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r6-unifiedlands · 5 months

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The Confrontation

[Remington "Espion" Harmonics & Gerald "Deimos" Morris]

Summary: Finding out that your uncle took the lives of your boss and your parents sucks. What's even worse is that after all this time, Espion still couldn't help but miss him as someone she'd dearly seek comfort from.

A/N: My friends on Discord horrifiedly watched me on VC every day, late night to morning to write this

Reth couldn’t sleep.

Ever since Deimos’ capture, she’d been watching the interrogation process from behind the glass, along with Sebastien and Gustave. It was the usual matter of Eliza trying to pry off the lid of the former Rainbow agent, and the other would avoid telling her.

There were times when another operator barged into the room – weapon in hand, to kill this man – but got stopped by other operators.

For herself, she didn’t know how to process this newfound information.

Gerald “Deimos” Morris was the one who killed her parents.

It’s tiring. Her brain felt like short-circuiting, but she kept trying to pay attention to the ongoing attempt to squeeze out the needed information. However, the information dripped slowly from the current situation, and Rainbow had limited time to keep him for long.

Not much progress had been made. The Rainbow’s unwearable patience was currently being tested. And most importantly, Deimos’ existence in this base felt like a drop of lethal poison in a drinkable water source.

Emil and Jamie became restless, Kana couldn’t even stay still, Julien was struggling to keep himself from breaking his promise to Gustave about keeping the criminal alive, and more.

She didn’t want to think any longer. She craved a place she could call home once again.

[The previous place she once called home was gone a long time ago.]

A click of a tongue snapped her from delving too deep into her dark mind, and she saw Eliza strutted out of the interrogation room. Another failed attempt of the interrogation. Reth wondered why they didn’t bring Taina into the room before remembering the demise of her victims after the end of her interrogation.

“Put him back in his cell,” there was a pause in her sentence, “while I’ll dig more into his background.”

The other two men cussed in their mother language. “At this rate, we’ll lose our source of info.” Gustave gritted his teeth. “I don’t know what to do at this point. We tried a lot of tactics, and he doesn’t budge ‘til this point.”

She couldn’t keep up with the rest of the conversation. Her mind was afloat, detached from her own body. None of her attempts to refocus were successful.

Instead, she saw another figure in her stead of controlling her body.

Someone that looked like her, but was dressed in her Nighthaven R&D uniform. Her hair was tied into a small bun, and the supposed Nighthaven emblem was ripped off, leaving an uneven patch.

She watched as her body moved on its own, using the current frustration of the other operators as a cover to approach the interrogation room’s mic and turn it on.

“Uncle Gerald. It’s been a while.”

Those two words worked like a charm. Deimos’s cocky expression was replaced with a more surprised look, knuckles turning white by how hard he squeezed them. The rest of the operators stopped their quarrel and stared at her with mouth agape.

Her tone was almost devoid of life. Almost.

Deimos adjusted his seating, now facing the one-way glass. “You’re supposed to rest, sweetpea. I know you’re currently recovering from your injuries.”

Sweetpea. The nickname that his uncle gave to her when she was little. When both he and her father were close to each other.

Her teeth clacked together, anger in her eyes. “After all this time, you still call me that,” her breath became more ragged, “after you took my parents away. Taking my dreams away. My brother had to let go of his dream of becoming a rocket engineer, and we had to survive with their insurance money.”

“I had to work as a weapon engineer in my father’s stead. I studied so I could get more chances to be accepted into higher-paying jobs. I put myself on the line in the military so I get a sense of purpose in life.” Reth let out a breathy laugh. “I flew myself too close to the sun on purpose to seek something other than this pang of guilt in my chest. All because you took the only thing that could keep me grounded and safe.”

Despite her body being tugged by the older operators, she didn’t budge. Her eyes were fixated on the man in an orange jumpsuit. The prisoner of this place.

A sob escaped from her lips. “At least,” she whispered, “tell me what my father’s last words were. I wanted to hear his words one last time.”

Deimos' hardened face softened, and he leaned back onto his folded chair. Silver handcuffs glint under the fluorescent light. His expression now looked more like that of his old uncle whom his father had gently scolded because he fed them pea snacks outside the scheduled mealtime.

“He wasn’t supposed to die.” He started, and Gustave quickly set up a voice recorder to contain the self-confession. “Keres Legion was trying to reactivate Rainbow, and they needed a switch. So they targeted someone that could be bait for it. Ivan Kovalyov was the perfect candidate for it.”

“I put together a plan. It took me weeks because I didn’t want Ivan to die on me, but I perfected it. Your family wouldn’t get harmed, but the casualties would be enough to satisfy the group.” He bit his lips, dark eyes now looking down to the ground. “I forgot that Ivan was the most selfless person in Rainbow. He wouldn’t fall onto the safety net I gave him.”

[The gas canisters were planted in several hidden spots, strategically placed to fill the stadium within a short amount of time. His undercover, disposable crew helped him with his whole plan without knowing there was a small air pocket being left out in the crowd.

Deimos didn’t wear his mask to make himself blend better with the civilians. Kids were running around the bleachers to get their seats while the adults were purchasing food or souvenirs.

Too bad most of them would be part of the casualties.

The security guard’s uniform fit him perfectly, with his fake ID card displayed right in the pocket. He still pulled down the cap to cover his face, though. Old habit dies hard, or something like that.

Should he recheck the canisters? He could’ve asked others, but he’s not sure if they would do their job properly or–

“Excuse me, can you help me locate this seat?”

It was a familiar, warm voice, laced with the signature thick Russian accent on the top that made his head snap its way towards the voice’s direction almost instantly. Deimos’ dark eyes widened.

Ivan Kovalyov. The supposed target. His old friend whom he’d still cared for to this day.

It took him all of his willpower not to drag him away from the incoming chaos of the place. “I…could try.” Deimos stared at a piece of paper the man was currently holding. “I’m unfortunately a security guard, but I could help ya with this.”

The other man froze in his tracks, the greenish-blue eyes glued to him. “Repeat that again?” He asked, leaning closer to him. Deimos internally cussed to himself.

Ivan always paid attention to people’s voices and accents.

“Did I do something wrong?” He forced his voice to squeak in a high-pitched tune, and it felt like a lump clogged his throat.

‘Gerald’ would never squeak like this, and he hoped this would throw the Russian man off his trail.

Ivan blinked, before backing away from him. “Apologies, I was…” he sighed. “I didn’t take my meds today. I thought you were my old partner.”

Partner. His chest tightened and felt like it was about to burst out, but he prevented himself from doing anything stupid using the little willpower he had left.

Deimos took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Calm down. “Don’t worry, sir. People have been saying I have a very recognizable face.” His tone was higher than the usual baritone one, expression beaming with a wide smile, too wide for his taste. God, his face would cramp the next day. “Do you still want the direction? I can ask my friend to cover up for me.”

The Russian gave him a small smile. “Ah, American hospitality. Good to know they exist!” The passive-aggressive comment made him laugh. Good to hear his voice, still. The same warmth in every word contrasted with the cold exterior during their times in Rainbow and until now.

He wished they could stay like this forever.]

It was the first time Rainbow got a major breakthrough about Keres Legion. The planned assassination of a former Rainbow operator, their past motive, and even how they carried the plan. They never expected to get this information without having to use any force. Ash and Sebastien scrambled in and out of the interrogation room, looking around the archives to verify the claims.

Listening to his uncle’s voice also helped Reth ground herself up. Soothing baritone, the same one when he sang lullabies from his hometown to her and Polar.

Deimos stared at the glass – right through the youngest operator’s soul. “At that point, I was ready to execute my plan. To get this over with.” He fidgeted his thumbs. “But I want him to enjoy his time watching you, even if I have to keep postponing the time.”

“You know you wouldn’t be placed in that situation if you didn’t join Keres Legion in the first place.”

A fist slammed onto the table, making the young operator’s heart jump from her chest to the throat. “Staying in Rainbow would be worse.” He growled.

She’s not going to be intimidated by this man. Not this time.

“Did you know how bad my father coped with your fucking shenanigan?!” She slammed her fist onto the glass barrier, and that made Deimos cringe a bit. “He couldn’t sleep, ate far less, and almost died during most of his missions until the time Rainbow got disbanded. He dug too deep, making deals with multiple PMCs to try and track you down. Meds and your jacket that you never picked up from our house were his only solace in getting at least a shuteye.”

Deimos remained silent. Both of them knew he wouldn’t say anymore today.

Unless…

“Fine, have it your way.” She backed away from the mic, purposely letting the mic on. “Doc, mind telling me the next mission? Or should I ask Cav for it?”

A sharp gasp came out from Gustave. “Non, you’re still recovering–”

The young operator slipped her hand into her chest pocket and pulled out her phone. “Oh, no need. Zero would probably help me with training. Maybe I can negotiate my way with Cav if I did well on it.” Her fingers danced across the screen of her phone as she typed a short message, Mr Fisher’s phone number displayed above it.

“Mon ami, you’ll get in danger once again–”

“I’ve done my physical therapy, Doc. You were there when the hospital let me return to my duty.” A soft chime came out from her phone, and she gave him a shit-eating grin. “I couldn’t just stay here and sit on my ass. I gotta go do my duty as a soldier.”

Her statement wasn’t for Gustave. It was for the one behind the glass, eyes now widened in slight horror.

She’s waiting for what he’d do later on.

————————————

“He asked me to get him involved in our field operations in exchange for more information.”

Jordan clutched his head, pulling his hair out. “No. Fuck no.” He growled, hatred in his eyes. “He almost crippled me, ‘Liza. He fucked up our assets. We lost multiple recruits in Korea because of him!!”

Taina raised her hand. “It’d be better to pull the whole operation from the root down, Trace. You don’t cut the leaves to make weeds disappear.”

“Agreed with Ms Pereira,” Gustave added, “we should make use of this chance to get more intel. We got a breakthrough this week, and we will spend it wisely.”

“This is the first time I disagree with you, Gustave.” Yumiko crosses her arms. “His presence in this base is already impacting Rainbow’s morale. Remember the last time Kana managed to slip past our defenses and attempted to murder Deimos? Emil has been wandering around the hallway like a ghost already.”

The team leaders sighed out loud. Once again, they’re in the middle of an impasse.

Jordan glanced at Jamie, furrowing his eyebrows. “James, waddaya think? You’re the one who knows him personally.”

Reth and Jamie were unfortunately dragged into this meeting as soon as the news of them being somehow related to Deimos came out. So far, only a handful of people know this fact. Limiting access to the information was mainly for the siblings’ safety, especially those who had a grudge against the detained man.

“God, Jordan, you would be disappointed in me.” He gently nudged at Reth. “She’s the second closest one after Pa. I’m not that close to him.”

All eyes went straight to the young operator, expecting her to say something about the matter. She didn’t like the feeling of pressure on her.

“Well, he’s my godfather.” She tucked her hands onto her thighs. “My father wanted his daughters to have someone that we could look up to, and Uncle Gerald was his closest bud during that time. Really, really close buddies.”

“He visited us a lot, went to family holidays together, and even took care of us when he was on solo missions and mother was outside town. He taught me circuits and stuff related to electrical when I was around… six? Seven?” She let out a hum. “At that point, I saw him as a parent. Another family figure. Thus, the name ‘uncle’ came out.”

“James wasn’t close to him. At least, not as close as me.” Her eyes glanced at the taller operator beside her. “Still, Uncle Gerald tried to be close to him. I remembered him getting James some books about applied physics on one of his birthdays. He’s like a stepdad who was trying to get his new stepkids to like him.”

A gloved hand nestled onto her messy hair, and Reth tilted her head upwards to see Seb's familiar neatly trimmed beard. His gentle scalp scratches made her purr. “I have an idea now that we have his relatives.”

Gustave raised one of his eyebrows. “Go on.”

————————————

Reth couldn’t sleep. Again.

Lack of sleep had its consequences. Gustave had warned her multiple times, but she kept ignoring him. In exchange, her hyperawareness to her surroundings has increased tenfold.

The atmosphere was too humid. Oxygen in the air wasn’t enough. The fluorescent light made the room too hot. She could feel her own throat tightened as if her own body wanted her to suffocate.

Calm down, Espion. Sebastien’s plan came first after her own need.

Her trembling hand held onto a cup of black coffee, pushing her focus onto the comfortable warmth of the mug. Sipping the dark liquid, the bitter yet robust taste filled her mouth and snapped her out of the tiredness for now.

Door creaked open. Shuffles of footsteps. Chair shifted away a bit. Breathing noise.

“...It’s been a while, sweetpea.”

Familiar deep voice lulled the young operator away from the discomfort around her, with the same soft tone he would use whenever she threw a meltdown tantrum during her childhood. She could hear the smile in his expression. A genuine one, she hoped.

She put down the mug on the table and finally took a good look at the man right in front of her.

Deimos, now sitting down across her. Smiling warmly at her.

As if he didn’t kill her parents and her boss.

Deep breaths, Espion.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” She hid her hands under the table, now trembling from the brink of exhaustion. “Did Ash treat you well? I think Rainbow’s containment cell is still humane enough.”

“They provided me with a couple of my favourite Russian poetry books. Good to spend my time reading them.” He tapped the plastic table in a rhythmic pattern. Dark eyes remained sharp. “But I know you’re not here for idle chat. Especially since the last time we’ve met.”

Of course this man knew the motive. Ever since that situation, Eliza kept Reth away from the area. Might be out of fear, or maybe because he could use her to negotiate his way out. Her sudden appearance here would be for something.

To be honest, she wasn’t so sure about Sebastien’s idea. Using her as a so-called ‘bait’ to extract more information on his motive and upcoming plans. And most importantly, the Keres Legion itself. Deimos wasn’t that stupid.

She yawned while keeping her mouth closed and exhaled it out of her nostrils. “I’m just asking a bit of questions, personally made by me.”

“Uh-huh. And they talked you out for this?” He squinted, unconvinced.

“Coming here on my own will.” Fuck, her consciousness was slowly dipping out. “Let’s get this over quickly. I still have a bunch of paperwork to fill.”

Deimos hummed a bit. Something was in his mind. “If the papers are related to Rainbow’s self-report on personal damage, you’d get compensation for the injuries.” His feet lifted up and settled down on the edge of the table. “I hate Rainbow, but this organization gives fair pay and has its own life insurance.”

“First, the compensation money was spent on my whole recovery. I was planning on filling the mission one, actually.” Reth glanced at the one-way glass barrier, smiling at the people on the other side. “It’s a soldier’s duty to save lives. And I’m a soldier myself.”

The calm expression in the former Rainbow operator changed, replaced with irritation. “Soldiers have their time to retreat after a failed mission.”

“Like the time you put me into a coma?” Dominic’s blunt and sarcastic influence on her came out. “You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

Nothing beats the satisfaction of seeing the supposed enemy flinched, hurt written all over his expression. She sneered, pushing herself back onto her seat, as silence grew between both of them.

[Comatose wasn’t a fun experience. During that state, she could still listen to the people beside her bed. From Mr Fisher’s weekly visit to tell her about Jamie’s condition, to Gustave checking her vitals and aiding the medical workers to see if they did what he’d told them before.

The constant beeps and whirrs of multiple support machines were the ones that kept her mind intact when people weren’t talking around her.

The silence was the malicious accomplice of her flashbacks.]

He opened his mouth, about to say something, but seemed to hesitate. “...At least,” Deimos’s voice broke the layers of ice between them, his voice now softer than usual. A small hiccup came out of his mouth. "Let me protect you all, like Ivan’s final wish.”

“...Huh?”

Another silence filled the room. This time, it wasn’t because of the other’s lack of cooperation or hostile tension between them.

Right in front of her, the ‘Deimos’ persona seemed to melt away. Like an iceberg chipped away with a small chisel and leaving trails of puddles. Sunlight passed through the clear ice, creating a familiar pillar of light that radiated warmth.

That’s how she felt when she saw his uncle, vulnerable right in front of her. Pleading at her to fulfil her father’s last wish. To let him return to their remaining family.

Her lips trembled. Her whole body shook visibly. Exhaustion has finally caught up to her, whether she liked it or not.

“...I’m tired, Uncle Gerald.” She squeaked out. Warm tears trailed down her puffy red cheeks. “Because of you, I lost a place called home. Because of you, all of us had to go our separate ways to thread our own paths. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing myself back into the chaos that happened that day. To see my father’s body in the middle of that stadium’s grass field.”

[His body was cold when she finally found him. She was too late.

Young Remington screamed at the sky, and her small body tried to drag her father’s massive physique. Was this because she had beaten those American kids on the track? Was this because God wanted her not to throw more meltdown tantrums? What did she do wrong to make God hate her??

She prayed. She promised to be kind to her classmates who pushed her around. To eat her vegetables without gagging. To hold back her tantrums. All for a miracle.

No matter how loud her screams and prayers were, her father remained limp on her body, dragged away to safety by his own daughter.]

“I wish,” Reth’s voice now barely a whisper, her consciousness slipping out, “you were there when I needed you.”

“I missed your warm hugs. I missed you.”

At this point, her hyperawareness was almost nonexistent. All she could feel was the dark spots dancing in her sight, and her body grew heavier, refusing to budge from the seat. She didn’t notice the sound of the chair skidding against the floor and a pair of light footsteps moving toward her.

Warm fingers gently touched her reddened cheeks, wiping off her tears. “I’m here now, sweetpea.” Deimos softly cooed. “Do you wanna take a nap, kiddo? I can try hugging you while you’re asleep.”

It only took her a small nod for him to smile — the same smile he had when she was still under his care.

[Jamie was about to burst into the room and grab his sister, but Sebastien pulled him aside to calm him down. The Canadian felt that if he disrupted their moment, Deimos would rip open a new hell in Rainbow. Currently, the only thing that seemed to keep the former operator from doing exactly that was the petite woman wrapped in his embrace, quietly snoring her exhaustion away.

Choosing her to do the interview was a good idea.]

#r6s #r6s oc #r6s deimos #r6s doc #r6s ash #r6s buck #r6s hibana #r6s thermite #r6s caveira #When your wife and your soulmate are two different person #I joked about this a lot to my friends hdkgh #Why Ivan's last name is different? He enlisted to Rainbow with his actual russian name #Harmonics is his new name when he settled down in US

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bakuhoes-dumbass · 3 years

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OKAY NERDS iM BaCk! Soo if they all escaped like the whole power outage happened and all of that. Y/N got out of the facility before any of them could get to her (IDK HOW MAN BUT YK, Y/N IS A BADDIE SOO) So after like a month passes and Y/N is like jogging or some shit idk but how do you think each one of the guys would capture Y/N?

Oh ho ho, Mochiiii I love this. Aight let's get into it.

These are NOT cannon to the story line.

Warnings: Yandere Headcannons ahead. If you are uncomfortable with these types of things, DO NOT READ. Proceed with caution, as I do not feel bad if you choose to do so while being warned.

MINORS, DNI.

~~~

Tokoyami- He was disappointed when you ran away but he didn't go all crazy. He just accepted that he'd have to find you again and make you see he wasn't as insane as the rest of them. But day after day, it became harder to be without you. His light... The star that lit up his night... He was upset. So so upset. So that one night when he saw you for the first time after a month, he didn't even try to hold Dark Shadow back as it reached for you, pulling you into his darkness for good.

Kirishima- Where are you Where are you Where are you, Where is his Pebble?! Kirishima would be tearing down the facility trying to find you. Finally figuring out you were gone, he would stop at nothing to get you back. What he didn't expect was for it to take a MONTH! So when he saw you jogging one night, his immediate instinct was to run. Run after you as fast as he could til he caught you. He hardened his arms and that's when you knew you never again could escape him.

Hawks- Oh baby bird~ Where did you run off to~ He practically sings as he searches for you. Once he figured out you ran, he wasn't too bothered. He was a mafia leader for fucks sake. As soon as he escaped, he had his people do some digging. Eventually they found your location and he set off. He found you taking a jog one night and without hesitation, he immediately swooped down and grabed you in his arms. Don't struggle, my baby bird. There's no where for you to run anymore.

Tamaki- Oh no. Nononononono. Bunny?! B-Bunny, where did you go?! He immediately had a panic attack when you left. How could you?! The only one who was ever nice to him, accepted him. You were his, he was yours. He had to find- H-he had to f-f-find you! But it took a month. A month without you. If he was insane before, he's a maniac now. So when he finally stumbled upon your jogging figure, it was instinct. It's almost like his body had a mind of it's own. Well... his tentacles, anyway.

Overhaul- Huh. That was weird. His little germ is...gone? Where did you go? You should be on your knees below him. But no, you weren't. It took him a whole month to find you, with the help of his followers. That's when he decided to pay you a little visit, waiting at your house til you came home from your jog. He threatened to kill every person in your neighborhood if you didn't come with him. You agreed with reluctance. And once again, he had you on your knees before him. This time, you weren't going anywhere.

Shoto- Y/N? Where'd you go? Poor boy is so lost. You left? Why? His eye twitches as he searches the facility for you but you were nowhere to be found. Did he do something? Why would you suddenly leave him? Did he scare you? For a month, he couldn't figure out why you left him. It haunted his every move. After he escaped, he walked the streets, nothing on his mind but you. So one night, when you took off for your routine jog, why were your feet suddenly encased in...ice?

Dabi- Oh, mouse wants to play a little game, hm? Well, guess he could be the cat in this game of tag with you. He is amused, to say the least. He enjoys games where he knows how the outcome will be. So the moment he sees you jogging down the street, he knew he won this game. You were shocked, to say the least, when a wall of blue flames block your path. But the shock turned into terror when you felt a hand tightly grip the back of your neck.

Bakugo- Where. THE FUCK. Did you go? He completely rips apart the facility trying to find you. And the moment he realizes he can't, all hell breaks loose. He's probably the reason the entire facility burnt to the ground. His angel, gone. No where to be found. What if something happened to you? What if someone hurt you? He wasn't going to stop til he found you. Well, it came as a shock to him when he found you perfectly healthy a month later, on your nightly jog. Within a split second, you hear explosions going off behind you and before you could react, your body was thrown to the ground, a growling blonde on top of you.

Denki- Sad pup. Very very sad pup. You left him?! Why?! He's such a fun person and would be an amazing boyfriend! He pouts around the facility, sparks crackling around him. Even more pouty when he couldn't find you. But he never gave up. He was finally able to escape and go searching for you. A month later, you think you're safe. So you leave the house to go for a jog. But you barely take 5 steps before a crackle of lightning hits the ground in front of you. Before you can turn around, you feel arms wrap around your middle and a shock runs through your body, before blacking out.

Midoriya- His darling left him and he is so very worried. Very worried. Are you hurt? Were you scared of him? Did...did someone take you for themselves? He investigates every person in the facility but no one had you. Day after day, his mind gets worse. His worries increase. So, about a month later, when he actually finds you outside? He can't help but let out a squeal of glee. He's fast, very very fast. The next thing you know, you're tackled to the ground in a tight embrace. And god... is it TIGHT.

Shinso- Oh, kitten. You made a very. Very. Bad decision. He doesn't know HOW you got away from him in the first place but he WILL bring you back. The longer it takes to find you, the angrier he becomes. After a month of nothing, he was finally, FINALLY able to locate you with his connections. You think you're out for a late night jog? Well, when you hear your friends voice call to you, you didn't expect your mind to be wiped clean. All you can see is him step in front of you with a manic grin. But you can't do anything. No movement, no noise. Nothing except silent tears falling down your cheeks.

~~~

Read the story these headcannons are based off HERE!

~~~

All works are mine (bakuhoes-dumbass), do not copy or repost anywhere.

#these were fun to imagine #enjoy #mochi🍑#liz.ask #abberation #hc #yandere mha #yandere tokoyami #yandere hawks #yandere midoriya #yandere todoroki #yandere bakugou #yandere dabi #yandere tamaki #yandere overhaul #yandere kaminari #yandere kirishima

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little-fics · 3 years

Text

glass

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: you break a plate on accident, your daddy and uncle Dean come to the rescue.

Warnings: age regression, broken plate, triggered reader, hints at abuse, blood, cut, anxiety/panic attack, I could've missed some so please babies, read at your own risk

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: really like this oneeeee, thanks for reading lovelies <3

You're walking through the kitchen, minding your own business, and you collide with the sharp corner of the table. The plate resting in your hand hit the floor, shattering. In a split second you're panicking, the sound of broken glass reminding you too much of your bad days.

Memories flooding through your head, voices booming all around you. You're looking at your hands, the slippery culprits now shaking like a leaf. Your vision is spotty, lungs burning, air barely coming in, face losing feeling soon. Your eyes move to the shattered ceramic, overflowing with tears now. You realize the 'mistake' you've made and start clumsily shuffling around. You're picking up the biggest pieces, placing them as soft as you can in your hand.

Sam instantly heard the plate break, immediately jumping up from his chair in the library. He was rushing to you, and when he arrived in the doorway, he takes in your rattling body. Your breaths are choked, whole body racking as you're picking up pieces of glass? Sam instantly rushed over to you, kneeling in front of you, "You with me baby?" A hand coming up inches away from the hand holding the pieces of glass, his other coming around to your shoulder.

As you're picking up a piece Sam places a hand on your shoulder and under your hand holding the glass as gently as possible, but it still scares you. You let out a loud gasp, clenching your hands together, another sob coming out of you, "I-I'm sorry-" He lifts you from your squatting position, pulling your legs around his waist. He's rubbing your back, whispering in your ear as he carried you, "Shhh, my little baby, nothing to be sorry about, you're okay, it's okay." You're sobbing, shaking, mumbling ''m sorry' over and over, you can't open your eyes, you're just stuck gripping onto him and struggling to breathe between broken sobs.

He sits you on the counter next to the sink, your legs and arms still around him. "Hey, baby," he's trying to reach you in your thoughts, "baby, can you look at me?" He's rubbing your back, feeling the wetness grow on his back, knowing he needed to check it. After about fifteen seconds, he decided he had to check your hand. He brought his hands to your ears, taking a deep breath and turning his head as far away from you as possible, "Dean!" His voice was dripping with fear and concern. Your body jolted when he did so, and he felt it, instantly consoling you, "Oh I know, daddy was so loud and it was scary. I know baby."

Dean does into the room, hearing your cries echoing through the room as he sees the back of Sam's shirt covered in blood that's coming from your hand? He's rushing over to you, softly speaking to you, his hand hovering over your wrist, "Hey, little one, wanna let Uncle Dean see your hand for a minute?" He gently grabs your wrist, slowly leading your away from Sam's neck.

You're starting to calm down, Sam's scent engulfing you, his words bringing you back to him. "It's okay bug, I now it's scary but daddy's here. Take a deep breath for me, come on." You're trying to follow along to him, Dean pulling your arm away from him bringing some feeling back into your arm. Your breathing is still scattered, but doesn't burn as bad, Sam's voice coming in clearer as you hear the water coming on. "You feel my hand on your back sweetness?" He makes big circles on your back, applying the slightest amount of pressure. You enjoy it for a moment, trying to take good breaths for your daddy, then nod to him. "You think you can tell me what letter I'm making?" You nod again, "Okay, remember to keep focusing on what I'm writing yeah?" Another nod, and as he starts drawing lines on your back water hits your hand causing you to let out a small cry and jerk your hand away from Dean.

"Hey, baby, you gotta let Dean make sure you're okay," his other hand is enclosing your face, kisses planting on top of your head, trying and succeeding in wrapping you in his love. He continues, "Focus on my hand baby, what letter is daddy drawing?" Dean's hand touching your wrist barely registers as you focus on the letter. You hiss at the water rushing over your hand again, shaking your head at Sam, letting him know you don't know the letter. "Okay, let me do it again," he traces two exaggerated lines on your back, forming a L. "What letter baby?" He is wiping away some stray tears as you choke out, "L."

Sam hums happily, "Such a good, smart girl, it was L!" His voice is soft and soothing, Deans movements on your hand becoming a little more noticeable as you start to breathe better. "Ready for the next one?" You nod keeping your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. He traces a circle on your back, then a line, you shrug not sure, a little too distract by the thump thump thump of his heart. "Circle," he traces a circle, "and a line," he traces the line, repeating the letter once more. Your voice is wavering, not confident in yourself, "a?"

He rubs your back gently, delivering kisses where he can reach, "So smart! Let's see if we can get another, yeah?" You nod, Sam sensing the small amount of eagerness and feeling relieved that you're starting to get back to being his happy little girl. He starts a point at the top of your back, drawing straight down and circling back. I know that one, you thought happily. Your heart skips a beat, excited to show your daddy how smart you are. "That one's d!"

Sam smiles even though you can't see him, knowing that you're gonna be okay. He's been watching Dean, wanting to make sure you were okay. It was a long cut but not deep, spreading across the inside of your fingers. Fingers bleed bad, and look scarier than they are. "Okay, okay, you're too good at this!" A small nuzzle into his chest from you, the praise pleasing your tiny headspace. He traces a v with a tail on your back, causing you to giggle, "I know the word!" He chuckled, "There's more!" He see's your brows furrow in consideration before speaking solemnly, "Okay, papa, write it."

His heart swelled, his perfect baby makes him feel magic running through his veins. He traced, another vertical like and circle, opposite from the d, and you bounced on the counter. "Yes, daddy! I know it!" He glances at Dean, who is putting small gauze and tape over the slices on your fingers, Dean focused on his task, but smiling at you and Sam. Sam speaks softly, but with admiration, "Ya hear that Uncle Dean? My girls got it!" Dean's voice dripping excitement, "Well I don't know what it is! Tell me what it is sweet pea!"

"Issa ladybug right?" Sam quickly litters kisses all over your face and shoulders. Your arm moved around his waist, face burying into him as he makes you blush with his words, "Genius baby! So smart and perfect, did so good!" You're giggling at him, Dean letting go of your hand, "All patched up sweetheart. You wanna come with me and watch some toons while daddy cleans up?" You squeeze to Sam, not wanting to let go, causing his heart to break a little. "Baby, Daddy's got some blood-" you try to raise your head but he stops you, "Little girls are too small to see things like that, right angel?" You blush, nodding, "Yes, daddy."

"Good girl, now I need you to keep your eyes closed while Dean grabs you, real tight 'til he says okay?" You nod, placing tiny kisses on his chest. Dean reaches for you, your eyes close real, real tight. Dean takes Sam's place, moving you to the other side of the sink. Sam's hand didn't come off your back, gliding with Dean. "Good girl," he butterfly kisses your nose consistently, letting you return it with a giggle. "He's gonna clean your hand, and I'm gonna go clean up." He kisses your forehead and you whine when you feel him leave.

Dean is quickly rinsing off the dried blood on your other arm that transferred from your other hand as he shushes you, "I know bug, just a second." After he finishes, he prepares to lift you, speaking softly, "Keep those eyes shut darlin'." When you nod, he lifts you, carrying you out of the kitchen, careful to avoid the plate and blood in the floor. You feel him lean, but keep your eyes closed, clinging to him tightly. He straightens back up and walks you to the tv room, sitting on the couch softly.

"Alright baby," he tapped your shoulder twice with a feather tap, "open up." You lift your head, greeted with Deans wide smile and a lavender beaded pacifier in his hand. You hummed excitedly, bouncing up and whining slightly when he didn't give it to you. He puts it against your lips, your mouth happily taking it in and sucking on it, laying back down on him.

After no more than ten minutes, you're squirming. You want your daddy, not uncle Dean. "Peanut," Dean sighs, "daddy's coming, give him a minute, yeah?" You whine, fussing a bit, Dean stands with you, pushing your head into his neck. He starts pacing the room with you, bouncing you slightly. You're still squirming a little, trying to escape his grasp. "Wan' papa," you whisper, Dean feels a tear slip onto his shoulder and he's shushing you. "He's coming baby, he's gotta get real clean! You don't like when daddy's stinky do you?" You giggle a little, shaking your head, "No stinky papa." Dean coos at you, "That's right little girl, daddy needs to get to smelling good again, doesn't he?" That elicits a heavier laugh from you, tucking yourself back into his neck.

Around ten minutes after that, Sam walks in, holding a pair of rainbow leggings and one of his t-shirts. His hand comes to your back, nodding you out of your sleepy state, and you're instantly reaching for his arms. "Papa," your hands find his shoulders to support yourself while you transfer arms. "I know baby," he's holding you now, but it's short lived when he gently sets you on the couch. You're whining and whimpering, reaching out to him, being careful not to squeeze your sore little fingers. He shakes his head, "No baby, don't you wanna get these uncomfy clothes off of you?" When he says that you realize how tight the clothes you're wearing are, how rough they feel against your skin. You're suddenly squirming, pulling at your clothes messily.

"Oh little girl, arms up now." He's speaking softly but sternly, causing you to stop moving and lift your arms. He picks up your shirt, lifting it up over your face and back down, making silly faces at you repetitively, "Where my baby?" the shirt is covering your face, "There she is!" He moves the shirt out of the way again, only stopping when your giggles die down. He slides his shirt on you, it was a little oversized on him, it swallows you. You're bunching it in your hands, whining when he pulls down your rough blue jeans. He slides the leggings on, the soft, stretchy material making you kick your legs playfully.

Once the leggings are all the way up, Sam grabs your ankles, laughing at you, "Oh! Daddy's got you now little ladybug, what you gonna do?" You giggle at him, a blessed sound to Sam and Dean, twisting your body in unnatural ways to try and escape the mean ankle monster. "Papaaaa," you kick your legs a little seriously, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows, a test telling you that you know better than to hit your daddy. "Pease papa, jus' wan' you hol' me." You reach your arms up and Sam's heart melts.

He tickles up your legs, grazing your sides, causing you to twist and turn again, before he's lifting you by your underarms, putting you around his waist. Dean comes in, you're not sure when he left, but he's got your favorite spaceship sippy cup and your reaching for it. He laughs, handing it to you as Sam sits with you. "I thought we could watch Tink, you wanna watch Tink peanut?" You nod at Dean, he presses a kiss to your cheek and plays the movie, Sam letting you adjust so you can watch the television.

Despite your sore hand, it was going to be a good day with your daddy and uncle Dean. They know when you need extra attention, know when you're gonna be their little baby and they wouldn't change it for the world. They just wish that you wouldn't have regressed this way, forced by a trigger violently. They know you're hurting so they're gonna be by your side all day long.

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bajisbabe · 3 years

Text

[author’s note] song slap hard ASF, song so good it pisses me off—🎼😡 y’all better listen to it, too

# ‘CAUSE I WANT YOU TOO

“If you say I’m on your mind, you gon’ need to spend more time to prove it.”

drunk-ex!baji comes to your home

warnings: kissing, drunk!Baji, arguing, Baji is kind of mean, cussing, Baji is 23 here, angst ig.

synopsis: Your ex, Baji, gets drunk and comes over. You try to turn him away because you’re afraid to admit that he wasn’t at fault for the breakup, but he doesn’t leave.

song: say it (mashup) by tory lanez and sevyn streeter

You hadn’t thought twice when opening the door. It was late in the night, and you just wanted to answer the door and get it over with; to stop the loud banging that just wouldn’t go away. You turn on the table lamp near the couch as you make your way into the living room. Tucking yourself into a robe, you turned the knob and opened the door, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you asked groggily, “Who is it—?”

Long hair, yellow eyes, and bruised knuckles with a hair tie around the wrist. Your ex, Baji Keisuke.

For a split second, you wondered what you should do. But without thinking it through, you clutched the door and attempted to slam it in his face. But he shoved his foot in the door, smiling lopsidedly at you as he pressed in further. He gradually worked his way into your home with ease.

You felt a strange sense of fear in your stomach. You hadn’t seen Baji in months after your breakup. Although he argued with you when you two broke up, he hadn’t bothered to contact you since. You thought he had moved on, but here he was. Stumbling into your living room and taking a seat on the couch, his head lolling as he let out an obnoxiously loud sigh.

You watched him for what felt like an entirety, subconsciously flinching whenever he made a move. You thought to call the police, but to get your phone you would have to make your way past him. And you didn’t have the guts to try.

He took a moment to glance around your apartment, looking somewhat confused. You vaguely remember having thrown out quite a few items when the two of you split, so your place must have looked different to him now.

He slowly turned his attention to you, his expression blank as his eyes raked over your face. He mumbled something under his breath as he took a swig from the beer bottle that you hadn’t noticed before. It was practically empty, as he shook the last couple of drops from it into his mouth. Your brows furrowed, you never knew Baji to be much of a drinker. He let out a burp, smiling at you when he finally noticed that you had been watching him the entire time.

“Miss me?” He said.

You slowly shook your head, backing up a couple steps. But there was nowhere to go. You were inches away from colliding with the front door. And you didn’t even think of running, knowing that he could easily catch up with you even in a drunken state.

“Baji,” you started firmly, trying your damnedest to remain cordial. “I think you should leave.”

“Oh, you think?” He spat, turning and twisting the bottle in his hand. Watching with vague interest how the dim light catches on the glass. “That’s funny.” He lets out a crude chuckle, glaring at you.

You merely stared back at him, not sure of what to say. You two didn’t end on good terms, that’s for sure.

“Did’ja think when you broke up with me for no—fucking—reason?” He punctuates each word with a tap of the butt of his beer bottle on the armrest of your couch. “Hmm, (Y/N)?”

“Baji, please.” You frowned, crossing your arms and trying to appear unafraid. But your hands are shaking like crazy. “You should just go—”

“S’not my name.” He mumbles. He looks at you again. But this time, there is no malicious glint in his eyes. He is merely looking at you and nothing more. Not glaring, or leering. Just looking. “You know that’s not m’name.”

“Yes, it is.” You say quietly. “That is your name. And now, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, please—”

“Just stop it.” He says. He stands slowly, noticing immediately the way your shoulders hunch and you put your hands up as though you expect him to attack. He frowns at the sight, sucking his teeth as he approaches you steadily. “You know that’s not my name. You know my name… just say it.”

His large hand comes up to cup your face, you pull away. Your fingers fidgeting as you hesitate, thinking that you should push him away. Not that he would budge even if you did.

“Please, (Y/N).” His voice is soft and low. And he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. You haven’t seen those eyes—and that look—in so damn long. “Please.”

“Baji, you need to leave.”

“That’s not my name and you know it.” There’s a subtle bite in his tone, but his eyes are still soft. “Now, could you please just say it?”

“Baji,” you breath, clasping your hands in a pathetic attempt not to lose your cool. “I’m asking you to leave—”

“M’not leavin’ ‘til you gimme what I want.” He reaches forward, much faster than you can comprehend. You sputter and grab hold of his wrists, trying to pull him off of you. But he doesn’t waver. His palms squeezing your cheeks, a subtle ache in your jaw at the sudden pressure. “Scratch that, I wanna kiss. Gimme a kiss.”

You try to pull back, but he merely follows you. His lips closing in on yours while you shake your head, eyes blown wide as you desperately yank his arms. “Stop it! Baji, stop it!”

You felt scared. You had never felt this way with Baji before. Somewhere, in the deepest depths of your mind, you were terrified that he would win you over yet again. That’s the last thing you wanted. You and him broke up because you became known as his girlfriend and nothing more. His personality and presence was so big that it completely swallowed yours.

You just wanted to be your own person. And he didn’t understand that then. You didn’t expect him to understand now either. So you never bothered to mention it, not even during the argument that ended your relationship.

You had left him without a spoken reason.

“S’Keisuke. Not Baji… You know that.” He says quietly, his lips a breath away from yours, your head still trapped between his calloused hands. “Kiss me. Do it now.”

“Get off of me,” you cry.

You should’ve run. You know you should’ve. You should’ve at least tried. But you didn’t. Your thoughts ran rampant, and you found that your own subconscious was ruthlessly blaming you for this situation. Thinking that you didn’t really want to break up with Baji, and that you just came up with a reason out of the blue. Baji was a good boyfriend, after all. But it was more so about how you felt like an accessory to him, rather than an equal.

He was just so important, and popular, and—just everything.

You knew it wasn’t his fault. You just needed some time to yourself to figure out who you were, and it ended up being months rather than a mere break. Now that you knew your worth, you didn’t have the guts to come back to him and tell him how you really felt. You didn’t have the guts to bring a genuine conclusion to it.

You had unknowingly hurt yourself by not voicing your opinion. And you didn’t know it yet, but you also hurt him just as much by ending your relationship without spoken reason. The more you thought about it, the sicker you felt. You just wanted him out of your home, so that you had a second to think before you made a decision you would regret.

“What’s your problem!” You shout, squirming in his grasp. “You’re drunk! Just go home!”

“Yeah?” He bites back. “Duh! And guess whose fault that is?”

You blink, your struggling momentarily halted. Whose fault…?

“S’yours, if you’re wondering.” His voice is quieter than before. His eyes are boring into yours. “I don’t drink—didn’t. Not ‘til…” He trails off, but you know what he’s getting at. And your heart shatters at the realization.

He notices your expression, it’s conflicted but he misunderstands. From his perspective, your blank stare is degrading; like you’re looking down on him. He doesn’t like that at all.

“Like you’re doing any better!” He says, eyes narrowing. “You’ve got problems too, I can see it!”

You don’t dare to speak, knowing that you might say something that’ll only make matters worse.

“You don’t think I saw that shit?” He says, glaring at you. He tugs you just a little closer and you feel your resolve crack some in return. “The way you flinched—like I was gonna hurt you or something. I wouldn’t do that, you know that!”

“Just stop it!” You rasp, your hands clutching his.

God, you don’t want to blurt out the real reason behind your breakup. After hearing the shit he’s put himself through, you don’t have the guts to tell him that it was nothing he did that caused the breakup.

Tears are brimming in your eyes as you stare back at his frowning face. “Stop it, Kei—”

There’s a moment of silence. So silent that your ears ring. He is no longer looking at you with that hard expression. His eyes are wide, brows raised, lips down-turned almost in a pout but not quite. “Kei?” He repeats quietly under his breath, eyes lingering on your face. He can feel your skin warm under his touch. And the brief sound of your name on his tongue has his heart beating hard. “Go on… Say it.”

“Don’t wanna,” your lips tug down, the backs of your eyes burning. You were gonna cry.

“Say it,” he releases his grip on your face. His hand comes up to wrap around the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing over your skin. He can even feel your pulse thrumming beneath the flesh. “Say it, and I’ll go… Promise.”

You don’t believe him and rightfully so. You shouldn’t believe him. And even still, you find his name rolling off your tongue. You think at the very least, you can give him that. After your breakup caused him so much hurt, and you still hadn’t given him a good reason.

“Again,” he whispers. His eyes never leave yours. “Say it again.”

“I can’t—”

“You can.” He presses, his grip tightening. You can feel him pulling you in; pulling you closer.

“Please, Baji—”

“You know my name.” He says, his voice lacking the strength from before. “S’only been a couple of months, you couldn’t have forgotten already.”

You see the sad look in his eyes and you break. Repeating his name just like he asked of you. And you don’t even get a chance to tell him the real reason behind your breakup as he places a chaste kiss on your lips.

Just one, then two, then three. Each longer than the last. And his grip is so strong that you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to. But you don’t want to, and he knows it.

He pulls away slowly, his eyes racking over your face again. He looks at you like he’s afraid he’ll forget what you look like. Or that if he looks away, you’ll disappear.

And he knows he’s being selfish by asking you again and again. But he can’t stop himself, having not heard your voice in months. His teeth biting at his lower lip as he runs his tongue over the flesh, trying to remember your taste.

“Can you…” he pauses, knowing damn well that he’s being selfish and stringing you back in. He knows he’s gonna win you over. He just knows it because he knows you. And he just can’t bring himself to stop. “Can you say it...just one more time?”

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji x reader #baji imagines #baji headcanons #keisuke x reader #baji keisuke imagines #cw kissing #cw drunk #cw alcohol #cw angst #baji x you #baji x y/n #keisuke baji x y/n #keisuke baji x reader

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ahtsumu · 4 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

reidsnose · 3 years

Text

Young and Beautiful

overview: spencer and reader spend the day together and feel like little kids again

genre: fluff

a/n: ok i think this concept is so cute but i feel like i wrote it dumb LMAO but its fine i'm excited tho lmk if y'all like it at all :)

masterlist

the setting sun peaked through the trees as you and Spencer walked around aimlessly. it wasn't often that you had days off, let alone enough to spend together. and the city was curiously empty, the usual bustle of the day having died down by evening. most people are itching to go home on a random Wednesday night.

"i really don't like the look of those clouds y/n." Spencer warned, pointing towards a large, dark gray cloud.

"i already told you i checked the weather and they said no rain!" you countered, though you had to admit the cloud looked pretty hefty. "it will probably just pass us over."

he hummed a hesitant agreement and carried on with the conversation you two were having. you looked around as the two of you talked, taking in the peace of the moment. the light breeze, the the hum of distant cars as you neared a park, the way the sunlight sparkled in Spencer's eyes as he talked, a golden tint covering the world around you.

he watched you soaking up the beauty around you, wondering if you ever saw your own. you were truly the most beautiful person alive. inside and out. he smiled to himself as your eyes lingering on the empty playground.

"you wanna go to the playground?" he asked, your eyes lighting up.

"is that weird? like were fully adults why is that twisty slide calling my name?" you giggled.

in a surge of confidence, he grabbed your hand and started running towards the playground with you, the rouge on your cheeks masked by the flush of a quick run. when he was around you, he felt like a kid again. you did too.

you tried not to think about how your hand tingled from holding his. it was only a couple of seconds and probably meant nothing, but you couldn't shed that wonderful feeling.

you guys raced to the slide, giggling like a bunch of school kids at recess. he beat you to the twisty slide, climbing quickly to the top and sliding down head first right off the end. you followed immediately after, arms stretched in front of you like superman and landing on the floor next to him.

"God, this reminds me of making a 'best friend' every time i went to the playground as a kid," you laughed, standing up and offering him a hand.

"cant say i relate to that," he chuckled, grabbing your outstretched hand and hoisting himself off the ground, sending a surge of electricity through his veins.

"oh come on! you never met another kid at the park and you two swore to be best friends forever and then never saw each other again?"

"nope," he replied, popping the p, "i didn't go to the playground much when i was little, nor was i the most sociable kid."

"hmm..." you hummed, "well i think you need to experience that."

he chuckled, but this time it was your turn to grab his hand and lead him somewhere. you two ran to get under the jungle gym, his long legs struggling to fit underneath.

"what are we doing under here?" he laughed, grunting as he pulled on his legs so he could sit criss cross.

"you're making your first ever playground best friend." you answered simply, sticking out your pinky. "do you...state your full name.."

"Spencer Walter Reid." he laughed, looping his pinky with yours.

"do you Spencer Walter Reid pinky promise that we will be best friends forever and ever?" you asked, trying hard to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

"i do." he answered, shaking your intertwined pinkies up and down after he was met with silence.

"ok now ask me," you whispered.

"do you...state your full name.." he echoed.

"y/f/n." you giggled.

"do you y/f/n pinky promise that we will be best friends forever and ever?" he asked, stifling a smile.

"i do." you answered, pinkies still linked in front of you.

"ok now what?" he whispered.

"by the power vested in me by this playground, i now pronounce us best friends forever. we may now kiss our thumbs." you announced.

he laughed confused and you both leaned in, pecking your own thumbs on the pinky promise hand, only the distance of your linked hands between your lips.

he blurted a fact on the history of kissing, how it was used in the olden days to seal the deal. he also mentioned how all the pinky promises he's ever done never involved him kissing his thumb, you laughed and said that it must be a Vegas thing.

you two used just about every piece of playground equipment, truly feeling like little kids again. giggling and screaming and being immature, your inner children completely taking over.

a clap of thunder interrupted you two while taking turns jumping off of the swings. your eyes grew wide as you looked at each other, recalling how you swore it wasn't going to rain.

just as you opened your mouth to say it still might not rain, it started absolutely pouring. the both of you were drenched in seconds, grabbing haphazardly onto eachothers hands and breaking out into a sprint, running as fast as both of you could in the direction of Spencer's apartment (which was much closer than yours).

but he did not have the long distance endurance, and to be honest neither did you and after a few minutes of running, you guys were still about half a mile away, huffing and puffing and soaking wet.

Spencer wasn't sure if most of his breath was lost from running, or from holding onto you this long. maybe a mix of both?

"lets just walk! were soaked already so who cares!" he shouted over the pitter patter of the storm, still hand and hand with you.

"who are you and what have you done with Spencer," you laughed, lifting your joined hands above you and twirling underneath.

he only chuckled a response, this time he lifted your intertwined hands allowing you to twirl again, humming a classical piece horribly off key.

the two of you started dancing down the sidewalk, spinning and jumping and swaying and leaping and laughing til you could barely stand. his lanky limbs flying left and right as you took turns humming different styles of music, even opting for an Irish jig at one point. and all in the pouring rain.

this was arguably the most fun either of you had ever had and we all know what happens to time when you're enjoying yourself. before you knew it you guys had arrived at his apartment.

water dripped from the both of you as you ran up the stairs, slipping and sliding all over the place.

"let me give you some of my clothes to change into so you don't have to drive home all soaked," he offered, unlocking the door and beckoning you to come inside.

"thanks bestie," you giggled, suppressing a shiver as you stepped inside.

he grabbed two towels, handing you one as you followed him into his room and watched him searching his dresser for something to give you.

he gave you a pair of sweatpants and told you to pick any sweater you wanted, causing you both to turn a deep shade of red as you realized you were sharing clothes.

he grabbed some clothes for himself and went to go change in the bathroom, letting you use his bedroom for more privacy. it was always the little things he did for you that made your heart burst.

you pulled his sweater over your head, taking in the smell of him that lingered on it. you smiled to yourself as you did, realizing you're already close enough with him to recognize it.

you finished changing and walked out of his room, seeing him reading on his couch, lounging in comfy clothes.

the sight of you in his clothes left him speechless, he imagined if you two were dating this might be a common occurrence. he shook his head of the thought and stood up as you offered him a smile, grabbing your keys off of the counter.

"thank you for today Spencer, it was.." you looked up at him trying not to get lost in his eyes, "..so much fun."

"thank you for making me feel like a kid again, there aren't many people who can do that. i don't know what i would do without you" he smiled, stepping slightly closer to you.

you couldn't believe your ears, or what was about to come toppling out of your mouth. he was just being so sweet and sentimental, your brain short circuited.

"love you forever." you blurted, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

to your surprise (and delight), he stuck out his pinky, which you gladly looped with your own.

"love you more." he professed, leaning in to kiss his thumb.

him admitting this gave you an incredible rush of confidence and as you both went in to seal the deal of the pinky promise, you tightened your pinky with his and pulled your hands down, pecking his lips with your own.

it was a quick kiss but you still felt like you were on top of the world.

Spencer barely had time to process what had happened before it was already over. he couldn't believe it. the perfect kiss with the most perfect girl and he nearly missed it.

he pulled you back for one more, slightly longer kiss, just to make sure. you both smiled into it, floating around on cloud nine.

you pulled away and smiled widely at his lovesick face before giving a small wave and walking out the door, scampering down the stairs and out to your parked car.

he snapped out of his daze and ran to the window, waving goodbye to you with the worlds dopiest smile on his face. it dropped suddenly as he realized he never truly asked you out on a date.

"y/n!" he called from the window. you looked back up at him and waved, "do you wanna go out this weekend?"

you laughed before calling back at him, "its a date!"

ultra mega super cool taglist

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc @sydnee-kom-spacekru

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introvert-pansexual · 3 years

Note

Aot girls (like and veterans and warriors girls) needing your attention

THEM STEALING YOUR ATTENTION.

MASTERLIST | GENDER NEUTRAL S/O

summary : this is how they try to steal your attention.

characters : hange zoë, annie leonhart, sasha braus, mikasa ackerman, ymir, historia reiss

━ hange

a sigh escaped your lips, as you were in a middle of finishing a certain paper work, causing you to be stuck in your room almost the entire day. you were so lost in the pile of papers, you didn't even noticed the door to your room opening, as the glasses-wearing brunette sneaked inside, missing and needing your attention, after the long day of barely seeing each other.

gasping, when you felt two long arms sneak around your shoulders, you looked to the side, just to calm down, after realising it was your parnter, hange. "what's wrong, hange?" you raised an eyebrow, continue to fill up the papers even with hange clinging onto you.

"the fact we haven't seen each other the entire day." hange whined, as they hid their face in the crook of your neck. "i promise i'll be with you the second i finish these papers." you ruffled their already messy hair, with one of your hands, while the other one remained writing.

"but what if i want you to give me attention now?" raising an eyebrow, hange slightly pulled your back into their chest. "hange just let me finish these, alright?" you quietly groaned, turning to fully face them.

nodding at your words, hange grabbed your chin, as you thought they were gonna just quickly peck your lips, but that wasn't the case. as the kiss got more heated, hange's hands roamed all over you, causing you to reliase what were they trying to do. "no, hange." pulling away, you gave them a warning glare, making them to whine once more. "fine, i'll wait." hange sat down on the couch not too far away from your desk, patiently waiting, causing you to softly chuckle and continue your paper work.

━ annie

enjoying your dinner, you continued to peacfully eat the food in the half empty mess hall, sitting alone by the table, waiting for your girlfriend to arrive and eat her food with you and maybe few of your friends to join you.

surprisingly annie was the first one and the only one to join you, while you softly smiled her way, as a way of greeting her, while she murmured small "hi.", before shifting closer to you in her seat. you didn't think much of it, when your and annie's shoulders brushed against each other's, yet you couldn't help, but wonder, if something's wrong, as annie's usually the type to keep her space.

not wanting to tease her about it, the two of you continued to eat you dinner in a comfortbale silence. "i'm gonna go now." you announced, standing up from your seat, causing annie to do the same. "yeah, me too." grabbing her tray, annie placed it where it belonged, as you paitiently waited for her by the entrance.

neither of you said a word, while making your way towards the barracks, with no one else being around. the corners of your lips twitched into a small smile, as you moved your hand towards annie's and hooked your pinky around hers, causing her to look down for a second, a small tint blush appearing on her cheeks.

it didn't took you too long to reliase, why annie's was awfully close to you the entire day, yet you couldn't complain, as you loved giving your lovely girlfriend attention, even though if it was just holding hands perhpas.

━ sasha

you were standing by the training grounds, watching others train, with arms crossed over your chest, as you were taking a smaller break and waiting for your turn to train once again.

from the corner of your eye, you could see a brunette walking up towards to you, while you held back your smile. "y/n!" calling out, sasha waved her hand in the air, as she was almost standing next to you. "hey, sasha." you turned your head to the side, softly smiling at her.

without saying a word, sasha spread her arms, as she gave you her best puppy dog eyes, causing you to playfully roll your eyes at her rather childish behavior. you obvisouly didn't wanna decline sasha's hug, so you also opened your arms, waiting for her.

sasha, not wasting any time, crushed right into you, as her arms rested around your waist, with her cheek placed on your chest, while you sneaked your arms around her frame. slightly leaning back, you gently kissed sasha's temple, while the two of you watched everyone else train, not caring if someone was looking at the two of you.

"braus! l/n! do what are you supposed to do or else i'm making you run laps 'til the end of the day!" shouting shadis made the two of you push the other one immediately away, not wanting to run laps. both you and sasha looked at each other, snickering, while you got ready to train again.

━ mikasa

you and others from training corps were currently walking around the markets and enjoying the peaceful day, which was not full of tiring trainings for once in a long time. most of you separated into smaller groups, as you stayed with armin, eren and most importantly mikasa.

walking behind armin and eren, as the two of them talked about every strange or weird thing they saw all around the place, you and mikasa walked behind them in mostly comfortbale silence, adoring the certain things your gaze landed on.

you didn't even noticed mikasa stepping closer to you, causing your shoulders to brush against each other, which you couldn't mind less. feeling your hand being gently grabbed by mikasa's, you looked down at your hands, before looking up at her.

"hm?" you slightly furrowed your eyebrows, as asking if anything's wrong, but mikasa just assuringly smiled at you, as the heat in her cheeks risened, causing your heart to flutter at the lovely gesture. intertwining your fingers with mikasa's, you gave her hand a little squeeze, which she returned, before the two continue to walk through the markets, hand in hand.

━ ymir

sitting on your bed, you were struggling with fixing the stripes for your odm gear, which you managed to ruin a little bit earlier this morning. groaning in annoyance, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, ignoring someone making their way towards you.

weight being added on the other side of the bed behind you were sitting on, made your head quickly snap around, checking who decided to join you. "what's bothering you so much?" ymir raised an eyebrow, sitting down on your bed. "what else would it be, ymir." rolling your eyes, you raised the still messed up stripes in the air.

"well maybe you can stop paying attention to that thing and instead pay attention to me." ymir dramatically placed her hand on her chest, causing you to sigh and close your eyes for few seconds.

"i need to fix these- ah!" a yelp escaped your lips, when two arms quickly sneaked around your waist and dragged you down, causing you to drop the stripes in process. somehow, ymir managed to get on top of you, as she laid on you with her full weight, holding you down.

"ymir-" groaning, you tried to push her off you, but failed. ignoring your protesting, ymir buried her face into your chest, her arms tightly around your frame, as your legs were strangely tangled together. "now you're paying attention to me." ymir bluntly explained, causing you to sigh in defeat, before you started to gently stroke her back, realising you have no other choice, than cuddle ymir.

━ historia

coming back from the mess hall into the surprisingly empty barracks, after a dinner, you threw yourself onto your messy bed, a tired sigh escaping your lips. you were so lost in your own thoughts you didn't noticed someone walking in and towards the bed you were laying in.

"hi, historia. need something?" you covered your eyes with the back of your hand, as historia continued to stand next to your bed. "i was wondering if i can lay down with you for a little while." at her words, the corners of your lips twitched into a small smile.

shifting in the bed, you made a space for historia, who laid down next to you with beaming smile on her face. you and historia were now laying on your sides, facing each other in a comfortbale silence.

reaching your hand forward, you brushed a strand of her blonde locks behind her ear, causing her smile to grow even more. you could stare in historia's eyes for the entire night, but isntead you leaned in, kissing the top of her nose and then her forehead, as historia softly giggled at your gentle and tender kisses.

getting herself comfortable, historia rested her head on your chest, while you continued to stroke her hair with one of your hands, each other's pressence being enough to please the both of you.

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inkykeiji · 4 years

Text

day two ❅ cause i’m mrs. snow, til death we’ll be freezing

don’t cry snowman, don’t leave me this way, a puddle of water can’t hold me close, baby

day one ❅ day two ❅ day three | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: weeee yay day two!! touya + co go ice skating :) this, again, was not supposed to be as long as it is, but eh here we are!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), drug use, very rough sex, public sex, generally toxic relationships, size difference, tense family dynamics, reader’s probably a lil too obsessed with touya’s cum, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 8.3k

synopsis:

I’m only worried about you, you want to say. It isn’t your intention to put more stress on him, especially when being forced to spend nearly every waking minute around his blood siblings is evidently very difficult for him, but you don’t want him dead because of it, either.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

But he doesn’t need to hear you say it, he can feel it—in the air around you, radiating off your frame in thick waves that crash into him in the most pleasant way; in the way your soft fingertips stroke his cheeks, tracing his features with the utmost gentleness; in the way you gaze so tenderly at him, eyes sweeping across his face akin to the most compassionate caress.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

The wind howls gently, picking up swirls of snow and dusting it against the window, the snowflakes soft taptaptap’s echoing among the tiny bedroom. It’s grey but bright outside, the morning of December 22nd. Strands of hair stick to your cheeks and neck, chills erupting across your skin as you wiggle around beneath Touya’s heavy arm, laying across your waist in a loose grasp, your movements causing the blanket to slip from your clammy skin, a soft hiss spit through your teeth as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin. Touya’s got his head buried in the pillow, his torso laying half on top of yours, legs intertwined.

“Touya-nii,” you whimper, eyebrows furrowing a little in frustration as you struggle under him. “Niichan,”

“Mmph,” he emits an unintelligible noise in response, muffled by the pillow.

“Niichaaaaan,” the honorific leaves your lips in a whine, giving another weak shove at his arm. “Niichan, you’re so hot, I’m gonna melt,”

“Too bad. We’re not getting up yet,”

You whine again, your squirming becoming more vigorous. “But Touya-nii, I’m so thirsty! Please, my mouth is drier than the desert, I swear to God,”

“If you don’t stop acting like a brat, I’m gonna fuck you like a brat,”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

That gets his attention, fluffy head shooting up, white tufts tousled and standing on end, sleepy eyes squinting against the sudden light as he tries to glare at you. “Excuse me?”

The deep, rough lilt to his voice, heavy with sleep, makes your stomach flutter, blood rushing to your cheeks as you gaze at him.

Even in the morning, he’s stupidly beautiful.

“G-Got you up,” you giggle a little, reaching forward to run your fingers through his messy hair, smoothing it down in the process.

He deadpans, glaring at you for a moment, though there’s no heat in his eyes. You stare back, blinking twice, little fingers trailing down the side of his face and then tracing his jaw, murmuring about how pretty he is.

“Pretty, huh?” he finally sighs, a small grin spreading across his cheeks, head tilting to the side as your fingers travel down his neck, tracing the intricate black ink.

“Mm, very pretty,” you whisper to yourself, eyes zeroing in on his adams apple as it bobs with his chuckle. “But I’m still thirsty,”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up completely, sheets pooling at his waist. “Fucking brat,”

It’s just past 9am, but the kitchen is empty. Touya carries you there, and even though you’re more than capable of walking by yourself, you snuggle into his neck, scattering gentle kisses across the scarred skin, head resting against his broad shoulder.

He exhales a sigh as you do so, and you can physically feel the tension leaving his body, a tiny bit more with each kiss you press against him.

A soft yelp hitches in your throat as he places you on the counter, cold marble stinging the bare skin of your thighs, Touya smirking at the sound as he wanders over to the fridge, rooting through it for a moment before turning back towards you.

“Water?” you make a face. Touya deadpans for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“You said you were thirsty, did you not?”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off shyly, hooking your ankles together and swinging your legs a little. “I wanted chocolate milk,”

“No,” he says instantly, slamming the fridge shut with more force than necessary, jars jiggling and clinking together with the motion. “Water first,” he uncaps the bottle and holds it out to you. “Don’t you dare start pouting,” he adds, when your eyebrows are beginning to knit together, voice stern. “You did not drag me out of bed at nine in the fucking morning because your mouth was drier than the desert just to pout when I give you water. You know you aren’t allowed sugar first thing in the morning, baby,”

You suppose he has a point, working hard to smooth your face as you take the bottle from him.

“M’sorry, niichan,” you murmur before taking a sip, gazing at him through your lashes.

He glares at you for another moment before a tiny grin breaks his face, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“You’re really testing me this morning,” he mumbles as large hands pry your knees apart, wedging his hips between your thighs while hands curl around your hips and drag you towards the edge of the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist—an automatic reaction—ankles hooking again and holding him close, bodies pressed flush together.

Something’s still off, you can tell, evident in the way his head drops the moment you’re close enough, forehead resting against the crown of your head, exhaling.

“It’s not very nice, babygirl,” he speaks again after a beat of silence, calloused hands slipping under your—his, your mind reminds you—t-shirt, palming your hips. “Think you should make it up to me, hmm?”

And you want to, God, do you ever want to, want to kiss all of his sorrow away, want to pull those gorgeous broken whines and throaty moans from him, want to help him forget about whatever it is that’s bothering him so deeply, to lock it out of his head, shoving it from his mind as his brain is filled with thoughts of you. But…

“B-But niichan, we’re in the kitchen,” you have to force the trembling words from your mouth, biting down hard on your lip to keep from moaning as his teeth skim along your neck, evoking a full body shiver.

“So?” his lips brush against your skin, nimble fingers dipping into your cute pink panties.

“Anyone could—could come in any second and—”

“What? Catch us?” he pulls back a little, smirking. “And?” sapphire searches your face as heat rushes to your cheeks, rushes shamefully between your legs. He snorts a moment later, pressing two fingers against your clothed cunt. “Exactly,” the word is just a huff of breath as he nudges his nose against yours. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I—”

“Don’t try lying,” he sounds bored as he cuts you off, fingers rubbing at your little hole through the damp cotton of your panties. “Your pussy’s very honest,”

And the broken whine that hitches in your chest is nothing short of absolutely pathetic, back arching and eyes fluttering as he begins flicking his thumb over your clit, keeping his touches light and fast.

“Yeah,” he breathes, the word bordering on a growl. “Of course you would. Bet you could cum from just this if Natsuo were watching, huh? Want everyone to know how easy you are for niichan? How much of a good little slut you are for niichan?”

“You planning on testing that theory out?”

Natsuo’s unexpected voice makes you jump, eyes snapping open and flying to his face as you choke on a gasp, Touya’s thumb choosing then to press hard against your swollen little clit, forcing an embarrassingly loud cry from your lips and paying no mind to his younger brother, who’s leaning casually against the doorframe with a smirk decorating his face. In fact, Touya doesn’t react to Natsuo at all—

Because he already knew.

“N-Niichan,” you nearly wail, burying your scalding face in his shoulder, nails digging into the smooth muscles of his back.

“Aww,” Natsuo coos, and he sounds genuine. “C’mon, don’t hide from me, sweetheart,”

“What, now you’re shy? When you were about to get off on the very thought just moments ago?” Touya’s patronizing chuckle vibrates against you, though his hands are on your back, petting you in smooth, soothing motions.

“Niisan, don’t tease,” Natsuo laughs, and you smush your face harder against Touya’s shoulder, whimpering a little as Natsuo’s voice gets closer. “I just figured if you two were gonna have a cheeky lil fuck in the kitchen, the least you could do is let me watch,”

Touya begins laughing again, starts to say something, voice abruptly cutting off. You stiffen, clinging to him, breath bated as you listen.

“Surprised you two were the first ones up,” Fuyumi’s voice floats through the space, tone clipped.

You peak out from over Touya’s shoulder, watching as Fuyumi fiddles around with their extremely expensive coffeemaker, a deep scowl etched into her face.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Touya asks lightly, sounding genuinely surprised, innocently curious.

“You know why,” she snaps, slamming her coffee mug down on the granite countertop and whipping her head around to glare at her older brother.

Touya chuckles and shakes his head, maintaining that he doesn’t, he swears, and if you didn’t know any better, if you couldn’t see the smug smirk on his face, the mocking amusement swirling in his eyes, you’d believe him to be telling the truth.

But Fuyumi knows him better than that, rolling her eyes and grumbling unintelligibly under her breath. Shouto chooses then to enter the kitchen, hair slightly mussed, looking a little like a white and red haystack atop his head, and Touya’s body goes rigid.

He yawns out his morning greeting, glancing around the room, mismatched eyes lingering on your bare thighs for just a second too long.

Touya notices, because Touya notices everything—especially when it comes to Shouto, cobalt eyes sharp and trained on his every movement—moving to shield you with his body as best he can.

“C’mon princess,” he’s mumbling as his hands force their way under your ass, hefting you up again. “Let’s go,”

And no one misses the way Shouto watches the two of you leave, the way his sleepy eyes focus on your ass—just barely concealed by the cotton panties, Touya’s hands providing more coverage than the garment does—then move down to his brother’s shameless erection, partially obscured by your body, inhaling a sharp gasp that everyone hears, that everyone knows what it’s in reaction to, that everyone ignores.

❅ ❅ ❅

Today’s activity is ice skating, Rei tells you as your exiting the cabin.

She looks excited, a smile on her soft lips, eyes bright as she pats your shoulder, and it makes warmth flutter in your chest, glad to see the events of yesterday haven’t completely dampened her mood.

“Do you know how to skate?” Natsuo asks you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I do,” you say proudly, looking over at Rei as you reach Touya’s car, sharing a grin. “Rei taught me not long after she and my father started dating,”

“Aw, mom,” Natsuo coos, looking over at his mother for reassurance. “That’s sweet,”

Rei hums, nodding as her eyes drift back to yours.

“Hold on a second,” she says as her smile slowly begins to dissipate, glancing from Touya’s hand on the handle of his car’s passenger door, to your face, to Natsuo standing by his own car a few feet away, brows knitting.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in the car?” his response comes out as a question, spoken slowly as he’s worried it’s the wrong answer, tilting his head a little like a puppy.

“There’s no need for you to take more than one car,” Rei says pointedly, her gaze darting to Touya, holding his eyes even though she was speaking to Natsuo. His mouth falls open to protest, but she continues. “The five of you will fit in one. We’ll see you there,”

Her tone is final as she turns away and gets into her own car, the five of you watching in silence as it reverses onto the road, snow and ice cracking and popping under the thick tires. Natsuo turns back to the group, a large, boyish smile on his face.

“It’s fine! We’ll take my car,” Natsuo’s eyes soften a little as he looks over at his silver Porsche, patting the roof affectionately.

“No,” Fuyumi responds immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Stone eyes fly back to her face, alarmed. “What! Why?”

“Because you drive like a lunatic—I refuse to ride in any car when you’re behind the wheel,”

Natsuo frowns as he rounds his car, coming to stand with the group. “Well your car isn’t here, since you came up with mom, so—”

“We can take Touya’s car,”

“No,” Touya nearly growls, the unexpected rumbling deep in his chest causing everyone to flinch.

“Why not?” Fuyumi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly as she glances at her older brother. “I can’t think of any reason—”

“He is not stepping foot in my fucking car,”

Fuyumi’s eyes widen slightly, staring at him in disbelief, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding, or are you really that stupid?”

“Touya-nii,” you gasp softly, tugging on his arm a little and then hugging it to your chest. His voice drips with venom, sharper than a tungsten needle, and it makes both you and Natsuo wince, despite not being the object of his fury.

“Fine, Christ, I just won’t come then,” Shouto finally chimes in with a roll of his eyes. “Will that make you happy?”

Touya whirls around to face him, rips his arm from your grasp so aggressively, so suddenly, that it sends you stumbling backwards. Natsuo catches you quickly, righting you with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“You wanna know what would make me happy? You fucking de—”

“That’s enough,” Fuyumi cuts him off with a glare so fierce it sends chills skittering across your skin, regardless of the thick sweaterdress and heavy jacket you’re currently wrapped up in. Natsuo must feel it course through your body, because he pulls you tighter against him, fingers digging into your shoulder.

Touya’s eyes snap to his sister, raising an eyebrow as a terrifying smile spreads across his face. It’s a smile you’ve only seen a few times before, gleaming white teeth on display, angular jaw clenched tightly. It’s a smile that makes icy dread pool in your stomach, thick and heavy, and you try to press yourself closer to Natsuo, body flush against his side, partially hiding your face in his chest.

Still, Fuyumi does not waver. “You are an adult, Touya. For God’s sake, act like one! Shouto is not a disease—”

“Could’ve fooled me,”

“—that will infect your car! He’s your baby brother!”

Touya’s eye twitches at the term, painful smile stretching even wider. In the pale afternoon sunlight, those glinting white teeth look pointier than normal, and you whimper into Natsuo’s chest.

“My car, my rules,”

“Oh my God! Are you being ser—”

“Alright, this is getting a little ridiculous,” Natsuo jumps in quickly, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re scaring our little princess, niisan,” he says, voice softer, a large hand rubbing your shoulder in comfort.

Touya spins around again, wild sapphire eyes finding yours, his face falling the moment your gazes meet.

Little fingers have tangled themselves in Natsuo’s jacket, clinging to him so hard the skin over your knuckles is stretched taut. Your entire body trembles as you blink hard, trying in vain to clear the tears rushing to your eyes. The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears, so loud you can’t hear what Touya says as he swoops towards you, eyes wide and worried.

“We’ll take my car, and Fuyumi will drive.”

Natsuo’s voice holds the same note of finality that his mother’s does, large hand still curled around your shoulder as firm stone eyes scan the three faces in front of him.

❅ ❅ ❅

Touya refuses to have you and Shouto in the back seat alone, and Natsuo insists that he sits in the passenger seat, to make sure Fuyumi doesn’t hurt his baby, he explains, which is how you end up smack in the middle of the oldest and youngest Todoroki children.

It’s cramped—they’re both too big to be in the backseat of such a small car—resulting in the three of you being squished together, your body packed in tightly—practically wedged—between theirs.

It’s nearly impossible to keep your thigh from brushing against Shouto’s, but you try anyway, leaning into Touya as much as you can. A strong, possessive arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers fisted in the material of your little sweaterdress, sapphire eyes hyper-focused on the way Shouto’s corduroy clad thigh keeps knocking against your bare knee with every gentle jolt of the car.

But when Shouto idly drops his large hands heavily to his lap with a sigh, long fingers splayed casually, just the very tip of his pinky resting against your thigh—well.

Touya sees fucking red, yanking your body away from his little brother immediately with a vicious growl caught in his throat, the movement so sudden and unexpected it has both you and Shouto gasping, heterochromatic eyes wide and alert as they snap to his eldest brother’s face,

He hadn’t even noticed. Truthfully, you probably wouldn’t have either if it hadn’t been Touya’s suffocating, overbearing presence beside you—engulfing you, causing you to be excessively aware of every miniscule movement, every jostle and touch and bump.

“Don’t fucking touch her,”

It takes Shouto another half a second before the realization hits him, eyes darting down to his thighs, finally taking note of the placement of his fingers. Then he’s scoffing, rolling his eyes as he huffs to himself, quiet and under his breath, something about Touya being absolutely ridiculous and childish and insecure.

Yet Shouto’s legs spread a little more every time Touya pulls you a few centimeters closer to him, ensuring that your thighs can never quite escape his, his strong muscles constantly nudging against yours.

It isn’t until you push your knee back against his, hard and purposeful, giving Shouto a sharp look, that this behaviour finally halts.

“Who’s being childish now?” you hiss, eyes holding his sternly, widening a moment later as if to say, Stop aggravating him.

Shouto’s face falls, lips tugging down into a frown as his gaze searches your face, head shaking a little. He opens his mouth—to apologize, you think—but is cut off by Touya’s immature snickering, his chest vibrating against your back.

“Fuck you,” he seethes instead, eyes narrowing and mouth snapping into a firm, unimpressed line.

“Watch it—”

“Play nice, you two,” Natsuo warns from the front seat. “I won’t hesitate to pull this car over and beat both your asses on the side of the road for everyone to see,”

“Okay, dad,” Shouto snorts as Touya simultaneously responds with, “I’d like to see you try,”

Nevertheless, Natsuo’s little warning does manage to shut them up for the remainder of the ride, Shouto crossing his legs, knees pressed up painfully against the door in an attempt to stop touching you. You’re practically in Touya’s lap by the time you arrive at the Ena Skating Rink at Crystal Park, seatbelt uncomfortably biting into your flesh through your clothing.

“I don’t understand why we had to drive an hour just to go skating,” Shouto grumbles just as Fuyumi turns into the parking lot, face set in a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed as he glares out the window. “There was a perfectly fine lake like, ten minutes from the cabin,”

“Shou, you sound like a petulant teenager,”

“Technically, he is a petulant teenager,”

“Not for much longer,”

“That’s right, your birthday’s coming up,” you say automatically without thinking, words slipping from your mouth as Fuyumi circles the lot in search of a parking spot. In the past, Shouto would’ve ignored such a slip-up, figuring the politeness of providing you an answer not worth Touya’s wrath, but now he turns to face you with a small smile, heterochromatic eyes almost twinkling, mask of irritability burning off his face in an instant.

“Yeah, in a few weeks,” he shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll be twenty,”

Do you have any plans?

The question lingers on the tip of your tongue, words frozen at the back of your throat as Touya’s hand curls protectively around you, strong fingers digging into your plush waist hard enough to make you wince.

But Shouto has become pretty good at reading you over these past few years, no longer needs you to voice your thoughts—the two of you have become accustomed to communicating through looks and expressions alone, to keep from sending Touya into an absolute rampage, to keep the both of you safe.

“Not sure what I’m doing yet,” he answers, keeping his voice light, though those mismatched eyes are sharply trained on your face, ready to analyze and decode whatever expression your features morph into.

This is the first time he’s ever verbally answered, though, and it hits you like a bag of bricks swung at your chest, the realization that this is something the two of you have built up together, something the two of you have spent years doing, working together silently, quietly, subtly, to keep Touya placid, something the two of you have been subconsciously doing to protect each other.

The thought inspires an odd feeling in your stomach, chest tightening with something akin to anxiety, something bitter and heavy rooting in the pit of your belly.

Touya saves you from having to answer, hastily unbuckling your seatbelt for you the moment Fuyumi’s finished reversing the car and nearly hauling you out before she’s even cut the engine.

❅ ❅ ❅

“You’re not coming?” you ask Touya as he slips your foot into a skate, beginning to lace it up.

Touya shakes his head. “No,”

“Touya never learned how to skate—refused to, actually,” Natsuo informs you, sitting down next to you on the bench and playfully bumping his shoulder against yours.

Tilting you head, you stare at him, a soft little oh slipping from your lips. Touya avoids your gaze, jaw clenching rhythmically.

“It’s for the best. He really shouldn’t be near any sort of blade for an extended period of time, not while Shouto’s in reach,” Natsuo jokes, though no one laughs, because it’s true.

Touya spends most of his time leaning against the boards, bright sapphire eyes trained on you, glued to you, cataloging all of your movements, each of your cute little giggles and soft little smiles, every hand on your shoulder or waist as it steadies you.

It’s hard for him to watch.

It’s hard for him to watch the way your eyes twinkle as Fuyumi speaks to you, the two of you gliding around the ice nonchalantly, hard for him to watch the way Natsuo pulls endless laughter from your throat as his gloved hands hold yours, pulling you along with him, hard for him to watch when Shouto appears beside you, slowing his stride to talk animatedly to you, the two of you absorbed in whatever discussion you’re having.

And yet, he can tell something isn’t right. Your eyes are twinkling, but they don’t gleam the way they do when you gaze at him. You’re laughing, but it isn’t as bubbly and pure as it is when evoked by him. You’re talking, but you aren’t wholly and completely captivated by whatever it is Shouto’s saying to you, gaze constantly drifting just over his shoulder, connecting with Touya’s.

Those ten little words from the night before echo through his mind again, and his molars grind together, but the look in your eyes, the way your face positively lights up when you skate towards him, past him, blowing kisses and giggling behind mitten covered hands, stomps them to little pieces, to dust, your fleeting presence blowing them away. He feels like he can fucking breathe again, each time you glide by him, resolve hardening a little more with every lap past him.

No, he knows he’s the best for you, absolutely is without a doubt the very best for you— and you confirm it with that loving, adoring, doting look every single time.

Despite this, he keeps disappearing intermittently, your heart sinking just a little bit more every time you look over to see him nowhere to be found, a sour taste settling on the back of your tongue. This is only the second day into the trip and you’re already terrified, knowing that he’s filling his nostrils with that fine white powder the moment he begins to feel his high fading, the moment he feels himself beginning to come down.

And by the third time he vanishes within a single hour, you decide you can no longer stand by and do nothing, say nothing—he’s gone for more than usual this time, an uneasy sense of dread flooding your body, making your limbs tingle as your heart begins to race, plopping down on the wooden bench and bending down to quickly unlace your skates. Your voice shakes as you tell the others that you’d like to take a short break from skating, claiming that your feet are sore, and that you’d like to rest for a while.

In actuality, you’re sure they all know what you’re doing, itching to go search for Touya, heart pounding painfully as several scenarios flash through your mind, but they say nothing, nodding with those polite smiles they all plaster on their faces any time something like this occurs.

The muscles in your thighs ache as you jog across the snow-dusted field, eyes frantically darting around the large open space in search for a man with ivory hair and azure eyes. Your feet take off the moment you spot him, an instinctual reaction, breath ragged and burning in your chest as you barrel into him, winding your arms around his waist tightly and burying your face in his strong chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he’s murmuring softly, arms encircling you and squeezing you against him, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “What’s going on, princess?”

Pulling back, your eyes study his face, stomach plummeting when you see it.

“Out playing in the snow again?”

Cobalt eyes narrow, Touya tilting his head in question as he stares at you. A frown mars your face, deep sigh leaving your nostrils without your permission, and Touya bristles. A tender thumb swipes across his nose, showing him the pure white powder it gathers.

“Slow down,” you say softly, gently, cautious eyes watching him carefully. “I don’t want a trip to the ER for Christmas,”

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you can see it, the blue fire simmering deep within them, but because it’s Christmas—and only because it’s Christmas—he blinks twice, extinguishing the flame to dull embers.

Chest heaving once, deep and heavy, he sighs out of parted lips, holding your hand to his cheek. Sapphire eyes close briefly as he nuzzles his face into your touch, and for a moment—just for a second—you think he’s about to apologize.

But that would be a Christmas miracle.

“Keep me in line,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping a little in defeat, a tiny sardonic grin on his lips as his eyes open again, searching your face. “Okay? Can’t let my best girl down on Christmas, now, can I?”

And although his shoulders are straining under the weight of this new responsibility—to try and restrain himself a little more, to not solely rely on the drugs to numb him to everything, to give up autonomy, power, to you—a weight feels like it’s been lifted off of yours, regardless of the fact that he’s asking you to control him, and you inhale deeply, able to breathe again.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side. The thought produces an inexplicable lump in his throat and he blinks hard, glittering eyes sweeping across your face before he seizes it, large hands cupping your jaw almost painfully as he pulls your face towards his, lips capturing yours in a crushing kiss.

Niichan! You try to squeal, muffled by his lips, Touya using the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, down your throat.

Traitorous as ever, your body melts into his only a second later, fingers latching behind his neck, trying to pull yourself closer.

“I need more,” he mumbles against your lips before pecking them again, eyes still closed. “I need more, baby, I need more right now,”

“Then take it,” you whine breathlessly into his mouth, echoing your words from the night before. “Take it, it’s yours,”

❅ ❅ ❅

It smells like damp rubber and stale snow, with a hint of year-old hard candy crushed beneath snow boots, releasing faint scents of artificial strawberry and orange.

The restroom is filthy, but neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to pay much mind to the grime on the walls, or the flaky rust on the faucet—which is quietly dripping intermittently, covered in little droplets of condensation that gleam under the harsh florescent light humming above, tubes exposed.

The cement wall is cold against your bare skin as Touya rucks your dress up around your waist, hands under your ass supporting your weight as your legs wrap around him obediently, praising you for listening to him and never wearing pants, even in weather like this, because god, it makes everything so much easier, baby.

In the past, you would’ve been in a rush, positive you didn’t have much time before someone noticed your absence.

But your family is used to this now, completely unphased by the two of you disappearing for twenty, sometimes thirty minutes and returning with swollen lips and freshly fucked hair.

It’s not like they can say anything, anyway—it’s not like anything is going to stop the two of you now; it’s not like anything would’ve stopped the two of you before, either.

Despite this, Touya still doesn’t exactly take his time with you, large hands pawing at your breasts, your waist, your hips, fingers dipping into the elastic waistband of your panties just to let it snap back against your skin, reveling in the little yelp it conjures from you.

“Already soaked,” he sneers in your ear as two fingers skim over your lace-clad cunt. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I expected any less,” he huffs out a chuckle; a mean, harsh sound that ghosts over the shell of your ear before he captures it with his teeth, biting down hard and forcing a high-pitched squeal from your throat. “Because my baby’s such a Goddamn slut, isn’t she,” his lips are against your ear as he murmurs in that low, sultry voice, hot breath contrasting the cool air of the restroom, and you shiver violently.

“Only for you,” you whine out, already breathless.

And you’ll never get over how easily he knocks the air out of your lungs with just a few dirty words and prodding fingers, stroking your slit through drenched lace in a way that’s almost gentle, careful, purposeful, sure to keep his touches as teasing and not nearly enough.

Still, those three words have more of an effect on him than you would’ve thought, a possessive growl ripping from his chest as he grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh, the denim rough against your soft skin.

That growl in particular is your favourite, and you tell him so.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, pulling back as sapphire searches your face rapidly, wide and bright and alert with the cocaine rushing through his body.

“Makes me—” sharp teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just above your shoulder, a loud gasp cutting you off and bouncing against the walls of the small room. “Makes me wet, niichan,”

He groans into your skin, tongue wet and warm and caressing the skin in little licks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he sucks, branding you with brilliant violet.

“What’s this? My princess talking so dirty without being prompted?” he pulls back to look at you, and you can see the amusement dancing in his deep, deep eyes, endless pits of cerulean smothering everything their gaze touches, almost voracious as they soak it all up, feeling like they’re sucking the very life from you in the most delicious way.

A pitiful squeak escapes your lips in the form of an answer, heat seeping into your cheeks. He’s mocking you—you can tell. Those three words uttered from your lips aren’t even that dirty, are nothing compared to some of the things that have come out of your mouth while you’re delirious on his cock, begging for his cum.

Still, you’re unable to find your voice, staring at him in an almost helpless manner, a little kitten in the clutches of a jaguar, claws beginning to close in on you, trapping you between heavy, sharp paws.

“Ah,” he smirks, eyes darkening dangerously. “Not so bold when niichan’s actually looking at you, are you?”

Front teeth dig into your bottom lip, chewing on it a little as you hold his gaze, feeling heat gush between your thighs, the symphony of your combined slightly ragged breathing ringing in your ears.

“Say it again,”

And you try—really, you do, lips separating as you try to force the words out, a nasty combination of frustration and shame eroding your chest, burning and acidic, then shaking your head a moment later.

“Just,” you whimper as you try to pathetically rock against him. “Please?”

“Nah, nah, nah,” he’s shaking his head, that stupid grin etched across his face, pulling back even more but keeping you up against the wall, hands still cupping your ass, hips pinning yours. “Niichan isn’t gonna fuck you now unless you ask for it,”

Your forehead creases with a deep frown. You usually ask him to fuck you, don’t you? “I alwa—”

“No, no, you don’t,” he says simply with a tilt of his head. “Niichan wants you to really ask for it this time,”

You blink rapidly in confusion. “I-I don’t understand,”

Little breaths are beginning to leave your mouth, speeding up with the racing of your heart, terrified to upset him. Yet he looks amused, looks like he’s having so much fun as he torments you.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos with a false pout, mimicking your own. “You’re not that stupid, are you?”

A little whimper leaves your lips, chin twitching, threatening to begin trembling as you shake your head at him, unable to find words. Heat floods your face again, little pinpricks under the skin of your cheeks, a physical manifestation of your humiliation as he tuts his tongue.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you,” he shrugs nonchalantly, though you can feel his cock throbbing through the thick denim of his jeans. “Just ask for my cock, babygirl,”

Although oozing with patronization, his voice is soft, blown pupils gazing at you with so much love it’s nearly overflowing from his eyes, slender fingers kneading the flesh of your ass almost tenderly as he waits.

And that’s all the encouragement you need, really.

“I-I want your cock, nii—” you begin, voice fading as your eyes meet his unimpressed gaze, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say Really? That’s the best you got?

A fierce need to prove yourself, to make him moan again, to make his stomach tense from just your words alone, blazes in your chest, burning through your veins and giving you another surge of confidence.

Gazing at him through your lashes, you pout a little more. “Niichan,” you whine out the honorific, back arching a little as you do. “Please, niichan, give it to me, I’m begging, my pussy is aching for your cock, T-Touya-nii—I need it filling me up, need it right now, f-feels so empty without you stretching me wide open,” the sentence fades off into a little whimper, but his lidded, glazed eyes, and the way his tongue runs along his bottom lip as he stares at you spurs you on, more dirty words spilling from your lips. “Feels—Feels wrong without your f-fat cock inside of me,” you nearly weep. “Please, niichan, make it right again,”

The gentle tremble in your voice only adds to it, somehow manages to make you seem so fucking innocent as you whine out such filthy words, and Touya can barely handle it, rubbing against your thigh, the repetitive motion of the denim dragging across your soft skin causing it to chafe.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes slip shut. “I wish I had recorded that,”

A cute, shy little giggle bubbles up your throat, face still burning. “I-I can say it again, if you want, niichan,”

He laughs—a genuine laugh deep in his throat, paired with a smile that meets his eyes—and presses a chaste kiss to your nose.

“One day, I’ll film us,” he vows, and the thought alone makes your stomach swoop. “But now, niichan’s gonna make you feel right again, okay, princess?”

“Oh, please, please,” you’re whimpering, body quivering against him.

“Shh, niichan’s got you,” he murmurs as he fiddles with his belt using a singular hand, your tiny fingers wandering down between your bodies to aid him.

Shoving your panties to the side, the head of his cock presses against you, and you wince in anticipation of the stretch—the stretch you so lovingly begged him for, he reminds you, sapphire eyes soaking up every single one of your expressions as he pushes in; reveling in the way your shut lids tighten, face screwing up in pain as the softest little yelp hitches in your throat.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, abused cunt still sore and raw from the night before, from being fucked so ruthlessly less than twenty-four hours ago.

But you’re so wet, he breathes, rolling his hips slowly, stretching you little hole out just a bit more with each unhurried rock of his hips against yours. The wetness does nothing to stop the sting that accompanies his motions, though, reopening the tiny superficial fissures in your sensitive skin, quite literally tearing you apart, again, as your cunt yields to his girth.

“Niichan, hurts,”

“Yeah, baby?”

Little fingers curl in his thick sweater, and you whimper out an affirmative, head nodding lethargically against his shoulder.

“I thought you wanted niichan to fill you up?” he speaks as though he’s confused, a hint of condescension sown into the question, never halting his thrusts.

“I-I do!” you say quickly, head shooting up to gaze at him with glassy eyes, thick shield of unshed tears causing them to gleam in the harsh light. “I do,”

“Well then,” he smirks at you, hips pulling back, slow and controlled, before thrusting back in, sharp and fast, so hard it shoves your body up the wall, head whacking against the concrete with such force it sends agonizing pain shooting through your skull like lightning strikes. “Stop being a fucking brat, and take what niichan’s giving you,” he scolds over the piercing cry that falls from your lips, voice rough, deep, rumbling the way thunder does, buried in thick clouds on a humid summer’s day.

“Ungrateful little slut,” he snarls out, panting a little as his hips set a punishing pace, rapidly slamming into you, his jutting hipbones digging into the fresh bruises from the night before.

And you’re powerless to stop the noises you’re emitting, catching in your throat in time with his harsh thrusts, little mewls of niichan! and broken whines bouncing off the solid, cold walls, each one reverberating in his skull, forcing his hips to drive faster, harder, deeper.

But it’s fucking intoxicating, the way he’s pulling those needy little sounds from you as tears slip down your cheeks, pompously spitting demeaning words at you, sugarcoated in a thin, gleaming layer of praise. He’s a goddamn drug, words invading your mind and casting a thick haze over it, and during that moment all you can see is him, hear is him, taste is him—you swear you can feel him rushing through your veins, his heady scent of expensive cologne mixed with hickory campfire and a hint of Marlboros filling your lungs, the organs swelling painfully as you hold him inside your chest, trying to keep a piece of him close to your heart.

He stops to readjust your position, grunting as hooks an arm under your knee and yanks, ripping it from around his waist and forcing it toward your torso, your ankle nearly resting on his shoulder, his hand splayed flat against the dirty wall, using it as leverage. Your other leg clings to him, wrapped so tightly around his body that the muscles are beginning to quiver. Still, this brief pause affords you a much needed moment to catch your breath before his hips piston into you again, harsh, strong, fast, cockhead slamming against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Each thrust forces another yelp to tear from your throat, your voice hoarse and raw, as he bruises your abused cervix, sharp spikes of pain shooting up your lower back and down your trembling thighs. He’s a watery blur at this point, eyes overflowing with tears, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders as you clutch him, arms beginning to ache from holding yourself up.

Tufts of white hair stick to his neck and forehead, clumped together with sweat. He’s almost whining out curses, slipping from between clenched teeth as his thrusts continue to pick up speed, although you can barely hear him over the sound of your own ragged breathing, peppered with pitiful little sobs that leave your chest heaving.

“Look at you,” he gasps out, wild sapphire eyes searching your face. “So fucking beautiful, taking my cock so well,”

And even in such a position, inebriated from the potent combination of pain and pleasure and him, his praise still makes your heart soar. A little pink tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips, bitten raw by him and salty with your own tears. Strand of hair stick to your puffy cheeks, though you’re unsure if they’re coated in sweat or tears.

“C’mon, baby,” he nearly keens. “Want you to be a good girl and cum for me,”

And those two tiny, four letter words are the magic words, like they always are, your head nodding vigorously, incoherent babbling bubbling past your lips; yes niichan, of course, wanna be a good girl for you, touya-nii, the best girl, your best girl.

He gives you permission to touch your clit, swollen and aching from neglect, your fingers sneaking between your bodies to rub at it, pussy clenching almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Yeah baby, just like that, milk niichan for all the cum he’s got,”

The praise, mixed with a direct command, has your fingers speeding up, moving in rapid circular motions, that cord of heat in your stomach coiling tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until it finally snaps, your little cunt throbbing as you gush around his cock.

He follows immediately after with a dark growl of your name, hips stilling as he finally cums, pinning you against the wall, cockhead pressed tightly against your sore cervix.

It’s thick, scalding, and copious, wrecked little noises getting caught in your throat as his cock pulses, filling you with endless spurts of cum; so much, too much, and you’re sure your womb isn’t nearly big enough to take it all, positive that it’s leaking out of you, running down your ass and down his balls.

You still haven’t caught your breath by the time Touya’s releasing you, hands firm on your hips as he places you gently on your feet, keeping you steady as your legs shake. You can still feel his cum leaking out of you, and you wish you had something better than your thin panties to keep it inside of you. With a pout, you tell him so, voice absolutely ruined as you wheeze out, “I-I wish I had a-a plug, niichan, to hold all of your cum inside me,”

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes twinkling as he gazes down at you, brushing his slender fingers through your sweaty hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

❅ ❅ ❅

You don’t remember much of the drive home, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from falling shut. Touya’s half dried cum is sticky—now practically gelatinous—in your panties and the mere thought of it makes you whimper, wiggling your hips a little, trying to shuffle closer to him.

It makes you feel needy. It makes him feel wanted.

“Niichan’s here, baby,” he’s murmuring into your hair as he readjusts his arm around your waist, pulling both your legs over his lap, your side still pressed firmly against his. “Niichan’s here,”

A pitiful whine slips from your lips, little fingers curling in his hoodie as warm hands travel up your dress, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs. Fingers press into the bruises he knows are there without even having to look, smirking at the way you hiss, contrasted by the way your thighs spread just a bit more, giving him more room to work, to play. The pads of his fingers graze the tiny raised cuts that the rough denim of his jeans left behind, tracing the raised little scabs.

“Sleep,” he tells you softly. “You did so good today, such a good little girl for me, my best girl,”

And his voice is the most soothing lullaby, smooth like melted platinum and quiet enough that only you can hear it, undoubtedly drowned out to the others by the staticky car radio.

❅ ❅ ❅

The dark bedroom is bleary, as if you were gazing at it though a thick slab of glass, eyes scanning the room slowly, mumbling out something that’s unintelligible even to yourself.

You’re not exactly sure how you got here, sitting on one of the twin beds in yours and Touya’s shared bedroom, propped up against the tiny headboard like a doll.

Touya’s murmuring to you softly as tender hands find the hem of your dress, tugging it up slowly, slowly, slowly, a low whine getting caught in your throat as your soft skin is exposed to the cool air, until he’s removed it from you completely. The clasp at the back of your bra snaps, and you want to tell him to be more gentle, this is your favourite bra, but you can’t seem to make your tongue move, the muscle sitting slimy and heavy in your mouth. Your vision disappears entirely for a second as something soft is slipped over your head, your body engulfed in the scent of hickory wood and Marlboro smoke.

Then large hands are all over you, maneuvering you onto your side then rolling you onto your back, gently prying your thighs open a moment later as he kneels between them, the springy mattress dipping with his weight.

“Touya-nii,” his name escapes your lips in a jumbled whine of protest.

“Shh, baby,” he hushes you, pulling your soiled panties down your legs.

Every muscle in your body aches, weighted down with fatigue from the long day, a few weak kicks—more of a fluttering of your legs, really—being all you’re able to manage in resistance.

“Hurts, niichan,” you whimper, through your eyelids are already falling shut again, exhaustion tugging at your consciousness gently.

“I know, princess,” he responds, and you’re just awake enough for the words to register, brow furrowing. His body heat disappears for a moment from between your thighs as he leans over to grab something, then returns, waves of comforting warmth rolling off of him.

Your body flinches ever so slightly as you feel something cold and smooth being spread across your swollen folds and puffy little hole. Cream, your mind supplies feebly.

“Niichan—”

“Quiet now,” he says, voice firmer than before. An order, this time. “Go to sleep, baby, and let niichan take care of this,”

Hot, tingling sparks blossom deep in the pit of your stomach, making your entire body buzz, like you’re high off him again, the sensation causing your chest to swell. This is what love feels like—Touya rubbing cool, soothing cream into your raw skin as he murmurs soft praises to you—you’re absolutely positive about it.

“I love you,”

The words leave your lips as a dreamy sigh, body finally relaxing against the mattress again.

He presses a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the soft skin a mosaic of crimson and violet from his previous ministrations. “I love you more,”

And that’s the last thing you feel, the last thing you hear as your mind slowly drifts into unconsciousness, filled with hazy images of a pretty boy with glowing sapphires for eyes and ivory for hair, of slim veiny hands decorated with the most magnificent black ink, the pads of their fingertips dancing along your skin, of a deep, sultry voice smoother than satin murmuring how much it loves you as lips crawl up your body—up your thighs, over your stomach and ribs, along the curve of you neck, until finally, they reach yours.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya smut #dabi #AAAAH this was supposed to be posted last night but i fell asleep editing it after getting distracted by SOMEONE #anyway enjoy!!#i hope u all like it!!#whew two down three to go #technically two to go because part four is nearly finished ehehe #tw pseudo-incest #OH THERES ALSO SOME FORESHADOWING IN HERE EUEUEUEUEUEEUEUE #MARI KNOWS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

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2-cute-4-school · 4 years

Text

𝚗𝚌𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚢, 𝚎𝚡𝚑𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜/𝚘

a/n: hiiiii so i decided to make this a 2in1 reaction; basically i just put together 2 of my requests that were *in my opinion* closely related. hope y’all don’t mind and enjoy!! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅

requested by annonies: ‘Hey.. could you please do nct dream reaction to s/o having high fever and just wants cuddls? 🥺 like how would they take care of them.. make it fluffy please.’ & ‘nct dream reaction to their s/o being EXTREMELY tired and then like ummmmm cuddling and stuff maybe?? *uwuing in the distance*’

Mark Lee

okay but just imagine this (๑◕︵◕๑)

cuddle sessions when you’re both stretched thin and overworked

even though we all know he isn’t big on skinship i think he would throw all reticence out the window when it’s crystal clear that you both NEED each other ꒰๑˃͈꒳˂͈๑꒱ﾉ*ﾞ̥

so you just crawl under the bankets into his arms and you both just lay together in silence just enjoying each other’s presence

bonus points if he runs his hand through your hair and you trace shapes with the pads of your fingers on his skin (´,,•ω•,,)♡

it would probaby take a couple of lazy kisses and if you’re really really soft he might just hum some song lowly in your ear

just a lil heads up:

you ain’t getting out of his arms ‘til next morning so better hope you peed beforehand and have a bottle of water in reach (ಠ‿↼)

the only thing that would make him get up without a second thought?

if you’re feverish because of your exhaustion

his worry wouldn’t allow him to settle down until he’s 110% sure he made everything in his power to keep you comfortable

“cold towels, water, painkillers just in case, is there anything i’m forgetting? babe, should i make you some tea-”

“mark, you know what would make me feel SO much better?”

“huh?” ｢(ﾟ<ﾟ)ﾞ??

“CUDDLES, BABE, CUDDLES!!” (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)

you don’t have to say that twice, your man is tucking you into his side in an instant flash ain’t got nothing on mark, he’s a man on a mission

he’ll try to stay awake long enough to make sure you’ve fallen asleep properly since he knows your fever won’t go away without proper rest

might hover over you the next morning too!! ( ≧Д≦)

Huang Renjun

this boy would FRET like CONSTANTLY

especially if you develop a fever

he keeps piling up a lot of stuff in your room, anything he deems would be potentially helpful at some point is surrounding your bed

“jun, why tf is a cactus on my nightstand?” Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

“what if haechan walks through the door?”

“... understandable” ¯\_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

your room looks like a deposit at this point and you’ve tried to drag him to bed more times than you can count

but he’s restless ༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽

until your frustration topples over and you’re on the verge of tears as you ask him for ✨cuddles ✨

he might actually feel bad for not joining you earlier so he’s gonna be EXTRA soft with you enjoy it while you can

he’s gonna pepper kisses all over you as he encases you in his lil arms and nuzzles his face into the crown of your head (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

he’s ready to offer free massages or head scratches!!!! LIMITED OFFER DON’T MISS OUT!!!

also he’s ready for literally anything

fever? medicine and wet towels nearby. thirst? 4 bottles of water AND gatorade. hunger? your favourite take out is waiting. any intruders? cactus is right by his hand. cuddles? CUDDLES!!!!! (۶* ‘ꆚ’)۶”

i think he’ll probably stay up even after you fell asleep, reading about how exhaustion affects one’s body and how to help i just think he’s a really wholesome person despite his all ‘don’t talk to him he angy’ character

but he’s still SO attentive to you!!

he’s down to anything that would make you feel better and if that means 20 hours of non stop cuddling so be it (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Lee Jeno

i think he’d be REALLY clingy with you even in normal circumstances kind of like how he’s with mark ya know

so your affected well-being will just give him an extra reason to evolve to his ULTIMATE LEVEL OF PHYSICAL AFFECTION◝( ′ㅂ`)و ̑̑

he won’t let you lift A FINGER

my man is cuddling you even while standing up (灬 ♡ ω ♡ 灬)

he’s also going to insist on carrying you anywhere even if it’s just from the bed to the bathroom this boi is strong you have no excuse to shy away from him he won’t let you

you have no chance at escaping him btw his arms are made of iron when it comes to cuddles good luck prying them off you

and even though he’s clearly focusing on your requested cuddles, he’ll ask you from time to time if you need anything, how you’re feeling, if you’re comfortable

lowkey uses the excuse of checking your temperature to give you endless forehead kithes cuz he can (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ

he also becomes kind of hyperaware of every little move you make

you shiver? he’s cocooning you in yet another blanket. you’re becoming restless? he adjusts your cuddling position until you’re fully comfortable.

NOTHING gets past him ┌༼ σ ‸ σ ༽┐

idk why but i have a hunch that jeno sleeps like a rock

so if he happens to fall asleep too and you need to get up? pfft yeah sure better call for a crane to lift you up from the bed ૮( ᵒ̌ૢꇴᵒ̌ૢ )ა｡

he’s also going to be EXTREMELY cranky if anyone dares interrupt your extended cuddle session this is strictly ‘only y/n and jeno time’

he might also entertain you with a few pictures of his cats if you’re feeling soft or ugly pictures of his members if you need a good laugh

would totally recommend leaving yourself in jeno’s care!! ♡(.◜ω◝.)♡

Lee Haechan

he would LIVE for your cuddle sessions (●♡∀♡))

despite that, he WOULDN’T STAND you being uncomfortable for a single second if he can do something against that

i think he’s the type of person who wouldn’t leave even the smallest of papercuts untreated when it comes to his partner so exhaustion? fever? yeah no. frickin. way. ┐(;Ծ⌓Ծ;)┌

and after he’s absolutely sure he has everything you might need nearby and put a cold cloth on your forehead and made sure you were hydrated and well fed

he finally climbs into bed with you and just SMOTHERS the shite outta you i’m not even kidding ꒰๑*´ᗜ`*꒱*›◡‹꒱꒱

he’s full on *leech mode*, kisses and nuzzles and gentle caresses

and best part of the package? this man is a walking spotify premium!!

you get to choose whatever song you want and switch with no ads and he has no complaints since his payment is already made in cuddles

you thought this was the end of it?? SIKE

also an entertainment king!! ୧༼✿ ͡◕ д ◕͡ ༽୨

we all know he probably has shit on all of the members and he’s not shy to do some harmless story telling to put you in a good mood

so just imagine and try coming up with anything better

sleepy you engulfed in the sunshine himself’s arms, tightly cradled against him with his soothing honey voice murmuring and humming to you and only you ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰

his protective side might surface too btw

no one is allowed near you and if someone somehow managed to bother you? oh hell naw 🙃

now they’re on hyuck’s black list good luck mate

his babie gets the royalty treatment in those times guaranteed

Na Jaemin

he’s a doting boyfriend either way i think we can all agree on that

but you clinging to him and asking for cuddles? you not feeling well?

yeah not on his watch mother hen in action part the sea (ﾉ･ｪ･)ﾉ

i don’t think he’d panic tho, his only struggle would be postponing the cuddles you’re asking for while he prepares something to eat and a tea and fluffs up the pillows and blankets he’s gathered (oꆤ︵ꆤo)

but once he’s done?

yeah you’re bundled in a mountain of softness and most importantly? our cuddle bug jaemin (♡ >ω< ♡)

he’ll keep you propped up against his chest while he feeds you himself, proper care is something unskippable in his agenda

but after that any cuddling position is FREE REAL ESTATE!!

anything his baby wants, his baby gets ෆ╹ .̮ ╹ෆ

but for the sake of his mental stability he’d prefer to be in a position from where he can see you

boi is too worried to let you out of his sight so he’s aiming to be the big spoon or facing you directly 三 ( ◜◡‾)っ)⁰▿⁰)

he’ll help you fall asleep in any way he can

he’ll caress your back, your arms, he’ll softly massage your neck and shoulders, he has a playlist ready for sleepy moods

he is PREPARED ٩(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

he checks your temperature every so often and he grumbles with a pout if it doesn’t seem to be going down

but if it comes down to it he won’t hesitate to ask someone to bring some medicine and if your exhaustion and/or fever doesn’t relent he’ll insist on getting checked by a doctor

it would break his heart to see you so weak and no ammount of cuddles could repair it until he sees you up and healthy again (◕⌓◕;)

but he’ll do all the pampering in the world so don’t worry

Zhong Chenle

i think he would hesitate at first but only because he’s kinda scared he’ll only make it worse and he WOULDN’T want that ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

eventually i guess he’d step out to call his mum for help before he pulls some bull like ‘let’s do some math it’s gonna be fun’ and you lose your shit like no thanks fam i wanna live (┛ಠДಠ)┛彡┻━┻

he’ll listen RELIGIOUSLY to his mum’s advice

makes you some chamomile exactly how you like it, probably pulls together something small to eat but won’t force you

what he will force you to take is some medicine you ain’t dying on his watch (๑･`▱´･๑)

and most importantly... DAEGAL CUDDLES!!!! imagine getting to cuddle every nctzen’s bias

he might get *a little* jelly tho if you pay too much attention to her tho

so he makes up some dumb excuse about dog hair aggravating your fever or some dubious other reason why you have to let go of his puppy and cuddle HIM!! ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́)

he’ll do that cute thing where he leans his forehead against yours to check your temperature he has to be extra until the end

and before you go to sleep he’ll try to prod at you to tell him what caused you to be so exhausted that you developed a fever might nag at you too about how unheathy it is to let it get to that point

he just wants to help okay? baby is worried in his own way ( •́ ∧ •̀ )

if there’s ANYTHING he can do to help consider it done by the time you wake up he’ll ALWAYS go an extra mile for you

and chenle wants to make sure you are aware of that and can lean on him so it never gets to this point again

but for the time being... it’s cuddles and relaxation time!! ✧(๑✪д✪)۶

better believe he’s already preparing a spa day for both of you to enjoy like the ✨spicy ✨ bitches you are

Park Jisung

his heartbeat accelerates

and unfortunately it’s not because he’s flustered shame (#ﾟﾛﾟ#)

his only thought when he sees you with bag under your eyes and a cold wet cloth on your forehead is ‘shit, they’re dying wait no censor the first part i can’t get my mouth washed with soap but... poop, they’re dying’

ONE step away from calling for an ambulance or morgue in his mind

he SWEARS he’ll let you teach him how to ride a bycicle as long as you get out of this safe and sound (╬⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾ Д ⁽⁽ ⁰ ⁾⁾)

he’s a bit of a mess, but he’s your cute mess

it would take *quite* a bit of reassurance that you’re going to be fine after a good night’s sleep and some jisung time for him to somewhat relax

his cheeks will flush once he curls himself around your form no matter how many times you’ve cuddled before

but once you sigh blissfully once he wraps his arms around you, it’s game over for him ε=(｡♡ˇд ˇ♡｡）

he MELTS against you

he’ll caress your head and gently scratch your scalp, lays kisses on your cheeks/forehead/crown of your head

but he will also fret every time you toss and turn or you make any sound that seems ‘distressed’ to him

we all know he can sleep anywhere under a frickin carpet so he won’t have any problems adjusting to whatever works for you since all that matters to him atm is that you’re comfortable (♡ >ω< ♡)

he just wants you to get better faster

he’ll talk to you in a hushed voice, encouraging and praising you and assuring you that once you’re all better he’ll help you with whatever you need and EVERYTHING will be well in the end ٩(ó｡ò۶ ♡)

he’s a senstitive person so he just wants to be there for you in any shape and form he can be

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 4 years

Text

oasis

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “can we share the blanket?”

Summary: quill catches you building a blanket fort to surprise groot with, and surprises you by helping. the two of you decide to test it out before the crew get back, and he shows you a side of him you haven’t really seen before.

Warnings: smut, fluff, hint of angst, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, adult language.

Word Count: 4,486

Got a Request? Prompt List: here

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You were humming quietly along with the dulcet sound of the Fleetwood Mac you’d left playing over the ship’s speakers, enjoying the way it echoed lightly down the metal walls of the corridor towards you. You made your way down to the cargo bay of the Benatar, your arms piled high with the sheets and blankets you’d just pilfered from your bunk. You cursed quietly to yourself as the toe of your slipper caught on a seam in the floor, tripping you up slightly as you went. Still, it did nothing to dull your good mood.

You dumped the blankets on the floor once you reached the quiet corner of the cargo bay you’d selected earlier, joining the stacks of pillows you’d already brought out between two shoulder-high storage crates. You smiled, pleased with yourself, releasing a happy sigh before setting about your self-appointed task. You never got hours like this, peaceful, simple moments without the sounds of crewmates arguing or the clattering of metal on metal. You loved your life with the Guardians, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t sometimes crave the quiet.

You bent over, searching through the stack of blankets for the biggest.

“Not that I mind the view, but you wanna tell me what you’re doing with my bedding?”

You jumped, startled, before arching your neck to look back over your shoulder. Peter Quill was standing behind you, leaning his shoulder against the ladder to the cockpit with his arms folded across his chest. He’d removed his jacket since re-boarding, the short sleeves of his tee shirt showcasing the muscles in his arms. He had an eyebrow raised in wry amusement, a trademark smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes at him before turning back to what you were doing, unsure if you’d imagined his gaze lingering over your backside.

“Your bedding is safe. This is all from crew quarters,” you assured him. Both you and Mantis struggled with the cold of the ship when you were off world, so you’d made it a mission even before she’d joined the crew to always have more than enough blankets on board. They’d kind of become bulky souvenirs of the planets you visited, and you usually kept them stacked in a locker in the corner of the bunk you shared with her and Gamora. Thankfully now that you’d all upgraded to the Benatar, you had more space – while Quill, as captain, still had his own private quarters, there was now an extra bunk for Drax, Rocket and Groot to use. You glanced down at the pillow in front of you. “…and a few from the medical supply crate.”

“What, you finally got sick of hearing Drax’s snoring through the wall?”

You turned around to face him properly, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Are you kidding? It’s like white noise to me now. I don’t think I could ever sleep again without an active sawmill present.” Quill chuckled. “What are you doing back? You guys only left like an hour ago.”

He shrugged. “Xandar gets boring fast.”

It was your turn to raise a brow. “There’s a whole planet out there full of gullible idiots, pretty women with loose morals, and plentiful booze. What more could you want?”

“Wow.” he snickered. “I feel seen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So? Why couldn’t all the wonders of Xandar’s seedy underbelly hold your attention, Star Lord?”

He ignored the question, the easy smile still on his lips. “The hell are you doing, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you come join me and find out?”

He gave you a smirk, the glint in his eyes mischievous. “Can we share the blanket?”

“I think there’s more than enough to go around,” you said dryly, and his smile widened. Your impatient answers to his flirty remarks always seemed to entertain him. Which was probably why he kept doing it. “But that would be the idea.”

“Huh?”

You pulled one of the pillows to your chest and wrapped your arms around it. “It’s a surprise. For Groot.”

“Is he sick of Drax’s snoring?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, standing and shaking out one of the largest, heavier quilts. You flung it over the crates, letting it hang over them like a canopy. “I’m building him a pillow fort, jackass.”

“A pillow fort.”

“Yup.”

“A pillow fort.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “Quill.”

“Why exactly?”

“C’mon, dude.” you said, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it, one-handed, with a grin. “Didn’t you ever build a pillow fort as a kid?”

Peter was quiet for a moment before he made a show of rolling his eyes and shrugging. Still, a small smile teased at the corner of his lips. “Want a hand?”

***

You sighed in satisfaction, wiping your hands together as you surveyed your work. The two of you had, on his suggestion, shoved the crates back against the wall, and in the little alcove you’d created together was one hell of a pillow fort. You’d draped sheets and blankets over the entire thing and layered more over the metal floor. Pillows had been thrown into haphazard piles, making the whole thing seem like some kind of gaudy, cozy nest. Quill had surprised you by rigging the string of lights he and Rocket sometimes used to do repairs at night to a much lower brightness and had hung them around the makeshift tent like the fairy lights you’d had as a kid.

“I think it’s safe to say that we nailed it.” you said proudly, holding up a hand. Peter grinned beside you, slapping it with his own in a high-five. “Groot is gonna love it. Storytime was always better in a fort when I was a kid.”

“Wanna try it out?”

You grinned widely at him, and the two of you dropped to your knees at the same time. Peter held the ‘door’ open for you, letting it drop closed behind him as he crawled inside after you. You turned to collapse happily among the cushions, sighing contentment as you stretched out languidly. Peter took a similar position beside you; the two of you barely fit inside, his shoulder bumping against yours. You bent your knees and drew them up towards you to bring them inside the fort, and you hooked one over one of his. He had his bent as well, and your foot dangled a couple of inches off the floor. He tucked his hand behind his head, looking over at you with an amused smile.

“Comfy?”

Peter looked up, considering the fort. “Y’know, I don’t think we made it big enough.”

You furrowed your brow, turning your head to look at him. “What d’you mean? Groot and I will be fine in here.”

He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, we barely fit in here as it is…”

“Why, Peter Ignatius Quill,” you said teasingly, laughing when he cocked an eyebrow at you. “Are you saying that you want to join us for story time?”

“You know that’s not my middle name, right?”

“I blanked.” you admitted with a shrug. “What is it?”

He laughed loudly, the sound breaking through the peaceful bubble the two of you had created between the blankets. “It’s Jason!”

“My bad,” you giggled, shying away from his as he reached out to poke you in the side. “It was the first thing I thought of!”

“Think of something cooler next time!”

“Alright, alright…” you surrendered, turning your head towards him and reaching over to prod his arm with a fingertip. “But don’t dodge the question. Are you – the big, bad, space pirate leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy—saying you would like to come read children’s stories with me and Groot?”

“It is such a turn on when you start describing me like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, I get all tingly, all the way down to my—"

“You’re still avoiding the question.” you said pointedly, cutting him off. He breathed a quiet chuckle as you did, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “Story time?”

“Well, why not?”

“You know we’ve moved past picture books, right?”

He smacked you lazily on the bicep with the back of his hand by way of retort, letting his hand fall back to rest on his stomach. He interlocked his fingers above his belt buckle, the picture of casual relaxation. Your leg was still thrown over his, your calf pressed against his inner thigh. His gaze returned to the canopy above, and you studied the angle of his jaw absentmindedly, your eyes tracing along the dusting of strawberry blonde stubble that seemed darker in the muted light. “I spent a good chunk of my quality time building this stupid thing, I should get some use out of it.”

You raised a cynical brow, amused. The two of you never could help but poke at each other with childish barbs and banter, maybe even more so than the two of you dished it out to the other members of the crew. Maybe it was a reflex at this point, but it was still always entertaining. You affected an offended tone as you spoke again, even with a smile on your face. “Well, if you think it’s so stupid, why’d you spend all this time on it?”

“It’s not…” Peter sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s not stupid. It’s just…”

Your brow furrowed as you watched him struggle to find the words. You sobered, surprised that he hadn’t caught you in your joke. Instead, he seemed… flustered. “Quill?”

“You know, I forgot about it ‘til now.” he said ruefully, almost disbelievingly. He raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair. “…I used to build these when I was a kid.”

“Yeah…” you said slowly, confused. “I mean, a lot of kids did…”

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, I mean when my Mom got sick.”

“Oh.”

It was all you could think to say.

“It got… it got really hard, once she was hospitalized.” he said, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. His voice was soft and thoughtful, almost as if he’d forgotten you were there. Even so many years later, you could hear the thread of pain in his words. He reached up to touch his fingers to the edge of one of the blankets. “I built one of these one night, and basically never left it. I’d tuck myself away in it for hours with my Walkman and just ignore the rest of the world. Got to the point where I didn’t even come out for meals; Grandpa had to drag me outta there every day for school.”

You hesitated a moment before reaching over slowly and covering his hand with your own. “Peter…”

His eyebrows twitched upward as he looked down at your hand in surprise. You felt his hand turn under yours, his fingers smoothing almost carefully over your skin as he took hold of it. He looked up, turning his head to meet your eye. “You never call me that.”

You could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your fingers with each breath he took. The edge of his belt buckle brushed against your knuckle; a stark coldness compared to the surprising heat of his body. You meant your response to be cavalier, dismissive even, at this sudden change in the atmosphere between the two of you. Instead, it came out softly, barely more than a murmur. “Sure, I do.”

He shook his head, a small smile curving at one side of his mouth. Even though neither of you had moved, he seemed so much closer to you now, the two of you shoulder to shoulder. “No, you don’t. Not really. Closest you’ve ever gotten was tacking ‘Ignatius’ on it just now.”

You shook your head in amusement, smiling back at him. “It was a joke.”

His thumb brushed rhythmically over the back of your hand, his head turning to look back up at the blankets above you. “Sure it was.”

“What do you care?” you said teasingly. “I didn’t think you liked your first name so much, Star Lord.”

He shrugged the shoulder pressed against yours, meeting your eye again. His eyes were dark in the dull light, shining with amusement and affection. They were almost magnetic, and you felt warmth rise in your cheeks as your gaze fell to his lips briefly. You felt his hand squeeze yours, and there was a charming, knowing quirk to his lips that made your heartbeat quicken.

You swallowed as he leaned towards you, and when he spoke, his lips were barely an inch from yours, his voice was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it over your own heart.

“I don’t mind it so much when you say it.”

Peter’s lips met yours, brushing against them in a chaste, whisper of a kiss. It was soft and gentle, his nose bumping against yours. His tongue touched your bottom lip as you parted them to breathe, his thumb still smoothing circles over your hand. You felt a shiver tingle its way up your spine, and his other hand came up to slide over the leg still thrown over his as he rolled onto his side to face you. His tongue slid languidly over yours, and you could feel his smile as he kissed you more deeply.

You exhaled shakily against his lips as his hand smoothed up your thigh, and he gave a light snicker as you parted, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Apparently you really like it.” you said after a moment, your voice unsteady. He grinned, his hand still trailing slowly up your leg, and your breath caught as it teased down to your inner thigh. He moved to kiss you again, but you pressed your free hand to his chest. “Peter.”

He smiled softly and reached up to tuck hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “Yeah?”

“What exactly are we doing?”

He smirked, his face moving towards yours again. “Want me to draw you a diagram?”

Peter kissed you again, his hand on the side of your neck. You let it linger for a moment, your fingers curling in the front of his shirt and tugging him closer. Peter responded eagerly, his hand moving down to take hold of your hip and pulling you towards him. You rolled onto your side, and Peter slung your leg up over his hip, his hand sliding up the back of it. It lingered just below the curve of your ass, gripping your leg almost possessively.

You felt his hips press suggestively into yours, and you couldn’t help but whimper against his lips, your hand tugging at the hair at the back of his head. Peter chuckled as you did, and you pulled away, embarrassed by your reaction.

You moved your hand to his shoulder, avoiding his gaze and looking down at his chest. You took a steadying breath, willing your heart to stop pounding. “Peter.”

You could feel a quiet laugh in his chest, his hand moving up to your waist. You shivered as his fingers ghosted up under your shirt to tease at bare skin. “Y/N.”

Your lips parted, intent on questioning him again… to ask what you were doing, where this sudden change in your friendship had come from… to ask what would happen later, if you didn’t stop. But then you felt the gentle, affectionate brush of his lips against your forehead, and suddenly, you didn’t feel the need to talk anymore. Instead, you met his eyes for a moment before you kissed him again, cupping his cheek in your hand.

Peter smiled into the kiss, the hand on your hip moving to the small of your back, urging you closer to him. The cold metal of his belt buckle was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and your ran your other hand down his stomach to the hem of his shirt. He groaned lightly into your mouth as your fingers crept under his shirt to caress the smooth skin of his stomach. You traced your nails over the muscles, and they twitched in response.

His hand moved to your ass, squeezing it eagerly and urging you closer. Peter slung his hips into yours, and you whimpered into his kiss at the feeling of him hardening against your thigh. Your hand moved to his side, and he broke the kiss with a light laugh, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

You grinned widely. “Are you ticklish?”

“Pfft, no!” he scoffed obnoxiously, wriggling away from you as you ran your fingertips across his waist again. “You—”

He caught hold of your hands, forcing you onto your back and straddling your waist. He pinned them on either side of your head, a cocksure smirk on his face as he looked down at you. “Now you’re in trouble.”

You snickered, wetting your lips with your tongue. You pushed your hips up into his suggestively. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, Star Lord?”

His grin widened, interlacing his fingers with yours and moving them above your head as he bent down towards you. His nose brushed lightly against yours, his mouth hovering teasingly above yours. You arched up to kiss him again, and he moved out of reach playfully, instead trailing kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck.

He lingered over your pulse point, and your eyes closed, a light moan escaping you as he sucked a mark into your skin. “Oh, well, that just sounded… cute.” He murmured against your skin, releasing your hands, and tugging your shirt up over your stomach. “But, that’s not what I’m looking for.”

He moved down to press kisses down your stomach, and you ran a hand through his hair. He leaned into it as he undid your jeans with practiced ease, and your hand tightened reflexively as he tugged them roughly down your thighs. Goosebumps erupted over your legs, his nose ghosting over your stomach and his teeth catching the waistband of your underwear and snapping it against your skin teasingly.

“And what exactly are you— Oh!” you jerked under him as he forced your legs apart and bit your inner thigh, his hands gripping tightly at your hips as he lathed his tongue over the mark he left behind.

“Closer…”

“I’m not ticklish, Quill.” you told him, rolling your eyes as you caught on to what he was trying to do. “But I— fuck, Peter!”

You bucked under him as he pushed your underwear to the side and rolled his tongue against your clit, your hand tightening in his hair. He snickered at your reaction, the sound devolving into a groan as your nails scraped against his scalp, his stubble agitating the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he brought you undone with his tongue.

The lights danced behind your eyelids as Peter slid two fingers inside you; tucked away in your little oasis and feeling everything he did to you made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten. You grabbed at the pillow under your head as you rolled your hips up into him, your chest heaving. “Pete—fuck, don’t… God, I’m gonna—”

He sucked on your clit and you came, arching up against him and your thighs clenching around him. You moaned aloud as you did, too loud for your little hideaway, eyes squeezed shut and toes curling. Peter continued to slowly pump his fingers inside you as he moved up to kiss your hip softly before straightening into a kneel between your legs. He watched his hand, his thumb circling lightly over your clit. He broke into a wide smirk as you twitched at the sensation, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. “Yeah, you love it.”

You bumped your knee hard against his side by way of retort and he finally withdrew his hand with a grin, holding your gaze as he licked his fingers clean. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah?” he ran a hand up your thigh, his other unbuckling his belt. “What are you gonna do about it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, fisting a hand in his shirt and dragging him down for a kiss. It was long, and languid, his tongue sliding over yours, his hand on your hip and his thumb hooked in the waistband of your underwear. You broke away to tug at his shirt pointedly and he straightened to pull it off. Your eyes followed the muscles of his arms, your hand smoothing over a pectoral as he leaned down to kiss you again. He dropped the shirt to the side, moving to remove yours as well.

You stopped him, urging him back down onto the cushions. You swung a leg over his hips slowly, running your hands down his chest before pulling off your shirt. Peter’s eyes dropped heatedly to your chest as you unclipped your bra, his lips parting. He looked almost awed as he stared up at you, his face cast in shadows by the dull lights above you. Your spine tingled at his expression, and you held his gaze as you ran your hands over your chest and rolled your hips slowly over his.

Peter’s head fall back against the pillows at the sensation, his eyes closing and a soft groan slipping between his lips. The sound was intoxicating, as was the feeling of the hard length of his erection pressing up against you. You bit your lip, brow creased as you slowly continued to grind against him. His hands slid up over your thighs, squeezing them rhythmically with every roll of your hips.

You scratched your nails lightly down his stomach before unfastening his pants and wrapping your fingers around his cock. His breath caught as you did, leaving him in a shaky sigh as you stroked him, moved your underwear to the side and slowly sunk down onto his erection. “Jesus Christ, Y/N…”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, offering him a cocky smile of your own. “You love it.”

He laughed quietly, taking hold of your hips as you began to fuck yourself onto him slowly. You leaned forward to take hold of his biceps, enjoying the feel of the bulging muscles under your hands as you rode him. He encouraged you to grind against his pelvic bone and you whimpered; you could feel him stretching you wonderfully, each corkscrew of your hips sending sparks dancing up your lower back.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered, watching you with half-lidded eyes. He ran a hand up your side to your ribs, his thumb resting along the curve of the underside of your breast. “You’re like… fuck, you’re like…”

“Having trouble finding the words there, Star Lord?” you teased quietly, your head lolling back, your eyes closed. You moaned as he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, exhaling slowly as you down to press kisses to his collarbone. His hand moved to your hair, bunching by your ear, and you felt his lips brush the top of your head. “None of my blood is exactly rushing to my brain right now.”

“I’m flattered,” you joked lightly, nipping playfully at his throat.

“But I can say: you call me that again, and this’ll be over a lot quicker than it should be.”

You giggled into his neck, kissing him headily before straightening again. You ran your hands up your sides, bouncing languidly on top of him. Each rise and fall had him sliding against your g-spot, and you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as his hand returned to your sex. He circled your clit with his thumb and you moaned brokenly.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got fucking fantastic tits, sweets?”

You whined, cupping your breasts and squeezing. Your hips jerked as he pinched your clit, and he swore, thrusting up into you. “Somehow, it – oh, fuck, Peter—”

“God, you’ve got the sweetest voice,” he sat up, his free hand ghosting up your side and gliding over your chest. You shivered at the feeling of it, falling against him, your hips never stopping. Peter’s fingers quickened on your clit as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he murmured in your ear as you tightened around him, an intoxicating mix of sweet nothings and cursing. You ran your fingers through his hair, clinging to him s you felt your orgasm approach.

Peter wrapped his other arm around your waist and bit down on your shoulder, and you came with a cry, hips stuttering against his as each wave of it hit.

Peter hooked his fingers under your chin and raised it gently from where your face was buried against his neck, pressing a kiss to your temple… your cheek… your forehead… the tip of your nose… as you came down, before cupping your face in his hand and capturing you in another breath-stealing kiss.

You rode him unsteadily as your hips shuddered with aftershocks, your thighs squeezing around him. Peter grunted against your lips, his moan muffled as he came, still buried inside you.

“Y/N…”

You kissed him again, your chest heaving against his, eyes fluttering open as you finally caught your breath. “Mmm?”

He grinned at you, pushing hair out of your face with a careful hand. “Yeah. You love it.”

You shoved at his chest, smiling as he laughed in response. You climbed off of his lap shakily, your face warm. “You’re such a—”

Peter let himself fall back against the pillows again, refastening his pants but not bothering with his belt. “Heartthrob? Casanova? Sexual—”

“Deviant?”

Peter smirked, reaching up to ruffle your hair. You ducked away from him, smacking at his arm as you found your bra and clipped it back into place. “Where’re you going?”

“The last thing we need is for the crew to come back and find us like this,” you pointed out, tugging on your pants and the first shirt you grabbed. “Rocket’ll never let us hear the end of it, and Drax’ll be… Drax.”

“That’s a good look on you.” Peter said, his hands tucked behind his head. You looked down at yourself; you’d pulled on his shirt instead of your own. You flushed, but he caught hold of your wrist before you could pull it off again. “Leave it.”

You smiled down at him softly, tucking hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that just as obvious?”

Peter’s hand moved down to your hand, delicately interlacing his fingers with yours. “Would it be so bad?”

“You… you want the others to know about this?”

He pushed himself up onto his elbow, his free hand sliding against the side of your neck and giving you an affectionate smile before pulling you down for a soft, lingering kiss.

tags: @peterquillthecutest @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @bombardia

if you would like to be tagged in future stories for quill or any other character, please let me know :) don’t forget to like/comment and please reblog :)

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eternalsimp · 3 years

Text

Cursed Fears

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3096

Warnings: aged up Megumi, use of female pronouns, swearing, mentions of violence, spoilers for episodes 5 and 6, mention of character death, slight sexual themes toward the end, angst, minors dni.

The sound of the rain steadily increasing was the only sound in your apartment as you waited patiently for your boyfriend. Your laptop displayed that it was midnight as you lazily scribbled statistics solutions onto the notes app of your tablet. Once you felt you reached a stopping point you got up to find a long sleeve to stave off the cold that seeped into the apartment from the storm. Striding over to your closet to pull out something to remind you of him. As you grabbed his signature grey shirt, you were immediately hit with the soft scent of cedar-wood. It was thin and soft from years of use. It hung loosely and brought you a sort of comfort as you counted down the minutes ‘til he got home. You weren’t a sorcerer, but you were well aware of the dangers that your friends went out and faced, and the panic in the back of your mind grew louder as the hours passed since Megumi had walked out of the door.

You stifled a yawn as you finally heard the lock to your front door click open and shut. You closed your eyes and stretched your back to loosen the knots that formed from doing your homework on the living room floor. As you made your way to the door to greet your boyfriend, he was frantically kicking his shoes off and stripping himself of his jacket.

“Hey love, how was it?” you said softly while reaching for his rain-soaked torso. He flinched away from your touch, eyes wide and afraid. His blue eyes scan your confused face before he blinks slowly and takes a shuddering breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to still be up.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before retreating to the bathroom. The smell of blood, dirt, and god knows what else isn’t lost on you as he tries to pass you quickly. You bend to pick his jacket off of the floor where he had tossed it in his haste, and walk to your shared bedroom to put it in the laundry basket. You open the drawers to his side of the dresser to pull out his favorite sweats and a plain white tee-shirt, before gently placing them on the bathroom counter where he is aggressively scrubbing his face.

“You’re gonna get sick if you stay in those wet clothes much longer,” you say oh so matter of factly before pushing up on your toes to kiss the corner of his jaw. Your movements take him slightly off guard, which you use to your advantage to nudge him to a sitting position on the bench next to the shower. You run a washcloth under the warm water of the sink, move to stand between his legs, and gently brush the cloth against his temple. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You both sit in silence as you wipe the remnants of sweat and blood off of his face and neck. You notice the way he's holding your waist, hands so light his touch is barely there. Like he’s afraid you'll break if he makes a wrong move. After you finish wiping his face and neck, you tug at the hem of his soaked shirt and he complies with your wordless command to take it off. You step back out of the bathroom to toss it into the basket with his Jujustu Tech jacket.

When you walk back in, his head is leaning against the cool wall, letting you fully take stock of the bruises and cuts adorning the top half of his body. The worst of it looks like a slight split at the corner of his bottom lip and a shallow cut above one of his brows. You stride over to him and run your fingers through his black hair. “Baby,” you crooned softly. He gave a soft hum in acknowledgment as you nuzzled your nose into the top of his head. “I love you but you smell like a sewer, can you please shower before you fall asleep?” He sticks his tongue out playfully as you back away from him so he can stand up and move towards the shower.

Though his normal stoic behavior wouldn’t concern you, you still can’t shake the terrified look on his face when he first entered the apartment. How tense he’s holding himself and the way that he’s obviously trying not to worry you. His eyes linger on your face like he’s trying to memorize every aspect of it before he drops his gaze and shakes whatever thought he had out of his head.

You settle back on the living room floor between the coffee table and the couch and turn your attention back to your college notes. You only have time to pick your stylus back up before your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. You look down and see Itadori’s name scrawled across the screen along with a picture of him smiling next to your grouchy-looking boyfriend.

“Hey Yuuji, what’s up?”

“Hey y/n, I know it's late but I just wanted to make sure Fushiguro got back okay.”

“Yeah, he’s in the shower. Do you want me to have him call you when he’s out?”

“No… I just… did he seem okay when he got back?”

You chewed on the corner of your mouth for a second, “I mean, he seemed kinda unsettled but that’s not unusual for when he comes back from your guys' missions.”

“Yeah… yeah you’re right. I don’t know, he just seemed off after everything. Never mind.”

You hear the water shut off in the other room and quirk a brow. “Yuuji you better spit it out or else I’m gonna come over there and start cutting your fingers off! What are you not telling me?”

“On that note, I gotta go. Just talk to him, okay?”

“Wait Yuuji-” the line goes dead before you can press him with more questions. You stuff your phone back into your pocket and tap your stylus on your tablet for a couple of minutes. Just talk to him. Gore and violence are nothing new to Megumi, and he isn’t easily fazed, so what would shake him so bad that even Yuuji is worried?

You’re pulled from your thoughts both literally and figuratively when you feel a pair of muscular arms lift you onto the couch behind you. You are once again settled between your boyfriend's legs as you’re pressed against his strong chest. You yelp and try to wiggle out of his grasp but his years of training with the other Jujustu Sorcerers, even after graduating, leave him with an iron grip on your hips.

“Hang on let me grab my notes,” you protest. He presses his face into your neck and whines. After a few moments of struggling against him, you manage to snatch your tablet and pen off the ground and open it to your last question. You adjust yourself so your shoulder is against his chest and you can lazily drape your legs over his thigh. He rests his cheek against the crown of your head and readjusts his arms around you so he can still hold you tightly while not blocking your view of your classwork. You scribble notes for a few more minutes before deciding that him falling asleep in this position will mean him complaining of a sore neck in the morning, what with the awkward way it's twisted to lean against you. You could feel his body getting heavier against your own. You remembered what Yuuji had told you, and in an effort to keep him awake, you decided to ask what had been nagging you since he got back home.

“Are you okay?” All you get in response is another hum from your barely awake boyfriend. You shift again and reach up to run your fingers through his still-damp hair, “‘Gumi, baby, you shouldn't fall asleep here. Let’s go to bed.” He chuckles lightly at the nickname you gave him way back when you first started dating, and how you save it for private moments like this.

“I just wanna hold you for a bit longer, I promise we’ll get up soon.” Megumi finally murmurs. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches as you try to fix your gaze upon him. You sigh and set your tablet down before turning to straddle Megumi’s lap and force him to look at you.

“What’s wrong, you’re more distant than usual?” You rest your hands on either side of his face and turn him to look at you. He avoids eye contact and suddenly you’re looking at the guarded 16-year-old boy who refused to open up to anyone when you first met. You lean to rest your forehead against his as he focuses his gaze somewhere between your jaw and the base of your throat. “Please talk to me? What happened out there?”

Megumi struggles internally on how much to tell you. You mindlessly stroke his cheeks with your thumbs and he finds himself settling his hands back on your waist again, with the same feather-light touch that you would use with glass. Finally, you get his answer in the form of a whisper.

“I’m scared I’m gonna lose you…”

You immediately pull your head back to look at him straight on only to be met with a faraway gaze. You furrow your brows together and squeeze his face just enough to get his attention. His eyes snap to yours and you can see the tears starting to prick at the corners. “I’m not going anywhere ‘Gumi.” You smile at him before pulling him closer to you and he buries his face into your neck.

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I’m scared I’m putting you in danger,” his voice is starting to waver, “You didn’t ask for this, any of this. I’m gone all the time, always on missions constantly putting both our lives in danger. I can’t even imagine what would happen if one of the special grades were to find out about you. It’s bad enough Sukuna knows you.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and you feel his chest shudder.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. You nudge his face away from your shoulder and see the tears he’s been holding back finally fall. The only other time you can remember him crying like this was when he thought Yuji died. You go back to stroking his face and shushing him but it's too late, the dam is broken and he can no longer hold back the sobs.

“What if I can’t protect you?” He continues to choke out his fears while you keep stroking his face lovingly and whispering soft reassurances to him that everything is going to be okay and you’re both safe. You let him cry into your chest until his strangled sobs slowly turn into soft sniffles.

“Feeling any better baby?” You gently push at his shoulders and lean him back again so you can look at him. He nods hesitantly and lets you wipe any remaining tears from under his now puffy eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just tired and I guess everything kinda boiled over all at once,” he sighs. You lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips and he instantly melts into it.

“Don’t be sorry Megumi, you can talk to me about anything.” You press another kiss to his forehead and continue rubbing small circles into his jaw to loosen the tension there. After a few moments of holding each other silently, you pipe your voice up again. “Yuji called, he seemed worried. Did something happen tonight?”

You felt Megumi go stiff underneath you before quickly relaxing into your touch again. “Itadori started to lose control and Sukuna was just being a dick, per usual.” You inhale sharply and try to remove yourself from his grasp, you are gonna kill those two one of these days. As if he could read your mind Megumi quickly grabbed your wrists effectively pinning you against his chest once again. “Okay no, stop it. Nothing happened, he was just being mouthy and trying to wind me up. Obviously, it worked...”

“I don’t give a shit what Sukuna says and neither should you. If by some miracle he is able to get out of their pact, Gojo and Yuji would never let anything happen, and neither would you.” You press your forehead against his again since he still has a firm grip on your wrists to keep you from moving away from him. “I don’t care what you think, the safest place for me is right here with you. Sukuna is just bitter that he’s in a cage so he’s decided to make it everyone else's problem.” Megumi chuckles lightly again before releasing your hands and replacing his arms around your waist.

“We should go to bed, you have class in the morning.” He sighs. You crane your neck to see it’s well past 2 am, you stretch again to release the last couple of cracks in your spine and your boyfriend takes the opportunity to nip at your collarbones and make you squirm against him.

“If you stop doing that I’ll stay home with you instead, deal?” He jerks his face away from your chest and gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Are you sure? You have exams this week right?”

“There’s no point in going to a lecture if I’m just gonna fall asleep. I’ll study for my exams tomorrow after I wake up, but I’m planning on sleeping in tomorrow. Both of us need it.” He hums in agreement before trying to lift himself off the couch with you still in his arms. You gasp in surprise as you feel him wobble and stumble back into the couch cushions, tucking you into his neck with a hand to the back of your head to keep your faces from colliding.

You look at each other and let out a chorus of laughter. You shake your head before pinching his nose gently. “For someone so smart, you are so fucking dumb sometimes.” He scrunches up his face and swats your hand away as you peel yourself out of his arms and off his lap.

“You know, I’ve done it before and I was confident I could do it again. Also, I gotta keep my pretty girl on her toes.” This time it was your turn to swat his hand away as he grabbed at your thighs and rear. You rolled your eyes comically at him and moved towards the bedroom. He jumps up, throws you over his shoulder, before unceremoniously plopping you on the bed with a speed you’ve only ever seen him possess. He hovers over you as he presses his mouth against you in a rushed, teeth-clashing kiss. You push at his shoulder so he can dramatically flop on his back and open his arms expectantly.

“Give me a sec to change, I’ll be right back.” He whines like a child when you grab your pajama shorts and a tank top from the top of the dresser and stride into the bathroom. You’ve never known anyone to be as handsy as Megumi. He hates PDA and would never in a million years let strangers see through his cold, tough exterior. In the comfort of your home though, you quickly learned that he can never keep his hands to himself and they tend to wander on their own. He always wants to be touching you when you’re home together and he’ll whine and pout if he can’t. You can never find it in your heart to turn down his affection, especially on nights like this when he is feeling vulnerable and needs reassurance. Those nights are few and far between but you indulge your boyfriend in anything he needs whenever his facade starts to crack and you get glimpses of the version of him that he keeps carefully tucked away.

You pull your jeans and his sweater off and quickly throw your pajamas on. You toss your clothes into the basket from the door and find your boyfriend sprawled on your side of the bed scrolling through his phone. You poke the middle of his back and yank the blanket, covering him from the waist down, to what's supposed to be his side of the bed. His jaw drops in mock offense before he's pulling your front flush against his chest once again.

His lips latch onto yours again as he's tangling his legs with yours and threading his hands through your hair. You bring your hands under his shirt to stroke your fingertips lightly against his sides as his kisses grow needier and more urgent. One of his hands leaves your hair to grip your hips as he rolls his own into you desperately. You bring one hand to press against his chest lightly and move away from him for air.

“Baby please…” he looks like he's on the verge of begging. His heart pounds heavily under your fingers on his chest. You press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“‘Gumi, you’re exhausted and very emotional right now, just go to sleep.” His bottom lip sticks out in a cute pout and you lift your hand to run your thumb over his protruding bottom lip. “I promise I will be here in the morning and we have all day tomorrow to hang out and do anything you want.”

His brows quirk up and his mouth pulls into a smirk. “Anything?” He drops his head to try and catch your lips again but you evade him.

“Anything, if you go to sleep right now and wait ‘til morning.” He scrunches his nose up and huffs pathetically before moving to tuck one arm under your head and wrap the other around your waist protectively. You nuzzle your face into his chest to breathe in the usual smell of cedar-wood and a lingering scent of rain. One of your hands is tucked under his jaw while the other slips back beneath his shirt to keep tracing patterns up and down his sides. He shivers at the featherlight touch of your fingertips but melts into the hand you have on his face.

You can feel his breath growing more rhythmic and you glance up to see his eyes fluttering shut. You press one last kiss to his jaw before murmuring a quiet “I love you” into his chest. He squeezes the arm that's around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too baby. I promise I’ll always protect you.”

#fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #megumi fluff #anime #fanfic #megumi fic #megumi x reader

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