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sukirichi · 3 years

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— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

7K notes · View notes

butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Getting tall

Summary: Damian finally hits his growth spurts and the fam have opinions. Some damijon, timkon, jaytemis, and dickori mentioned.

Damian was an adorable tiny murder baby when he first showed up at the manor. Like a feral kitten. Short end of normal growth at 10 years old and thin too, Dr Leslie found. Make sure he eats 3 square meals and snacks when he wants and he’ll be just fine. Alfred had made it his mission, as he had done for both Jason and Tim, to put weight on Damian.

The first family member he outgrew was Cass. She reached over to ruffle his hair only to reach up above her head rather than below it. She didn’t mind. 5’4 isn’t very tall. She’d just have to remember that the next time they spar. Height wasn’t an important factor to her.

It was a few months later that Damian hit a massive growth spurt and grew 4 inches. He passed by 5’6 Stephanie.

“Hey little dude. What are they puttin in your food, miracle grow?” She asked when she noted how tall he was and how big his feet had gotten. Damian was a bit like the giant puppies all gangly. Alfred was adjusting the Robin costume monthly after Damian rushed to put it on for patrol one day and every time he raised his arms he felt his stomach show. Clothes were constantly being bought that met his newest height increase. The Kents were very appreciative of the barely worn clothing Jon got as Damian went through another pair.

“I’m perfectly normal in growth,” he said pulling on the hem of his shirt that was growing shorter by the day. Stephanie eyed him but left it. Tim hated the height jokes they would make when everyone started passing him in height. Nowadays Tim just rolled his eyes and deferred all short jokes to Bart who Damian was now taller than. Bart didn’t care at all because he was short but he was also at least top 3 faster people ever so who cares right?

For a very short time, Damian was taller than Jon. He liked that. Jon thought it was pretty funny.

“D, I’m going to be taller. My dad and mom are both taller than yours. I’ll be taller in the end,” Jon said with a grin before Damian pushed him off the roof. Jon giggled and stared at Damian with obvious heart eyes. The kid was definitely smitten.

Tim was half an inch taller. He didn’t acknowledge it in any way. But it wasn’t surprising. His mother was tiny, his father lower end of average, and Tim probably skipped too many meals with working during an important growth phase while he was becoming Robin. 5’8.5 is a perfectly normal height for a man. He had an easier time with stealth.

Bruce watched as his son grew more handsome and taller everyday. He recognized things he hadn’t taken the time to see with Dick or Jason and had missed completely with Tim. Aftershave, cologne, and deodorant budget went up exponentially and Damian was barred from bringing any of his shoes in the house and his Robin uniform had to double washed occasionally. He spent far longer in the bathroom doing his hair and agonizing over any spot on his face.

Bruce even once caught Damian do the lean on the doorframe while talking to someone they like when Jon visited once. He had to give the worst birds and bees talk of all time. Bruce also noted how Damian had Talia’s nose and his lip curled the same way hers did when he smiled. He stretched when walking to the breakfast table the same way Dick did.

Damian didn’t get another true growth spurt for 2 years. There was plenty of jokes that he jumped up to his height and didn’t move again. Jon was once again taller than Damian. Alfred was ready this time with the massive amount of food the 15 year old could put away and panels in his costume for easier adjustments.

Talia smiled proudly at her son as he grew taller than her. He was turning out handsome like his father but kept her feature and in her mind, that was the perfect combo. She never told Damian because she didn’t him to grow arrogant.

Dick didn’t notice it right away. He was so busy with Bludhaven and the Titans that he didn’t notice Damian had gotten a full inch taller than him. He only realized when him and Damian practiced a complex move that required a taller and shorter partner while training. They paired up as they always did and the maneuver completely fell apart. Dick was mentally putting together why it failed when Damian walked over and it clicked. Little D was not so little anymore.

“You’re taller than me,” he said brightly. Damian immediately grinned.

“So now you’re little D,” Damian said back. Dick laughed at that one.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I can throw you around like a tilt-a-whirl,” Dick warned. Of course, that’s exactly what happened the next time they sparred when Damian tried to use his height advantage.

“I can beat Jason so don’t think you can beat me just by being bigger,” Dick said standing over Damian who rolled his eyes.

Dick had no problem with Damian getting taller. It was his own height he had a complicated relationship with. See, Dick grew up as an acrobat. Being tall is a disadvantage. More weight to swing, more body to move. And his father had told him growing up that almost every Grayson man has been 5’8. It’s a legacy as strong as flying above the circus crowd.

And so when at 15, Dick was very distraught with the fact that he hadn’t stopped growing at 5’8. It felt like a part of his history and family legacy had died. He wasn’t one of the 5’8 Grayson men. He never told anyone beside Kori, late at night where she told him she loved him tall or small. She had already far outpaced Dick and was on her way to being 6’4.

Duke and Alfred and Damian were the same height for a short while. Duke would joke that he could just wear the Robin’s costume since they were the same size. Damian would threaten to disembowel him if he touched it and that made Duke laugh even more.

When he grew taller Duke once again joked with Damian calling him a not so jolly green giant and Alfred considered his nutrition attempt a complete success. Damian went from a tiny kid to a tall strong young man.

Damian and Jon were practically the same size for a while. Jon barely bent his neck to rest his chin on Damian’s shoulder as his partner worked on a complex mechanical part. Then Jon hit another growth spurt to end in his final height of 6’2, same as Bruce and his father. Damian enjoyed having a taller boyfriend for a while but would never say anything. High school dances were nice.

Bruce could see Damian getting taller and stronger and was practically grown. Dr Leslie warned Bruce that growth could continue until Damian was in his early 20s and he could end up a quite tall young man or stop tomorrow.

Jason liked being the tallest and biggest in the family. He had an entire inch in height on Bruce and was at least 20 lbs heavier. He was built like tank. When Jason had died at 15, he was terrifyingly thin. Alfred had tried his best but Jason had suffered malnutrition and hunger from practically birth. He was short and thin and Dr Leslie had told Bruce he probably always would be. And so when Jason came back to life a giant 6’3 and over 200 lbs, it was a shock. It took him forever to accept his size as anything more than an amour to create fear in his enemies. The first time he had accidentally scared a woman walking in the street at night, Jason had hated that he was so big. But within his family, it had become a source of pride. He was certainly taller than Dick and Alfred and even Bruce.

So when he visited Cass’s birthday party and Jason stood next to Damian and realized that the kid was taller than him, he was a little shocked. Damian had reached his final height of 6’4.

“When the hell did you get so big?” Jason asked while cake was being served. Dick nosed in the conversation.

“Little D is taller than you now,” he said with a teasing grin at Jason.

“And yet you insist on calling me Little D,” Damian said with an eye roll.

“I call him Big D,” Jon said with a smile. Dick blanched and Jason coughed out an awkward laugh.

“Good for you, bro,” he said patting Damian on the back. Jon blushed at the sudden understanding.

“No! I mean- he’s taller than me. I didn’t mean- uh,” Jon stuttered. Damian grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away from his brothers who were laughing.

“It’s weird you know,” Jason admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“The fact that he is dating Jon?”

“No, they’ve been together forever. That he’s taller than me,” Jason said.

“Are you- does it bother you that you aren’t the tallest?” Dick asked with a gleeful smile.

“No,” Jason said abruptly.

“It could be like how I learned my little brother was bigger than me,” Dick teased. “All of a sudden you were just massive. My tiny little brother was this big dude. Good thing I’m comfortable with my masculinity.”

“Your girlfriend is like 6 inches taller than you. If that isn’t emasculating then there’s nothing I could do,” Jason answered.

“Yeah, she’s always been taller than me,” Dick said with a fond smile. “You can’t talk with the Amazon you’ve been hanging with.” He pushed Jason’s shoulder with a grin.

“We’re just friends-I guess,” Jason said uncomfortable. “That’s not the same-“

“Well at least Tim will always be our little brother,” Dick changed the subject but mentally noted Jason’s reaction to the mention of Artemis.

“Yeah, he’ll always be a shrimp,” Jason agreed.

“Honestly fuck you both,” Tim said from across the room. With Kon standing next to him he certainly looked tiny.

“Hey, it’s my birthday and I am the shortest and I can still kick all of your butts,” Cassandra reminded them both and they laughed but neither corrected her because they knew she was right.

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yourmidnightlover · 3 years

Text

no need to rush

summary - you and spencer are in a relationship and when you overhear morgan teasing spencer about something private, you decide to help spencer out a bit.

warnings - virgin!spencer, fem!reader, kinda soft dom!reader, fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie. *let me know if i missed anything*

wc - 3,052

masterlist

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

you knew spencer was a bit touch averse. it only made sense with his germaphobic tendancies. the only thing is, you thought he had worked past those with you. so naturally, when he stops abruptly during a heated make out session, you got a little... insecure? worried? you weren’t quite sure just yet.

but you would find out.

you and spencer had been in a relationship nearing 5 months. everyone on the team found out about your dating each other entirely on accident, a story for another time.

when you walked into the bau late with spencer, derek had that smug, suggestive look on his face. you just rolled your eyes and went directly to your desk.

in reality what had happened was you both stayed up late, him explaining to you the concept of time in fluidity and a few different theories. you had both slept through each of your alarms, so when you woke up to your fourth one you had set, you immediately woke spencer up from his sleeping position on your stomach.

luckily it was only a paperwork day, so you could probably catch up on sleep anytime after you left.

on your lunch break, you were going to see if spencer wanted to go get some thai with you. finally unfocusing from your case files, you turned your eyes to your boyfriend at his desk, apparently talking with morgan about something.

he looked frustrated, and embarrassed. at first you didn’t understand what about, but you figured it was probably what morgan had said when you both came in late.

finally getting up to go save your boyfriend, you slowly walked up to his desk. you didn’t try to hear what was being said. you kind of just did.

“morgan, stop!” spencer exclaimed, neither of them noticing your arrival. you stopped far enough away to hear the rest of what they were saying.

“reid, look, it’s no big deal if you’re a virgin,” derek said. “i’m sure y/n would understand,” he said, trying to hide his laugh.

“it’s embarrassing. i’m a 25 year old virgin,” he huffed. “god! have you seen her? she’s gorgeous. imagine what she’d say when she finds out. what if she just doesn’t want me anymore? what if she wants someone who knows what they’re doing?” he ranted out, obviously worried about your reaction.

were you surprised? a little bit, yea. he’s gorgeous. there’s no question about that. how could someone look at him and not want to be with him?

but what really surprised you was that he was worried that you’d leave him if you found out.

you loved him, and he knew that.

you had been friends for a while before you finally admitted your feelings for him after the lila archer incident. he was shocked, saying he never thought you’d feel the same, saying that if he’d known he would have never kissed her back and that he really wanted you. then he got you. he never wanted to lose you.

and while he knew that you loved him, a part of him, the insecure part, was worried that you’d realize how amazing you are and leave him.

he’d seen a few of your past boyfriends, and there was no doubt in his mind that they were more attractive than him. they were more muscular tough guys.

but he didn’t know what total assholes they were. he didn’t know how much more attractive kindness made someone. not to mention the fact that he could carry on a conversation longer than all of them combined.

“reid, she loves you. don’t forget that,” morgan added before you started walking up, acting like you hadn’t heard anything.

“you’re right i love you,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his torso, standing on your tip-toes to place a kiss on his cheek. “what’re you guys talking about?”

“i’m sure pretty boy’ll fill you in on it later. right, reid?” morgan insisted, his eyebrows raising like a father getting onto his son.

“uhm... right. yea,” spencer nodded, lips formed into a line as he placed his arms around you, turning around to face you as morgan walked away. “i love you too, y/n” he placed a kiss to your hairline.

“i know you do,” you smiled, giving his torso a little squeeze. “lunch?”

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

a couple weeks later when you had gotten a couple days off, you were both laying on your couch watching doctor who. you had told him how you’d never seen it, so he insisted he guide you through the seasons.

you never brought up what you had heard, wanting him to open up to you about it first. you didn’t want to corner him about anything and make him feel insecure or trapped. so, you waited. you didn’t push.

as you were cuddled together, spencer moved his hand to cup your cheek, turning your face towards his. you smiled at his sweet action, him returning the same, love-struck face. he leaned in, placing a gentle peck on your lips, the smile on your face growing.

you kissed him back, bringing one arm around his neck as the other held his bicep firmly. the kiss slowly became more passionate, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip softly, asking politely for an entrance that you gladly gave. you slowly sat back up with one another, not breaking the kiss. once you were sitting up, spencer pulled you onto his lap quickly, not missing a beat.

“mm, wait,” spencer breathed. “i-i um...” he trailed off.

“sweetie, what is it?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck gently, trying to encourage him. “you can tell me anything, y’know. i love you,” you said, giving him a kind smile.

“it’s just that... i’ve never...” he took a deep breath. “i’m a-a virgin, y/n.”

“okay,” you smile grew even wider at the final reveal.

“okay? th-that’s it?” he asked in confusion.

“it’s just... nothing could ever change how i feel about you. and you being a virgin?” you scoffed. “spencer that’s okay. it’s nothing that i’d be worried about, or stop loving you over. i don’t care if you’ve never had sex with someone. hell, i don’t think i’d care if you’ve had sex with tons of people. because i love you.”

“so you don’t think i’m... weird for being a virgin?” he wondered.

“spence, you’re weird as it is. but that’s exactly why i love you. i love your little quirks. you being a virgin is just another quirk,” you chuckled. “and if you don’t want to have sex with me, that’s totally okay. i didn’t get into a relationship with you to have sex with you. i mean, it’d be a nice perk, but you certainly don’t have to or are obligated to.”

“i-i don’t not want to,” he rushed out, rubbing his thumbs along your waist. “have s-sex, i mean. i want to. i um... i wa-want to with you.”

“are you sure, spencer? i want your first time to be special. you know how i lost mine, i just don’t want you to regret it,” he did know how you lost your virginity.

essentially, your prick of a boyfriend in high school was making out with you, and it got really heated. were you absolutely ready to lose your virginity? no. did you necessarily want to lose it to this guy? not really. he was just there, and everyone else was losing there’s so you figured you might as well. so you did it. in a car. in the parking lot. after the last football game he played in. he was already sweaty, and finished after 75 seconds.

you didn’t want spencer to regret it like you did.

“it will be special. it’s you; how could it not be special?” he replied softly.

“you’re such a little charmer, spencer,” you said, bringing your lips to meet his once again, this time he was much more eager.

you gently tugged on the hair you were playing with, a low groan coming from his mouth into yours, something igniting within you from that sound. you slowly ground your hips against his, a little whimper coming from his mouth, creating a smile on yours.

“can-can we do it... like right now?” spencer asked eagerly, his hips stuttering into yours.

“shh, we’ll get there,” you mumbled against his jawline, your lips trailing towards his neck as you nipped gently at his skin, licking it afterwards to soothe it. you felt his breathing pick up as your lips connected to the flesh behind his ear. you gently ran your teeth along his earlobe, a groan coming from spencer as he exhaled. “you like that?”

“mmhmm,” he nodded, his hands finding your hips and grinding them against his in an attempt to find more friction.

“patient, bubs. be patient,” you said as you sat up off his lap, extending your hand to him. “bedroom?” he nodded eagerly, taking your hand in his as he trailed behind you into your room.

you both sat down on the bed and resumed kissing each other. you didn’t want to go too fast with him, you wanted him to be relaxed and enjoy this. he started trailing kisses down your neck, paying special attention to your reactions to everything he did.

“do you,” you breathed. “do you want to take off my clothes? or do you want me to?” you asked him quietly.

“ca-can i do it?” he asked against your neck.

“of course, baby. whatever you want,” you confirmed as he backed away from your neck.

he brought his hands up to your face, cupping it gently before pressing a firm kiss to your lips.

“i love you,” spencer smiled.

“i love you too,” you said as he connected your lips again, his hands moving towards the hem of your shirt.

he slowly slid his hands underneath the fabric, moving towards the peaks of your breasts and cupping them stiffly. you moaned into his mouth softly, pressing your foreheads together.

“that’s good, spence,” you whispered to him, giving him the confidence to lift the shirt up and over your head.

he leaned back to observe you like this, vulnerable and ready. ready for him. wanting him. you wanted him.

you wanted him even though you knew everything there is to know about him. you knew the bad, the ugly, the scary, the worrying, everything. and you still want him. you want him regardless. and that’s all he’s ever wanted.

“ca-can i?” he looked at your chest in waiting.

“you can do whatever you’d like,” you encouraged.

he connected his lips to one of your breasts, the other in his hand being massaged. he played with the nipple, flicking his tongue over it quickly and occasionally nipping at it before pressing a firm kiss and switching to the other side.

you moved to lay down on the bed as he began kissing further down your body. past your chest, naval, and right above the waistband of your shorts. he looked up at you to make eye contact, only to find that you never took your eyes off of him in the first place.

“go ahead, bubs. do what feels right, okay?” he nodded at you, now pulling your shorts and underwear down and off your body, throwing them in the corner of the room.

“i want, can i...?” he didn’t really know how to ask, he felt awkward asking anything in this situation.

“yes, spencer. you have full reign over my body tonight,” you confirmed.

he nodded at your response, his body moving up towards yours as his hand remained on your hip. he pressed a kiss to your lips as you felt his fingers spreading your pussy lips apart, his fingers wandering through your folds. you gasped into his mouth, your hips grinding into his hand as your hands held onto his shoulders and hair.

his middle finger ran over your clit gently, switching between going back and forth and in circles. he moved his middle finger down to find your entrance, slowly easing the one finger in, relishing in the way your pussy clenched around him. thrusting his finger in and out a couple times, he pressed gentle kisses along your jawline.

“k-keep going, spencer,” you moaned into his ear.

he took the encouragement and pushed another finger into you, curling them in just the right spot to make you squirm. he used his other hand to hold your body down so you wouldn’t squirm away from him.

“spence, fuck,” you whispered, feeling the tight coil in your stomach tighten. “you’re such a good boy for me.”

you heard him whimper into your neck at the praise, his ministrations picking up slightly.

he pressed his hand into your pussy, his palm hitting your clit perfectly with the way he was thrusting his fingers into your body. your hold on his shoulder tightened, surely leaving marks where your nails were, as you gently tugged on his hair.

“yes, yes! oh my god,” you exclaimed.

and just like that, the coil was wound so tight it snapped, releasing a flood of pleasure throughout your entire body.

“spencer! shit!” you gripped his arm as his hand was working you through your orgasm, helping you come down. “fuck. are you sure you’ve never done that before?”

“i’m a quick study,” he smirked before you smashed your lips against his eagerly.

“god, i want you inside me,” you pleaded against his lips.

“are you sure?” he asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

“only if you’re ready, spence,” you replied, your hands running through his hair.

“i’m ready. i’m more than ready, y/n,” he confirmed.

“alright. but first, can i do something?” you asked mischievously.

“what do you wanna do?” he wondered, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“just... if i do something you don’t like tell me to stop, okay?” he nodded. “i need words, bubs.”

“okay, i’ll tell you.”

“great,” you said, trailing your lips down his neck as he helped you shrug off his t-shirt.

you ran your nails gently down his chest, observing the red streaks your nails left behind. you kissed all the way down his torso and stomach until you got right above his waistband, you ran your fingers underneath them. he lifted his hips so you could pull them down swiftly.

once they were down, you trailed your finger along a prominent vein in his member, adoring the way it twitched against his stomach. you got onto your knees, grabbing his dick and licking that same vein slowly. his hips bucked up at the sensation, you pressed them down with a little giggle.

you ran your tongue along the top of his member, licking the precum off cleanly. you took as much of him in as you could, using your hands for the rest of what you couldn’t fit into your mouth - which was more than you expected.

“fuck, y/n,” he moaned at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him. “th-that fe- oh! that feels s-so good.”

you continued to bob your head up and down, you went as far down as you could, your nose hitting his stomach once you got all the way down, the sound of you gagging filled the room.

“fuck! you’ve gotta stop, y/n, please!” he exclaimed. you quickly got up off of him making your way back up to his face before he planted his lips on yours.

“are you okay?” you asked worried.

“yea, i uhm, i-i was about to uh, to cum,” he informed you with an awkward laugh.

“ohh, okay,” you huffed out a laugh. “so, how do you want to do this?”

“ca-can you be on top? like uhm,” he pressed his lips together for a moment in thought, “can you ri-ride me?”

“of course, bubs,” you kissed the corner of his mouth. “here, just lay back.”

you crawled on top of him, straddling his hips as you lined his hard dick up with your center. you made eye contact with him as his hands dug into your waist and hips.

“ready?”

“yes, please ju-just do something,” he begged.

you slowly sank down on his member, feeling yourself stretch to fit his cock as you gazed wondrously at his awe-struck face. once you were all the way down, you made sure to take a second to adjust to his length.

“oh my god, y/n,” he whispered quietly, his hands grasping at your hips as his jolted upward into your body. “please, please, please move.”

“patient, bubs. okay?” you placed your hands on his lower stomach to help lift yourself off his hips so you could slowly ease yourself back down. “fuck, spence.”

your hips rose slowly, slamming back down once just his tip was inside of you. once you found a steady pace for the both of you, you kept to it.

“it fe-feels so... good,” he groaned out, grabbing at your breasts as you moved your hands further up his chest.

“you like it?” you asked with a sly grin on your face. “do you like how my pussy feels on your big dick, spencer?”

“uh-uh huh,” he nodded, trying to maintain eye contact. “so we-wet and war-warm. so tighhht,” he mumbled out.

“that’s what you do to me. it’s all for you,” you said as you held his arms that were still up to your breasts. “fuck, spence it feels so good.”

“i-i think i’m gonna cum, y/n. please, oh my god, please!” he begged.

“mmm go ahead, bubs. cum inside of me. i want you to fill me up spencer,” you moaned, leaning down to his ear and biting his lobe gently.

“ahh fuck!” you felt the white spurts of cum shooting inside of you, covering your walls completely.

you continued to ride out his orgasm, wanting to get every last drop out. when you felt he was all done, you gently lifted yourself off of him, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist.

“spence, bubs, i need to go clean us up. okay?” you asked sweetly, running your hands through his hair.

“you didn’t... y’know,” he mumbled against your body.

“spencer i don’t always need to get off during sex to have a good time. besides, that happened earlier,” you kissed his hairline softly.

“but i want it to happen again,” he whined, placing a sloppy kiss to your collarbone.

“there’s no need to rush. we have all night, bubs.”

#virgin!spence #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spence #spencer #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg fic #mgg fanfiction #mgg #spencer x you #spencer x reader

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aquamarinescarlet · 3 years

Text

The Psychology of Us

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.5k

Warnings: mentions of smut (nothing explicit)

Summary: It seems like you’ll never get the answers you want, but little did you know…

Author’s note: This is probably my favorite story yet. It got a little steamier than I originally planned, but I think it turned out okay. I hope the explanation makes sense, it’s something I do use in real life so I thought it’d be fun to write about. Anyhow, thank you for everyone who read, and have fun with the last part :D

Taglist: @helloalycia @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @trikruismybitch @b0mbdotc0m @ima-gi--na-tion @cristin-rjd @arealearp @1-800-maximoff @zarriaza329

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

“I know, I know, I’ll be at your place at seven.” You said to Angie as soon as she reached you.

The hallway was packed, yet you were still able to notice her presence.

“About that,” she sounded unsure, “I came to tell you about this small gathering Pietro is doing at his place tonight, and I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

“So I can be a third wheel? No thank you.”

“He will have other friends over too, don’t worry.”

“Then why can’t you go by yourself?”

“Because I don’t know any of them and I don’t want to be there all by myself.” She reasoned.

“Just stick by Pietro and you’ll be fine.”

“Please!” She pleaded, giving you her best puppy eyes.

You weren’t opposed to the idea of going to Pietro’s house, a small gathering would be a nice change of pace from your usual Friday night parties. But your mind was in a different place right now and a party wasn’t exactly on your plans. You couldn’t say no to her though, maybe you could sneak out early, who knows.

“Fine, I’ll go.” You gave in.

She cheered, hugging you eagerly, and walked away before you could change your mind.

It was Friday again and you were still stuck on the girl and her puzzle. You’d seen her seven more times in the past two weeks. Now you had compulsively read eight books in the span of one month. Eight books all due to her, it was more than Diego reads in the same time.

Even your family was starting to question this sudden new hobby. Aalways keeping yourself locked in your room or with your nose deep down into a different book wasn’t normal.

Despite that, you were no closer to solving the mystery that was the girl from the library. She refused to give you her name when you asked her for it. She refused to explain the logic behind her recommendations. She just had fun watching you drown in frustration.

You were close to giving up, to start avoiding her until you forgot completely about the whole situation. But you enjoyed these moments. You were excited at the prospect of seeing her, not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Of course, all this excitment died down the moment she started to mock you for nothing, with that annoying smirk painting those perfect stupid lips of hers, growing your desire to wipe it off of her.

There was something, though, that caught your attention, something about the books she recommended. You enjoyed them, you savoured every story, every plot, every character. Diego always tried to get you to read some of his favourite books and you gave up after a few pages. But not these ones, you liked them, and you had to figure out what kind of spell she used to make you like them so much.

“I think I’m going insane.” You muttered while staring at the ‘map’ you had created on your bedroom wall.

It contained post-its, notes, the title of all eight books and the answers that earned you each recommendation. A pathetic attempt to find a connection between this whole thing.

“You are getting too worked up on this, I mean, look at your wall,” Diego, who had been hanging out with you this afternoon, gestured towards it, “it looks like something right out of a detective movie.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said exasperatedly, “I just need to figure this out.”

“Okay, two things,” he put up both his index and middle finger, “first: it is that bad, it’s just a bunch of books; and second: why are you so desperate to figure this out?”

“I’m not desperate,” you argued.

“Yes, you are.” You heard him mumble.

“And aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

“Not that curious.”

“I just want to prove her wrong,” you explained.

“Because you care about what she thinks?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“No, I-”

“Look,” he interrupted, “I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. You have never been one to care about what other people think of you. So why her?”

“I-,” you were at a loss for words.

Why did you care? It bothered when she insulted you, even though you knew it wasn’t true, and you’ve never been bothered by such things before. It bothered that she knew nothing about you and still had the nerve to deem herself better than you, even though this was all the more reason to not care about her opinion at all.

Was it really a bother though? Or was that just an excuse? And if it is an excuse, then what were you excusing? Why were you still doing this? You’ve been dragging this out for a month. Why were you so keen on proving her wrong after all this time?

You don’t need to prove to her that you’re smart: you get good grades, you’re the captain of the football team, you even have a scholarship in one of the best colleges in the area. Of course she doesn’t know any of this, but that’s not enough motivation for you to spend a month trying to prove her she’s wrong about you.

For all you know that crazy scheme of hers to recommend books could be fake. She could just recommend books she likes and hide the reasons behind those questions. But then why did you enjoy those stories? And why would she put up a whole facade to recommend some books to a random stranger she met in a library?

“Do you like her?” Diego’s voice brought you out of your own thoughts.

The look you gave him was one of disbelief. You almost wanted to laugh at his words.

“Like her? How can I like someone who pisses me off so much?”

“Then why do you keep going back?”

“Why I- because- I- I’m curious.” You didn’t sound as confident as you wished. It wasn’t a lie. You were curious. But curiosity was not the only reason you kept going back, although you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“I don’t believe you.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to answer. Thankfully you didn’t have to when, with a quick glance at the clock, you were able to change the subject.

“We’re late.” You simply stated.

“For what?”

“I told Angie I was going to meet her at her place at seven,” you gestured towards the time, “it’s seven thirty.”

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“C’mon, please,” you pleaded, “it’s going to be a small, like, get together or something, and I know Angie will leave me alone at some point to makeout with her boyfriend.”

“Okay fine,” he gave in and you made a little celebratory dance, dragging him out of the house.

Since this was supposed to be casual and between friends, you didn’t waste any time at Angie’s, where you’d usually spend hours getting dressed and ready.

Pietro’s place wasn’t far, which you were slightly thankful for since Angie wouldn’t stop talking about him the whole ride. He’s such a good kisser. He’s so cute. Did you know he plays soccer? He looks so hot in his uniform… You love your friend, but that’s just too much.

As always you weren’t the first one’s, and by the amount of people it was far from a “small gathering between friends”. The apartment wasn’t small, but sure felt like it with the almost fifty people crammed in there.

You were greeted by Pietro himself, who offered you each a beer before pulling Angie in for a kiss, causing you and Diego to roll your eyes. You gladly took the beer, if you had to endure this, might as well have some alcohol to help.

Two beers later and your mind was no longer fixating on the girl-from-the-library problem. Instead you were having a friendly debate with some of Pietro’s friends about which college was the best, the typical rivalry. Having only Angie to back you up was making the whole thing harder.

“Hey Piet,” a tall blonde boy called out, interrupting the conversation, “is Wanda going to join us?”

“Doubtful, you know how she is…”

“Who’s Wanda?” Angie’s voice was laced with jealousy causing the boy to laugh dramatically, which only seemed to make her madder.

“She’s my sister, don’t worry,” he reassured her. It made sense, he had mentioned he lived with his twin sister.

You watched as he pulled Angie away from the group, probably to makeout, as you had predicted, and you looked at Diego, to stop him from commenting anything, only to find his place empty.

You left the group as well to search for him, and was surprised to find him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat. You could’ve left them alone? Yes, you could. But did you? Of course not.

“Y’know,” you tapped on his shoulder, earning his attention, “when I bring you to a party so I can have someone when Angie left me, I expect you not to leave me as well.” You teased.

“Shut up.” He tried to sound serious, but the smirk gave it away.

“You owe me one.”

Feeling a sudden need to go to the bathroom, you let them be and went in search of one. You opened a door you thought led to a bathroom, but found yourself in a corridor which had other four doors that probably led to bedrooms, at least one must lead to a bathroom.

“Pietro, I already told you, keep that door closed!” You heard someone scream from one of them.

It wasn’t just anyone though. That was a voice that had been haunting you for a whole month now. Okay, haunting was an exaggeration, but still. You quickly closed the door, muffling the music and chatter.

As you rested your back against the wall, a surge of power took over you. The new information taking over all your thoughts. You had the upper hand now on this little game of hers. It was your turn to play.

Her door was easy to identify, being the only one with light seeping through the cracks, and you made no effort to be quiet or discreet when opening it.

She was sitting in her bed, long red hair loose over her shoulders, a book in hands. Her expression was soft despite the interruption, she hadn’t looked up, so she had no idea it was you who was standing there.

“What do you want Piet?” A mischievous smirk grew on your face.

“Wanda,” you uttered as if trying it on your tongue for the first time, earning the girl’s attention.

The shock that took over her features did wonders to your confidence.

“A beautiful name,” you continued, daring to take a few steps inside her room, “I see you favourite color is red,” you referred to the endless amount of details on her walls, shelves, bedsheets, all a different shade of red.

You walked further into the room, exploring everything in sight. She followed your every move with her eyes, too stunned to say anything. Were you crossing a line? Probably. Should you be invading her personal space like that, without a warning? Probably not. But she has been invading your personal space for weeks, so you couldn’t care less.

“Ah, you play the guitar,” you grazed your fingers over the instrument sitting on the corner of the room, “I didn’t think you had any talents other than insulting me for no reason.”

You were enjoying this too much. Your eyes landed on some pictures and notes clinging to a wall.

“Sokovia,” you said after reading one of the notes, “so you are Sokovian, that’s interesting.” Your gaze fell to her desk, a pile of textbooks stacked there. “Psychology,” you laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was going to piss her off even further, “you are more likely to drive your patients crazy than to actually help them.”

“How…,” you turned towards her, “did you…,”

“Get in here? Learn your name?” You offered some suggestions since she didn’t seem capable of finishing that sentence herself. “Pietro.” You simply stated and watched as her face went from stunned to mad.

“How do you know my brother?”

Was that jealousy you were sensing? Or was she just upset that he had told you stuff about her? You decided to play with it a little bit.

“He is a sweet boy isn’t he? So hot and so nice,” you teased and she advanced towards you, making you a little frightened, but not enough to back down, “it’s hard to believe you two share the same genes.”

Your face was mere inches from hers and you suddenly felt like the air was growing thick, making it hard to breathe. A feeling of warmth taking over your chest and stomach. In spite of all the discomfort, you managed to keep your composure.

“I so want to wipe that pretentious smirk off of your face right now,” she growled. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Why don’t you?” You challenged.

Football had given you fast reflexes (except for that particular event a few weeks ago), you were ready to catch her hand if she tried anything. Instead of her fist or her palm, you were met with her lips attacking yours furiously.

The kiss was needy, hungry, desperate even. Your hands made their way to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. It was a battle, a fight neither of you were willing to lose. Tongues fighting for dominance, teeth biting lips, jaw, neck, hands pulling on skin in such a way it would definitely leave marks.

Clothes fell to the floor as you backed her to her bed, pushing her onto the mattress, this feeling, a necessity for her, on the pit of your stomach growing ever more.

Safe to say your plans of leaving early were postponed. At some point during the night you had managed to find Diego and let him know you wouldn’t be needing a ride back home. Your disheveled state and red marks, which were already showing up on your neck, didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he didn’t have time to comment on it. You mentally dreaded the moment he would start with the questioning.

Some shifting on the bed caught your attention. Slowly opening your eyes, you were able to catch Wanda staring at you with a soft smile. Your back was facing her, so she didn’t know you were awake, but you could see her clearly from her bedroom mirror.

And what a sight it was.

“You’re staring.” You called out, and watched her face turn three shades redder out of embarrassment from being caught.

You turned around so you’re now facing her, although she wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?” She kept quiet. “Okay, wanna know what’s on my mind?” She nodded lightly. “Well, I’m thinking that I would have never, not in a million years, pegged you as being shy.” She tried to stifle a laugh while bringing her hand up to playfully hit you on the arm. “That’s more like it,” you teased.

“I’m not shy,” she defended.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

“Because… “ she lost it mid sentence.

“... you’re shy and sweet, just like your brother said,” you recalled from the day you spent together in the arcade.

She hit you, yet again, on the arm, slightly harder this time, but not enough to hurt.

“Tell me this then,” you finally reached the topic that has been bugging you for weeks, “what was all this for? The mystery, the games?”

She fell silent, seemingly in deep thought and you got scared you had killed the moment.

“Okay, so maybe I’m a little shy,” she admitted and you celebrated internally while your face remained unfazed, “and that makes me scared of…”

“Talking to people?” You helped out, but she covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t laugh at me, I know it’s stupid-”

“It’s not,” you interrupted, uncovering her face, “go on.”

She took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m scared of talking to people… especially people that I like.” Although it sounded like a confession, you weren’t exactly sure what it was about.

“So you liked me?” You asked in disbelief. “From the beginning?”

Her already red face was growing darker by the second.

“I had seen you before, with Diego, in the library, always complaining, always stating how boring it was,” she shook her hands in the air for the purpose of drama, “and it was annoying, but it was also cute and- and I always wanted to talk to you, but I never found courage to do it.”

To say you were shocked at the new information was an understatement. She liked you all this time? And you just thought she hated your guts for no reason? Wow, that’s precious.

“Okay, so…” you tried to say in the stunned state you found yourself, “how- why- the- why did you do all that then?”

“Because I had like, this sudden flow of confidence, and since you had this cocky personality I thought you would like someone who was the same, so I said what I said, and I did what I did and-”

“I started to hate you.” The way you acted when you first met must’ve hurt her.

“Exactly, and I thought I had screwed up completely, until you showed up again, and my stupid brain associated that to the idea that the way I had acted worked. So I kept it up. A persona, in a sense.”

“What were you planning to do then? Keep that act up forever?” The question made her slightly frustrated.

“I don’t know, I didn’t think that far, I just enjoyed your presence, even though you still seemed to hate my guts.” You laughed and moved closer to her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“I did,” you whispered close to her ear, “I hated your guts, but I also enjoyed it, the games, the mystery, that’s why I kept coming back.”

“So it worked,” she said excitedly.

“It sort of did.” You stared into her green eyes, for a few seconds. “There’s something else in my mind too that I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“So… about the recommendations-”

“Oh my god,” she didn’t let you finish, “you haven’t figured that out yet?!” She exclaimed in disbelief, when she opened her mouth again you knew what was coming.

“Don’t say it.” You warned.

“You really are slow.” She said it anyways, a mischievous grin painting her lips.

“Damn, I hate you,” you said jokingly, unwrapping yourself from her and making a move to leave the bed.

She stopped you short, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you back, causing you to fall on the bed laughing hysterically.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I won’t say it anymore.”

She let you go and sat up and across from you.

“Good, so are you going to explain it to me or not?” You questioned and she rolled her eyes playfully. “And don’t you dare tell me there is no logic behind it, there has to be one.”

“Yes, there is a logic,” she mocked, “it’s quite simple actually, the ‘color’ is what sets the mood for the book.”

“How so?”

“Uhm, like, we associate colors with stuff, like black is associated with death and evil and white is associated with peace and purity,” you nodded, “it also works for feelings, associating those with colors, so when a person says a color I can pick a book that has elements that are associated with that color, or that causes a feeling that we associate with that color.” She explained.

“That explains the psychology major thing.” She seemed happy you remembered, even though it was mere hours ago.

“Basically,” she agreed, “so, ‘person’ is what defines the relationships that surround the main character, so either romances, friendships, families, strangers, y’know?”

“Yeah okay,” you tried to follow along.

“And ‘place’ is to decide how far from reality the story should be, if the person says a place that’s close to their home, they tend to prefer stuff closer to their comfort zone, so no fantasy or sci-fi, and vice-versa.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep,” she beamed a smile, “simple isn’t it?”

“Does it always work?”

“No, it’s a really subjective thing, the more I know the person the better, but sometimes it just doesn’t work.” She admitted. “It worked on you like a charm though,” she teased.

“That it did,” you couldn't deny. “Okay, so if I got it right, color sets the mood, right?”

“Right.”

“Then what is red associated with?” You looked around her room, filled with several details in red.

“Anger, love, passion-,” she stopped talking when she met your eyes, a mischievous smirk on your lips.

You slowly rose from your position and crawled forward, never losing her gaze. You quirked an eyebrow suggestively as you got closer. You sat on her lap, faces inches from another.

“Well, I can show you some passion.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #mcu #marvel #fluff #ittle bit of angst #wanda x you

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iguessilovebakugou · 3 years

Text

Early Morning || Bakugou x Mom!Reader {Request}

It was about 2:30 in the morning when you realized Haku hadn’t found his way into your room.

It’s a bleary thought that occurred to you suddenly when you became aware but hadn’t yet opened your eyes. For a moment, you tried to pretend you could go back to sleep and just relish in the undisturbed rest and relaxation after a hard day of being a fully functional adult.

Haku had never been really great about sleeping through the night. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up with a nightmare or to cry out for a glass of water. It only seemed to get worse when you and Bakugou had made the decision he should start sleeping in a big boy bed. You had hoped that by letting him pick out the style he wanted, he would be more open to sleeping in the bed by himself. It didn’t really work out as planned, but when did it ever?

Without fail, for the past few weeks, he would find his way into your room and squeeze between you and Bakugou, clinging to your back and generally kicking his poor father in whatever body part was in reaching distance. It usually ended with Bakugou creating a wall of pillows, separating the two of you from his self made oasis of fluff and contempt.

A chill ran over your bare arms and you could hear the soft sound of water against glass. It was raining, the drops pattering against the window lazily. Maybe that’s what originally woke you up, you weren’t entirely sure. Maybe it was your maternal instinct screeching that you had been too comfy for too long, so obviously, something was terribly, horribly wrong. Either way, sleep was now out of the question until you figured out where your little rugrat was.

When you finally were able to open your eyes, you took a moment to glance around the room, blinking away the lingering remnants of sleep. You looked over to the far wall, watching the storm clouds rolling through. The window had been left open, the navy blue curtains gently blowing against the wind. This was another thing that alarmed you, causing you to sit up further. Bakugou always closed the windows when he got home late.

You twisted around to find his spot of the bed remained undisturbed. You gently touched the sheets, pulling away when you were sure no warmth came from them. Did something happen? You reached for your phone, unlocking it and checking your messages. No missed calls, no missed texts - nothing from him or the other Heroes at the agency. Was he just not home yet?

You lifted the comforter off your legs and slipped out of bed. Luckily, your window faced the driveway so you should be able to see his car.

It was dark, but the clouds seemed to provide their own bit of light. You blinked through the rain, focusing on the orange tinted street lights that dotted your road. The trees swayed in the wind and the windchimes gently clinked in the distance. And there, nestled in the driveway, was Katsuki’s car. So he made it home safe. Good - his tires needed changed before the bad weather rolled in. You made a mental note to do that before summer ended.

Well, at least he was home. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he gone to bed? And why hadn’t Haku made his way into your room - especially at this hour.

You shut the window before making your way out into the hall.

You didn’t bother to turn on the lights - if Katsuki had fallen asleep on the couch, the light would surely wake him up. You moved quietly, keeping an ear out for any sounds. It wasn’t until you passed Haku’s room that you stopped.

The light from his bedside table cast a soft glow over the room. Toys were scattered all across the floor - from blocks to hand me down All Might dolls. It was a mess of colors, wood, and plastic. And there in the middle of the room was a black duffle bag, opened with a stuffed whale peaking out from inside black, red, and green clothes.

Movement from the bed drew your attention there. Your eyes fell on the sleeping face of Haku and Bakugou - your boys. Bakugou’s feet were dangling off the bed while Haku was happily curled around his father’s form. They were a mess of sleeping limbs, of messy blonde hair and soft snores. There was a peace hanging over the room, safety that explained why your son hadn’t felt the need to migrate to your bed.

You watched them for a moment longer, leaning against the doorframe. You had never thought, in all your years, you could love anything as much as you loved those two. No matter what on earth was going on, whatever villains or bills or unplanned events, everything seemed so...tiny compared to them. You hadn’t realized you were smiling. With a soft sigh, you stepped over the toys to grab the quilt from the toybox.

You took great care to make sure both of them were covered. It would probably get cold in the morning, no need to them to feel it. Haku didn’t move, hugging his father’s chest so tightly. A mama’s boy he may be, but nothing would ever match up to his father. His protector, his hero, his best friend. He adored him, loved him with everything he had.

You pressed your fingers to your lips, before pressing them to Haku’s forehead. “Love you, little bug.” You whispered, just above a breath.

But it was enough to wake Bakugou, ever so slightly. You felt him shift beneath you, heard the deep intake of breath as his bright red eyes darted around the room...before landing on your face. He let a huff before closing them again, “Hey...” He rumbled.

“Hey.” You had to stop yourself from laughing. You rested yourself down on the edge of the bed. “You gonna sleep in here tonight?”

“Mmm-mmm.” He gave a weak shake of his head. “I’ll be in...”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm.”

God, he was perfect. It hit you sometimes, at random points during the day. When he would come home, make dinner, or just fall asleep on the couch. Every little thing he did was magic.

You smiled, knowing full well he was going to be here until morning. “Okay.” You leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

He wasn’t so asleep that he couldn’t reciprocate. You felt his lips press back against yours, once, twice, then three times. It left you wanting more, but if he were to pass out in this cramped little space, you figured he was probably exhausted. Still, it was hard to tear your eyes away from him. “I love you.” You whispered, gently.

He didn’t answer. Probably asleep already. He worked so hard to provide for you, to be the best hero he could be. He would never admit it, but you knew he was well aware of Haku’s admiration for him. Before, when you and him had simply been dating, Bakugou had wanted to be the hero for your standard reasons: Money, fame, recognition, the desire to help people. But when Haku was old enough to realize exactly what his father was? That people loved Daddy because he was strong, because he could protect and help people, he could stop bad people who wanted to hurt them - that he would always win so he could come home to you and him. Well...

Haku thought the world of Bakugou. And that always seemed to make Bakugou work all the more to be the best. To be something worthy of his son’s unconditional love and adoration.

You reached over and shut out the light, casting the room in darkness save for the Crimson Riot night light on the far side of the wall. You used it’s little golden glow to guide your path through the mess, stopping to pick up the duffle bag on your way. Tossing one last look over your shoulders and giving them one last smile, you moved to shut the door.

“Hey.”

You stopped, opening the door just a little bit further to peer back into the room. Bakugo still had his eyes closed and hadn’t moved at all. You were almost ready to turn back around when he spoke again.

“Love you too.”

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griffintail · 3 years

Text

Finding a Forgotten Memory

Summary: A happy ending for this post and this one.

Pairings: Parental! Ghostbur x F! Child! Reader

Tommy x F! Child! Reader

Warnings: ANGST! But there’s a happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy swept his gear on the floor as he paced the length of his bedroom in his hotel, warm tears rolling down his face.

He remembered the day Ghostbur had stormed into his home, balling, his tears creating smoke, that he couldn’t find his little blue. He had assured the ghost, she was fine. Probably hiding or she wandered a little farther than she should have.

Grabbing his sword in case the search took too long, he followed Ghostbur into his sewer he’d moved back into after Tommy’s freedom from exile. Inside, Tommy had a few doubts as he looked at the bit of wreckage around the place.

“Did you do this looking for her Ghostbur?” Tommy asked, sitting a barrel upright.

“N-No. I-I s-s-s-he…” The ghost couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

“I’ll look outside. Stay here in case she comes back alright?”

Ghostbur nodded rapidly, clutching onto an already full piece of blue. Tommy nodded before leaving the sewer calmly then booking it to Phil’s.

“Phil!” Tommy shouted, slamming the door open, startling the man and his crows. “There’s something wrong with Ghostbur.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Phil immediately stood up.

Tommy explained the situation and they both gathered everyone they could, a search party formed. (Y/N)’s name was shouted into the wind as everyone separated into many corners of the Dream SMP land and the L’Manberg land. Even people like Sapnap and Punz helped them look in their more familiar areas.

But they couldn’t find the little girl and mobs had started to come out. Tommy, Phil, Techno, Fundy, and a few of L’Manberg citizens continued their searches. Techno and Phil went into more in-depth searches or rather questionings. Yet…there was no word of her…

That was the night Phil fabricated the lie.

“We’ll only use it till we figure out what happened. Ghostbur will have to believe it because Fundy refuses to talk to him but he likes (Y/N).” Phil assured the younger as he fidgeted in worry.

They’d try to figure out what happened in the next few days!

…

Then a few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months…

They’d lost hope and even though there was no message on the walkies, they knew the magic had a range and (Y/N) …she had to be gone…They didn’t know what happened, could only speculate.

Time had to move on and people grieved, Tommy taking it hard as the little girl had helped him through hell without knowing. She was part of his family and she had made him smile when he needed it the most, not even knowing he had needed her little games and laughs. He wished he had those when he had gone through the final battle with Dream, yet even after his victory, he continued to grieve and now seethe as Dream dangled a fruit of revival in front of him.

Listening to the same horse shit, day after day…

They had told Ghostbur once or twice in the beginning but Phil told everyone to keep up the lie when the ghost would just break completely, unable to function at all. Tommy couldn’t handle it anymore that Ghostbur didn’t remember the one thing he thought the ghost would never forget. That he wasn’t grieving like him. The little girl only helped Tommy through a rough time but that same little girl was Ghostbur’s entire world! It wasn’t fair to her memory that Ghostbur simply forgot the end of it!

He knew the ghost couldn’t help it and that the ghost would break if he actually remembered but it frustrated him to no end because Tommy didn’t forget and broke at his own memories and he couldn’t live like this anymore! He…he couldn’t let the little girl be gone any longer…

He looked at the prison from his window, before clenching his hands. He needed to pay an “old friend” a visit.

…

Tommy stood on the other side of the netherite blocks as the lava behind him finished cascaded down and the barrier was gone between him and the smiley masked man.

“Tommy! What do I owe the pleasure?” Dream asked, spreading his arms as he laughed.

“Business. I want that revive book Dream.”

“The revive book? You know I can’t just give that to you Tommy. I won’t revive Wil—”

“Not…Wilbur,” Tommy muttered.

Yes, the boy wanted his older brother back but he wanted this little girl back first.

“Not Wilbur? Who would you want? Not Schlatt.” Dream mocked and Tommy clenched his jaw.

“Just shut up you bastard and listen!” Tommy shouted and Dream stopped, watching. “You’re going to bring (Y/N) back or I’ll never visit you again and we both know how much you want me to visit.”

Dream stood there before grinning wickedly behind his mask. “(Y/N)? Huh. You’re going to have to remind me who they are…”

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO SHE IS!” Tommy snapped, doing his best to keep his tears in. “She was the little girl you hated because she made me happy during exile!!”

“Oooh, right. Ghostbur’s kid.” He chuckled, turning from him. “How’s he doing?”

Tommy restrained himself with great difficulty.

“Such a bad memory, his child going missing, I’m sure he’s practically been destroyed…”

Tommy felt the warm tears in the corner of his eyes as he took deep breaths.

“Or did he finally forget the little brat?”

He lost it.

He pinned Dream to the obsidian wall and barked at his smiley mask.

“YOU’RE GOING TO BRING HER BACK RIGHT NOW YOU GREEN FUCKING PRICK!”

Then Tommy saw his wicked grin under his mask.

“I’d love to Tommy, but I can’t bring back what’s living.”

“W-What?” Tommy sputtered, confused.

Dream laughed as Tommy let him go.

“You never saw the message because there was no message to have! It wasn’t my goal after all to kill her.”

Tommy’s world stopped before his heart pounded. She…She was still alive?! But Dream had been in prison for three months after they finally decided she was gone. She…She wouldn’t have survived…

“And now that you know, the clock is ticking Tommy. Will you lose her and have to deal with another ghost? Of course, I can make it simple. Let me out and I’ll give her right back.”

Tommy shook. He had mourned for her. He had stopped…looking for her…

Shaking his head, Tommy stepped behind the barrier, it going up, shocking Dream. No, Tommy needed to make this right.

“I’ll find her. Suck it, green boy.” Tommy snarled, before stepping onto the bridge.

“YOU WON’T! SHE’LL DIE BEFORE YOU FIND HER TOMMY! ONLY I KNOW WHERE SHE IS AND SHE’LL STARVE SLOWLY!”

But Dream underestimated Tommy’s determination…

…

“PHIL!” Tommy shouted on the walkie as he sprinted back for his hotel for his gear.

“Don’t talk to me, Tommy! How could—” Phil started to yell at him.

“(Y/N) IS STILL ALIVE!”

“W-What?” Phil stopped.

“I went to Dream to revive her and he admitted to taking her. She’s still alive. We need to find her now!”

Tommy slid slightly as he got to the entrance of the hotel before dashing in.

“H-How, what?!”

“IT’S A LONG STORY NOW WE NEED TO LOOK! We need to every fucking place Dream’s ever been!”

They had figured she had been kidnapped. They just hadn’t known by who. Dream had been prime suspect, but even then, he had an alibi; and at the time, they couldn’t exactly search the most powerful man’s places.

“O-Ok. Ok! I’ll get everyone!”

Tommy grabbed his gear and went to meet with everyone else. The search was back months later but they had new information. Dream was tricky with his hiding and everyone had to be clever as they went into different corners of the world…

Tommy didn’t sleep for two days as they searched everywhere they could as his thoughts went rampant. What if Dream was just messing with him again? Lying to get him to let him out! What if Tommy had just given everyone false hope…

Then as the sun just breaking into light purples on a new day, Tubbo cried out on the walkie.

“WE FOUND SOMETHING! WE FOUND SOMETHING IN DREAM’S BUNKER!”

Fear didn’t even grip Tommy as he sprinted for the nether portal. Tubbo, Ranboo, and a small crew of others took to the task of taking the bunker physically apart in hopes to find anything.

Tubbo justified by saying this was where Dream had held his biggest cards. He wouldn’t have kept (Y/N) too far from there.

Tommy stumbled into the room as he saw Ranboo standing back to be there if someone got stuck as Tubbo, Foolish, and Jack carefully digging around a mechanism they had destroyed. Tommy pulled out his own pick and joined them.

After some time, they managed to crumble away stone into a hallway.

“I’ll go,” Tommy muttered.

He hated the tight space of the hall but he had to know and if it was a trap, he wanted to take it. Carefully going down the hall with his axe instead, he didn’t go too far before he found a door. Opening it slowly, he found a plain room and…a little girl in a dirty blue hoodie spinning around bored in the room.

“(Y/N)!” Tommy choked on a sob before dashing into the room and hugging her tightly.

She yelped in surprise before grinning widely. “Uncle Tommy! I told Dream you’d visit!”

Tommy cried as he squeezed her. She was so naïve as always. She hadn’t changed in the missing months…He missed his niece so much.

“Your crying! I don’t have any blue.” She said, looking around the empty room.

“I-I’m ok (Y/N).” He laughed quietly. “They’re happy tears…but there’s a ghost that would love to see you…”

She gasped. “I missed daddy! Is he here?”

“No…but I know he’d love to play a game of hide and seek…”

“Ok, do you have any food? The tall man hasn’t brought me any.” She explained as he stood up.

He frowned in confusion before his eyes went wide. The person that had been helping Dream while he was in prison.

“(Y/N), what did she look like?” Tommy asked quickly.

She shrugged. “He was very tall and he wore funny clothes and he wore a mask.”

“Like Dream’s?”

She shook her head. Tommy frowned deeply. Who the hell had been helping him?

“I don’t have food on me but I’m sure Ghostbur will gladly give you dinner.”

She grinned as he carried her out. The others cheered seeing the pair, sharing hugs with her as Tommy continued to hold her. Everyone over the radio celebrated as Ranboo made the announcement. Phil nearly collapsed in happiness when they got to L’Manberg, relieved he hadn’t lost another child he had helped care for.

Reluctantly, before Tommy brought her to the sewer, Tommy told her not to tell Ghostbur about her “trip”. It was a little secret between the two of them. She promised not to tell and Tommy brought her into the sewer, seeing Ghostbur was doing his daily morning to find his little blue. He hid (Y/N) in a barrel he knew Ghostbur checked before rushing out.

He waited by the door as he heard a cry of laughter, smiling lightly before leaving, his work done.

“There you are little blue! It’s breakfast time, not time to play hide and seek!” Ghostbur laughed, hugging the little girl tightly, not really understanding why he had before he gasped hearing her stomach rumble. “You’re starving! Let’s have a big breakfast!”

She giggled, agreeing with him as she snuggled into him.

“Your hoodie is getting dirty, we’ll wash that before we go visit Phil and Tommy, ok?”

“Ok, daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too my little blue. I love you so much.” He muttered without thinking, nuzzling the top of her hoodie.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #ghostbur x reader #tommyinnit x reader #dreamsmp x reader

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miyagihawk · 3 years

Text

why’d you only call me when you’re high? pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

here’s part 2 by popular demand! based off the arctic monkeys song and amazing request by @deadbeatharlz <3 thank you guys for the support on part 1 im so happy you liked it :)

warnings: self harming behavior, LOTS of swearing, alcohol and drug abuse, sooo so angstyyyy buckle up

summary: it’s been 3 months since your last night with hawk, and you haven’t been yourself.

word count: 3,062

The past 3 months have been rough. Maybe the worst you’ve ever been. You fell into the deep hole that you dug yourself. The hole of loving Hawk Moskowitz.

You never thought you’d be one of those people who let unrequited love devastate their whole being. In fact you always thought the whole heartbreak thing was pathetic and melodramatic. Until it happened to you.

You hate yourself for letting him have this effect on you. But there’s a pestering voice in the back of your mind that reminds you: it’s all your fault. He didn’t ask you to love him. It’s just easier to blame him for your downfall.

Parties, drugs, alcohol. Sex with people you don’t even know. High on the same drug that compelled him to call you in the night.

You’ve become so desperate to forget him that you ruined yourself. It hurts your pride to be the whiny heartbroken girl who let a stupid boy’s rejection shatter her self worth. But the hole is too deep and there’s no hope trying to grasp onto the dirt walls to get out.

The worst part of it is that he sees it all. At school, (if you even go) he looks at you like the scum of the earth as he passes by with his little karate gang. When you end up at the same party, he’ll have a disgusted expression on his face and leave as if he can’t bare to look at you.

Tonight is one of those nights, and you watch him from across the backyard as he goofs around with his friends. He hasn’t noticed you yet, hence why he’s even still here and not on his way out the door to get away from you.

“If you stare at him any longer, I think he’ll shoot up into flames,” your best friend Robby hands you a cup, and you don’t hesitate before downing its unknown contents. The burn in your throat makes you hum with content.

“That’s the plan,” you take your eyes of off Hawk to look at Robby. You gesture to his own cup in his hand, “Are you gonna drink that?”

“Easy there, Y/N. We got here 5 minutes ago,” he warns, but holds out the drink towards you anyway. Robby’s always been worried about you and your habits, but he knows how you can be when you’re told no.

You swallow down the drink in a few seconds, ignoring his remark. “5 minutes? I can beat my record!” you cheer sarcastically, and start walking to the kitchen in search of a keg. Robby follows closely behind you, a wary look on his face.

The fuzzy feeling starts to take over your body as you throw back drink after drink. It’s the buzz you crave every second of every day because it just makes you feel so good. Everything is happier and your cares feel so far away. Hawk feels so far away.

You sit on the couch next to Robby in your dazed trance, drunkenly rambling to him about random things. He glares at anyone who comes near you and looks like they would take advantage of you in your state.

Robby really hates you like this, but he can’t help but feel protective over you. He’s not even a fan of parties; he really only goes to keep an eye on you. You’re grateful even though you act like you hate it when he babysits you.

“Heyyy pretty Y/N! Want some?” Yasmine approaches where you sit, a joint held between her fingers. Her eyes are drooped and she sways as she stands.

You reach out to take the blunt, but you feel Robby push your arm down. “You’re already drunk. That’s enough,” he says sternly, making you roll your eyes.

“I can do what I want, Dad,” you taunt, and take the joint from Yasmine. Smoke fills up your lungs, immediately giving you pleasure. Robby just shakes his head in disapproval as the air around him becomes hazy.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here,” he orders, getting up from the couch.

You nod, but of course, you don’t listen. The sound of splashing from outside sets off a lightbulb above your head and you feel like you’re floating while you walk to the backyard.

Right as you step out of the house, you make eye contact with none other than Hawk. He gives you a distasteful look like always, before turning back to his group. Asshole.

You just scoff and stumble towards the pool, where a couple is making out and a few people are drunkenly playing with the water like little kids.

Reaching the edge of the pool’s rim, you let yourself fall in with a splash. You feel the pressure in your ears start to build as you sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re cross faded, but being underwater feels like a world of bliss.

The loud music of the party is muted, creating a sense of serenity. The legs of the other people in the pool make you laugh to yourself, sending bubbles from your mouth to the surface. It’s glittery and pretty and you want to stay forever.

You don’t know how long you’re under there for, but you don’t notice your lungs running out of air. It just feels good to be alone for a second. Next thing you know, you feel your eyes start to droop closed; a strange peace overcoming your body.

A loud thrashing noise in the water makes you wake up with a gasp. You swallow too much water as you feel someone grab hold of your arm. It’s all a blur and you’re being pulled up to the surface, taking you away from the tranquil world you were just in.

The music is pounds against your ears again and the air is cold on your skin. You feel your body being laid down on the concrete of the poolside, but everything feels numb. You just feel sleepy and you want to close your eyes again.

“Y/N, hey, wake up. Wake up,” a voice makes your eyes shoot back open. Someone is looking down at you, with a hand shaking your shoulder. Your vision is somewhat blurry, but the mohawk gives it away. It’s him.

You suddenly become aware of the large amount of water in your lungs and you turn over to your side to cough it up. After you get it all out, you notice the people at the party looking at you with eyes of pity mixed with judgement.

“What the fuck were you doing? You could’ve died, are you fucking stupid?” Hawk curses, but even in your inebriated state you can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You sit up to face him. He looks angry; his clothes and hair are as wet as yours.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in your brain, or maybe it’s the marijuana and alcohol, but you just feel the urge to laugh. So you do. Like a complete maniac. The way he probably just saved your life like he cares is sickly comedic to you.

His face twists in confusion as you break out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? You’re fucking insane, Y/N,” he gets up, shaking his head at you. He gives a glare to the people staring, and they look away in fear.

You think he’s going to leave like usual, but he surprises you by grabbing your arm to pull you up. People whisper amongst themselves as he drags you through the backyard, going through a gate that leads to front of the house. You trip over your own feet, still feeling dizzy from almost drowning, but he just pulls you along.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tugging on your arm to try and release it from the tight grip he has on you. You’re both dripping chlorinated water, leaving a track of drops on the concrete below.

“You’re going home Y/N,” he says sternly. You two arrive at his car and he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Hey!” a voice yells from the house and you both turn to see Robby rushing towards the car. He looks pissed, and now you remember him telling you to stay put. Shit.

“Robby I-”

“Don’t get in there with him Y/N,” he says, sending a death stare to the boy next to you.

“I’m taking her home, Keene, so back the fuck off. Get in Y/N,” Hawk snaps, clenching his fists.

You keep quiet, not wanting to add to the fire already starting. They loathe each other; if not because of the karate rivalry, then because of you. To Robby, Hawk broke your heart and made you spiral. To Hawk, Robby is the piece of shit who he thinks is your boyfriend, and he won’t admit it but he’s jealous.

“You’re not driving her, asshole. You’re probably as drunk as her,” Robby reaches to take your arm, but Hawk pulls you back.

“You don’t know shit about me, Keene. I’ve been sober for three months, so yeah, I will drive her,” Hawk picks you up like you’re a doll, placing you in the passenger seat and closing the door. You don’t resist, you just feel tired and your head starts to pound as if the mix of drugs in your system are punishing you. The window’s down, so you can still hear the two boys loud and clear.

I’ve been sober for three months, his voice echoes in your head.

“Oh so now you care so much about her? It’s your fault she’s like this!” Robby raises his voice even more, starting to move towards Hawk threateningly. You begin to feel scared that a physical fight might actually break out, but you don’t know what to do.

“I’m not the one who almost let her die a few minutes ago, am I? Just fuck off, we’re leaving,” Hawk dismisses him, walking around the car to the driver’s seat. You’re surprised by his self control to not throw a punch, especially with his reputation.

“Robby, it’s okay. I just want to go home. I’ll call you, alright?” you reach your hand out of the window in reassurance and he takes hold of it. Hawk clenches his jaw as he turns on the engine.

“Promise you’ll be careful? I’m sorry I left you,” Robby furrows his eyebrows in worry. When he came out of the bathroom, someone filled him in on what happened to you and he almost had a heart attack.

“Promise. And it’s my fault,” you hook your pinky with his, before the car pulls out of the curb and separates you from your best friend. He watches you guys drive away, an anxious expression etched on his face.

The whole situation has sobered you up pretty well, and now you’re left with a throbbing headache, wet clothes, and awkward tension. You hate it. Being sober. You miss the foggy feeling that prevents you from thinking too hard about things. But now you’re inches away from the boy who broke your heart, all by choice.

You don’t know why you agreed to go with him, but did you even have a choice? You’re confused by his actions. He acts like he hates you but he jumps in a pool for you. He yelled at you but he’s driving you home. It all makes you overthink and it causes your head to ache even more.

You hold your head in your hands to try and ease the pain as Hawk drives quietly.

“You good?” he breaks the silence. His voice is softer compared to how he talked to Robby minutes ago.

“Head hurts,” you mumble.

“What were you doing back there? If I didn’t get you out, you’d probably be in the hospital right now,” he says. You peek at him through your hands and his eyes are on the road.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It was just peaceful. I didn’t really even think about breathing.”

He scoffs. “Well that’s just fucking stupid. You’re lucky I noticed you were under for so long.”

“Well thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling like a little kid being scolded.

There’s a couple beats of silence before he speaks, “What happened to you?”

The question makes you sit up and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The old Y/N wouldn’t even touch a drink. You’re different,” Hawk taps his finger on the wheel in thought. His icy blue eyes quickly glance at your confused look before returning to the road.

“You happened, Hawk.” You pinch your temples in frustration. Anger starts to bubble up in your stomach at his criticism. At the mention of “old you”.

“I didn’t do this to you,” he shakes his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

“You did,” you raise your voice, making him flinch. “You know it.”

“What, because I stopped sleeping with you? I didn’t make you fall in love with me, Y/N. You did that to yourself,” he spits, sending a knife to your heart and making you see red.

“You knew I loved you way before I said it. But you still stringed me along, didn’t you? You knew I would pick up everytime you called. You knew that I would let you into my bed because I was the girl who loved you no matter how fucking shitty you were!” you fire back, vomiting out words that you’ve wanted to say for months. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder than usual, but you’re grateful for it.

He’s at a loss for words at your outburst so you continue, “I didn’t ask for this Hawk. Loving you. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden and that you hate me so much that you can’t stand being in the same room as me. But please just answer me this and I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll leave when we show up at the same party and I’ll even hide in the halls so you don’t have to see my face.”

You pause, choking on your words. You didn’t even realize that the car is already parked in front of your house and your clothes are halfway dry.

“Why don’t you love me?” your voice cracks as you spit out the question that has caused you to throw yourself away. The question with an answer that could dissipate your self worth in a mere moment.

Hawk finally looks into your glassy eyes with shock. He could’ve never anticipated what you asked him and his mouth runs dry.

“I told you, I- I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he swallows, but you shake your head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He blinks slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse, to avoid telling you the truth. You can see the inner conflict on his face, the panicked speed of his running thoughts.

“You should go home, Y/N,” he deflects, turning away from you. Putting on his mask to keep you from reading him like a book.

“I’m not going until you tell me,” you demand.

“Just get out of the car, fuck!” Hawk yells, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. It makes you jump a little, but you’re too angry to fear the flames in his eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me!” you fire back. “You came to me almost every night, so why do I feel something that you don’t? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you want me to fucking say Y/N! That I do love you? Fucking fine. I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Just get out.”

I love you.

The same words you said that made him leave.

“You don’t even mean that,” you blink back your tears.

His voice is softer now, more gentle. “If I didn’t mean it then I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You said you needed me and then you left me,” your voice shakes and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” he stammers before taking a deep breath. “I left because you wanted something more than I could give you. I would’ve felt like a selfish asshole if we became more than just sex, Y/N. You deserve someone like Keene and yeah he’s a pussy but he’s good. Better than me.”

It feels like every piece in the puzzle is being put together. Everything makes sense. He does love you, but he was just afraid. He can’t be near you because it hurts too much to see someone he can’t have. Somehow, you can’t find the anger you’ve held against him for these past months; you just understand him now.

“I’m sorry, alright? For everything. For treating your feelings like shit. All of it.”

You swallow, thinking about his words. It all feels too much and the truth is now looking you in the eye, demanding an answer. You love him, but he dropped your heart on the floor for you to pick up every shard. Is one sorry going to magically fix everything?

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit, and he nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... move on. And you get better... I hate seeing you like this,” Hawk scans your red eyes and dilated pupils. “We’ll get to a better place and you and me, we’ll be good.”

It’s bittersweet, but he’s right. Being together now just because he loves you back would be a huge jump that would only end in broken hearts and toxic cycles. It would be foolish. As much as you want him, the only person who can fix you is yourself.

So it’s a meet up at the top of the mountain, when you’ve both made the journey from opposite sides.

“A better place,” you reiterate, before placing a light kiss to his cheek and leaving the car with a new sense of closure.

a/n: that was longer than i planned and a freaking roller coaster!!!!!!! im not sure if there should be a part 3? lmk what you think maybe it’ll just be short. but hehe i added robby into the mix he was so cute. ty for reading!

taglist for people who wanted part 2 :) ty friends for the support <3 @littlered6307 @deadbeatharlz @spiderman-berries @axastasiasstuff @r0-xie @estupidteen @hawkwhore @idkwhatishouldput4

#eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai #hawk moskowitz

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wkemeup · 3 years

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Sunrise (2)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: heavy focus on Bucky’s PTSD/anxiety, hella nervous!bucky, dangerously sweet!y/n 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“What the hell do you mean ‘you’re not going’?”

Bucky shrugged, taking a bite of the bagel Steve picked up on his way to the apartment. He flinched as Steve flung open the curtains, expelling a cloud of dust as the sunlight invaded the living room, illuminating over months of untouched mail on the coffee table and crumbs in the carpet.

Sam kept his eyes burning on Bucky from the other end of the table. “You can’t back out now, Barnes. She’s expecting you!”

“What’s this about again?” Steve asked as he slid into the chair beside Bucky.

“Book club. Y/n. Barnes is being a coward again,” Sam explained a little too nonchalantly for Bucky's taste.

“I’m not being a coward,” Bucky grumbled, avoiding Sam’s eyes and very much proving his friend’s point. “I’ve just— I’ve got better things to do.”

He regretted it the moment it left his lips because both Sam and Steve exchanged a less than subtle, irritatingly familiar glance.

“Yeah, like what?” Steve scoffed. He extended his arms out to gesture to the empty apartment. “You got tons of plans this week? Think you might see sunlight again or did someone hang garlic in the hallway?”

“Shut up,” Bucky warned, rolling his eyes. It had been a few days since he’d ventured out to the VA for the first time and it was more than he’d done in weeks. It should have been enough for these two, but it never was. They always wanted more out of him. They couldn’t just leave him to rot in his apartment, could they?

“It’s Sunday, you know,” Sam said, devilish smirk rising on his face.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I’m well aware.”

“Come on, man!” Sam groaned, slamming his hand on the table enough to cause a ripple in the coffee mugs. “I saw the way you were looking at her. You can’t tell me seeing her again isn’t a good enough reason to go...”

Bucky’s cheeks flushed red. They burned hot on his skin and it only seemed to make it worse. He’d never been like this before he was discharged – flustered and easily embarrassed. He supposed before he came home with one less limb and baggage the size of his living room, he didn’t have much to be embarrassed about. He was a flirt, a bit shameless about it, too. He’d had girlfriends and hookups and never thought much about it.

But now? The vague idea of even presuming to be interested in a woman was borderline laughable. What chance could he possibly have? He was washed up and broken, missing a few pieces, and half off his rocker. There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d go for a guy like him. It was easier to just pretend like he didn’t care, give into the empty void he believed his heart to be, and waste away.

“Seeing her again isn’t a good enough reason to go,” Bucky said flatly, much to Sam’s annoyance. It was a bold-faced lie, one all three of them were well aware of, but it didn’t mean Bucky needed to give them the satisfaction of admitting it.

He thought of you in that sunset red sweater, holding a book tight to your chest with that sort of bright starlight look in your eyes as you listened intently to a retired vet go on and on about his personal connection to some corny book. He’d only met you for maybe a span of a few minutes, and still, he could somehow still picture your smile. He wanted to see it again.

But there was a sharp pain in his left arm; it burned, enough for Bucky to reach across his chest and try to put pressure on it, only to slip through thin air and land against his ribs. The pain remained, like an extension of himself, on an arm that was no longer apart of him. There and not there all at once. He groaned.

“It’s not a good enough reason, Sam,” Bucky repeated. “I’m not going. She probably won’t even notice.”

Another lie.

Sam shook his head, the smile quickly leaving his face in favor of one Bucky knew all too well. Disappointment. Frustration. The thing was, it didn’t hurt as much when Bucky was purposeful in creating it.

“I thought you liked her?” Steve asked cautiously, eyes catching Sam’s for only a moment before he turned back to Bucky. They’d been talking about him. He hated when they did that.

“I don’t even know her, Steve,” Bucky shot back. He shouldn’t be getting angry with them. They were only trying to help. And yet here he was – pushing away the only two people left in his life that still managed to tolerate him. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw, trying to push past it. “She’s nice, okay? She’s pretty. Is that what you want me to say?”

Steve sat back in his chair, exhausted. “I want you to be happy, Buck.”

Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, well, shoulda thought of that before I got myself blown up.”

“Bucky--”

“Let it go, man,” Sam sighed, setting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Bucky felt like he could sink straight into his chair. Why did he always do this?

“I hope you change your mind,” Sam said simply, gathering up his things as he and Steve started to make their way to the door. “It could be good for you.”

Bucky knew what he meant by that, the underlaying message hidden just beneath the surface: she could be good for you.

Right on cue, the pain started up again in his arm that was both there and not there, and Bucky tried to grit his teeth through it, though Sam could spot the tells almost immediately: his right-hand gripping to the arm rest, the flinch in his jaw, the short tense breaths.

Sam sighed, pausing in the door frame. “We’ll be back in a few days. Try to clean up the place, will you? It’s a shithole in here.”

“Ma said she’d bake you cobbler if you promise to eat it,” Steve offered, too hopeful for his own good. It had been Bucky’s favorite once; the sort of dessert he talked about on desert nights when the mess hall served day old meatloaf and bland potatoes. He didn’t have much of an appetite these days.

Bucky forced out a smile for his friend’s sake and nodded.

A familiar silence swept over the apartment as the door closed behind them. It had been a comfort once; a darkness that swept around his shoulders like a blanket. It kept him isolated and suffocated and still, safe.

Now, it mocked him.

He stared at the knob on the door, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. He’d done this about a dozen times before, trying to convince himself to do something more with his days than waste away in an expensive one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.

Steve was right. What the hell else was he going to do today? Stare at the wall for a few hours? Pretend to watch TV and not catch a single word of dialogue? Make a meal he wouldn’t eat?

He thought of you again. How you might scan the room in search of him and a frown might pull at the corner of your lips to not find him amongst the crowd. He wondered if you’d be dressed in yellow or orange or if you’d resemble a cloudless sky as the sun touched over the peaks of the city in soft pinks and purples.

He wanted to know so badly it was killing him.

“Fuck.”

He dragged his feet to the bedroom to find something half decent to wear.

***

It had been a less than ideal start to your day.

The children’s reading presentation at the library got a little out of hand when the speaker – a local theater student – got caught up in the voices and scared half of the toddlers to tears as he took some interesting liberties with The Cat in the Hat.

Then, a rather unpleasant woman yelled at you for twenty minutes about a man sleeping on the bench outside the near the entrance as if it were a personal affront that this man, a little down on his luck, dared to catch a few minutes of sleep in a public place.

The internet was shotty all day, leaving a few college students red in the face and with fat tears matching those of the toddlers in the next room over when hours' worth of work had suddenly disappeared in front of their eyes.

And of course – the teenagers. A band of four boys who hid under the brim of baseball caps with skateboards tucked under their arms, who found it rather amusing to stalk out the adult section and flip through the sorts of novels with bare chested men on the cover until their snickering could be heard from the floor below.

It warranted a coffee, at least.

The only solace was that it was Sunday. Your favorite day of the week. It meant a few hours at the VA and catching up with the guys. You hadn’t seen Natasha in a while and you were hoping to see how her new job at the security firm had gone. She was exceptionally qualified and you were almost certain you had her interview answers memorized by the time you’d finished practicing together.

But there was something different about this Sunday, something that left a few butterflies in your stomach where an easy contentment usually belonged. You were nervous, but there was an excitement, too.

There’d be a new face in attendance.

A beautiful face.

A face that you imagined required a double take were you to see it for the first time on a busy street.

“You’re smiling again there, darling.”

You looked up to find Mrs. Jefferson keeping a careful eye on you from over the top of her reading glasses. She wore a smile upon her face, one that blended into the laugh lines by her eyes. Her hand trembled with a familiar quiver as she reached up and slid the glasses off her nose. They rested comfortably on a purple beaded chain as they hung around her neck.

“You always have so much going on inside that head of yours,” she quipped, chuckling to herself. She was a slow mover as she turned to the computer to begin typing in her code. “Have you checked out the books for the VA yet?”

“Already done,” you confirmed, your mind still a little in the clouds. Coffee would definitely need to be a requirement before you stepped foot in the VA.

“Get a move on then,” Mrs. Jefferson said, gesturing to the door with a trembling hand. “I know you like to get donuts for the kids.”

You still had a few minutes left on shift, but Mrs. Jefferson was always so understanding. She had a son who was in the military once who saw about four tours. Always had a habit of going back, she’d said, like he was testing his luck. You weren’t sure how he’d died, but you knew he didn’t have the chance to go back for a fifth.

She was a part of a group no one wanted to be in: those who have lost someone to war. Membership cost was steep and there was no going back once it was paid. It was a lonely group, one far too many people occupied. Your own membership card was heavy in your pocket.

You glanced toward the door. The sun was shining bright on the pavement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

She smiled. “Yes, of course, dear. Tell the boys I said hello.”

“Yes, ma’am!” you called as you gathered your things and the shoulder bag stuffed with books and quickly scurried out the door before another disaster could reel you back inside.

The sun was warm on your skin and you took a minute to savor it before shoulders started to bump into you, forcing you off balance. You could see your breath in the autumn air, and still, the sun touched your cheeks and left behind a comfort there. Smile on your face, heavy bag draped over your shoulder, you resided to grab coffee and donuts at a café close to the VA before book club started.

It was one you visited a few times before, right across the street from a painfully busy Starbucks. The quaint coffee shop was often empty inside, save for a few college students with headphones in, typing away at their laptops, and a regular you often saw nursing a black coffee by the front windows, watching the people as they walked by.

It smelled of coffee beans as you stepped inside. Fresh. Aromatic. You took in a deep breath.

“Ah, Y/n!” a voice called from the back in a thick Colombian accent. “It’s good to see you again!”

“Hi, Luciana,” you laughed as the woman who owned the shop rounded the corner behind the counter and ran out to give you a hug. She was a tiny woman, short and shout, but her hugs could render even a giant of a man to a puddle.

“Donuts for your friends down at the VA again?” she asked, releasing you from her embrace, though she still managed to pinch your cheek on the way out.

“Yes, please!”

“And coffee for yourself?”

She knew you too well.

“I could use a bit of a pick-me-up,” you admitted. She knew your order by heart.

“You should see if that Sam wants to have some good coffee for a change at his next event instead of the bean water he serves our veterans now,” Luciana inquired as she pulled on a pair of gloves and began to stack your box with assorted donuts. She had that smile on her face you recognized well. She asked about Sam a lot.

“I’ll be sure to get his thoughts,” you replied, trying to stifled a smile.

“Have him come by,” she offered rather smoothly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen his pretty face and I could use a little pick-me-up myself.”

She winked at you and set the box of donuts on the counter. Then, your coffee; lid pressed on top, cardboard around the edges to protect from heat. You reached for your wallet but she snuck her hand over the counter and grabbed your wrist.

“No, no, not today, my dear. My treat.”

You parted your lips to protest but she shook her again.

“Tell those kids to come visit me every once in a while, okay? I’ve got a discount for ‘em,” she offered, bright smile over painted red lips. She waved you off and you knew there was no arguing with her.

“That’s very kind of you, Luciana. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“So will my business, dear.” There was that wink again.

You laughed, heading for the door. “I’ll see you next week!”

The bell rang on your way out.

The VA wasn’t more than a few blocks from Luciana’s, but the bag piled high with books was starting to weigh on your shoulder. It didn’t help that you had to weave expertly between the pedestrians to balance your coffee and the donut box, too; tourists walking about 10 mph too slow and locals stuck in their path with no qualms of shoving you out of their way if you managed to jump in their trajectory.

As you approached the VA, the crowd began to disperse. There weren’t too many people who frequented this street as there was little more than the VA building itself to occupy the tourists. You were surprised to find a man standing in front of the doors, staring up at the building as if it offended him in some way.

Dark brown hair tucked under a baseball cap, just barely peeking out at the nape of his neck. Right hand tucked deep into his pocket, rigid in his stance as he stared down the double doors. He was talking to himself, you realized, judging by the soft clouds of chilled air by his mouth.

James Barnes.

Bucky.

A smile suddenly took over your face, enough that you had to bite down on the edge of your lip in an effort to suppress it. You’d hoped he would come, but Sam had talked about his friend Bucky long before you met him in the empty library of the VA a few days prior. He didn’t say ‘yes’ to much of anything and he seemed to be the sort of soldier that got left behind by the system when he returned home.

But he was sweet. You could tell that just from the small interaction you’d had. Quiet. A little flustered. Maybe reserved. But he had beautiful eyes; blue, like they could capture even the faintest colors in the sky and the sweep of a current in the Mediterranean. He’d only barely lifted the corner of his lips to a smile that day and it left you wondering how lovely he was when it touched his eyes.

“Bucky!” you called, moving a little quicker now as you approached, but he didn’t seem to hear you. Still focused on his staring match with the building, it seemed. For a moment, it seemed as though he might be turning to leave and your stomach twisted.

You were nearly at his side, a little out of breath when you called his name again and it registered this time. Only, it must have startled him because an arm jutted out in your direction, knocking the coffee from your hands. You were too stunned to do much of anything about it as they coffee flung itself to the pavement, the contents spilling to the ground and over your sneakers. You clutched the box of donuts tight to your chest.

Bucky froze, almost as still as a statue, his eyes focused on the coffee spilled on the sidewalk. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitch and slowly, his eyes drew up to meet yours. He stared at you for a moment, mouth falling agape. His ears were burning red.

Then, he seemed to come back to reality as he blinked a few times, his eyes darting from the shock on your face to the coffee on the sidewalk.

“Y/n! Shit—fuck! I am—so sorry,” he started to ramble, his hand reaching out, though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “I didn’t realize you were-- fuck—”

“It’s alright, Bucky,” you tried to ease him, a laugh in your voice. “Don’t worry about it. Probably didn’t need the caffeine anyway.”

“I should, um,” he looked around desperately, scanning the street for the nearest coffee shop, his hand clenching and releasing at his side in a repetitive squeeze. It was really sort of sweet. “Let me buy you a new one.”

You smiled at him and he softened a bit. “That’s really not necessary.”

He gritted his teeth as you bent down to pick up the empty cup and shook the excess coffee off your shoes. They were old sneakers anyway and you were looking for a halfway decent excuse to get new ones. Then came a shy ex-soldier barreling in from the sky with a strong aversion to your coffee.

“I knew this was a bad idea...”

He was talking to himself, grumbling under his breath, and you realized why he was staring at the building for so long. You took a step closer to him, studying the way his chewed on the inside of his cheek and shoved his right hand into his pocket.

“Is it?” you asked.

Blue eyes flickered to yours, brows furrowed. He didn’t think you’d heard him. “Sorry?”

You just smiled at him, shaking your head. You’d been working at the VA long enough to recognize the man behind the soldier; one who’d been beaten and bruised and left to waste the second he was dropped back on American soil. Constantly beating himself up, constantly wondering if he was doing the wrong thing and struggling to be the version of himself he was before the war.

“So, James Barnes,” you grinned, “you decide if you’re coming in or not? It’s a little chilly out here. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

Bucky stared back at you, unsure. But you could see the tension easing off his shoulders. His right hand was hanging back at his side again as his eyes flickered up to the doors again.

“Come on.” You smiled at him again and you noticed pretty quickly that he softened when you did that. It made your stomach flutter. You took a step forward, hoping he’d follow behind. “There’s shitty coffee inside we can share before book club starts.”

“I don’t even know what you’re reading,” he admitted, that sweet nervousness taking over again.

“You don’t need to,” you shrugged and his brow scrunched up again, confused. You glanced back at the doors. “Well, I’m going inside. I hope I see you there.”

With that, you turned and shouldered your way through the doors, donut box clutched tight to your chest. You waited by the entrance until you heard the soft grumble of a graveled voice outside, and then, footsteps as they approached the door.

You smiled.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes

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remuswriting · 3 years

Text

online friend; m. atsumu

Summary: Create a Twitter thread about Naruto and volleyball, and Miya Atsumu is now your best friend.

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Male! Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, but it’s like incredibly faint

Word Count: 2,150 words

Notes: This was meant to be a short hc, but here we are at lots of words. It’s not the best, but Miya Atsumu is the loml at the moment.

Being online friends with Atsumu is different.

You guys met during your third years on Twitter when you made a thread of what positions Naruto characters would play in volleyball and immediately became friends once he messaged you. He texts his accent and it makes you laugh every time you read it. He says it’s so you can hear his accent, even though you beg for him to stop letting you ‘hear his accent.’

Neither of you know what the other looks like nor do you know each other’s names. He told you to call him ‘Tsumu’ while he calls you ‘Captain’ since you’re the captain of your team. He doesn’t believe you’re a guy until you send a video of you saying “Tsumu, shut the fuck up” (without your face in it) and he’s immediately asking if your high school is going to nationals.

You guys get close fast though and are talking to each other all the time. Osamu tries to take Atsumu’s phone away from him all the time to get him to concentrate, and your friends do the same to you. Atsumu has told Osamu about you, since he sucks at keeping secrets from him, but you haven’t told anyone about him. You don’t think it’s any of their business. He cries about it and you tell him to suck it up.

He’s the first person to learn about your school going to nationals. It’s a bunch of incoherent all caps texts until one clear one that says, “GOING TO NATIONALS” and he starts freaking out with you. Atsumu has no chill and immediately starts planning how you guys are going to meet. He has meeting times and places while you’re just wanting him to calm down. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to be calm when he’s so excited.

After a couple of days, you exchange phone numbers to make it easier for later. Atsumu believes this is perfect because now you guys can call and know each other’s voices better. You’ve never even heard his voice and he keeps wondering if you want to, because he wants to hear your voice again. You tell him you don’t do phone calls and you’re not as active via text as you are Twitter DMs. He gets sad, but you do explain it’ll be better to text at nationals because you’re not going to be getting on social media much.

Osamu doesn’t believe you exist. He thinks Atsumu is texting himself from a burner phone or something, because who would actually want to be friends with his brother. When he learns that you don’t know that Tsumu is actually Miya Atsumu, Osamu knows he has to watch you guys meet. (He was going to join anyways for safety reasons, but now it’s interesting.)

Somehow Atsumu finds out your prefecture before you find his and he’s already online looking for videos of Shirahama, Chiba Prefecture Qualifiers. It’s easy to figure out who you are with that #1 on your jersey. Your entire team is pretty solid, but you’re the best there. You’re really good and it has Atsumu slightly worried, but he’d never say that. You’re also really attractive and Atsumu will push away all these gay thoughts when you stop using the bottom of your jersey to wipe the sweat off your forehead.

He knows nothing about Chiba prefecture, so he starts googling all about it. There’s a beach there, which also means there’s beach volleyball. Atsumu had heard of people training on sand to get better on the court, but he didn’t believe in that shit. You either get good on the court or you don’t at all. If other people were right though, then maybe your team did a lot of beach volleyball?

You call him one night and sound like you’re on top of the world. You just got your acceptance letter to the school of your dreams. It’s overseas. Atsumu can’t hear you anymore after you it’s overseas, in the United States.

It feels just like his brother all over again and he hasn’t even met you in person yet.

So, he hangs up and ignores your texts and calls. He’s not sure if he can meet you now, because you’re going to leave eventually anyways. Osamu finds out and hits him upside the head before telling him to stop being an overdramatic scrub and just talk to you. Osamu lies and says it’s because Atsumu isn’t on top of his game and Osamu plans to win nationals, not lose because Atsumu is heartbroken for no reason. Well, it’s not a big lie because that’s true but he also just cares about his brother.

In Atsumu fashion, he messages you “congrats” and then doesn’t answer your messages. For some strange reason, he feels better, and Osamu takes it.

You don’t though.

You keep texting him and asking him what’s wrong with him. Eventually you start calling and resort to calling him and Atsumu finally answers once you’ve blown up his phone. You’re not normally like this, but you don’t tend to receive weird reactions like he had given you.

He tries to pretend you have the wrong number, and you think about murdering him when you guys meet. You’ll definitely have the wrong number then.

“You don’t have to tell me why you’re upset with me, but you better tell me we’re still meeting at Nationals,” you said, and he makes a squeak on the other end. “You said you’ve been there before, so I expect a text about where and when we’re meeting the day before Nationals, which is in six days.”

“Okay,” Atsumu squeaked, and you laughed slightly.

“See you then Tsumu.”

You’re not really panicked about meeting him because it’s just Tsumu. You guys have been talking for months and he just doesn’t freak you out. Him randomly ghosting you was weird and concerned you more because you were worried about him. You do have worries that maybe you’re not what he expects, but this may be more because you don’t have expectations outside of him being an absolute goof.

Atsumu on the other hand is freaking out. He’s worried you’re going to hate him and think he’s ugly. Osamu just watches, because there is no way to stop the train wreck of his brother’s anxiety. When Atsumu is over practicing one day, clearly trying not to think about everything, Osamu doesn’t spike the next set.

“What’re ya doin’?” Atsumu yelled, and Osamu squinted at him.

“You’re in love with this guy aren’t ya?” Osamu asked, and Atsumu turned bright red.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous ‘Samu! Y/N is just a friend!” Atsumu yelled, and Osamu bit his lip.

“You know his real name, but he doesn’t know yours.” Osamu walks over to his water bottle. “You’re either in love with him or just really fuckin’ creepy to stalk him like that.”

Atsumu chucked the volleyball at Osamu, who easily dodged it. The conversation ended with Osamu laughing and Atsumu panicking about another thing; was he in love with you?

He texts you to meet him during the lull in matches when everyone gets lunch. It’s about a 30-minute break and he doubts Inarizaki will have a match after that time, and he hopes you don’t either. He wants to eat and watch matches with you, so hopefully everything will work out for him.

Thankfully, they do. You’ve gotten through the first round by then and so has he. He even got to watch your team in action, and holy shit were you guys good. You were a strong ass spiker, probably as strong as that guy from Karasuno last year with the bun. Or maybe like Aran. All Atsumu knew was that he wanted to block your spikes, his fingertips buzzing for it.

You show up at the spot he texted you about. It’s outside and he thought it would be nice not to be surrounded by people. There’s someone with you, but he can’t be mad because Osamu and Sun wouldn’t let him go by himself.

“Tsumu?” You asked, and your friend covered his mouth at the sight of Atsumu. “You’re Tsumu?”

Atsumu nervously laughed and nodded. “And yer captain.”

“Miya Atsumu is my online friend?” You asked, and your friend started laughing. “Are you kidding me?”

“Well, no,” Atsumu said, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Now it’s even creepier that you have all the magazine articles he’s been featured in,” your friend said between laughs, and you shoved him.

“Shut up, Akira,” you snapped, and your face turned red.

“Articles?” Atsumu asked, and now Osamu and Suna were laughing.

“Yeah, he’s obsessed with you,” Akira asked, and his laughing was finally starting to die down. “I can’t count the number of times he’s told Koichi to try to set like you do.”

“Akira, shut up,” you said, and you started trying to hide yourself in your jacket.

Atsumu smirked and immediately became cocky. He was no longer panicked. “Is this true, Captain?”

“Maybe it is, Miya,” you said, and you looked over at him. “Or maybe it isn’t.”

Osamu howled laughing and Suna started recording, because everyone on Inarizaki needed to see this.

“No need to deny it. Your friend already ratted ya out,” Atsumu said, and you rolled your eyes. “I know I’m irresistible.”

“I’ll admit, you’re good at volleyball, but whoever said you were irresistible?” You made your face visible now, but your face still felt hot. “I wouldn’t say that with that terrible bleach job you did to your hair.”

Atsumu started to deflate, but he held onto the face you said he was good at volleyball. Maybe because he also thought you were good at volleyball.

“Well, if it’s so terrible, then why save articles with me in them?” Atsumu asked, and he felt like he stumped you. He really showed you.

“Never said I didn’t like it,” you said, and he froze. He could feel his face turning red and he didn’t expect you to be such a flirt. Sure, sometimes you were kind of flirty, but he thought it was a friend thing. Looking back, that mindset probably came from not having many friends.

“Well, yer hair isn’t bad either,” Atsumu retorted, and you chuckled.

“Thank you, I guess. It’s pretty sweaty from that match earlier,” you said, and Atsumu remembered what you looked like when strong arms spiking volleyballs. He suddenly felt hot all over. “I saw you guys play, and you’re good. Hopefully that Karasuno team beats you again. I want to go against Hinata Shoyo.”

“Yeah, he’s insane,” Akira said, and he stood up straight. “I’ve watched some of his matches from Miyagi, and he is something else on the court.”

“He’s crazier in person,” Osamu said, and Atsumu slowly felt like this wasn’t just you and him meeting, but everyone meeting everyone.

“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m L/N Y/N and this is Nakaya Akira. We’re from Shirahama in the Chiba Prefecture.”

Osamu nodded and pointed at Atsumu. “Yeah, the scrub figured it out already.”

You looked at Atsumu with a smirk. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s obsessed.” Your watch beeped and you looked down at it before sighing. “Sorry, coach said we had to be back at the front by 13:25. We’re heading back to our hotel to eat.”

Atsumu felt panic rise up in his chest, because he didn’t want this to be the end. He wanted to hang out just a little bit longer.

“Are ya goin’ to come back?” Atsumu asked, and you looked from Osamu to Atsumu.

“Are you going to miss me?” You asked, and Atsumu wasn’t going to answer that. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back to watch some matches and hopefully you and I can have some alone time.”

Gay panic.

This was what Atsumu had been experiencing and it finally clicked when you licked your lips before biting them. His thoughts exploded with wanting to kiss you and maybe have you even do that to his lips.

“He’d love that,” Osamu said, and you nodded while Akira laughed.

“Alright, text me later, Miya,” you said, and Atsumu nodded while trying to hold back a scream.

Once you and Akira were gone, Osamu placed a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder. Sun put up his phone and went to the other side of Atsumu.

“He’s pretty hot,” Suna said, and Osamu hummed in agreement. “I think I might try to get with him.”

“No!” Atsumu screamed, and Suna suppressed a laugh. “I saw him first!”

Osamu laughed and looked at Atsumu. “Good to know ya accepted yer in love with him.”

“How could anyone not be in love with him?” Atsumu asked, and he looked at Osamu with serious eyes. “Did ya not see how good he is at volleyball?”

Atsumu is still 100% a volleyball idiot.

Tag List: @chaoswrites

#haikyuu!!#Miya Atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x male reader #miya osamu #haikyuu x reader hc #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu male reader

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yanderenightmare · 3 years

Text

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, heavy dubcon, bordering on noncon, profanity, manipulation

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL - PART TWO

TRUST ME

It's safe to say that Bakugo had gotten used to a certain lifestyle.

Being top three in all years in the Hero-course, girls fawning, falling at his feet left and right, drooling, begging him to fuck them.

Or… begging him to take them out on a date.

But let’s be honest… no girls want to date him, they just want to ride his dick once a week. They just want to know what it feels like to be taken by a real man before halting, limping back to their clueless vanilla-boyfriends, all made up of soft smiles and warm hugs and nothing like Bakugo and how he spanks their girlfriend’s ass until blood leaks from popped veins and his name comes falling from their lips like tearful prayer.

Nowadays though, he’d had to kick more girls to the curb than he could count on both his hands without as much as getting his dick wet from the girl he’d picked for himself, the star that was once so bright and shining like a wild sunflower before he forced himself into her life.

She seemed to have wilted, as she wouldn’t even spare him a second glance until he forced it from her.

Or… that was unfair. She was perfect, doing everything he asked, but… it wasn’t really willingly, now was it?

All he needed was ask, but he knew she didn’t try to make him happy because she wanted to, she didn’t try and make him laugh because she wanted to, it didn’t come naturally as it did with others, she did it because she was scared shitless of what he would do if she didn’t.

It made him so unbelievable angry to see her laugh with others. Wrathful, vengeful even, when she buckled over and nearly fell, rolling on the floor in the pit of her humor, crying with how painfully she was wheezing. So furious because he couldn’t even blame her. He couldn’t blame her for preferring other people over him, other smiling laughing idiotic people, pleasant people as opposed to him and his aura of grumpiness.

Some insouciantly greedy, almost evil, part of him whispered to him those times he saw her smile that genuine angel-bright smile, never with him, that perhaps if he simply took her, took her away, tucked her away more so than what he had already, that perhaps she’d have no choice but to share that light with his darkness, because supernova’s like her need things to shine for, they crave lighting people up, they’re just so fucking eager to please, and if he were the only one around to absorb all which she had to give, then she’d have no choice but to share.

It shouldn’t have been legal for him to demand more of her.

She did everything he asked.

She worked out with him, pushing herself to limits and extents she didn’t even know existed, almost until she barfed, almost until she collapsed, then praising his teaching-methods instead of admitting it was too much.

She watches his movies, where she would contort the scary imagery of whatever horror or action movie Bakugo would put on the screen into the finest goriest comedy, cough up her lungs at the guts and brains leaking from sliced abdomens or cracked skulls, burry her face in his shoulder as she cried out laughter, instead of jumping into his arms like the scared little lamb she was supposed to be, begging him to turn it off and giving him an opportunity to slide his hand up her shirt.

She studied with him, again gushing about what an amazing tutor he is instead of being honest by letting him know what an absolutely aggressive jerk he is, saying words she’d regret and have to find a way of apologising for, making it up to him in so many ways Bakugo lusted for, fantasised about when he laid next to her at night.

She joined him with his friends, let him sleep in her bed, she even ate what and when he told her eat, dressed how he wanted her to dress, changed if he didn’t approve, cheered like his own personal perfect cheerleader at his battles, being probably the loudest person in the bleachers, making all the boys jealous of him, doing everything and more, and still, still it just wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what he needed.

And no, what he needed wasn’t her pussy served on a platter.

What he needed was leverage. He needed reassurance, he needed her trapped, locked down, glued to him. He needed to know, to believe, to trust that he had her not just for now, but for as long as he wanted, forever.

And having her in the most primal shameless way, showing her what he could give her, show her that he isn’t just a god on the battlefield but has those same godlike skills when it comes to making her see stars was how he intended to make her need him.

Granted, he’s never actually made love like how she’d probably want to, but he’s fucked plenty of sluts to have confidence in saying that he knows the female body like the back of his hand.

If he could just feel her melt beneath him, just make her unravel, wrap her around his pinky, just once and he would know, she wasn’t leaving him anytime soon, she wasn’t ever going to leave him, not unless she wanted her pretty pictures leaked.

Not that he would ever let anyone see her like that, that was just for him, but he doubted she would think too much of what he was willing to do or not. That’s the beauty of threats, they don’t need to be true for the outcome to be fruitful.

Though, he really wished it didn’t come to that.

No, once she gets a taste of what it feels like to be taken care of the way he would take care of her, when she wakes up from what fever-dream he’s given her with a mouthful of honey and the newfound realisation that with him is where she belongs, where she’s always belonged, where she’ll always belong.

Or...

Perhaps it was about the sex.

He had been good, loyal, patient, understanding, boyfriendly.

She wasn’t the only one making sacrifices.

It’s unfair of him to hold that against her, and he knows that… most of the time… but no one can blame him for forgetting it when he sees her sitting next to him in that short school-skirt, so in-reach, so grabbable, with his bed taunting them from right behind his back, how easy it would be to just pick her up and throw her down on it, watch her bounce while looking up at him in a giggling fit.

He can’t be expected to focus on doing algebra with that in his mind, he can’t be expected to tutor her when she looks at him with that apologetically hopeless clueless expression, laughing that nervous laugh that every time warns him about how completely lost she is to what he’s talking about.

Granted, it was him who told her he would be tutoring her, because god and every teacher along with him knew she needed it, what with how she daydreams or pranks each and every class away like the ditzy klutz she is.

“I… I- I don’t know?” Was her answer to yet another equation he’d poured out from between his grit teeth.

Plan A revolved around her wanting to repay the favor, give him a little present for helping her out. Tit for tat, eye for an eye, sort of thing. And usually she would, give him a little something in return, a chaste kiss to his cheek, a frisky make-out session that always ended just a bit too early, never fully what he wanted.

Plan B was to tire her out, creating an opening for him to suggest that they do something that requires less thinking. She usually gets distracted, sometimes she’ll even initiate it in hopes he’d let her off the hook with studying, she’d pout her lips, look at him with those large pretty puppy-dog eyes, coax him into cuddling, but she’d always fall asleep just a minute later.

Plan C was a spin off plan B. Where in hopes of making her the bad guy, he would be sweet, he has been sweet, offering his help to tutor her, she would grow tired like she always does, only this time he wouldn't allow her to rest, therefor causing her to snap, resulting in her saying something she’d regret, again resulting in her apologising, something he could mold into her owing him a favour, something that would end up with having her splayed out on the sheets of his bed, ready for the taking.

He just needed an opportunity to hold something against her, an excuse, a favor to cash in, he needed her backed up into a corner.

Plan C wasn’t working though, unfortunately.

She never grew fed up with him, she never said anything foul.

He was stupid to think that an opportunity like that would arise. She isn't like him after all. In fact, she’s the farthest thing from him.

Well, time for plan D then. Another spin off plan B.

Don’t hold it against him, but he’d been spouting bullshit for the last three minutes in hopes of making her frustrate over herself, where the former plan had evolved into something a bit more crucial.

But, she’s insanely tolerant, reminding him of Kirishima’s sturdy quirk, though he had to admit finding her unfaltering confidence and dedication way more mind-blowingly impressive.

He had been chipping at that composure of hers for the last two hours without breaching the surface.

But there was still hope.

Everyone has a breaking point after all, and he could sense she was getting fed up. Fed up with his tone, fed up of him treating her like a moron, fed up with him.

It would only take one last blow now and she’d break.

Or so he thought.

He had impressive amounts of patience, but he was also nearing his breaking point and finally after one more of her soft-natured laughs, he was the one that had enough, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

And plan E was looking way more opportune by the minute.

“You think it’s funny that you’re an idiot?”

Her eyes widened and turned instantly glossy at his harsh words, looking like a kicked-puppy, before it contorted into an expression of something akin to anger but not truly as vicious.

Yet, obviously taking offence, huffing as she got up to leave, proving how she too was done with playing their little fantasy, uncaring, or rather forgetting, that she wouldn’t be going anywhere without his permission.

“I think so too, I think it’s fucking hilarious.” He mocked, hand gripping her shirt and pulling her back between him and the desk.

Already she was pushing at him, as he leaned in closer gripping her hips and gliding her onto his desk, wanting to feel her thighs and legs cradle around his torso.

“But, you know what I find even funnier?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but she was given no room to let her protest out as he raised his voice in warning.

“What I bet you laugh your ass off at behind my back?!”

Her annoyance turned ashen, faltering into that meek fearful look he didn’t realise until know that he’d missed.

“Is how much of an idiot I am.”

Her brows scrunched, hands placed on the thick stiff muscles of his arms as she felt him start to rub circles into her midriff where his fingers where digging into her soft flesh through her shirt.

“I’ve been so fucking patient.” It was barely above a whisper, almost sounding broken, like a cry or a plead or an apology, but then his face split into a snarl as he leered at her, teeth flashed at her face making her jump slightly where she sat planted on the desk. “So fucking patient with you that it’s ridiculous.”

His nose touched hers where she slightly bowed her head. His eyes were blood-shot, or perhaps it was just how they always looked. She wouldn’t know as she made it her unrelenting mission to never look directly at him.

But now she couldn’t escape his stare, the stare she’d feared so much, pushed tight up against her, so tight she smelled his breath when she inhaled, so tight she felt the thin hairs on her upper lip dance as he huffed out his own growling breaths.

“And no, I’m not talking about math.”

Her hands had moved to his chest as he hunched further and further over her, pressuring her to lie down on the desk.

“Please, Baku-” She tried, adding slightly more pressure to her hold on him, but honestly... no amount of her strength would be able to fend him off, especially with the mood he was in.

“No!” He cut her off with a growl, finally forcing her down on her back underneath him, as he palmed the doughy flesh of where her hips connected to her ass, greedy and so very hungry, still keeping a firm hold on her with a thumb hooked on her hip, keeping her in place. “No more please, and I told you it’s fucking Katsuki.”

She flinched as he spit the correction in her face, feeling something bulging slot and rub itself up against where her skirt had hiked up and exposed her thin panties.

“No more pleas, no more excuses, no more teasing, no more jokes.”

He spotted a tear dripping down her cheek, escaping with how hard she was squeezing her eyes shut to avoid his gaze.

She whimpered before she spoke. “I- I’ve do- done every- everything you- you asked.” She blubbered, her hands removed from their insignificant standoff with his chest and shot up to cover her face as she began crying, wiping at them as they fell, pathetic and broken and so pretty his balls hurt with how much he wanted to bury himself inside her no doubt tight cunt.

Desperate now, he bumped his erection into her heat. Trying to steal her focus away from the action by gripping her chin between his rough finger-pads, his lips brushing up her jawline, inhaling her perfume, the scent making another pleasurable shiver spring to his cock, again humping into her.

“So, what’s one more thing?”

Her heart would have sunk by his words if it weren’t for the building intensity that spiked it to beat faster, hammering in her chest as she felt what she now had no doubt was him pushing into the scared place found between her thighs.

She could feel her panic bubble up where she was pushed against the cold wooden desk, with her boyfriend’s unwanted heat radiated and seeping through her clothes to tickle her skin.

She didn’t want this. She wasn’t sure if she ever would want this.

Bakugo had told her so many times that this was something she needed, everyone needed, but as her heart kept pumping so profusely in her chest, as though it were some blaring alarm, she wasn’t at all sure if she liked the way the stubble on his shaved chin scratched as it rode up her neck when he planted soft open-mouthed wet kisses there, she wasn’t sure if she at all wanted his large calloused wandering hands to stroke and tamper with her soft skin as he pulled her shirt out of her skirt to touch and feel up her stomach and squeeze the soft flesh of her tits, and the more and more his threatening clothed cock continued in rubbing desperately against her own teased sex she fell short of understanding just what it was she didn’t want, if it was the intimacy or just him.

Her panic built like bile in her throat, wanting to burst, which it did.

“I’m not ready- I don’t- can’t we just…”

He captured her chin between his thumb and index finger, lips coming to shut her up, cut off whatever protesting excuses she was about to splutter out.

She tried getting her words out, trying ever so timidly to shake from the kiss, yet however which way she tried turning her head, Bakugo simply followed to deepen it, turning more bruisingly passionate by the second.

Her hands were kept unsurely in their delicate touching on his chest, again in her fear of souring the mood she only barely pushed at him to get off, whereas his hands grasped and groped up her thighs, feeling her soft flesh up like dough, squeezing and kneading and just touching her, all of her, despite her small hums of discomforted surprise.

Large encompassing hands took a break from their pioneering and easily pried her smaller ones off his chest, interlocking his fingers with hers and pushing them down to her sides where they wouldn’t get in the way.

The kiss then turned rough, hungry as he yet again rocked himself into her, a rugged groan escaping from deep within his throat as her struggles met him with her own type of delicious friction, kissing his sensitive bulge with little caution.

He was so sensitive from having to have held back his primal urges for so long, especially after being teased daily by the soft grabbable little mouse he slept next to throughout every night without being allowed to do more than simply hold her, being teased with her ass slotted against his crotch as they spooned.

If she wasn’t careful with her movement he might just become a pathetic mess and cum in his pants with how pent up he was.

His other hand made to slip under her skirt to feel up the lace of her panties, wanting nothing more but to slip his finger inside her no doubt tight little hole and work her up until she’d be dripping drenching his hand with wetness, wanting to hear those panicked whimpers turn into ones of pleasure instead, but she was making it impossible with all her troublesome wiggling.

His fingers forgot their quest between her thighs in favor of picking her up and moving her to the bed instead.

She tried pushing, but it was so weak that he could pretend to not feel it.

He wouldn’t be stopping unless she flat out screamed at him, and even then, she’d have to be brutally clear or else he’d take it for screams of pleasure.

He made sure the fall was soft, placing her down on her butt first before his hand cusped the back of her head as he pushed her down onto her back with him hovering on top, deep kisses aiding his quest in pressing her and keeping her beneath him.

She jostled under the entrapment of his weight when his digits stroked up over her panties, rubbing and dipping into the warm tender skin found beneath.

Her hands pushed at him then, only a little, though it should have been enough to get her message across, but as she realized it wouldn’t she turned her head to the side, freeing her lips from his attacking ones and allowing her to speak her protest, or… more whine than speak.

“Katsuki…”

He shushed at her from where he was nuzzling in her neck, seeming almost lovesick like a frenzied pup as he began to lightly hump into the mattress, his teeth nibbling at the thin skin of her throat.

“Don’t worry… I’ll make you feel good.” It was a drawled-out mumble, but it told her of how he had no intention of stopping.

“But-” She tried, but was quickly made to shut up as her chin was once again captured and dragged to make her look up at him, his lips again pressing into her, seizing all words.

Soon his antagonizing finger hooked under her underwear, rough-textured fingertips quickly making their way to rub over the sensitive lips found at their disposal.

Her struggles grew then, her chest jutting forward to try and lift him off her, to allow her to speak, but it was as though he was glued to her, his fingers nearly marking their presence into her cheeks as his wet mouth and even wetter tongue continued exploring the insides of her mouth.

She whimpered at the feel of his fingers pushing through her folds, gliding up and down the slit. Jolting once too violently, Katsuki laid all his weight down onto her, trapping her there completely, quenching the harshness of her struggles and subduing them to what felt like she was trying to meet his desperate humping.

“Trust me.”

He should have whispered it, he should have tried making it sound less aggressive as he cuddled with the lips of her pussy, sticking one finger inside her warmth, followed by her squealing in surprise against his lips.

Her fingernails marked their presence into his skin as she held onto his arm, still not allowed to protest, still only barely allowed to breath.

He couldn’t help but growl at the feel of how tight she was, or… at the feel of how unprepared she was.

She whimpered as it was no doubt uncomfortable being skewered onto his thick finger without being at all wet, but he was determined to make that change.

His thumb pushed into her clit, starting to rub slow carful circles into the hooded and hidden pearl, wanting it to pucker out to meet him. And soon, at the hands of his experienced fingers, and perhaps encouraged by her virginal thrill of having something touch her for the first time, his wishes were met.

The finger buried inside her began squishing in wetness, allowing him to add another one at the expense of her gasping against him, her hands relenting slightly in their need to push him off, a soft uncertain hum simmering against his lips, making him smirk, gloat and bloom with cocky bliss.

Working her tightness with his digits, coating them in slick, he began curling them, feeling the waves of her tensing and melting beneath him. Parting them, scissoring them inside of her plushie walls, his thumb rubbing tight patterns into her bead.

Encouraged by her struggles subsiding he began pumping the digits in and out, feeling her wetness coat his hand. The actions finally earning him a moan, a sweet trembling breathy moan, one that got right to his head as his grin widened against her lips.

“You see?” He asked, lips still barely detaching from her, breathing the words into her. “You were just scared…”

Their eyes locked and he was happy to see her orbs large and glossy yet cotton-flavored and blissful as she looked up at him.

“You don’t need to be scared with me, just let me do this for you, trust me…”

He kissed her softly now, no brutality or forcefulness, but lightly and sweetly and tenderly, so much so she almost forgot it was Bakugo.

“I’ll make you feel good.”

But it was Bakugo.

It was Bakugo.

Bakugo who’d forced her into a relationship.

Bakugo: her self-proclaimed boyfriend, her self-proclaimed roommate, her tutor, her guard-dog, her warden.

Bakugo, who was now persuading her into giving him her virginity.

She was about to answer, but as though he precepted her growing trepidation he met it all with a sharp hooking of his fingers, making her arch her back up into him, her knees trembling where they were pushed up over his thigh next to his hips.

“Just relax…”

An open-mouthed uncontrolled moan escaped her then. “Katsuki~”

She felt her hips buck back into his hand, letting him know that he had her completely wrapped around his finger, just as figuratively as it was literal.

“That’s right…” He spoke softly, maintaining the aura of safety, wanting to keep her exactly like that, all soft and sweet and vulnerable for him. “You just focus on me, babe.”

He placed a tender kiss to her jaw, contrasted with how he now rubbed vigorously onto her swollen bud, feeling her tremble, quake at his hands.

He knew he had her right where he wanted her, chasing that high he was giving her, her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his torso, reminding him of his own arousal, but he couldn’t pay himself any mind.

Right now all he needed to worry about was sealing the deal.

An excited jumpy hitched breath left her lips, precious as it was sweet, chest rising above the bed and pressing against his own in such a soft expression of gratitude, just as her legs squeezed tightly around his waist, keeping him close, pussy clenching around his fingers so tight he could only dream of what it would feel like wrapped around his cock, as her eyelids started to flutter, squishing to a close, but not before he saw her eyes cross, reaching towards the light, a light he ignited for her.

She was left a panting mess, her walls fluttering around his digits, happily sucking on them as she spilled.

But she wasn’t left blissed out for long as she hurriedly scurried back to herself, hands covering her face as she hung her head in embarrassment, feeling that dreadful feeling wash over her, that draining shame feeling like death’s embrace.

“I’m sorry.” She squealed, words muffled beneath the cover of her hands.

His brows scrunched as he perceived her, trying to spot her face from beneath what shield she’d made with her hands.

“I- I made a mess…”

It sounded as though she were about to cry, so ashamed her body began to shake, her thighs pressed together, hiding where she cocooned herself in the bed in front of him.

His hand trailed soft fingers up her forearm to wrap around her wrist, gently prying her hand away from her face.

He sighed, heart clenching at the sight of her glossy shameful eyes.

“You’re so fucking adorable…”

There was a slight chuckle attached to the statement, his lips kissing her temple before they brushed against the shell of her ear.

“Why don’t you make a mess on my tongue next?”

The question left her shell-choked, her lip quivering at the promise of his mouth kissing her down there in the same manor he kissed her lips: brutally, passionately, with teeth.

“M-Mn-No…” She spoke bashfully, still anxious.

Too cute for her own good.

His hand, the one soaked with her essence, ascended to his face, his fingers disappearing into his mouth, lips enclosing around them as he sucked the juices clean off, giving a groan at her taste as well as her shocked but curious expression, smirking once he let his finger go with a kiss.

His hands moved front and centre, beginning to tamper with the buttons to her uniform.

“You’re safe with me.” He repeated, knowing it was something she needed to hear, especially as he began opening button after button, revealing her precious pearly-white bralette, where under was found glory in the shape of soft warm pillows. “Trust me.”

He shoved her shirt off her shoulders, bringing it out of her reach, not allowing her the freedom of covering herself if she were to change her mind and snatch it back from his hands.

She hummed in unease as though to ask if he had to go any further, to which he answered by kissing her forehead, a gesture that made a shiver run up her spine, unsure if it was of pleasure or something more eerie.

His finger running, dancing around to her back, tickling the skin where her bra was held together.

He felt her tense up, but ignored it and continued in his quest, pinching the clasp and taking hold of the straps to pull the annoying thing off, leaving her bare and beautiful.

Taking a second to admire her as her nipples perked at once at the hands of her embarrassment, he held back the urge to pinch, forcing himself to be soft, soft and sweet and safe, something he needed to remind himself of.

Hands moving carefully to hold one of the mounds, a careful squeeze followed by a careful rub of the nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Lay back down.” His voice was so warm, so warm it left her perplexed, unable to tell that the words shaped a demand as he placed one large hot hand in the space between her breasts, adding slight pressure to ease her back down into the bed, all the while her curious yet terror-wide watery eyes looked up at him, falling prey to his dominant crimson ones.

His head followed hers, lips pressing one soft kiss to her wet ones.

There is something about being bare in front of someone fully dressed. Something so dominating, something so frightening. But, surely the fact that he looked at her as though she were the world made everything safer, surely it evened the scales, surely… she wasn’t completely powerless.

“Let me prove just how much I love you.”

He could feel how terribly fast her heart was beating as he kissed down her neck, over her collar bone, careful to not bite too harshly, giving into simply nibbling or grazing his teeth, fighting the urge to mark her up so prettily.

Mouth moving to suck at the exposed sensitive skin of her tits, forgetting himself as he made to grind the protruding nib between his teeth, being met with a squeal from the girl beneath him, her hands instinctively pushing at his shoulders.

But again, her racing heartbeat and impulsive struggles were subdued, Bakugo making to squeeze her cheeks between his fingers, squishing her plump bloated reddened lips together, whispering upon them as he leaned in close.

“Don’t worry, babe, you know I won’t hurt you.”

She nodded, but still he felt her shiver, heard the tremor in her breathing, the soft sniffles she couldn’t keep at bay, just as pathetic as they were adorable and mouthwatering for him to hear.

Once he reassured himself she wasn’t about to roll out of bed and stagger towards the bathroom, running like a spooked hare, he placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth before peppering a dozen more down her neck, over the nipples he’d played with, going further down and lower and lower until he was all the way down to kissing the space found just beneath her bellybutton, his ears shifting to listen to how the bed creaked upon her shuffling, yet those anxious movements where seized when his hefty arms wrapped beneath her thighs, pulling her all snug and personal, lining her up perfectly with his face, all for him to see what gorgeous mess he’d made of her, all glistening and blushed with arousal.

He couldn’t wait any longer to give her a taste, feel her melt on his tongue, hear her moan as he buried his face into her.

He flicked a light kitty-lick over her budding clit, felt her quake in his arms, looking up yet still down at her where he couldn’t quite place what emotion terrorised her face the most, whether it was mostly anxiety, discomfort, shame, embarrassment or pleasure.

It didn’t discourage him though as he made the same movement again, only now twirling his warm textured tongue around the pearl, swirling around it, circling it like a shark, before his entire mouth enclosed it, devoured it, sucked on it, his tongue placed flat on top of it as he dragged it over the sensitivity again and again, sucking fervently, feeling her panic at the intrusive pleasure, yet being held steady in his arms with no way of getting away.

He let up, letting go with a wet pop before running his tongue deeply down the slit, plunging into her weeping hole where it wormed its way inside.

She wiggled as his nose bumped into her ravaged clit, all sensitive with tender swelling.

She was all shaky breaths, no sound too loud, no sound too brazen or wanton.

He needed to change that.

He planned to go slow, but had wanted it to be a surprise, and so, instead of lightly grazing his teeth over the silken bud he gave into biting down on it, gnawing it lightly between the rows of his teeth.

She shrieked, hands pushed with force against his head to get him off as she climbed higher up on the bed, away from him, yet the movement was soon stilled, or rather reversed with the strength of Bakugo’s arms coiled around her thighs, dragging her back to meet his hungry mouth.

“Don’t move.”

Carmine eyes stared up at her from down in between herself, and she felt her knees go weak as they shook at the terrifying growl that accompanied his threat.

“Just… trust me.”

She didn’t.

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared his marred and mauled hands, those scars running up over the great juicy muscles of his arms, those deadly arms themselves, capable of both withstanding and giving destruction, proof that he can and has survived far greater than what she could ever hope, proof that she was no match, no equal.

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared how his thumb now rubbed over her clit, creating such godsend friction that had her unraveling, melting into his mouth, and that mouth itself, that tongue, those teeth, how they devoured her for everything she was worth.

She didn’t trust him, but she found... falling suited her, and chasing the fires had unknowingly become a feeling she rather cherished than feared, a little less like dying, and more like... coming home.

By the time she came to, reeled back into reality, yet still remaining far away, succumbed by bliss, her eyes were opium-blown as she blinked dumbly, not realizing how Bakugo had placed himself on her side, eyes full of awe as he watched her, leg tangled with legs, heart to heart, hand held lazily on her hip, drawing small patterns up and down her side, watching her flushed face drowse into the pillow until those pretty chaste eyes met his again.

His boxers were sticky.

She’d been too busy, too distracted with the feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth abusing what found between her legs to notice how he’d been humping the mattress while eating her out as though he were starved and crazed and feral with lust. And even though she felt him groan and growl, the reverberations that tremored at the roughness of his gruff timber was enough to make her eyes cross and forget, even forgive them from ever happening.

“How about making a mess on my cock next time?”

His hand stroked her cheek after pulling the covers up to drape her naked body that now had begun to shiver in the crash of coming down. The thoughtful action a stark contrast to his cocky suggestive tone, eyes glinting wickedly at the little lamb he’d lured into and onto his wolf fangs, still tasting her essence on his tongue, watching as those skittish brows erupted into that beautiful panic that somehow resembled hope as she looked at him wide-eyed, smitten with plead and all things soft.

“I’m joking…”

He gave a smile, soft but in a different way, admiring what was his.

“Or, not really… but whenever you want, whenever you’re ready.”

The thumb stroked over her cheek once again, before his lips pressed a long firm kiss to her forehead, hinting for her to nuzzle into his neck, where his smell had become like ritual, something she wasn’t meant to go on without for too long.

She thought she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready for any of this. What makes the next step any different? Still, with the defeatist thought, she did like the defeatist she was, timid hands coming to hold onto Bakugo’s fire-hot skin, slotting herself tight against his body.

She didn’t trust him, but she trusted his love, she trusted his lust, she trusted he would never let her go, and that perhaps those arms of his weren’t too bad. Perhaps if she thought of how safe she was she could more or less forget or rather forgive that they were there to keep her trapped, perhaps if she spent enough time believing she was kept safe by him, then she’d forget all the reason as to why being trapped with him was the farthest thing from safe.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

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angelicyoongie · 3 years

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everything i brew, i brew it for you

⤷ 1.2k follower event request: Familiar!Seokjin x Witch!Reader + “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.” + Fluff/Angst ⤷ @softescapism said: seokjin x reader or OT7 x reader + prompt C8 + witch/familiar, fluff, sfw (hi! could you write a drabble/scenario/short fic for the follower event based on this, please? 💓) ⤷ word count: 2.1k ⤷ a/n: this is a little angsty in the beginning, but the ending is all fluff! i hope you like it!!

“There you are!” You grumble, snatching up a vial from the back of your cabinet. The little thing is covered with dust, the label yellowed with age and barely clinging on to the glass. But even then, there’s no mistaking the content. The shimmering pink powder inside makes you stomach flip uneasily, but you know it has to be done. You uncap the bottle before you can talk yourself out of it, carefully sprinkling the powder counter-clockwise into the boiling concoction in your pot. You can’t help but frown as it slowly turns from clear to bright pink, the stark colour mocking you as you throw in a pair of four leaf clovers with a little more force than necessary. The kitchen is quiet aside from the bubbling brew and the rhythmic tapping of your impatient fingers against the counter, your eyes resting nervously on the dark garden outside your window. You promised Seokjin years ago that you would never make this particular potion again, but you’ve run out of options.

You love being a potions witch, but truth be told, it’s probably the worst financial decision you could have made. All witches have to choose their niche the day they turn eighteen, and you, driven by the long list of potions witches in your ancestry, wanted to follow in their footsteps. What you didn’t account for however, is just how drastically the times have changed. Larger covens have started selling their potions online, making them in big batches to cut down on the cost and shipping them all across the country. There’s no longer a need for a town to have their own potions witch, not when you can get them delivered to your doorstep for a cheaper price. The mass produced potions are definitely not as potent as a singularly brewed ones, but it seems people care more about price than efficiency these days. Well, at least most people don’t care. And considering business has been dwindling so alarmingly fast over the last four months that you’re barely scraping by, there’s not a chance that you can lower your prices anymore than you already have.

You shake your head, trying your best to ignore the tendrils of guilt wrapping around your chest. As long as your familiar doesn’t find out about this order, there will be nothing for him to worry about. That's why you’re hunkered over the stove in the first place; desperately hoping that it will be done in time before he comes home. Tonight is Seokjin’s monthly familiar night with Hoseok and Namjoon, and the only window of alone time you have to make something like this. You murmur a quick incantation under your breath as you give the potion one last stir, watching as the pink brew slowly darkens to red. The sickly sweet smell that whiffs up from the cauldron almost makes you gag, but at least it tells you that the potion is almost complete.

You take a step back, throwing another glance towards the window as you count down the seconds in your head. Five minutes. That’s all you need. It’ll be finished, and you can finally hand over the love potion to your customer tomorrow. Despite your reservations and Seokjin’s hatred for that particular brew, it’s actually not that bad. It can’t force someone to fall in love, but it does make them more .. loose-lipped around their crush if they happen to have one. If anything, it’s honestly more of a rebranded truth serum. It does make you want to confess your feelings, and that’s also where the dubious morality of the potion comes in. Even if the person is already in love with someone, it still forces the recipient to act on emotions that they might not be ready to, or even want to share with their crush. You’ve turned down requests for this potion numerous times in the past, but this time, you truly can’t afford to. Seokjin might be older, but he’s still your familiar. Your responsibility. It’s not his fault that he decided to create a bond with you – a witch who can hardly sell enough potions to keep food on the table. You have honestly no idea how you managed to end up with a familiar like him, one that’s so utterly selfless and helpful. Seokjin’s guidance and assistance feels a little wasted on you, and you can’t help but think that your familiar should’ve ended up with a different witch. One that would actually be able to repay him properly for everything he does. You let out a deep sigh. You’ll just have to do better. Maybe you can try to set up one of those witchgram accounts Taehyung is doing so well on, after all, the ritual witch’s sales has been increasing.

The brew suddenly releases a puff of red smoke, signaling its completion. You hastily grab an empty bottle, scooping up as much as possible as you fill the vial to the brim. ”Shit, not yet,” You can suddenly feel the familiar itch behind your right ear, a telltale sign that Seokjin will be home soon. You scramble to turn off the oven as you hear your familiar open the back door, just about managing to shove in a cork at the top of the bottle and hide it behind your back as Seokjin steps into the kitchen.

”Hey! How was your night out?” You lean awkwardly against the counter, bottle digging into your back as you press it flush against your body.

”It was good,” Your heart flutters as Seokjin comes closer, the handsome features never failing to make your heart skip a treacherous beat. ”How was your night?” Your familiar raises an eyebrow as he takes in your awkward posture, the lingering scent of magic in the air betraying what you’ve been up to while he was gone.

”Boring! You know, just very normal and .. boring,” You wince. You breath hitches as Seokjin stalks closer, the frown tugging on his lips causing another wave of guilt to crash through you. You brain shuts down as he cages you in against the counter, and you swear you only blink before you find yourself staring at a red vial in front of your face, your hand grasping around air.

”I see,” Seokjin huffs, ”It’s so very boring and normal to brew a potion we agreed we wouldn’t sell.” As Seokjin stares down at the bottle with disdain before he places it on the counter, you can’t help but shrink against the wood, wracking your brain to figure out a good excuse. You can’t explain why you did it without exposing Seokjin to yourfinancial issues, and you have no plans of doing it – but, then you catch your familiar’s gaze, his kind eyes filled with saddened disappointment as he says, ”Y/n, why would you do this behind my back?”

The reason bubbles up your throat before you can stop it, the words bitter on your tongue as you blurt out a panicked, ”I had to! Business isn’t going well and we need the money, I couldn’t turn the customer away.” You register the flash of shock in Seokjin’s eyes, the purple tint around his brown irises brightening before he gets it under control. Your familiar runs a hand through his hair, leaving the dark locks messy and disheveled as he let out a deep sigh.

”For how long has this been going on?” You slump against the counter, adverting your eyes down to the floor as you mumble, ”Four months. I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave. I thought I could fix it before it became too much of a problem .. I just didn’t want to make you regret choosing me.”

Seokjin’s eyes soften, an exasperated huff of air leaving his lips as he places his fingers under your chin, tilting your head back up. ”Y/n, I would never regret choosing you as my witch,” Your familiar keeps his gaze locked with yours, his eyes urging you to understand the sincerity behind his words. "I just wish you had told me, we could have worked this out together much earlier.”

”I didn’t want you to worry,” You frown. "You already do so much by making deliveries and gathering ingredients, and I didn’t want to burden you more." You feel your breath hitch as Seokjin’s hand moves from your chin to cup your cheek, his touch gentle as he runs his thumb across your skin.

“That’s what I’m supposed to do as your familiar, Y/n. I’m here to help you and guide you, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me when something’s wrong.” You know that, you really do, but it’s still hard to accept sometimes – the fact that you can’t solve everything on your own.

“I’m sorry,” You pout.

”I know,” Seokjin nods, a faint smile on his lips as he moves his hands to your back, pulling you into a hug. ”Just talk to me next time, yeah?”

”I will, I promise,” Your voice is muffled by the thick material of his sweater, but you know your familiar hears you as his arms tighten around your waist in response.

”Good,” Seokjin’s voice is fond as his fingers draw small patterns against your back. You feel yourself relaxing into Seokjin’s hold, your body melting against his as he rests his head on top of yours. ”How are we going to fix it though? I’ve tried almost everything I can think of. There’s nothing that beats low prices and convenience,” You sigh.

”Of course there is,” You pull back at the affronted tone in Seokjin’s voice, your familiar looking down at you like you personally offended him. Seokjin releases you from his hold, his hands flying up to cup his face as he says, ”I can beat that. This–” He points wildly at his face, ”–is sure to bring business in again. No one can resist the opportunity to glance upon this handsome face.” You snort at the expectant expression on his face, rolling your eyes so hard it feels like they’re close to popping out. As much as you like teasing Seokjin for his confidence, he’s not wrong. There’s no one in this town that can come close to Seokjin’s handsomeness, and well, everyone knows it. That’s the biggest reason you have Seokjin running errands and making deliveries, because it means he won’t have to deal with being ogled by all the customers that stop by. For all the banter and smiles he would flash at your customers, you could tell it made your familiar uncomfortable. You could see the way he gently tried to pull away when touches lingered a little too long on his arms, his ears stained a permanent red the days he worked out in the shop.

”Making money isn’t worth it if means you’ll have to do something that makes you uncomfortable,” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter in your chest as you grasp Seokjin’s hands, pulling them away from his face.

”I’ll be fine,” Seokjin says. It’s your familiar’s turn to roll his eyes as he sees the doubtful look on your face. ”I mean it. Please trust me just this once? I’ll let you know the moment it gets too much.”

You hesitate, using the extra seconds to search his face for any uncertainty. ”Fine,” You grumble. You owe it to your familiar to at least extend the trust he has given you back to him.

”Don’t look so sad Y/n, you know you’re the only witch that gets unlimited access to my handsome face,” Seokjin grins.

”Shut up,” You groan, pushing lightly at his chest. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck as Seokjin looks down at you, and you find yourself thankful that familiars don’t have enhanced hearing, otherwise your heart would’ve surely given you away years ago. Something flickers in Seokjin’s eyes, and your familiar’s grin turns heart wrenchingly soft as he ducks his head down.

”I do mean it Y/n, you really are the only witch for me.” You freeze as Seokjin leans in, your blood rushing in your ears as you feel your familiar’s plush lips press against the corner of your mouth. As your brain finally catches up to what just happened, Seokjin has already pulled back. The spot he kissed is burning against your skin, and you barely manage to make sense of Seokjin’s warm gaze lingering on your lips before his eyes flicker behind your back, eyebrow quirking as he says, ”Now, what should we do about that potion?”

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curlynerd · 3 years

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Happy Birthday, Cas! Word Count: 3K Rating: T Summary: Appalled that Cas has never had a birthday party before, Jack drags Dean into his schemes to plan a surprise party for him. Dean finally works up the courage to tell Cas how he feels. Notes: love confessions, first kiss, lots of fluff, and lots of Cas' family showing up much they care