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covenofthearticulate · 6 months

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short & fluffy drabble request: lestat and armand cheer louis up from one of his morose moods by having a cozy night in and doing exactly what louis wants to do ❤️

I swear this started off more sweet and less silly but honestly the more I write Louis Grumpy Pants de Pointe du Lac, the less I'm able to take him seriously. Sometimes it's less about what Louis wants and more about what he needs.

"We cannot go to both," Armand follows Lestat around the room like a little duckling, quacking incessantly as he ruffs Lestat’s feathers.

"Sure we can," Lestat refuses to meet Armand's eyes even as he peers into the vanity mirror. He pops his collar, sliding a sleek black bow tie around the crisp white linen. "We all know how La Traviata ends. And, truthfully, it doesn't matter what time you pop into any of Beckett's plays— they're all nonsense, anyway. Delightful nonsense! We'll leave the opera and head over to the theater at the intermission."

"What an imbecilic idea," Armand scoffs. "The only way to ensure we enjoy neither performance."

"Give the opera tickets to Sybelle, then! It runs another week, we'll see it some other time. It’s opening night at the playhouse, and you know they need support this season, anyway— we can sneak into the donor lounge with that cute usher if you get bored."

"I don't get bored," Armand retorts with a slight pout in his features. "And we cannot go to the opera another night— Louis and I leave tomorrow!"

"Let Louis pick then!" Lestat throws up his hands, kicks impatiently at the leg of the nearby dresser as he spins to face the bed in the centre of the room, all riled and gnashing and wide-eyed on account of Armand's needling. “Come now, Louis, what will it be? Community theatre or opera? Your idiot lover double booked us.”

“I’m not your secretary, Lestat.”

“And thank god for that!” Lestat smiles a wolfish smile, hooks one arm around Armand’s waist and tugs him close. “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to getting you behind my desk. What do you think, Louis?”

They will always look to Louis in moments like this— Louis the tie-breaker, Louis the voice of reason amongst the bickering and squabbling...Louis, who is currently swaddled in bed, sheets up to his chin, playing scrabble on his phone held only inches away from his face.

"...I'm not going,” he mumbles, and immediately the tempest of hot air seems to deflate, and the room feels unnervingly still.

There is no other explanation needed after that; the sight of Louis alone is enough to strike away the prickly exteriors and paw at the tender, sensitive core in both of his lovers. These moods are more of a rare spell and less of an overall temperament these days, but when they come along, they come on strong and leave him feeling sour and hopeless and utterly resentful towards just about anything. He doesn’t dare look away from his phone, though he can feel both sets of eyes on him, and it only makes him want to burrow further beneath the covers and cocoon himself in the warm safety of their bed until the world feels a little less daunting.

A silent breath passes through the three of them, but Armand is the first to move. Still trapped under Lestat’s embrace, he reaches up, nimble fingers working with precision to untie the bow, then undo each button before he’s able to shed the finely tailored dress shirt to the ground and reach, instead, for the wrinkled old t-shirt draped on the back of a nearby chair.

There’s no protest from Lestat as he slips out of his Opening Night attire and grabs his sweatpants back up off the floor. Armand moves in tandem, shrugging off his velvet blazer in favor of one of Louis’ well-worn sweatshirts. And there’s nothing more to say, really, as they each crawl into bed, despite Louis’ groan of protest. There’s a softness, in fact, in Lestat’s eyes, that seems rare and beautiful to Armand.

Lestat peels back the covers just enough to kiss at Louis’ temple, and for some reason that alone makes Armand’s chest ache.

Come, says Lestat, in that voice Louis will never be able to hear, He needs us both.

“I don’t need your pity.” Louis whines as Lestat shimmies under the blankets to his right while Armand joins on the left. “Go see the opera, or the play. Leave me alone. I’m serious.”

His hair musses like a great lion’s mane against the pillows as he turns his head from side to side to glower at the two of them.

“Fresh out of pity, I’m afraid,” Lestat sighs. “Only love.”

“Disgusting,” Louis frowns.

“What would you like to do, Louis?” Armand smoothes his hand up Louis’ arm, presses a gentle kiss to the edge of his shoulder.

“Nothing.” Louis grabs at his phone once more, lets the bright colors illuminate his pallid skin as he holds it obstinately right in front of his nose. “I don’t want to do anything. I’m going to waste the evening just like this, thank you very much.”

“Very well, then.” Lestat can’t help but laugh at the cartoonish scowl across Louis’ face. He never was as expressive as Lestat, though on rare occasions he does a fine job of projecting his emotions as a means to ward off unwanted confrontation. The only thing missing, it seems, is a little rain cloud to hover above his head.

But Armand and Lestat understand, they always do. And so they sit in silence, holding one another, counting the slow rise and fall of Louis’ chest between them. The Opera would have started five minutes ago. The playhouse would have been opening the house.

But still they sit.

And still Louis does not budge.

Until about three hours in when, like a child exhausted by their own tantrum, Louis heaves a heavy sigh, throws his dead phone into the sheets at the foot of the bed, and grabs the pillow from behind him and smashes it back down on his face.

A minute goes by in absolute silence. Then another. And then, just as Louis inhales another deep sigh, the pillow is lifted from his face. Above him, Armand stares down, brow cocked and head tilted ever so slightly to the side. He’s contemplating something, but before Louis has the opportunity to ask, the pillow comes right back down on his face with a satisfying TWACK!

“Armand!”

Louis grapples at the pillow, stunned and floundering like a fish out of water to the tune of Lestat’s hyena-cackles. But as soon as he’s recovered from the attack, there is that sharpness in his eyes once more as he grips the pillow in anticipation. He flies at Armand first, of course, but suddenly there’s another SMACK against the back of his head, and he finds himself blindly whirling around to lob a hit right over top of those pretty blond curls.

It’s beautiful chaos for one glorious minute. A searing blaze of limbs and pillows, feathers and sheets, laughter and screeches, shallow breath and beating hearts. And when it’s over, Armand and Lestat lie side by side, on their stomachs, pinned beneath their victor.

“Much better,” Armand laughs, and Louis can feel it shake the bed.

“If we leave now, we can make it to the Opening Night afterparty.” Lestat jokes, to which Louis responds with a swift smack of a pillow and a long, crushing embrace.

“Don’t even think about it.”

#my writing #drabble #drabbles #loustat #loumand #louis has two hands #<- my louis/armand/lestat tag <3 #THANK YOU FOR THIS LMAO I LOVE THEMMMMMMM

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akkkkollle · 2 years

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soft sex with Rindo? he's just such a tsunder🥺 and gently fucking him is so cool. something like a continuation of the part with a quarrel maybe???

Pairing: Rindou × M!Reader.

Cw: Pet names, hickeys, minor breast play, open end, a little romance, teasing.

Still imprinting his red face in your mind, you also went up to the apartment, closing the door behind you. He was leaning on the back of the sofa, covering his face with his hands, muttering some nonsense about you. You laugh softly as you approach him. A short cry escapes from his throat when he feels himself being placed on the back of the sofa and his lips are being bit into. His arms wrap around your neck as he sighs, still pouting at you.

- Handsome, do you want me to prove that I only need you? - you whisper on his lips, interrupting the kiss.

His cheeks turn even redder, but he nods, covering your lips with his lips again. You pick him up when his legs wrap around your waist and you drag him into the bedroom. You gently put him on the bed, hovering over him and simultaneously taking off his T-shirt.

You pull away from his lips, starting to kiss his chin, to which he only huffs and throws his head back, freeing up space for you on his neck. You roll your eyes, but still begin to cover his slightly dark skin with light kisses when his breathing is lost. One of your hands lingers on his nipple, crushing it, and the other goes down to his trousers, removing them along with boxers. You move away from his neck, in the end, do not forget to bite his neck so that he exhales raggedly.

- That's not fair... - he whispers, lifting his legs to try to take off your trousers.

You pull off your trousers and underwear, starting to shower his chest with kisses when he grabs you by the hair. Your gaze slides to the bedside table and you reach out to take what you need. You bite his nipple on purpose, making him moan and gently push you in the shoulder.

Your hand opens a jar of lube, squeezing it onto your fingers, which run to Rindo's ass. Your fingers stroke his entrance, forcing him to contract his muscles, and then you insert your fingers, moving them, causing Haitani Jr. to groan with satisfaction. Your fingers bend in every possible way and almost immediately find his sweet spot, starting to tease him. Your mouth sucks his bud while playing with the next one. You stretch Rindou's ass with two fingers, surprised to find that he is already ready. Your mouth and fingers are no longer on the guy's body, which makes him squirm in anticipation.

- Well? What position do you want today, sweetheart? - you ask sweetly.

- That's it... - he says impatiently, just holding his legs by his knees.

- Missionary? How boring for you ... - you sing mockingly, aligning your dick with his hole.

- It's not boring, I just—! - his phrase breaks off when you insert and begin your comprehension immediately. - Just wanted y-your cook, ah!

-You see, Rinnie, it doesn't even hurt. Who else besides you could take my dick so perfectly, huh? - you whisper, biting his earlobe.

-N-nobody! You won't fuck anyone except, ha! Except, well, uhm... You did it on purpose... - he whines, feeling how you persistently abuse his sweet spot.

- I don't know... Anyway, nobody, you're right. I won't fuck anyone when I have such a gorgeous spouse. - you smile happily, making Rindo blush and cover her eyes with her hands, feeling the cold metal on her left eyelid.

#top male reader #dom male reader #seme male reader #x male reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #Tokrev x male reader #sub tokyo revengers #sub tokrev #rindou smut #Sub rindou #Rindou x male reader #rindou x reader #Tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #tokrev x reader

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rizzrizzriki · 1 year

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dance the night away | a ni-ki short fic

back again with ANOTHER niki drabble 🙁… anyways

word count: 800+

warnings: i probably spelled somethings wrong :\ lmk

ni-ki x gn! reader

yayayaya

"that was amazing."

"that was terrible."

it'd been hours, no, maybe days since the two of you had taken a break from learning this choreography, and everything was hurting, at this point. the dance studio was empty save for the two of you, standing there in the middle of the room like idiots.

"it's never been this hard before," you whined, trying to go over the moves in your head.

it was getting more and more difficult; for what reason? no one knew. you'd already forgotten the name of this part of the choreography, and your feet hurt just thinking about having to learn it again.

niki sighed, running his hands through his hair. "it's alright." he reassured you. "it'll get easier with practice."

you threw yourself in the nearest corner of the room, sitting where the floor met the wall with your legs sprawled out across the floor. it was all you could do not to slump over into a heap on the spot like a puddle of mud and melt right into the floor, which, honestly, didn't sound like a horrible idea. he mirrored your actions, sliding down the wall until you were both sitting like awkwardly posed store mannequins.

niki rested his chin on your shoulder, looking up at you as he did so. "are you tired?"

"is that a question?"

he laughed a bit. "maybe i should throw in a reminder that you picked this choreo."

another overexaggerated sigh echoed through the room before you pulled the drawstrings of your hoodie, pulling it around you more securely than before. even though he was right, you didn't need to be reminded that you had something to do with choosing this awfully horrendous dance. you'd chosen this dance because it looked easy, at first; plus, it reminded you of some dance moves on tv you'd seen when you were younger. but now...now it felt more like torture.

"oh well, guess i don't need my joints anyways," you said, getting up from the cold, hardwood floor.

"see? that's the spirit!"

niki cheered, standing up too. his smile was so wide that you thought it might eventually get stuck like that or something. he looked ridiculous, but you wouldn't have minded if you never saw his grin fade ever again in your life.

with the press of a button, music echoed through the speakers, loud enough to cause ripples through the air, and you started moving toward the center of the room where the steps would start. you could feel niki's eyes on your back as you spun on one foot after the other, your arms stretching up over your head as you tried to move through the complicated pattern. you stopped once you realized niki hadn't moved, turning back around, watching him with raised eyebrows.

"uh, why didn't you join me?"

he blinked, smirking to himself. "i don't know how to dance."

"cut the crap, nishimura."

"wow, pretty big word for you."

you narrowed your eyes. "this isn't funny anymore."

"it wasn't a joke, it was an observation."

he started the music again, and this time, everything around you disappeared. every beat of the music was accompanied by another movement of yours, your body twisting and turning as you took in every new detail of each step you made. you forgot about the ache in your legs and the soreness of your joints and all that nonsense, you only wanted to move in rhythm, like the music itself.

you moved through each step with almost perfect precision as if guided by some divine force. you'd probably imagined it, but you could've sworn you heard the music whisper its way through your limbs; it sounded like it was alive, pulsing in harmony with your own heart beating loudly within your chest.

you danced like a hurricane, a tempest of adrenaline and passion, and niki didn't dare stop you.

the music cut off seconds later and heaving breaths filled the space around you. your chest heaved, too, trying to catch your breath as you looked up at niki, who gave you an encouraging eyebrow bounce. his lips were curved into a genuine grin, and you returned it, still panting as you sat down on a nearby stool.

"right, so... what was that?" he asked, walking over to you.

"was it good?"

he hummed. "better than good. here, i recorded."

you watched as your dance moves glided through the room on the screen of his phone, and a sense of pride settled in your gut, along with absolute disbelief.

"that was not me."

"did you get possessed?" he joked.

you smiled, almost as widely as he did, the corners of your mouth lifting up. your face was wet with sweat, your nose was stuffy, and your cheeks ached; but nothing else hurt, not even your feet. niki reached up to take a towel, offering it to you so that you could wipe the sweat off your face. you accepted it, and used it to clean the rest of your skin off while niki leaned against the mirror beside you.

"that was amazing, huh?" you said after taking a second to catch your breath.

his smiled turned into a sly smirk. “well, i didn’t say it was amazing, but-“

“alright, i’m leaving.”

putting more effort in this than in my essay 😋

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marchsfreakshow · 10 months

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Poems - The Fool And The King [JPM x Reader]

This is the best way I could think of incorporating one of my poems, and also my favourite poem :3 I hope you guys like it cause I'm outta ideas for stuff.

Your perspective.

Miss Evers had come in and out of my room multiple times today, staring daggers at me. I raised an eyebrow at her the second time but didn't ask until the fourth time she came in. "Okay, this is ridiculous, Miss Evers what are you doing?! You're coming in and out with multiple sheets and blankets that aren't even mine!" It annoyed me, and I hoped my asking would get her to f off. But she just shrugged at me, and then walked out.

James replaced her footsteps, and I just gave him a glance before going back to my notepad. He seemed ignorant of what I had just asked Evers. Like he didn't even hear me even though he was clearly on his way to my room anyway. "What?" I asked, giving him an annoyed look.

He sat by me with no words and read the words on my notepad. "The Fool and The King...that sounds like a wonderful poem dearest." James just said, smiling at me. I just smirked slightly and looked away from him, I felt embarrassed about the poem, it wasn't even done yet. There were scribbles and lines through random words. I didn't particularly want anyone to see it, it was, as James said, about a fool and a king. Abstract I guess.

Before I said anything though, James started to read it out loud, my blushing becoming apparent. "If the fool made it, The king cannot compare. But why does the king catch quick? Like a silver bullet, Meeting Hippolyte." He stopped since a whole verse was scribbled out. "That sounds beautiful love. I love it." Compliments were not something I heard regularly about my poems. They were cringe, cliche, too long, too short. Everything but 'beautiful.' None of them would get published anywhere though, they're just thoughts I come across.

Yet, James just carried on reading the nonsense scrawled over the yellow-tinted page. "How simple the fool is, For running. Running like a bunny, A little bunny, in an unopened woods but the king will love. The fool will fall. And they May never cross again." Hearing him say the words made me feel more and more embarrassed, my hands now hiding my face due to how red I felt. But once he was done he stared at me in awe. I didn't want to hear any more compliments about the sentences. "My dear, why would you ever not show this to me before? It's wonderful."

All I did was throw the notebook onto his lap, completely giving up. "It's not that great I promise you, you're delusional." He sighed heavily as I turned away from him, but he snaked his arm around my torso, pulling me back to face him. "Fuck off.." I just whined as a smile graced my face. James tightened his hold as he went back to the pad and finished the poem.

"Not even in dreams. And not even in the daydreams, Of a transparent, small, Dreamer. So please kiss me, my king. The fool cannot wait forever, For the love we hold away." He held on to the end, re-reading it over and over. It was like he was entranced by it for some reason. It confused me, before he piped up, and attempted to look in my eyes. "Oh my bird, you don't have to wait forever, I'm right here, all for you."

Where did he get that idea? A look of confusion set itself on my face, and I placed my hands in my lap, away from my face. "Are you calling me a fool sir? If so I don't agree." He chuckled, gently tracing my face.

"All I'm saying my dear is that I'm yours forever until you get tired of me." He said simply, giving me a kiss. One I happily returned.

#james patrick march #JPM #james march x reader #james march #jp my beloved #jpm x reader #he's so cute #Pls love me #he's so babygirl #ahs #american horror story #ahs hotel #AHS #evan peters #spit in my face #Sir #Readthisoriwillcryinyourface

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co-mixed · 3 months

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Daredevil by Ann Nocenti

I was planning on a short review but the more I read, the more details and elements kept popping up and I knew I would be wrong to not point them out. So here it is, a fully detailed review.

Take Your Time

Nocenti took over the title after Frank Miller (and if memory serves me right, several guest writers). It was not going to be easy, especially after the massive Born Again arc, in which after having his life completely shattered by Kingpin (and Miller), Matt returns to Hell's Kitchen to live happily ever after with Karen and opens a legal clinic/addiction hotline. He can't legally practice law, she is definitely not qualified for any psychological help, what could go wrong? Oh well, he's also still Daredevil and Karen still hates it, so there is that. Nocenti had a pretty tough task to rebuild everything and at the same time deliver good stories.

At this point, I notice when a new writer on a title is struggling for the first few months, while they try to establish their own take and find their footing. Once that's out of the way, everything goes smoothly (for most, anyway).

Nocenti's run gets a little chaotic in the beginning, while she starts to set the rules and draw the neighborhood around Daredevil and Karen. And if you expected her to go easy on the characters, you can rest easy knowing that she's put DD through hell. Literally.

Building Hell's Kitchen

Right away she involves some neighborhood kids and gives them all slow-burn arcs. In fact, she includes children in a lot of stories, and they provide a reflection of the dark and complex adult world. They react, they mirror the grown-ups and the things happening around them affect them in an unpredictable way. The arc of the kid who slowly, in the span of several issues, discovered his darker side and ended up being killed by a mob member, is something you barely notice happening at first. And then he keeps coming back, making a small but ultimately wrong choice, which eventually brings him to his demise. All that adds a sense of responsibility and urgency to Daredevil. Something he may have always experienced but didn't necessarily watch happen. Not to imply that no one has suffered from his misguided actions before (RIP, Heather). And not to say that he was responsible for the kid's choices, but said kid came to Matt repeatedly and Matt missed all the signs. If you want to direct the issue back to the kid's parents, I have to point out that most of them were ill-attended. The other kid story is Bullet's son Lance. He doesn't have much to do with DD but he's a reflection of how an impressionable child due to lack of attention can develop a full-on phobia. That's not something that I've seen in superhero comics that often. This darkness is fully developed by Nocenty and if you look closely, has its roots in Miller's stories.

The Origins of Evil

There is a series of one/two-issue arcs with guest stars and seriously messed up villains. And I don't use messed up lightly, I didn't necessarily expect this much darkness from the 80s (which is funny, since I've seen it before). In each story, there's a social issue mixed into the arc and exaggerated to the extreme. Nocenti doesn't just throw a bunch of villains at the hero. Even her minor [evil] characters usually have a rich backstory, which she isn't afraid to share. They can be victims of injustice, bad parenting, or circumstances. And then she gives them a voice and in some cases, it starts to sound reasonable before you actually see where they went off the rails (Not sure if Neya can be called a villain though).

The Main Event(s)

But all these additional stories more or less revive around two main arcs - Typhoid Mary and Mephisto. Mary's arc is very impressive, and not just because it gives tons and tons of drama. Okay, mostly because of that. The worst way for a hero to lose everything is when they get hurt by someone they trusted. But also, Matt walked into this nonsense all on his own (with a little help from heightened senses, sure, we buy that). I've seen Mary before but never really got familiar with her backstory, aside from encountering her in the latest X-men runs when she married Kingpin. But here it's introduction time and literally the best possible way to know all there is to know about Mary. Her two personalities are interesting in her relationships with other characters (she mostly interacts with DD/Matt and Kingpin but only as Typhoid). But arguably the most definitive element is her parts trying to coexist or rather push each other out. Typhoid is a wild, unpredictable, manipulative, and murderous woman, while Mary is a wallflower, sort of like early Karen. They despise each other, obviously. One's qualities are incompatible with the other's. Typhoid manages to almost kill Matt, but ironically, Mary accidentally delivers the final blow. At this point, Matt's mental stability is shaken to the point from which he can't return on his own, so in true DD fashion, he skips town, reviving the Lone Stranger arc from Miller's run. It doesn't help that before he leaves, beaten and humiliated (rightfully, I might say), there's Inferno going on in New York, as in a literal Limbo opening. It takes an encounter with Mephisto and Inhumans to force him to find himself again and go back to New York. But overall, both stories are some of the greatest examples of how to properly torture a character.

I liked Ann Nocenti's take, it was brutal and harsh with the world showing its ugliest colors. She doesn't shy away from a righteous message and she delivers it in a way that resonates. Nocenti also doesn't reduce her female characters to mindless damsels in need of saving. She even outlines it in the arc of Number Nine. In fact, she didn't paint one or the other as the ideal, both Nine and Brandy learned something from each other.

The Big Picture

In my short review of Born Again on Instagram, I mentioned scaling, specifically Miller inviting the Avengers to deal with one of the villains Daredevil couldn't necessarily handle. Nocenti does a similar thing but again, brings it a step further - she lets Human Torch walk a day in Daredevil's shoes. While at first, he believes it's easier than his job in the Fantastic Four, since they deal with Galactus and other massive dangers on a daily basis. But quickly, he finds out that things aren't that simple. What Daredevil deals with, the famous "street level" is different from saving the world, but that doesn't mean it's easier. Saving one neighborhood with limited resources is something he can't handle. This is bringing value to a character that could easily be considered second-tier. Something that's both necessary and impressive.

Other Pictures

But if I get into this, I might end up rehashing everything that happened in the run. That is if I haven't done it already. I want to sum it up, and of course, it wouldn't be even acceptable without pointing out John Romita Jr's art, he was the main artist for the majority of the run and stood out too. It was dynamic and added the perfect amount of emotion to every character and the interiors that surround them.

All in All

See, when I read the first few issues by Ann Nocenti, I was sure I wasn't going to like it. I thought I was missing something so many people saw. But I kept reading and when it ended, I saw exactly what was there and what made it so unique. It's a perfect follow-up to Born Again, in every sense, and it manages to destroy the seemingly indestructible life the characters created for themselves. The best stories are all like that.

#comics #comic books #marvel comics #marvel #long reads #marvel universe #daredevil #matt murdock #ann nocenti #john romita jr.#typhoid mary #comic book review #spoilers

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inklingofinspiration · 2 years

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a gradum ad lumen - part 2 .

you guys can probably guess by now that i’m a more spontaneous author, so my activity will have it’s ups and downs, and I may just be inactive for months on end when i lack motivation / time to write. but with my high muse for this series so far and the release of season three for umbrella academy, i’m hoping to get out a good amount of writing for as long as i can. but anyway, chapter two!

___

Word count: 3.9k!

Warnings : general TMR TWS; blood, slight gore, disturbing ideas / images, and depicted injuries.

Pronouns used: they/them – gender-neutral.

Prompt(s) used: “Who knows. Maybe we’ve actually made it out of this hellhole after all.”

Pairing: TMR x GN!Reader.

Parts you may have missed : Part 1

A/N: I always forget to beta read my writing, so if parts don’t make sense, just ignore it. I typically do end up reading them after my pieces are posted, so I’ll likely get around to fixing any nonsensical bits the following week. I also apologize for the long and pretty bland chapter, I’m hoping things will be more eventful from here on out.

___

“Jeez, talk about a storm.”

You and Minho were spectating the harsh winds and rain from the safety of your room in the sporadic and rickety building you called the Homestead, watching as the unrelenting weather drenched anything the instant it touched it, the Gladers that were darting about the perfect example as they hastily went about gathering personal belongings and other things prone to being destroyed due to water damage to shelter in the Homestead. Newt was amongst them, the sight of the Keeper directing the traffic through the already muddy grass and whipping winds more than enough to entertain the two of you as you awaited your impromptu supper to finish cooling down.

Despite the later time that you and Minho had come back to the Glade, bringing the arrival of the unexpected storm with you, Frypan had managed to set aside a few bowls of still hot vegetable stew with freshly baked bread rolls that you were more than eager to devour the minute the soup cooled. In the meantime, you nodded in agreement with Minho’s comment, idly picking at a loose thread dangling from the hem of your nondescript shirt as the two of you continued to watch. You had dragged a stool up to the window, knowing that you’d be there a while if your running partner planned on staying by the window for the entirety of the rainstorm, and you were more than relieved that you had done so beforehand, even the thought of trying to stand for that long with your injured leg enough to make you shudder inwardly.

You and Newt had managed to find Clint just as he was throwing empty jars and bandages into a bin, which typically signified that he and Jack were about ready to retire for the evening, and have him run a quick but thorough check on your ankle after explaining what exactly had happened to the medic. Thankfully, after he rolled it experimentally, observed your elicited reactions, and asked you to rate the pain you felt when standing or attempting to walk on it, he confirmed Newt’s suspicions and said that the swelling would subside after a few days, the pain sure to follow suit as well. All you had to do was keep off it as much as possible, though, which put you in a bit of a bind; Clint had been sure to specify that “staying off it” included going out into the Maze until he cleared you again, the news making you deflate slightly. Luckily, you were still able to at least hobble around for short periods of time, which meant that you could pitch in with the Trackhoes and whatever tedious tasks Alby needed help with around the Glade for the time being, and you were more than content to do it – so long as you were helping in some manner.

After a few moments of the rain beating away at the roof overhead, the wind sweeping around it to form an uneven staccato, you finally managed to verbally respond to Minho, pulling your gaze away from the grey expanse of the sky to glance back at your steaming meals and back to the other Keeper as you spoke, “hopefully it’ll let up soon. Can’t have the Glade too wet with a new Greenie coming up tomorrow.”

You watched as he tipped his head toward you, nodding as he seemed to fully process your words.

“Oh yeah, poor slinthead. Almost forgot about that. You’re gonna be here to see him bawl his eyes out and then get his ass beat by Gally, you lucky duck.”

You stifled a laugh, shoving Minho’s shoulder playfully before shaking your head and stretching your arms out above you, practically able to feel the weariness and fatigue as it settled into every crevice of your bones from the day’s strenuous events.

“You’re gonna be here for the bonfire too, slinthead,” You replied as you got to your feet and awkwardly limped to the makeshift table tucked into the corner of your room and retrieving the two bowls and plate under Minho’s humoured gaze. He watched as you attempted to balance a bowl in each hand and the plate on your forearm, finding very quickly that the porcelain of them were heated almost searingly to the touch, which caused you to nearly up end them on the Runner before he snatched them out of your hands and herded you back to your stool. You were left with the plate of bread rolls, which you quickly set aside on the window sill and plucked one right off the pile, wasting no time in savouring the food after the long day you had and the sure-to-be-longer one ahead.

“Save some for me, will you,” He joked, pulling up a chair of his own beside you and discarding the bowls of soup to snatch up a piece of bread himself. You glanced up at him in response, chucking the first thing you could find at him, which just so happened to be a wad of paper to his head. Minho jerked back, surprise quickly melting into a challenging grin as he tossed the piece of paper right back at you. It only took a minute or two for you both to forget about the storm and dinner before you had tackled him to the floor and began trying to gain leverage over him as he struggled in your light grip. Play fighting might as well have been a part of your daily routine, with how often the two of you found yourselves tussling about, whether it was while you were on lunch break in the Maze, trying to prove who was stronger, or just out of pure happenstance. Either way, it always managed to have the two of you laughing, that much evident as you managed to plant a firm hand beside Minho’s head, your eyes locked with his and both of you breathless.

“So. . .” you began, barely able to speak without a few bouts of quieted laughs escaping you, your sides heaving all the while. “You have anything planned for tonight?”

The male seemed close to choking, his own laughter clearly visible in his expression as he brought a knee to your stomach, sending you sprawling on the ground beside him before he mimicked your original position, his typical prideful smirk on his face, “I think I should be asking you that.”

You couldn’t help the grin that overtook your features, whether your heart was beating like a forgotten door in a windstorm due to the situation at hand or the fact that you and him had just spent a good five minutes play fighting completely unbeknownst to you. However, just as you sucked in a breath to suffice your winded and strained breaths, words practically dancing on your tongue with your prepared riposte, the door to your room swung open to reveal an unmistakable blonde standing right in the doorway. His doe-like eyes took in the scene before him, gaze sweeping from Minho’s turned head, wearing a cocky grin at his processing expression to you struggling in the Keeper’s grasp, desperately not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

“We– we were– Minho tackled me!” You cried in feigned anguish, an arm dramatically coming to drape over your forehead, your body going limp in response. Under the joking front, you just hoped that it was enough to distract the second in command from the conclusions he could draw from the position you and Minho were in. “You have to help me!”

“I’m good,” Newt managed, having to stifle his own laughter as you struggled in Minho’s grip, attempting to throw him off in a myriad of ways as he continued. “Alby wanted to see the two of you, so I’d suggest postponing your little. . . session until after you talk to him. Something about the Greenie and a tour.”

You exclaimed a sound of protest, reaching for the wad of paper you had thrown at Minho only a minute or two prior, and chucking it the blonde’s way with the sole intention of hitting the back of his head. But he ducked out of the way and padded down the hallway just in time, allowing it to hit the wall and sink to the floor almost soundlessly, his giggles and laughs audible until he clomped down the stairs and disappeared out of sight. As soon as he was out of earshot, Minho let out an audible groan and moved to lay on the floor in a position similar to yours, clearly dreading the unexpected meeting with Alby. You both lay in silence for a minute or two, your eyes fluttering shut as you exhaled. After a moment or two, you rolled onto your side.

“Come on, shank, best not to keep our loving leader waiting,” You stated as you rolled your shoulders back, wincing gingerly as you finally stood back up.

You both were downstairs and standing where Alby sat at the bar on the first floor of the Homestead, either swishing a glass of water or one of the bitter tasting concoctions Gally mixed up the evening before every bonfire. Silence had settled over all of the other Gladers, each of them tucked into their own sleeping bags and strewn about the floor and practically everywhere you stepped. At least half of them usually slept outside, but with the prolonged rain, it wasn’t quite doable, so whenever a rare storm did happen to spring forward, everyone settled with cramped space in exchange for warmth and a dry place to sleep. Lucky for you, you didn’t have to stress all that much about sharing your space whenever it rained, courtesy of the fact that you’d gotten your own room far before any of the others had even arrived in the Glade, save for Alby and Newt, which was something you often thanked the stars above for. Being crammed into a room with about a dozen other people wasn’t exactly on the top of your bucket list.

You were pulled from your abrupt train of thought though, when your first in command turned to nod at both you and Minho and gestured to the stools on either side of him, a wordless motion for you to sit.

You eagerly complied, the aching of your ankle beginning to set in and make the gears of your brain falter every minute or so from having stood for a good few moments. Minho claimed the seat to the right, leaving you to sink into the stool on the left before Alby tilted his glass in your direction, which you steadily declined with a meagre wave, only for Minho to pluck the drink right out of Alby’s hand the moment it was offered and down the whole thing. Judging by the bitter expression that overtook your fellow Keeper’s face, it answered the question that had drifted through your mind a minute earlier; Gally had been handing out samples of his drinks, then.

You and Alby shared an off-handed snicker before the latter composed himself and began to speak at last.

“Since Y/N here’s screwed their ankle for the time being, you’re gonna be stuck with running by yourself for the next few days,” Alby pointed out, directing his words to Minho, whose thoughts were practically on display for anyone who passed; thanks for stating the obvious. But he remained silent nevertheless, only nodding along and allowing the other ample time to speak. He turned to you next, jutting his chin almost imperceptibly, “which means I want you to show Greenie the ropes. I’ll still show him around, Chuck’s already been assigned as as his tour, but just keep an eye out while you’re stuck here, yeah?”

“On it,” You confirmed with a complacent tilt of your head, which Alby returned without missing a beat.

“That’s all, I just knew it’d make Minho mad,” He mused after a moment of you both staring at him expectantly, as though he had more left to say. A muttered “yeah, whatever” was drawn from the aforementioned Runner, at which you grinned and nodded toward the two of them once more.

“Good that. I’m gonna head to bed then.”

Minho and Alby spoke their quick farewells in your direction as you headed back up the stairs, careful to avoid any of the loitering Gladers as you stepped around any of them that were inconveniently stationed right in the middle of the hallway leading off to your room. Once you finally slipped through and into your room and shut the door behind you, night had fully fallen, starlight and moonbeams spilling through the window as you cleared the dishes from yours and Minho’s dinner that had been left on the sill and set them aside on the table they had been originally.

Thankfully, you had changed the minute you had gotten back to the Homestead after your checkup with Clint and Minho was off showering, so you collapsed onto your bed with a content sigh, feeling as though you fell asleep the instant your head hit the pillow.

—

You were awoken by a rapid knocking on your door, a voice slurred from sleep sounding from the other side allowing you to conclude that it was wake up call, to which you allowed yourself to brush off momentarily. You rubbed at your eyes and blinked a few times, huffing a bleary sigh and swinging your legs so that they dangled over the edge of the mattress. You stretched out your limbs before finally slipping out of bed and padding rather wobbly across your room to retrieve your running harness hung by the door before you remembered your little predicament as your ankle knocked against the leg of your dresser. You bit back the urge to curse the stupid thing, finding payback as you harshly pulled the drawers open and rifled through clothes you didn’t use when running. After a few moments, you settled with your go-to outfit for whenever you didn’t care to put too much effort into searching for clothes but still wanted to look presentable.

You were changed and out the door in a matter of minutes, waving to Winston as you passed him on the way down the stairs and high fiving Chuck’s outstretched hand before you easily climbed down the handful of steps that led from the Homestead and onto the dew-misted grass. The other Gladers were milling about, sleep still laid thick in the air along with the early morning scent of the lavender you had begged Newt to plant for about a month straight, claiming that it would help keep everyone who passed calm and content, when in reality, you just wanted it there to help cover up the eyesore of the Bloodhouse and aesthetic. You grinned at the memory as you headed for the kitchen, recalling how proud he had looked when it first began to bloom and the way he looked as though he was about to burst when you thanked him eagerly.

You were among the first early risers who managed to snag places at the front of the line to collect breakfast, which allowed you to peer over the counter to see what Frypan had whipped up for the morning. You could typically tell by what had been cooked whether he had been in a rush or not, so when you laid eyes upon buttered toast and boiled eggs with vegetables freshly sliced from the garden, you knew he had to be in a good mood. When it was your turn, you slid into place opposite from where Frypan was standing, offering him a bright grin and wave before he slid your tray of food toward you. The chef looked up, a matching smile instantly greeting you as he leaned against the counter.

“Hey, N/N. Heard about your fiasco yesterday,” He prodded teasingly, to which you rolled your eyes playfully and lifted your tray.

“Seems as if everyone has,” You shot back easily, tapping the counter by way of farewell along with a laugh at his words. “Thanks for the food! See you at lunch!”

“You too!”

You sighed mindlessly to yourself as you walked from the kitchen, the golden rays of sun bathing you in much needed warmth and a light breeze batting at your hair as you walked. The table that you typically sat at appeared after a moment or two of walking, the worn picnic table a good few feet away from the front door of the Homestead but at a central point that allowed you a view of all the other Gladers as they seemed to wake up more and more by the second. You seated yourself in the middle of one of the benches and set your tray down, opting to wait to begin eating until the others arrived as you humoured a glass of water idly.

You could feel unadulterated excitement as you remembered that it was Greenie day, practically trembling in your seat because of it. Whenever a new Glader arrived, you took the opportunity and ran with it; you didn’t view them as another mouth to feed, rather the prospect of another pair of hands to help around the Glade and another person to share the crappy experience of the Glade itself with, as corny as it sounded. A new person meant the possibility for a fresh set of eyes that just might be the key to finding a way out, essentially. The idea was something Minho often teased you about when the time for a newcomer approached, but you knew it was all in good fun.

You were about to glance over your shoulder in search of your friends when Newt, Chuck, and Alby all seated themselves in one spot or another at the table. You grinned at the sight, Newt seeming to sense as much as he took up the seat next to you, and merely responded with a breathy laugh and quick shake of his head. Chuck had already launched into a rigorous rant about one of the Trackhoes that had left a particularly big mess right outside of the kitchen when bringing in the vegetables of the week for Frypan to use that he’d ended up having to clean, you listening intently all the while as you pushed around the piece of toast on your plate with a fork. Despite how clearly frustrated the younger boy was, his animated hand gestures that subconsciously whipped back and forth along with his words were enough to make you take it all in with an amused smile, left breathless once he finally finished and turned to his plate while you laughed lightly.

“Well, we appreciate you cleaning it up, I didn’t even realise anything had happened. I’m sure Newt can give whoever it was an hour-long lecture to make sure it doesn’t happen again, though,” You replied between drinks of water. You nudged the blonde’s leg from under the table and shot him a sideways glance, subtly tilting your head toward the other boy when he looked up at you in confusion. Newt stumbled to respond, tapping his fork against his plate as he let out a slightly nervous laugh.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll put the shank in the Slammer next time he does it.”

Chuck beamed, shooting the second in command a thumbs up as he took a bite of his sandwich, clearly eager to get the day started as he rushed to finish the meal. From beside him, Alby stood, silent as ever as he watched the conversations take place, gaze occasionally lifting from his plate to glance at each of you but finally spoke as you made eye contact with him.

“Since Greenie obviously isn’t gonna be coming anytime soon, probably in the afternoon, we’ll just have the tour be tomorrow,” He stated in an almost bored tone, his shoulder rolling back in the direction of the Box. “He can work with you and Newt in the gardens ‘til then.”

Newt jumped in before you could answer with more than a nod, “Good that. We still on for the bonfire?”

You and Chuck both looked up from your plates at that, your eyes sliding toward Alby as he seemed to consider Newt’s words, weighing the options.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. ‘Sides, I think the others’d kill us otherwise.”

—

The early afternoon sunlight was searing as you lifted a hatchet you’d been working with for the past hour above your head before bringing it down to split a block of wood in half and embed itself into the stump below.

After spending your morning weeding out the vegetable garden and picking carrots, you had found that the wood to be used in the fire that night still had yet to be chopped, so you were more than happy to step in and come to the aid. Newt had tagged along, the two of you drifting in and out of conversation as he carried on with tasks around the stump that you were chopping wood at and keeping an eye on your ankle in case you misstepped or twisted it on accident, and he was taking his first break of the day, his body leaned against the the fallen tree as he watched you bring the axe down on one of the last pieces of wood. You huffed in exertion, the back of your forearm coming to wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead before giving the tool a final swing to set it purposefully into the tree stump.

You heard Newt whistle, your head turning right to glance over at him before he tossed you his water bottle, which you snatched out of the air and took gratefully. You were about to hand it back to him and utter your thanks after a long minute of downing the water when the final blare to announce the arrival of the Box sounded, all the Glader’s heads shooting up in response. You shot Newt a grin before he laughed and rolled his eyes, gesturing for you to head toward it with him on your heels.

You arrived a minute or two after everyone else, your ankle’s several jolts of protest slowing you down to a fraction of your typical speed, so by the time you had even reached the fringes of the crowd gathered around the newcomer, the Box’s doors had already been thrown open, the Greenie likely already dragged out.

Several murmurs and taunting comments were exchanged as everyone else seemed to get a good look at him, leaving you attempting to crane your neck to see over the sea of bodies crammed together, only for them all to let out a laugh in unison, all of them parting someone bolted through the crowd and headed straight for you.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a Runner!” Someone called as the person who you could only assume was the Greenie continued sprinting, seemingly unaware of their surroundings as they took off. You braced yourself for the harsh impact, knowing you wouldn’t be able to make it out of the way in time with the speed he was running at, but it seemed as though his luck ended about there, leading to him tripping and falling right at your feet.

As dazed, hazel eyes looked up at you, you smiled, recovered from the minor scare he had given you and offered a hand for him to pull himself up,

“Welcome to the Glade, Greenie.”

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oldshrewsburyian · 2 years

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I’ve figured out yet another reason I have Too Many Feelings about the Robin Hood show with mullets and a synthesizer (yes, I am furiously and semi-resentfully justifying things to myself.) Again, ‘ros nonsense’ is the tag to block if you don’t want to be dragged into this.

Anyway! Implausibly enough, this show apparently has more research used better than... uh... most or at least much medievalist media. Which means, in turn, that I do not have to wonder how things work in this Fantasy Medieval World. Barring the stag god and the paganism and the black magic practiced by everyone from barons to nuns -- a significant but also fairly self-contained list -- I know how things work in this world.

Which means, among other things, that I know what Robin and Much’s shared childhood would have been like. If Much is maybe 18 in the pilot, then he’s a sturdy toddler when Robin of Locksley gets set down on their doorstep with a promise that his father can’t keep. So Matthew and Alisoun (I’ve decided her name is Alisoun) take the boy in. Much must have been a late child, a single child, but Alisoun kisses away the tears of the motherless boy in a strange place. When Ailric never does come back, well, that’s that. A village burns, and a good man dies, and she and Matthew impress upon the boy that for his own safety, he must never, ever be Robin of Locksley, but only Robin who lives at the mill. But for all that, Locksley is not forgotten.

Robin is a watchful child, and to Alisoun’s mind, a little too given to thinking. He speaks little of his griefs. But as it is Much who, the day of Ailric’s funeral, slips a hand into Robin’s as they stand in the churchyard, so it is Much, she finds, who will put his arms around his brother’s neck on the days when the older boy is more than usually silent. And so they grow up. It is Robin’s job to look after Much in the village lanes and beyond them, to make sure that he comes to no harm when the boys are swimming in the river. Alisoun worries, of course. But she and Matthew are too busy with making sure that the donkey is fed and the mill runs and the taxes are paid to worry overmuch as long as the boys are home by suppertime. She does worry, the day that Much runs into the mill weeping and alone, to explain that some of the others have been shouting words he did not understand, and that young Jack (always a bad lot, in Alisoun’s view) threw a stone.

Alisoun has long feared the day that other children would first call her sweet son names. But she hushes and soothes him and tells him that he need not mind others’ shouting, and that Jack was very naughty to throw a stone. Matthew, leaving the donkey to do his work, swings down the street with a growl and a curse, suggesting that words will be had with Jack’s father. It is only at this juncture that Alisoun looks around and thinks to ask about her other son. Much sniffles, and says that Robin told him to go home. Alisoun gives the boy bread and honey, and tries not to worry. When Robin does come home, there is blood on his face; his collar is in Matthew’s hand. But Matthew cuts short her exclamations by observing that Robin knocked Jack down, and perhaps they could all have bread and honey. Alisoun is very careful not to smile.

They grow up startlingly different, her boys. Matthew observes one night, not quite ruefully, that neither of them thinks like other people. And Alisoun sighs, and says that’s true enough. She still finds Robin a little too watchful, a little too silent. But he is a gentle lad, for all that. She has to remind herself of that sometimes, as the edges of him grow sharper, as he roams restless through the forests which are the king’s. And when he kisses her, and tells her not to ask about the meat that keeps the village fed in the winter -- well, she does not ask, though she knows he and Much never got that from the rabbit traps. Alisoun tells herself firmly that Robin will be all right, that they all will. In good time, Much will take over the mill from Matthew. And if Robin, with his restlessness, does not stay to do the accounts, she and Much will manage until Much takes a wife. They’ll be all right, her boys. She tells herself this until the day it isn’t true. She waits, sick at heart, for news of a public hanging. But the news does not come. By the time the mill is almost serviceable again, she begins to hear stories about outlaws. And when the weather begins to turn cold, she finds meat on her doorstep, and knows that Robin of Locksley has not forgotten his other home.

#ros nonsense #i do vaguely feel that i should apologize for being Like This but here we are #robin of sherwood #fun with medievalism #ESCAPISM i said #robin: nothing is forgotten. nothing is ever forgotten #me (medievalist who grew up on robin hood stories): *cries*

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nightfoxproductions726 · 2 years

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It's been a while...

I know not that long ago I just up and posted I guess one could say a rant/expression of how I felt on a specific matter that I came across on Twitter. This is twice now I've done that. The other incident was someone treating disabled characters (and by extension real life people) like a checklist in stories and we aren't human apparently (as a queer disabled person who writes disabled, queer characters it lit a fire under my ass to showcase these characters and to explain why it's wrong to treat us like this. Because I'm sick of people treating us like we shouldn't exist.)

ANYWAY! Enough of that. It's almost 4 am where I live and probably should wait until I've gotten proper sleep to write this, but brain can't sleep apparently due to falling back with the time (now I know how my late beagle felt with this nonsense...)

There has been a lot of changes over the last several months. Some good and some not so good.

For The Good:

Earlier this year I got a drawing tablet, thanks to a suggestion from an artist friend/follower on Twitter. Because of this, I've been able to improve my art. This is something I've been wanting to do for a very long time, but didn't know exactly what to look for (or if there was anything compatible with my Chromebook - that I regret buying. Always do your research before up and buying something, kids.) Now, the art isn't like say anime quality level, but it looks a lot better than some of the hand drawn sketches from 2009/2010 and this has only been roughly 8 months of getting into digital art.

The other good news and something that was mentioned in my rant/expression post that I made. I discovered I'm nonbinary. Now, I know this isn't important to anyone, but it is important to me. Because this has been something that has bothered me for years (we're talking since 8 years old bothering me.) I never identified as female and I never identified as male. The only thing I knew was I was me while fighting a bunch of people who kept on wanting me to act/behave a certain way. Also, because of this, it has helped me feel more comfortable in my skin after years of feeling like a specter staring at a body.

The Not So Good:

I got COVID in June and the after effects have been hell on me. Mainly causing a childhood issue of not feeling hunger even worse.

Then on top of this, my lovely country has decided to take away my reproductive rights with Roe v Wade. This has caused me to go on some political rants and question things in this country. Because right now, I feel like no one gives a flying fuck. Especially, the politicians that have cried "they've [the Republicans] been planning this for years!" And what have you been doing this entire time if you knew?! (Also, to the 'we warned you about this' crowd - You're no better than the politicians. What have YOU been doing this entire time???)*

Twitter bought out by Elon Musk and throwing everything into chaos. I'm not looking at this account as a refuge, but because of Muskrat's behavior I have to look elsewhere to market and post things. This upheaval was not expected and I was hoping to stay on Twitter. Because in all honesty, despite my Twitter account's age, Twitter was the place that helped me improve my writing skills and my art. Also, on top of this that account and the people I met helped me find me. Which is something I'll be forever grateful for and no words can express how happy I am to finally be happy with myself.

*This rant is for another day as this post is running way longer than expected.

The short of it - I've been on a self exploration of sorts and while I've met several bumps along the way - things are slowly improving for the better on a personal end. Which is something that has been needed in a long time.

Some art examples:

#nightfoxproductions #art #digital art #artists on tumblr #discovery #doodle #writing #politics #nonbinary #lgbt #short comic

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gh4stlyg1rl · 2 years

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"What's up Terra? Lou grinned to his friend as he followed Hazel in and sat at the table where his roommate was arguing with the wolf in the patchwork coat.

"Lou, what are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" He responded, giving her a look.

"Enough of this nonsense." The other wolf said, slamming his fist onto the table. "We're simply here to make sure everything stays safe, but that won't happen if people go poking around where they don't belong." His eyes narrowed as he cast a glare in Lou's direction.

"She knows what's up," Lou said in an attempt to calm the other wolf. Hazel gave him a brief look. She wasn't sure she knew anything about what was up, but she sat quietly and let Lou handle things for now.

"Does she, Lou?" The wolf gave him a stern look. "Just like you did, right?"

Hazel could tell that the man's words stung as she looked to Lou. She felt an urge to say something to defend him but reminded herself that she barely even knew him. "I'm not here to cause any trouble." She added to the conversation but wasn't sure what, if any, impact it would have.

"Sometimes trouble will find you anyway." The old snapped at her but seemed to soften slightly.

"Everything is under control Kristopher." Lou tried his best to reassure the man, but it was clear that he was still recovering from the last remark.

"We've worked too hard." The other wolf said as she walked into the room. "Way too hard to throw it all away...and for what?"

"Nothing is going to happen." Lou was growing impatient with them.

The female wolf huffed and walked past them toward the hallway. Her walking made Hazel nervous but she chose to ignore it for now. The last thing she wanted to do was make either of them angry, but that one seemed especially short-tempered.

"I'll be right back," Lou said as he watched the wolf walk from the room. Standing from the table he pointed toward the bathroom to signal that he was heading that way and extended a finger indicating he would be back in a minute.

Hazel nodded but continued to listen to the conversation between Terra and Kristopher.

"You've got to cool it, " Lou said as he finally caught up with the female wolf.

She huffed again, turning to face Lou as he quietly closed the door behind him. "You know it's not just her in danger if she starts sniffing around the wrong places. The collective..." She began but was quickly cut off. Lou had heard it so many times.

"Yeah, yeah Lily. The collective. I know. You keep everyone safe." He could see the anger growing on her features. "...and we appreciate it." He added, hoping to calm her down although he did question just how much the collective was running things if he and Rory were usually the ones doing all the heavy lifting. "but you can't keep living in fear like this."

The wolf's lip snarled up at Lou's words. "like you would understand."

"You're right," Lou said, still trying to calm her. "I don't get it. You're right. I'm new here but come on Lily. She's harmless."

"We'll see about that..." The female wolf said as she pushed past Lou and walked out of the room.

"You bet your ass you will," Lou said under his breath once he thought she was far enough away to not hear.

Next || Previous || Start from the Beginning

#MoonwoodMystery #Moonwood Mill #the sims 4 story #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 story #sims 4 storyline #sim stories #sims 4 werewolves #ts4 werewolves #sims 4 werewolf

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oliviaischillin1204 · 4 years

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“Hey Virgil what’s up I’m coming down there!”

The sudden shouting didn’t phase Virgil, nor did the body that abruptly launched itself over the back of the couch to clumsily land on top of him. He merely sighed as he watched the fgure shift for just a second until he was resting comfortably on Virgil’s waist.

“Get off me, Remus,” he said without a hint of surprise.

“Sorry, scaredy-cat,” Remus said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “Brain said raspberries on the tummy right now.”

Virgil did a double take, mouth dropping open a bit as he stammered, “Wait, what--”

Remus had Virgil’s shirt pulled halfway up his torso before he could finish the sentence, and within a second the creative side has his mouth latched onto Virgil’s stomach as he blew the noisiest raspberry he could manage.

Virgil shrieked, arching his back and digging his heels into the couch on reflex. “Noohmygodwhy?”

Remus shrugged, shifting his head so he could press a few smaller raspberries onto the spot where Virgil’s belly met his side. “Raspberries go brr.”

Virgil gasped for breath, hands scrambling to grab any part of Remus to push him away. “That’s not-- not the meme-- nohohoho!”

His words were lost to his peals of laughter as Remus began peppering his ribs with raspberries, alternating between sides to keep Virgil on the edge of insanity. His hands had moved downwards to squeeze at Virgil’s sides and tummy, and Virgil fought like a rodeo bull to throw the dark side off of him.

“Yohohou-- suhuhuck!” he screamed, jerking when Remus curled his fingers into the divot at his waist just as he blew a raspberry on his opposite side. “Stohohop!”

Remus pulled away, but he didn’t get off of Virgil. Instead laid his chin down onto Virgil’s heaving chest, folding his arms under his head as he watched the emo side regain his breath.

“Wanna do me next?” he asked when Virgil finally regained his composure. He looked at Remus for all of two seconds before sighing in resignation mixed with amusement.

“Fine,” he replied, and suddenly Remus was being shoved off of his chest with a squeal, Virgil easily flipping him around until he was on his stomach with Virgil holding both of his legs in a tight grip.

“Raspberries go brr,” he said before Remus could question it, and in the next second he was blowing raspberries all over the backs of Remus’ knees, his grip on Remus’ ankles tightening as the dark side gasped and squawked.

“Ahahahaha!” he cried out, shoving his face into the couch cushions as Virgil switched back and forth between his knees. Virgil shifted his hold so he could grasp both of Remus’ ankles with one hand, allowing his other hand to spider delicately over the back of the knee that wasn’t currently getting raspberried.

“You literally could’ve just asked,” Virgil reminded him, his fingers and his mouth switching spots so quickly that Remus couldn’t even stop laughing to reply. His legs kicked wildly; Virgil stopped after just a few more seconds, not wanting to get kicked in the face (and because he knew Remus’ could only handle so much on his deathspot).

“That was evil,” Remus panted, an ear-to-ear grin on his face that wasn’t just the result of the tickles. Virgil rolled his eyes at the pride in the other side’s voice.

“You started it,” he reminded him, poking Remus’ kneepit and making him squeak.

“You liked it, though!” he sang back at Virgil. “We both know my instincts are never wrong, huh, tickle-me-emo?”

Virgil silenced him by reaching around to squeeze the spot above his knees and sending him back into loud laughter. “Just shut up and take it, meme-lord.”

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #sanders sides tickling #minific #switch!remus #switch!virgil #if this was a full fic i would call it 'impulse control'#or possibly 'olivia has the punchline of a meme stuck in her head and therefore this was born'#anyways have this short nonsense *throws it and runs away*#i wrote this in an hour don't @ me

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

Can you write overprotective long hair harry imagine?? Like he always hovers the reader when she is doing something or even nothing. Or when she needs to run errands he always go with even though its not required. And when reader fell sick he is full on mommy daddy mode dom!h vibes

A/N: OOPS I GOT EXCITED AND WENT OVERBOARD WITH IT :D

Harry’s awfully sweet. He’s a literal sweetheart with those marble sepia eyes, hazelnut curls and that big golden kind heart of his's.

But, to people he’s intimidating. From the black loiter of tattoos, a silver of piercing to the corner of his plush bottom lip and those long curls of his's that frays his broad strong shoulders turns everyone too giddy to talk to him and he's okay with that – bunch of loosers anyways whom he doesn’t want to waste his time on chit-chatting.

Then Y/N came into his life and his world flipped upside down, in a beautiful way (where he felt like floating into the crashing waves of crystal sea). It felt like she made him see the world through pink heart-shaped glasses and everyone’s just bursting into rainbows, puffaw! Boom! Their heads blasting with colourful confetti and ribbons.

Even though his slight grouchiness towards people lessened he still doesn’t gives two fucks before punching the shit out of someone if they in any way hurts, be rude and try to take physical and emotional advantage of, Y/N.

His bunny.

He’s too protective of her. And why wouldn’t he? She’s his everything. His little miracle and his hype-person, his lovie.

He’s the softest peach for her. The guy who walks and everyone scrambles away to give him a way, is whipped for his girlfriend.

He’s always having his strong arm looped around her waist when they’re out and walking, going to hold her hands instead if she’s too wiggly, keeping her close to his chest while he holds their coffees and sweets.

Whenever they’re doing grocery he’s always wheeling the cart around how much Y/N insists and pouts, he likes it that way. Hearing her blabber and skim her eyes down the ingredients labelled on the products then tossing it anyway with a shrug – makes him want to smooch her wet in kisses.

If they’re partying out with friends. Which they rarely do, (Y/N sometimes makes fun of them saying they’re getting too domestic day by day) he’s always having her put in his lap, his screwed up expression lazing when the alcohol starts to kick in and he’s just a blubbering mess of nonsense, and a very horn dog with his cock bloating up in his tight skinny jeans.

Not that he doesn’t let her have a breather and enjoy herself. He indeed does, they’ve a healthy relationship where they keep trust and faith in eachother.

But, sometimes he gets super jealous when people steal his little girlfriend away from him and once home he’s cuddling and oodling her, kissing her face all over with loud smacks and not letting her be away from him another second even it’s too bring him water or to get rid of his smelly socks.

Other times. When he’s particularly very jealous. The serious ones where Y/N unintentionally spends a tad more time at some of her classmates to wind up their upcoming project, he’s driving himself to pick her up and knocking at the door harshly and then dragging her out of there not letting her carry her stuff and huffing and puffing while throwing her things in the backseat.

Because Jeremy’s a sore rascal who’s shit at hiding his crush for Y/N and he should know better to whom she belongs. His innocent baby is too naive towards the possible hints and evil intentions of people.

“Oi. What got into you today?” She brushes the loose curl that escaped from his bun and let her fingers slide down his tight set angry jaw staring him a bit concerned upon seeing him this furious and ruffled up from nowhere.

“You’re mine,” Is all he'd respond. Smashing his lips against hers in a an ardent kiss and glide his palm down her ass to squeeze it and bring her closer grinning when she squeals into his mouth giving him a chance to slip his tongue in and kiss her deeper and sloppier.

“You’re a silly geese.” She giggles whisper into the mess of pecks and lock her elbows around his neck to give him an eskimo kiss.

“Watch y’mouth.” He glares her intensely loving the way Y/N gulps timidly bobbing her head.

“You’ll get a spanking today,” He always likes to warn her before hand. He wants her comfortable with him in every case and it’s downgrade monstrous to treat the person you love like a mean bitch out of blue -- so whenever she deserves a punishment he already announces her of it, warming her to the idea and giving her time to back away if she doesn’t want it.

“What did I’do now!” She whines and he nibbles onto his knuckle glancing her way in disbelief other hand on steering wheel, “What did y'do?” He asks her sternly. Spreading his palm over her thigh and squeezing it grimly.

“Did y'even care to look at the time, Y/N?” Oh boy. She’s in real trouble. Her name on his tongue never fails to turn her insides gooey and pause her heartbeat horribly. A red light for her to being bratty before she falls into the deep black dig of trouble.

Reaching home. He’s throwing her on the bed and demanding her to lay still on her tummy while he puts a pillow under her and spanks her bum sore with his rings imprinting her skin pink, though he never forgets to take care of her afterwards – putting a cool cream to soothe the burn and letting her sleep on his chest so she wouldn’t come in contact with the sheets as he kneads her asscheeks with gentle hands.

He could never have his hands to himself when she’s cooking and baking for them. Always, poking and prodding around having her head tucked under his chin, her embraced in his arms from back swaying them along to Hozier while she reads the recipe she wrote on one of the tiles.

“Stop!” She giggles, squirming in his arms when he blows raspberries against the dip of her neck and then creates growly noises biting and lapping into her skin, “You’re gonna burn our lunch!” She pressed her hips against his crotch to push him away and that warmed him more, delving his fingers more into her hips with a throaty groan.

“We could have a takeout.” His breath shuddery against her ear as he tries to pry the spatula away from her and kiss her grumpy whines down when the pots actually got burned, “I’ll wash and scratch them.” He’d assure picking her up and wrapping her legs around his hips and slipping his fingers in her hair to tug them and bring her mouth down against his’s to taste her.

“Wants to fuck you so bad, baby. My cock’s been weepy fo’ hours without your touch.” He groans, taking her hand and sneaking it inside his joggers to make her feel how stiff and erect he’s for her.

“I just gave you a blowie in the morning!”

“Blowie isn’t equivalent to fucking!”

“What y'readin,?” He scoots closer to her end of sofa with a smirk and towers over her trying to take a peek of whatever she’s reading with such intensity and then rake his warm palms up her calves to lay them over his thighs while he snuggles her wrapping a chonky blanket around them.

“Shhh baby girl, just want you to be more comfy.” He mumbles into her hair scratching his short nails against her scalp in soothing motions and watch her melt against his touch, eyes fluttering as she lurks dangerously to the verge of sleep.

“You always do that. Whenever the hot part’s about to come, you make me all sleepy.” She mutters laying her head against his clavicles gazing him up with hazy eyes, sighing in feign disappointment when he grins down at her in quite victory and gives her a sloppy kiss.

“What do y'need erotica fo’ baby? When your man’s the living walking momentum of sex.” He pouts, grazing his teeth down her neck and leaving a fresh hickey at her throat.

“That’s infact not, true. You’re such a cutie!” She beams up at him never failing to give him dancing butterflies in his stomach and he doesn’t admits it but he likes getting treated soft and gentle by his girlfriend.

“Such a shame. My own little love doesn’t find me sexy.” He grumps dramatically making her scramble hesitantly and turn to him in their tight embrace, cradling his face in her cold palms, “No. No. I find you sexy. I just don’t like sexualising you.” If Harry didn’t turn into a puddle before he indeed did now as he melted into her touch and kissed the inside of her hands lovingly.

“You’re sucha sap!” He whispers at her in fake offence and plant his lips against hers, patting her bum to make her hug him more tightly.

On cleaning and laundry day’s. He’s always helping her. As they scrub and mop the floors together, might fuck on them bubbly floors too if Harry’s lusty gaze remains on her spilling tits for too long.

“Thinks your floral bra needs a wash too, moppet.” His gradual attempts to lure her with his fingers stroking her thighs seductively always turns into a win when she nods shyly into his neck and let him have an easy access to her panties.

They’re always having a warm, full of essence bath together cleaning and washing the dirt off eachother after that.

Then sharing a cuppa tea while folding their clothes together on the bed and he’s always trying to tackle her into mattress when she laughs at his terribly folded clothes compared to her neatly binded ones.

“Your sucha menace,” He jests with his nose skewered up while he smacks her ass.

“Talk for yourself, Styles.” She retorts, tangling her knee around his waist and pulling him down into him. Puffing out relaxed breaths upon feeling safe and protected under his weight and Harry always smiles into the crook of her neck when she tries to cuddle him as if she wants to be his skin.

He’s the most daddiest when she’s drunk, sick or stressed.

Never letting her go out of his sight when she’s dancing on the floor with her friends. If some man even tries to approach her and breaths in her direction he’s sprinting towards her and pawing at her hips to situate her closer to him whilst blowing those potential guys off with a monotone expression.

“Harry! Do a lil dancey dance with me!” She giggles, making him sway with her and looking up at him with glassy floaty eyes.

“Bunny. ‘s late, time to go home.” He tells her, pinching her chin to plant his lips against hers and she squirms giving him a timid smile, “Okie. But I’ve to pee.”

“Me too!” Her friends chimes from behind her and Harry rolls his eyes playfully, gesturing all of them to follow him.

“C’mon you spies, not lettin’ ya’ll go alone.”

He waits for them outside the washroom while they do their business and he has his arms always splayed open for when his lovie comes back and he’s welcoming her in his embrace warmly with a sweet smile.

Dying with fond injecting in his every vein when she slurs and blabbers, “Home.”

Walking her up the stairs of their flat’s building is the most hefty struggle while she’s a sleepy, clumsy and giggly muck of doe gleaming eyes and swollen pretty lips drooling over Harry testing his patience while he makes her take one step at a time.

“Darling, bunny, just some mo' steps lovin’.” He coos at her, putting a firm hand under her bum and heaving her up into him so she doesn’t falls.

“Mhmmm you’re so pretty, daddy.” Harry’s head snaps in surprise as he stares down at her in adoring amusement and push her head under his chin while she slings her arms around his waist lazily.

Sometimes, she gets him so flustered he doesn’t know how to respond.

She whines and cries in dishevelment when Harry makes her sit on the cold marble counter and wipes her makeup off.

“I just wan’ to sleep!” She toes at his torso trying to push him away but he grabs it and tuts, glowering at her strictly, “You’re g'na complain in the mornin’. Sleepin’ with makeup makes ye' breakout remember?” When she still huffs and slumps giving him a hard time to clean her he’s pinching her chin and giving her a gentle jerk.

“Bunny. Stop with ye' battiness.” He grunts not letting his facade slip when she mewls stroking her cheek up and down his lightly stubble covered cheek softly.

“Else what? Y'never punish a sleepy bunny.” She smirks at him foppishly and lazily knowing damn well that one of thing Harry doesn’t do’s tease or punish her when she’s tuckered out and on the edge of sleeping on him.

“You don’t test me bratty woman.” She squeals when he takes hold of her panties to pull them down her legs, slapping her mound once discarding it in the hamper and he sighs when she’s already snoring lightly, slobbering his throat with her mouth parted comically.

After pattering her face with loving kisses he’s tucking her under the layers of blankets and letting her use him as her stuffie.

“Aw poor baby.” He mumbles, kissing her forehead when he finds her burning up against him and he’s quickly rummaging for thermometer from the night stand and the tissues he had stashed for emergencies.

“I don’t feel good,” His heart breaks when Y/N croaks out weakly and tries to crawl up his chest to stuff her face in his musky neck but her frail limbs gives out making her cry out.

“It’s okay bunny, ‘s okay. How but I make you some soup. Then y'take your medicines like a good girl of mine, then if your condition gets worse we’ll go to doctor, yeah baby?” He talks to her gently and sweetly, stroking her hair and peppering kisses to her temples.

“Just last bite, moppet.” Harry hovers the spoon infront of her and sighs when she shakes her head pushing his wrist away, “I’ll puke.” She sniffs blowing her nose harshly in the tissue .

“The bin’s right here, bunny.” He smoothens his hand down her spine putting the tray aside carefully to snuggle and comfort her as she cries softly against his chest.

“’M so sorry baby, you’ll be alright in the morning.” He couldn’t see her in such condition. It pulls and tugs at his heart so painfully he feels himself hurting.

“Oi. Why you crying, hmm?” He cups her cheek and makes her look at him as she skims her eyes away from him jn embarrassment.

“I —- You’re so caring and loving, treats me so good and it makes me c.. cr–-,” She hiccups finding it hard to breath and Harry rubs her back, whispering affinities in her ear making her finally sob, “Cry....” He chuckles softly pelting kisses upon kisses on her puffy eyelids, soaky dried up cheeks, her frowned up forehead, her wobbly chin and her nipping love bites down her chest then blowing raspberries at his own slick covering her skin making her giggle through her hiccups.

“I love you.” She whispers droopily, head lulling to his chest when the effect of medicine finally starts to kick in.

“I love you too, I want my healthy and happy bunny back.” He mumbles, inhaling a huge puff of her scent and squishes her lovingly.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry smut #cute harry #harry styles #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

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angry-geese · 3 years

Note

Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

#jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #not osha compliant #goose answers #ask!#anon #gojo is just very breedable

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

counter point, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You enrage your perfect boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, by being overtly sexual and inappropriately licking your kitchen counter. Why? Because you can and he's going to get horny regardless. He's going to chase after you with a spoon, so you better run!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; shower smut (fem reader, handjob, thigh riding, nipple play, marking / scratching, fingering, multiple orgasms, one pussy slap); too much wasted water, RIP; non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts; please help Jungkook, he's just trying to eat shaved ice, not pop a boner (he does anyway)

yes, the title is a pun it's the best laid plans couple and they're crackheads no need to read the first one, but it's there if you want more

“Don’t.”

You grinned at your boyfriend (Cheshire-cat-style, but make it sexy).

“Listen to me, do not do it.”

You extended you tongue (lizard-style, still sexy).

Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend currently making shaved ice, narrowed his dark brown eyes at you and barked your name sharply (angry-mother-scolding-their-child-style, but make it the hottest man on the fucking planet who you were down to get railed by every second of every day). His ash-blond hair flared out around his strong features, adding to his (horny) fury.

He could pretend to be mad, but you knew better.

You licked the kitchen counter.

“Fucking damnnit!”

You cackled as you licked the fallen syrup and ice combination that was on the kitchen counter, slurping up the fallen solider (a valiant fight, but Jungkook had missed the bowl by accident and he deserved an honorable death).

“I told you I was getting a towel!” Jungkook hissed furiously, shaking the white towel with the cute pink bunny character on it. “Don’t be a nasty heathen!”

“What’s nasty about our kitchen counters?” you countered (ey, yeah, see what happened there). “We clean them all the time.”

You leaned down again and licked the counter, pressing your tongue flat against the granite and making Jungkook growl, to which your responded with wiggling your eyebrows. He shook the towel at you again, but didn’t advance.

“Back, you fiend.”

You straightened and grinned, sauntering over to him and the towel he was using like a rosary and you were the demon he was trying to exorcise (he wasn’t pure enough to be a priest, but then again, that might be your fault).

“But I need the towel to clean up the mess,” you chirped, grinning cheerfully as you closed your hand around the cloth, holding it for a little too long, letting your eyes linger on his tense face, taking in his chiseled jaw, shapely lips, and flashing dark brown eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You smiled.

Ran your tongue over your upper lip.

“Like what?”

Jungkook looked like he wanted to murder you and fuck you.

(Not at the same time; that would be some serial killer shit.)

“Stop fucking teasing me when you’re not gonna do anything,” he grumbled, pouting slightly as you snatched the towel from him and wiped the counter that you had already licked clean.

“Who, me?” you replied innocently, grabbing the sponge to clean off the granite before wiping the spot once more. “I would never, ever tease you, Jungkook.”

He narrowed his eyes at you until they were lines and jammed his spoon into his shaved ice. “You never wanna fuck right after I work out.”

“Speaking of working out.” You pointed to his large bowl of shaved ice covered in syrup. “Should you have sweets right after working out?”

He clicked his tongue. “I drank my protein shake and I’m hot. Leave me alone.” He shoved a large spoonful into his mouth, still glaring.

(Oh, you’re hot, all right.)

“What a coincidence.”

Jungkook’s eyes shifted in suspicion as you spun around him. “Do I wanna know what’s a coincidence…?”

“I’m also hot.”

And you grabbed the bottom of your oversized sweatshirt (it was his) and pulled it up and over your head, leaving you in your underwear. You threw it at Jungkook’s crotch before prancing out of the kitchen.

“Alright, first of all–”

“Lachimolala,” you sang nonsensically, heading off to the bedroom. “I thought you wanted to be alone?”

Jungkook stomped after you, clutching his bowl and still shoving shaved ice in his mouth as he very loudly put in his two cents and pointedly ignored your comments (a skill he developed while dating you, mysterious why that would be).

“I know you’re hot, you’re insanely hot and that’s not fair, and, second, you can’t just take off your clothes and expect me not to follow you, and, three, let me fuck you, damnnit!”

You stuck your head out of the bedroom door and your tongue out of your mouth. “No. You stinky.”

Jungkook looked livid, still holding his spoon and bowl. “Don’t make me put this spoon down, woman.”

“Oh nooooooo, Jungkookie has a spoon, oh nooo!”

“Gimmie those titties! Get your ass over here right now!”

You ran to the bathroom and turned the water on, throwing off your underwear in record time, only for Jungkook to show up and get smacked in the face with your bra and panties (awesome, your aim was improving, all those hours playing FPS games was a sound investment).

Jungkook snarled and shook his head, blond hair flying everywhere, holding his bowl of shaved ice protectively as your underwear scattered around him. He looked ready to scold you, only to freeze and see you standing at the open glass shower door, fully naked.

Grinning.

(Checkmate, he totally wanted to bone you. His shorts were doing nothing to hide his massive tent.)

“See ya.”

And you slunk into the shower and hot water, snapping the door closed behind you, Jungkook fuming and crossing the space in two steps (damn, can you say legs, holy shit) and yanked open the shower door.

“You fucking brat–”

You smirked, water running down your body, tipping your head back to soak your hair, reaching up to slick it back with your tits up. His dark brown eyes ballooned to the size of Dragon Balls (those are pretty big balls, no cap). His shaved ice was rapidly melting from the steam.

A full ten seconds past.

(Kinda cold, bro, please close the door.)

You maintained your smirk, rolling your shoulders to cascade water down your body, down your breasts, dripping off your nipples, curling around the curve of your waist, streaming in rivets across the expanse of your thighs and ass, doing a little half-spin. Jungkook choked a little, eyes completely fixated to your body. You (completely unnecessarily, of course) placed a hand in between your breasts, splaying out your fingers, gliding it down your stomach, making a detour for your hip, sinking your nails into it (his bowl was tipping very dangerously now and the ice was half-gone), curving back to the inside of your thigh and squeezing your thighs around your hand.

(Okay, for real, you can close the door now, Jungkook.)

“Your shaved ice is melting.”

Jungkook started, picking up his jaw off the floor, and whipped his head to his bowl of now sweet ice water. He closed the shower door (finally!) and you breathed out a sigh of relief, finally wiggling under the showerhead to wash away the goosebumps and your frozen tits (you suffered for a good cause, but still), hearing your boyfriend straight-up slurp the rest of his shaved ice (it was practically a drink by now anyway). You pumped some shampoo in your hand and casually started working it into your hair before half-screaming as the door opened again and a very naked, very horny Jungkook invaded your personal space and pinned you against the shower wall.

(You weren’t expecting his speedrun of stripping, that must have been a fucking record!)

You blinked rapidly, trying to swipe the water out of your eyes.

“Jung–”

You didn’t expect to get anything out but you said one syllable before his lips crashed onto yours, spraying water everywhere as he half-entered the raining showerhead (still a bit stinky, tsk tsk), pressing his body against yours, jabbing you with his rock-hard dick (rude). You yelped in his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care (probably thought you deserved it, rude), taking your tongue and sucking on it, making you moan, driving his thigh in between yours and pushing it up, water suddenly gushing onto your heat and then hard muscle, you gasping at the contact, tipping your head back with a soft whimper.

Opening your eyes to a slight sting and Jungkook’s half-wet hair, dark silvery-blond curls around his smirking face, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Not so high and mighty now, hm?”

(Fuck, he’s so fucking hot.)

Your eye began to sting very badly.

(Shit.)

“There’s shampoo in my eye,” you choked out.

“Oh shi–”

There was a brief intermission of water torture as Jungkook shoved your head under the showerhead and you did the awkward dance of one eye half-open, half-closed, rinsing out the soap residue while holding your breath and trying not to drown (beauty, grace, and blindness, the trifecta, right?). You yanked your head out with a gleeful sucking in of air, pushing your hair away from your forehead.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked worriedly.

“Why is no-tears shampoo only for babies?” you complained, wiping your eyes. “Don’t they know horny adults get accosted in the middle of showering sometimes and need that shit? They need to put a warning or I’ll sue.”

He laughed, rich, full, and wonderfully sexy. “I don’t think you’d – ah!”

The second Jungkook let his guard down, you grabbed his dick (sucker), and started pumping him with a flick of your wrist, grinning wildly. He gasped and tried to back up, but you pinned his thigh in between yours and rubbed your slick pussy on his muscle, causing him to sway slightly and plant his hands on the wall beside your head, gasping your name.

“O-oh, fuck…”

You used your other hand to grab his chin and pull him closer, kissing him hungrily, a slightly awkward angle but it didn’t matter because you had him in the palm of your hand now (literally), jacking him off with one and the other stroking his jaw, shuddering at his tongue flitting in your mouth, snaking your own out to meet his, fuck, such soft lips, and he still tasted a little sweet from his icy snack lingering on his tongue. Your hand slid back and cupped his head, fingers in his wet ash-blond hair, rolling your hips on his leg and pumping his swelling length in the other, getting him extra hard again, both of you moaning at the lovely pop of the head being squeezed by your thumb and index, before going right back to furiously kissing as you increased the speed and pressure.

Jungkook always complained about how you never worked out with him, but you always rebutted that said workouts never started because you two were too busy eating face.

(Also, why work out when you can fuck? More fun, more pleasure, less hating yourself as you complete the thirtieth sit-up. Clearly, your boyfriend failed to see the logic.)

“Jungkook, ah…”

One of his strong hands around your waist, arching your back, kissing down your neck, matching your pace with his hips, moaning into your skin, raising his leg even higher as he leaned down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Now the angle was really awkward, but you refused to give up, readjusting slightly, faster, harder, his mouth all over you, sucking hard, whimpering your name, your arm burning (and he wondered why you had biceps, sheesh), and you clamped his thigh in between yours, the real pleasure being how Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back, your name tumbling from his lips, so sexy with his dripping blond locks stuck to his cheeks, tendons standing out on his neck with the strain, thrusting into your hand to increase the pleasure and your arm was going to give out any second now but you just couldn’t, not yet.

“So fucking sexy,” you panted, your free hand tracing his jaw, shoving your thumb into his open lips, sinking your nails into his cheek because he was yours, all yours, and he didn’t care if you marked him up, his eyes rolling back, loving your roughness, wanting it. “Cum for me, come on, Jungkook,” you growled, even faster, even harder, thumb pressed into his lolling tongue and he whined, deep and feral, a mixed gargle of your name and pure ecstasy, cock jerking in your hand, spilling out over your thigh and the shower wall, hot sticky strings before being washed away, you dragging his face to yours, removing your thumb to kiss him again, sighing in relief now that you could slow, squeezing his twitching cock, feeling it drip down your fingers and smearing it all over his now-sensitive skin.

“So good, fuck, you’re so good…”

His hands all over your back, running his nails up and down, ravenous, messy kisses. Your hand stilled, arm burning, but somehow it didn’t matter, adrenaline and lust too much, and you wanted to hold him too, snaking your arms around his waist and digging your nails into his broad back, both of you moaning in unison as your ran lines of pleasure across each other’s backs, hips to hips, wet bodies rolling into each other, your drenched pussy on his hard thigh and his spent cock against your soft thigh.

“My arm almost died,” you gasped, his nails raking down to your hips, sinking into your ass.

“Heh, sorry,” Jungkook snickered (you suspected he wasn’t very sorry). “That’s what you get for teasing me.” (And you were right, hmph.) “This is why you should work out.” (This guy…)

You raised an eyebrow. “So I can make you cum in literal seconds? Your funeral.”

He paused, shifting his eyes. He seemed to be mentally struggling with the idea. “You look so fucking hot in workout clothes though,” he pouted, leaning down to press his chin against your breasts.

Uh oh, Jungkook was giving you puppy eyes now.

“I can wear workout clothes without actually working out,” you frowned. “And you never let me work out anyway because you’re too busy ogling me, and then you jump me mid-squat.”

He groaned, kneading your ass in his hands. “Your ass just looks so fucking good in leggings though… and the way your tits bounce, fuck…”

(Hello, Jungkook? You could, maybe, just look at the naked wet body in front of you right now instead of fantasizing about working out. What is your malfunction?)

You yelped as he buried his face into your tits, tongue snaking out and drawing thick, saliva-covered stripes over your breasts that were quickly washed away, whimpers in your throat once you saw the hungry look in his eyes, his pink tongue now circling your nipple, lowering his leg from between yours, your hands flying up to hold his head onto your chest.

“Ah, Jungkook, please…”

His lips closed in and his fingers grazed your slick slit, pressing circles of pleasure into you, leaning your head against the shower wall, back arched to give more to that perfect mouth, moaning his name, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing it slowly, working you up, sucking your nipple and flicking it with his tongue, waves of pleasure and hot water enveloping you, pushing his wet hair back to look into those dark chocolate orbs, clouded by lust and his desire to make you feel good, already knowing that when you rocked your hips you wanted more, already knowing that when your noises became shallower, more needy, that you needed it harder, closing your eyes, faster, hot and warm from Jungkook and water.

“Yes, fuck, yes, so close, so good, Jungkook, ah, Jungkook!”

You felt the flinch of overwhelming ecstasy, immediately trying to close your legs but he blocked you, planting his thigh between yours to prevent them, your moan turning into a feverish whimper, clutching his shoulders.

“J-Jungkook, w-wait, oh, f-fuck…”

He wasn’t waiting, still stimulating your now throbbing clit, lifting his head to press his lips to yours, whispering hotly, you’re so sexy, so beautiful, I love you to so much, fuck, your brain barely computing language, w-what, oh fuck, yes, don’t stop, Jungkook, I love you, fuck, so good, his soft smile on your open lips as your moaned once more, ramming your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back, pleasure shooting up from your core, and Jungkook’s fingers plunged into your wetness, moaning with you, stuffing you with three because you were so, so wet.

“Fuck my hand, come on, wanna feel you…”

You heard hand (seriously? alright, your funeral, Jungkook), and enclosed your fingers around his now hard-again cock.

“Wait, w-what – ah, fuuuuuuuck…”

Your misinterpretation seemed to be a welcome development, your hips moving on their own, pussy clenching around his fingers, your hand a vice around his hard, swollen length, his hips thrusting into your closed fist, and now both of you just chasing pleasure, wet, loud, and hot, the water adding to the noise, skin on skin, your pussy making embarrassing sucking, squishing sounds paired with the rapid slap of your vicious pumping of his cock, feeling so good it was hard to speak, but it didn’t matter because your lips found his lips, and you could tell by his trembling inhale and soft whimpers that he loved you, and he could tell from your breathless gasps and desperate whines that you loved him, and all that made it more intense, better, sexier, perfect.

Your name in that silvery, needy tone, followed by, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

His name, followed by, “Shit, me too, fuck!”

(Maybe not your best work, oh well.)

You slapped your hips into his hand, burying his fingers all the way to his knuckles, and groaned, scorching ecstasy overtaking your veins, sparking up your spine and into your head, squeezing your thighs together powerfully, clamping his wrist in your softness. His cock jerked, his gasp in your face as he spilled again, all over your hip and thigh, jamming the throbbing head into your skin and moaning as his orgasm continued spurting out, pulsing, his moan turning into helpless cries as you rubbed the tip on your skin, smearing his cum onto you, his scent so strong you could still smell it despite the water washing it away, loving the way his hard, muscular body felt against you, shivering and vibrating with pleasure, unable to help himself, practically humping your leg to prolong the sensitivity.

Heavy, shuddering breaths.

Water tumbling down, somehow far too hot even though it was getting lukewarm.

(Rest in peace the water bill.)

“Uh… my hand…”

You tensed around it. “I like it here.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I’m getting a hand cramp.”

You bit your lip and clenched your core muscles, making him gasp.

“Fuck, I love how tight your pussy can get. Feels like you’re going to break my fingers.”

You relaxed, laughing. “That’d be a fun trip to the emergency room.”

He snickered and leaned in, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

You relaxed your thighs and he pulled his fingers out. “I love you too, Jungkook.”

You squeezed the head of his dick mid-kiss and he slapped your pussy in response, making you gasp.

“Brat.”

(Hello, you two, you’re wasting water… aw, shit, here we go again.)

2021.09.01 - birthday drabble

in which jjk attempts to direct porn and you proceed to clown him until he shuts you up by fucking your brains out well dressed

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Daddy Issues | Draco Malfoy

Wow I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disappear like that Lovelies! Sometimes I forget depression and writers block are a thing until they punch me in the face and force me to go MIA for a hundred years! I guess I’m back? I hope? Fingers crossed? Anyway, I’m sorry this isn’t a TVD fic but I figured Y’all would appreciate something over nothing. I missed you all more than I can say! I hope you enjoy, I love you all!

Description: Draco and y/n are best friends until Draco’s father threatens y/n. She avoids Draco until he confronts her.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: Like none, it’s kinda sad but not really, the only flaw is bad writing

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: Angst, FLUFF

(not my gif, I just love it lol)

Your heart stings from across the courtyard, the gap between you and the blonde boy tangible. For a second you don't know whether or not your heart is even in your chest anymore or if it’s in his hands. In that case your heart is sitting on a bench, sandwiched between Blaise Zabini and Vincent Crabbe. Maybe he isn’t holding your heart, though, maybe he is your heart, in which case you’re avoiding your heart’s piercing gaze.

Your hands twitch at your sides, itching to grab his or to twist through his silky hair or do anything other than lay idle when he is only mere steps away from you. Your hands ache to touch him and usually you would be doing just that: clinging to his robes or twisting the rings around on his fingers or simply tangling your own fingers with his slender ones. Your hands feel painfully empty without him to hold on to.

That makes sense though, he’s your best friend after all. You’re rarely ever spotted less than five feet away from each other. Everyone at Hogwarts can see how utterly entwined you are, every part of him wrapped around your finger and every part of you sitting precisely in the palm of his hand. You orbit each other, drawn in by a gravity that the rest of the student body can’t deny.

Right now, though, that gravity is being tested and everyone feels a little bit like they’re floating away.

Draco sits exactly seventeen feet and four inches away from you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, like lasers, searing into your black and gold jumper and refusing to look away. It burns but you embrace it, taking any contact, even imagined, that you can get from him. Even if it hurts. You would gladly burn for the blonde Slytherin if it made him happy. This doesn’t make him happy, though, being ignored by the girl that commands his entire life. You know that, but you also know that it’s for the best.

You run your hands through your hair, tugging on the strands relentlessly and closing your eyes. You see his father, the tall, grim man, and replay the conversation you had in your head.

“He has a bright future ahead of him, y/n.”

Lucious had backed you into a corner, both metaphorically and literally, the stone of the castle biting harshly into your skin, “I know that, sir.”

He stood tall, menacingly, like he was bigger than the castle itself, “he doesn’t have time for nonsense, y/n.”

Your hands trembled, the cold of the dungeon nipping at them fiercely, “he’s very bright, Mr. Malfoy, I don’t think I’m slowing him down.”

The neutral, if not cold, expression on his face switched then to one of red hot anger, “did I ask what you think? It’s time the two of you separate. He is to be married next year and not to some silly Hufflepuff girl.”

“We’re just friends, sir,” your eyes had long since found the floor.

“Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. If I catch you near him from this day on I will not hesitate to destroy you, do you understand me? Do not speak to him again.”

That was two weeks ago and you haven’t dared to go near him since, spending every waking moment of your spare time in the Hufflepuff common room. You aren’t brave, you didn’t march up to your best friend and tell him that his father threatened to destroy you. You would be lying if you said you even thought about it. The reality of it is that you’re a coward and have iced Draco out in fear of having his father hurt either of you.

His father’s words still ring in your head. Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. Your heart flutters hard in your chest, your rib cage the only barrier keeping it from finding him across the courtyard. Draco is infatuated with you. Apparently. He hasn’t said so, only his father. Still, you can’t help but hope that it’s true.

But then that makes your chest burn and palms sting again. You aren’t allowed to hope that Draco wants you. You aren’t even allowed to hope that he wants to be your friend. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, let alone allowed to kiss him. Would he even kiss you? Probably not. You tug even harder on your hair, as if pulling each strand out will somehow take the pain away. Don’t be daft.

“Y/n,” gentle hands wrap around your tight fists, “you’re hurting yourself.”

You forgot Luna was there, sitting next to you on the bench, the bench that is seventeen feet and four inches away from Draco. You let the airy Ravenclaw unravel your fingers and hold one of your hands, rubbing circles on the back of your palm. It doesn’t feel the same, her grip is too soft, her fingers too short. Draco’s fingers are longer.

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of him from your senses, “sorry, I know I’m not the best company right now.”

Luna only smiles at you and rolls her eyes gently, “I know it’s hard for you right now.”

Of course you told her. You weren’t able to tell Draco so you turned to Luna, your other best friend. You nod your head at the blonde girl, too tired to speak.

“I think you should tell him though, he looks bloody miserable without you,” your eyes widen as if on their own accord.

You feel dizzy at the thought and not the good kind like when Draco spins you around. No, this is the bad kind of ‘I’m definitely going to throw up’ dizzy. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears rapidly. Thump, thump, thump. It almost sounds like footsteps, angry ones, pounding towards you. That can’t be right.

“I can’t tell him, Luna, you know that.”

A hand lands on your shoulder, warmth spreading through your jumper. You open your mouth, ready to thank Luna for relentlessly comforting you, but close it quickly when a thought hits you. You glance down to your lap, just to double check. There, on your lap rests your hand carefully wrapped up in both of Luna’s. Crap.

“What can’t you tell me?” It takes everything in you to not let his familiar voice curl around you and pull you further into his touch.

You shift out of his hold, not turning to look at him yet, afraid to see the expression on his face. Would it be anger? Sadness? Disgust? The last one makes your heart drop, the thought of the blonde boy being repulsed by you causing you to curl into yourself slightly. You would take anything from him but that.

You stand curtly, turning to face Draco, all too aware of the lack of space between you and him. Six inches at the most, every breath he takes makes his chest brush yours. You still don’t look up at him, not anywhere ready to meet the eyes of the boy you’ve been avoiding.

You lock your eyes on his silver and green tie, mumbling to it instead of him, “What makes you think I was talking about you, Draco?”

You finally glance up at him and wish you hadn’t. His eyes, usually a bright blue, are dull and rimmed with red. The bruises under his eyes stand out against his cheeks. He’s always had dark circles but this is extreme. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he hasn’t eaten in days. It’s almost garish, but then again nothing could ever make the Slytherin Prince look anything less than perfect. He looks destroyed, almost as if his father had gotten to him too. You have to stop yourself from reaching out, choosing instead to look away again.

“Are you serious right now? Tell me this is all a joke y/n!” The courtyard goes silent when Draco raises his voice.

You squeeze your fists, the tone of his voice a punch in the gut. He never shouts at you. Draco is never anything but soft around you. Right now, however, he’s seething. No one around you dares to make a sound.

You close your eyes, trying desperately to stop a traitorous flood of tears, “Draco, please don’t do this right now.”

Draco takes a step back, as if your words had shoved him, “if not now then when? You’ve given me no choice! You run every time you see me, you don’t answer my notes. Do you even read them anymore? Can you just explain why you bloody hate me?”

His voice cracks when he says hate, like its acid in his mouth. In any way it’s acid to your ears. You could never hate Draco, it’s very much the opposite actually. You’re painfully in love with him.

“I don’t,” you have to pause to clear your throat, trying to rid the lump, “I could never hate you.”

His hand grasps you chin gently, his rings cold against your skin as he pulls your face up to meet his eyes, “then tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You squeeze your eyes close, sinking into the warmth of his palm for a moment. You can’t remember a time you’ve gone this long without the blonde boy touching you. You can’t stop the tears from trailing down your cheeks and into his palm. You can feel the hitch in his breath as if it had come from your own lungs. You wrap your own hands around his, squeezing his fingers gently before pulling them away from you.

“I can’t, Dra. We can’t do this anymore. I’m,” your voice trembles, your eyes still closed, his hand still locked in yours, “I’m not good for you. We can’t be friends.”

You release his hand, taking a few steps back from the love of your life. This time, though, he doesn’t let you get as far, taking two steps towards you for every step you take away from him. It doesn’t take him long before he’s in front of you again, closer and even more determined. His eyes burn into yours, his hands restless. You know he wants to touch you. At least, you hope he does. You want to.

“Don’t say that,” there’s a strength behind his words, one you have yet to hear until now, “don’t you dare say that! Tell me what’s going on y/n, you need to tell me! I can fix it. I can make it better whatever it is just please tell me. Please, love.”

Love. That’s new. Your heart cracks even more when he says it and maybe that’s because you know you won’t get to hear it again. You wish you could grab the word from his lips and hold on to it. You want to put it in your pocket so at least you can have a part of him, the very best part of him, for when he walked away. But you can’t, so there’s no use in trying.

“You can’t fix it this time, Draco,” you take another step back and your back hits the rough surface of a tree.

He fills the space between the two of you once more and this time you’re stuck. Your palms continue to sting, reminding you relentlessly how much you need to touch him. You scrunch the hem of your jumper, trying desperately to quell the pain. Your wrists feel like they’re on fire, something you’ve come to realise that means you’re about to have a panic attack. He can't see that happen, you refuse to fall apart in front of him.

Of course he notices, though. That’s your Draco, he notices everything about you. That’s his job.

He grabs your face again, stopping you from frantically looking everywhere but him, “of course I can. When have I not fixed your problems? Remember when those Ravenclaws’ were messing with you? I took care of that, didn’t I? And Parkinson? Zabini? I took care of them too. Remember when Snape wouldn’t let you hand in your assignment because you had the flu? And the time you passed out in the stairwell? I fixed those too because I can. Because I wanted to and I do what I want. Now, all I’ve wanted for days is you so if someone said something to you I need you to tell me so I can sort them out and get my best friend back. Now.”

He stares into your eyes the entire time, daring you to turn away. You feel like you can’t breathe, your hands once again wrapped around his but this time clinging for dear life. You’ve been terrified for two weeks and the exhaustion hits you in one, whopping punch to your stomach, the second punch of the day. Without warning your legs give out, all of your weight falling into the blonde who seems to expect it. His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest for the first time in what feels like ages.

You don’t realise that you’re sobbing until you try to speak, “Dra, I’m so scared. I’m tired,” you grip his robes in your fists, your head falling against his chest, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m falling apart.”

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him. You can feel the sigh of relief he releases and his heartbeat slowing as if it’s your own. Maybe that’s because yours does the same. For the first time in weeks you’re engulfed in Draco and you cling to him, circling your arms around his waist and pulling yourself impossibly close. He wastes no time either, wrapping his cloak around you and burying his face in your neck.

Your body shakes furiously in his arms, everything you’ve been bottling up comes pouring out in a torrent of sobs and hiccups. Draco presses closer to you, towering over you and shielding you from the rest of the world. You let his peppermint scent engulf you completely,

“For Salazar’s sake y/n I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I need to fix it, love. Please tell me,” his voice is low and choked.

He’s right, you know he’s right. You squeeze your eyes tighter and grip his back, savouring the muscles under his dress shirt for a few more seconds before you know you’ll have to let go.

“Your father told me we couldn’t see each other anymore. He told me,” you pull out of his arms, leaning back against the tree, “he said, well, it doesn’t matter what he said. We just can’t be together.” Draco’s eyes widen and your cheeks heat up, your words ringing through your ears, “I mean we can’t be friends.”

Draco steps closer to you, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes. He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear but you’re almost positive that it’s a curse. When he opens his eyes, your heart stops. His blue eyes burn into yours, glassy and angry but with something else too, something hot and fierce. Your heart restarts when he places his arms against the tree, caging you between it and him. You can’t resist placing your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat pick up as well.

“What did my father say, y/n.” He isn’t asking you, he’s telling you.

You lower your eyes, not bothering to fight him anymore, “he told me he would destroy me if I kept being friends with you. He said you were getting married and that you could never marry a Hufflepuff and that he would destroy me if he had to.”

He staggers back with each word, like each one shoves him more than the last. He squeezes his fists before straightening his fingers, shoving them once more through his hair. His shoulders are tense, his back straight. His eyes are screwed shut again.

“Bloody hell,” he pulls at his hair, biting his lip, “he’s lost his damn mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, tugging at your jumper, suddenly hot all over. Now is not the time to be getting riled up over Draco but you can’t help it, he looks exquisite. Messy hair and an un-tucked shirt, the veins in his hand prominent and his rings glittering in the afternoon sun. He’s absolutely and undeniably perfect.

“It’s ok, Dra, you’ll be ok,” you try your best to comfort him but he snaps his eyes open, looking at you like you’ve gone mad as well.

“My dad threatened to kill you! No I am not okay!”

This time you walk to him, pulling him into your chest again and wrapping your arms around his neck. He sweeps his arms around your waist, pulling you so close that you have to stand on your tiptoes to keep your arms around him. His hands grasp your hips tight and you immediately know what he wants. You oblige, wanting it just as much if not more, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his stomach. You tuck your face into his neck this time, breathing in the slightest hint of apples, green ones.

You don’t speak, practically feeling the words bubbling in his chest, “My dad told you he was going to kill you, love. He threatened you and he didn’t even tell me. I am definitely not okay. I need to do something. I need to talk to him. And he told you I was getting married? He’s lucky he isn’t here. I don’t care if he’s my father, nobody talks to my girl like that.”

He’s rambling, something he does when he’s at his end. His words wrap around you, tangling with every part of you and sinking into your skin. They lull you into a daze of sorts, almost nodding off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realise how tired you are until you’re in his arms, safe. And then it hits you, and you’re wide awake again.

“Your girl?”

You cut him off mid sentence, squeezing your legs tighter around him to bring his attention back to you.

“What did you say, love?” Draco hikes you further up his body, readjusting his grip on you.

Your cheeks flame, your neck hot. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something that you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give. His lips are so close to yours, his breath hitting your lips with every exhale. The courtyard around you fades away and Hogwarts itself holds its breath.

“Did you call me your girl, Draco?”

He doesn’t blush like you thought he would, “yes, I did. That’s what you are. Mine. And Merlin help my father for trying to take you away from me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, letting his words sink into your flesh. They curl around your bones, laying down a warmth that you’ve been craving for longer than you can remember. He’s right. Of course he’s right, he’s Draco. You are his and you always have been. His arm around your back tightens, jostling you enough to make you cling harder to him. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair. He leans his head back, giving in to your touch willingly.

He holds your gaze as your fingers weave through his silky hair, capturing you with his eyes and refusing to let go, “I’m yours, Draco. Please don’t let me go.”

He leans his forehead against yours, “never, love.”

Hogwarts releases the breath it had been holding, the noise of the courtyard once more fluttering around you. You go to get down from Draco but he stops you, tightening his arms. You only shake your head and smile, letting the sunshine warm your face.

Your heart aches slightly still though, “what are we going to do about your father, Dra?

He starts walking, the sudden movement causing you to tug his hair a little harder.

His voice is strained when he finally answers, leaning down to rub his cheek against your head, “just let me handle that, ok?”

You give in, for now, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes for the final time, “where are we going, Dra?”

“We, my love, are going to take a very much needed nap.”

#draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x female reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter #hufflepuff #slytherpuff #slytherin

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luvlyrv · 3 years

Text

Uncover | Seulgi x F!Reader

Genre/warnings: fluff, angst, homophobia (religious)

Summary: You quickly learn that while it was easy to be dishonest with yourself, it was nearly impossible to lie to Seulgi.

Word Count: 4.7k A/N: This has been something wracking up in my brain since June. It's kind of embarrassing that it's taken this long but it's a lovechild of my emotions. Enjoy, and I hope you feel things.

Date: 9/21/21

You can't imagine a day without her, because she's always been there. Right from the day you could remember. You bet that she could be your last memory too.

Your first memory has you sitting in the living room playing with your toys as you anxiously eye the other child in the room. Some strangers had rung your doorbell and your mom and dad had welcomed them into the house. Now they were in the kitchen, their voices blending into each other in the background.

The small girl in front of you decided to take the liberty of picking up your toys and playing with them. She ran around playing in the imaginary world in her head. You think that she's having fun and that you want to have fun too, but you can't seem to move from your position. As you slowly try to build up the courage to talk to her she approaches you.

She had been glancing at you from the corner of her eyes too. She watched your shy self idly playing all alone. She found it hard to approach you, scared of you pushing her away or being mean, but she thought maybe it was worth it. You could be a friend.

"Hi!" The strange girl is right in front of you with one of your stuffed toys in hand. "Do you want to play with me? I'm Seulgi!"

"I'm Y/N…"

For the rest of the hour the two of you chased each other in a shared adventure. Enraptured in your own little wonderland until your parents had to pull you apart.

Soon it became a ritual for those strangers, who you later learned to be Mr. and Mrs. Kang, to visit your house. Along them was always their daughter Seulgi, who wouldn't hesitate to pull you into a large hug right before starting a new adventure with you.

You slightly trail behind your best friend. You smile at yourself from the sight of Seulgi happily skipping, somehow filled with even more vigor than she usually has. She's always been filled with much more energy than you, amazed by even the smallest of things. You suppose something truly spectacular must be happening today for her to feel so extra. She turns her head over to look at you, flashing you her perfect smile with her perfect cheeks. The ones you always want to squish when you remind her of how cute she is.

She continues to bounce but slows down to be by your side. One of the favorite parts of your day, and hopefully hers too, would be the peaceful walk the two of you would always share before and after school. It always reminded you of how close you are. How you can always rely on her to listen and to brighten up your day.

She bites her lip while still smiling. She must be thinking about something.

"What's got you so excited today?" You ask her with a giggle.

"Guess!" She pesters leaning into you. A familiar feeling emerges in your chest from the contact.

"You know I'm really bad at guessing…"

"Well why can't you try?"

"All I know is that it has to be something really special, right?" You decide to lean back and push her a little as a tease.

"It is! Mom and dad bought me my favorite ice cream that we can share later today!"

You laugh at her as she continues giving her dumb smile. Seulgi moves in front of you with her eyebrows raised, waiting to hear your opinion about the news.

"Is that it?" You ask still laughing. She pouts a little.

"What do you mean 'is that it'? It's my favorite! And I get to share it with you!" With that you pull Seulgi in for a side hug.

"I'm kidding, I'm excited too."

You enjoy listening to whatever nonsense Seulgi thinks about and decides to spill to you as you guys continue walking. You feel a bit disheartened at the sight of the school building, but looking at Seulgi again is enough to make the disappointment go away.

As much as you wish it did, your schedule wasn't entirely with your best friend. Instead you had to split up as you entered the school grounds to your different classes. Fortunately you shared at least some classes with her, and most importantly lunch. So when you sit down at your desk with nobody talking to you, you don't feel too lonely. The anticipation of being reunited with Seulgi was enough for you.

As usual Seulgi finds your figure sitting down at a lunch table and immediately rushes towards you. She taps your shoulder as she sits down, hurriedly opening up her lunch box, her beastly appetite striking again.

"Oooh." She oogles as the both of you breathe in the sudden aroma of homemade food. You peer over to look at the contents of her lunch box. You swore that you can see the steam coming off of her rice.

"Open up!" Seulgi playfully demands of you. You oblige as she not so carefully throws a grape your way. It would've been lost if you didn't move your head to make up for the completely inaccurate trajectory.

"How are you still bad at this?" You ask her after chewing.

"Maybe I just like to see you work for your food." You laugh at her response as you carefully pick up a spring roll from your box and place it in hers.

"Mom fried it this morning so you better enjoy."

You enjoy the long-time tradition of sharing food and eating in relative silence. That time was short lived though as a small group of girls joined your table. You didn't mind them much, you'd even consider them casual friends. At the same time though, they were bothering you.

You found it strange that despite finally being with Seulgi you felt so lonely. So lost.

Seulgi's popular, you know that. A lot of people try to befriend her and fight for her attention. Being the social butterfly she is she never hesitated to say hello back and return the friendliness. By proxy you met a lot of nice people, a lot of not so nice people, and more. They never really stuck by for you though. They stayed for Seulgi.

You wish you understood why you were so bothered by those that stayed. Why you were always feeling jealous recently. You wonder if it's natural to feel so intensely sick when you watch your best friend's attention be pulled away by several different girls at a time, or laugh at a guys joke. Well, maybe you do know why.

You quietly sigh and push the thought away, instead trying to join in the chatter and laugh with everyone at the table. Just as you were about to calm down and ease into the group a sudden large group of guys and girls approach. One boy in particular seems to be leading the pack. You purse your lips as you silently watch them come over. Seulgi absent-mindedly continues talking, completely unaware of what was about to occur.

You tighten your hands into a ball as a feeling bubbles inside you. You can't place what it is. Is it fear? Anger? Jealously? It's probably both.

The boy also tightens his hands as they grip onto his shirt. You watch him bite his lip and see how a red color crawls up his neck and reaches the tips of his ears. You hold in a breath as he finally arrives at the table and Seulgi looks up at him.

"S-Seulgi." He barely manages to say her name aloud.

"Huh?" She looks at him cluelessly but gives him her full attention anyways.

"I like you! A lot! So if you can, please go out with me!" The boy's words spill out, as if his mouth was a floodgate holding them back. He reaches behinds him and quickly bends over to give Seulgi a piece of red paper, shaped like a heart. He probably wrote about his feelings extensively on it.

Your eyes had been focused on the love-stricken boy. It's hard for you to move your eyes towards Seulgi. You realize now what you're feeling. You fear what you'll see when you look over at Seulgi to see her reaction.

You notice that she's red too, the color slowly blossoming across her cheeks.

Why does this hurt you?

"Erm, ah, thank you." She says out of politeness and bows back. She gives him a smile and that seems to excite him. "I'll think about your confession."

He eagerly nods his head and leaves the table, happy with the results of his actions. The crowd around him seem to think that was a good ending and started whispering and congratulating him. You look back at your table and the girls are murmuring too.

"He's cute, you should definitely go for him!"

"I heard he treated his last girlfriend nicely. They're still on good terms."

"I've never seen you date before. Isn't now your time to explore?"

Seulgi just takes it all in and nods along with what they say. Your head hangs low as you pick at your food. You don't dare look up. You're scared of seeing Seulgi's face again. You're scared that tears will start falling.

It was like the weight of the world had fallen on your chest.

When the bell dismisses you from lunch you quickly go to your next class. You don't say goodbye to Seulgi or any of the other girls. You feel the light graze of Seulgi's fingertips as she tries to stop you, but you're too fast.

The rest of the school day is you trying to focus on studying, and when your last class finishes you're not sure what you'll do. Everybody leaves the classroom before you as you take some time for yourself. Breathing in and out, you mentally prepare yourself to face Seulgi, as if she was some type of monster.

As you exit the building and get near the gates you see a swarm of people with Seulgi in the center. They're probably there to ask about how she feels about the confession that happened. You sigh and almost contemplate leaving without her, but her eyes quickly find yours. Seulgi politely but abruptly says her goodbyes and runs towards you.

As Seulgi's figure grows nearer there's a feeling of satisfaction. It was like you had won some petty fight, and that feeling was able to erase the fear and nerves you had earlier. A smile grows on your face she reaches your side, your bodies automatically matching your steps. You enjoy the warmth when she locks her arm with yours. Not knowing what to say, you let silence fill the space in between the two of you until Seulgi decided to break it.

"So, do you wanna stay at my place for a bit so we can eat that ice cream?"

Seulgi's keys jingle as she unlocks her front door. You follow in after her, putting your shoes away as she dashes towards her refrigerator to retrieve the ice cream from the freezer. You walk up towards her as she hands one to you. Naturally, both of you make your way outside into her backyard.

Her backyard is quaint, housing a nice garden that her mother often tends and one large tree. The two of you rest under it, appreciating the winding arms of the apple tree that has always given you and Seulgi refuge. You enjoy the taste of the ice cream, perhaps the shade was enhancing its flavor. Either way you understood why its Seulgi's favorite. The refreshing taste and Seulgi's presence puts a smile on your face. You feel yourself opening up again as you guys joke and talk about your day in between bites and licks. By the time you finish eating your ice cream she had managed to convince you that she needed your extra help in math. As always you agreed to tutor her.

She argues that you should stay underneath the tree as she gets up to throw away the trash. You watch as she goes back inside the house, coming out again with a shiny apple in hand that was picked only a couple days ago. You laugh a little as you ask,

"Still hungry?"

"Enough for a little snack."

She sits by you and takes a rest on your lap. You brush her hair away as you look into her eyes. You can tell she's thinking about something.

"What's wrong?" You ask her.

"Well, I was just wondering, why were you upset earlier?" She says in a serious tone.

"Huh?"

"You didn't even say goodbye at lunch, and don't pretend I didn't notice you almost leaving without me." There's a hint of hurt in her voice. You feel bad for not keeping your emotions in check better, that you threw a fit over something so small.

"Well," Your voice trails off as your mind struggles to think of a response, "what does that boy mean to you?" You decide to ask.

"Oh so now you want to know about that too?" There's only a slight annoyance in her voice as she gives you an eyeroll.

"I'm your best friend, of course I'm curious." Seulgi huffs at your response. She can't blame you for wondering so she takes a moment to think before answering honestly.

"I mean, I guess they weren't wrong. He's kinda cute, and I know it took a lot for him to say that to me. I admire him for it." She said it in a casual manner, as if it wasn't a big deal. Yet for you it meant everything. And it hurt.

You can't control the frown that found its way on your face.

"Hey…" Seulgi quickly gets up from your lap. She has a confused expression as her eyes scans yours. "Hey, what's wrong?" Her voice is soft as she puts a hand on your shoulder.

Your chest is about to explode.

"Do you like him or something?" She continues to grip onto your shoulder with a confused face. She thinks she was the one who did something wrong. That she's stealing someone away from you, but that was so different from the truth.

"No, Seulgi, I-" You pause to think about what you're going to say. Something was about to come out instinctively, and you don't know whether or not that was the best decision.

"You what?"

She presses you for an answer but you're still thinking. You're thinking about you know you can't handle her possibly being close to someone else. To share all of her laughs with that boy. To smile at him and spend time with him. To do all the things that exists between you and her. Living would feel wrong if you were no longer the one she ran to and spilled her secrets to.

Who are you if not Seulgi's biggest and only confidant? The only one who could soothe her in her darkest moments? The one who understands every feeling and thought just by the way she blinks?

You're intimately familiar with the feeling in your chest now. You think that you know what it is too, but that doesn't make you hate it any less. If you could, you'd sacrifice every fiber of your being to forget that feeling and throw it away. To pretend it doesn't exist. But your wishes don't make it go away.

You can be dishonest with yourself, but it's impossible to lie to Seulgi. Not when she looks at you like that.

"I like you."

The words are barely a whisper but she hears. Seulgi's hand falls off your shoulder and you want to cry again. You said the wrong thing. She was going to think you're disgusting. She would never go on a walk with you again. You'll never smell her perfume again. You'll never hear her laughter again. She'd never touch you again. Never speak to you again.

Her mouth is open slack. Your eyes water and you breathe in, readying yourself to apologize profusely. To rescind the blasphemous words that slipped out of your foul mouth.

"I'm so sorry. Just ignore it. I take it back. I think I'm sick or something, you know, delirious. Just ignore it please. Please." Tears begins to fall down your face as Seulgi seemingly snaps back to reality. She reaches towards you, taking your face in her hands as her thumbs swipe away the tears.

"Oh my god, no, don't cry." She begs you to stop, but you can't.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry." The tears continue to make their way down your face. A horrible sickness wells in your stomach and suddenly it feels below freezing as you shake uncontrollably.

"No, don't be." She hugs you tight and whispers in your ear. "I like you too. So stop crying. For me, please." She strokes your back as you cry, hoping that the touch could settle you down.

It takes a while for you to register what she says, but as soon as you do your body seizes up. You think that maybe your everything, your soul, has shattered into a million pieces from Seulgi's words. How in the world could it be true? It couldn't be, not in this universe, not in this timeline.

Yet it was.

When Seulgi hears your sniffling stop and your body letting go of its tension she separates her body from yours. Her eyes are all you can see, and all you can see in them is pain.

"I'm sorry for making you worried." You felt guilty that she had to see you cry. The outburst at school wasn't great either.

"Don't worry about it" She reassures you by taking a hand in hers, stroking it with her delicate fingers to show you her affection. For several moments you allow yourself to breathe. Seulgi also took the time to process everything, and the two of you stared at each other with the new understanding of your feelings. Time seems to pass so slowly when you observe each other with care.

"Seulgi…" You mumble when what felt like years passed. She understood what you meant when she saw the way you looked at her lips.

In that moment you couldn't care anymore. Neither could Seulgi, it seemed, as you pressed your lips on hers and she pressed back. Greedily, the two of you dived in for a taste. Your lips on hers, her tongue in your mouth, it was something you needed. It was a flavor you could relish forever, perhaps this is what sin tasted like. Yes, this is what they'd call it. A sin.

It feels like everything has changed, but at the same time it hasn't. You still spend every second possible with Seulgi. You spend your time doing the same things. Yet everything feels so different, it feels brand new. Magically, it feels better than before. Is this the power that Seulgi has over you?

Nobody knows, nobody needs to know. After all, you're still Seulgi's bestfriend. Is there really anything different? Maybe just the tighter hugs, the kisses, and the alluring smiles, but that's all. Life is easy this way.

After bidding Seulgi goodbye in front of her house you go home to eat dinner with your family. You come home and greet your parents with a smile as you rush to join them at the dinner table. They share that smile as they take note of your enthusiasm recently. As you eat quietly for a while your mom finally asks you what's been going on to make you shine so much.

"Well..." You debate on what to say. It's been over a month since you confessed to Seulgi but you were still feeling high. You've been holding it for so long you wished you could tell someone. Why not them? You want them to be happy with you too. "I've been dating Seulgi."

"Hm?" Your mom asks you somewhat aggressively for clarification. The sudden stillness in the air alarms you. You look up from your food to see your mom staring as your dad stops eating.

"I-I told her I liked her and she liked me back." You say hoping to clear whatever confusion was occuring. Yet the look on your parents didn't fade.

"What happened?" You father's question sounds more like a statement as he sternly places his utensils down.

"What do you mean what happened? I just told you."

"What happened to make you like this?" His cold voices breaks a little as you notice his eyes tearing up. Was he seriously upset about this?

"You're joking, right?" Your mom joins in with an angry tone.

"Of course I'm not. Mom, she makes me really happy." You struggle to keep yourself composed under the scrutiny of both of your parents.

"Y/N. You are not happy. You're messing with the devil right now and he's fucking up your mind."

"Have you not been doing your prayers?"

You can barely fight for yourself at the dinner table. Your parents argue with and over you, about the causes and the whys. About the signs and what happens next. You cry as you watch your decision unfold into your nightmare.

You knew deep down inside this would happen, but you hoped and prayed that it wasn't true. Perhaps Seulgi made you too happy, too brave. Everything else felt like it was going right so you convinced yourself this would too. You've flown too close to the sun and it backfired. You should've never said anything.

As you try to block out the fight unraveling in front of you you could only scream one thing while crying. "Wouldn't God want to love me? Wouldn't He want you to love me too?"

The scrape of the wooden chair echos as your mom shoots up straight. "I will not house some heathen under my roof. Get out until you realize what you've done to this family."

It's raining. The relentless torrent of water against your body traps in the coldness from the night, leaving you shivering as your feet move on their own. They move to the only other place that feels like home. The only other person that feels like home.

Soon enough you find yourself in front of a familiar door, incessantly knocking. Muffled footsteps come from the other side of the door as you hear locks being undone until the door finally opens. Instantly there's a look of worry on Mr. Kang's face as he takes in the scene in front of him. He quickly ushers you in and shuts the door.

"Who is it?" A voice rings from upstairs.

"It's Y/N!" Mr. Kang yells back, and soon enough you hear a flurry of footsteps coming downstairs. Seulgi, in her tired glory, appears. She rushes towards you as her father went off to find you some towels to dry off with.

"Oh my god, what happened? Why are you here? Are you okay?" Seulgi's honey eyes are glistening with worry. She doesn't seem to care too much about the fact that you're soaked as she embraces you in a hug. Her body soothes you, its warmth penetrating the cold, wet clothes that clung to your body. You let her ground you back to reality before speaking.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now." You barely manage to get the words out. Your throat feels tight, constricted. Throughout the entire time the tears haven't stopped running down your face as it mixed with the rain water. Seulgi rubs your back as her father comes back. Both of them begin patting you dry.

It feels a bit pathetic as you have two people fretting over you so much, but you're too tired to move. Maybe not even tired, but rather stuck in your own thoughts.

"Go get her something to change into. Are you gonna stay the night?" Her dad asks after making Seulgi go back upstairs to find clothes. You just nod in response and follow her.

When you enter Seulgi's room you find her hastily going through her drawers, finding something comfortable for you to wear. After digging through her clothes she hands you some sweatpants and an oversized shirt, much like her own outfit she was sporting. Your hands are in front of you and holding onto the clothing, yet you still can't seem to move much. Instead your lips tremble as you look at the floor. Seulgi sighs as she nears you, unfolding the clothes and looking at your trembling hands.

"Don't make me dress you." She half-teases. When she realizes you can't will yourself to move a grim line stretches across her face. She wonders what has gotten you so riled up to act this way.

Carefully, she removes your clothes and throws them into the laundry pile. Her fingers innocently skim your body as she puts on the clothes for you, with you doing the minimal movements required to help her. Over the years she's already been more than familiar with your body, and the same for you with her touch. Although you can't vocalize it you silently appreciate the care and intimacy she demonstrates.

Soon enough she finishes though and pulls you towards her bed. Sitting you down she places herself behind you after grabbing a dry towel. She begins to dry your hair while letting you stay silent. Another thing you appreciated about her. She let you take your time.

"Seulgi..." Your voice croaks out as if you've aged several decades.

"Yes?" She stops drying off your hair, instead placing the towel down as she wraps her arms behind you and leans forward.

"They know." She doesn't say anything but her body is still for a minute. Afterwards she finishes drying off your hair, at least one of you can stay calm in this situation. That's what you need. "They told me to come back when I come to my senses."

"It's okay. Everything will be okay. We'll figure something out." You let her guide you down on her bed. Your crying had stopped a while back, but the shock coursing through your body didn't. As Seulgi pulled up the sheets and began to hold you you turned around and looked at her. You looked into the eyes that told you everything. Right now they told you that all Seulgi had on her mind was you.

So you think that you should only think of Seulgi too, because you can always forget about the consequences when you're with her. With a kiss on your forehead she tells you to sleep. She gets impossibly closer to you, holding you tight. Holding you as if you are her treasure.

The familiar trees and houses enter your view as you drive down your childhood neighborhood. Your fingers tap on the steering wheel as you listen to the song Seulgi played in the car. Out of the corner of your eye you see her smile at the thought of visiting her parents. It's enough to make you happy as well.

As you near her parent's house you pass by your own. It's been years since you've been inside, years since you even saw it. You're okay with it though, but your mind still wonders how your parents are doing. You wonder if the house is lonelier now, if they ever think about the sparse letters and phone calls you have exchanged and how they always were fights. Do they know you and Seulgi are coming to visit? Will they want to see you?

Whatever the answer is it doesn't matter. The only family you have to worry about is the girl right next to you and her parents. You feel thankful that she's your first love and hopeful that she's your last. Despite how many times your lives have separated you two, how you both dated other people and had your own quarrels, you guys came back to each other in the end. She changed you during your formative years and supported you as the two of you have grown up.

No one else can make you uncover these sides and feelings like she does.

#seulgi x reader #rv seulgi #kang seulgi #red velvet x reader #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #gg imagines #gg scenarios

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