped, “Stop moving so goddamn slowly”.

“Your whines are so pretty, baby. Say my name and maybe I’ll give you what you want,” He murmured, his voice low and husky.

“Fucking hell,” You gritted your teeth, “Please Satoru, please fuck me already”.

“Shit,” He mumbled under his breath, your words sending electricity coursing through his body.

After hearing you say that, he was quick to give you what you wanted, picking up his pace and wrapping his hands firmly around your hips. Strangled combinations of moans, whimpers, and cries filled the air as they flew from your mouth. You didn’t care how loud or desperate you sounded, you wanted him to know how good he was making you feel.

The two of you were an entangled mess of sweaty skin and throaty moans, Gojo filling your ears with praises and compliments the entire time. His lengthy member railed into you over and over, hitting that perfect pleasure point with each stroke and sending warm surges of ecstasy through your veins.

Your bodies moved together in sync, your breaths aligning and your climaxes threatening to arrive simultaneously. After a few more firm strokes, you felt yourself drowning in pleasure — euphoria crashing through your body like waves. Gojo reached his end point just a few moments later, his loud cuss words and strangled moans filling your ears.

The two of you rode out your orgasms together, and almost immediately afterwards Gojo collapsed next to you. He lazily reached up and uncuffed each of your hands, leaving the cuffs dangling from his bed posts just in case there was a round two in his future. He rolled the sticky condom off his member and tossed into a nearby trash bin, a relaxed sigh slipping between his parted lips. You peeled the black mask off of your eyes, finally able to meet his again.

He was staring at you with eyes filled with all kinds of emotions — the emotions that he’d been too afraid to admit to the first time the two of you were together. But he wasn’t afraid of commitment anymore, he was absolutely certain about what he wanted, and it was you.

“Stay with me,” He asked, his eyes pleading with you, “I’m ready this time, I promise. I’m all yours, if you’ll have me”.

You found a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you looked deeper into his eyes, “Of course I’ll stay, as long as you still feel this way when you wake up sober tomorrow”.

“I’ll feel this way forever,” He pressed his head into you and mumbled into your chest, “And I’ll remind you as many times as you need to hear it”.

You wrapped your arms around him in response, the two of you fitting impeccably together. He placed a few gentle kisses to your skin before his breathes began to slow. You found your own breathing to be evening out, your cloudy thoughts pushing you closer and closer to sleep. The two of you slowly drifted off together, your heavy breaths falling perfectly in sync.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsukaisen #gojo satoru smut #gojo #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru smut #smut #smut and fluff #jjk gojo #jjk smut

1K notes · View notes

frenchbreads-writing · 3 years

Note

how do you think enji and iida (separately ofc) would react to reader giving them a lil rock they found?

Here’s part 1 of this little rock request I’ll post the second part w Enji one whenever I write it

I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Iida Tenya x Male Reader

Words: 657

Warning(s): None

Requests: Closed

You were sleeping peacefully in your bed.

It was the weekend and training had been tough that week so you took the chance to sleep in late.

But not all things go according to plan.

Suddenly you were woken up by someone shaking you.

“Hm?”

You barely opened your eye when you were picked up and set into your feet, extremely confused as to what was happening.

You looked around with your bleary eyes and saw Tenya.

He was saying something, doing his usual air chopping and digging into your drawers but with your sleep-muddled brain, you didn’t understand any of what he said.

The only thing you could make out was to get ready.

You were ushered out of your room, downstairs, and into the boys’ dorm bathrooms to get ready by Tenya.

You didn’t understand what was going on and just did what you were told still half asleep and dosing off every couple of seconds.

You only really snapped out of your sleep-deprived haze when you stepped outside.

Tenya had dragged you into yet another early morning jog.

You turned to Tenya who was doing stretches.

“Tenyaaa it’s too early for this, I just want to sleep.”

He straightened up.

“Nonsense, it’s important to not slack off from doing your daily exercise!”

You groaned knowing there’s nothing you could say that’ll stop him from dragging you out.

“Now, (Y/n) no more complaining, come on we’ll start off easy with a mile!”

He took your hand in his and began dragging you along with him as he started running.

An hour had gone by full of just running, well for Tenya at least.

The hour for you was filled with slow jogging and getting passed by Tenya several times.

You were slumped against a nearby bench groaning from how tired you were.

“Tenya can we go back now?”

He looked at your pouting face and sighed.

“I suppose we can end early, but that means we will have to train extra hard to make up for it.”

You cheered just ready to go back and take the world’s longest nap.

“Just let me go get us something to drink it’s important to stay hydrated after all.”

You gave him a thumbs up in response.

Tenya stood at the nearby vending machine holding his can of orange juice rubbing his chin and debating on what to get for you.

“I should’ve asked him what he wanted before I left.”

He was about to press the button on the machine when your voice called out to him.

“Tenya!”

Said boy jumped and spun around seeing you running towards him.

You never run willingly so something must be wrong.

Tenya immediately revved his engines and met you halfway, skidding to a stop just before you and placing his hands on your shoulders.

“What’s wrong, are you okay, are you hurt?!”

“Look!”

He watched as you brought your hands up they were cupping something.

You opened your hands and he saw a silver palm-sized stone.

It was smooth and slightly glossy.

“It reminded me of you so I picked it up and wanted to give it to you, here!”

You placed the stone in his hands.

He stared at the stone lying in his palm and felt touched that you thought of him, even if it was something as silly as a rock.

“As touching as this sentiment is, I was worried about you I thought you were hurt!”

You just laughed as he began ranting, air chopping, and robotic movements as he went on about how unsanitary it was to pick up a rock off the ground without washing it first.

“Now, come let’s go back and get cleaned up.”

He took your hand in his and began dragging you once again back towards the dorms.

But what you couldn’t see was the pink tint on his cheeks and the way he slipped the rock into his pocket.

{Tag list}

If you want to be added to the tag list, send an ask or look at my pinned post!

@miilk-exe @your-strangelove @yumeneji @kaiwai @tamakiwithcrab @delightfulcupquakequeen @brithedemonspawn @chatnoirfangirl1624 @cannedfoodisbestfood @softboy5393 @kiwi-lynx @rokkyy @psychochanger @dilucs-cum-sock <- Sorry anyone who isn’t tagged properly but I wasn’t able to tag you!

717 notes · View notes

ahtsumu · 3 years

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

1K notes · View notes

laylaswriting · 2 years

Text

Bloodstream Chapter V - Blades

MASTERPOST | Ao3 | Wattpad Title: Bloodstream Chapter V - Blades Pairing: Killian Jones x fem!reader Word count: 1.9k Warnings: implied sexual tensionnn Tags: fluff, pining, drama, adventure, denying your crush until the last possible second Synopsis: Yo ho ho it's a pirate's life for me but with pining for sexy captain man. 😩 A/N: As always I just hope y'all enjoy my self indulgent nonsense. ❤

The next morning the air seemed different on the ship. In the morning she presented her knot to Mr. Smee who seemed very pleased with the result and patted her on the shoulder. The other crew members also looked at her a bit differently. Not pity, not hate, not contempt, they looked at her like they looked at any other person on the ship. It seems like all she needed to do is stand up for herself.

The knot was just the beginning – after that they taught her all kinds of useful things that would help her to survive as a pirate. How to handle things on the ship, navigate by the stars, and lately – fighting. There was a young man on the ship called James, he probably was only a few years older than her. He taught her how to fight with a sword in the past days.

“Okay, like we practiced.” He adjusted his position, stepped forward with his right foot and held out his sword with his right hand, balancing his weight with the other. She matched the position, right leg slightly forward, knees slightly bent, the sword comfortably sitting in her hand. She couldn’t help but smirk, she had to admit she enjoyed the fencing more than she ever thought she would. She nodded her head and James mirrored her gesture, and after a quick second he struck with his sword, which she quickly blocked. Learning fencing was almost like learning to dance – you had to be in sync with your partner in dancing, your movements were also dependent on theirs. In fencing, you didn’t work as a team – but your opponent’s next step was the most important thing in the world, and if you were not in sync with it, you could die.

She attacked him this time, quickly turned with her sword and struck at his waist, but he blocked her sword immediately, and now it was his turn. This went back and forth, dodging, striking, dodging, striking. They both jumped, crouched, twirled and the sound of the clashing swords filled the air. Some of the crew members would stop and watch for a second before going on with their day. Although (Y/N) didn’t notice, Hook’s eyes were on the two of them the whole time.

While James enjoyed their little fight, he decided it’s time to step up his game. At the next turn when she attacked him, he dodged the attack with a nimble move and spun around with his blade, not even giving time for (Y/N) to process the events before his blade landed at her throat, lingering there like a silent statement of his triumph. He stood close to her, only the blade and a few inches between them. A wide smile decorated his face while he was panting, and she mirrored his expression. She chuckled and looked at the sword.

“Don’t get too cocky, or next time I won’t stop like you did now!” She teased as he removed his sword from her throat.

“You have a long way to go until then, little man!” James said and put his hand on her shoulder before setting his sword aside and wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. (Y/N) was panting, still standing in her place, not seeing a reason to move just yet. A sudden clinking sound snapped her out of the adrenaline haze as she looked to the direction of the sound.

Her sword was hanging from her hand, but now crossed by another. She didn’t have to look up to know whose it was – the all-leather clothing and his familiar scent already gave it away. She slowly raised her head to look into his eyes, a huge grin on his face as he raised his eyebrows.

“An ambitious lad, are you not? Thinking you can beat the second-best swordsman on this ship?” He asked the rhetorical question, circling around her like a vulture. He wasn’t wearing his long leather coat this time – his red vest was beaming above his slightly untied black shirt.

“Second-best?” She asked, dumbfounded by his presence, not realizing what he meant by that.

“But of course.” He stopped his circling and faced her, stepping forward with his right foot, lifting his sword into the air. “I am the best.” He said and without hesitation struck forward in her direction, she barely had time to snap out of her haze before she had to block his strike. But luckily she did, although a bit clumsily, which made him chuckle.

“Focus.” He said accompanied by a chuckle. Fighting with him was different than with James. While James was teaching her, his moves were calculated, calm and collected. The Captain’s on the other hand – they were stronger, more passionate. He didn’t want to hurt her, that was clear, but he definitely had a lot of fun by making her struggle against his blade. The metallic sound of the swords clashing filled the air and this time everyone was watching. She found her own tactics shift too, she had to fight in a different way than she was taught. She always had to think with her opponent’s head – the only problem was that she couldn’t read her opponent at all. Hook was a complete mystery to her – he was distant and close, warm and cold, cruel and merciful at the same time. She couldn’t put it into words – like a secret she had to keep. His eyes were piercing into hers through the whole battle, almost never looking away. She smiled as she leapt away from his strike and instead of turning and striking from the side, she struck from above, surprising the Captain. He held his sword up to block her strike, and she put all her strength into pushing his blade closer to his face.

“Not bad,” he said, slight struggle in his voice.

“That’s it? Not bad?” She kept pushing with all her force, her arms started to tremble. Smugness flashed across Hook’s features before he quickly let go of holding her sword up with his own and leaped out of its way, causing her to fall forward, while he grabbed one of her hands and spun her in front of himself, holding his sword to her neck. His hook gently held onto her left arm while his chest pushed against her back and his face was next to hers. Dangerously close.

“Fuck,” she breathed and closed her eyes. Her heart was bursting in her chest, every nerve in her body hyper-aware of her surroundings. His body pressing against her, his blade at her throat. She knew feeling this was wrong. But she just couldn’t help it.

“As I said”, he started then kept a short pause and looked at her. She felt his breath graze her ear and neck. “Not bad. You still have a lot to learn.” He let her go and she felt like she could finally breathe. “But you have potential.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She whispered and kept her gaze on her shoes to avoid eye contact with him. She was a sweating, panting mess standing in place without moving a muscle. James walked up to her to take the sword from her hand, and patted her back.

“You did great, he was merciless with you! Come, let’s get some rest before we continue.” He said and sat next to her on the railing of the ship. She calmed her erratic breathing while dangling her feet off the ship, above the mesmerizing blue ocean. Like his eyes. She quickly shook her head as if it would shake the thought out of her head. She turned back to look at the crew, some of them were tending to their duties, some of them were sitting around talking to each other. Hook was standing at the wheel, looking at her direction with a smug smile on his face.

She felt her head getting heavy, as tiredness washed over her like a tsunami.

“I should probably move before I fall into the ocean while I fall asleep.” She chuckled and moved her legs over and dropped her feet back onto the deck. James just nodded and let her go.

“We’ll continue tomorrow, then.”

She found her way under the deck and went into the kitchen to catch her breath. Ribs was in there, washing the ginormous pot that he prepares the food in.

“Are you alright, little man? You seem a bit worn down.”

“I’m alright, Ribs. I just had an intense swordfight with the best and the second-best swordsman on the ship.” She let out a shaky breath and sunk lower onto the small stool and threw her back against the wall.

“Ah, the Captain isn’t going easy on you, is he? Don’t worry, it won’t last forever.” He reassured her and she felt a strange feeling wash over her. She couldn’t explain it at that moment but deep down she knew – she wanted it to last forever. She just didn’t admit it to herself then.

“I’m sure it won’t.”

Silence fell over the two of them as she dozed off and Ribs cleaned the pot viciously. His looks were scary – tall, muscular, a big scar on his neck. But he was a gentle giant.

“Come, little man! Everyone is expected on the deck.” She blinked her eyes a few times before completely opening them, adjusting them to the light after her nap. She rubbed her neck to make the uncomfortable pain go away and wiped her face – the hot and steamy air of the kitchen made a few strands of hair stick to her skin. She followed Ribs to the deck where all the crew was gathered and looking towards the quarterdeck where Hook and Smee stood, looking down at the rest of them. Now she could allow to steal a few glances of the Captain as everyone was watching him speak. His hair, his blue eyes that were just as mesmerizing – if not more – than the ocean, his lips, his neck, his necklace as it dipped under his shirt…

“There’s a small island nearby. We will stop there for tonight. We’ll gather some resources and set sail again tomorrow!” He said, his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. An island?

“What type of island?” One of the men asked curiously.

“A small, as far as we know uninhabited island. We’ll mostly stop to gather some water and wood, maybe some food so we can proceed further on our journey.” Said Mr. Smee and the Captain just nodded silently next to him, looking at the crew. Before his eyes could match hers she averted her gaze. Her thoughts were racing a million miles per hour. Would they leave her there? Drop her off as a punishment for sneaking onto the ship? She didn’t hear what else they said before Hook started to shout orders around.

“Stop slacking, and get to work! Prepare to port!” He said and gestured around with his hook before he stood back behind the wheel. She nodded and started to prep the ship with the rest of the crew. She climbed onto the ropes and looked into the distance – she could see the island, a seemingly small one, full of trees and small hills, birds were flying around its shores. The salt air breezed past her, caressing her skin and its smell made her heart full. It reminded her of her home, the seaside town where she would go to the harbor every Sunday to buy fresh produce from the traders who just arrived with their giant ships. It also reminded her of a feeling – the infinite water around her, the ship rocking under her, chatter and the cries of the seagulls filling the air – she felt free like never before. She jumped down onto the deck, a newfound joy bursting in her heart. She felt free.

#killian jones #captain hook #killian #jones #captain #captaincy #ouat #x reader #killian jones x reader #captain hook x reader #ouat x reader #fanfic #xd #killian jones ff #fluff #fanfiction #once upon a time #imagine

81 notes · View notes

forhereyesonlyyy · 3 years

Text

love call. // iz*one, kcw. // one-shot.

in which missing your hardworking girlfriend causes you to do ungodly things, like staying up until two in the morning to drag her out for a late night date.

word count: 2.2k

author's note: chaewon on the brain all day 🥰 this is just something short and sweet for all my fellow chaewon thinkers 😩☝️ i wish to see her on a stage again 🥺

tags: fluff, wlw, established relationship, goofy, is it obvious i'm running out of things to say here.

warnings: none.

Perhaps your friends were right when they said that your girlfriend was the only person that could get you to act right because if she were around you right at this moment, you wouldn't be walking around the empty streets at two in the morning wearing shorts and a simple jacket. But you couldn't sleep to save your life, and you were getting tired just pacing around your room. Besides, what's a better plan than to take a short stroll around the neighborhood?

You could have probably watched another Netflix movie or played until your eyes started burning, but contrary to popular belief, you actually wanted to live beyond your 40s. It's not like walking around in the dark with absolutely no regard for what might be watching in the shadows was any safer, but at least you were having fun!

The city was practically dead anyway. Not even cars were seen driving around the streets. It truly felt like you were the only person in the world, and you loved that feeling. But it would have been more lovely if your girlfriend was with you.

Being an idol sure is demanding. I hope she's taking care of herself.

As if she could hear your thoughts from the other side of the city, your phone starts ringing and the special ringtone you set up just for when she calls or texts you starts filling the air. You immediately pulled out your phone and grinned when you saw her contact name on the screen.

You eagerly pressed the green button and put the phone against your ear, "Hi, beautiful."

Kim Chaewon laughs from the other line and you could feel your heart growing twice its size. Oh, how you longed to hear her laugh in person instead of through your phone. IZ*ONE has been busy with their Japanese promotions and they only got to go home a month ago, even then they had to attend a lot more activities. They had no time for rest, or to have a nice day off. It was the main reason why you have been so very worried about your girlfriend.

"I knew you'd be awake. Can't sleep?" Chaewon asks. You could hear her grunt, she was probably getting ready to sleep. While you appreciated her checking up on you at this ungodly hour, you wished that she just went straight to sleep. God knows how long of a day she probably had.

"As always. What's your excuse?" You jog across the street, your eyes fixed on the glowing sign of a cafè. Now you were fully aware of how you just stumbled into a street full of stores that are open until after midnight, and you have never been more thankful for bringing your wallet with you.

"Not to sound like I'm in love with you but," Chaewon pauses, and you could almost see her biting her bottom lip out of both nervousness and enthusiasm. "I was missing you— have been missing you. A lot. Too much, maybe?" Chaewon laughs at herself, and then mutters some nonsense that you couldn't decipher because her words made you stop on your tracks and tear up just a little.

Maybe you were too sensitive, or too dramatic, but you couldn't even put how much you missed her into words. For the months she was gone, you lost count of how many times you wished she would just come back to you. Perhaps you really were too attached, because at some point, you were in over your head at the thought of Chaewon realizing that romance did not have a place in her life as a rising star.

It was your biggest fear, getting abandoned by the person you love the most. Before Chaewon became your girlfriend, she was your most precious childhood friend. There was not a time in your life where she was never there for you, and you truly belived that your friendship would go on for the rest of your life.

You realized that your feelings for Chaewon was more than what a normal person would feel for their best friend when you entered your new high school together. She was just... glowing when you both attended the entrance ceremony, and you vividly remember how she gently took your hand in hers and promised that she'll do her best to make you proud.

But she didn't need to promise anything. Chaewon was already perfect in your eyes, you knew she wouldn't disappoint you ever.

Then on the same night she was announced to be a member of IZ*ONE, Chaewon expressed her gratitude to you by coming into your house and wordlessly kissing you while in tears. You didn't need her to confess her feelings through words since her kiss had already told you everything she wanted you to hear.

And now here you were, stronger than ever despite not having been seen each other for months too long.

"I miss you too, Chae," You replied after collecting yourself. There was no way that you would just allow yourself to break down in tears in the middle of the street. "Tell you what, the moment you're free to hang out, I'll get you that delicious strawberry cake we always loved consuming."

Chaewon laughs again, and the sound just makes you grin like a crazy person, "I'll hold you to that, (Y/N)." A yawn escapes her, and she groans. She probably knows that now you know that she's tired, you'll go on and on about how she should go to sleep. And you most certainly will!

"Go to sleep, baby. I'll text you when I wake up." You said. You did want to talk more, you wanted to hear Chaewon's voice for so many more hours but you'd hate to be the reason why she's so worn out. There will be opportunities some other time, I just have to be patient.

"Mm~ okay, I will," You hear some shuffling in the background. It was Chaewon making herself comfortable in her bed. "Wait. (Y/N), my love, are you seriously outside right now?" Your girlfriend questions. And all of a sudden, she didn't sound so tired anymore.

You scratched your head, "Um. No. What makes you think that?" It was never a good idea to lie to the person that knows you better than anyone else, but you had to try!

"I can literally hear the wind against your mic." Chaewon said. You squeezed your eyes shut, of course you would lose the battle before it even started.

Sighing, you turned away from the various shops, "Fine, fine. I am outside. I just... took a little walk because I couldn't fall asleep. I'll be going back home now, where I'm safe and where my beloved wouldn't yell at me." You replied with a teasing smile although Chaewon couldn't see it.

"It's dangerous to be out so late in the night, babe. I thought I told you that if you can't sleep, you can just call me?" You could hear Chaewon sit back up. Her tone was firm, you knew you couldn't joke around with her anymore. You take a seat at the nearest empty bench and snuggled yourself in your jacket. It was getting colder, but something inside you told you to not go home just yet despite your girlfriend's scolding.

"But you've been overworked to the bone, Chae. I didn't want to be an inconvenience," You admitted. You nervously fiddled with the zipper of your jacket. "You shouldn't even be calling me right now, you know?"

"(Y/N)... I'll use my time however I want, and if it's to talk to you, I'll take every sleepless nights I can get," Oh, you were so hopelessly in love with this woman. You leaned back on the bench as tears suddenly started falling down your cheeks. It absolutely infuriated you how Chaewon just knew what to say to you. "You're never a bother, okay? I love you, I really do." Chaewon means every word that she says, you could feel it in your heart.

You held back a sob, "I love you more, dummy."

Chaewon explodes in a burst of adorable giggles, "You're the dummy here! But in all seriousness, please go home. I wouldn't want you to get sick when I'm not there to take care of you." Even though your girlfriend was right, the brightly lit shops further down the street made several light bulbs in your head illuminate, and you just couldn't pass up on the opportunity to do that.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm going back now." You said, now jogging towards the bike rental shop. The staff sitting by the entrance gave you a small wave as you approached him.

"Good girl," Chaewon yawns again, and you hear her collapse against the pillows. "Don't stay awake for too long now. Love you." Her words were slurred, you just knew she was one second away from running off into dreamland.

You smiled brightly, "Love you more." And with that, you hung up. You finally looked at the old man sitting by the bikes with shining, eager eyes.

Genius, that is what I am.

Exactly thirty minutes later, you start regretting your life choices. You were standing right outside IZ*ONE's backyard dead in the night, it wouldn't be surprising if someone mistakes you as a burglar or an obsessive fan and decides to call the cops on you. But you were already there, you would only wear yourself out if you decide to turn back now. Taking a deep breath, you carefully dropped the bike on the ground and took out your phone.

Before you could think to contact Chaewon once again, the sound of footsteps hurriedly approaching made you panic. I'm really about to be arrested like this, huh? It's been a fun life I guess.

"EUNBI-UNNIE, THERE'S A THIEF— wait, (Y/N)?!"

As if it the deity of fortune was looking down on you, Kim Chaewon stands a few meters in front of you wearing a shocked look on her face and a single slipper on her hand. It was probably what she was going to attack you with, had she not realized that it was you who had technically snuck into their backyard.

You smiled sheepishly at your startled girlfriend, "Surprise?" You barely finished speaking when Chaewon throws herself onto you, literally. You lost your balance and fell into the grass. Chaewon squeals into your ear and plants several kisses onto your face, and you laugh as she does so.

Chaewon pauses and holds your face for a good minute, staring at you as if she couldn't believe that you were right there with her. Then she engulfs you in a more gentle hug, and you wrap your arms around her waist, taking pleasure in the feeling of her loving embrace. Gods, you were about to cry again. It has been way too long since you were physically with Chaewon. You were almost willing to forget whatever plan you had and just cuddle with her for the rest of the night.

"I thought I told you to go home and sleep, you dummy!" Chaewon hits your shoulder, almost in tears herself. You raised yourself from the ground so that she was sitting on your lap, and you rested your head on her shoulder. Just her mere presence would have been enough for you, but now that she was right there, you didn't dare to not take advantage of the moment.

You hugged her closer than you ever have before, and you tilted your head to look into her beautiful eyes that never ceased to make you feel safe and appreciated, "I really love you, Chaewon." The pure sincerity on your voice was what really pushed Chaewon to let go of the restraints and let her tears fall free.

"I love you. I'm glad you're here." Chaewon slightly drips her head down to catch your lips with hers. It felt as if a collection of the world's biggest and most beautiful fireworks had set off inside your heart as you returned the affection. Chaewon always had that effect on you, she made every kiss feel like the first time and it just absolutely makes you swoon. The way she would carefully run her hand through your hair during it all made your heart go crazy.

You were never going to get tired of being in love with Kim Chaewon. Even if the two of you somehow ended up being on the opposite ends of the world, your hearts would always be together. Or something like that.

"This is probably a dumb question, but," Chaewon pulls away and smiles at you. Oh, yeah. Her smiles make your brain go haywire as well. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Your girlfriend asks.

"I'm taking you out on the best date you've ever had, baby," You said with a wide grin. (You never knew, but every time you showed her that stupidly cute smile, Chaewon falls for you even more.) Your face falls immediately a second after, however. "I-If that's okay. I mean, it is pretty late and you're exhausted."

Chaewon beams at you, and gosh you could just feel all her love through it, "I'd love to go on a date with you, (Y/N)," She then takes your face in her hands again, and her eyes immediately drop down to your lips that she has missed so very much. "But maybe after this."

Yeah, now that was a plan you could get behind.

#izone oneshots #izone scenarios #izone x reader #izone reactions #izone imagines #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon imagines #kim chaewon oneshots #kim chaewon scenarios #kim chaewon reactions #girl group oneshots #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #girl group reactions

168 notes · View notes

twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 2 years

Text

Well everyone, welcome back! So while I’m still working on requests and the asks from the event, today I wanted to do a little something different. Especially since…well…

[…it’s okay. You can say it.]

…right. As you guys may have noticed, the ‘Phantom Muse’ ghost writer struck again and—understandably—a lot of the deities are a little spooked…especially Jamil. We thought it had been another person—another mortal like me—that had hacked my account to post these things, but the fact that they knew Jamil’s story? Something that only the other deities knew about…?

[That means someone in or out of the pantheons did it. That’s why Rook and Ortho hadn’t sniffed out the perp: they were looking for mortal hackers, not deity ones.]

“Funyaa…that’s pretty creepy, yanno?” Sniffle… “I can’t stop thinking about that story though…”

Same…that curse sounds awful…

[It is. Also…who does this troll think they are?! Claiming my disciple’s inspiration for the blog? Calling her a lorekeeper? Are you SRS right now?!]

“Eep! He’s scary when he’s mad…”

Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay! It’ll be okay, Cater. Let’s just…keep working on the blog. Okay?

Sigh… [Fine. Okay…so, whatcha got planned for today’s post?]

Well, since everyone has a tendency to drop in unannounced, I thought it would be fun to show the readers here a little glimpse into what life looks like with powerful deities visiting at all hours of the day!

[Oooh, that sounds totes fun! How should I tag it?]

“Noisy!”

Chaotic-

“Annoying…”

-but fun!

[Gotcha!] Click! [Okay: #disciplelife #noisyannoyingchimera #chaoticbutfundeities #smh. And…posted! So, when’re you gonna start this?]

From 3:00 yesterday.

[Really? Isn’t 3:00 pm a bit late in the day?]

No. 3:00 am.

[Eh?! Why so early?]

Because some of you seem to forget that we mortals need to sleep and don’t appreciate bright lights or loud noises.

[Wha-?]

You’ll see…anyway, hope ya’ll enjoy!

(Under a read more because long! No warnings other than Lilia's cooking.)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

3:00 am—Accidental Sunrise

Faun: *peacefully sleeping under soft blankets before stirring when light starts filling the room* “Mmf…mornin’ alre’dy?” *looks up* “…hm? GAH!!?”

Leona: “Ugh…do you have to scream in my ear, mortal?”

Faun: “Wha-? How did-? Why are you in my bed?! How did you even get in here?”

Leona: “Magic. And you always have those really soft blankets we can’t get in our realm.”

Faun: “Seriously?...wait, what time is it?” *checks clock* “…it’s not even past three o’clock yet, why is it so brigh-? Oh, right. Your sun disk…”

Leona: “You figured it out. Good job—now let me sleep.”

Faun: “…are you avoiding your brother or your nephew.”

Leona: “Take a wild guess.”

Faun: “Both. Got it. Could you at least dim the brightness so I can sleep too?”

Leona: “Fine…”

Grim: “Hey! I’m gone for two minutes and he stole my spot! Wher’m I s’pposed to sleep?!”

7:00—Alarm Clocks are Overrated

All three are sleeping peacefully…

Sebek: *slams door open* “MORTAL!! Lilia-sama has summoned you for breakfast. Awaken!”

Faun: *on the ground clutching chest* “…I think my heart just stopped…”

Sebek: “Hmph—nonsense! You are alive and talking, are you not?”

Leona: *tangled in the comforter* “You need to get a refund on that alarm clock…”

Faun: “…I know you just said something snarky, Leona, but my ears are ringing from the talking thunder cloud.”

Grim: *fainting goat pose* “Funyaa…too loud…”

7:30—Breakfast is Served, Part One

Lilia: “Good morning, my child~!”

Faun: “Good mor—ning? What ah…what is all this?”

Lilia: “Why, breakfast of course. I made all your favorites~! Eggs and bacon, waffles, toast, and freshly squeezed juice!”

The table has several dishes filled with purple, green, and black “food”.

Grim: “Fygah! Did that pile of sludge just move?!”

Lilia: “Ah yes, those would be the waffles. Here, why not start off with a bowl of cereal?”

Faun: “…why is the cereal on fire?”

Lilia: “I have no idea. The cereal simply caught fire the moment I poured the milk. Perhaps a new brand?”

Faun: “I’m starting to wonder if someone put a curse on you…”

8:30—Breakfast is Served, Part Two

Trey: “Would you like another cinnamon bun?”

Faun: “Yes, please!”

Grim: “Me too!”

Faun: “Thanks for inviting us to breakfast and tea, Riddle, Trey.”

Riddle: “You’re very welcome any time.”

Grim: “I’ll take tea and sweets over a bowl of fire cereal and sludge!”

Riddle: “I beg your pardon?”

Faun: “Lilia tried to cook us breakfast and set a bowl of cereal on fire just pouring the milk in.”

Trey: “……how??”

9:30—It’ll be a breeze~!

Faun: “Wow, it’s pretty windy today. You having a good day, Ace?”

Ace: “Sure am! Just gained a new follower and they left an offering to get my blessing.”

Deuce: “Oh, so that’s where you got the cherry pie from? I thought you swiped it from Trey when he wasn’t looking again.”

Ace: “Hey! That was an accident. How was I supposed to know that it was for the Unbirthday Party that day?”

Grim: “Accident or not, food grudges are no jo-oke!” *gets blown backwards into Faun’s legs*

Faun: “I gotcha-oop!”

Deuce: “Careful!” *uses shield and wing to block wind current* “Ace, you need to turn down the wind.”

Ace: “What’s the matter, Juice? Afraid they’ll get blown away?”

Deuce: “Oi! It’s not Juice, it’s Deuce! You’ve had eons to remember that! And of course I’m worried—you remember what happened the last time, don’t you? Faun got hurt rolling down the hill!”

Faun: “I mean…it was kinda fun, minus the broken arm.”

Ace: “Oh calm down, will ya? That was an accident, and she’s fine! Besides, mortals have the durability predictability of a phone: they’ve survived worst things than a little wind.”

Deuce: “Your idea of a ‘little wind’ involves whirlwinds and tornados.”

Ace: “Oh yeah? Well then, how’s this for a little wind?”

FWOOSH!!!

Deuce: “Gah!”

Faun & Grim: “Whaaaa-!!!”

Ace: “…oops…”

Deuce: “I got’em!”

11:30—Catch a Cold (Wolf) in the Rain

Ruggie: “Whoa! What happened to you?”

Faun: *completely soaked to the bone and shivering* “F-Floyd thought t-that it’d be…f-funny to make it r-rain on J-J-Jack.”

Ruggie: “Oof…so you got hit with winter and rain magic at the same time, huh?”

Grim: *teeth chattering and looking like a wet cat* “W-w-whadda…jerk! Eh…a-a…achoo!!”

Ruggie: “Ah man, can’t have you two getting’ sick on me. Here, take a seat by the hearth. It’ll warm ya while I fix up some lunch, m’kay?”

Nana Bucchi: “Oh you poor dears. Here, a nice, warm quilt to warm you both.”

Faun & Grim: “Thank you, Nana Bucchi!”

Nana Bucchi: “You are most welcome, dears. Now, who would like a donut while we wait for the stew to finish?”

Faun, Grim, & Ruggie: “Me~!”

1:00—Eye of the Beholder

Rook: “Bonjour~!”

Faun: “Oh, hi, Rook! What’re you doing here?”

Rook: “I heard from the Rose Chevalier how you and Monsieur Fuzzball were experiencing a chaos-filled morning, and so I wished to check on you both.”

Grim: “That’s puttin’ it lightly.”

Rook: “Oh?”

Faun: “Well, let’s see…I got woken up twice before my alarm clock was supposed to go off and nearly had a heart attack both times. Then Lilia tried to cook us breakfast. Ace sent us flying in a cyclone…again. Then we fell into Jade’s river, got saved by Jack, and then Floyd nearly caused Grim and I to get flash frozen by making it rain while we were standing next to Jack, so we were dropped off at Ruggie’s cottage to warm up and get some medicine—”

Grim: “And lunch!”

Faun: “And of course, lunch. Overall, an average Tuesday.”

Rook: “Oh my. Sounds like quite the adventure!”

Faun: “Yeah. Right now I just want to rela—”

Vil: “Ah, there you are, Rook. I need you to—” *stares* “…Faun. Have you been neglecting your skin care routine again?”

Faun: “……uhhhhh……”

Vil: “Unacceptable! It would seem I need to teach you proper care once more. Mortals must take care of their body and mind, and I will not accept laziness or lack of time as an excuse for not performing self-care. Now come—you as well, Grim. Your fur is in an appalling state.”

Faun: *groans* “Is it too much to ask for a little break?”

Vil: “Faun…”

Faun: “Eep! Moving!”

4:00—Party Over Here~!

Grim: *groaning* “That took three. Whole. Hours! Is the day over yet?”

Faun: “Nope. Not even close…”

Grim: “Ugh…I just wanna take a nap…”

Faun: “Same.” *flops onto couch and lets Grim climb on before starting to set an alarm on phone* “An hour should do the trick.”

The two doze off, sleeping peacefully…

Brr-UUUMMMM!!!

Kalim: *comes flying in on carpet* “Hey, there you guys are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Grim: *clinging to Faun’s face with fur puffed out* “Don’t any of you know how to knock?!”

Kalim: “Oops! Sorry…”

Faun: “…was…was that an elephant just now?”

Kalim: “Oh, yeah! There’s going to be festival tonight and there’s a parade happening, so I thought I’d bring my favorite elephant along to stretch her legs. Say hi!”

Brrrrummm!

Faun: “Kalim…ugh, as much as I love your elephants, this is definitely going to be hard to explain. Do you guys even realize how difficult it’s getting to explain all the weird things and strange people appearing around my house to my neighbors? How am I supposed to explain what an elephant is doing in my yard?”

Kalim: “Hmm…well, you could tell them that the circus is in town?”

Faun: “…I-? Maybe??”

Grim: “Doesn’t that excuse only work on little kids though?”

Kalim: “Oh, right. You got a point there…well, I can take her somewhere else! I just wanted to know if you guys could come to the festival with me? There’s lots of food and games to play!”

Faun: *sighs* “You know what? Sure. Just promise to let us take a nap for an hour and we can go. Okay?”

Kalim: “Okay~!”

End Day

So…yeah, we ended up spending the rest of the evening at a festival and Kalim let us stay in his realm for the night.

[Wow. So that’s why you were so tired this morning!]

“Well duh! You guys are so exhausting to deal with…”

[And this is what you go through every day?]

Well, some days are calmer than others, but generally speaking? Yeah. Though…to be honest, I’d be more worried if a day is too quiet. I’ve gotten so used to having you all stop by and visit me every day that…well, I just can’t imagine not having at least one of you visiting.

[Really?]

Yeah! It’s nice just knowing I have someone checking in on me either in person or via messaging…even if they’re not human, it’s nice knowing you guys care. So…thank you. For being here for me.

Sniffle… [Aww…you’re gonna make me cry. Of course! Even if you don’t always see us, it doesn’t mean we’re not there. In fact…come here!] Click! [Tagging: #heartfeltsincerity #wholesomevibesftw #lovemydisciples5evah aaand…posted and pinned~!]

Huh?! Pinned? You never pin anything to your Magicam.

[Well, I thought I’d make an exception. It’s the least I can do to show my disciples how much I love and care about them, even if I can’t always say it to them.]

Awww…Cater…

“Bleh, when did it get so sappy?”

[Awww, does Grimmy want some hugs too~?]

“Ack! No, stay away! Only my disciples get to hold the Great Grim!! Nooooo-!!!”

Oop, there they go. Well folks, hope you guys enjoyed reading this! Until next ti…huh? Wait…where did this feather come from?

38 notes · View notes

1-800-sope · 3 years

Text

Tag, You’re It (M)

paring: Jungkook x reader

rating: M

Gener: Yandere

Warnings : Kidnapping

Summery: They always say it’s someone you know, someone that you are close to that turns out to be a psycho freak, you just weren't expecting it to be your hot innocent next door neighbor.

Inspired by Tag, You’re It by queen mel <3

BTS Masterlist

“Looking at me through your window

“Boy, you had your eye for a little”

“Hi Y/n.” Jungkook, your friendly neighbor shouted from across the yard as he spotted you. “Good afternoon Jungook, How are you?” You shouted back mirroring his smile. “I’m doing good just got done with some grocery shopping.” Jungkook responded displaying the plastic bags he was holding in his arms.

With that you let out a groan as you inserted your key in the lock. “That reminds me, I have to do some shopping of my own.” A chuckle escaped from jungkook.

“I’ll cut you up and make you dinner

You’ve reached the end, you are the winner.”

“Say if you don’t have food, I hope i’m not overstepping but why don’t you come over for dinner tonight.” Jungkook asked innocently, biting his lip as he eyed you from the sided. You focused on opening your front door trying to ignore the pounding in your chest. “As much as I would enjoy that Mr. Jeon, I have some homework to get to tonight.” You said as you looked up at him. Your door was now unlocked but you didn’t want to go inside, not yet at least. You wanted to savor this moment with your overly extremely hot next door neighbor.

Jungkook nodded his head as he went to open his own front door. “Well I wish you all the luck on that homework, but just know my offer still stands.” To anyone that would have seem like an innocent invitation, to YOU it was an innocent invitation. but to Jungkook it was far from innocent.

“Rolling down your tinted window

Driving next to me real slow, he said”

Jogging through the neighborhood was one of the things you did every morning five days out of the week. You would jog around the block two times, stop by Mrs. Kim’s daughters lemonade stand grab a drink and continue. It was all apart of the routine.

But having a suspicious black BMW slow down as it turned down the street you were making your way down was not apart of the rutie.

You were an observant girl, always aware of your surrounds, you liked to be kept on your toes never getting too comfortable, some might call you paranoid. So when you turned your head and caught site of the slowed down car you picked up your pase. But so did the car.

“Howdy Neighbor.” A familiar voice called out as the car was now next to you. “oh my god Jungkook!” You jumped back face flush with a beating heart. God this boy will give you a heart attack one day.

Jungkook looked at you with innocent eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked as you stopped and placed both of your hands on your knees, taking in deep breaths.

“Yes, you just scared the living daylights out of me that’s all.” You chuckled leaning back up whipping some sweat off of your forehead, when you make eye contact with him your face flushed.

gross and sweaty in front of the handsome neighbor way to go Y/n,

“Oh my bad I didn’t mean to.” He quickly spoke with a sincere look in his eyes. You laughed and shook your head. “It’s okay Jungkook, Just don’t drive so creepy next time.”

“Let me take you for a joyride

I’ve got some candy for you inside.”

“Say, I just got back from the store and I have some popsicles it is a hot day, would you like any?” Jungkook asked with a sweet smile that almost made you say yes right away.

You watched as the young man reached in the back of his car behind the driver's seat, you took note on how the ink on his muscular arms looked extremely good

when he pulled forward a box of popsicle you looked away not wanted to get caught drooling over him. “Thank you Jungkook.”You smiled as you watched him open the box. Your mouth instantly watered.

“Come eat it inside.” Jungkook said. You watched in confusion as he leaned over and open the car door. “Oh I really shouldn’t” feeling self conscious you took a step back.

“Nonsense, The popsicle will melt while it’s out there, and do you really wanna hold a sticky stick while you run.” He looked at you with a teasing smile.

Giving up you rolled your eyes and got into the car. “that’s a good girl.” Jungkook said as you shut the door face now more flushed than before and chest pounding that you pray to the gods he can’t hear it.

‘What flavor do you want?” He asked dismissing the comment he just made. You on the other hand had the words still repeating in your head. Another puls feeling shot through you but this one was not in your chest.

“Is there Orange.” You mastered to ask as you let out an awkward cough hoping he just thinks your flustered state is from the morning run. “Let me take a look.” He mumbled digging through the box.

“If not cherry is fine, you know i’m okay with any flavor except grape. the grape ones-” “taste like medicine” You and Jungkook said at the same time. You nodded. “You're in luck missy, I found an orange.” He playfully smirked holding up the orange flavored popsicle.

It’s been four weeks since your encounter with Mr. Hottie neighbor and you were thankful for that. Yes Jungkook was nice company but you won’t be able to go another minute with your heart going crazy like it was going to blast out of your chest.

It was currently 1:30 am and you were laying on your living room couch trying to finish up your thesis statement for one of your college courses, that when the third rumble of your stomach hit and you got fed up.

grabbing your car keys and throwing a jacked over your tank top you made your way out the door and to your car. One of the perks of being a college kid is being broke, ordering takeout for three weeks straight really put a dent in your pocket.

starting your car up you drove to the nearest corner store that was open.

pulling into the parking lot you failed to notice how it was almost empty except for wo other cars.

stepping out you didn’t bother to lock your car door the goal of getting in and getting out was the on thing that filled your mind.

“Running through the parking lot

he chased me and he wouldn't stop”

Once you were done paying you quickly grabbed your bag and pushed open the door, the cold air greeting you in the procese sent a shiver down your spine. was it worth it to go out in your pajama shorts and a tank top, looking around you took in how dark it was. no it wasn’t.

quickly opening your car door you placed the bag next to you and the keys inside. taking a peaky through the rear view mirror. That’s when you saw it

There was a person in the backseat of your car but before you could let out a bloody scream they placed the a white cloth over your mouth.

Now you were fully regretting going out tonight.

Not taking in a deep breath you reached your hand out to the cup holder next to you grabbing the paper spry you through your arm back and pressed down on it, the attacker cussed and moved their hand.

not wasting a minute you got out the car and did what anyone in their right mind would do. You ran. you heard the car door slam shut and you knew they got out too the fast footsteps that started to follow you proved it. but you didn’t stop, you didn’t look back.

“Grab my hand, pushed me down

took the words right out my mouth”

You felt the hands on you, the force pushed you to the ground as a hand went clasping around your mouth muffling your scram, a muscular arm wrapped around your waist bringing you back up.

This was not happening, You were not done for. You couldn't wouldn't except this faith and that's why you did everything your self defense classes taught you. You slammed your foot on this psycho’s toes and he released you again with a cuss.

if you would have listened. you would have noticed that the voice sounded oddly familiar.

but before you can even get one step away something hard came in contact with the side of your head sending you straight to the gourd.

your blurry vision filled with large black boots and then you lost consciousness.

You slowly opened your eyes, gretted to a dim light and a room with four walls, no windows in sight. just a door. panic rushed through your body and you tried to move that’s when you noticed you were hanging.

A thick rope wrapped around your wrist was hanging you up from the ceiling nothing was supporting your feet.

“Enie meenie miny mo”

A voice was heard from behind you, it made your heart stop.

“Get your lady by her toes”

You felt something brush against your ankle and you let out a piercing scream. The sinister sound turned into a child like giggle.

“If she screams, don’t let her go” it sung.

A choked sob escaped you as the tears started to run down your face. “Whyy why why why.” You whispered to weak to speak.

“Shhh shhh, it’s okay love.” The voice cooed as a hand was gently brushing down the side of your head.

The presence of your abductor finally showed itself, they were now standing in front of you holding those familiar innocent doe like eyes.

“J-Jungkook?”

“Howdy neighbor.”

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

285 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

Ummmmmm can i please request 5

This was written all on my phone waiting for my train and I’m trying to post it through my phone which tumblr is being a lil bitch about but here is

5. Falling Pregnant After A One Night Stand (3.6k)

(squick: a/b/o dynamics, mpreg)(two tags I never thought I’d write lmao)

Anakin’s working on the couch when he hears the key in the lock of the apartment door, signaling that finally—finally—Obi-Wan’s home from his week-long hastily planned stay at Bail’s place.

Bail and Breha’s place, Anakin reminds himself. Obi-Wan’s mated friends pose no competition to Anakin’s inner alpha, which definitely thinks of Obi-Wan as his omega.

Obi-Wan comes into the main room quietly, putting his bag on one of the barstools and leaning against the counter for a second, head bowed.

When he lets out a sigh and a heavy curse, Anakin can’t stop himself from speaking up, alarmed. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

Obi-Wan jolts and turns around to face the couch, clearly startled. “Anakin!” he yelps, one hand flying to his stomach and the other to grip the counter behind him, as if Anakin is an intruder, and not the man he’s been living with for six years. “I thought you’d be at work!”

Anakin fights the urge to flush. The truth is, he’s tried to go into work for the past three days, but Obi-Wan’s absense has kicked his alpha hindbrain into a special kind of panic mode, where he can’t stand to leave the den until the omega returns to it safely.

It’s not like Anakin’s going to say that though, not after five years of pining for the older omega from afar. He’s a pro at this by now.

“Working from home today,” Anakin says. And then so Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s spent his entire week alone on the couch waiting to be not alone anymore (he has), he lies, “Woke up hungover.”

“On a Thursday?” Obi-Wan says, sounding a bit concerned.

Anakin purses his lips and tries not to pout. He rakes his eyes over the omega, taking in his messed up hair and untrimmed beard and the dark circles that have popped up beneath his eyes. “You didn’t answer, Obi-Wan,” he accuses. “What’s wrong?”

The omega’s scent tinges with distress, which only proves Anakin’s point further. Obi-Wan never lets his scent leak through his blockers, not if he can help it. Anakin’s always made sure to luxuriate in his unbridled scent when he can, one that smells like maple and rain and cinnamon. But to smell it now just makes him feel more worried.

“Are you going into—“ Anakin stutters over the word heat. Obi-Wan’s at least feeling well enough to roll his eyes fondly. The older omega thinks Anakin’s one of those alphas that get wildly uncomfortable talking about an omega’s heat. It’s not true. Anakin’s helped friends through heats both platonically and sexually. Look, he’s run to the corner bodega at two in the morning to get Padmé heating pads to be left outside her door. He’s no stranger to heats.

But the idea of his prim and proper roommate writhing around in his nest, begging for something to fill him up the way he needs—that makes Anakin stutter and blush and trip over his words.

“No,” Obi-Wan says, but there’s something off in his tone, something sour in his scent. Anakin puts his laptop aside—the screen’s gone dark already anyway—and makes to stand, his inner alpha baying with the need to run his hands over the omega, to make sure he’s not bleeding or hurt or injured—

“I—I’m going to unpack and take a shower,” Obi-Wan decides, pushing away from the counter and closer to the couch. Not close enough. But closer. “And then I need to talk to you about something.”

“Are you…” Anakin casts around for the right word to say. Ill. Leaving me. Sick. Sick of me. Done with all of this. Dying.

Obi-Wan pauses and gives him his own sort of once-over. Whatever he finds in either his body language or his scent brings a soft smile to the omega’s face. “I’m fine, dear one. I—I need a shower. I don’t—smell right.”

Anakin blinks after him, hands balling into fists and relaxing as he processes those words. Usually it’s Anakin who wants Obi-Wan to shower off the stench of other alphas after his business trips or stays at his friends’ places. Obi-Wan’s always insisted he smells fine, but he’ll cave if Anakin’s mood gets bad enough.

It’s not something he’s especially proud of, but it’s worth it when Obi-Wan curls up onto the couch beside Anakin and he smells only like the shampoo and soap they share.

Sometimes if he’s tired enough, he’ll even let Anakin scent mark him so that next time he goes out, everyone will automatically assume he’s already in possession of an alpha and not looking for anything.

Sometimes, he even asks for it. Those times are the best.

Anakin tries to sit still while he waits for Obi-Wan to come back, but it’s impossible. He moves to the table, then to the kitchen counter, then back to the couch. Where should he sit, where would be a place he feels safe enough to receive whatever news Obi-Wan’s putting off telling him?

In the omega’s arms in his own bed, is the answer that comes to mind. But can he really ask that of Obi-Wan? They’ve done it before, when Anakin’s mother had died, when Ahsoka had left the city to get a degree abroad, when Anakin feels as though he’s going to shake apart if he doesn’t hold onto his omega and make sure that he at least can’t leave him too.

When Obi-Wan comes out of his room, all flushed from the shower with his hair still damp and messy, wearing a blue sweater Anakin’s pretty sure used to be his and a pair of sweatpants that are definitely currently his, there’s hardly a choice to make. If Obi-Wan wants to wear his scent, Anakin will give it to him.

Silently he takes his hand and leads him to his bedroom, toeing out of his shoes and tugging him into his bed and into his arms.

Obi-Wan goes so easily that it only makes Anakin more worried. His heart cannot take this level of stress and he has to hide his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and inhales greedily at the pure scent of omega—Obi-Wan omega—his omega.

“Obi-Wan,” he says nonsensically, just to feel the way the omega in his arms shudders at the sensation of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck.

But then Obi-Wan doesn’t stop shaking and Anakin can feel a growing wetness against his shirt. He can’t stop the distressed rumble that comes out of his throat, but he bites his tongue just in time to stop the alpha command to tell him. Obi-Wan wouldn’t like that and Anakin wouldn’t like doing it.

His hands stroke soothingly over the omega’s back as he starts purring from within his chest. An alpha’s purr is supposed to reassure an omega, make them feel safe and protected, but Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to realize this because he doesn’t stop crying.

“Talk to me,” Anakin murmurs nosing at the short hairs behind Obi-Wan’s ears. “Baby. Obi. Omega. What is wrong? What can I do?”

Obi-Wan wipes his eyes dry on Anakin’s shirt and looks up at him with a heartbroken but strangely resigned expression. Like he already knows what Anakin’s going to do, and he thinks nothing he says will change anything.

As if.

When Obi-Wan went on a two month long business trip three years ago, Anakin grew out a beard and it only took one look from the omega upon his return before Anakin was shaving it off. The point is, Obi-Wan doesn’t even need to speak half the time for Anakin to agree. He’s just that in love. It’s pathetic. He can’t remember who he was before it.

“I’m a mess, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan finally gets out, retracting one of his hands from the tight grip he has on Anakin’s shirt to rub at his eye. “I told myself I wasn’t going to be like this, but. I don’t—it’s—“

“Hey, hey,” Anakin soothes, leaning back a bit so he can knock their foreheads together. Packmates do that all the time. “It’s okay.”

Obi-Wan nods slowly, and his scent expands with the pleasant notes of a comforted, protected omega.

“Do you remember…when I went to Seattle at the end of August for that conference?” he starts slowly.

Anakin hums in acknowledgement. He’d wanted to go with Obi-Wan, instincts demanding that the other side of the country was too far for the omega to travel alone, but he’d not been able to get time off of work.

His heart drops into his stomach at the idea that somehow maybe Obi-Wan met someone there during his four-day trip, and he’s in love with them and is trying to find a way to tell Anakin he’s moving.

Would it be pathetic if Anakin followed him? Would Obi-Wan’s new alpha allow Anakin to live with Obi-Wan still? Would Obi-Wan’s alpha be amenable to telling Anakin how he made Obi-Wan fall in love with him in a matter of days when Anakin’s been trying to get the man to love him romantically for six years?

Anakin’s heart rate is up, but it’s nothing compared to the staccato beat of Obi-Wan’s. He tries to send out more calming pheromones, but he can’t even find them for himself.

This is it. He’s about to lose Obi-Wan. The alpha inside of him whimpers, and it takes all of his willpower not to crush his omega tighter to his chest.

No. Not his.

“I met a man there, just at the hotel,” Obi-Wan says. It would have been kinder if he’d just stabbed Anakin with the kitchen knife. There’s no relief to be found in this slow death. Because—because surely, Anakin will die without Obi-Wan. Not physically, of course. He’s not one of those alphas who doesn’t know how to take care of himself.

Actually, it’s Anakin that cooks most of the time for both of them. And Anakin will do the shopping, will keep an eye on the amount of cleaning supplies they have, how much toilet paper, how many garbage bags.

But what would be the point of cooking anything if Obi-Wan isn’t there to taste it and shower him with praise? What’s the point of cleaning the apartment if Obi-Wan isn’t there to tuck himself into his arms on the couch and thank him for the work? What’s the point of anything if he’s doing it without Obi-Wan?

“Anakin, I—“ Obi-Wan stutters and falls silent. Anakin braces himself for the end he should have seen coming. “I’m pregnant.”

White noise. Anakin doesn't even think he’s breathing. Obi-Wan is pregnant. Obi-Wan…had a one-night stand in a city 2,400 miles away from Anakin, and he’s pregnant. Someone touched Obi-Wan, someone made Obi-Wan come, someone got Obi-Wan pregnant, and maybe…maybe there’s a chance they’ll get to keep Obi-Wan too.

The alpha in his chest howls at the thought. The idea that—that someone else will have a better claim on Obi-Wan’s heart. What’s six years of living together compared to a child?

Except Obi-Wan presses further into his chest, with a shaky whine. The omega is here now, not with any other alpha, not in any other city. He’s in Anakin’s bed, in Anakin’s arms.

Anakin opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure out what to say, how to say it, how to speak. He needs to know so much more. He needs to know what Obi-Wan is going to do, if he’s in contact with the father, if he’s planning to move, if he’s planning to raise the—

As if he can hear his thoughts, Obi-Wan starts talking again, very fast as if he’s afraid Anakin’s going to kick him out in a few minutes and he needs to get the whole story out before he does.

“I’m keeping it. Them. I—I’m so old now—“ he’s barely 38– “I’m afraid this could be my only chance at…at a family.”

Anakin closes his eyes and hides his face in the still-damp strands of Obi-Wan’s hair. He doesn’t want Obi-Wan to see how devastated he is at this response. Anakin’s family is Obi-Wan. He’d thought…he’d wanted….

“I understand if you want to move out before the lease ends,” Obi-Wan mumbles, but his hands clench tightly around Anakin’s back. “I know…a baby…another alpha’s baby…you shouldn’t have to take care of them. I know it’s not what you signed up for, I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t hold it against you.” His voice gets smaller and smaller until Anakin has to strain to hear him. “I can do this alone.”

He sounds as if he’s telling himself as much as he’s telling Anakin. But Anakin can’t even focus on that because his entire attention is caught by everything else Obi-Wan’s just said. Because it sounds…it sounds as if Obi-Wan is planning to stay in the city. In the apartment. Without the sire.

Alone.

As if Anakin would ever let Obi-Wan be alone, given the choice. As if Anakin would ever leave Obi-Wan to struggle through any difficulty without him.

Obi-Wan presses impossibly closer to him. “Say something,” he demands, running his nose up and down Anakin’s neck, over his scent glands, as if he expects Anakin to be able to form whole, coherent sentences when he’s doing that with his mouth.

The pregnancy must be messing with Obi-Wan’s instincts and emotions, Anakin realizes distantly. His body must know he’s not mated, that he’s about to be a visibly pregnant, unmated Omega in a dangerous city. No wonder he’s trying to cover himself so completely in Anakin’s scent. He has to wonder if Obi-Wan even understands what he’s doing. He’s never been one to try and he in touch with his Omegan side.

“Alpha,” Obi-Wan pleads, and Anakin has a second realization that it’s been ages since he’s said something. The room fills with the scent of distressed, in pain omega.

Anakin lets out an involuntary purr and tightens his hold on Obi-Wan’s body. It would be nice to look him in the eyes, but he thinks they both need as little distance between themselves as possible. “You’re going to make a great parent,” he soothes, nuzzling along Obi-Wan’s hairline. “And I’m not going to leave you unless you want me to.”

Obi-Wan stills completely as if shocked to his bones, and then he relaxes bonelessly into Anakin’s arms. This time, Anakin feels the tears as soon as they start and he goes about stroking up and down Obi-Wan’s spine again.

“I was so afraid,” Obi-Wan admits between sobs. Anakin thinks to himself privately that he definitely knows how that feels, but one of them shouldn’t be crying. “I didn’t know how to tell you—I didn’t want you to hate me for making such a stupid mistake—“

There’s nothing Obi-Wan could do to make him hate him. Sure, Anakin’s absolutely filled with hatred for whoever caught Obi-Wan’s eye on that business trip, but none of those emotions bleed over into what he feels for Obi-Wan. Not when his love is too strong and entrenched.

“Bail said you’d understand but I’m just—a mess, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time and these goddamn hormones are making me feel out of control—“ Obi-Wan continues. The fact that Bail fucking Organa found out about Obi-Wan’s pregnancy before Anakin did will drive him crazy if he lets it, so he puts that aside for now and focuses on comforting his omega.

“We’ll figure it out,” Anakin says, scenting Obi-Wan back. “It’ll be alright.”

————

A few hours later, Obi-Wan awakens from the nap he’s fallen into with a start. Anakin’s gotten no sleep, too busy drawing nonsense lines on Obi-Wan’s back and staring at the ceiling, thinking about the future. About what’s going to happen to them, around them.

No matter how much he hates the sire of the child in Obi-Wan, he already feels attached to the baby. It’s part of Obi-Wan. Maybe they’ll have his hair color or his eyes. Maybe they’ll have his compassion, his wit. Maybe they’ll let Anakin teach them how to play soccer or swim or cook.

The possibilities are endless and all of them involve Obi-Wan falling in love with him because of how amazing of a father he is to his child.

It’s not the most pressing thought in his mind, but he has to admit at least to himself that it’s there. That he’s just as in love with Obi-Wan as he was when he woke up in the morning. Now he just has another part of Obi-Wan to love: his child.

Maybe their child.

“I need to tell him,” Obi-Wan mumbles from his spot laying across Anakin’s chest. “I don’t—I don’t particularly want his involvement or, or money, but he should know. He should have the option to be in his child’s life.”

The part of Anakin who has just spent the past three hours getting used to the idea of raising Obi-Wan’s child as if he’s his own bristles at the idea of the sire being involved at all.

“Do you have his number?” Anakin asks reluctantly. He can’t imagine getting to sleep with someone as gorgeous as Obi-Wan and not trying to give him a means of keeping in contact.

But Obi-Wan shakes his head.

“His address?”

Another negative. “I…know his name and where he works.”

Anakin bares his teeth at the ceiling. “And?”

Obi-wan sounds more than a bit embarrassed. “Ah. He was the bartender at the hotel. And his name tag said Set.”

“You went to a medical conference full of alpha surgeons and researchers and you…slept with the bartender,” Anakin says blankly, before he can stop himself.

Obi-Wan huffs. It’s the most Obi-Wan response he’s given since he got home from Bail’s. “Sorry my one-night stands don’t meet your standards.”

Anakin hums. The truth is the only person who will ever meet his standards as a romantic partner for Obi-Wan is Anakin. “So what do you want to do? Call the hotel and ask for Set?”

Which, by the way, is the most pretentiously Seattle name he’s ever heard of. Set’s given name is probably, like, David and he just wanted to sound cool and grunge.

“I can’t just—this isn’t something I can say over the phone, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. He falls silent.

“It’s mid-November,” Anakin points out. “Neither of us are hurting for money, but plane tickets are going to be astronomical until January at least. If they’re available at all.”

There’d be shitty seats available, of course, but Anakin’s not going to let his pregnant omega cram himself into an uncomfortable, smelly seat for eight hours.

“You don’t—I don’t expect you to come with me,” Obi-Wan mumbles into Anakin’s collarbone.

Anakin just manages to bite back a scoff and the urge to point out that last time Obi-Wan went off to Seattle without him, he got pregnant. Who knows what would happen if he does it again?

“Well, I’m gonna,” he says firmly. “But I think we should drive. It’ll take longer, but I’d feel much better about what you’re exposed to, not to mention how much more comfortable my car is than a coach seat. We can share a motel bed to cut costs, and—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Obi-Wan picks himself up off his chest to stare at him quizzically. “What if your job won’t let you take the days off? They didn’t even let you leave for the original Seattle trip and that was only a few days. We’re talking weeks here, Ani.”

Anakin sets his face into a scowl. He’s worked at the same finance firm since moving to New York, but if they won’t let him take time off for this, for Obi-Wan, he’ll quit. Simple as that. “Then I’ll go anyway and they can fire me.”

Predictably, Obi-Wan has several protests. Anakin will hear none of them. If he is fired, if he can’t find another finance job in the city that makes the same amount of money, then they’ll move out to somewhere else. He’s heard good things about Denver. And if Obi-Wan doesn’t want to move that far, maybe they can move upstate. It’ll be easier to raise a kid outside of the city anyway.

He’s not dumb enough to tell Obi-Wan this, knowing it makes him sound literally insane, but he is just stupid enough to cut Obi-Wan off and say, “you’re the most important person in my life, Obi-Wan. You….you both are.”

Hesitantly he moves his hand down to rest it gently over the slightest swell of Obi-Wan’s tummy. The omega’s breath catches in his throat, but he lets him touch.

“I’m going to be there with you, every step of the way if you’ll have me,” Anakin adds, stroking his thumb over the impossibly soft skin. Pregnant. Obi-Wan is pregnant.

It’ll take a few days more to get completely used to that idea, that’s for sure.

Obi-Wan studies his face with eyes still red-rimmed and puffy from all that crying a few hours ago. Slowly he raises his own hand to Anakin’s neck and rubs up and down his scent gland with something almost like longing in his expression. They’re so close together. Anakin would let him have anything—everything.

Everything.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan agrees with an air of strained incredulity in his voice , placing his other hand over Anakin’s on top of his abdomen. “Yes. Let’s drive to Seattle so I can tell my one-night stand that I’m carrying his child.”

Anakin nods and adds privately in his head, And so I can tell him that that kid’s gonna be mine in everything but blood and he better stay on his side of the goddamn country.

He’s not losing his family to some stupid Seattle alpha.

#asks #prompt fill #I could definitely see 2 more parts of this #part 2 the road trip #part 3 the get together where anakin meets set and is very surprised when they look identical #this was so fun and cute to write that’s why it’s 3.6k btw #squick tag: a/b/o #squick tag: mpreg #stuck between calling this the roadtrip au or the baby daddy au #baby daddy vs found father showdown fight to death au #anakin would 😌❤️#anyway this was supposed to have a lot more italics but they didn’t copy from the Google doc so when I finally get home I’ll add them #obikin #omega obi-wan kenobi #alpha anakin skywalker #roadtrip au

147 notes · View notes