#terrible to you sometimes; while you’ve been on your feet all day and your body is aching and you’ve been doing heavy lifting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedgito · 2 years

Note

Hii omg i just discovered you account and I’m obsessed with you writing 🖤

I have a request if that’s okay

Something like reader has this big crush (kinda obsession lol) with Eddie she’s always looking at him, going to the Hideout every tuesday to watch him perform and buys him weed but she doesn’t actually smokes and eddie notices that and thinks is cute so, so when she meets him in the woods to buy weed eddies like “i know you aint smoking that, why dont you tell me what you really want from me? Why dont you just ask me yo fuck you” or something like that 😩

author’s note: full disclaimer, i'm so sleep deprived on nyquil from how sick i've been, so this will either be really good smut, or complete disjointed and all over the place, either way, i hope it's not too horrible lol

cw: 18+ (minors dni), pining!reader (but also eddie too), god complex!eddie (if you squint) fingering/sex in the back of his van, lots of teasing, protected sex!! (i know, such a shocker coming from me), i'm probably missing something so just lmk!

word count: 5k

You didn’t think it was the best idea, but it made the most sense. Buy the weed, talk to Eddie, offer it up to some stoner willing to pay the same price—it had been seamless, almost too easy, and Eddie never seemed to question it either, despite the fact that you were as clean-cut and proper as it got, you’ve never been around anyone while they were smoking weed, let alone do it yourself. The prospect was terrifying, fear that you might lose control over your body and thoughts, end up being one of the people that experienced terrible highs—so you steered clear of actually trying it for yourself. Besides, it was the only excuse it gave you to talk to Eddie.

It wasn’t that he fully ignored you—you still had classes together, passed each other in the hall on occasion, but you both ran in completely different groups, which didn't leave much room to get to know each other or even have a normal conversation.

You wouldn’t call it obsession, either—because Eddie seemed as intrigued to talk to you as you were to him—you were an enigma he couldn’t figure out, so many mysteries wrapped up into one, he was dying to figure you out. And sometimes your friends like to sneak over to The Hideout, it’s not the first, second, or even third choice of hangout spots on your list—but Eddie performs weekly, every Tuesday night, it was a highlight of what was usually a very dreary, miserable day. You tried hard not to be noticed, always shoving yourself in the furthest corner of the bar, the lights dimmer near the back, which helped obscure your face—though Eddie, he spotted you the moment you walked in, every time, but you didn’t need to know that.

It goes on for weeks, nearly three months into the beginning of your senior year—and Eddie’s third go at it, until he feels the itch, the nerve, just to say something. He doesn’t really know what to expect of it, but he’s curious. Eddie doesn’t understand why you’re always so skittish or nervous around him, keeping a few feet away, but staring at him like there was nothing more important on your mind—you had the prettiest smile, which Eddie had been on the receiving end of more than a few times. He just wanted to know more about you—and why you thought buying weed from him was your only option; frankly, you were taking away from his business in some form, buying a hefty amount with no real use, he could’ve been dragging in new customers with that merchandise, but you disposed of it like nothing. Eddie was challenged in some form, unable to focus and pass his classes like the rest of his classmates, but he wasn’t dumb—you didn’t reek of weed, not like most of the people he sold to, you always agreed with what he offered, never arguing on price or strains—you had no idea what you were doing, it was so blatantly obvious. Eddie tried to play it off as long as he could, but it hit him one day—nestled on the edge of the picnic table, feet dangling just above the freshly fallen leaves, the dried foliage cracking beneath your feet.

“I’m gonna have to start giving you discounts,” Eddie comments jokingly, a slight hint of teasing in his voice as passes you the small sandwich sized bag of weed, dangling it in front of you, “you’re drilling through my product with these weekly meetups.”

“Sorry,” You reply lamely, grabbing the baggie and shoving it into your pocket quickly, shoving your other hand into the pocket to match, yanking your jacket over your middle as you talked to him, insecure of his openly he looked at you—it was like he could see right through you, “I guess I can buy less, if it’s really a problem.”

“No, no,” Eddie stammers, hands shaking out in front of him, he turns around to fiddle with the items in his chest—a mess of different items: papers for rolling, more weed, a lighter, and a fat wad of cash. You were completely out of your element with him, all the time, “—you know, since you’re such a loyal customer, I was thinking—“

“What?” You reply eagerly, forgetting self control for a moment, face blushing a deep red, cheeks burning like you’d just stood over a fire.

Eddie laughs softly, reaching in to pull a joint between his fingers—new and untouched. He’s got a look on his face, like he’s about to engage in a dangerous game, ready to pull you down with him. It’s terrifying, but you’re nearly on your tiptoes now, shifting awkwardly in the silence—maybe you should run.

Instead, you stay, “I was gonna offer you a freebie.” Eddie admits, placing the joint between his soft, pink lips, flicking at the lighter with difficulty—he hits the bottom a few times, still nothing. The calluses on his fingers were a pain in the ass and he wants to put you on the spot, seeing if you crack under the pressure. It’s the perfect opportunity. “Do you mind?” He asks, voice muffled around the joint in his mouth.

You nod hesitantly, pulling the lighter from his grip gently—it wasn’t the first time you’ve ever held a lighter, you weren’t that clueless, but to try and think of a way out of this situation, it seemed impossible. You flick the lighter a few times, the flame finally coming to life, Eddie leans forward slowly, letting the end burn until it smokes, inhaling quickly. You make a subtle move back, pressing the lighter into his hand. You squint, the haze of smoke hitting your face. It makes your eyes water and your nose burn, you hate it. The appeal was never apparent to you—and you didn’t judge Eddie, but it always seemed so pointless to you, throwing away money for a temporary high.

“Here,” Eddie says roughly, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment, breathing out as you took the joint from his fingers, “—it’s good shit, I promise.”

You pluck it delicately, held between your thumb and pointer finger—it’s so close, maybe you could just fake it, but now Eddie’s staring at you, waiting. You’re scrambling for a reason to weasel your way out of this.

“I, uh—I can’t, Eddie.” You tell him softly, passing the joint his way, “My parents will know, I can’t just go home smelling like that.”

He stifles the laugh at your choice of words, the irony so relevant.

“I can smell the weed I gave you from your pocket,” Eddie points out, “how do you explain that?”

“I leave it in my bag—and then I move it, I don’t keep it in the house.” You explain weakly. Your heart is hammering in your chest, the sound of blood rushing and pounding in your ears.

“How often do you smoke then?” Eddie asks curiously, trying to seem less abrasive with his questions. He wants to catch you in your lie, but he doesn’t want to scare you away.

He’s always been intrigued with, infatuated—he didn’t want you running in the other direction.

You didn’t know what sounded believable, so you settled on, “Uh—every other day, sometimes twice on the weekends.”

That bag was enough weed to last anyone a month, as long as they didn’t overindulge. Eddie pushed in further, pointing out the slight inconsistency.

“Oh—because I usually only give that much to the real, real heavy smokers—they smoke at least twice a day, every day, and it still takes them a couple weeks to move through that much product.”

And if you heart couldn’t physically drop to your stomach, it still definitely felt like it.

“Uh, it’s—uh,” You try desperately to recover, “I share with friends too, so it goes pretty quick.”

“Aren’t you generous?” Eddie teases, having smoked through nearly half the joint by now, “Your nerdy little friends? The one’s in that book club?”

It was a soft jab, a pot calling the kettle black.

“It’s not nerdy,” You defend passionately, “you literally play D&D. That’s not fair.”

The squeak in your voice has Eddie smiling behind the joint, appreciating just how fiery you could be.

“Why do you even care?” You ask, frustrated with him, it felt like he was picking on you for no reason.

Eddie sighs softly, “I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” He stresses out, hoping you’ll relax, he sees your shoulders settle and takes that as a sign, “I’m just trying to figure you out—we talk a lot in passing, but I barely know you.”

It’s all your fault, your shyness, your innate fear of being caught in your lies—they were harmless, but it still felt wrong.

“It’s okay.” You tell him quietly, hands fisted in your pockets in tight balls of frustration.

Eddie laughs to himself, nodding for you to take a seat on the bench, you're hesitant but listen anyways, taking whatever bait he is offering. If you weren’t going to fess up, Eddie was going to drop his knowledge of it to you and wait for your reaction—it could go horribly, but it was worth the risk. It wasn't like he couldn’t notice the way stared at his lips every time he took a drag from the joint, or how he licked his chapped lips frequently, chewed at his bottom one out of habit; you were mesmerized.

“I wanna show you something,” He explains, squeezing in beside you, the rough material of his jeans rubbing against the outside of your leg, the prickle of the wood digging into your thighs where your dress didn’t cover, he grabs his supplies and sets the rolling paper out, a small bagging already ground up weed that was ready to go, and makes a small motion with his hand, “but I wanna see how well you do it first.”

“Eddie—“ You panic, glancing between him and the items in front of you. You didn’t have the slightest clue how to roll a joint, you wouldn’t even know where to start, Eddie looks at you pointedly, eyebrows raised slightly in question, “—I, uh—“

Eddie moves silently, grabbing the supplies for himself, working quickly and expertly, like he’d done it a million times. It’s surprisingly fascinating, eyes locked on his tongue as it pokes out to seal the paper together, his eyes flicking to your momentarily.

He set it down gently, hand curled up on the table as he looked at you, other hand resting against his thigh, he fiddled with his rings with the pad of his thumb, letting the silence linger for a moment.

Then finally, “You've never smoked before,” Eddie deduces, smirk crawling up his face, “have you?”

You shake your head slightly in defeat, his fingers curl against the denim, he is desperately holding back, your wide eyes staring up at him.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to buy weed to talk to me.”

And if you weren’t dying of embarrassment before, you were now.

“That’s—that’s not,” You fumble with your words, trying to find some kind of remark or comeback, or just explain yourself—nothing ever comes.

“What’s the real reason?” Eddie’s turned toward you now, leg swung over the bench so he’s straddling it, facing you’re curled in body, still struggling to keep your distance, jacket hugged right around your midsection.

“My friend’s are scared of you,” You admit, eyes turned down toward the table, “—I had to find a way to talk to you without seeming obvious.”

Oh, it was very obvious. Eddie doesn’t want to strike you while you’re down though, so he keeps that to himself.

“So, you like me?” He teases, nudging your arm with the soft touch of his knuckle, smiling sweetly at you. If your heart wasn’t already pounding out of your chest, it was definitely going to burst if he kept looking at you like that.

You shrug indifferently—you weren’t sure of what your feelings were; curiosity, yes—the idea of trying not to obtain something seemed impossible, it was intriguing, to say the least, and it wasn’t like you were immune to all the rumors about Eddie. People constantly talked about him around school—either hateful or downright rude, but there were a few that talked about him like he was god personified—you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself religious, but it wasn’t going to stop you from finding out how true those rumors were.

“Like is a strong word,” You laugh slightly, crossing your left leg over your right, shoes shifting together under the table. You felt a few raindrops hit your shoulder, pulling you both from the intense conversation, “—I should probably go.”

“Wait—“ Eddie stops you, grasping the wrist of the hand that was still shoved firmly in your pocket, “—don’t go.”

And against every fiber of your being, you nod, letting him lead you down a path you weren’t sure you’d be able to feel remorse over.

“Why do you park so far away from the school?” You ask randomly, letting him drag you along the way, feet desperate to keep up with his wide strides.

“Principal Higgins would skin my ass if he found out I was smoking on campus in the mornings,” Eddie explains, glancing back at your briefly as he reaches to open the rear of his van, giving you a full view of the back—it was surprisingly unmessy, aside from a few empty cans of beer and some suspiciously wadding up pieces of tissues and magazine pages, it wasn’t unwelcome—though, it reeked of weed and cigarettes, “—well, here’s my home away from home—trailer, whatever.”

Your parents would surely kill you if you went home smelling like either of those.

Eddie leans inside, allowing you to crawl underneath the bridge his arm made, pointedly avoiding the opportunity for him to look up your dress, turning on your backside to scoot in beneath him—he looks mostly unphased, maybe you were reading into this too much. It could just be an innocent gesture to get to know you, altering motives aside—not that you would mind; you were hoping for it, selfishly enough.

You strip off your jacket once you’re seated, feet crossed out in front of you as you lay your jacket over your lap. Eddie closes the doors with a rough tug, nearly knocking himself on his ass, before finally taking a seat across from you, let’s outstretched around your own, one foot planted against the floorboard to allow him to rest a hand on his knee.

“So—what did you want to—“ You start, quickly interrupted by Eddie motioning you over, you hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not it was worth it—your body moves on its own accord though, pushing up with your fingertips until you’re crawling toward him, breast peeking through the fabric that hung down. Eddie didn’t avert his gaze, though you’re almost positive his eyes are solely locked in yours, heated and intense as he stared you down, face still holding every bit of its softness.

You shift to sit beside him, but his hand comes up to stop you, “Come here,” His voice is soft, pleasing—like he knows what you want, it’s exactly what he needs, he’s more than willing to give you whatever you were hoping for, “right here.” He instructs, watching as you hesitantly swung your leg over his thigh, his left shifting down to accommodate room for you, the back of your thighs settling against the top of his, dress flowing out over his jeans, covering all the rips and holes that showed off his pale skin.

Eddie’s hands slip over the fabric of your dress gently, testing his boundaries, still holding his gaze on your face, “Why don’t you tell me what you really want?” He asks with a hint of knowing to his voice—he just wanted to hear you say it. “No more lies—or buying weed off of me for no reason.”

You put petulantly, shoulders falling slack as you watched his hands travel further up your dress, settling on your waist, the heat of his hands seeping through the thin cotton material, he squeezed gently, you gasped, “I’ve heard…things.” It’s a lame response, but it’s all you can manage.

“Things?” Eddie mocks, fingers coming around to fiddle with the tie on your dress, only lingering and never pulling, he wouldn’t take that step unless you allowed him.

“Girls talk about—you—and how good you are at,” His ringed fingers slip under the string, pulling against the strings, “stuff—like, with sex and all that.”

Eddie chuckles darkly, pulling a hand away to tilt your head up to look at him, rubbing tenderly at the skin of your jaw, “Sweetheart, if you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask.”

If only it were that easy—you’d never be bold enough to say it, not without a heavy amount of coercion, and a lot of teasing, it seemed pathetic to say it so simply—part of you enjoyed the game he was playing at.

“I’m not like that,” You confess, “—too scared.”

Eddie nods slightly, “Too shy,” He notes, thumb dragging along your pursed lips, pulling them apart gently, “that’s okay.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” You laugh nervously, “I still—still think you’re really cute,” You admit, “and you’re so nice to me—“

“An adorable girl who buys all my weed and will do anything to talk to me?” Eddie asks redundantly, “I’d be stupid not to be.”

Eddie takes a moment, breaking the heated facade, “Say—what have you been doing with all the weed?”

You wonder if you should lie, deciding if it’s worth confessing over—but it seemed like everything was already being laid bare, “Uh, this guy—his name is Rick. I sold it to him really cheap, I just wanted to get rid of it.”

“Rick?” Eddie questions like he wants you to elaborate.

“Always smells like weed, looks kinda homeless—he hangs out behind the Rec center near my house.” You tell him honestly, and Eddie can feel the proverbial light bulb switching on in his head.

“You’re selling weed back to Reefer Rick?” He asks with a slight hint of incredulousness in his voice—it bordered on betrayal.

“I—I don’t know who he is!” You say defensively, “He didn’t seem sketchy or anything—did I do something wrong?”

“No—it’s just—“ Eddie laughs at the ridiculousness of it all, “—I’m not selling you anymore weed, sweetheart.”

“That’s fair,” You say on a small sigh, “stuff is gross anyways.”

“And you’re sitting on the lap of Hawkins second biggest pothead,” Eddie challenges, “so what does that say about you?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try you,” You reply boldly, voice still too soft and innocent, “—it’s not the same, you know.”

Eddie pulls his bottom lip between his teeth slowly, like he’s struggling to hold off whatever is eating at him, eyes half lidded and staring straight through you.

“Tell me what you want.” Eddie demands slowly, other hand joining your face, adjusting your head until it’s locked between his grip, assuring you tell him directly rather than to your lap.

“I want you to touch me.” You admit shyly, his face pulling up in a smile

“I am touching you.” He points out; the smartass he’s known to be. “Show me.”

Shaky hands pull at his fingers, curling around his open palm until his hand is settled under your dress, pressed against the sticky, wet material of your underwear—there is no reason to feel shame now, not with the full grin that spreads across his face.

“I knew it.” He snarls, fingers rubbing soft circles into the material, the cold press of the fabric making you squirm, “How long?”

“How long?” You repeat, confused at his questioning.

“Since you’ve been touched.” He clarifies.

“A few months,” You tell him, “I had this thing back in the summer—whatever, it doesn’t really matter—“

Eddie laughs at you rambling, an attempt to settle your rattled nerves. “It’s fine—I was just gonna say you’re really wet��I’ve never, never touched a girl for the first time and had it feel like that,” He tells you honestly, “it takes time—god, can’t believe I could’ve had you all this time.”

“All this time?”

“You really think it was all one-sided?” Eddie asks, “Sweetheart—I’ve known for weeks that you weren’t smoking that weed.”

“I guess I wasn’t very smart about it.”

Eddie shakes his head in amusement, “Doesn’t matter—we’re here now. Can I touch you?”

“You are.”

“Not how I want to.”

Your eyes widen at his admission, nodding shakily in response. His hand slipped under the fabric of your panties, one large finger running down your folds, ghosting over your already sensitive clit, dipping his finger inside of you instantly, a sharp gasp ripping from your chest as you gripped his shoulders, leaning forward slightly at the sudden intrusion.

Eddie looks up at you, your mouth hanging open slightly as he works his finger inside of you slowly, “Can I?” He asks, mouth parted slightly as he looks down toward your breasts, soft skin peeking out the top of your dress.

You nod fervently, exasperated by his constant polite questioning. “Eddie—stop asking, just do it.”

“Just wanna be sure.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want it—all of it.” You tell him honestly, “Plus, it’s ruining the whole—thing everyone says about you.”

“Thing?” He laughs softly, mouthing over your breasts.

“They—they say you’re like—I don’t know,” You feign the importance of it, it doesn’t really matter, “that you’re a god—with, you know.”

“A god?” Eddie teases, testing the word on his tongue, taking a small nip at your chest, your breath catching, “You think I’m a god?”

“Not me,” You shake your head, “it’s just what I’ve heard.”

“But, I’m sure you thought about it—so be honest with me.”

You sigh, shoving his face against your breasts to muffle his endless rant, “Jury’s still out—we’ll see.”

Eddie hums against your skin, dragging his tongue through the valley of your breasts, somehow having worked another finger inside you without you noticing, so caught in staring at his mouth that it’s an afterthought, but then he’s curling his fingers and you can’t do anything but moan, head falling back in anguish, your stomach tightening at the sensation.

“Condoms?” Eddie asks hopefully, he could feel his cock straining painfully against the line of his zipper, he was sure you felt it too, he wanted nothing more than to relieve that ache.

“Oh, fuck—no, I don’t have any.” You say with deep regret, wishing you had thought ahead, had some type of courage that you could turn things into more, but no—and now here you were.

“Wait—“ Eddie yelps, pulling back from your chest, “—passenger side, under the dash,” He points in that direction, removing his hand gently to allow you to scramble toward the front of the van, yanking open the compartment to find two dust covered foil packets.

“God—these things have to be a hundred years old,” You complain, grabbing at the items and returning to Eddie, tossing them into his lap, “are we sure that’s safe?”

Eddie takes a hesitant look, nodding gleefully as he reads the black print, “Thank god—they’re still good for a few months.” You look at him with narrowed eyes, wondering why he had such a decrepitated pair stashed away.

“We got them during one of those safe sex classes,” He says defensively, “better safe than tied down with a kid, right?”

He had a point—plus, you were more than eager to move things along.

You reach for the tie of your dress, struggling to find the string at this ankle, Eddie noticed, “Hey, don’t worry about—“ He says soothingly, “just take your underwear off—they’re already soaked to nothing anyways.”

“God—shut up,” You reply lightheartedly, stripping yourself of the garment before returning to his lap, watching as he pulled himself out of his pants in hurry, red leaking tip screaming for relief, holding the shaft firmly in his hand while he ripped at the foil with his teeth, grabbing the rubber and throwing the trash to the side.

“Wait—“ You interrupt, pointing at the condom in between his teeth, “can I?”

Normally he’d find it weird, but it was the ultimate turn on when it came from you—curious hands and curious minds, he couldn’t deny you that.

“I’ve just—never,” Most guys refused to wear condoms, so it was kind of fascinating, “—forget it.”

“Oh—of course,” He obliged, handing the protection over to you, watching as you slowly rolled the latex over his tip, down his shaft, until it stopped near the base, fingertips brushing through his curls faintly, “—I always wear one, I don’t see why guys complain about it. It really doesn’t make a difference.”

You laugh softly, “Well, aren’t you a gentleman?”

“A godly gentleman, I hope.”

Your smirk softly, guiding your hips over his own, letting him rub his wide, aching tip through your folds, gathering up some of your slick before slipping in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the girth of him. You let out a quiet sigh, hips rocking slightly as you forced him deeper and deeper, a collective groan from the both of you when he was fully seated inside you.

“Let me untie your dress,” Eddie practically begs, yearning for the sight of your bare breasts and soft stomach as he fucked into you, wanting to see your body shift with every movement, “yeah?”

You nod, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you shifted your hips slightly, small lifted motions as you moved against his dick, Eddie muffled the groans in the alcove of your neck, fumbling with the tie until the dress fell loose, pooling at your hips.

“There we go.” He sighs in relief, pulling at your arms until they’re resting at your side, giving him the perfect view of you, so wound up and panting for relief, hair askew and in your face, much like his own. “Touch yourself, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t a new concept, you did it often—just never in the presence of others. But, Eddie sent a surge of confidence through you, something completely unexpected. Your fingertips dragging against the skin gently, body breaking out in goosebumps at the sensation, you squeeze at your breasts, receiving a small grunt from Eddie as he thrust into your harder, eyes locked on you, alternating between your working hands and exasperated face.

“Fuck—I thought you were so innocent,” He laughs warmly, hands gripping at your hips, thumbs digging into the curve of the bone settled their, rocking you in time with his eager thrusts, forceful and totally in control, “guess I was wrong.”

“Surprise.” You mock breathlessly, the soft mounds of flesh squeezed gently between your hands, thumbs rubbing over the hardened buds testingly—you’ve never been super responsive, but then Eddie is reaching his tongue out, following the drag of your thumb, and that concept flies completely out of the window.

“You gonna come on my dick?” He asks teasingly, mouthing at the undersized of your breasts, “—think you can come without me touching you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head in a hurry, the thought was like torture, but Eddie doesn’t budge, removing his hands from you fully, resting against the side of his van, arms outstretched at his side. You stop for a moment, frustrated.

“That’s not fair.” You pout slightly, earning an amused laugh from Eddie.

“If you want it so bad—you’ll get what you need,” Eddie tells you, his thighs nudging your hips forward slightly, causing him to slip even deeper, “take what you need, okay?”

You look at him with a heated gaze, lust and anger laced together, “Lay down.” You order, watching as he shifts eagerly, allowing you full room to stretch your hands over his chest as he lays back, giving you the perfect amount of space to lose yourself, rocking your hips at a pace that has Eddie choking on air, palms pressed firmly against the material of his shirt, gripping slightly for assistance.

“Fuck—okay,” Eddie pants, meeting your thrust with fervor, “I see how it is—shit, please tell me your close.”

“So close,” You whine, “God—so fucking close.”

Eddie makes a noise, “Mmm, not god, sweetheart.”

“Fuck off.” You laugh through baited breath, mouth hung open on a wordless gasp as he thrust into your harshly, hitting a spot so deep that you’re curling forward at the suddenness, nearly coming then, but you try to hang on, “Eddie—-shit—“

“It’s alright.” He nods, hair messy and bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat, rubbing your thighs tenderly, letting you rock your hips with such an intensity that he can’t hold back any longer, coming almost immediately after you, both of your desperate gasps of pleasure mixing together, cunt clenching tightly around him as you came, almost completely untouched—it was intense and visceral and like nothing you’ve ever felt. Eddie pants loudly, letting out a sudden laugh when you finally lock eyes.

“Oh, don’t look so smug.” You chide, shoving at him gently.

Eddie doesn’t respond, leaning up to kiss you without warning, you make a noise of surprise, not offended in the slightest, but deeply caught off guard. Eddie pulls away slowly, staring at you hesitantly.

“That felt overdue, I’m sorry.” Eddie apologizes.

He doesn’t expect you to return the same eagerness, nearly toppling him back, lips pressed against him with all the energy and feeling you could muster, indulging in the simple act of kissing him. You’ve never experienced anything this special; so raw and real, it was exhilarating.

Eddie slips out of you gently, tying up the condom and disposing of it in the front of his van, a small trash can nestled underneath the dash—it was filled to the brim already, which wasn’t surprising. You dress quickly, watching as Eddie shifted and tucked himself back inside his jeans quietly, eyes lingering on you the entire time.

“No more excuses, okay?” Eddie says, “I get it if you don’t want to be seen with me at school—I can live with that, but seriously—I like you.”

You smile sweetly, tugging at your jacket pocket until it falls open, “I like you too, Eddie.” You find the bag of weed with ease, tossing it in his direction. “Keep the money, I don’t need it.”

Eddie catches it with one hand, “Same time next week then?”

You nod eagerly, leaning up to press a chaste kiss against his cheek, “Don’t be late.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #1kfic

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softxsuki · 7 months

Note

Hi, I hope I sent this in time! This is for Valentines Day Letter event. I'd like to request a letter with Pro!Hero Todoroki with a quirkless Fem!reader. We're in an established relationship (we were highschool sweethearts and have been together ever since). Also, I'd like if he called me 'honey' in the letter.

Tone/Genre: Proposal and adoration

Location: We live together but, he's always out on hero duty so I rarely see him home. The letter was left on a page of my favorite book.

Other info: We're both 25. I'm a hopeless romantic and, he does everything he can to show his love and appreciation for me. Sometimes I overthink but, he's there to support me. I'm quirkless so, I work as a digital artist. While waiting for him to return home, I do my hobbies which are reading, writing.

Thanks!

Todoroki's Proposal Letter to His Girlfriend

This event is now CLOSED, but you can view the masterlist for the other letters here.

Warnings: kissing?

Note: Hey! Happy Valentine's Day, hope you enjoy your letter from Todoroki :)

You were finally relaxed for the evening after coming home from work, your body practically melting into your favorite chair. Your boyfriend, Todoroki had paid someone to create a little reading nook for you, but perhaps it was more like your own mini library. There were shelves upon shelves of books you needed to read along with sprinkles of books you’ve already read and loved.

Your fingers find the book you had been making your way through and couldn’t wait to get lost within the words on the page for another evening while waiting for your boyfriend to return home from his hero duties. Though, as you flip to the page your bookmark was holding, you furrow your brows in confusion at the envelope tucked between the pages.

You gently open it, closing your book and placing it to the side as you begin to read the letter to yourself;

Dear Y/N,

If I’m correct about your daily habits, then it should be around 7pm when you’re finally reading this and I’m hopefully almost home to say this to you directly. But…in the slight chance that I’m not, you’ll probably never see this and I’ll have to come up with another plan.

Happy Valentine’s Day, honey. I can’t believe how long we’ve been together. Looking back on our high school days, I could never picture myself giving my heart to someone, trusting and loving them unconditionally, yet now I can’t imagine my life without you in it.

You’ve remained by my side through all my family mess and helped me through so many difficult moments in my life. So thank you for loving me and accepting me for all my flaws. I’m terrible at saying these things to you directly. It’s hard for me to fully be vulnerable about my feelings and at times I don’t want to burden you with them even more than I already have.

However, lately I can’t help but want to be even closer to you. The reassurance that you’re here to stay, that you’ll be mine forever. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. We already live together, why not seal the deal?

I don’t want to ask you this important question in a letter when I’m not home to see how you’ll react, but please wait for me for a few more minutes. I’ll be there to ask you shortly. I love you.

Yours,

Sho.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest at the words you read. Was he really about to come home and propose to you? Was that what he was hinting at? Your cheeks felt hot at the idea of him wanting to be your husband.

Did you look okay? You had gotten comfortable in your pajamas for the night already. Would it be better if you changed into something nicer?

Yet you had no time to change or do anything as the familiar beep of the electronic lock in your home sounded, signaling Todoroki was already home. You scramble to your feet and rush to the front door to see him.

Todoroki, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, enters, closing the door behind him, before turning to face you, his eyes softening at the sight of you. You had read his letter, he knew you did.

“Welcome home,” you greet him, eyeing the flowers, your heart thumping in your chest.

He closes the distance between you, pressing a kiss to your lips and taking your hand with his free one.

“Great to be home, I missed you,” a small smile appears on his usually stoic face as he hands you the flowers in his hands, “Got theses for you, honey. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You clutch the flowers in your arms tightly, thanking him. Then he gets down on one knee, one hand still firmly holding yours as he removes a box from his pocket and opens it to display a unique, yet beautiful ring inside it.

“I’m sure you read the letter I left for you and it’s true. I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Not only as my partner, but as my other half. I love you Y/N, more than I thought I’d ever love someone. Would you please marry me?”

It was a little awkward as he fumbled over his words, not used to saying these things out loud, but it was perfect in your eyes.

With teary eyes, you nod your head. You wanted this, you wanted to be his wife and have him as your husband. Making a vow to remain together till death do you part.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” you cry out, watching him as he placed the beautiful ring that fit your taste perfectly, on your ring finger.

He props himself back on his feet so he’s eye level with you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek as one of his hands holds the hand with your ring on it, one of his fingers running over the gem.

“Should we just get married now in town?” He asks, almost impatient to call you his wife.

You laugh gently at his subtle excitement beyond his stoic expression that once again took over his features.

“There’s no rush. Let’s enjoy the engaged life for a bit. You’re at the peak of your career right now, we have forever to get married,” you smile, calming him down before he carries you to the marriage registrar’s office.

Reluctantly, he nods at your request. He was excited to marry you, but more than willing to follow your wishes and give you an extravagant wedding ceremony if that’s what you desired. Your life together as an engaged couple was just beginning, and you were beyond excited for what the future held for the both of you.

Posted: 2/14/2024

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x you #shoto x reader #shoto x you #shoto x y/n

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milkywaydrabbles · 1 year

Text

He who was bound in chains, set free.

Cross posted on AO3, link here, mindful of the tags!

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

It felt like an eternity, day in and day out wandering the vastless land. In fear. In silence. Alone. With nothing but the clothes on your back, a worn down dagger and whatever scraps of food you’ve found stashed away within a pouch. You’ve come to lose sense of time after what seemed like the third full moon you’ve seen since escaping Gresit. Just stepping foot in front of foot for hours, not looking up, not looking ahead. Just at your feet, one after the other. Making sure you don’t trip, fall, or ensnare yourself in a beast trap lest you’d like to lose your foot. Spring was tepid, albeit rather harsh at night. Or was it the night monsters?

Those terrors.

The reason you barely slept. How could you? Your days were spent traveling alone by foot, staying away from towns as best you could and eating whatever the Earth Mother decided to give you that hadn’t rotted away yet. Your nights? Filled with painful screeches from both monster and man. You hid yourself as best you could each night. For ages you were able to keep hidden, and quiet amongst the brush, even digging holes as deep as your weak and broken hands would let you, cover your scent with mud and dead things, and do nothing but stay hidden and silently weep while you waited for daybreak.

You’d gotten crafty with it, really. After being alone and living a merciless hell day in and day out you’ve really found how to hide yourself in the evening times. Sometimes even nodding off, if the screams weren’t so loud. Or if the exhaustion hit you like a horse. Sometimes you even thought yourself remarkable. How, a lowly peasant girl has been able to live on her own for this long, with remnants of Dracula’s army still traipsing through the lands. You’ve heard -- sometimes seen -- men thrice the size of you fall to their knees, arms ripped from shoulder, sockets filled with torn muscle and skin, blood spewing like a fountain. Seen the way soldiers have been ripped in half with ease by the demons of the night.

And here you are.

Just a lowly peasant girl.

Alive.

It’s about all you can tell yourself to keep you from ripping at the seams. As if life hadn’t already been so god damned terrible to you. The heavens just open up and shit on your future with monsters running amok. Ah, well, you think, so bitterly to yourself. Better than what it was, I suppose.

Some days you’re not so sure.

You’ve just about convinced yourself that life was easier this way. Not having to think much or do extra work for others, until one wrong move at night -- and so close to day break! -- had given your position away. It was as if, almost in slow motion, you saw those terrifying red eyes find you within the dirt and muck. You swore you saw the thing smile. It’s next meal, is probably what it was thinking. Shock almost entirely took over your body, wouldn’t move a single muscle, not even a twitch of a finger. Until it stepped towards you.

A crack of a branch under its mangled limbs, and you were off deeper into the woods once more.

You couldn’t breathe, could barely hear over the ringing of your ears. But the monster was just loud enough to hear over it all, just loud enough to hear how close it was getting to you. Your lungs burned, trying so hard to escape this thing. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you blinked as aggressively as your body would let you as to not let the fear consume your sight as well. It was getting close.

Closer.

I’m going to die, you thought. I’m going to die and I have nothing to show for it. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die--

It took everything you had, mind, body and strength to force your intent to something, anything, that will save you. Your eyes closed for a moment, you turned around, your body facing this thing, and you grasped as tightly as your fingers would let you to your skirt. You were going to die, with nothing to show for it. You were certain.

But then a sharp snap and a following shriek pierced your ears. You were too scared to look. Maybe the scream you heard was yourself. An out of body experience. The afterlife letting you know it’s time to come home. But it wasn’t. You stood there, waiting for something, anything, to let you know if you were alive or dead. It felt like hours, though you know better. A blurred eye was opened, and your gaze slowly moved up, until you saw...a branch? Shoved through the maw of the night monster and piercing through the skull cavity. What you can only imagine being the frontal cortex of this thing splattered across what remained of its head, and along the wood that took it out.

You blinked.

You blinked some more.

And then you cried.

You wept like you haven’t been able to in ages. Loud, with everything you had left, with globs of tears running down your face. Broken, and beaten, and bruised. You cried like you’ve wanted every night since you escaped from Gresit. Hell, cried like you’ve wanted to since you were still in Gresit. Your legs gave out, knees buckling until you fell, one hand supporting you so you didn’t crumble into nothing, the other covering your face as best you could. You still wanted to muffle your noises, lest you attract another one of those things. But you were so exhausted. You finally did something right. You finally were able to use it somehow. In a way for you.

Magic.

The poor peasant girl, born a witch to religious parents. Deemed a monster, deemed a heretic. Betrayed, and sold, and used. Just for being born.

Born a witch.

You laid there out in the open until the sun’s first ray broke through. Signifying you had survived another night. And had at least one more day ahead of you. You thanked whatever gods you had previously cursed, I didn’t really mean it, honest. And begrudgingly got up, and continued on.

The way you have been for the last however long.

---

Blurred days have passed again. And you've gotten into your routine again. A bit jittery, but routine nonetheless.You took a bite of some ...meat...you had found and cooked along the way. You want to say it was a fox, but didn’t think too much on it. You’ll lose your appetite. And you barely had one to begin with. It was something to keep your stomach settled. That’s all food was good for these days anyways. Just something to keep your stomach settled. You wandered fruitlessly until you saw a peak of, of something. In the distance. A peak of a house? Maybe... You wanted to start steering clear of it. From the very tiny thing you could see, it was obviously very tall. Which meant very big house. Which meant people you mostly definitely didn’t want to see. But you decided to rest first. You’d been on your feet all day, not a second to even sit. So you did. And then you laid. And then you slept.

Mistake.

You woke up with all your fire alight with fear. You were out in the open, in the dark.

It was night time. And you hadn’t protected yourself.

Oh, shit.

You did everything you could to scramble to your feet and try to find some form of protection, but it was really too late. The monsters in the air had already scented you out. As if once within the last few days wasn’t enough. Looks like the gods took your cursing to heart.

You knew you could have tried what you did last time. Magic, and all that. But you were so tired. And you hadn’t been eating much of anything. And there was three of them and you didn’t have time to think and--

You ran.

You ran towards that big, tall, house. You tripped, and you fell, and got back up and ran some more towards that house. Your lungs could have collapsed, feeling like they were on fire all over again. You almost just thought of letting them kill you. You were so tired of running, and just barely surviving. But your adrenaline wouldn’t let you stop moving for even a second. Your saving grace was really the trees that hindered those things from easily snatching you up.

That didn’t stop them from trying.

Claws jabbed at your arms when they did reach down. Taking out that rusted dagger you really only used for food, you stabbed between its toes, and hearing its cries as it ripped away, taking a bit of your skin with it. And it hurt. It hurt more than most things you reckon you’ve felt in this lifetime. And you screamed, but you continued nonetheless. A few more swipes at you, and a few more jabs at its feet, and more than a few more punctures to your arms, you saw the house in sight. And it was big. Except it was worse than you could have imagined.

It was Dracula’s bloody castle.

The gods took extra offense, it seems.

But you couldn’t stop now, could you? You could only hope and wish and pray that whatever guardian had taken hold of the castle now would give you a swift mercy killing rather than be flayed by these things. Maybe even keep you alive as a blood bank. Living in solitude as a food source sounded awful. But not as awful as living in servitude to a beast disguised as a human as a...you shook it off. It wasn’t time to think of anything right now. Nothing except survival.

You reached the open field the castle was in, you think you were yelling for help but you couldn’t be sure. You couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. You could barely see, black dotting your vision. You couldn’t feel your legs anymore. This wasn’t how you wanted to die. Especially not after you survived against one of them. But life is cruel to witches, so it seems. You kept running until your leg crumbled beneath you, so then you crawled. You looked up to the sky, it had started to rain. You didn’t notice. How could you notice? All you were looking for were the monsters stalking you for fun now. And one was getting ready to swoop down and gather you up for dinner. A sob escaped, bubbling up from your throat. You closed your eyes and waited. Waited. Waited.

And just like the last time. Nothing came. Nothing but cracks and shrieks of pain. You opened your eyes quicker than the last, too scared to not see. The last bit you saw before the final monster laid dead on the floor was a glint of silver, flying past you towards the house. You scrambled to get up and see who or what would be in front of you.

You honestly thought you died, because the man in front of you looked so ethereal it had to be an angel. A little worse for wear, maybe a soldier, but an angel. You could laugh if you remembered how to do that.

A tall, slender man with a gnarly scar across his chest between the opening of his shirt, beautiful blonde curls framed his somehow feminine and masculine face. That scar could do nothing to deter the beauty that lay before you.

Neither could the culled bodies on steaks that weren’t even fully decomposed yet in front of the doors, but you don’t think your tunnel vision really saw that.

You wanted to thank him, beg him for mercy. You opened your mouth,

“I’m sorry”

You started to spill nonsense.

“I’m sorry, just let me” you stumbled, trying to go towards the castle. His sword-- his magical, floating sword-- pointed towards you, his face unchanging in its stoicism.

“Just let me lean against the stone of your home, please, just for a minute” you stumbled again, this time on your backside. You made way to get back up, but it was so hard. “I’ll leave within the hour, you’ll never see me again. I just need...I just need to rest” You pushed up with one leg, and immediately collapsed again, legs fully giving out.

“I’m sorry, thank you, just a minute..” Your vision blurred more, black taking over. The last thing you remember seeing were the boots of your savior, before you hit dirt unconscious.

#alucard (castlevania)#alucard x reader #alucard tepes x reader #alucard tepes #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania (2017)#reader insert #CHAPTER ONE IS OUT BABY

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restless-witch · 8 months

Text

better not wake the baby - spring part 2

link to chapter on ao3- ya gotta be logged in though

Fic Summary: Jaskier isn't helpless. He'd been a shepherd before. He'd killed a wolf before. He'll slaughter again if that's the price of freedom.

Fic Rated M: explicit gore/medical descriptions and miscarriage/abortion aftermath, swearing, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, really gross attitudes towards omegas, abusive relationships, references to fucking, brief suicidal ideation, tbh I'll probably write some actual fucking later

This fic was current up and to part 17 of Honey - Sometimes the Tunnel Only Leads to Darkness and after better not wake the baby- spring part 1. You'll enjoy this fic more if you’ve read them <3

Witcher 3 + Netflix / This part is rated T for contains references to sexual stuff and swearing

heyyo @oldandkinky it's a treat for you and me we've got some plot happening

Drown yourself in crocodile tears Curse the gods what made 'ye Pine away for your banner year But it better not wake the baby How long will this go on? How long, indeed? bang a drum 'till the money's all gone- but it better not wake the baby -The Decemberists - What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World

He'd spent his first weeks on the lam in the wilds and resolves not to fucking do that again- even now that he's got his pack properly filled. It's easier to avoid Geralt in the woods but the constant trapping of game for supper wore on him as quickly as the misery of waiting out the spring rains did.

All told, he was lucky to be in this part of Redania, where itinerant work was a little easier to come by and the locals generally still observed the customs of hospitality.

He emerged from Lettenhove in time for the spring plowing and thanked the lone lucky star watching over him that the local gossips were still chattering over the white haired witcher that left weeks ago.

He was free of outrunning Geralt, for at least a little while.

Geralt was hunting him, he was sure- the scorched garden back home confirmed Geralt's rage even if Jaskier was foolish enough to think the witcher would take his flight easily. Living on the path, however, was not free and Geralt would need to slow his chase for coin.

Jaskier really hoped he wasn't banking too much on gossip to keep him ahead, or behind, Geralt.

He drifted between towns for a few weeks, living just a little better than hand to mouth, taking jobs in the fields and hunting for herbs to sell. The cuts and bruises he accumulated on jobs went away as easily as if he'd wiped them off and, more out of boredom than anything, he forms the sign of igni and a sputtering flame erupts from his fingertips. Which scares the shit of him enough that it's another week before he tries again: the signs have mixed success but he's torn between the terror of his foreign body and the desperate drive to take any advantage he can. He feels unsettled by this life- too close to what he experienced on the path, too close to the little jobs he'd take back home- feels like he's stagnating and mouldering even as he pushes his body farther beyond what he knew he should be capable of.

It's outside of Rinde that the grift begins.

It was raining- a heavy downpour through the night and into the day that seemed to follow Jaskier as he slogged through the muddy roads and only the guess-timate of Rinde being a three hour walk that forced his feet all the way to the inn.

Well, he thought it was the inn, but the unamused Ealdorman's clerk quickly dashed that presumption. The clerk mutters a curse into his ledger before asking if the amount on the posting is enough for him to just get on with it .

"Pardon?" Jaskier can't help but be polite.

"One drowner," the clerk enunciated, like Jaskier was some kind of fool, "I understand that's more a nuisance in your profession," he exaggeratedly looked down at Jaskier's chest, "but Kazimierz finally emptied the orphanage."

Oh. The medallion. The lover's medallion, smaller than Geralt's but, proclaiming an allegiance to the school of the Wolf. He'd nearly forgotten he wore it at all and had kept it around his neck merely to keep it safe for when he eventually pawned it. It must have wrested itself outside of his clothes while he hunched from the rain. With Tomek wrapped and strapped to his back and his gambeson worn to protect him from the cold- he can't even fault the clerk for his assumptions.

Before he can help himself, he's agreeing to the contract.

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

In retrospect, killing his first drowner wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done but it was the most frightening thing he'd ever done by choice. The White Wolf killed the others a few weeks back, but the lone remnant had made enough trouble by the bridge that the ealdorman promised him room and board for a week if he'd rid them of it. The room was a barn stall and the board was a meager basket of vegetables and eggs, but he'd been on the road enough that a week with the same roof over his head was plenty.

He's so fucking stupid- but wasn't like trying to outsmart a witcher had really gotten him any progress. He knew a lot about drowners, for all that the witchers griped about contracts for them- it really was because they were a nuisance to a witcher. Hardly a monster and more of giant rancid smelling pain in the ass that mostly got handled by witchers because a crowd of them would overwhelm a normal human by the stench alone.

This was... doable if he didn't act a complete fool.

He went out the next afternoon when the rain had finally abated and found a gnarled yew tree. He climbed up and tested the boughs- swinging himself from a few of them and settling on the one with the best line of sight. He hung his pack on the branch above him and nocked his bow. He waited-

and waited-

well, fuck maybe he should've tried to track it during daylight hours.

At twilight it dragged itself out of the water- happily munching on a bullfrog. Jaskier loosed an arrow and the drowner squealed when it sank into its foot. It squalled as it tried to yank its foot off the ground- the beast didn't even wonder where it came from. He loosed a second towards the other foot but it sailed peacefully into the water. The third trapped the other foot and the drowner had enough mind to rip the fifth out of its chest.

He'd have to get closer then.

Jaskier pulled Tomek from the branch above and hopped down: he tried casting igni but panicked and the sputtering flame just alerted the drowner to his presence- the drowners' fins flaring when it turned to claw at him. It lurched forward uselessly with its feet stuck, but it kept screeching and Jaskier wondered if his ears were bleeding. He threw his whole weight behind a clean aim towards its neck.

His swing went wide and when he rolled to the side to try and not trip he ended up just bashing its skull in with the blunt side. It crumpled to the ground but he frantically hacked away at the corpse until the head was completely severed.

He vomited onto the rocky shore.

The body had stopped twitching: the gills dried out quickly and the revolting smell of rot and fish blood got stronger. Dawn was an hour or two away and Jaskier carefully crept back up the yew and pulled down his pack. He drank a little water and then a little temerian rye when his trembling wouldn't stop. He sat on the bank of the river and by the time daylight had started creeping over the body- he saw that the outside flesh was a mottled blue but the inside of the neck was grey. He stood back up and ambled back to the body, wrenching out his arrows, and kicking it over. It didn't look like a drowned person. It looked like a fish person with fine little scales and fins like a catfish. That-

that made it easier. It didn't really look like a person. if it was once a human then it hadn't been one for a very long time.

The tongue, he remembered, was the traditional proof of the kill for a drowner. Something that annoyed Geralt because of how long they were.

By this point, death had opened the jaw of the drowner's head for him and it was quick if very messy work to cut the tongue out. He panicked again. He hadn't thought ahead about what to do with the tongue. He paced the shore and panicked and panicked and panicked and until he was laughing hysterically.

The great shuddering laughter did make him feel better in a way- it made the bit of flesh in his hand seem so fucking stupid and he did do it, he'd killed a verifiable monster.

Gods he was so fucked-

he'd done it though

-behind his heaving laughter he could feel the smallest reluctant flutter of hope in his chest. no he wasn't a witcher but maybe-

maybe he could go along with the hoax better than he thought he could. Most of their contracts were small like this, right? Maybe his grift wasn't as foolish as he'd thought it was.

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

He'd persuaded the ealdorman's wife to let him use her wash tub and fetch water from their well: he dragged them into the barn and stripped down. It was then he realized his smallclothes were sticky with drying slick. He felt revolted. He hadn't felt aroused but it must've happened when he was slaying the drowner. He'd been so caught up in the urgency and the terror, he hadn't noticed his body readying for what usually followed. Panic and arousal were tied together in his body. He'd known Geralt had ruined his twinges of lust but this was different. He was disgusting. A wretched example of an omega. A wretched example of a lover. He hated it. Hated his body.

But it was all he had now. His silly dream of being a bard would never happen with his scarred face. Perhaps a wandering worker that occasionally busked, but no true bard could make it without a bit of wooing and he wasn’t feeling so vain as to pretend they were easy to ignore. No good alpha would take him with the bond mark or scarred womb, even if he claimed Geralt's death. He wasn't soft anywhere an omega should be. Not anymore.

He stood above the bath a long time, avoiding looking at his blurry reflection. He tries casting igni again and his (traitorous) body didn’t hesitate to actually call the chaos this time so at least he was staring into a frothy steaming bath instead. The minerals in the water filled his chest in a different way than the well water at home: which now that he thought about it, very rarely steamed with as much fervor either. He's told the air by the sea is salty in a good way, the only things he could compare it to are Kaer Morhen's springs and the Pontar, which sounds so strange and foreign he can hardly imagine it. Maybe he'll go to the coast, it's just as good a direction as any, become a sailor, just because he's playing Witcher now doesn't mean he can't try to wheedle a life aloft.

The water was a bearable temperature by the time he finally calmed his thoughts enough to step in and it was like he cast axii on himself, the hot water sluicing all his thoughts away.

He made up for the lack of payment by winning a few boxing matches: the smattering of scars on his torso and face were enough to convince the local tavern owner that he'll give a good show. The food in the basket left as payment by the ealdorman's wife dwindled quickly- he honestly hadn't planned on staying for the full week- but Zosia seemed to have a soft spot for him because a few more eggs and turnips and even a loaf of bread rolled in.

He paced the fields some- he killed a wolf prowling around and traded the pelt for a pair of boots and a handsome belt. The belt, regrettably and unavoidably, got traded for a fresh quiver of arrows and a proper sharpening for Tomek and his knife.

All told; a week earned him a purse of coppers (perhaps a lean two crowns when added up), Zosia ladling him a secret pot of milk as he leaves, and pointers to a few towns where he might find a little work.

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

He stumbled his way through the rest of the spring, mostly making coin helping with the tilling and taking on a contract for a warg which wasn't so different from killing a wolf besides the fact that the medallion that earns him the contract also earns him the missive to take his coin and leave before sundown. The same goes for flashing his medallion when he sells to the apothecarist- less bartering on the prices or the quality, but the same directive to leave the damned town the same day.

Town to town he goes and mingles and meets a handful of people who spot his medallion and ask after their friend Geralt . Jaskier briefly, in a moment of near insanity, wonders if there's a second witcher named Geralt of the Wolf School that just never returns to the Kaer for the Geralt they tell him of is gentle and carries a tome of poetry and permits brave children to ride Roach.

But the details remain the same- white hair, School of the Wolf, and a predilection for plums and brunettes- and Jaskier was forced to hold up the possibility that Geralt was a master manipulator of a caliber he didn't even know was possible to have charmed people in so many places into believing he was kind .

He supposed he too once thought Geralt was kind, for an afternoon, and perhaps they just never frustrated him enough for Geralt to lose his patience. The lone exception is an elf in the market who proclaims Jaskier and the other members of his guild "fine enough" but asks him to spit on Geralt the next time they meet as payback for "whatever striga crawled up his ass and died."

He agreed to do it for the both of them and feels vindicated when the elf elaborates that the witcher had been good-natured enough until their last meeting two years ago.

Jaskier traveled, he worked, he met folk foul and fair.

He survived and, for a time, that was enough.

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

Towards the end of the day, Nenneke was sealing her correspondence with wax, when Anka informed her that "an acquaintance has come by on an important matter." Anka added that it's a witcher but not the same one as last time, she thought, she's not sure. Anka's devotion to the goddess was admirable but her attention for anything but nurturing plants was rather lacking- Nenneke was surprised Anka noticed a visitor at the gate at all. Nenneke sank into her chair a bit, closing her eyes as she drew in a long breath, because she was getting a little done with Geralt breathing down her neck like she was his errand boy.

"Make sure there's a bed available," she finally said, resisting the urge to just turn him away, "and tell him I'll attend to him when I'm done."

Done ended up being close to supper, after the postulant's vows of evening silence had taken hold: so she arranged for Geralt to eat with her in the hall outside the infirmary ward. She was tucking into a bowl of pottage when the witcher arrived but it wasn't Geralt that hesitantly strode across the hall.

It was his little omega who wasn't so little anymore. His frame had thickened out and he was bearing more than a few scars- but the mating mark on his neck was still clear to the world. Anka must have arranged for him to bathe as well because he smelled merely of soap and soft citrusy omega nervousness. She carefully took a long breath and couldn't detect the acrid smell of terror he had last time or Geralt for that matter.

This was going to be interesting.

"Priestess Nenneke," he said softly, taking the seat across from her, his frame curled small as he humbly bowed his head to her, "thank you for taking the time to see me."

"You weren't 'the witcher' I expected to see," she said, leaning back and gesturing for him to accept the bowl across from her, she huffed a little laugh, "I'd be a poor priestess of Melitele if I turned away a traveler."

He gave a little snort and the two ate in silence for a while. If Nenneke were younger, she would've tried to pry more from him: but he wasn't her first battered omega to show up without his alpha and he certainly wouldn't be her last. She wordlessly pressed a second serving on him- he'd bulked up a bit but there was a leanness to his cheeks she didn't like in omegas.

"Has Geralt come to see you?" he finally asked, eyes trained on pulling the crust off his bread.

"Since we last met?" He nodded, "Yes, once. About a month ago- after Belleteyn." She watched him carefully and, instead of a spike of worry, his smell remained carefully nervous.

"Did he take Essi?" he started to press the inside of his bread flat.

"He couldn't if he tried," Nenneke said plainly, his eyes darted to her face and searched her eyes, "her rearing is in the temple's hands now. Besides," she gave an arch smile, "he can't tell her from Embla," there's no mistaking the relief that floods out of him and she started to feel a real fondness for him when his shoulders go slack.

"Is she happy here?"

"Truthfully, I don't see her often," Nenneke gave a little hum, "but we take care of our girls. She's the temple's now and I wouldn't even let you take her."

There was a pause as he took that in, he must have settled on accepting it because he sighed and turned a more serious glance to Nenneke, "Thank you, for taking care of her and easing my mind," he chewed his lip a bit, "I suppose I should tell you I've been traveling and working a bit as a witcher. The Witcher Yulek."

"I don't suppose it's with his permission you are doing this," she said, Jaskier shook his head, "you're too old for Vesemir to try and make a real witcher out of you anyway."

Jaskier swallowed and Nenneke could smell a load of trouble.

"Why are you here, Yulek?" she asked him firmly, "you knew when you signed Essi into our care that she'd not be leaving until she was an adult. Geralt isn't stupid enough to break the peace just to get her away from me."

"Will you tell him I was here?" she could smell anxiety begin to bloom in his scent.

"Is that what you want?" she retorted sharply and wrinkled her nose from his scent bursting with emotions, "I suppose that answers that. My allegiance isn't to him and I'll forgive the insult you'd think it would be," she scrutinized him intensely and saw his hands tighten on his lap like a child getting a scolding- she felt herself soften a bit, for he wasn't yet much more than a child, "my duty is to the people seeking Melitele's help here, now what is it you came here for?"

"My body," he said quietly, "I don't recognize it. Something is happening to me. He was going to kill me: he was going too far. And then I noticed- the changes. You must see-"

He wordlessly took a knife from his belt and cut into the flesh inside his arm- over a spot where she noticed a curious handful of similar scars.

He must have done this before.

She kept herself in her seat and the two sat in silence as the blood quickly clotted- before he could bleed out- far quicker than should have been possible. She cycled through thoughts- a curse, some sort of latent skill for chaos, the trials-

She still wet her apron and tended to it, wiping away the blood as she'd done so many times to so many omegas.

"It's not the food," he continued, "I've been on my own since before Birke- I don't-" he trailed off.

That ruled out going through the Choice like Leo.

"He used to drink something,"Jaskier said, "some kind of fertility treatment, could that have changed me?"

"That doesn't sound likely," she said frankly, "for a draught to do that, it would need to be very concentrated in his body, not yours." Nenneke looked him over again, new eyes examining the way his shoulders had filled out and the thickness of his hair and the scars scrawled across his face, "is there anything beyond what you have shown me?"

"I can cast a sign," he bit his lip, "sometimes."

"May I touch you?" she asked and Jaskier nodded. She patted along his body, the nodes where chaos was prone to collecting, and felt the latent hum she associated with the witcher adepts.

How strange-

"Did you meet Eskel?" she could recall, many years ago, Eskel studying at the temple with all the other Witcher adepts and massaging a lame kitten back to health, "he has more chaos in his hands then the stones of power."

Jaskier's body locking under her hands was answer enough, "we wintered together," he said through his teeth.

"If that is what is changing you," she said carefully, "I think you need to go back to Kaer Morhen to find out- that's beyond the scope of anyone here. They were secretive enough about that before the school fell."

"Was he always like that?" Jaskier gritted out, "was Geralt always like that?"

"I've never seen him take an omega before if that's what you're asking," Nenneke said. She watched Jaskier seem to collect himself, letting out a shuddering breath as he unlocked his jaw and kneaded his palms into his thighs.

"I've met people," he said, mouth full of piss and vinegar, like each word was pulled from his teeth, "who speak of a Geralt I've never met. Kind. Gentle. Funny, even. I can't imagine you being a friend to an arse like Geralt, was he like that once or are they liars?"

"People change," she said carefully, "he's had his shortcomings. But-"

"But?"

"The summer after Blaviken-" she said, "he changed. Blaviken was bad enough- but the summer after was especially cruel to him."

"It's like some kind of poison in his mind-"

Oh. The basilisk.

She hadn't even thought of that.

She needed to think.

She invited the boy, Yulek, Jaskier, Julian- whatever name worked- to stay at the temple while she thought.

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

Jaskier ended up staying at the temple for a whole week: earning his keep milling medicinal ingredients through the day. Nenneke introduced him to the novice Sorcha, a former Temerian Blue Stripes, who gave him a dirty tutoring in bomb making, battle dressing, and making medicine.

He leaves Ellander with a haircut, a silver dagger, and the dread that he must eventually, actually, realistically, return to the Kaer.

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

A/N- Encouragement and kind words will always make me more excited to write stuff <3 and feel free to dash off a message to me! I haven’t really made any friends in the fandom yet :3c

Thanks for reading, friends!

Rough and tumble ragged drafts on tumblr here: Actual Fic Better Not Wake The Baby

This fic is based on OldandKinky’s Honey-verse and you can also find them here: Honey-verse on Ao3 and OldandKinky on Ao3

and if you like my writing, I’ve also got “Varieties of Exile”

#actual fic better not wake the baby #geraskier #honeyverse #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher au #the witch writes

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tookishcombeferre · 5 months

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Taking a selfie, because why the hell not.

Also, here’s some advice from an elder queer who is almost thirty. (And PROUD! None of this EWWWWWW 30 crap! I worked hard to get this old!)

1) Never underestimate the power of dashboard karaoke. It might turn out great it might turn out terrible. Who knows? But, humans are born singers. Singing is good for us. It’s rainy. My kid is asleep in the back seat. I’m in a parking lot. It’s show tune city baby! (Just excerpts of whatever’s in my head. Bits and bobs of Epic III, Wait for Me, and Music of the Night - nothing fancy. Just whatever lyrics I remember. Whatever riffs I have in me. Singing the same 3 loops on repeat? Go for it!!)

2) The same thing goes for drawing and dancing. Sometimes, I’m not the best dancer. But, my jazz shoes still get love. You can do just as well in bare feet and/ or socks. My shoes are a recent investment. They help. But, socks are great. I promise. Dance badly. Stretch. Lift. Move your body in a fun way.

3) But, most importantly, life is going to give you a lot of shit. It’s been said many times, many ways, but you’re always coming out even after you’ve “come out.” And, that shit is heavy. It’s anxiety inducing. It’s a roller coaster of feeling. It’s up and down and you sometimes can feel like the belt of the roller coaster broke while you were mid loop. And, damn if that’s not valid. I know. I just managed to fix my seatbelt like yesterday. My head was in the clouds and I had no idea when and if I was going to make it back into myself anytime soon.

But, today? My eyes are clearer. I’m singing car karaoke with my toddler in the back seat. I’m gonna go get yogurt and make smoothies and drink tea. And, next month? I might be high near flung out the roller coaster again. But, I’ll find a way to ground myself again. Because life is worth it.

Car karaoke? Worth it.

My dog? Little shit is hella worth it.

My spouse? Worth it.

My kid? 1,000,000,000x worth it.

Me, my hopes, my dreams, and all that? Also worth it.

It’s taken 29 years to figure all that out. But, it is. It’s worth it. I promise you. It doesn’t always feel like it. There are days where I’ll be clinging to my bed post and I might say the only reason I’m still clinging to breath is because my kid needs me. There are days where it feels like everything needs done yesterday, and the world will end if everything isn’t in order tomorrow. Where my hair feels like it’s on fire, and I’ve turned into Gail Waters-Waters.

But, you keep living. You hold on tight. Hold onto the people who love you because people love you. There are so many things to keep looking forward to - even small things.

Trust my non-binary ass as it passes from one side of the rainbow bridge of wisdom to the other.

My wisdom/ TL;DR is this: The battle between the eye of the storm and the storm itself is *always* worth it no matter how long each part lasts. It’s not about things “getting better.” It’s about appreciating the good times for what they are, and knowing the bad times don’t last forever. I’ve dealt with these “storms” since I was at least 16. (Maybe longer.) My life is *worth it.* Not just for my spouse, and not just for my kid. But, for the joy I can feel in the joy I bring to others by existing in artistic spaces AND existing period. Find your space. Find your tribe. And find your gift. (Oh, be nice to yourself! You have one!!) Then, let it be nurtured by love.

🩷🩷Pip

#ok to reblog #life advice #elder queers #transgender #transmasc #almost 30 #i really should drink more water #my lips are so chapped #pip does life #rainy day tag

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peerlessscowl · 1 year

Text

Little Princess in a Terrible Mess

You’ve been trying to get used to this new, tiny life as best you can while your normal-sized classmates and colleagues try to find a way to reverse the curse. Up until now though you’ve had to go at it alone, making your own weapons and accommodations, but one day while you’re out foraging, you’re engulfed in a bright fire that, strangely, does not burn. Before you can make heads or tails of what exactly is happening, or if your feet are even still on the ground, you’re dropped roughly into a... house? Or rather, a dollhouse, but it can easily accommodate you and several of your allies. Beyond the windows, you can make out more fire, but vaguely there’s a face within the flames. PLAY. It commands you. Sometimes EAT. Other times SLEEP. You don’t know what will happen if you disobey, but there’s a stack of charcoal outside that gives you the creeps.

(Starter for @ladyleonster and @luminousrider)

Raven had had just about enough of this shit. It was difficult to tell if time moved differently with him being so small, but he truly had no way of tracking how long it had been since he'd been shrunk - for what? A bowl of stew to celebrate a group of people I'm not even involved in? who didn't even win?

He had some gripes about the situation, to very little end. Some of the monastery staff had been tasked with finding those who had been besmalled, and assured these folk that a solution was in progress, pending test results. It was promising, he'd been promised. That could have been anywhere from several hours to several days ago, but the world remained ever perilous. Finding food, trekking back to the safety of his quarters for lodging, nevermind class - danger waited around every corner, and for no saints-be-damned reason.

He stirred, groaning, awoken by a horrible scent in his nose, cold and cloying. He shifted, the angles of his body smacking against hard, smooth surfaces all around him, and he jumped, startled for a moment, thinking that perhaps he was trapped.

Which was true, but not nearly in a way he'd assumed. He was surrounded by…tapping a knuckle against it, he could not fathom it was glass - not sturdy enough, if he jabbed his elbow hard enough it would surely shatter - but if not glass, nor wood nor stone, then what? And why was it such a garish mess? All around him the slick hard surfaced shined a medley of saturated pinks, purples, and white. Tapping his toe briefly against the pattered floor told him that wasn't wood either, just more of the slick, hard surface.

"What in the world?"

RISE.

Raven whirled on his heel, hand automatically going for the swordbelt on his side before he remembered that he had not had a proper weapon in ages. The makeshift crystal weapons remained abandoned underground, and a quick glance around did not reveal anything he could use. Cautious, he stared down…the sun? No, not bright enough, and if he squinted, he could see what passed for a face, pressing against the side of his cell.

The light shone at a door, briefly, and he felt it speaking at him again.

JOIN YOUR FAMILY.

The blood froze in his veins, and Raven jerked his head to the door - his family? Here? Impossible - but - how - ? And he dashed, vaguely noticing that it was his bare feet slapping on the floor as he scrambled in the direction the light shone.

"Mother - ! Father - ! Prisc - !" He cut himself short, breathless, when instead he found Lady Ethlyn and another young woman, brunette and beautiful and muscular. His heart hammered in his chest, and, furious, he turned to face the sun once more.

PLAY.

#in character #thread: little princess in a terrible mess #interaction: ladyleonster #interaction: luminousrider #we even ninja'd in some aqua for the title

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3raaaachachacha · 2 years

Text

7:15 am

Seo Changbin x female reader / 667 words / angst / fluff

Warnings: physical therapy, traumatic memories, car accident, broken bones

~ hospital au ~

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

"Morning, Miss Y/N," Your physiotherapist cheered like he always did to secretly see your beautiful smile, "How are you feeling today? Any better?"

You smiled warmly at him before slowly getting yourself into a seated position by yourself, bringing a smile to Changbin's face since you've been practicing that one for a while now.

"I see you are," He teased as he sanitized his hands and made his way behind you to get your body to be straight, "Do you feel like you want to try and stand today?"

"Please," Was all you managed to let out because that extra strength was painful enough, but you were dying to speed this recovery process up. It was obvious to say you were close to going insane.

A few weeks ago, you were in a terrible car accident which left you with a few broken bones and bruised ribs. You were lucky it wasn't worse, but more than thankful that you had a supportive team of professionals who were more than willing to help. Your physiotherapist in particular. From day one, he stood by your side and little by little, encouraging you to continue with these exercises. You hated to admit it, but slowly, you could feel yourself falling for him.

Changbin moved from behind you to stand in front of you as he began to explain what he wanted to try today. He pulled you to your feet from a seated position as your front rested on his for support before helping you to sit down again. You smiled fondly at him before letting him help you.

It was as if it all happened too fast, the moment you stood on your feet, your body nearly gave way beneath you, and Changbin caught you with ease as he fell to the ground first to protect you from hurting yourself more.

"Changbin!" You cried, trying to get off him but your body was in too much pain to do anything, "I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot."

Changbin was frantic, not that he fell, more so for your safety, "Don't be silly, Y/N," He exclaimed as he kneeled in front of you to inspect your injuries, "Are you in pain? Tell me where you're hurting."

"I'm okay," You whispered, "Can you just get me off the floor please."

Without a word, Changbin carefully helped you back into bed, wiping the stray tears on your cheeks once you were laying down, "I'm sorry if I pushed you today, I thought you'd be ready since you've been doing so well. I just want to help you. The two weeks you've been here, you've been all alone and my heart hurts seeing you in pain, crying alone and going through this by yourself."

You smiled warmly at him before taking a hold of his hand, "I'm sorry for lying. I've been in so much pain but didn't want to say anything because I just want this to be over with," You said as a few tears fell down your cheeks, "Both my parents died last year, my friends are overseas at the moment and my ex-boyfriend broke up with me a few days before the accident. I contacted him but he told me not to contact him anymore. I've got nobody and being in this hospital is making me realize that. I just need to speed this process up."

Despite knowing this was unprofessional of him, he couldn't help but want to wrap you up in a hug, so he did. One that you willingly allowed, "I know this is wrong of me, but I can't bear to see you like this. Let me help you, please? Let me be the person you rely on.”

Eagerly nodding your head as thousands of tears streamed down your face, your grip on Changbin tightened, as you thanked him over and over.

Sometimes, they do say you'll meet someone when you least expect it. Maybe this was your time, finding someone at your lowest point.

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

- Admin 🌶️

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softly-potter · 2 years

Text

Little Love | Chapter 6: Week 20

Summary: When Wanda ends up pregnant a few weeks before their wedding, having an impending family shocks them both.

Pairing: Bucky X Wanda

Word Count: 14,401

Warning: some lovin’ married smut

Chapter 6: Week 20

Wanda had always been a light eater, picking at her food rather than eating it. But as her twentieth week approached, she found herself ravenous, finishing her plate every meal and sometimes requesting seconds.

Bucky was more than happy to oblige to her cravings, happy she was consuming enough food for herself and the baby. Upon his multitude of research, he’d found that it was a common method to eat five small meals throughout the day to insure a consistent flow of calories, and he was perfectly fine with constantly cooking.

“Good morning, husband,” Wanda said, grinning like a child as she turned to walk up behind him, looping her arms around his waist. “What's for breakfast?”

“Thought I'd try my hand at homemade waffles,” he replied, focusing on the bowl in his hands as he whisked. “Grab me the strawberries? Gonna put them on top.” Wanda made a delighted sound, speeding to the fridge and swinging the door open. “Hey, hey, slow down.”

While still small, she was larger than most women at twenty weeks, the fetus apparently growing quicker than a normal baby, and Bucky insisted she be careful with her movements. During her weekly appointments, Bruce had lightly broached the topic of labor induction, or perhaps a scheduled C-section, and while it scared him, Bucky agreed whatever was best, they would do.

Placing a plastic bowl of strawberries on the counter, Wanda peered up at him, beckoning with her hand. He chuckled and leaned down so she could kiss him.

“These should be done soon,” he said as he pulled back. “Why don’t you prop your feet up till they’re ready?”

“I was just laying down.” Wanda shrugged, brushing her hair from her face. “I need to move, just a little.”

He eyed her, but nodded. She was getting stir crazy, he could tell.

The moment he placed the whip cream and strawberry waffles in front of her, she dug her fork in, slicing the dough into smaller chunks and popping them in her mouth. Bucky folded his arms, leaning against the counter as he waited for her judgment.

She chewed thoughtfully, her eyes going wide as she leaned back in satisfaction. “Have I mentioned that I love you?” she sighed, licking the whip cream from her thumb.

Bucky nodded happily. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” he laughed, turning the faucet on as he loaded the dirty dishes into the sink.

Wanda pouted, taking another bite. “Say it back.”

“I love you, Wanda,” he said almost immediately, placing a cleaned plate on the sink. “Finished with your plate?” She nodded, so he took it from her.

She moved slowly to the couch, Bucky watching to make sure she didn’t land too hard as she sat. Sighing, she gave him a look, and Bucky tried not to grin as he recognized a new and tell-tale type of hunger in her eyes.

As he shifted about the sink with his back to her, he could hear the slight woosh that meant she was levitating. “Wanda.”

“Yes?”

“You know you’re not nearly as quiet as you think, especially to me,” he stated, still not turning around as he dried a bowl. “What did we say about levitation?”

He heard her sigh, nodding as her feet touched the floor once more. “Can you hear this?” she asked, and he shifted, listening.

Nothing.

Panic bubbled in his chest. He whipped around to her standing there, holding her breath. Her eyes crinkled as she collapsed into a fit of giggles and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny. You got me,” he mused and she hugged him, her hands pressed into his back as he looped around his shoulders. “But please keep breathing, if not for my sake then for the little love.”

Her hands retracted from around his waist, instead settling on his lower abdomen. He tensed, and she raised her brows. “You’re flexing. I know you know what I want, so don’t be mean and tease me.”

He had to suppress a laugh. Leaning down, he grabbed her chin lightly, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I mean, it’s easy, sweetheart. All you want to do is eat, fuck, repeat.”

“Excuse me?” She scoffed, pulling away. “I-I could manage without you, soldier.” She was embarrassed about all her needs, and he found it adorable.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he hummed, pulling her back gently. “I don't mind, darlin’.”

“Even when I'm the size of a planet?” she quipped, and he rolled his eyes.

Dropping his hand to her stomach, he rubbed gently, gaze darkening just a little, just enough to make her focus. “Especially now.”

Her eyes grew large, and desire flooded his veins, wanting for her to invade his every thought. He picked her up easily, carrying her to their bedroom and shutting the door with a quick kick of his foot.

“Watch it,” he instructed, setting her at the foot of the bed. “You aren’t supposed to lie on your back, remember?”

She ignored him, standing to tug off the pants she was wearing. “Just strip and help me.”

He laughed, not bothering to bite it back, and he pulled at the sweatpants. “Aren't these mine?”

“Maybe,” she huffed, stepping out of them. "Mine don’t fit, you know with all your feeding and shit.”

“Language, ma’am. No cursing in front of the baby.” He smirked, tugging her panties down before tossing them to the floor. “And besides, I like it when you wear my clothes.”

“She's sleeping,” Wanda mummed, watching intently as he undressed her. “So we can be as naughty as we want.”

“That so?” He muttered, tugging his shirt over his head before gripping hers and pulling it up slowly. As he moved the fabric, he placed a light kiss between the valley of her breasts. “Side or top?”

Her pupils were blown as she looked at him, lust darkened, and he thought her mouth visibly watered as he pulled the zipper of his jeans. “Side.”

As he busied himself with his boxers, she moved to the head of the bed, laying lightly on her right side. He was right, she wasn’t really ginormous, but her labido was. Once naked, Bucky crawled to meet her, laying on his right side so he could face her. His hand gripped the edge of her knee before lightly tracing upwards, moving over her thigh, hip, and waist, moving to the center of her back. He could feel her heart racing, anticipation written over his features.

“Careful, hun,” he whispered, propping himself up on his elbow.

She didn’t get a chance to answer before his mouth covered hers. Surprised but delighted, she pressed into him as much as her stomach allowed and shifted her lips in a starving kiss. The past few weeks were hitting her like a time of fasting, and now she suddenly felt like she’d been given access to food and water again - and she was devouring him. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, gasping as he matched her favor.

He was constantly there, but sometimes she felt like he was so far away, so deep in his own head that it was harder to reach him. She just wanted to feel him, that he was alive and breathing as she scratched her nails in his scalp.

Bucky pulled her closer, pushing her shirt upwards, and his hands clawed over her spine and back, gripping at her ribcage as he bit down on her lip. He was breathing heavily, but she could tell he was restringing himself, fear of hurting the baby clouding his typical animal tendencies. Working his teeth down her neck, he found the spot just under her jaw, lightly sucking the skin. When he stopped, he spoke into her ear. “I remember the first time I fucked you like this.”

Her brain frizzed. She remembered it, too, the intensity of his eyes watching her as she entered him in a way she was unfamiliar with. She’d liked it, even if there was an emotional segment she hadn’t really understood at the time.

His hand dipped, gentle between her thighs as she took a sharp inhale, feeling him rub her in agonizingly slow movements with the lightest of pressure. Mouth falling open in the slightest, her thighs opened in welcome. She let out a quiet sound close to his ear and he pressed his face into her hair, giving himself a little more leverage as he murmured, “Wanda, I want every part of you.”

Her chest expanded shakily as she nodded, taking his face in her hands and pressing kisses to his lips. Perhaps he realized she wanted to lead the kiss because it wasn’t nearly as harsh as his initial one had been. His touches below continued to make her shiver in anticipation, pleasure creeping up the back of her spin as she pulled away.

“Okay, but…I want you, too.”

His response was simple, quick. “You’ve had me all this time.”

She could feel herself light up at the statement, his length hard against her thigh as he finally dipped his finger in. She could feel her slick against her skin, and she bit her lip to stay quiet, acutely aware that it was still later in the morning and their walls were thin; she didn’t want to give the neighbors a show.

His fingers moved at a luxisours pace, and she moved her right hand down before he could register, gripping him loosley. His mouth twisted, a grunt escaping his mouth as his eyes darkened.

“What's it feel like?” she whispered, stroking him slowly.

He shifts, trying not to buck his hips. “Inside?” He grunted, kissing her again. “Warm. So, so warm.”

Wanda was having trouble focusing, trying to keep a rhythm on him similar to the one he had one her, and when he curled his finger again, she couldn’t help the moan that broke free.

“There it is,” he murmured, breath fanning across her cheek. “Want me?”

Wanda nodded, eyes half lidded, and suddenly his fingers were gone. Dragging her even closer, both facing one another on their sides, he pushed her thigh onto his hip, slotting himself between her legs. She tightened her legs when she felt the soft intrusion, breathing shakily as he entered her.

Lifting himself slightly, her other leg under his body, Bucky began to rock. She could feel him holding back, his chest tight and arms rigid. A hand snaked into her hair, and his mouth found the shell of her ear. He began to speak firmly as he continued to thrust into her, the sound coated in immense pressure.

“You're my wife.” The statement was still a shock to her system. She might’ve blushed if her mind wasn’t so fogged with the way he was fucking her. “Say it.”

“I-I’m y-you’re--“

“C’mon, you can do it.” A pause. “I want to hear it.”

His thrust was slow, but digging deeply, just the way she craved, and Wanda leaned forward, burying her face into his shoulder. She tried to open her mouth a few times, but couldn’t find her voice, until she finally whispered, “I’m your wife.”

The orgasam was sudden. She hadn’t even registered that it was building, and she bit into his shoulder. He hadn’t responded to her claim, but the words caused him to deepen his movements, increase his speed, and it was like he was trying to fuse himself to her.

Her mind was fuzzy, blissful, but she kissed his cheek, his jaw, and murmured, “And you’re my husband…”

The hand on her hip dug into her skin, and he tensed his climax hit. He was breathing hard, hips moving raggedly as he slowed, the grip on her hip easing before her lips were taken again, and he slowly slid from her body, rolling her to her back and moving on top of her, shaky arms holding himself up as to not crush her body.

Wanda felt her legs tremble as she eased them into the mattress, and Bucky finally released her mouth, his forehead resting against hers.

Was the pregnancy making sex this intense? She hoped it never left as she breathed out slowly, lashes fluttering in exhaustion. She took a shaky inhale, and she was filled with him in every sense of the word.

Their baby would be strong, she was nearly certain, because the watered down version of the serum that she was experiencing was captivating; it was the only word that can describe it. She could smell more, feel more, taste more. It was amazing for moments like these, when she could feel everything in extreme sensitivity. She loved his scent, like a wafting of comfort that easily morphed to desire depending on her mood.

Bucky slid down beside her, dragging his knuckles up her thigh, to her hip. She was self-conscious, looking at her baby bump and his hand pulled her so that she was on her side once more.

“Was that okay?” she asked timidly, avoiding his eyes.

His finger hooked under her chin, pulling it up. His eyes were dark, squinting slightly. “Fuck yes.” His voice was husky. “Fucking perfect.”

She laughed lightly, cuddling closer. “Next time you choose the position.” He gave her a look like he’d even include himself in the propstion, and she rolled her eyes. “You choose because I'm asking.”

“I’m inclined to burn the world for you if you ask me, honey.”

She was happy at that moment, watching his old self emerging. This new, anxious version of her husband had been a hard change, but she understood; he was just protective. But she was overjoyed at his sense of relaxation.

#pregnant wanda #winter witch #married au #soft bucky barnes

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missmeinyourbones · 2 years

Note

L! congratulations on 2k! you deserve them and more! I wondered if I might be able to request Megumi and 25: “Wrap your arms around me, baby boy” for your event? 😙 please and thank you!

25. WRAP YOUR ARMS AROUND ME, BABY BOY (megumi fushiguro x reader)

for L’s lover event! based on these prompts

Always so selfless and noble, Megumi doesn’t talk about himself too often—especially about his problems or struggles.

You always do your best to remind him that you’re a team, that you want to know what bothers him, want to help him fix it in anyway that you can.

You knew he had a terrible day from the moment he’d come home. Everything about him was off—no open-armed greeting, no tender touches on your back or in your hair, no asking about one another’s days or discussing what to have for dinner.

Instead, your lover lays face-first on the sofa, where he planted himself over an hour ago and hasn't moved from since.

“Megumi,” you gently call out to him.

The only response you get is a disinterested grunt from where he lays on the couch, face pressed firmly against the cushion. You wonder how he’s even able to breathe.

You make your way to where he lays, sitting on the edge of the cushion where his legs leave little room for you to wiggle your way in. You poke the back of his calf with an invasive finger.

“Would you let me help you,” you pester him, “Please?”

Once again, Megumi mumbles something unintelligible.

You gently sigh and rub his ankle with your thumb, “Can’t hear you, Megs.”

“How,” he grumbles a bit loudly, with a little more force behind it—the first word he’s spoken since he’d dragged his feet through the doorway and slumped himself on the futon.

“How what?” you parrot back to him, a little surprised that he’s finally responding to you and your annoying efforts of aid.

He removes his head from the suffocating plush of the cushion and turns it to the side, letting his cheek now rest flat against it as his words are more clear and cohesive.

Voice tired and barren, he hisses, “How would you help me?”

When he’s met without a verbal answer, Megumi slightly sits up to glare at you, for working him up just to let him down. But no glare comes, as the sight before him confuses him just as much as it endears him.

You’re on the opposite end of the sofa, arms extended as they wait for his embrace. The goofy grin on your face doesn't falter as he raises his eyebrows at you, scoffing out something that sounds a lot like a seriously?

If anything, your smile grows, “Just trust me, please.”

And if Megumi does anything, it’s trust you wholeheartedly—so with a suspicious glance and cautious movements, he complies.

He crawls over to your open arms and makes himself at home within your embrace. He feels your hands cradle his head as his arms cling themselves around your torso, locking his hands for safe-keeping.

“C’mere,” he hears you coo in his hair. You lightly shake his body around in your hold, a weak attempt at getting him to laugh—or at least smirk—at your words.

“Use me, depend on me, wrap your arms around me, baby boy,” your voice comes out teasing, but it’s gentle, good-natured. Megumi knows this, though his heart skips a beat at the foreign pet name.

“Baby boy? That’s a new one,” he grumbles, but you feel his lips twitch upward against your skin.

You grin in victory, “What? Hate it?”

He slightly stiffens, “Didn’t say that.”

You smile against the crown of his head, and he must be able to feel it, because he allows himself to further wiggle into your neck. You feel him relax under your touch with each breath he releases, like he’s been waiting for this all day. Like he was too afraid to ask for help, for you.

While Megumi may be quiet and aloof to most, that doesn't mean he doesn't feel as much as they do. In fact, Megumi yearns more than anyone you’ve ever met. He pines and aches and craves far more than the average man, especially when it comes to you.

He just has trouble saying it, sometimes—has trouble matching his feelings with the correct sequences of words. He feels as though he’d rather suffer in silence then say the wrong thing and wish he could take it back. He was never good with regret, it tastes far too bitter sitting in his mouth and dripping down his throat.

So you're used to gently pushing, reminding him, that you’re with him by choice. Because you want to be—because you choose and will continue to choose to love him.

“Y’know you can talk to me about these things, right? That I’m always on your side?” you murmur into his hair, placing a few kisses here and there through your words. For good measure, you think to yourself. Maybe it’ll soak in faster through his skin than it will through his ears.

“Trust me, I know,” his words are soft and hushed against the fabric of your shirt, “If I ever need someone to go to, it’s always gonna be you.”

Your smile returns, twice as bright at his comment. Megumi hears you whisper a faint good, as it should be, by his ear and he sleepily grins.

He finds himself drifting off in your arms. Maybe his terrible day was worth it, if it lead to this. To you seeing right through his facade, reading his mind and knowing exactly what he needs, even if he can’t always say it.

“So...” Your voice gently ushers him from his dreamy haze, “You don’t hate ‘baby boy’ huh?”

Megumi huffs underneath the weight of your arms.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish right now.”

NOTE: hiiiiii peach u are so sweet ;-; thank u for requesting this! i was a lil scared, idk why??? it felt a bit out of my comfort zone with the ‘baby boy’ i guess??? but i combined it with something i know, which is grumpy megumi learning to express himself and his emotions <3 so it evens out lol...i hope u enjoy this MWAH

#megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic #megumi blurb #megumi fushiguro blurb #megumi drabble #megumi fushiguro drabble #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #jjk #jjk writing #jjk x reader #L's LOVER event!

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deunking · 2 years

Text

In A Long Time

You x The MoonKnight System

Rating: T

Warnings: Eating disorder not specified

A/N: You are a part of the Mk system ! Have fun!

Summary: You’re starving.

Word Count: 2,992

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

You can’t remember when it was the last time you ate.

The body is never really up for grabs; the other alters seemingly switch in and out on a specific system, which leaves you little or no time at all to front. It hasn't been that big of a deal in the past- the few times you've taken the body being because of silly things, like grocery shopping or going to the bank- but it's become rather annoying recently.

Ever since your strike with death, the outcome of it all has made the others grow. . . Quite close. Even the mysterious third one that the other two and yourself haven't seen since childhood. They talk daily, they work together, and have arguments over petty things.

They act like a family, which is excellent! What little memories you have of your family generally. . . Uh, lack sentimental value. So to experience your alters live with one another instead of amongst themselves is. . . Is cool. Really.

You wish you could be a part of it.

Which brings you back to now; you’re hungry.

It’s the middle of the night, and, from what you can tell, the rest of your party is asleep. All tucked inside their metaphorical beds— ‘metaphorical’ because the last time you dived into the headspace, you found one of them sleeping on the floor— and gone with the sun. The body is still tethered to the last alter that fronted, but with a simple nudge, you can slip in unnoticed.

The feeling of being something, someone, makes your heart twist. It’s been too long since you’ve fronted, and the body knows this. All those days, sitting back and watching through hidden reflections hits you like a truck. Loneliness sweeps through you, cold and unforgiving.

You panic, thinking the release might stir one of the others awake, and hold your breath. Ten painful seconds tick by, yet nothing happens. Not another soul shoves you out of the driver's seat. You’re left unbothered, free.

And that might hurt more than you know, but the abyss crumbling in your stomach swallows that thought up and leaves nothing else.

You’re hungry. So terribly— stupidly— hungry. Whatever foods the body last consumed fade off your tongue in seconds, trying to remind your brain that the bodies already eaten a failure as the absence of taste makes you feel sick. Though not ill with a cold but a morning sickness that comes with a reminder of the day's future events. Anxiety- you guessed- that made you repulsed by the idea of food.

Yet you were so hungry.

Throwing off the thin sheets, you stand up from the bed. A pile of sand greets your feet, yet the grains do nothing but shift beneath you.

“ What the fuck,” You say out loud to yourself.” Do these guys not clean? I could’ve sworn. . . Hm.” You weren’t exactly there for the conversation. Still, a faint argument about who was responsible for cleaning up another alter’s mess— the very ‘clever’ ring of sand around the bed- does feel very familiar. Those arguments, who’s in charge of what, sometimes make you feel grateful for the lack of inclusiveness. The body may be an athletic mess; you’re not much of a go-getter. Yes, you enjoy a morning run every once in a while, but besides that and a few push-ups, you mostly like to relax. Do your own thing.

Whether planting random things in your headspace or eavesdropping on others- your routine has never included chores of any kind. And it most likely never will.

You smile to yourself thinking about it. There’s been a handful of times- maybe once or twice- that a mess you’ve made was blamed on another innocent alter.

Precisely one time- before you or either of them were consciously aware of one another- you tracked a nasty mess of mud into the apartment. An unfortunate result of taking a shortcut through the park on a rainy day after dropping off some bills at the bank.

You didn’t even notice you’d done it before doing your second lap around the kitchen. Already munching on a pickle and your body sore from walking around the city, you casually shrugged and finished your snack. The mess was something that made you feel guilty for the poor alter that fronted a moment later, but the real kicker had to be watching them wash the pickle taste out of their mouth.

Then, the memory made you shrink in shame. Your time with the body dwindled to practically nothing. It was a type of punishment for yourself that you subconsciously never confronted. The last time you were fronting was almost a month ago— just enough time to water the wilting plant in the window- you knew there was a problem.

But you never took much time out of your day to think about it. Whenever the topic of your self-isolation reared itself in your head— you let it go. The thoughts would come and then leave just as fast.

You thought of it as a type of amnesia, the kind that sucked any thought of anxiety out of you until you couldn’t remember what it was that made you feel upset in the first place. It’s a pretty cool feature to have- thinking so much that you forget— but some side effects that you’ve come to discover haven’t been as savory.

For one, your childhood was full of those types of thoughts. A few years ago, you might’ve been able to recite every horrible thing that you could remember, but now. . . You can’t remember much of anything. Maybe a few flashes of rain followed by the thundering strike of a belt. . . and darkness.

But nothing else.

Nothing particularly happy or unique to yourself.

“ Fuck.” You shake your head. The lingering thoughts turn into fuzzy memories you’ll probably forget the next day. You massage your temple and take a deep breath, the sand an unknown calming agent as the grains sink between your toes.

Once you think you’ve sat around long enough, you’re hoisting yourself off the mattress. A slight itch tickles at your ankle, but you ignore it trying to focus on not making any more footprints in the sand—a careless mistake.

Just as you’re stepping over the sand, something pulls tight around your ankle, and you end up face first on the ground.

You grunt on your way down. The lack of time to brace for impact forces a strained breath out of your chest, making you cough and sink into the vibrating pain.

Before you can process what happened— a burst of muffled laughter forces you to freeze.

“ Qué idiota.” The Spanish accent is one you’ve heard multiple times outside of the headspace. The alter it belongs to being an annoying, sings in the shower, type that also loves to yell at the other two.

“ Eso fue muy estúpido. No puedo creerlo.” You roll your eyes at the clear amusement in his voice.

“ Jake! Shush! We’re supposed to be quiet!” Your face flushes red at the second voice, the British accent making you turn your head away from the mirror beside the bed. A pitiful attempt at trying to hide from the alters.

This wasn’t how you wanted them to find out about you.

“ ¡Qué! ¡Fue divertido! ¡Admítelo!”

“ I— Well, yeah, I guess it was. . . But still! Quiet!”

Ignoring their continuous argument— the one you weren’t supposed to be aware of- you harshly rip the ankle restraint off and throw it on the bed.

You hiss through your teeth, standing up. A sharp pain spreads around your knee before retreating into a dull throb. It’s not enough to stop you from trotting to the kitchen, but there is an evident limp to your walk. An embarrassing thing that makes you feel old as the joints in your hips pop when sitting down.

“ Fue tu idea, ¿por qué estás tan enojado?”

“ Of course, it wasn’t my idea to bloody hurt them, you dolt. And I’m not angry!”

“ Parece Que estás enfadado.”

“ But I’m not mad. Do I sound mad? Cause I’m not.”

“ sólo Alguien Que está loco diría eso.”

“ I’m not mad! You’re just pissing me off-“

“ ¿Así Que estás enfadado?”

“ No! Would you stop saying that? I’m not-“

The more the two argue, the more a sharp pain increase behind your eyes. It stings with every little shout and burns an irritation through you.

You don’t know if they could feel it— could tell that you were feeling this way- but even the most oblivious person would be able to see that you were upset. Hungry, hurt, and bitter.

“ ¡Estás muy loco! ¡Es gracioso!”

“ Stop it! This isn’t helping, and you’re just being childish!”

“ Dice el niño enojado.”

“ Don’t call me that!”

Yet, you had to guess that neither of them had the same awareness.

“Lanet olsun.” You curse.” I just wanted a quick sandwich— is that too much to ask!”

You don’t realize you’re shouting until the silence of the apartment rings in your ears. The two alters arguing was replaced by the wind rattling the windows. You’re quick to try and find traces of them hiding in the sink's reflection. Not too keen on being watched, you’re relieved to see your reflection the only thing looking back at you.

A simple thing that makes your shoulders relax and the knee pain bearable.

You huff. The hunger in your stomach pushes you to ignore a faint tug behind your eyes. “Want something to eat. . .Just a small snack.” The cabinets great you with little to nothing— a few packets of crackers, some peanut butter- but the sight makes you all the more hungry.

“ Hm. . . Ah, here we are.” You lick your lips and reach for the empty bread bag at the very back. “ Perfect.”

You throw down two slices of bread on the counter before pausing. The bag has two pieces of bread left- the two butt ends that no one wants and someone will surely throw away later- but their sight stirs your stomach. You shrug and throw the last two pieces out on the counter with the rest.

The empty bag lays forgotten in the sink while you reach for the peanut butter. You generously cover each slice of bread until the ratio is outrageously ridiculous—the white bread is now nothing but a thin slice that breaks when you squish the pieces together. You lick your fingers clean of the peanut butter— same with the knife- and put away the jar.

You don’t care to get a plate out and put both sandwiches on a paper towel on the table. You hum and lick the knife clean before putting it in the sink on your way to the fridge.

“ Please, please,” You mumble, searching the fridge.” I know they’re here; I just saw them- aha! Yes!” You pluck the jar of pickles out from behind a bottle of milk and shut the fridge. A huge grin spreads across your face after cracking open the pot on the first try, and you stumble into your seat.

“ Damn,” You lick your lips; the salty pickle smell makes your mouth water. Before you could savor the taste, one pickle disappears down your throat in a flurry of quick chomps. You bang the table and throw your head back dramatically.” Damn!” Your pink tongue licks leftover juices dripping from the corner of your mouth. The taste is enough for you to bite into another pickle- this one juicer than the last.

“ Mm. Jesus Christ. Lezzetli.” You kiss the last bite of your second pickle. Not worried about anyone seeing you this way, the food haze clouding your shame- you throw it into the air. It bonks your teeth a bit but successfully makes it into your mouth. A satisfying crunch follows its way down into your stomach.

You recline in the chair and take a deep breath. You’ve only had two pickles, but an annoying fullness is already pushing against your stomach.

Which, is reasonable. . . To some degree.

Once an acceptable amount of your hunger has been dealt with, you find out through the vanishing of your food haze- it has been many months since your last proper meal. Almost a year or so...

You tilt your head at the thought. The idea of you not eating anything for almost a year is already concerning- for many reasons- but how you were able to ignore it is one thing entirely.

Maybe you’re not as ‘educated’ as you thought about your own body. As the other alters eat enough for two human beings altogether- you thought your hunger wouldn’t be a problem. In the headspace, you don’t even have to breathe, let alone eat. And with you being in there for so long primary human nature shouldn’t be as. . . hurtful. It shouldn’t make you cry because you’re finally able to taste something.

But it does just that.

You let a few tears openly slide down your face. The cold chill a sizzle against your skin. You sniff, hesitating, before sticking your tongue out to lick up one of the drops.

“ oh no,” The taste of salt brings more tears, and you lean forwards to hide your shame in your hand.” No. No…Neden tadı böyle? Neden.. . tuzlu?” You let a sob jerk your chest while reaching for one of the forgotten sandwiches. The disgusting ratio of bread and peanut butter helps shock your taste buds into forgetting about the tears. You push the food around in your mouth until it’s soft enough to swallow, but even then, a sob keeps it from going down.

You let the sand which falls from your hands. The creamy peanut butter taste feels like gooey slime, coating your mouth and throat in a thickness that hurts. Your tongue pushes against bits of bread to try and soak all the peanut butter up, but all that does is make a giant mouthful of muck.

A sticky, peanut and bread crumby mess.

Your shoulders shake— the sobs growing more and more as unwanted thoughts try and force the bite down.

Yet, you won’t swallow. An unwillingness feeds you to savor the taste for as long as possible. The thought of betrayal- being shoved back into the headspace- raging a storm in you that makes your stomach hurt.

They know you’re here. They know you’re here— they know.

They’re going to throw you away. They’re going to starve you; you will never eat again. You will never be free. You will never be one of them.

You will-

“ Hey.”

Startled, You choke down the mess in your mouth. It goes down without much fight, but the aftertaste leaves you craving a nice sip of water.

“ The sink.” You’re not one to take orders from others- especially people from Chicago- but the soft command nudges you towards the sink without argument. As if someone was guiding you by the shoulders, rubbing slow circles into your arms.

You don’t realize it is- in fact- your arms until they move on their own to make you a cup of water.

Your hands- no- your alter hands bring the cup to your face. Through tears, you stare at the rippling reflection on the surface of the water, visibly not your own, as the eyebrows twist in a way you know yours aren’t.

Angry. . . But you have a feeling it’s not directed at you.

“ Drink. Small sips.” The Chicago accent comes alive to cup your jaw. You lean back and let your hands tip a bit of water in your mouth. They hesitate as you swallow before allowing you two more generous sips.

“ Ok. Feel better?”

Still, it is spaced out, your throat recovering from the sticky peanut butter, and you nod.

“ Good. That’s good. Can I. . .?”

A gentle prod phases you out of the front for just a second. But it’s enough for you to sober up and shove back into place. Your heart is racing twice as fast now, trying to keep the alter put.

“ Don’t-“ You shrink back at your shout.” Don’t, do that. . . Please.”

You feel a pair of eyes on you and turn. The same eyes you saw in the cup stare up at you in the faucet reflection. It’s a bit hard to tell- your poor eyesight making you squint- but when the reflection moves up into the mirror a few inches away from the sink, everything becomes clear.

“ Marc,” You breathe, the familiar eyebrow slit a sign as to which alter you were dealing with.” How. . . How are you?”

Marc- clearly uncomfortable- folds his arms.

“ Could be better,” He looks down at the floor and then backs up to you.” Who are you? How long have you been here?”

You couldn’t answer that question. Technically, you’ve been here as long as the other two- Jake and Steven- but the lack of good memories skews that.

You decide to bullshit it.” Don’t know. A— a while. As long as Jake or Steven, probably”.

Marc raises a brow.” Probably? Why’s that?”

“ Um,” You look away.” I don’t— I can’t remember. My, my memories are. . . I can’t remember a lot.”

You lick your lips with a sigh. Looking back at Marc, your shoulders hunch over your chest.” I’m sorry for all this… I was just-“

“ Are you ok?” Your lips tremble. The soft look in Marc’s eyes is like a punch to the chest, the pity making you feel all the more shitty. “ Do you, do you need something?” Marc eyes the forgotten food on the table. A pit of shame opens in your stomach.

“ No, no. . . I’m good,” You give a quick smile, your head bowed.” I’m just going to— need to sleep. I’ll; I won’t bother you again. I’m sorry. Sorry.”

You catch Marc’s eyes widen.” Wait, no-“

But it’s too late. You fade back into the headspace, a lingering taste of peanut butter replaced by the tasteless wetness of your tears.

#moon knight fanfic #moonknight #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight x you #marc spector #mcu fanfiction #marc spector x reader #kinda sad #yeah </3

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

“Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast.

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula.

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money).

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess.

“Kissy?”

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed.

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal.

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs.

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest.

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it.

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly.

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly.

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little.

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy? I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder.

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now.

“Baby, m’so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

—

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room.

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters.

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor.

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out.

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws.

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier.

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you.

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern.

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together.

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency.

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark.

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years.

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations.

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?”

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist.

—

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iwadori · 3 years

Note

Hiiii!!!! can you do like when you guys are supposed to meet up and they waited for about an hour or so and kept texting you you but you haven't replied so they thought you ditched them and got mad at you and stuff then they decided to go home and while on their way home not too far from their school they found you unconscious body with a large wound on you back and your head bleeding?.

can you pleaseease do tsukishima, yamaguchi, ushijima, bokuto (I'm sorry if that's a lot)

Haikyu Boys when you get hurt Pt 2 (Ushijima,Bokuto

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 2.6K

Genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Ushijima

You were having the worst week this week, from battling a cold and your boss making you do all sorts of extra jobs (that were definitely not under your job description.) As easter was swiftly approaching you and Ushijima had your annual plans of going to the local kids community center and helping them with an easter egg hunt. But you don’t think you can manage it this year.

Ushijima gets home from practice with 4 bags just filled with easter eggs ranging from all different sizes, “woah there Toshi, you’ve got enough there too feed all of england” you laugh

“I don’t think these eggs will be able to sustain England Y/N” he says seriously making you laugh even harder. As you were laughing, you felt another migraine come along making your cringe in pain. “Toshi, I don’t think I can do the easter egg hunt this year?”

He sits down next to you alarmed that something is wrong, “why what happened Y/N” he asks

“I’ve been feeling terrible all week, and I even have a migraine right now” you say to him thinking he would understand.

“That’s it?” he questions thinking what you said was a joke “I think you can handle a migraine, remember we’re doing this for the kids”

His words were making you feel slightly guilty since maybe you were being over dramatic. “Y/N if it’s really ‘that bad’, i’ll make you some tea so you can feel better,” he says going into the kitchen to start on your tea. You murmur a quiet “thank you” and you end up falling asleep, hoping that by the time you wake up your head stops pounding.

As you wake up, you realise you slept all the way through the night and over to the next day as when you look at your clock it says 12:32 pm. You look at your nightstand and saw that Ushijima wrote you a note saying:

Y/N I've left out early to set out the easter egg hunt, I’ve made you breakfast so eat up and get prepared for the event which starts at 4pm. Please don’t forget.

Sincerely – Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You chuckle at the fondness of the note, before realising your pain. Your brain felt like it was having a live concert inside that definitely was not going to end soon but you still got up prepared for the day. You didn’t want to let Ushijima or the kids down.

When you go to the kitchen , you see the cute breakfast that Ushijima made you consisting of all of your favourite foods and with another simple note of him saying ‘ I love you. ‘ Ushijima has always been a lovely boyfriend, treating you like the queen you are always making sure that you were okay. Of course, his bluntness and his lack of social cues was something to get used to but when you did get accustomed to it, it only made you fall in love with him more.

You got ready, feeling even more sick as the piping hot shower that you usual have, did not help as when you were showering you felt heavily faint. However, you persevered since you did not want to let Ushijima down.

You finally were prepared to leave the house, with the community center being on 15 minutes walk away you were leaving out at 3:50pm since you were planning to take your car anyways. When you leave your home, you realise that you forgot your car keys so you dash up the stairs (a bit too quickly) to go and find them. Scrambling through your draws, your head is pounding harder and harder and the more it pounds the quicker your moving making you even more faint. You eventually find your keys and you’re ready to zoom to the community center but your body gave out and you pass out tumbling down the stairs landing at your front door.

Ushijima was waiting outside of the community center waiting for you to arrive it was 4:05pm and he was wondering where you were (knowing that your place was only a 10 minute drive away) he sent you a few texts asking where you were but when you don’t respond Ushijima becomes slightly annoyed, plastering a fake smile on his face and entering the community center, starting the easter egg hunt.

The easter egg hunt came to a close at 8pm and Ushijima assumed that you would’ve showed up some time in the middle of the event, but you obviously didn’t show. After making sure that all the kids left safely Ushijima decided to call and text you more and when you continuously don’t respond and your calls go to voicemail he says ‘Y/N, im really disappointed with you right now. How could you do this to me? You said you would show up, the kids were really upset, how could you be so selfish?’

He walks to your house knocking on the door, but when you don’t immediately answer he knew something must be up now, since you haven’t responded to any of his texts and calls and didn’t show up he figured there was something deeper then you just ditching the event.

He used his key to open the door, surprised when the door hit something. He tried again hitting the ‘object’ that was laying at the door again. He carefully pushes the door to make enough room for him to fit through the gap. When he entered, he was startled at the sight of you, there you lay completely knocked out with a blood stain next to your head. He knelt down next to you and touched your cheek you were extremely cold, he had to get you to a hospital stat. He called an ambulance, panicked. Worrying about how long you’ve been out for since it would have to be atleast more than 4 hours he assumed.

You woke up in a foreign room, with your head slightly stinging. You place your hand on the back of your head and wince, then you remember you need to be at the easter egg hunt so you bolt up ready to move.

“I don’t think that’s wise for you to do that Y/N” Ushijima says to you

“Toshi, what happened?” you ask still in pain

“It seems you fell down the stairs and hit your head” after he said that all your memories come flooding back, and you remember rushing to the community centre, looking for your keys, and then falling down the stairs and everything going black.

“I’m sorry Ushi for missing the easter egg hunt, I really tried to get there,” you say with an apologetic look on your face

“It’s fine Y/N of course you wouldn’t of been able to get there after falling down the stairs” he says “Also, this is proof of why you shouldn’t run down the stairs”

You eventually get discharged with the doctor telling you all you need to do is rest and stay off your feet. Ushijima took the doctor's orders very seriously, becoming your loyal servant and waiting on you hand and foot, tending to your every need. He did also make you were eating healthy and taking all your medicine so you could have the best recovery possible.

Also, after realising that this could’ve all been avoided if Ushijima didn’t guilt trip you in the first place for having a migraine, he made sure to never ignore or dismiss when you say you are ill or have anything wrong with you even if it’s a migraine, a lost limb or a simple paper cut.

Bokuto

The Olympics were coming up and Bokuto couldn’t be any more excited than he already was. Everything he’s talked about for the past month he manages to find a way to relate to the Olympics, and as annoying as it got sometimes you were just as excited for it as much as Bokuto was.

Bokuto was heavily busy with extra practices so you were bored and lonely, since your boyfriend was at practice all the time so you chose to take up a new hobby. You decided to paint, although you weren’t an award-winning painter you still found joy in it. Being Bokuto’s girlfriend you had some slight unwanted attention on you: the usual fans of Bokuto that just followed you to have an extra aspect of him in their life's, or his fangirls that adored him.

You didn’t mind the fangirls for the most part since majority of them were pretty tamed and did fawn over your relationship. However, there was the minority of fans that did make it known to you that they DID NOT like you at all. When you started posting your paintings, it seems their hate for you amplified since they always found the need to leave an astray of mean comments on your post. But that didn’t mainly bother you since you thought that they only had that energy behind the screen.

The days went by getting closer to the Olympics, with Bokuto always asking you every day “Y/N you are coming to my games, right?” to which you always replied “Of course Kou, I’m coming” which always made him smile.

When the Olympics came, you’ve went to all the games cheering Bokuto and the team on as they were winning round after round. Whilst this was going on, the group of girls that were sending you horrible messages and making mean posts about you weren’t stopping. At first, you didn’t care for them but it seems their posts only gotten worse making comments about your artwork, your face, your body type ect.

You didn’t want to tell Bokuto as you felt that it would ruin his Olympic momentum and you thought you could handle it all on your own.

It was nearing to the final game of the Olympics, and Bokuto was ecstatic he made sure that you promised you’d be there claiming that you was his ‘good luck’ charm.’ You were excited to go too, the feeling of watching Bokuto play was exhilarating seeing him fully in his element was great for you to see.

On the last game day, Boktuo was already at the stadium since him and the team had to be there earlier to practice and you planned to meet him there just before the game started at 4:30. You went to a florist before the match getting Bokuto the biggest boquet that you could buy.

On your way to the stadium you here somebody whistle from behind you, you turn around and see a group of girls waiting behind you smirking. “Hi?” you say more like a question then a statement “do you want something from me?”

Some of them laugh, but the one standing at the front who you mentally lable the ‘main one’ steps closer to you and says “We want you to stay away from Bokuto” you realise that these were the girls sending you hate online for these past weeks.

Before you can even blink, the girls jump you, hitting, kicking and clawing at you. You are in pain, screaming and crying for them to stop and leave you alone. You lay there, letting them beat you up thinking that you’ll probably end up dead out of this. All you can think about is Bokuto, you didn’t get to wish him good luck, or give him your flowers (that you spent a fortune on) or even tell him that you loved him one last time.

You think the girls eventually stopped but you couldn’t tell because your body was throbbing and you hurt all over. You tried to get up still wanting to go to the match but you collapse going out cold.

Bokuto was scanning the crowd over and over for you, hoping to spot you there. But he couldn’t, he was wondering where you were getting sadder and sadder by the second since he really believed you were his good luck charm and he probably wouldn’t be able to win without at least seeing your face once.

They didn’t win. Bokuto knew he wasn’t playing at his best, since all his mind was on was thinking about where you were. You’ve never missed one of his games, so he was incredibly worried. After he accepted his second-place medal, he rushed out the stadium to go to your house but he was stopped by some fangirls ‘I guess signing autographs is the least I can do’ he thinks, the fans were being a bit odd today but he didn’t have time to focus on that as his mind was racing thinking about you and your whereabouts.

One of his fans did give him an alarmingly big boquet of roses which he appreciated ‘these must of cost a fortune’ he thinks. Although it was a probably a long shot, he decided to ask the fan if he saw someone who looked like *whatever you look like* to maybe see if someone else saw you. Which the fan replied “yeah I saw them with some guy at this restaurant whilst we were going to see you!” they exclaimed.

‘A guy’ he thought ‘that most likely wasn’t you.’ Seeing Bokuto’s confusion, the fan followed up with “I'm pretty sure it was her I mean we all know who Bokuto Koutaro’s girlfriend was.” Bokuto didn’t reply just walking away making sure to thank them for the flowers.

He was rushing towards your house on foot (since all the taxi’s and ubers were fully booked because of the Olympics) whilst running he stumbles across your passed out body all black and bruised with scratch marks and bleeding all over you. “what happened” he whispered, knowing you obviously weren’t going to respond.

He picked up your near-dead body, and cradled you in his arms taking you back to the stadium (since he knew that getting an ambulance to come here or running to the hospital would basically be impossible.) When he got back to the stadium, he did get odd looks from strangers but he didn’t care, his only agenda was making sure you were okay.

You woke up, and saw Bokuto pacing the room repeatedly you tried to get his attention by saying his name but your throat was damaged. He eventually notices you and runs to your side, stroking your face softly and giving you a gentle hug making sure not to hurt you.

“Who did this Y/N?” he asks with worry in his eyes

You ignore his question and look at the silver medal wrapped around his neck making you sad “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the match, I tried I really did try” you said with your voice sounding even worse after you said every word.

“Don’t be silly, I’m just glad that you’re okay babe, I was really worried about you.” he said

The Medic came in and said that you had multiple broken ribs, but beside that you were fine you just needed to rest your throat and let your bruises heal. You eventually told Bokuto that it was some of his fans, he was upset that you hid this from him for so long but he was just glad that he got to you as soon as he did. He managed to play at the next Olympics and you were there fully present, with your even bigger boquet of flowers watching win gold.

Authors Note: I tried to make it as close to your request as possible, but I hope you enjoy as I really do think this is my favourite work so far.... :3 Comments and feedback appreciated.

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu scenarios #haikyu #haikyu angst #haikyu fluff #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu-fluff #haikyu x reader #ushijima imagine #ushijima oneshot #ushijima angst #ushijima x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto angst #koutarou x reader #bokuto scenarios #signedwithane😌

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todoscript · 3 years

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SEQUEL TO “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #bnha fic

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elysianslove · 4 years

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euphoria ; itadori yuuji

synopsis; a serene beach date, followed by intimacy at home

pairing; itadori yuuji x fem!reader

genre; fluff, smut

warnings; smut! unprotected sex, which i do not condone this is fanfiction people. curses i guess? yuuji being cute as fuck <3

note; all characters are 18+ . please don’t read the smut if you’re a minor. there’ll be a page break separating the fluff from the smut! this shit is like over 4k words rip im sorry if there are mistakes

━━ it's not the first time he's seen you in a swimsuit. it's not even a bikini this time, and he's seen you in much more revealing clothing. you've laid bare next to him as the sun seeped through the curtains and woke the two of you up, and taken countless showers with him, soaked in the water inside a bathtub, his revealed chest to your naked back. and yet, yuuji gawks at you like it is the first time.

you only huff out a laugh as you slip the cover up off your shoulders, kneeling down to roughly fold it in your bag. his gaze is piercing, but you like the lingering presence of it. he whistles as you stand to your full height again, before eagerly removing shirt with a grin, reaching for the neck hemline and pulling it off. "so hot," he tells you, earning an eye roll from you. you're not given much warning before his strong arms are wrapping around your waist, picking you up off of the sand.

"yuuji, put me down!" you exclaim, but he only lifts you up higher, tossing you up on his shoulder.

he grips your waist with one arm, the other reaching up to grasp at your thighs as soon as you see the waves of the beach dance over to where your boyfriend stands. he continues inward, the water rising up to his waist, before he whispers out a measly apology, something like, "sorry, babe," before he's throwing you off his shoulder into the salty water.

a scream ripples out of your throat as you flail around, but there's no stopping it. you hit the water suddenly, initially freezing cold, before you move your limbs frantically to push your head out of the water. scowling at your boyfriend, who's cackling as if he were a wizard that's defeated his lifelong enemy, you push your hair out of your face. "what was that for!" you ask, swimming over to where he is.

he sinks below the water before you, his chin hovering over the water as he laughs. "it was out of love," he argues. "i wish i'd recorded it; your scream was hilarious."

instead of wallowing, you paint a mischievous grin on your lips as you plant your feet onto the sand beneath you, and leap up, aiming to dunk your boyfriend's head beneath the water. he's trained though, maybe not exactly for situations like this, but his reflexes are as sharp as ever. he catches your wrists easily, shifting his grasp of them in one hand, before using the other to grab your waist and push you beneath the water again. your eyes sting at the intrusion of salt water, throat burning, but the only true, lingering thought on your mind is just how easy it was for him to deflect you like that. you're terribly aware of yuuji's athleticism and strength, and yet it always manages to catch you off guard.

"no fair, yuuji," you say, pouting up at him as you blink away the residue of salt in your eyes. "that's twice in a row!"

yuuji only laughs again, reaching out for you beneath the water. his hands settle on your waist, but it's a soothing touch this time. no mischievousness behind them, only safety and security. he urges you closer to him until you rest your forearms on his shoulders, and then he leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose. "i promise no more slam dunking in the water," he tells you, lowering his lips to finally meet yours. you kiss him gently, enjoying the taste of salt that linger on your tongue when he opens his mouth for you. maybe it's a little lewd of you, openly making out with your boyfriend in a public beach's waters, but who can blame you really? he's breathtaking.

and you don't hesitate to him so. "you're mesmerizing, yuuji," you confess, lifting a hand to brush through his damp hair. some strands are sticking to his forehead, the pink of them more evident underneath the sunlight. you think that maybe he's left you this way, so mindlessly in love with him, because of the kiss. but really, you always feel this way for him. even if subconsciously.

"maybe i should slam dunk you more often," he teases you, but ultimately, he leans in for another kiss. "i think you're pretty neat."

"pretty neat, hm?" you wonder.

he hums. "yeah. the coolest girlfriend i could ask for, maybe," he continues. "prettiest, too." you humor him, and nod diligently. "by a long run, baby."

you press one last kiss on his lips, a quick peck, before pushing yourself out of his arms' hold, laying back atop the water. "help me float," you ask him, and then you feel his hands settle flat on your back, leaving a trail of heat along your spine. he's clueless of his effects as his face hovers over yours, shielding you from the sun, and you're insistent on keeping it that way, offering him a small smile.

he helps you dance above the waves for a few minutes, occasionally asking you random questions that you, honest to god, weren't sure if anyone had the answers to. and then, inevitably, he pouts down at you, complaining in a low voice, "m'hungry, babe."

thankfully, you'd prepared in advance for this date. rushing out of the water, with yuuji's hand in yours, you race across the sand to where your belongings were, an umbrella propped up for shade. you shiver as a breeze travels past you, painting goosebumps along your skin while your boyfriend urges you to move faster. as soon as you're there, he picks up your towel first, quickly wrapping it around your trembling frame and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, attempting to warm you up.

"all good?" he wonders, and you nod, even if you're still freezing, because he's still yet to dry himself off. finally, the two of you settle on the ground, a cloth beneath you acting as barrier to the sand, and you pull out the snacks you'd packed from your bag. all of his favorites. "you really are the best," he tells you, moaning as he takes a bite into his food. you offer him a sincere smile, shuffling nearer to him for both his body heat and to rest your head on his shoulder while you eat.

there really is no telling how time will pass when you’re with him. sometimes it’s slow, languid, the universe taking its time to stretch out the moments between you two, allowing you to lose yourself within every little thing. every kiss felt like a hundred, every embrace lasted years, every glance left a lingering tingle at the bottom of your spine. other times it’s quick, breathtakingly fast, but you still feel everything as strongly as you would on the opposing days. your heart just beats a little faster, racing to catch up with the way time speeds around you. his touch is fleeting, but the effect he has on you is always eternal. today, the earth seems to slow down with you, to accommodate with your need and desire to feel every moment to the fullest. it sympathizes with you, makes sure you catch even the tiniest of movements from yuuji, like the way his eyes blink rapidly to rid himself of the intruding salt dripping from his hair, or the way he’s moving closer to you to rest his head above yours.

god, you’re such a sap.

there’s another breeze that flies by, and you shiver again, instinctively pushing yourself closer to him. yuuji takes note, lifting his arm to wrap it around you, encasing you in his warmth.

“if you could be any animal, what would you be?” he asks you. it’s not sudden, the type of question, but his voice so near you is.

you only shiver again as you shrug. “i don’t know. never really gave it much thought,” you admit. “maybe a seal or something. they seem to be doing great.”

“a seal?” he wonders, then cranes his neck to look down at you with an approving grin. “nice one, babe.”

you snort, pushing your head into the crook of his neck, sighing against his collarbones. “what about you?”

his grip tightens around you as he rubs his hand up and down your arm soothingly. then, he replies, “maybe an eagle.”

“because it symbolizes freedom?” you ask.

yuuji shrugs softly. “maybe. or just because i’d like to fly. i’d carry you on my back and take you wherever you want,” he fantasizes.

“baby,” you start, sitting up straight to face him. “that’s what planes are for.”

the look on his face emits loud laughter from you, but he pinches the skin of your upper arm with a playful scowl, scoffing, “yeah but planes aren’t free, are they?” you hum, falling back into his embrace. he easily places his arms back around you, fitting you against him perfectly, before he speaks again. “where would you want to go?” he asks.

you sigh, “anywhere with you.”

he freezes for a moment, before he lets out a giggle. “you sap! god, you’re so in love with me.”

you can’t find it within yourself to tease him because, yes, you really are so in love with him. and you had meant it. his laughter fades out into happy sighs, and then he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “i’m so in love with you too.”

maybe you should’ve anticipated that this is where you’d be the moment you arrived back home with yuuji. it’s not that you minded; if anything, this is probably your fault more than his. it was evident in the way even the smallest of his touches, specifically today, lit a familiar fire in the pit of your stomach. inevitably, you figured, you would have found yourself in his lap anyways, knees perched on either side of him, legs spread and a flush traveling from your cheeks down to your chest.

you’d gone home with him with tired eyes and a glow to your skin. showering together hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, either. it was simple, intimate, also hilarious when a wad of shampoo had fallen into one of yuuji’s eyes, prompting screams from him you never thought you’d hear. it’s after the shower that trouble started.

he had lazily leaned against the bed, only a towel wrapped his waist, his head tossed back against the wall. the tired sigh that left his lips mesmerized you, but you knew your thoughts were to remain as that, simple imaginations, because there’s no way either of you have a speck of energy for anything. you’re proven wrong when your boyfriend beckons you over onto the bed, not giving you much chance to even slip off your robe and into something slightly more comfortable. instead of allowing you to sit next to him, he’d lead you over onto his lap, propping you up, before capturing your lips in a lazy kiss.

you’d returned it, of course, because nothing feels better than kissing yuuji. nothing feels better than kissing yuuji with your hands on his neck, on his sturdy chest, down to strong stomach. the kiss turns feverish quickly, his grip on your covered waist tightening considerably before they travel down to your hips. he lifts himself up to sit more upright, guiding you closer to him, closer to where he wants you to be, before pushing you down harder onto him. against his mouth, you moan instinctively, hands traveling to tug lightly at his hair. a breathless gasp escapes his lips when you finally start grinding your lower body against his, his hands enforcing a bruising grip on your hips. you’re still covered, and so is he, but it isn’t long before the adrenaline truly takes over, and yuuji’s lifting his hips up to rid himself of the towel.

you’re about to follow suit, but even beneath you, he takes charge, untying the robe and slipping it off your shoulders hastily. neither of you dares to break the kiss as you’re finally completely bare before each other, and yuuji reaches forward to wrap his arms around your waist, pushing your chest flush against his. the action elicits a moan from the both of you, and you feel your nipples hardening as they brush against the muscle of yuuji’s chest. tiredness is long forgotten as your hips begin to grind aimlessly along his lap, and, in response, yuuji unfastens his left arm from around you, using the right one to steady you on top of him, as he brings one hand down between your legs.

his fingers brush against your folds, and he groans loudly at the first feel of you. he pulls back, breathlessly, to look into your eyes, noticing how hazy they’ve become, your pupils fully blown. then, he says, “wanna make you cum on my fingers, yeah?” a whine tumbles out from your lips and you nod frantically, giving him your answer to his indirect ask for consent. he collects some of your wetness on his fingers, before slowly slipping in his middle finger. although your mind had expected it, the intrusion is sudden to your body, and you lift yourself up reflexively. yuuji’s stronger than you though, and the grip of his right arm doesn’t falter as he sinks his finger deeper into you. he watches you through half lidded eyes as you throw your head back, welcoming easily the feeling that’s slowly beginning to overtake you.

he pulls out his finger to the first knuckle before pushing it back in, repeatedly, until he hears a breathless, “more,” fall from your lips. your wish is his command, and when he pulls his finger out, a second joins, filling you up even before. it’s incredible how easily you’re falling apart right before him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, your chest heaving as his fingers speed up their ministrations. he leans forward, clasping his mouth around one of your nipples, earning an even louder moan from you. your chest rises against his mouth, and his teeth clamp down lightly, pulling at your nipple, abusing it, as his fingers continue to drill in and out of you. his thumb reaches up to rub lightly against your clit, strengthening the fire filling your veins.

you’re making a mess of him, you’re sure, and you have half a mind to finally open your eyes and glance down at him. he’s fixated on you and your pleasure, mouth eager on your chest, arm flexing as he pushes two of his fingers in and out relentlessly. “m’gonna cum,” you whine helplessly, trembling in his grasp. he hums against your chest, letting your nipple fall from between his lips as his tongue dances along the perks. “yuuji, i’m gonna cum!”

he laughs, looking back up at you when you throw your head back, uselessly attempting to rock your hips in time to meet the thrust of his fingers. teasingly, he retorts, “nothing’s stopping you, darling.”

you’re already shaking in his grip, gradually losing more control of your body’s reactions. then, his eyes meets yours as he looks up, the same time his fingers are curling inside you and his teeth reach out to tug at your nipple —

you scream when you cum, sobbing helplessly as his fingers work you through your orgasm. your thighs involuntarily flex and you lean forward, unable to hold yourself up. his mouth leaves your nipple to allow him the pleasure of watching you properly. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant in a whisper, head falling onto his shoulder. his fingers don’t stop however, and you have to reach in between you to grip at his wrist in a silent plea.

yuuji laughs again, finally slowing down his hand’s movements until he eventually pulls his fingers out. “feel good baby?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as he feels your breathing slowly steady itself. you’re still slightly trembling atop him, but you know that you’re not even close to finished for the night.

you hum in response, nodding against him. lifting yourself up, yuuji beams up at your state, skin flushed and hair damp — he’s not sure if it’s the sweat or the shower from earlier, but either way, you look too gorgeous for your own good. unexpectedly, he feels you lift up his hand, gripping at his palm, before your mouth falls open, tongue slipping out, and you place his sticky fingers onto the muscle. his breathing halts when you wrap your lips around the digits, and he silently curses when he feels you suck lightly, tongue dancing over, around and in between his fingers.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he admits to you, and you hum again around his fingers diligently. “come on,” he urges you, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and placing both hands on your waist. “can’t let you have all the fun.”

you giggle, nodding in agreement as you place your hands atop his. “want me to be on top?” you suggest.

“yeah, if you want me dead,” he jokes, before easily flipping the two of you over. you can’t help the squeal that cuts from your lips, but he swallows it easily with his mouth on yours, replacing it with a throaty moan. you can feel his dick hard against your thigh, leaking precum, smudged along your skin. he lifts himself up further along your body, pressing down against you until his heavy cock is trapped between your lower abdomens.

“yuuji, come on,” you whine up at him. your hand slides down to between you two, gripping the head of his cock, thumbing the slit. his figure falters above you, his arms trembling slightly at the feel of your hand around him.

his hand comes down to yours, swatting it off, before shifting down slightly to line himself up at your entrance. with his other hand, he spreads your legs further apart, hooking one onto his arm. once he’s satisfied, he settles the tip of his cock near your dripping sex, reveling in the noises that are spewing out of you — countless moans and breathless chants of please, please, please. he loves you always, but especially like this, all spread out for him, the heat of you nearly sucking him in as he teases your pussy.

“you look so pretty like this, baby,” he voices. you whine again as he rubs the head of his dick against your clit, throwing your head back and reaching out to grip his arm.

“please, yuuji,” you beg, and maybe if he had an ounce of self control within him at this rate he’d drag this out a little more. he’d tease you endlessly, till the sun came up again. but there’s a hunger within him that’s pleading and begging to be sated, so against all odds, with his fist wrapped around the base of his cock, he slowly enters you.

you muffle a cry at the feel of your walls stretching around him to accommodate him, and he can physically feeling you spasming around him already. he groans as he continues to sink in, his hand reaching out to fist the pillow by your head. your breath is heavy, labored, when he finally bottoms out. you feel so warm around him, it’s dizzying. “fucking tight,” he groans, his jaw tight.

he steadies himself, waiting for you to relax slightly. he doubts he’d be able to move even a little with how tight you felt around him, but slowly, surely, he feels you lift your hips slightly. “more, yuuji,” you mumble, eyes cloudy. he lifts his hand from near your head, gripping your hip instead, and with your leg lifted up on his shoulder, he pulls out, before slamming back in. your back arches as a loud moan rips from your throat, mindlessly cursing, “fuck!” he does it again, encouraged by the noises you’re making and the way your body’s reacting to him. you’re so fucking wet, dripping down onto the bed beneath the two of you, but he can’t even begin to think of anything but the fact that he’s reducing you to this state.

he continues to thrust diligently into you, his hips snapping against yours repeatedly. with the angle he’s fucking you, he continuously hits a specific spot within you, leaving your head cloudy and your spine tingling. he’s splitting you open in half at this point, but all you can do is lay there, muscles tight and exhausted, skin slick with sweat and chest flushed, rising and falling rapidly. your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you’re convinced he’s fucking you stupid as your eyes roll back, your back arching off the bed.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praises you. “so good, pretty.” his voice is breathless, deeper too, and you look up at him for a split second. his eyes are trained down to where your bodies are connected, watching as you take him so well, his gaze never wavering.

when he leans forward, dropping your leg to wrap it around his waist instead, you know he’s getting close. his cock twitches inside of you, his hands coming to rest by your waist on the bed. his fingers, suddenly, come to work at your clit, rubbing at the bundle of nerves harshly. “it’s too much! too good!” you wail, and he drinks it at all, his fingers growing slick again with your wetness.

“i wanna feel you cum all over me,” he tells you, thrusts somehow deeper. you let out a broken sob, your nails digging into his shoulders as he works you over to the edge. he’s given no warning other than the relentless squeezing of your pussy around him and your repeated cries of “cumming, cumming, cumming!” before you’re trembling beneath him, struggling to catch your breath as your hips lift up off the bed. the orgasm continues to rock through as yuuji’s thrusts grow sloppier.

“where do you want me?” he shakily asks. despite the overstimulation and the over sensitivity, you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. he rests his head in the crook of your neck, his quiet moans music to your ears so close to you. “darling,” he groans, gripping your waist as he uses your body to bring himself closer to his high.

“inside, yuuji,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his temple. “please, please, plea—“ a gasp tumbles out as he suddenly stills, your words sending him over the edge. his muscles flex, slightly trembling within your arms, his small pants spreading heat along your skin.

slowly, he fucks into you, riding out his high, pressing chaste kisses along your neck and throat. “love you so much,” he mumbles, finally stilling.

you feel sticky, sweaty, and not at all clean in comparison to when you’d just stepped out of the shower. but you also feel blissful, euphoric, hazy and completely satisfied. yuuji lifts his head up finally, lifting himself up slightly to pull out of you. his cum trickles out slowly, but he pays it no mind as he flops half of his body atop yours, and you let out a pained laugh.

“yuuji!” you whine. “you’re heavy.” he only hums tiredly, his arm slung along your middle, his cheek against your shoulder. you bring a hand up, the one he isn’t immobilizing, to brush away his hair. his eyes are barely kept open, but he still manages to smile dreamily at you. your fingers ghost over his features, admiring them, tracing his soft skin, unknowingly lulling him to sleep. “okay, king of aftercare,” you joke, and he huffs out a laugh.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “aftercare tomorrow.”

you nod, beaming brightly, and leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. his chest begins rising and falling slowly, telling you he’s already asleep, but when you mumble out, “i love you so much, too,” and press a kiss to his cheek, you swear he smiles.

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