#can you see the weight I’m wearing on my shoulders? each ones worse and stays a little longer
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be sure to come back to me
i love Nanamin so much it hurts me physically. i also love writing him as a normal (totally alive) human being who is in love and struggles with it sometimes. i’m a big slut like that.
wc: 1k (oops) cw: hurt/comfort, nanami is anxious and in love
Usually someone who revels in the silence, Nanami Kento doesn’t understand why he’s struggling with it tonight. You’re here, form fitted to his body like a second shirt. He knows you are here with him—present, presumably in love, alive. But knowing that doesn’t stop the discomfort from writhing in his gut like a half-dead fish.
Of all the things he knows, he is most acutely aware that this is the last night you will spend in his arms for a while. He knows that he does this every time—on the night before a mission, his strength abandons him, and he can’t beat back the fear.
Fear of leaving you. Fear of not coming back. Fear of not giving you enough of him. Fear of letting you see too much of him.
It terrifies him—the thought of his absences piling one atop of the others—a debt gone unchecked, a weight that eventually causes you to buckle.
Fear of coming home to find it completely devoid of you.
He’s left you behind countless times, and each time you are here when he returns. But it’s worse every time, because what if it’s the final straw that breaks you? He couldn’t bear it. He worries you can’t either.
But you’ve never complained. On nights before he leaves, you let him cling to you. You hold him just as tightly. You’ve never told him that you wished he didn’t have to go—he knows you do, but you spare him the guilt. You carry all of it, and him, like it is only a pillowcase filled with so many feathers. He adds to them, and he hates himself for it.
It’s traditional, in your adopted night-before-missions routine, to let both of your feelings go unspoken. To just be with each other. But tonight the quiet tears at him like the dullest knives and he can’t take it.
“My love,” he whispers into the dark, and it’s strained at best.
“Ken?” He hears you call softly. It is so sweet against his ears, it makes him sick. He holds you closer to him.
“I need you.”
You pick your head up off his shoulder at that, he assumes to look at him, though he can only vaguely make out your features in the dark. He thinks it might be for the best, because he knows he is worse for wear right now, and to see that reflected in your face would be so much more than he could handle.
“I’m right here,” you say gently, squeezing the fingers he has wrapped around yours.
“I know. I just—” he pauses, squeezing his eyes shut—fighting to stay upright on this ship, in this storm, “I’m afraid.”
“Of?”
“Everything,” he whispers, and it’s as earnest as it is broken.
You are silent for a while, and he worries he’s broken whatever fragile façade he’d been holding up. Worries he’s gone and dropped too much of himself into your lap. Too heavy, too heavy, too heavy. Carry it yourself.
“Kento,” you murmur, prying him from his thoughts. He squeezes your hand in response, not trusting himself to speak.
“I’m right here,” you say again—firmer this time, like there’s a point you’re trying to make—“and I’ll be right here when you walk through that door again. You’ll come home to me like you always do.”
He doesn’t know what to say, and even if he did, he doesn’t trust himself to say it. So he says nothing, but the grip he has on your hand is almost bruising. You don’t protest.
You sigh, pushing yourself up with your free hand until you’re straddling his waist, face inches away from his.
“Hey,” you whisper, prompting him to meet your eyes as best he can in the dark, “you can let go.”
And something in him breaks, because of course you know. Of course you understand. He lets go of your hand only to wrap both arms around your middle and pull you on top of him, his face pressing into the skin of your throat. You don’t say anything about the droplets you feel, gathering into the hem of your shirt. You don’t say anything about the way the breath in his chest stutters against yours. You just cradle his head like you are the only thing that can protect him. Right now, you might be.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, muffled and broken. He’d be embarrassed if he could—humiliated at the way one of the strongest sorcerers is reduced to a pathetic mess at the thought of his own inadequacies. But you told him to let it go, and he’s trying. Trying to do what you want him to. Trying to be what you ask for.
“I love you,” you tell him, and he lets out a pitiful whimper against your neck. So you tell him again, and again, and again. You tell him so much that he feels it settle over him like a thick blanket. It’s one that he’ll keep with him—carry with him even when he can’t be here, and he hopes it’ll be enough. He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes deeply and it fills his lungs like so much water.
When he opens his eyes again, there is sunlight streaming through the curtains, cutting through the dark and illuminating little spots over the curve of your shoulder. He finds it hard to look away, captivated by the push and pull of breath that causes your chest to rise and fall. Propping himself up, he can’t help but lean over to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He gets closer, breathing you in and pressing a kiss to your temple.
“I love you,” he murmurs into your skin, pressing his lips to your face again for good measure. You don’t stir, and he’s grateful—you deserve rest. He hopes you won’t be upset with him for not waking you to say goodbye. He's put you through enough—he considers this to be an act of kindness, even if it hurts you. So you don't have to watch him leave again.
“I’ll be home soon,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t miss the way your hand finds a grip in his shirt.
He means what he says. He doesn’t think there’s anything in the world that could keep him from this.
this fic belongs to me @b-writes-things. i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.
#HHNNNNGGGG what did I DO#sorry I just feel in my heart of hearts like this man is a crybaby and I want to [redacted] him over it#i am so feral over nanamin#nanamin#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nanami fic#nanami x you#nanami x gn reader#nanami fluff#BWritesThings
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just out of curiosity what’s your current d&d character like? My friends and I have been throwing around the idea of a wild west setting for a future campaign and I’m very excited.
Hi! Okay, so I play as Benoit Blanchet-formerly known as Wild Willie (the campaign as it was ended last night and any future campaigns down the road that continue Benoit story will be in the aftermath of the main story)
Wild Willie showed up to the starting point of all the characters as mysteriously as everyone else. 3 feet tall, 8 years old, fast as lightning. Willie is a silly little vampire boy with aspirations to become a world renowned cowboy (or at least his vague idea of what a cowboy is)
This is him in the first half of the campaign:
However, Willie like every other character was keeping secrets, and was worse at keeping them than others because 8 years olds who want to be the center of attention aren’t equipped to be mysterious. So it would soon come out that Willie is not his real name, and that he’s actually a young French boy from upper region of Canada. He doesn’t remember much about his family at this point but does remember coming to Canada in the wake of the French colonizing the area.
Then we got to Kinderfanger’s Circus, where Willie reunited with an old friend…William.
Before Wild Willie was setting across the desert at lightning speed, Benoit was an 8 year old kid in the woods, a little too far from where he should be. And when an 8 foot tall man in the middle of the woods decides he needs more workers in his textile mill that won’t age or need pay, suddenly you’re dealing with enslavement in textile mill with some fresh bite mark on your neck, and only another boy you share a patch of floor with to keep you company for a solid decade or century. You don’t wanna remember which.
But as a vampire you find yourself with a power that proves useful to you, and painful to others. You can run. Faster and farther than anyone else, you can run. And you do. Leaving William behind in a hurried panic one night, and running too far and too fast to make it back to him before the adrenaline of escape wears off.
William, still enslaved at a new business venture for old Kinderfanger makes it apparent what you already felt like but tried to suppress: that he sees you as a coward who left your best friend to rot.
So what can you do? You make it up to him by giving the opportunity to kill the bastard who turned you, him, and dozens of other children just like you two. And when Kinderfanger attempts to corral the children with his silver flute Benoit knocks it out of his hand, and William beats it into his skull into his own hands are charred and unusable from holding the silver.
Benoit attempts to put a hand on his friends shoulder while he stabs away at a corpse, hoping to calm him down and stop his friends hurt. William, out of instinct and pain and hurt, slaps Benoit across the face and continues. They do not speak anymore words to each other. William collapses from the pain and a group of children herald him as their savior and hoist him on their shoulders, carrying him off to freedom. Benoit doesn’t stop this, and continues his journey to save a friend captured by an old foe.
The sting of his friends hit doesn’t disappear. He sting of his words and the weight of everything he has done and been through sit on him. He believes no child could possibly feel this kind of pain.
For the first time in 119 years, Benoit ages. He is 14.
He stays with his friends until they find their old foe. And the corpse of their dear friend. Right before that foe plunges a knife into another, and turns to him.
Years ago he ran, guilty and afraid. Here, his body shakes. He feels an inevitability coming. He turns to another party member-one he could’ve almost called a mother
“I’m sorry.”
Benoit Blanchet has run off again. He knows his friends will be fine somehow. He knows he’s needed elsewhere somehow. It doesn’t stop the guilt.
He runs so fast the sand turns to glass and the world feels still. From Mexico, to Canada, where he finally find him slowed down enough to hit a tree. A familiar face picks him off the ground. With one functioning hand, William embraces Benoit. Benoit shudders, and hugs back. There is love. There is pain. There is closeness. There is a distance. It’s fixable. It’ll take a lot of time. Something they both have plenty of.
They were not the only mill like Kinderfangers. There are others, still stuck. Benoit, William, and a group of scared but free vampire children have a job to do.
Benoit doesn’t know what he is. But it’s not a cowboy. At least, right now. But he’s here with William, and he’s got a lot to do while he figures it out.
Worn and beaten, but ready to defend the children he couldn’t before, this is how he stands now:
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Tagged by @lazaefair. Thank you!!
Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.
I picked some favourites, but also some lesser known/read ones (all TOG, in order of most recent upload)
Jericho, My Moon
A black stallion is joined by his red twin. They bracket Nicolò, circle him. Their proud riders wear helmets of silver moonlight.
all things pass into the night
They’d found Joe and Andy under a white strobe light, facing each other this time and tossing their heads and hair as they danced. Joe reeled Nicky in by his belt loop and without even having to think, Booker used his tall body as a blockade between the two nose-rubbing, hip-grinding men and some of the crowd, downing his beer. Then again, wouldn’t have it been fun to have had to beat someone up that night? Booker hadn’t been presented with the opportunity, and before long he’d flown to the full toilets and dumped his guts onto the floor.
Axis
The spectre does not move. The fur does not even seem to breathe. It is as if the wind can’t touch it, there in its hiding place. It is fur, Nicolò can see that clearly now. Though of what animal, he cannot discern. A thought occurs to him, then. Perhaps this creature is a guardian of the forest. Perhaps he has angered it.
The Falconer
“You cannot startle me like that, with her here,” he said, and realized how impressively he was failing at sounding authoritative.
“In fairness, Nico,” began Andromache, tipping far enough back in the chair Nicolò could already picture her falling and pretending she hadn’t, “how were we supposed to know you’d adopted a feral bird?”
Heard a Joke Once
De Marchi was flattered at the praise, exactly what Sébastien had counted on. Flattery was one thing an artist could simply never resist, no matter their false modesty. Sébastien would know.
Young Man's Game
His mother hummed flatly, which raised the hairs on Yusuf’s head, but she thankfully let him be. For a moment.
“Have you put any more thought into Gamila?” she then asked, which was honestly worse.
My brother spits blood.
But before Booker can say anything, Nicky pulls out a key and says, “Come in and get cleaned up. I’ll make you some tea. When Joe comes home, we will see if we can reach Andy.”
Wordlessly, and suddenly feeling the weight of the previous night on his shoulders, Booker steps in after him and breathes in the familiar scents of spices and herbs, gun oil and linen.
Primavera
“Can I come with you,” Nicolò asks without preamble. He grips his seat on either side of his thighs as he leans closer to the table.
His uncle dazzles him with a fond smile, a proud smile. “Perhaps when you are older. If you go now, who will protect the goats from hungry giants?”
la mer a bercé mon coeur pour la vie
“If you die, I’m gonna kill you,” Joe jokes. Andy laughs to lighten the mood, but she squeezes his arm in reassurance.
Tangerine and Roc
The nightmare returned to Yusuf that night. He stayed awake as long as his body willed it, but inevitably gave into exhaustion at some point deep in the night. He gasped awake, sweaty and shaken by visions of the gnarled beak, his family jumping in. His hand instinctively sought out Nicolò beside him, who remained in his deep, unmoving sleep.
Probably double-tagging a lot of people buuuut I'm tagging @maddielle @captainshakespear @babygirlyusuf @nicolos @the73rdpostscript and @knoepfchen
#thank you friend ;w; this was fun and i really needed a distraction today#cringing so hard at myself though. the self-esteem is in the GROUND today#it is interesting to see where the plot was at at the mid-point of my longer fics! i tend to take a long time with my endings#also i didn't realize just how much i've written from nicky's pov ugh i really thought i'd given all characters roughly equal treatment#he's fun to wriiiiite#god i miss writing#sage writes
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I'll ask for an elaboration of Lucius and Izzy having fun with just Izzy's stubble after he had to shave his goatee...
“Down,” Lucius ordered and Izzy sank to his knees between bare thighs.
Lucius inner thighs were sparsely haired, the skin delightfully soft. Izzy liked to rest his head against them, soaking in the position when they weren’t actively in the middle of something, but right now he was very distracted by Lucius’ cock, a breath away from his lips. He knew what Lucius would ask him, so Izzy looked up at him and said,
“Please can I suck your cock?”
“Oh, we’re polite tonight,” Lucius grinned. He reached down, threading his hand into Izzy’s hair and pulling a little. “You want it?”
“So much...”
“All right, come and get it then. Hands behind your back. I want to just see those pretty pink lips spread wide. Can’t believe you’ve been hiding those from me.”
Izzy didn’t waste any time, folding his hands together at the small of his back and then taking Lucius into his mouth. After countless repetition, he barely needed all the accouterments of their shared act to get to the good place in his head. Just feeling the weight of Lucius’ cock in his mouth, the familiar shape of it on his tongue and the grip of strong fingers in his hair was enough. Izzy sank into the heated depths, completely turned on and also entirely at Lucius' mercy.
“Fuck, Iz...” A twist of his hand and Lucius guided him to take more. “Love this view...look at how beautifully you take me. So fucking good at this, should charge other people to come here and watch. Would you like that, my good boy? Huh? Let someone else appreciate how sweet you are with me?”
The actual idea was repulsive, but the way Lucius described it always prickled heat over Izzy’s skin. Some faceless spectator watching him please Lucius, knowing that he was satisfying this gorgeous man? How could that not be a bit of a turn on?
“Enough,” Lucius gave a breathless laugh after elastic long minutes. He drew Izzy away by his hair. “Oh my love, look what you did to me...”
Lucius’ thighs were chafed pink, blushed through with color.
“Sorry,” he croaked.
“Do not be sorry,” Luicus leaned down and kissed him open-mouthed and wet, “I’m going to feel that all day tomorrow. Every time I move, I’ll be thinking of that sandpaper stubble and your clever mouth. I’ll have to stay behind the bar or wear very loose pants.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yes,” he grinned. “But if you’re feeling contrite, you can kiss each spot.”
Which would likely just make it worse, but Izzy knew an order when he’d heard one. And there was something devastatingly simple in the worship of it. He kissed the up one thigh, pressing his lips to every soft sweet inch of skin. Lucius stroked Izzy’s shoulder, murmuring praise.
“If you eat me out, my whole ass would be red too,” Lucius said slowly. “Mmm...how about this. I’ll spank you to the same shade you can get me to.”
Izzy paused his task, glancing up at Lucius, momentarily stunned that Lucius would be the one seeking pain.
“I’ll like it,” Lucius promised him. “Yes or no?”
“Yes pup,” Izzy said readily.
Like he’d turn down a chance to both eat Lucius out AND get spanked. The latter had actually been a fairly late addition to their play. Izzy hadn’t been keen on it, certain that it would both be too mild and bring along a fair amount of bad associations.
Bless Lucius who never did these things by half measures and could deliver stinging blows and make sure Izzy never forgot who was giving them.
Lucius stretched out and rolled over onto his hands and knees,
“You better work hard then or you’ll barely earn five or six. You know you barely even feel it until ten.”
Izzy surged forward. Hands back in the play, he dug in his thumbs, parting Lucius’ cheeks so he could bury his face where it would do the most good. Izzy had no idea if he was actually good at this act, or if Lucius was just easy because as soon as the point of his tongue flicked over the tight furl of muscle, Lucius would always start moaning like he was dying for it. It wasn’t quite as high up on Izzy’s list as cocksucking, but he would do pretty much anything to make Lucius sound like that.
He put his all into it tonight, not just for the reward, but because he could still feel Lucius’ approving gaze as he caught Izzy’s shaved face, accepting and rolling right into attraction instead of the hitch of hesitation that Izzy had expected at a bare minimum.
By now, Izzy was confident in Lucius’ love and attraction, but sometimes the reminder was the most grounding thing in the world.
“Stop,” Lucius bit off after some time, his breathing really ragged. Izzy pulled away, catching his own breath. “All right...all right...unf.....you need to take a picture.”
Izzy hesitated, torn between going for his camera and asking for clarification. Forming a coherent question right now might be a little beyond him.
“My phone,” Lucius snapped and Izzy went for it, picking it up off the bedside table. He knew the code (his and Pete’s wedding anniversary), because Lucius often made him check his texts when he was ‘too tired’ to reach over and get it himself. “Get a good shot or how will I know what color to aim for?”
Izzy’s fogged out brain coughed up some muscle memory and he managed to get a decent picture.
And he found he could ask a question if properly motivated.
“Can I send this to myself?”
“Yeah,” Lucius turned over, landing heavily on his back, he grinned up at Izzy. “You just have to tell me if you make use of it.”
“I will,” he promised and handed Lucius his phone. He waited patiently as Lucius dragged a finger around the screen, made a considering noise then said, “Very good. That is quite a shade. You really earned it, worked hard. I’ll make sure you feel just as raked over as I do.
“Stand up then bend over the bed. I’m going to need all the leverage I can get.”
Izzy moved, bending down and resting his elbows on the mattress. He kept his eyes on the old top sheet that Lucius draped over the bed before they’d begun. They used it to ease cleaning up so often that Izzy associated the sea green shade of it with the smell of come.
One palm swept over his ass. Lucius always warmed him up first, left his skin tingling. Then it was the anticipation, the coiling tension of the moment before Lucius’ hand swept down with a resounding crack. It rolled through Izzy and he pressed his forehead against the top of his hand. The ring on its chain swung forward, knocking gently against his cheek.
“Just barely a blush,” Lucius said calmly as he aimed lower to catch the top of Izzy’s thighs. “This could take a while. I’m going to fuck you once I get you the right shade. Grind right into all these lovely red patches....mmm. Start counting the slaps. If you miss one, you don’t get to come until tomorrow morning.
“One,” Izzy said readily, his breath caught his throat.
He counted carefully, the number climbing up dizzyingly until he barely existed except in the palm of Lucius’ hand. When the blows stopped Lucius just dug his hand into overheated flesh.
“Fuck,” Izzy panted out, swimming in a chemical soup.
“That’s the idea.”
Lucius stepped away for a moment and came back, one hand rubbing over Izzy’s abused flesh. The other was doubtless wrapped around the glass bottle of lube, warming to body temperature. No matter what little bits of torture Lucius liked to devise for him, Izzy had never felt the touch of cold lubrication. He had no idea why that was the hill Lucius died on, but the care of it was almost as good as the pain.
There was prep and Izzy mostly tuned it out, only coming fully back to the moment as Lucius slid home, filling him entirely. Lucius’ hips ground against Izzy’s ass and it sent sparing remains of ache along with the intractable pressure of a diligent fuck. They moved together after that, the push pull spiraling through the both.
Izzy must’ve done a good job keeping count, because Lucius took his cock in hand and started jerking him off in time with his thrusts.
“Tell me when you're close,” Lucius demanded.
“Already there,” he admitted.
“Then I’m going to let you come, my lovely boy and then you’re going to turn over and let me paint your face. Understood?”
“Yes, pup.”
Once Lucius gave permission, Izzy came with a near sob, already half-worn through. But as soon as Lucius released him and pulled out, he turned over. Lucius’ clean hand cupped his cheek.
“I’m going to make such a mess of you,” he said tenderly. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Just...stay...”
It was no hardship to watch Lucius take himself in hand and stroke his cock. His thighs were still flushed a rosy pink, the same shade as the bottom lip he was currently biting and then heat splattered over Izzy’s lips, chin and cheek. He darted out his tongue and Lucius’ moan broke in half.
“Unbelievable,” Lucius groaned, eyes shuttered. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth so I can kiss you like you deserve.”
His legs were a little shaky, but bore up as Izzy went to the bathroom. He cleaned as far as he’d been told and returned to the bedroom with mint on his breath. Lucius hadn’t gone far, just sitting on the edge of the bed. He held out his arms and Izzy went into them, folded down in his warm embrace.
Izzy was kissed the way Lucius thought he deserved.
It was one of those days when Izzy could bring himself to believe him.
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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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Obey Me! Shall we Date?
Brothers x MC
Synopsis: Reaction to one of the other brothers insulting you
Lucifer
It had started out as a nice evening for once. Though of course that would never last with his brothers. Levi was at Mammon's throat all through dinner over some dumb figurine he was missing.
The argument quickly escalated into a full on screaming match, just as Lucifer was about to tell them both to shut up or take their pissing contest else where. You had chimed in asking them rather politely not to fight at the table.
Leviathan on his war path didn't stop to think before insults were thrown your way. "Shut up you worthless human and stay out of it for once!" Levi had snapped.
Everyone almost leapt out of their chairs in fear when Lucifer's fist loudly collided with the table silencing the room. "Leviathan you will apologize and go to your room." Lucifer said clearly a command and not a suggestion.
Levi now scared and embarrassed muttered a rushed apology to you before scampering away his tail literally tucked between his legs as he had been so startled by Lucifer's intervention that he had poofed into his demon form.
Once dinner was over Lucifer pulled you aside to ask if you were okay. With reassurance from you that you are indeed fine and didn't take anything that was said to heart he can go about his night without worry.
Mammon
It had been a rather stressful day for everyone in the house. Tensions were high and it resulted in Mammon acting as the punching bag for his younger siblings. Not that he really minded in all honesty as he knew they were just letting off steam and didn't mean anything they said.
Asmodeus was currently laying into him as the two sat in the living room. Mammon admittedly antagonizing Asmodeus into saying some particularly mean things as he just played stupid further annoying his little brother.
You had been an innocent bystander, sitting on the other side of the room just watching the whole spectacle before you whilst working on a school project. Mammon had something particularly weird in response to one of Asmo's outbursts which had pulled a small laugh out of you.
Though that had been enough for Asmodeus to turn his frustration on you in that moment. "Shut up you ugly bitch!" Asmodeus snapped but as soon as the words left his mouth the regret seeped into his features.
Mammon was far past playing now as he rose from his seat glaring down at Asmodeus. "Apologize Asmodeus." Mammon nearly shouted. Asmodeus was taking far too long for Mammon's taste to apologize and it was quickly angering him to the point he could feel his teeth grinding together.
Asmodeus quickly apologized to you after seeing how serious Mammon was before excusing himself. You weren't so much as hurt by the words as you were just taken aback by the sudden turn on you.
Mammon none the less joined you were you were sitting practically draping himself over you as he pulled you into his arms. "Don't worry MC the great Mammon is here there is no need to cry." "I'm not crying-" "Shhhh, it's okay." He would loudly hush you while smiling feeling better when he hears you laugh again.
Leviathan
He was sitting with you in your bedroom. Excitedly explaining the plot to this new game that was coming out and how it ties into the tv show it was based off of. Though Mammon who had been pacing around the room sulking was getting rather sick of Leviathan's consumption of your attention.
Mammon short on patience snaps at his brother urging to him to just shut up and get lost. Before Leviathan could retort for himself you had leapt to his defense.
"So what you are just as big of a loser as he is now?!" Mammon scoffed though the panic in his eyes was evident when he saw how upset Leviathan was at insulting his henry.
Leviathan literally hissed in anger at his brother as his tail lashed out behind him Demon form in full swing as he positioned himself between you and the idiot now backing up with his hands raised.
"N-Now Levi lets think about thi-" "Apologize and get out!" Leviathan roared his fangs bared to his idiot of a brother.
Mammon sputtered out an apology over his shoulder as he ran out of the room slamming the door behind him as Levi turned back to you. He spends the next ten minutes making sure you are okay.
"Levi I promise I'm fine." "Are you sure?" "I'm sure." "Are you sure you're sure?" "Levi please..."
Satan
Satan had been sorting through his collection in the library when you joined him. One thing led to another and now the two of you were working on using one of the spare bookshelves to turn it into your own little reading nook where Satan could put books he wanted you to read and you could easily browse your way through them.
Things were going swimmingly if Satan had to say so himself. He was happily chattering about books he thought you would like and was even more excited when you suggested a few for him to read himself.
The two of you so engrossed in the world you had formed between the two of you had forgotten that Belphegor was attempting to nap on the couch.
Satan had handed you a book and was beaming down at you as you exclaimed excitedly starting to explain how this was one of your childhood favorites when Belphegor yelled out in frustration.
The rage in Belphegor was painfully clear to Satan as his younger brother sat up suddenly glaring at the two of you with irritation.
"MC Do you not know when to shut your damned mouth!" Belphegor snapped as he stood to leave in a fury. Though he hadn't taken more than a few steps when Satan's roar made him turn back in fear.
Satan was unable to hold himself back as he flew forward tackling his younger brother to the ground his weight driving the air from Belphegor's lungs. The two wrestled for a moment both now in their Demon forms lashing out at each other, Belphegor attempting to throw Satan off of him by kicking out and scratching him with his thorn laced tail. This did nothing more than anger Satan further as he screamed pulling back his arm to punch Belphegor right in his face.
Satan was a half a second from caving Belphegor's head in when he felt you throw yourself on him arms wrapped around his neck as you asked him to stop.
He hesitated a moment as he listened to your pleas. Belphegor used this opportunity to squirm out from under Satan bolting from the room with a speed that was unlike the avatar of sloth. Satan would have laughed had he not still been boiling inside.
Rather than chase down his brother he instead turned to you holding you against his chest as he took many, many deep breaths until finally the calm returned to him and he could look down at you without seeing red.
"Thank you for standing up for me but please don't murder the others for me." "Not even a little?"
Asmodeus
Asmodeus had acted on instinct as he felt his arm snap out from his side his hand cracking across his brothers face. Even when his brother turned to look at him with a devastated look he couldn't help the anger seeping from him.
Asmo had spent the morning with you helping to assemble a new wardrobe for you with outfits more suited to devildom weather. Seeing as much of the clothing in majolish was designed with demon physic in mind, you had grown a bit timid in some of your choices.
Asmodeus was having none of that, wanting to show you how beautiful you are insisted on a mini fashion show in his room.
You had been loving it so far. Asmo taking special time to pull you in front of his full size mirror and point out all the best parts of you and your clothes. He was also quite enjoying the snuggling and cuddling between outfit changes.
You were trying on your last outfit, one you had been openly against initially due to its sheer fabric and open back. While in the bathroom changing, Asmo took the time to fold up your purchases slipping in a few shirts of his own for you to add to your collection that he thought you would like.
When Mammon let himself in...
The second oldest threw the door open striding in going on about something about Asmo hoarding you all to himself just as you stepped out from the bathroom shyly showing off your new shirt.
Before Asmo could throw Mammon out by the scruff he turned to look at you and snorted upon seeing what you were wearing.
"MC, How can you let Asmo do that to you? Don't you feel stupid dressed up like some old geezer?" Mammon teased not at all seeing the effect it had on you. Asmo could feel his heart clench as he saw your face fall.
"You don't like it?" "I mean MC you look like one of the pirate people from the movies you had us watching." Mammon laughed as Asmo stepped forward glaring up at him
"That's enough out of you, get out." Asmo snapped motioning towards the door as mammon gave him a confused expression
"So you can let MC walk around looking stupid? I don-" Mammon wasn't able to finish his sentence as Asmo's arm snapped out slapping Mammon across the face.
The impact sounded much worse than it truly was as Mammon stared down at his younger brother in surprise.
"Don't you dare say such things to MC when you dress like a total slob half the time! They will be taking no mind to the words of a fool like you!" Asmodeus all but growled as he grabbed Mammon by the collar of his shirt and tossed him out of his room.
Asmodeus was absolutely fuming as he walked back to you pulling you into his arms and snuggling you against him.
"Don't you listen to a single word that come out of that idiots mouth do you hear me? He wouldn't know a thing about beauty if it hit him upside the head." "You did just slap him Asmo." "My point exactly! He still couldn't see how dazzling you look!"
Beelzebub
The two of you had been cooking dinner in the kitchen. Really it was Beel's turn to cook but he couldn't be trusted not to just eat it all before serving it so you were on babysitting duty.
Even though it wasn't your turn to do anything you still insisted on helping Beelzebub with chopping and prepping things while he took care of the more labor intensive tasks.
Whilst working Asmodeus had made his way into the kitchen to get himself something to drink. You had yet to notice him as you were too focused on kneading dough to realize the brother was walking behind you. It was only when you suddenly whipped around with a handful of dough and splattered the avatar of lust across the chest that you realized your mistake.
The shriek that came out of Asmodeus startled Beel from his own work turning back just in time to see the anger flash across his older brother's face seeing his shirt was ruined.
"MC why is it that you can never do the simplest of things right?! Are you stupid!?" Asmodeus had snapped letting his anger over take his thoughts. Too busy trying to clean his shirt he didn't notice the tears welling in your eyes, but Beelzebub did.
"Asmo, you know it was an accident so apologize for yelling at them." Beel said sternly coming over to look down on his older brother.
"I think not! Look at the state of my shirt!" Asmo huffed only now glancing up to see you wiping the tears from your eyes with the corner of your apron.
"Asmodeus, Say your sorry." Beel urged as Asmodeus pouted pulling you into his arms.
"I'm sorry MC I lost my temper and I didn't mean it." Asmo apologized and Beel beamed down at the two of you happy that you two had made up.
"Group hug!" Beelzebub announced as he was already wrapping his arms around the two of you and squeezing
Belphegor
Belphie had decided that today was going to be a day just for the two of you. With enough snacks and drinks hoarded up in the attic to keep even Beelzebub sated. He stole you away early in the morning content to snooze the day away with you at his side.
It was nearing mid day when Belphegor was roused from his nap. He was still curled into your side as he opened his eyes seeing you trying to have a whispered conversation with Lucifer who was looming over the bed with a sour expression.
"Seriously MC now is not the time to be wasting about when you have work to be doing. Now get up and stop being so lazy, You think you would know better than to-" Lucifer ranted his voice slowly raising in timber as he grew more heated.
Belphegor felt his own temper flare just from hearing Lucifer's voice but then knowing he was harassing you sent it over the edge. Belphegor couldn't help the growl that started in his throat his demon form appearing before he himself could register it.
Without rising from the bed he felt the thorns on his tail bristle as he wrapped it around you barricading you from his older brother.
"Go away..." Belphegor grumbled glaring up at Lucifer through his bangs. Clearly not wanting to deal with Belphegor's attitude Lucifer simply sneered and strode off making a few remarks as he left though Belphegor ignored them preferring to you you down into his arms.
"Ignore him he doesn't know anything..." Belphegor yawned tucking your head under his chin. He could feel the dwindling tension in your shoulders as he pulled you close. Rubbing his hand in circles on your back he felt the unease slowly slip from you before he himself slipped into sleep.
He admits he may be over reacting with this next part but Lucifer's already poor sleep may be just take a nose dive with the ideas he was cooking up.
#Obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me x mc#obey me imagines#obey me x reader#obey me one master to rule them all#Is it super obvious to any one else this was written over the span of like three days lmao
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𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3
𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou @amjustagirl (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535
𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢
1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.
“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”
The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist.
You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet.
You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.
Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip. He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week.
“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?”
“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”
“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”
You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.
Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders.
You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.
Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.
“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.
He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”
You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.
“Need any help?”
Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.
“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.
Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.
“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.
“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”
Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward.
“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?”
You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief.
You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.
Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know.
Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.
(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.
You shoot him a glare.
“I fried this rice.”)
2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.
What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow.
“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.
“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.
You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.
He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.
It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?
However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.
“Having fun?”
You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.
“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”
His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.
“Do I really?”
“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”
You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds.
“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.
You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second.
“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”
You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to-
Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry.
“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”
“Kita.”
“Kita?!” you gasp.
Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants.
“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”
You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though.
The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat.
Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.
“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.
Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat.
Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.
“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.
“Atsumu just sucks.”
When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.
“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.
“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes.
Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.
“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.
In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.
The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.
“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?”
Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up.
“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.
“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”
Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”
Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.
“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!”
“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”
“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”
“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”
Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”
“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch.
“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled.
You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag?
“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.
“What?”
Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold.
“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.
His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest.
You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality.
“Oi.”
You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.
“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.
“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.
You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.
“Are you crying?” he questioned.
You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.
“Oi. Answer me.”
This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry?
“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”
You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked.
“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?”
You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.
“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”
You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.
“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.
The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.
“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.
Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.
“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.
You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.
“What t’hell, man!” he snarled.
Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.
“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”
Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.
“It’s not worth it, Rin.”
Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.
You were right.
Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it.
4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.
A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.
As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided.
“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”
“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”
“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”
“Good afternoon, everyone.”
“Miya-san!”
Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know!
You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.
“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.
You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable.
Wait.
You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.
“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”
The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy.
Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.
“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over.
You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.
“They keep bursting,” you sniff.
“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”
You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his.
“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”
Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them.
Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?
“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully.
He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.
“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!”
You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.
You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.
5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.
You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.
After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time.
Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.
You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.
“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.
“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”
“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together.
You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.
Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.
“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.
“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say.
“Are you okay?”
You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again.
“I’m okay.”
“That’s good.”
It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies.
“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”
You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron.
Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.
But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?
“Osamu,” you breathe.
His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree.
“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.
“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”
“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”
“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”
“A little is better than nothin’.”
“You’re my brother’s friend.”
“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”
Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?
A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved.
By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed.
“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes.
He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.
“Yeah, really.”
A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.
“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?”
You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger.
You giggle.
Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.
6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.
“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.
Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order.
The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway.
Another long day ahead, you think to yourself.
“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!”
Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”
The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!”
A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.
You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.
Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years.
“Come back soon!”
The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).
A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight.
“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”
You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.
“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.
“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.
Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.
Your heart soars in your chest.
Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it.
7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.
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supermodel | jjk
the last three months have been hell for you, but Jungkook seemed to be living his best life.
pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader
warnings: explicit mentions of body image and insecurities, infidelity, anal sex, oral (male receive), foul language (kinda), etc.
now playing: supermodel by sza
part two part three
Exactly three months ago, your and Jungkook’s 2 years relationship officially ended. Unofficially, it ended about 5 months ago. And for about one month now, Jungkook’s been seeing someone else.
Your heart and mind told you not to do it but you couldn’t help calculating. Three months ago, you were still dating, two months later, he started dating someone else. That must mean he’s known her for a while. Did he cheat on you with her? Well, it’s not like it matters now anyway, does it?
Her name was Yuki, an undeniable Japanese beauty. You were still in college, studying music and she was a famous model who appeared in internationally known magazines. You assumed she met Jungkook during a photoshoot since he was a professional photographer who often worked for companies like Vogue and Playboy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her.
It wasn’t the fact that he moved on so quickly that hurt you the most. It was the fact that he knew all about your low self-esteem and how you lack confidence. Especially about your body. And he still went and dated a model, of all professions in the world. He was definitely over you.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he did it on purpose. But thankfully, you knew better, he looked too happy for that to be even considered. He forgot about you.
You’re making yourself sadder by remembering all the times he assured you you were beautiful and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. The times he let his fingertips run over the lines of your stretch marks, whispering in your ear how much he loved them and how they reminded him of Tiger stripes. The times he caressed your jiggly thighs and told you how sexy he thought they were.
Then your mind would drift back to the phone in your hand, the Instagram page of Yuki Sakurai opened, careful not to accidentally like anything and expose yourself. Not that she’d notice anyway, she had 3.7 million followers, while you had a private one with 500 followers and no posts, and she gets around 300 to 700 thousand likes on each post, depending on whether she posts random photos or pretty pictures of herself. Or newly, your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Oh, how crazy everybody goes whenever she posts him. People love them together. You couldn’t blame them. Two attractive people? Of course, they’re gonna look great together.
Fucking great.
That the end of your relationship with Jungkook would look like this was semi-predictable from the beginning. He did admit to you that he never thought he’d date someone that looked like you when you first dated. And your heart broke a little. But he also made up for it in those two years, it was a beautiful relationship nonetheless.
While you weren’t exactly his ‘ideal’ type, he was definitely yours. You always heard from other women ‘when in a relationship, the man always has to love the woman more than she loves him. Otherwise, it won’t work.’ You never really got the saying until your breakup with Jungkook happened. It was the fact that you clearly loved Jungkook more than he loved you that lead to this.
“Oh my goodness!”, your roommate, Jane, dramatically exclaimed. “Will you stop feeling bad for yourself and do something? That’s not what hot girls do, sis.”
Jane was a lovely girl with a not so lovely temper. She always means well and you got along perfectly as soon as you met. Which was around 3 and a half years ago.
She looked over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. You obviously didn’t want her to see you snooping around your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s Instagram but it was too late.
“Seriously, yn?”, she took your phone in her hand and threw it on the bed. “Let’s go somewhere, you can’t do this to yourself anymore. I’m not letting you.”
Jane was clearly worried about you at this point. The only thing you did these last few weeks was eating, shower, cry, sleep and miss a whole bunch of classes. This wasn’t good at all.
“Where?”, your question was short.
“To the mall? Or the nail studio? Anything that’ll get you out of this fucking dormitory.”, Jane sighed, pulling the blanket off of you, making you whine a little. “C’mon, go put on some cute outfit and we’ll go.”
You felt bad since she was trying hard to make you feel better. But it didn’t really work.
You nodded, standing up from the bed, nonetheless. You picked out a cute two-piece dress, that brought back blurred memories of the time you went on a date with Jungkook, wearing the same two-piece. Bet Yuki would look cuter in this...
‘Shut your petty ass up, yn. It’s embarrassing, the way you’re stuck on a taken guy who wants nothing to do with you’
You wish you could change the way you think, even if it’s just for an hour or two. You wish you would stop imagining Jungkook judging you when he saw you naked or when you told him that you wished you could cut off some of your fat with a pair of scissors.
You were beyond ashamed of yourself. Why wasn’t it easy for you to just stay by yourself? why were you so desperately in need of Jungkook by your side to the point where you’d lock yourself in your room for a month just because he isn’t there?
You needed Jungkook. You became so attached to him in those two years, because you always saw him as a permanent, a forever. Not just a temporary, not just a distant memory. You already saw him as the father of your children, as the man you’re gonna marry.
You were so blinded by the fact that you had him, that you forgot you could lose him anytime.
“I’m done, let’s go.”, unenthusiastically, you announced to Jane, who was already waiting for you.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here!”, In contrast to your spirit, hers seemed to be all roses and daisies. “Lord knows you need it...”
__________
“Look at this cute ass skirt, girl”, Jane pointed at a chic, wine mini skirt she was holding. “You know, when I saw it back there I wanted to have it, but it’d look so much better on you”
You took a few seconds to admire Jane’s beauty. She was about 3 cm taller than you, had a great posture, and almond, dark brown eyes that suited her dark skin tone perfectly. Her body leaned more towards the slimmer side.
“Shut up! No, it would not”, you let out a small giggle. “It would look gorgeous on you, buy it.”
She smiled a little at your laughs. She was happy to see you at least a little cheerful again. “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on you. I’m entitled to my own opinion, am I not?”
You knew this debate was gonna go back and forth, because of her stubbornness. “Let’s both buy the skirt.”
You ended up doing so, added by a bunch of bags full of clothing. This may’ve turned into your new coping mechanism. Who needed therapy when you can go on a shopping spree?
Two hours were spent in boutiques and clothing stores and Jane decided she was tired, wanting to visit the local spa.
“No, seriously, these Riverdale seasons just keep on getting worse and worse. Netflix needs to step up their game ASAP”, Jane ranted, making you laugh at how serious she takes it. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m being for real.”
The two of you were sitting in the whirlpool at the spa, relaxing your whole bodies a little.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t watch these new Netflix shows anyways. Been stuck on the vampire diaries for the last 7 years”, you chuckled, knowing you hated trying new things. “Can you pass me one of those magazines?”
Jane nodded, grabbing a random one from the table next to her and handed it to you, without looking at it.
The cover of it caught your eyes immediately. How could it not, when your ex’s new girl looks absolutely dazzling on the front page of it.
‘Supermodel Yuki Sakurai talks summer fashion tips, struggle with self-love and most importantly, her hot, new boyfriend the media is going crazy over’ was the headline of the Harper’s Bazaar Magazine cover.
You felt your stomach getting sick and your breath getting heavier, but you still flipped the pages until you found the one with her interview. You began reading it, skipping the boring parts.
‘Int: so, we see you have a new boyfriend. Tell us, how did you guys meet?
Yuki: Yeah, he’s an amazing guy. We actually met about six or five months ago at one of my photoshoots, since he’s a photographer and we exchanged numbers and stuff, and then we made it official mid last month.’
About six or five months ago? You were with him back then, but her answer was too unclear to find out if he cheated or not.
“Woah, yn, you okay?”
You entirely forgot about the fact that you were with Jane, let alone somewhere other than your bed.
Before you could react, Jane snatched the magazine out of your hand.
“You really can’t escape them, huh?”, She sighs, taking you in her arm. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. In a few months, you’re gonna look back to this and think wow I really was stuck on a guy who’s scared of microwaves and cried like a bitch when Iron Man died.”
You laughed, punching her arm playfully. “You know, I actually love these things about him. Shows his sensitivity and the way he perceives things.”
Jane looked at you as if she didn’t believe you were actually saying that stuff. “Girl, you’re overanalyzing this. Let’s just throw this shit in the trash, okay?”
She put the magazine aside.
“I just don't know what I did wrong.”, You murmured. “I know we weren't the best, but we didn't even fight that much. We could’ve talked it through.”
Jane pursed her lips and cooed. “You know, relationships are complicated sometimes. The reason why he broke up, to begin with, is probably not your fault.”
“Well, what if it is? I mean what if I was too fat or too ugly for him?”, you asked. “If he wanted a skinny girl so bad, I could’ve lost weight for him, I don’t get it.”
Jane looked at you like you lost your mind entirely. “I can’t believe you just said that! Even if that was the reason, which it wasn’t, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer because of it. That’s his loss. You’re beyond gorgeous and you have an amazing body.”
“You’re just saying that.”, tears slowly started coming up in your eyes. “But the thing is Jungkook knows all about my insecurities. Why would he do that to me? I know he knows that I’m still not over him.”
You usually didn’t like crying in front of other people, but you didn’t really care at the moment, besides that was Jane. You trusted her with your life.
“Girl, men are trash, I can’t believe you’re crying over one right now, seriously.”, she wiped your tears and held your face between her hands. “You know, honestly, I’ve read so many articles about how models actually hate themselves and have like the lowest self-esteem so in conclusion, no matter how miserable you are, his new girl is even more miserable.”
You knew Jane didn’t mean it in a harmful way, but it sounded harsher than needed. “I don’t hate her, she probably doesn’t even know about me. I’m just really insecure. He upgraded from me. He’s dating a whole model now.”
The situation just felt like a deja vu of these last few weeks laying in your bed, even though you were at the spa with your friend. You were supposed to have fun, yet you didn’t feel like having any.
“Why would you feel insecure when all you’ve seen of her are Instagram posts and red carpet pictures? She’s supposed to look beautiful, it’s her job.”
To a certain extent, Jane was right, but that didn’t really help your situation, you still felt bad about yourself. You stayed silent.
“C’mon, this isn’t fun anymore. Let’s leave.”, Jane mumbled.
_______
it’s been two days since the incident at the spa and you felt a little bit better now.
Those days were spent reading the same three book series you’ve read your entire life, overthinking, hot Cheetos, Indian takeout, and Netflix. It really wasn’t as miserable as it sounded.
You were just taking a little rest before term break ends and you have to go back to the shithole college again.
Jane was using the time until college starts again, but in different ways than you were. She was planning on going to some frat party in an hour and forget about the world’ for a minute. Or till 4 in the morning, where she will most likely drunk call you and ask you for a ride back to the dorms, because the friends she went to the party with were shit-faced as well and were in no way capable of driving anywhere without the cops stopping them.
Going out partying on a Friday night was a Jane tradition. In the past, you’d sometimes go with her, but you mostly spent your time out with Jungkook doing something more fun than partying could ever be. Now you can’t do that anymore, but laying in bed is more ideal than a party for you at the moment.
“How do I look?”, Jane twirled around to show off her black cocktail dress. She looked beautiful.
“You look beautiful.”, you responded to her question. “Are you leaving now?”
“Hm”, she said, to which you nodded. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s gonna be really fun.”
You shook your head no.
“Alright”, she shrugged, making her way out of your bedroom. “But I told you, it’s gonna be fun.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll stay here, I have shit to do.”
“Yeah, right, like binge-watching the vampire diaries and taking 5-hour naps”, she said in a sarcastic tone. “Anyway, bye-bye, Vic’s already waiting for me in the car.”
Victoria was perhaps one of the most obnoxious people you know, yet she was too much of a nice person for you to talk shit about her. The voice of your intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but to, though.
“Alright, bye, take care and say hi to Vic from me.”
After Jane left, an hour went by like it was just a couple of minutes. You were starting to get real bored and decided to watch some regular tv in hopes to find something you enjoy. You ended up not finding anything fun, but you still watched it, because you didn’t have anything else to do.
A few moments later, the doorbell rang and you were suddenly worried. Either this is a serial killer or Jane forgot something.
But to your surprise, it was neither, but it was none other than
“Jungkook?”, truly, those were the only words you were able to mutter out at your shocked state. “What are you do-“
At the speed of light, you were interrupted by your ex-boyfriend pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t say a word.
You weren’t expecting him. Not knowing how you were supposed to feel at the moment, you just let it happen. You were sure your mental state couldn’t get any worse than that, no matter how this will affect you in the end.
“Is Jane home?”, for the first time in 3 months, you’re hearing his silky voice again.
Jungkook knew Jane always had some type of special hatred for him with her killing stares and her bitter comments. You didn’t notice either though.
He also knew she must hate him even more after your breakup. Or maybe she liked him more now since she was able to get rid of him without killing anyone.
“No”, your answer was short and it made a weight fall from Jungkook’s shoulders before he continued kissing you.
It wasn’t anything you haven’t done before, yet it felt like it’s been ages since it last happened. Your mind drifted to the thought of Jungkook and his model girlfriend. You were asking yourself what their sex life was like, if she was tighter than you or if she had stretch marks and scars.
Jungkook’s lips were moving south, giving your neck wet kisses, while you were wondering why he broke up with his model girlfriend. Or if he even did. You felt selfish for not caring.
Removing your clothes one by one, you were left in your underwear, while Jungkook only had his boxers on.
This body was yours. You knew it inside out. Where he liked to get touched and where he preferred not to. You knew him better than anyone else. You were sure.
You already moved to your bedroom, since Jungkook effortlessly carried you there. You were sat on his lap, facing him and your hands were in his messy hair. His hands were around your waist, he was slightly smiling into the kiss, as you started grinding on him. He loved how easy it was for him to turn you on. You were still his.
Cutting off the kiss, he looked you in the eyes, while his hand was on your cheek. “Say aah.”, he said.
You widened your mouth obediently, which was followed by him collecting as much saliva as he could in his mouth and spitting it into your mouth.
“Swallow.”, demanding, he spit on your face, his eyes become darker with every passing moment. You did as he said.
You looked at him with big eyes. He knew you loved it. You’ve always had a thing for him degrading and humiliating you during sex.
He started grinding on you almost desperately. You knew exactly what he wanted.
Getting out of his grip, you dropped to your knees and freed his hard dick from his drawers. You reached for it and started pumping it, and licking it. Your spit was leaking down his dick as you used it for lubrication. Then you started sucking on it, just the way you used to.
Jungkook’s groans and satisfied sighs were enough to make you even wetter than before. You enjoyed giving more than receiving.
Your mouth was wet and warm around him, giving him a feeling of familiarity. You lick over the tip a few times, then proceed to fully take him into your mouth.
The bulge in your throat could be seen and the way your eyes were tearing up a little wasn’t bothering you at all. You loved giving.
Jungkook started thrusting in and out of your warm, welcoming mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat multiple times.
“Fuck”, a throaty moan left Jungkook’s mouth, giving you hints that he was about to cum. And he did, releasing in your mouth before you swallowed it. “Shit, baby, that was so good.”
You felt your face heat up and a sheepish smile made its way to your face. Your throat was sore.
The two of you were on the bed again. To you, it felt like it was the times before your breakup again, when you’d purposely start an argument just for the makeup sex because Jungkook wasn’t giving you any anymore. It was like sex was the only thing to look forward to.
You felt attached to Jungkook to a point where it was dangerous. You weren’t okay when he wasn’t around. He affected every part of your life and God knew it wasn’t always a positive thing. Maybe it was the fact that he took your virginity. Maybe because he was your first boyfriend, the first guy that made you believe you were worthy of love and that someone was actually capable of loving you. One thing you knew was Jungkook had an expansive influence on your life.
While you were practically drowning in your own thoughts, Jungkook was busy taking off your underwear.
“You okay?”, Jungkook calmly asked you, looking at your riddled face.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.”, you sounded distracted, Jungkook wasn’t sure about asking you what it is though. He didn’t feel like getting personal.
So he shrugged it off and started kissing you again, his dick was unsurprisingly hard again as he played with your tits. He drew lines over the stretch marks of your thighs and kissed them.
“Can I fuck your ass?”, Jungkook’s raspy, tired-sounding voice casually asked, to which you quickly nodded, knowing that Jungkook’s favorite position had always been anal. He was massaging and gripping your ass firmly.
“This is gonna hurt at first, but I promise it gets better.”, He warned calmly into your ear, while putting some lube on his dick and just went right into your ass, slowly thrusting so you don’t feel as much pain.
He was right, it did hurt a lot when he first put it in, but the pain just changed into pleasure in a matter of time and his slow-paced thrusts helped with the adjustment.
“Fuck, I missed this ass”, he practically growled into your ear, as he kept on thrusting in and out, steadily gripping your wide hips with his big, veiny hands. “It just doesn’t feel right when I’m inside her ass.”
You knew your confidence shouldn’t rely on Jungkook bringing his girlfriend down, but you couldn’t help but feel good about your body when he said that. It’s been a while since you felt even a tiny spark of confidence. You weren’t so fond of him mentioning her while he was inside of you.
Your soft moans rang through the whole room like sirens, while he watched your ass jiggle against his pelvis, thrusting in and out faster every second. He missed this.
You had always thought you were indecisive, but you knew exactly what you wanted. You just couldn’t have that, so you’d eventually have to settle for less.
Jungkook wasn’t to blame for it, you just couldn’t concede your shortcomings. The movie’s villain wasn’t always the real villain.
Your hands traveled to your pussy to make sure you’d orgasm as well, when you heard Jungkook’s breathing getting heavier and his thrusts getting gentler than before, indicating that he was gonna cum soon. You were certain he could make you cum with just anal, but you wanted to cum with him.
With furrowed eyebrows and drops of sweat dripping down his body, Jungkook looked down at your arched back. The whole scene was sticky, especially when Jungkook presses his upper body to your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing the spot.
It was kinda odd, having sex with your ex-boyfriend you were crying over just a day ago. There was a certain intensity to it though. Like your long-lasting nostalgia was finally fulfilled.
You’ve realized you couldn’t imagine yourself being intimate with anybody else. Jungkook already knew your body, how it looked without the material protecting it, the strawberry skin, the slightly sagging breasts you swore you’d surgically remove once you had the chance to but didn’t. He knew where you liked being touched, he was the first one to even touch you in those places.
You were unsure what you’d do with yourself when he leaves.
Jungkook’s thrusts slowly started stopping and you too felt the familiar sensation in your stomach.
Suddenly, you two were nothing but desire, fear, and pleasure. And faster than you could process, you came together.
For minutes after your orgasm, you were just laying on the bed, thoughtless. Maybe a little regretful. Not you, but him.
You weren’t facing each other, but you could hear each other’s breathing. Your stomach was filled with something you’d describe as post-sex melancholia.
All of a sudden, Jungkook stood up from the bed, startling your resting self a little, but you decided to keep quiet, wanting to see what he was going to do.
He made his way to the door to leave what he thought was your sleeping body laying there. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.
“Where are you going?”, your soft voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Don’t you wanna stay?”
He didn’t know how exactly to tell you. You’ve always been a gullible little girl, you were the type of girl to think fucking equals love. Little did you know that wasn’t the case at all.
“Yn.... you know I can’t”, Jungkook responded, you knew it wasn’t gonna be good when he said your name like that. “I got a girl at home and I don’t wanna mess shit up with her.”
There it was. Your suspicion was corroborated. He was still going out with the model and you were a certified home wrecker. Great.
You physically felt your heart breaking. “Bu- but why are you here then?”
You were incapable of being mad at him at the moment. It was your fault for letting him in, again. After breaking your trust and your heart.
“This was a mistake”, he declared, not looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yn...”
He’s moved past your room now, already at the exit of your dormitory. He was about to leave.
“You already ruined shit with her when you came here and fucked me.”, your voice was small, but your words were heard.
Without looking back, he left.
And you went back to your room, standing in the middle of it for a minute in silence before your brain fully processed what had happened and your tears started pouring.
#jungkook#jungkook smut#bts#bts fic#bangtan smut#bts smut#jk smut#jk imagine#jeongguk#jeongguk imagine#jeongguk smut#jeongguk fanfiction#taehyung smut#jimin smut#hoseok smut#yoongi smut#seokjin smut#namjoon smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x female reader#thick thighs save lives
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fire alarm
✩ mark x reader | college au | fluff | 1.7k
SUMMARY ⇾ when your dorm building’s fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night and everyone’s outside, you offer to share your blanket with your shivering, cute neighbour.
WARNINGS ⇾ fluff, couple of swear words
RATING ⇾ teen+
⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!
You started to drift into deep sleep when the sudden blares of the dorm’s fire alarm stirs you awake.
Your groans are muffled in your pillow, frustrated that this is probably another false alarm like usual. With heavy eyes, you rush to grab your phone and keys, stuff your feet into your shoes, and waddle among the crowd of students, departing the building with your blanket over your shoulders as a make-shift jacket.
The moment you reach the front of the building where everyone safely coalesces, you glance at your phone as you tug at the ends of your blanket around your chest. 3:08am glows back at you, along with a couple other notifications. You barely get the chance to check them since the blatant chattering of teeth nearby catches your attention instead.
Your gaze rests on the familiar figure a few steps beside you, rubbing his arms up and down while his legs tremble. Peering around, you realize you’re one of the few who brought more than a jacket for extra warmth during this chill, autumn night. On the other hand, he’s one of the few who hardly had any layers, solely wearing a baggy red t-shirt and a pair of boxers.
His face swivels side to side, searching the crowd, and it dawns on you that it’s none other than your next door neighbour, Mark.
His dorm room was to the left of yours. You’ve only interacted with him in passing, regularly acknowledging each other with casual nods and smiles. His sweet smile never failed to make your heart race and to make the corners of your mouth widen further. You didn’t know much about him, except for the fact he played guitar since you occasionally heard him play late at night.
You always wanted to get to know him, but neither of you shared the same classes nor were you in the same clubs. To make matters worse, the only time you saw one another was when either of you were coming or going.
Perhaps now was the time to finally make a move.
Lifting your blanket off the pavement, you shuffle your way towards him. As you near him, it clicks in your head that you didn’t initially recognize him because, besides the lack of clothes and the slightly messy hair, he’s wearing glasses to boot.
“Hey, neighbour.”
Mark stops his searching and his focus lands on you. The handsome individual steps closer to shorten the space between you, displaying his signature smile. You grip onto your blanket tighter and the weight of your shoulders droop, allowing your face to shyly sink into the sea of fabric covering you.
The shivering man says your name and replies with a cool, “Hey.”
“Do you want to share the blanket with me?”
“Oh, no. It’s okay, I’m all right,” he stammers with a shake of his head, continuing to rub his arms.
You perk an eyebrow and open one of your arms out, offering him the promise of warmth.
Beaming, you say, “There’s enough room for another.”
His mouth twists to one side of his face, the gears in his head obviously turning.
“Are you sure?”
A hum, nod, and a grin answer his uncertainty. Mark swiftly grasps onto the end of the blanket and wraps himself over his shoulder. Although the heat from the front of your body flees due to the partial sacrifice of your cover, you’re now having an extra source of heat from being right next to Mark, touching shoulder to shoulder.
“Thanks,” he bobs his head. “I appreciate it. I just bolted out of bed and didn’t think of even bringing a jacket.”
“That’s okay, that’s why you have me,” you joke, swaying and pressing your shoulder lightly against his.
Both of you chuckle softly. There’s something else to add to the list of things that are keeping you warm—the prickling rising from your chest to your cheeks.
You then comment, “I’ve never seen you with glasses before. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Ah, yeah, I wear contacts during the day. Depending on stuff, I sometimes wear my glasses, but not as often.”
“Well, I think you look good either way.”
Your eyes practically fall and roll away from your head, cognizant of the words that just escaped your mouth.
“I mean—” You snap your eyes shut for an extended beat, not wanting to see the look on your next door crush’s face. “You know what, let’s just pretend I didn’t say that out loud.”
Exhaling a lengthy sigh, you turn to face the opposite direction, now regretting your offer to share your blanket with him.
Your regret leads you to miss the way his face lights up.
“Hey, no, thanks for the compliment.”
Under the blanket, his fingers gingerly graze over yours for a fleeting moment, which causes you to shift your head towards him again. The tips of your noses are almost touching. His twinkling eyes are locked on you, but yours are veering everywhere else except on him.
“If it makes you feel any better, I think you look good too.”
With that, your gaze finally lands on Mark.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You want to continue the conversation, you really do, but you’re at a loss of words and are too busy getting lost in the galaxy of his eyes from up-close. From the way he’s not tearing his eyes away either, a little part of you wonders if he harbours an infatuation with you as well. He couldn’t possibly, right?
Despite being practically strangers, the silent, intense aura blooms as time passes. Your respective breaths brush against each other’s lips and it’d be so easy to just lean in to meet the other’s—
Suddenly, the tension is cut short as everyone begins to sluggishly amble their way back into the building.
Although nothing really transpired, you break apart simultaneously like someone caught you two doing something you shouldn’t. Mark lets you have your blanket all to yourself once more and both of you head back side by side in comfortable silence.
After walking up the flight of stairs, trailing behind all the other residents of the building, you finally reach your respective doors.
“It was nice to see you,” you say, pulling your keys out and inserting the fitting one into your lock.
“Yeah, thanks for sharing your blanket with me. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime, neighbour,” you glance up at him from your hand. His whole body faces you and his mouth is agape like he’s itching to say something. On second thought, he presses his lips together and feels around his body for his keys. Realization hits him in the face.
“Shit,” he bangs his forehead against the door, deterring you from entering your home abode. “I forgot my keys inside.”
Mark turns to you with a scrunched face. Even in a state of frustration, how could someone be so cute? “Sorry to ask, but can I borrow your phone?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” You don’t hesitate to scramble and hand it over to him.
He mumbles a quick thanks, rubbing the back of his head. When he finishes entering a number to dial-in, he holds the phone against his ear and leans the side of head against his door, still facing you. You stand there awkwardly, eyes wavering between the adorable phone borrower and the handful of people in the hallway trickling back into their dorms.
After the third unanswered ring, a bold offer impulsively escapes your lips.
“You know, you can stay at my place overnight if you need to.”
Oh, no. Shit. Why brain, why?
You don’t register your brazenness until the fifth ring, when Mark’s jaw is hanging and his eyebrows are glued to the ceiling. Okay, maybe you can save the moment by saying it was a joke or—
“Hello?” you overhear a muffled grumble on the other end.
The shock dissolves away from his face. “Oh, hey. Sorry to wake you, Johnny. It’s Mark…”
Utter embarrassment. This time, you can’t save yourself from your impetuous words. Millions of possibilities run through your mind, including abandoning your phone for him to keep and then moving to another building. No, moving to another college. Actually, Mars sounds like an even better idea.
You’re so deep in your overdramatic thoughts, your face in a pinch behind your blanket, that you don’t even realize Mark’s already done with his call.
“Thanks.” His voice breaks you away from your thoughts, eyelids shooting open. He must’ve stepped closer while you weren’t looking because he’s now in front of you, dangling your device from his fingertips. You gently grasp the phone, jointly holding it with him.
“And about your offer…” You cringe, ready for him to ignore your existence until the end of time. You officially ruined everything, and nothing has even happened yet.
“How about we go on a date first?”
Your head shoots up at his proposition. Did you hear that right?
“Then, maybe when the fire alarm goes off again next time and I forget my keys, I’ll take you up on it.”
It could be because it’s almost 4am and you’re teetering on sleep, or you’re purely stricken, but all you could do is nod mindlessly and squeak, “Sure.”
A heartstopping smile rolls over his face. “I was hoping you’d say that. I took the liberty of adding myself to your contacts and sent a text to my phone.”
Mark releases your phone from his grip and begins to walk backwards towards the stairs, suppressing his desire to stay with you for a little while more. But, it’s late and it’s not like this was the last time he’d see you. You are neighbours after all.
Waving, he whisper-shouts in the hallway, “I’ll text you back first thing when I can. Have a good night!”
You subtly wave back, still huddling your blanket over your shoulders. When he disappears from your line of sight, you enter your room and flop onto your bed with a jubilant sigh.
Following knocks at his door, a slit-eyed Johnny is welcomed by a vivacious friend. Too vivacious for 4am.
“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. Remember that cute neighbour I’ve been telling you about?...”
Maybe (and thankfully) there wasn’t an actual fire, but another one was certainly beginning to kindle.
And neither of you had the intention of extinguishing it any time soon.
#mark#mark lee#mark lee fluff#mark lee scenarios#mark lee imagines#nct#nct imagines#nct fluff#nct scenarios#nct 127 imagines#nct 127 fanfic#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 scenarios#nctcreations#mark x reader#mark lee x reader
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Hello! I recently follow you and read your writing of DC. I love it, your writing are really good! For a request, i have this idea...
Platonic yandere Damian wayne with twin sister reader. Maybe, when they were kids, he used to be hated her because she was excelent in everything and have a little care and love from Talia. But she really care for his brother and then Ra al-ghul put them to fight among themselves on a cliff to see who was going to be the future leader and in a bad move, they ended up hanging up in the cliff. Then his sister, not wanting to see his brother die, brings him back to the surface and she ends up falling. Damian didn't know how to react and only receive a slap from his mother .
How about, after Damian goes to live with Bruce and being the new Robin, in one of the fights with Slade and his partner, this partner decides to let himself be trapped so that Slade can escape. In the Batcave, they take off the mask to discover that it is their sister, but someone very different, with another personality, cold, somewhat insane, hostile and very intelligent like that, because she was submerged in the Lazarus pit by Slade, who consider as a parent. Maybe Damian will try to reason with her and apologize for what he did to her. She tells him that it is too late and a smoke bomb explodes to reveal that Slade came for his daughter. She, determined, goes with him, but Damian tries to stop her, but is defeated and tells him that he should never have saved him, to see how Damian tears up and before leaving, he laughs and says "I didn't know that demons cry "
it could be possible? Thanks!!
Ukht: Sister in Arabic
Title: Not Again
Talia was surprised when she gave birth to twins. The boy a few minutes sooner than the girl. She was glad as well as they had two lethal weapons instead of one.
Two children with the blood of Talia Al Ghul and The Batman.
There was a boy she named Damian and she name the girl Y/N. She cared for them a short time after they were born then they were cared for mostly by maids.
As they grew older Damian began to despise his younger sister. She was perfect at everything and he was always second best. He believed she got all the love of their mother and grandfather and left him with none.
They were 10 when they were dropped at the top of the tallest mountain on their land and told to fight to determine the next Leader of the League Of Assassins. They were equals. They fought for hours as they each met each attack with one of equal force same with defense. They were bloody and bruised and Y/N couldn’t bare to hurt her brother anymore. But we she was about to give, she didn’t notice how close to the edge they were. The stood facing each other with their feet barely not over the edge but as Damian attack he knocked himself over the edge because he lost balance as he grew angry and let his emotions over ride his training. But as he fell he grabbed onto his sisters leg and she was pulled down with him. The didn’t fall far as they ended hanging onto a small ledge not to far from the top of the mountain.
Y/N knew what she had to do, but did she have the strength to do it is what she was questioning to herself.
She grabbed the rope she had attached to her belt and used one hand to toss it up and luckily for her it landed around a tall rock while the other end flew back down. The two ends of the rope were next to her and she leaned over and attached the rope to Damians belt as he struggled to hold on. He looked over once he felt the weight on his belt and he looked back at her questioningly.
“I love you Damian.” She said as she grabbed onto one end of the rope, pulling Damian up to the top as she used as much of the weight she could to work as a pulley system. She didn’t want him to bed up falling back down so as soon as she saw he was safely to the top, or as safe as you could be on the top of the mountain. She let go.
Damian screamed as he saw his sister fall beneath the clouds to her death, and he couldn’t do anything. He hated her all of his life for reasons she could not control and he didn’t realize that he never triplet hated her until he realized he never had been without her. She patched him up after fights in the middle of the night so he couldn’t protest, gave his pieces of food, tried to show him love but he wouldn’t accept it, not from her. 
He regretted it now.
A assassin flew a helicopter up to the mountain with Talia in the back going to collect Damian. Once she arrived and Damian had fought the pain and walked onto the helicopter, Talia slapped him sending him to the floor with a red hand print on his cheek. He wouldn’t cry, never.
They arrived back at the compound and Talia led him to Ra’s. Of course they talked about everything he did wrong then made him practice for 5 hours until it was perfect. After they sent him away to sleep he had nightmares of his sisters death, and how he hated her all those years.
The next day he was sent to live with his father after the league was attacked and Ra’s was killed. His mother handed him off and later on he decided to stay with his father even after he was to be brought back to the league. It had been a few months since then and Batman and Robin were in the middle of a fight with Slade otherwise known as deathstroke. He was a powerful force to be reckoned with. But even worse now, as he had a sidekick.
A fully masked figure wearing fighting gear and knifes strapped to their thigh, not to mention the very sharp Katana they were wielding, it was a difficult task for them both. But Batman dodged a stroke from the blade and the blade hit a gas pipe, as it was about to explode Slade ran off and Batman was about to go follow before she tackled him to the ground. They fought for a good couple seconds before Robin joined the fight and she was knocked out.
Batman and Robin swung out of the warehouse with Batman holding the masked figure as the pipe exploded leaving behind a burning building.
They put her in handcuffs and put her in the back of the batmobile as they drove home.
“Who do you think she is Batman?”
“I’m not sure.”
They drove home in silence, when did Slade get a partner?
Once in the bat cave they tied her to a chair before Alfred fixed up their cuts. The figure began to slowly wake up and she struggled in the chair before settling while staring at the duo.
“Why were you with Slade? A partner? Sidekick? Apprentice?” She doesn’t respond and continued to glare. The Bat stared right back and couldn’t help but think she was very short, just a inch or two below Damian. Her eyes seemed young as well but didn’t hold any innocence.
“You heard him, who are you?!” Damian demanded by Robin put a hand on his shoulder
They still didn’t respond. But, an idea came to mind. If she gave away her identity it would distract them enough for her to initiate a plan.
“Take off my mask Damian and see.” She spoke ominously while they both looked in shock that she knew his identity. He got over it and quickly ripped off her mask and he was staring into eyes alike to his own.
“Y-Y/N?”
“Miss me? I’m sure you didn’t.”
“Who is she Damian?”
“He never told you about me?” She asked with a fake point then proceeded to smirk.
“Damian?” Batman questioned further but all domain could do was stare.
“I’m his twin sister.” If there was a time the bat had showed that he was shocked it would have been when he found out about Damian, but this one rivaled it.
“W-What?”
He looked over to Damian but Damian turned away.
“Yep, his little sister only by a few minutes.”
Damian and Bruce took off the masks looked at her. Bruce saw the resemblances, between Damian and her, between her and himself.
Damian knelt in front of her and stared into her eyes.
“Forgive me ukht, please forgive me.” Tears gathered in his eyes surprising y/n. Damian crying? That’s not possible.
“Forgive you for what Damian?” Bruce questioned staring at his children.
Y/N had her lips pursed so Damian responded.
“Our mother and grandfather put us against each other in a mountain… it was a fight to the death to determine who would be the heir to the league. We fought for hours before I let me emotions lead and I fell. I grabbed onto y/n and she came down with me. We felt onto a ledge with barely enough room for us to hold on.” Bruce’s eyes are wide and slightly teary. “She grabbed her rope and made a pulley system. I was slipping, she tied it to my belt and jumped, telling me she loved me. Pulling me to the top as she Plummeted down. She fell, or rather let go so I could live.”
“And yet here we are.” She spoke snarky glaring at Damian.
“How are you here then?” Bruce questioned feeling as if he knew the answer. Jason was a standing example.
“You already know Bruce. The Lazarus Pit. Just like how it brought back Robin #2.” She smirked as he glared slightly. Damian glared back at their father as he needed to calm down.
“But did you know something Batman?” 
“What is it Y/N?”
“We always have a back up plan.”
With that the wall bursted open and Y/N shook of the robes she had been working away with a small knife. She held up a small tracker she had on her and smirked at their surprise faces. The duo threw on their masks even though their identity’s were already known.
Slade walked in with swords at the ready and he threw one to Y/N.
“Nice to see you.” Slade smirked at her.
“To you as well.”
“Ready to go?” He questioned her ignoring the bat and the bird.
“Ready when you are.” They nodded slightly and
Slade attacked Batman while she got Damian. With the help of a smoke Bomb and their disorientation from the information that she was alive, they were fairly easy to take down. They knocked the duo down to the floor and tied their legs together, just to give them enough time to escape.
“You can’t go! Not again.” Damian yelled with tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t lose her, not again.
“Wow look at that Slade.”
“What is it Y/N?” He played along as they turns towards the whole in the wall.
“I didn’t know Demons could cry. You learn something new everyday.”
Slade tossed another smoke Bomb into the cave as the last dispersed, distracting Damian and Bruce since they had almost gotten out of the rope, and got far away from the duo.
Damian stared at the hole in the wall in a mix of anger and sadness. Bruce in shock still.
Damian sobbed and fell to the floor in tears.
“Not again.”
~*~
Hopefully you liked it! Sorry it wasn’t too Yandere, I wasn’t sure how to make him a Yandere with this. But I how it was still good. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day! ♡
#damain wayne#Bruce Wayne#Batman#Robin#slade wilson#deathstroke#Damian Wayne sister#Bruce Wayne daughter#lazarus
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The Promise of Rain, blurb 2
The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically)
A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))
Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)
--
The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone.
Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it.
“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness.
I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.”
His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?”
I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them.
It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look.
Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features.
“It might rain tonight.”
He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”
I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction.
“You distracted me on purpose.”
“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing.
How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.”
Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”
“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth.
His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.”
Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?”
My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?”
“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.”
I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.”
“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.”
My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”
“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”
Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door.
“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”
“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force.
“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”
Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.”
Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”
“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--”
“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”
“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.”
From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse.
“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.”
I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion.
I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.”
“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz.
“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.”
He turns his head slightly. “You should.”
“Too bad.”
Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.”
There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.”
“A look?”
Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.”
Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”
The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.”
He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”
I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?”
“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.”
On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.”
“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.”
Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.”
“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came.
I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.”
“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off.
“Like what?”
Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.”
Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”
We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?”
The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.”
“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.”
A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--”
“Your upbringing makes sense--”
“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--”
He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.”
I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.”
And then I keep reading.
--
@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag
#six of crows#six of crows x reader#soc#soc imagine#six of crows imagine#six of crows x you#shadow and bone#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone netflix#shadow and bone show#shadow and bone imagine#shadow and bone x you#kaz brekker#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker x you#imagines#kaz brekker imagine#my works#blurb#x reader#grishaverse#grisha x reader#grisha#grishaverse x reader#grishaverse imagine
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Burden | corpse x reader
Summary: You and Corpse get into a nasty fight, which ends in broken hearts.
Pairing: Corpse x Fem!reader
Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Fluff
Authors Note: cried, laughed and cried again during this lmao. i just wanna give him a hug 🥺
requests are open!! <3
You groaned loudly, you and Corpse were in a heated fight, his symptoms started to flare, but he didn’t care, and neither did you.
You groaned loudly, your frustration bubbling, “Babe! I don’t care that you don’t wanna take pictures with me, I don’t fucking care that we can’t go outside, I don’t fucking care if I can’t show you off, because I love you.”
“Y/N YOU’RE NOT GETTING IT,” Corpse sighs, “Every fucking day I feel like I’m a burden to you. I feel like you can do so much better than me. BECAUSE YOU CAN. I FEEL LIKE I’M A FUCKING BURDEN.”
“I DON’T WANT BETTER THAN YOU. THERE IS NO BETTER THAN YOU AND YOU ARE NOT A BURDEN.” Pools of clear, salty water filled your eyes.
Corpse groaned, matching your frustration, “I’m just worried that I can’t give you the life you want, and I want you to have better. No, fuck that I need you to have better.”
“What does that mean for us then. I want you and you want me to have better than you.”
“I STILL WANT YOU Y/N, but I can’t fucking live with the fact that I couldn’t give you want you need. That I never can.”
You were in shock and you knew what was coming for the two of you, you just didn’t want to believe it at all and it was so fucked up and terrible and you knew you wouldn’t be able to live without this man. Your anxiety wouldn’t be able to handle that you weren’t with him anymore. Your breath became heavy, as you felt a weight on your heart. Your stomach shrunk and you felt so constricted by yourself. You shook your head at him, from the opposite side of the bed as both of you were on either side.
“We’re over, we’re done. Live a better life without me in it, y/n. As long as you’re happy, I won’t regret it.” Tears ran down the boy’s skin.
You weren’t angry anymore, you were anxious, you were in sobs, “Fine,” Corpse face fell when the word came out of your mouth.
You turned around and opened the closet that held the both of your clothes. Taking off Corpe’s sweater that you were currently wearing, throwing it at him, taking all your clothes out of the closet, opening a duffle bag shoving everything inside of it. Putting on another shirt to cover up the bra that covered your chest. You couldn’t believe he would end things with you. After all you guys have been through.
You convinced him to move out to L.A. when most of your friends had made the same exact transition. You got him to open up to you without even trying in the first two weeks of knowing him. You were the first person he showed his face before he showed the rest of your friends. He said I love you first and was okay with it when you were hesitant about saying it back, even though you said it three days later without even knowing you had. You were both sat in bed and he said “You said it back.” “Said what back?” “I love you. You said it, this morning when you hung up the phone.”.
After throwing the duffle bag over your shoulder, you looked at him once more, “I’ll be back tomorrow to get the rest of my things, my PC, my set up, all of it. You can keep the TV, you can keep everything else, I just need my set up.”
“Done. See you tomorrow.” Corpse sighed, taking a seat on what had been a shared bed, was now his. He couldn’t believe he was sleeping in the king bed the two of you had bought because you were one of the biggest bed hog’s he had ever met. You walked out and he looked down at the f/c coloured bed sheets you had convinced him to let you put on, even though he preferred the black ones, but you let him have the wall behind the two of you black and helped him painted the room. As well as painting the walls of his gaming room black too.
You got into your little Honda Civic, as you drove for around 15 minutes finally reaching Rae’s house. You told yourself you wouldn’t break down in front of her, but you knew that you would. You got out of your car, and closed the door as you walked up to Rae’s front door. Knocking on it, she didn’t answer at first but you looked down at the clock on your phone, noticing that it was 12:00am. Although she might’ve been sleeping, she could’ve been streaming.
So you knocked again, and she opened the door, her bedroom room was lit up from what you could see, and she was streaming. She noticed the duffle bag and let you in, placing a finger to her lips telling you to whisper. Running back to her stream room.
“Well guys! I’m getting tired so, I’m gonna end it here, goodnight!” She said cheerily. Before shutting off her PC and ending the stream walking back out into her living room to see you sitting on the couch. You were in sobs.
“He ended it, Rae, he ended things with me and I can’t br-breath.” You said taking a deep breath as she sat down next to you pulling you close to her. “How am I supposed to go and get my things tomorrow, I can’t even think about him without crying and picturing his smile and hearing his laugh and crying. What hurts even worse is the fact that he didn’t even want to end it, he ended it because he said I could do better. When I can’t get better than him.”
“What makes him say that?” She asks.
“He thinks he’s holding me back. He thinks because he doesn’t show his face online, he doesn’t want to leave the house, he thinks he’s holding me back and he’s not because that’s not what people do when they love eachother, when people love eachother, they walk through life together. They experience things together. We loved eachother.”
“Y/n, it’s gonna be okay, you just need to talk to him, you both clearly still want to be together, so you just need to tell him what you told me - he’s loosing his mind if he’s letting you out of all the people go. So when you go pick up your things, talk to him.”
You nodded, “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll just talk to him.”
Well, talking to him was harder than you thought. You texted him five minutes before you got there to give him a heads up. You walked upto the front door the next morning, seeing a yellow post-it note on the front door.
Pick up your things, text me when you leave.
You sighed, calling Rae, “Rae, can you come help me get my stuff, Corpse isn’t here,,, he left.”
“On my way.” She sighs.
With the two of you getting your set up, it didn’t take long before it was dismantled and in both of your cars. Your pc, mic and monitor and your now broken desk chair in your car, and your desk in Raes.
Gone <3
Was what you texted Corpse after you left. You thought the little heart was cute, but you knew it wasn’t needed and so did you. You didn’t set your stuff up at Rae’s knowing it would only be temporary. You told your fans you were visiting your parents and wouldn’t be streaming for a little bit. Though they knew something was up, you hadn’t responded to any of Corpse’s tweets or hadn’t commented on the fact that he posted another hand pic, usually a cute remark like “that’s one sexy hand ^-^” or something like that would be in the comments.
Every night that week without him, you cried yourself to sleep, every night the next week, you did the same, and the week after that, you did it again. It had been almost a month since you guys had ended things and you still cried. You would keep crying. Corpse knew you were staying with Rae, and made sure to ask her if you were okay. Short answer, Rae told him every time: No.
It was raining one night, fit the mood, as you sat in bed on your laptop watching streams of him play, missing his laugh and his voice. You frequently went back to the stream where he couldn’t do admin swipe, because that was the hardest he had laughed on camera. The hardest he had ever laughed was when you two had fallen off of the bed, when you had surprised him with a kiss. A heavy thump echoed through the house as the both of you fell into a fit of laughter, you had calmed down, but he was still going - couldn’t look at you without bursting into a laughing fit - he tried to stop the laughter, because it was making his stomach hurt like 30,000 knifes, but he couldn’t. That admin swipe didn’t even come close. But it was close enough for you as you cried watching them. You opened your camera roll to which you found lots of photos of him. You cried.
You got up out of Rae’s guest bed. She was streaming so you just shot her a text careful not to give your location away. She shot you a simple text back as you left the house in your little black honda civic, you looked at the little plastic bag he had set up for your gum wrappers and used gum.
Tears ran down your face as the rain followed. You sighed getting out of the car standing in the rain contemplating if you should go and knock on the door or not. You knew he wouldn’t be doing okay. Or maybe he was, but you just knew him too well to know he wouldn’t be hurting.
“Fuck it.” You muttered under your breath.
You walked up to the front door, knocking on it furiously as the porch light turned on. He opened the door. You looked at his face, his eyes were bloodshot red like yours, and you could hear tiny sniffles coming from his nose. You could see the couch behind him had been pulled out into the bed, but there was nobody staying over. He couldn’t sleep in the bed the two of you shared. But you knew you had to give the sappy ass speech because you were both hurting.
“When I started streaming in 2015, I didn’t think it would be like this. Y’know. I knew I’d be meeting people left and right, but I didn’t know I would meet you. Until I did. Then we started to talk outside of the group and streams and, everything else. Then you opened up to me about everything you possibly could and we knew each other for two months. But that felt like years. Then you asked me to come to San Fransisco and thank god i said yes. Then we went on two dates on your balcony and they were perfect, and thennnn you asked me to be your girlfriend and of course I said yes. One year later, I convince you to move to L.A. with me, you say yes. We move here, buy a house, everything was perfect. Two years later, I’m sitting in bed for one month, crying over you, because we both want each other, you just wanna give me better. But that’s not how it works. How it works is we go through life together and I’m fine waiting for you, because I can’t live without you. I can’t function without you and people who love eachother go through life together and we loved eachother. I still love you.” By the end of it, your words were unintelligible to anyone but him.
He just looked at you, the same tears running down his face as you, he sighs of relief, “Thank fuck. I tried to call you everyday, but I couldn’t. Not after I was a coward like that. It was so fucking shitty of me to do that to you - I just wanted you to have better. I needed you to have better.” He cried as you pulled him close, your foreheads touching.
“It’s okay,” You said hugging his head.
“Please take me back, please.” He choked.
Your foreheads touched, “Of course I’ll take you back, I need you back.”
Your soft lips pressed onto his as you both smiled against it. You could taste the salty water between your lips. Although Corpse’s eyes were now dried. He smiled down at you pulling you back into a hug. Rae texted you as you heard the familiar ding of your phone.
Pulling away from Corpse and pulling your phone out, a screenshot of both you and Corpse’s bitmoji’s showed up on Rae’s snap maps. A message sat underneath it.
this you? 🤭
You chuckled showing Corpse as he let out a laugh with you.
yeah SDFJHDKFSJDNG
spending the night here :)
i knew you guys could get through this! see you tomorrow, come pick up your shit 😐
SDJFKDJF all jokes aside - thank you so much Rae, i wouldn’t have been okay without you. i hope i wasn’t a burden on you.
of course you weren’t! now remember, i’ll see you tomorrow 👩❤️💋👩
So that night, you lay in your bed with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. God, it felt nice to say that again. It was warm and soft and you liked the way his chest fell up and down as you lay on it. His strong arms around you. Careful never to let you go again.
People don’t believe in soulmates, but you knew you had found yours, as when you thought he was asleep, he intertwined your fingers together, as you both fell asleep entangled in between each other.
#corpse husband#corpse husband x reader#corpse x reader#corpse x reader fluff#corpse x reader imagines#corpse husband x reader fluff#corpse husband fluff#corpse x reader angst#corpse husband x reader angst#corpse#valkyrae#valkyrae x reader
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Kisaki (25) x Reader (18+)
tw: death, guns, blood
☆*:.｡. o
you held your breath as you stood between the two burly men that escorted you in the cramped elevator. the light was dim, even so it produced a glare against the scuffed metal. flashes of vibrant lights shown in the windows from the city, green and purple scattered against the thin surface of your red dress. he had requested you wear it tonight, for it was ‘a special occasion’
“damn how much longer is this lift going to take,” one of the guards grunted out looking at the key panel as he fiddled with his gun. he traced the tip of his index finger over the sights, as if preparing himself to aim at someone.
“heh, might take a half hour more for all we know… boss ordered us to take her all the way to the penthouse so it’s not like we can just get off on the next floor.” The other guard replied rolling his shoulders back, fixing his posture.
you released your breath and looked at the guard to your right, still fixed on his gun. you studied the features of his face as he lifted the gun up to look through the sights.
“hmm what’s wrong miss.. heh.. do you want to play?” he chortled when he noticed you staring. ‘here, don’t be shy.’
he placed one large hand on the small of your back, causing you to shiver. “don’t worry im friendly…”he grinned when you put a hand out to stop him from getting to close. he saw it as an opening, he placed the pistol he had been studying in your hand.
the weight of the gun shocked you, but it felt… almost comfortable. as you wrapped your fingers around the handle the gripping rubbed against your skin. it felt natural to you.
you twisted your wrist left and right to see the different angles of the pistol. nothing was rather interesting about the pistol except for a few tally marks, you guess to mark how many victims it had killed.
“hey now what are you doing giving that to her?”the other man bit out as you raised the gun up to see yourself just what the other guard found so enticing about the gun.
“oh come on were just having fun! right little lady?”,the one who handed you the gun chuckled.
you ignored him and looked up to the ceiling, your eyes moving across the space between the dying fluorescent lights. trying to spot a camera or a microphone somewhere you stood up on the tips of your toes and traced your fingers directly above you were standing. there was a slight convex in the metal that you skimmed the tips of your fingers over.
he was watching.
you felt reassured as you brought your hand back down to your side. “here, Ive had enough fun.” you sigh handing the man his gun back.
“oh silly you.. I’m not,” he put the gun back in its holster and placed his hands on your waist. he brought you into his chest and put his nose to the top of your head, breathing in your scent.
“ugh as soon as I take over this place and kill boss, you’re gonna be mine baby…”he said tracing one hand up your exposed back, from the opening of the dress.
“what are you saying?” the other guard said as he pried his partners hands off you. “you’ve lost it haven’t you? do you know who he is? he isn’t just some wanna be gangster… he’s kisaki.”
‘kisaki.’ the word rang through your ears, and left a warmth in your cheeks as if he had just caressed your face. kisaki, your kisaki.
you relaxed instantly at the sound of his name. ‘ah let him do as he pleases.’ you raise a hand up stopping the guards from a fight that neither of them would come back from.
just then the elevator chimes. “for fucks sake about time.”
you let out an exasperated sigh as you stepped out of the elevator. behind you the two men silently cursed at each other as the followed after you.
“stay by my side”, the guard set on stealing your heart said lightly wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling out his gun once more, except this time ready to pull the trigger on anyone who threatened your safety.
the other, more collected, guard walked a few steps in front of you with his gun trained in front of him. he looked down the turns and twists of the hallways that lead to different rooms of kisakis building. he kept his back close to the wall and stuck out his gun first then his head peaked out ever so slightly around the corner.
at the end of the hall you could make out shadows of men pacing back in forth through a crack in the door. suddenly the air around you felt static, why would kisaki call you to his penthouse and have two… very unqualified guards escort you.
your head started to throb as you searched for an answer. each scenario you played out in your head led to someone dying. that was the best case. you didn’t want to think of worse ones, so you stopped to take a deep breath.
‘nothing is going to happen’ you reassured yourself. kisaki would protect you. there was nothing to fear.
as you neared the door to kisakis pent house you heard someone murmur a few distasteful things about you.
“why do you keep that bitch around, she does nothing but distract you boss. your priorities aren’t straight anymore…”
“hmm so that’s how you truly feel,” you heard kisaki laugh.
as you approached the door you pictured the expression kisaki was making as kisaki laughed. his face was probably flushed with excitement, and his eyes were probably just as piercing as ever.
you felt your breath hitch as you thought of his eyes. the way they could make you fear for your life in an instant, turned you on.
closing your eyes yet again, you imagined kisaki restraining your hands above your head and staring you down with those eyes. you imagined him pressing his knee into your dripping pussy and forcing you against the wall.
“ehem”, the guard who had been swatting through turns of each hallway cleared his throat, trying to get your attention.
“hm what is it”, you turned around to face him after he whisked you away from your fantasy.
“we should go inside now before kisaki gets upset that we took so long…” the corners of his eyes squinted as he winced, imagining what would happen to him if he didn’t follow kisakis orders.
“ok then, shall we?” you straighten your shoulders and fix your hair before gently pushing the thick double doors open.
“boss I just think you should…never mind, if you’ll excuse me.” the man who spoke ill of you muttered stepping to the right to avoid coming into contact with the opening doors.
as the doors swung open and the two guards walked into the penthouse you took in as much of the room as possible.
the entire penthouse was made up of windows. lights from the city flooded in making the use of no lights seem rather understandable. kisaki leaned against a mahogany desk directly across from you. his arms folded over his pinstripe vest, his sleeves rolled up exposing the veins from his hands to his forearms. the purple and green lights that had danced across your dress in the elevator now illuminated kisakis figure.
“no,” kisaki gritted through his teeth at the man who wanted so desperately to leave after bad mouthing you. “you stay, and you my darling come here” he raised one finger up and curled it back, beckoning you.
you let out a shaky breath as you stepped forward, your hands bunching up pieces of the red dress he had requested.
“ah why so nervous sweetheart?” kisaki mocked taking long steps toward you, “you look perfect in that dress I ordered for you. as I knew you would.”
“thank you…” you said in a hushed voice, avoiding his eyes.
in a half of a second his hand was on your jaw, pulling your face towards his, “look at me when you speak to me, bitch”
you let out a surprised whimper at his sudden aggressiveness, your face flushed with heat. your head started to spin with anticipation. kisakis lips were inching closer to yours. his breath warm against your mouth.
he licked his lips and smiled as he pulled away, “ah ah ah, not just yet sweetheart we have some business to take care of.”
you shook your head and turned around to see the expressions of the ‘business’. you had known what was going to happen. you turned back around to face kisaki yet again.
he was now sitting on the desk with his legs spread and a mocking smile plastered on his face, “won’t you come sit” he patted his leg.
as you approached him you heart raced, his touch would turn you into a thoughtless animal searching for the pleasure that only he could deliver.
“good girl”, he murmured into your ear, nibbling on it a bit, when you placed yourself into his lap.
you wrapped an arm over his shoulders and placed your other hand on his chest. you ran your hands over the cloth of his vest, eventually you tugged on his tie a bit, begging him silently.
he slid his perfect hands around your waist and pulled you in closer to him. the scent of sage and liquor wafted into your nose as you put your face in the crook of his neck. he was so intoxicating.
“mmm you’re just so impatient tonight hmm” he said tracing a hand up your thigh and under you dress slipping two fingers into your panties.
“boss.” one of the guards whispered, “can we leave?”he rocked back and forth on his heels uncomfortably waiting for a response.
kisaki brought his eyes up to the men and sighed, “cant you see im busy, now be patient and wait for your orders until then.. keep your mouths shut.”
you let out a breath as he turned his attention back to you, biting your collarbone. “ah fuck,” he breathed into your neck. “i just can’t wait to be inside you.” he lifted his head and grinned at you.
you bit your lip as he placed two fingers against your dripping cunt. he rubbed soft, gentle circles into your pussy. your body twitched under his touch, your head felt light and you could feel the heat starting to rise up.
he slid his other hand from your waist directly up to the small of your back while pushing two fingers inside you. he chuckled as he felt you wrap around him in excitement. “oh you want me so bad don’t you slut?” he pushed his fingers deeper inside you. “say it and maybe I’ll give you what you want so bad”
“kisaki I want you… I want you so bad, please.” you whined out gripping his tie tightly.
“aren’t you ashamed, begging for me to fuck you in front of three strangers? mm not so lady like of you.” he said, abruptly pulling his fingers out of you and licking them.
“my apologies gentleman we should get back to business.” he lifted you off of him and placed you on the desk as he stood up. he took his time walking around to reach into a drawer, in which he pulled out a glock.
“kisaki…what’re you doing?” you asked trying to collect yourself after kisaki toyed with you.
“ah don’t worry princess just look at me, ok?” he stepped beside you grabbing your hand and training the gun to the man who had come onto you in the elevator.
“you shouldn’t have underestimated me, I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know what you did to her. offering a women a gun, have you no sense?” kisaki smiled pulling the trigger before the guard could answer in his defense.
you kept your eyes on kisaki even when you heard the guards body thump as he hit the floor. even when you knew the pool of blood that seeped from his corpse would spread out to the furniture. even still, you’re eyes never looked away from kisaki.
you squeezed your legs together when you saw kisakis smile grow and his eyes squint. the light shining in through the windows made him stand out against the darkness of the room. on your own face the light scattered onto you as well.
“now who’s next? hmm?” he chuckled moving his gun back and forth between the last two men. “you, the one bad mouthing my property, and questioning my priorities. you really are so stupid.” again he pulled the trigger. and still you kept your eyes on him. you felt heat rising up in your chest as you watched his smile grow with every person he killed.
“ah, the last man standing.” kisaki released your hand and stood up. he walked over to the last person he was yet to kill in the room. “you did well today, you followed my orders thoroughly. you can leave now. oh but one more thing, call someone to clean this mess up.” he used his gun to point at the bodies sprawled on the floor.
“y-yes sir” the last man stammered out before speeding out the door.
“finally” kisaki raised his arms up as he turns around to face you. “youve been such a good girl you deserve a reward.”
he came back to the desk where you sat cross legged waiting for him to give you the pleasure he denied you before. putting a finger out he removed a strand of hair from your eyes and put it behind your ear.
“do you know how many people I’ve ordered to kill for me? hmm you don’t think I wouldn’t kill for you? after all the things they did to you? stripping you of your clothes with their eyes. you’re mine, and I’ll kill anyone who doesn’t fucking agree. all mine princess, now I think it’s time for you to show me your appreciation. on your knees slut.”
your mouth watered as you slid down to the floor. kisaki rubbed his cock through his pants waiting for you to do as he ordered. unbuttoning his pants you moved one hand up under his shirt to feel more of him. “im getting impatient,” he whispered gripping some of your hair and pushing your face down onto his cock.
you licked circles around his tip and up his shaft, causing him to grunt and pull your hair roughly. you brought your hands up to stroke him as you sucked.
the air was filled with the sound of slurping and choking. you felt him deep in your throat, making you want more.
you’re head bobbed up and down as you picked up speed sucking and licking all around his cock. “ah fuck, just like that” he groaned out throwing his head back with pleasure. your hands came down to your pussy to touch yourself as you pleasured him. the more of a reaction you got from him the worse you needed him.
he pulled you by your hair taking your mouth of off his cock. “did I give you permission to touch yourself?” he leaned down grinning in your face.
“n-no but…” you stammered trying to find the words to say in your fuzzy head.
“then take your hands away from yourself and keep sucking you slut.” he thrusted his cock into your mouth as you brought your hands back up.
you moaned as his dick slid deeper down your throat, you did your best to lick and suck but your movements were getting sluggish from the pleasure.
“cmon,” he whined out thrusting into your mouth, “you can go a little longer. isn’t this what you wanted bitch? or would you rather be riding me right now?”
you looked up at him through watery eyes trying to beg him to give you the pleasure you needed so badly.
he pulled out of your mouth and picked you up laying you down on the table.
“youve done enough, good job princess.” he sighed kissing you lips gently before climbing on top of you. his face hung inches away from yours as he smiled, “since you were so impatient earlier I’ll give you what you want, but I cant promise I’ll be nice.”
he slid the dress of off you from your shoulders, following that he ripped off your panties and bra. he spread open your legs and licked circles around your nipples as he thrust into you.
you moaned out his name in surprise, he wasn’t going to go easy on you. you gripped the sides of the desk as he continuously thrust into your dripping pussy.
suddenly he stopped, taking off his glasses and shoving his tongue down your throat. “you’re insides feel so fucking good” he breathed as your tongues met. he sucked and bit your lip when you released the kiss for a breath, a string of saliva attached your mouths.
“ah ah ah, you don’t get any breaks.” he laughed breathlessly while groping your titties. you let out small whimpers as he slowly started to thrust into you again.
his breathing became erratic and his hands came up to your thighs as he came to his climax. “so fucking close, princess” your insides twitched around him as you neared yours as well.
you felt him twitch inside you as he came, “ah fuck” he whined out, moaning your name.
your hands came up to his face as he thrusted into you slowly, his movements becoming more sluggish. his face was flushed and wet with sweat. the slowness and sweetness of his movements felt even better then when he was going fast.
“ah kisaki…” you released onto his cock as you gripped his tie. he shoved his tongue down your throat yet again not allowing you a break from the pleasure.
“you can hold on a little longer cant you doll.” his warm breath breezed over your face as your eyes teared up once more.
“y-yeah” you gasped trying to catch your breath.
he shoved himself deeper inside you causing your back to arch and you to moan out his name. “god that’s what I wanted to hear, your pretty little voice… now I won’t stop till I have you screaming out my name.”
he placed a hand on your cheek and smiled devilishly, hearing you moan out so desperately gave him his motivation to go rough back.
your mind was flooded with pleasure as kisaki railed into you on the desk. by the end of the night all you knew was the sound of skin clapping against skin and the squelching noises of your fluids mixing with his. all you felt was kisaki inside you, so deep you could feel him in your guts.
you watched his desperate expression as he made you cum over and over again, the smile that stretched across his face every time you moaned out his name and begged him to make you cum. all you wanted was the taste of his mouth in yours. you wanted to feel his tongue in your mouth like two dancers performing a waltz.
you came over and over again to kisaki until you had nothing left. “kisaki… ah… please stop.. I cant cum anymore.”
“oh baby i know you have more in you.” he grinned as he slammed into you faster and whined as the pleasure was getting to be too much for him too.
“ah.. kisaki.. I’m gonna…” before you could get it out kisaki started sucking on your titties as he slowed down the pace.
“i thought you had nothing left.” he laughed when he felt you twitching around him again.
“i didn’t ” you whimpered, hands coming up to his back tugging on the fabric of his vest he didn’t have time to take off.
your body twitched under him as you held onto him, the pleasure wouldnt stop. slowly he pulled his sopping cock out of your twitching pussy and started leaving love bites all over you.
“ahh it still feels…” Kisaki shushed you before you could continue
“just relax,” he said combing his fingers through your hair and sitting you up. “I went to far im sorry. I… I just wanted you to know I’d do anything, for you.”
you relaxed into his arms and closed your eyes. you knew, even if he didn’t kill those men for you, and even if he didn’t pleasure you past your limit. you knew.
“thank you kisaki…”
authors note: this was my first serious ff so im sorry if it ended weird.. I honestly didn’t know what to do. I hoped you enjoyed it either way (^_−)−☆
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always (l.r.h) part two
a/n: hi everybody! here is always part two, this is actually one of my favorite writings and one that I was looking forward to writing and posting a lot. it’s another angsty piece but with a sappy happy ending :) also it’s unedited but what else is new. i’ll probably post again tomorrow either a bestfriend!calum piece or a roomate!luke piece that are titled in my masterlist. i hope everyone enjoys and is having a wonderful day. i definitely am after that livestream today. (i would say that i didn’t cry because of how good and happy they all looked but that would be a lie) anyway i hope you enjoy and as always my messages are always open to chat or whatever and feedback and comments are always appreciated. thank you - emmy <33
pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader
summary: it’s time for you decide whether or not luke’s mistake is worth losing the love of your life.
warning(s): mentions of alcohol, cursing, angst (but with a happy ending), self doubt, insecurity, mention of throwing up
word count: 2.9k
pt. 1
The longer you watched the window the more you were convinced mother nature was taunting you. The rain droplets that cascaded down the glass mirroring the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since you left Luke speechless in the driveway. It had to be for your benefit, I mean it was Los Angeles. California was in a drought for god’s sake.
Despite the fact that nature was mocking you, you couldn’t dare pull your eyes away. The alternative was to face the endless voicemails waiting for you on your phone that glowed dimly beside you. You knew you would have to hear them eventually but right now you knew that even a breath, let alone full sentences from Luke would break you in every sense of the word. You feared the sound almost as much as the content behind it.
You weren’t ready to be okay, you needed to wallow in your pain for a bit longer. As bad as that sounds you knew it was the only way you could convince yourself to let him back in, to forgive him. It was also the only way you could forgive yourself. Your body needed to feel how tortured you were without him, how much you needed his affection, his love, and him. Not his money.
Part of you knew deep down that Luke didn’t mean what he said, the part that awakened the butterflies that had taken permanent residence in your stomach since he had entered your life. The part that caused all your senses to align when Luke kissed you the night you finally understood what it meant to love someone with everything you have. The same part that was clawing at your heart right now as your mind replayed the look of pure devastation that was painted on Luke’s pretty features as you drove away from him. That part was itching for you to run to him, to cuddle into his embrace and say “I forgive you. I’ll never leave you again. Love me?”
But, it was the other part of you that was causing the problems right now, the part that snuck up on you each time you felt secure in yourself and tore it all down in seconds. The part that told you there was no way you were good enough for your boyfriend when you stared at your reflection in the mirror for even a second too long. The part that Luke was typically the one to silence when it overwhelmed you in a crowded room, with just a tender kiss to the forehead, or squeeze of your hand. The same part that constantly craved for Luke to be proud of you the way you were of him in anything he decided to pursue. That part was completely shattered last week when, whether intentionally or not he showed you that not only was he not proud, but also felt burdened by your lack of brilliance.
“Y/n,” your friend called, breaking you from your self-loathing thoughts as she approached your brittle body, enveloped in every single fuzzy blanket you could get your hands on.
“Hi.” you croaked, pulling your stinging eyes from where they had settled on a particularly large rain droplet that had stolen your interest as you wondered how much more water it could withstand before it burst from its flawless embodiment and shattered to the sill below. You wondered the same about Luke, how much more of your insecurity and emotional baggage would it take for him to burst. How much more of your mediocrity could he compensate for before you began to strip him of his excellence?
“Have you talked to him yet?” she inquired, eyes going soft as she looked at you with sympathy.
“No.” you groaned, pulling yourself up. “Do I have to?”
She shook her head, dismissing you. “You know that you’re welcome here as long as you want, but anyone could tell that you’re completely miserable without him, even if he is being an epic prick.”
You sniffled and wrapped your arms around your best friend.
“Am I an idiot for wanting to forgive him?” you spoke into her hair.
She returned the embrace and settled next to you in the bed, “I think if he really is sorry then you’re incredibly strong for it. And you’re never an idiot, that would be your blonde haired beau.”
You laughed softly at her innocent dig, the giggle catching slightly in your throat as it had only been releasing pathetic pleas, and broken sobs for the past few days.
Y/f/n handed you your phone, the photo of Luke and Petunia sitting by the pool being almost completely covered by all the missed call notifications that had taken over your lock screen.
“I think you should at least hear what he has to say babe, for your sake if not for his.”
You let out a heavy sigh and accepted the phone, wrapping your favorite blanket around your shoulders and dragging your feet to the bathroom for some privacy.
You took a seat in the empty bathtub throwing the blanket across your body. You reasoned it was the perfect place to listen to the messages because as soon as Luke’s voice flooded the room you would be completely submerged in him and you didn’t trust your legs to hold you up.
You clicked the most recent voicemail, time stamped from 1:28 am last night. As you selected the speaker option you allowed your eyes to fall closed and without noticing or trying you held your breath.
“Y/n,”
Only one word in you could immediately tell two things without a trace of doubt. One, he’d been crying, and two he was drunk. If you had to guess you would say tequila, it had always been his favorite and he had a bad habit of nursing his wounds in the liquor cabinet. It shattered your heart to think of him broken, and vulnerable and as he continued to speak you found yourself wrapping your arms around your body for comfort.
“I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his voice cut off as a sob played through your phone. You released a matching one while squeezing your eyes tighter, a shaky hand bringing your phone closer as if it would bring him as well.
As he continued, your mind began to paint a vivid picture. You saw him sitting on the kitchen floor, an old ratty sweatshirt struggling to keep him warm, damp tear stains spoiling the sleeves. There was a half empty bottle to his side and the tip of his nose was red as it peeked out from the hood. You shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the image that felt like your personal nightmare.
“I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby.” he spoke through gasps of breath that caused worry to spread across your body.
You paused the message as a dull ache creeped up from the bottom of your stomach and to your throat which was tightening by the second. You tossed your phone onto the blanket which you had kicked off as your body heated up, and sprung out of the tub landing firmly in front of the toilet. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail in your hand you hunched over and retched into the bowl. Y/f/n burst through the door as you gagged and coughed repeatedly, she took your hair from you and rubbed soothing circles on your back as you tried to focus your breathing through your nose. This wasn’t the first time you had cried yourself into throwing up during your stay so she knew what to do to calm you down and settle your stomach.
As you finished the glass of water she had poured from the sink while you brushed your teeth she held your car keys out to you.
“Please go see him. I can’t see you like this anymore.”
You nodded accepting the keys reluctantly and made your way to your car.
Once outside you noted that the rain had started coming down harder, it seemed fitting as your situation reached its climax. By the time you got into the car your hair was wet and stringy, dripping onto Luke’s shirt that you had been wearing since the night you left. You quickly tied it back and drove away, hoping the sound of the rain could calm your nerves before you got back to your house.
When you got there the sun was setting and the rain was still falling steadily, you grabbed a jacket from the back seat and held it over your head as you ran to the house. The jacket didn’t give you much protection from the water and you were soaked by the time you reached the door. Taking one big breath, in through your nose, and out from your mouth as you had been repeating the whole ride there, you raised your quivering hand and knocked three times.
Expecting it to take a few minutes for him to reach the door you were shocked when it swung open in just a few seconds. Your heart sunk as you took in Luke’s appearance, although you were sure you looked just as bad if not worse. Deep dark circles sat beneath his bloodshot eyes, his stubble had grown in a bit longer than he typically liked it and his lips were chapped and bitten down. Guilt panged in your chest, how awful of a girlfriend were you to let it get to this point? The thought made you question if he would even want you here.
Apparently the time apart had completely fucked with your ability to read Luke’s face because even frozen in shock, his eyes began to fade into that special soft color of blue they only got to around you. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from his chest and just as it had been since the moment you left the only word running through his head was “y/n.”
He didn’t see your messy, wet hair or the ratty tshirt that swallowed your figure. He didn’t see your eyes puffy from crying or your bitten down nails that you were bringing back up to your mouth in that moment as your nerves got the best of you. All he saw was y/n. His y/n. You came home to him and as far as he was concerned you looked like an angel. Warm, sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect.
Your eyes ran over his face anxiously, waiting for him to say something, or invite you in, or even slam the door in your face. Anything. After a minute of silence you gathered up the courage to speak first.
“Sorry I never called you bac-'' your words were knocked from your mouth when Luke took a step forward and wrapped you up into the tightest hug you’d ever experienced. Your limbs fit together perfectly, and the second your bodies met you felt recharged, as if everything was in place once again. And Luke felt like for the first time in a week he could breathe.
“I don’t deserve you.” he sighed as you pressed your nose into his chest deeply breathing in the smell you could only describe as home. “Thank you for coming back to me, I don’t work without you.”
From your position in his arms you could see the mess splayed on the floor behind him. It was just as you had pictured it earlier, a thin blanket and scratchy throw pillow were scattered on the floor in front of the sink, a bottle lying on it’s side just next to them. Guilt inched up your spine when your eyes made contact with a framed picture of the two of you on top of the blanket.
“I’m sorry.” you sobbed into his chest, your hands clawing at the material of his sweatshirt.
He pulled back quickly, keeping his hands on either sides of your waist, “No baby, why’re you sorry. This is all my fault, I was awful. You...you’re perfect.” he pressed as you shook your head in distress, unable to stop your tears.
“N-no I stayed away for so long, even when I knew I wa-wanted to forgive you. I was embarrassed and...and selfish.” you struggled to speak over your tears while Luke looked down at you sad and confused.
“What’re you talking about, love?”
You sniffed and dropped your hands from Luke’s chest, “I j-just wanted you to be proud of me.” the end of your sentence was nearly lost in your sobs but Luke understood. And in that moment he regretted going into music instead of engineering, or science, or whatever would’ve helped him to invent a time machine so he could go back and beat the shit out of whoever or whatever had possessed him last week.
His hands moved to cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing lightly over your bottom lip.
“I am proud of you baby.”
He leaned in slowly, and hesitantly, almost as if he was testing the waters, like this was new. As if he hadn’t kissed you thousands of times before. You looked up at him through your lashes littered with unshed tears and nodded your head slowly. He still had so much left to say, you still had so much left to say but you both had been needing this for as long as you’d lost it. He pressed his lips to yours gently, afraid that even one wrong move and you would decide that you had made the wrong choice in coming back. He wouldn’t survive that, he couldn’t lose you twice.
As he went to pull away you snaked a hand around the back of his neck pulling him back towards you. This time when your lips collided his body sagged into it, both arms wrapping around your back and lifting you up to the tips of your toes. Your eyes drifted shut and you reveled in the feeling of him pressed up against you like this. When the kiss broke you kept your faces close enough that your noses were touching, and opened your eyes to see Luke’s still closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his forehead to you.
“You’re what I’m most proud of.” he exhaled, his eyelids still shut lightly. “My greatest achievement is getting you to love me and I can’t believe I almost blew it.”
You brought a hand to his face and stroked his cheek lightly, the feeling of his overgrown stubble foreign to your fingers.
“It would take a lot more to get rid of me.” you assured. “I think m’too in love with you.”
He opened his eyes, locking them with your own, and spoke firmly but with a softness that was and would always be reserved for only you.
“I want to make it clear that you do not in any way leech.” he dragged the last word out, laced in disgust as if it were hard for him to say. “I lucked out. I actually just seem to keep lucking out, my job, my life, and you.” He placed a hand across your jaw and tilted your chin up before continuing. “I completely lucked out with you. I have lots of money, more than I need actually and it makes me feel fucking incredible that I can take care of you. That’s all I wanna do for the rest of my life.”
Your mouth broke into a smile hearing him verbally commit to a lifetime with you.
“But, with that being said I know you don’t need me-”
“I do need you.” you interrupted.
Luke threw his head back at your words, a toothy grin overtaking his face before he pressed a chaste peck to your forehead.
“Y’know what? You’re too fucking cute. I meant financially baby, m’trying to apologize here.”
You nodded for him to continue, struggling to contain your own beaming smile.
“Anything you decide to do occupationally or otherwise could never, ever let me down. You’re physically incapable of it. I’d be a lucky guy if you let me stick around for it all and I promise to never forget that again. I’m sorry I did in the first place.” he took a deep breath before finishing his rant. “M’only able to give you the world if you let me. Let me?”
You answered his question by attaching your lips once again, desire and need radiating off of the place where your lips met. As your taste buds reacquainted themselves with Luke’s mouth you wondered how you had gone even a day without him.
Luke felt like he was flying and he couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone in the world could live without, seeing you, knowing you, and kissing you. He also knew that he would do anything to ensure that he never had to go a day without you for the rest of his life.
“How long does it take to get an engagement ring sized?” he wondered to himself.
If he could’ve read your mind he would’ve seen white gowns, tiered cakes, and little blue eyed, curly haired monsters running amuck.
“I want everything with you, the whole world.” you affirmed when you pulled apart for air.
“Yea?” he responded.
You hummed against his lips, “Always.”
#5sos imagine#5sos imagines#luke 5sos#luke hemmings#luke hemmings one shot#luke hemmings one shots#luke hemmings imagine#luke hemmings imagines#luke hemmings angst#luke hemmings fluff#luke hemmings x reader#luke hemmings x you#luke hemmings x y/n#luke hemmings x fem!reader#5sos angst#5sos one shots#5sos one shot#5sos fluff#5 seconds of summer#5sos masterlist#5 seconds of summer imagines#5sos#luke hemmings blurb#luke hemmings drabble#5sos blurbs
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hi!! could i request a diluc x fem!reader angst where they were childhood friends, and when reader gets a fiancé, diluc tries to confess his feelings but reader rejects him, gets married and moves from mondstat, and every now and then diluc sends reader letters (apologizing, asking how readers day was, hoping they come back). thanks!
unrequited
plot: reader rejects the character
contains: diluc
warnings: angsty and like one curse word, that’s all
diluc was a cute kid.
as the heir to one of the most wealthy and powerful families in mondstadt, he was polite not only to his senior, but also incredibly nice to his friends, as well. different that most boys his age, he didn’t go around yelling dumb, inappropriate jokes, and didn’t take pride in making girls feel bad.
he was always sweet to those doing worse than him in class, be it theory or sparring, and acted like an absolute saint to his adopted brother.
naturally, how could one not adore a kid like that? how could the mondstadt girls not line up to see him each time, how could the boys not want to play with him? how could anyone resist, when he had that charm to him that seemed to draw people near almost against their free will?
finally, how could you not take pride in the fact that out of all those over-the-top girls who fought over each other to talk to him, out of all those boys that never failed to bug him in each little scrap of his free time, he chose to try and get close to you?
you didn’t understand it at first, but it seemed like he genuinely wanted to know you, his eyes looking as though they were studying your expression at all times, a warm smile welcoming you each time you passed him by.
his words were careful and his sentences always strained, as if he struggled to talk, but a sense of honesty and genuine sympathy always seeped through his words, confusing your little childish brain, but also forming a warm and fuzzy feeling inside your chest.
over the years, not only did you finally answer to his advances, but also befriend the kid. his rare smiles were reserved for your eyes only, and his mind opened up before you each and every time you talked, no restrain and limitations between you two.
he’d sit behind you in class, sometimes passing you notes with an answer to questions you didn’t know, or a funny note about the teacher, or just simply asking if you want to hang out after school.
you’d go to windrise and sit under the tree, talking for hours about the most useless of things, about what you thought the clouds looked like, but also your futures, your dreams and hopes.
he’d explain math to you before every exam in the dark rooms of dawn winery, hair pulled up and tea made for the both of you, looking at your struggling with unmistakable patience and affection, but what could you know? you were kids, barely even teenagers. why would you think anything of the way he said he’ll “always be there for you” after some simple math tutoring? how could you analyze his kind stare that you never saw him wear for other people?
and so you didn’t.
he’d sit with you on the counter of his kitchen, carefully caressing your back as you wet his shirt with tears, quietly telling you that “they didn’t deserve you anyway” after your first ever heartbreak. to hell with the fact that his own heart was breaking a millimetre more with every word he spoke, if what he said calmed you in any way, he’d talk all night, going on and on about how you deserve the world, and nothing less.
you held his hand at his fathers memorial service, letting him tighten his grip on your fingers harder every time, you wiped away the tears, you listen to his sobs and pleas when the two of you were alone. you offered solace to him over the next painful months, you justified every word he hurt kaeya with, only to make him feel better about himself.
to him, you were like an angel sent from above. you restored the faith he had lost in the world, you stuck by his side and lighted up his days one after the other, how could he not adore you?
how could he not fall in love?
and trust when i say, he did really try to avoid it. he tried pushing his thoughts away, he tried focusing on something else, tried avoiding you, tried everything. no matter what he did, his mind circled back to your smile, and unconsciously he smiled as well, even if the next second he’d look in the mirror and wipe it off his face as if it was a crime to smile.
diluc was a cute kid, and he grew up to be a polite gentleman, whom you called a friend. and as any polite gentleman, he wouldn’t dare do anything to loose the honor you had given him, so he stayed silent. stayed silent since his in-class notes, through talks about the future, through your breakups, through all the times you had been there for him. in no universe would he ever mention how the weight was lifted off his shoulders every time you as much as looked his way, how all the clouds went away at the sound of your laugh, and how he was ready to do anything in the world to keep you happy.
somewhere in his mind, perhaps he thought you had somehow known all along, and would reward his efforts to not complicate your life with his emotions with loving him back, but how could you know? how, if he kept it a secret that well?
in the end, his own plan backfired on him, and he realized he had lost when you ran through his door, tears in your eyes, but a smile on your face, showing off a ring, shining in sunlight, resting on your finger.
if he ever thought “they didn’t deserve you” hurt him, “i’m so happy for you!” stabbed his soul a thousand times more painfully.
to normal people of mondstadt, there was no change in behavior from the gloomy and serious owner of angel’s share, but a few noticed how heavy his presence was, how desperately he blinked back the sheen layer of tears, glistening in the candle light while he was serving drinks, and you were off somewhere in the back, laughing with your lover by your side.
he had lost his chance, and now there was no way in which he could get you back. no way at all. all his life, he had built up a hope inside that one of these days, he’ll get a happy ever after, and lived with that thought through all the bad moments that came along the way, and now these years of carefully building this scenario came crushing down with the realization.
in a desperate search of any relief, he came to the conclusion that the only thing to be even remotely at peace with himself was to... simply just tell you.
so there he was, right outside your door, the watch on his wrist striking ten in the evening, stars shining brightly on your doorstep, as you appeared before him, merely a nightgown shielding you from the cold air of the night, a soft smile adoring your lips from the moment you realized it was him.
“diluc? what’re you doing here this late?” you said, grabbing a coat from behind the door and closing it behind you. a foolish hope sprung inside him when you joined him outside, as he stared at you with a little grin, working up the courage to speak up.
“there’s something i wish to tell you about” he merely whispered, gesturing you to come with him.
the walk to windrise was longer than the ones you remembered from your childhood days, and the sharp air nibbled on your skin mercilessly, to the point your legs hurt a bit when you reached the tree.
diluc turned your way and spoke for the first time in what felt like forever, but was thirty minutes.
“i hoped not to burden you with the secret i’ll share with you now, and i’m sorry for whatever bad outcome it might cause, but… truth is, i can’t keep it to myself anymore, and if i want to have some peace for myself, i have to trouble you with it.” he said quietly, settling worry in your gut.
“you can tell me anything” you assured calmly “your secrets are always safe with me”
he took one last look into your caring eyes, feeling a little better just having you smile at him, and took a breath before spilling.
“i might’ve been in love with you for the last ten years” he said calmly “and i know this is hardly the time, i really do, but i just-“
“what?”
you looked at him in surprise, blood audibly pumping through your veins as you tried to comprehend what he just said.
“i do understand that you’re engaged, but-“
“do you? do you, really?” you said bitterly, making his heart sink in regret. “because to me it seems like i waited for you all those years, i hoped, and i prayed, and i wished, and after i finally, finally gave up, you decide to mess with my emotions right when i thought i had them figured out?”
diluc was stunned. so you felt the same way about him, once? he could’ve had all he hoped for? he didn’t even comprehend the rest of your sentence fully, focusing on how you just admitted to having feelings for him somewhen in the past.
“no, i’m not trying to mess with you, I’m-“
“but you are! honestly, diluc, i knew you were somewhat insensitive, but this is blatantly cruel! what- i don’t- why didn’t you say this to me earlier?”
“i wish i did, but to me it seemed like you were always chasing someone else, and i didn’t want to-“
“bother me? is that it? you didn’t want to bother me so now you decided to try and mess with my relationship? god, i- i need to be alone right now. sorry.”
and with that you were out of your usual childhood spot, leaving him alone under the tree that shared both of your secrets and plans for so long.
a longing stare pierced through your back as you ran back to mondstadt, not going home right away, but trying to find a spot where nobody would find you.
“fuck” he muttered. he was familiar with the feeling of loss, but the fact that it was nobody’s fault but his own made it a hundred times worse.
diluc was a cute child, and grew up to be a polite gentleman. so he was there to apologize to you on countless occasions, ready to beg forgiveness for his recklessness and lack of thought, but you were never there to hear his pleas.
and so it went on, a huge wedding covered the streets of mondstadt in white while he stood in the sidelines, his friends said goodbye to you as he watched from a safe distance. you left, and so did every remaining proof of his embarrassment.
nevertheless, he sent countless letters, no address on the envelope, save for the name of the city, hoping that one of them would eventually reach you. sorrow and tears almost spilled from the words written in a tidy cursive, but he never had any certainty about wether they reached you or not.
and while he hoped you forgave him,
he knew you didn’t.
#genshin impact#genshin boys#diluc angst#diluc x you#genshin diluc#diluc x reader#diluc ragnvindr#diluc#diluc headcanons#genshin angst#genshin impact angst#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader
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Whumptober No. 6
Bruises / Touch Starved / Hunger
Whumptober No. 30
major character death / left for dead / ghosts
Me: I can’t believe I have to post this absolutely incomprehensible piece of writing.
Me: You don’t... have to?
Me: No, I’m gonna.
Buck has an exceptional number of pillows on his bed. There are six, before he knocks a few to the floor every night, and he burrows into them like a nest, curling up with one against his chest, two pressed against his back, one between his legs. His sheets are a ridiculously priced, cool, crisp cotton that welcomes him in, surrounding him. The blankets he uses aren’t weighted, but they’re heavy and thick and he keeps his air conditioning turned up so he doesn’t have to give up the feeling of nestling into them in the heat of summer. Along with the white noise machine on his night stand, all of it is chosen to trick him into sleep. To keep back the feeling that night time in his own apartment is the loneliest part of Buck’s day.
It wasn’t perfect, pre-covid. It’s been a long time since Buck had someone share his space, share his bed, someone he could reach out and touch whenever he wanted. But his life outside of home was full. He didn’t lack for closeness; in some ways he had more than he’d ever dreamed. So while he had lonely moments, they weren’t a constant ache in his chest.
These months though. These months hurt. Facetime isn’t a substitute for curling up on Maddie’s couch with whatever silly-labeled wine she’d liked best that week. It’s definitely not a substitute for Eddie’s couch and losing to Christopher over and over again at Mario Kart. The last time they talked, Eddie had reached over and ruffled Christopher’s hair and Buck felt it. First as a tingle up the back of his scalp and then as a bruise to his heart. Eddie’s touches, so constant and so casual, became essential somewhere along the way and Buck feels himself reaching out for them even when he knows it’s not allowed.
“Six feet, gentlemen,” Bobby says gently when their orbits swing toward each other and Eddie makes a dramatic show of raising his hands and taking a giant step backward. Bobby just shakes his head and reminds them it’s the price they all agreed to pay for not wearing masks in the firehouse.
Buck starts dreading the end of a call when taking off his heavy turnout coat leaves him feeling cold and exposed. He folds into himself, claiming a chair, putting in earbuds and crossing his arms tight over his chest, pulling his knees up even though he knows better than to put his shoes on the furniture.
It’s a similar position to the one he lies in at night, clinging to the pillows, trying to draw comfort out of the smooth fabric. In those moments, his loneliness is so loud it might as well be a beacon sent out into the universe, a burning shout of need.
And that shout is heard.
***
“Have you guys heard of exploding head syndrome?” Buck asks one morning when the calls are slow and the crew is all lingering in a lazy way rather than rushing off to take care of their other duties.
“What, the band?” Chimney asks.
“I think it was an album,” Bobby says.
“No,” Buck sighs. “It’s a sleep thing. It’s this loud noise that you hear when you’re falling asleep like a massively loud explosion. Only it’s just happening in your head.”
“Is your brain actually exploding? Like an aneurism?”
“No. It’s just the noise.”
Just the loudest noise Buck had ever heard. It woke him up with a feeling of abject terror. It was an explosion that didn’t echo. It just rang, clear and true through his eardrums like the end of the world. Even as he struggled out of his sheets, searching for the source so he could run from it, part of him knew it wasn’t a sound that left any physical evidence. What could it even be? A sound like that? An old fashioned safe dropping from two stories up? A car crash without the crunch? Just a high speed collision of two immovable objects, all of the equal and opposite reaction of their momentum forced to escape as sound.
Once his heart rate had slowed, he googled. He wasn’t initially sure what to google. “Ridiculously loud noise woke me up” seemed at once too vague and too specific but sure enough. Exploding Head Syndrome. It was what happened. Obviously. But Buck remained too full of adrenaline to sleep. As he sat up in bed, he couldn’t shake the urge to look around. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. He didn’t feel alone.
“I’m just glad it’s happening in your head instead of mine,” Chim laughs. “Maybe try putting some earmuffs on before you go to sleep tonight.”
***
The sound doesn’t reappear. Buck is relieved, but sleeping doesn’t get any easier. He tries to soothe himself with obscenely long hot baths, by ordering a hoodie that’s more fluff than fabric, by running a foam roller across his muscles, trying to pry them into relaxation. It’s so much work and it does so little. Buck’s entire body is screaming out at all times for a hug or a massage or even just a really fucking good haircut. It takes longer and longer to fall asleep and the little sleep he does get isn’t restful. It’s like whatever meager comfort he manages to give himself during the day is leached away in the night.
He doesn’t even notice the bruises at first. It’s an easy enough thing to miss. Their job is heavy physical labor and Buck barrels through a scene like a one man stampede. Bruises are as common as the smell of smoke in his hair. The ones Eddie points out on his arm though are different.
Buck’s carrying a kitten at the time. The fire they’ve been fighting is beaten back to smolders. Buck shucked off his coat, wet and dripping from the hose and too cold for the shaking animal, and grabbed a blanket from the ambulance to wrap her up and cradle her against his chest. He’s rubbing his face against her damp fur, feeling the softness like a concentrated shot of endorphins when Eddie asks, “What the hell happened to you?”
“What are you talking about?” Buck asks and Eddie’s hands are pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his shoulders while Buck’s trying to hold onto the cat.
“You don’t feel that?”
“Feel what?” He’s maybe a little ruder than he means to be but the sleep deprivation makes him cranky and the touch deprivation means that Eddie’s gently probing fingers feel like a dream on his skin. The care in the brush of his hands makes Buck’s knees weak.
“Your arms are bruised to hell,” Eddie says. “Are you- Did someone grab you or something?”
“I swear to god, Eddie. I don’t feel anything.” Except grumpy and exhausted and longing.
“Jesus, it goes all the way up your shoulders. It looks like-” He stops, pulling Buck’s collar aside and tracing a small spot that Buck can’t see even if he turns his head. “They look like fingerprints, Buck. Are you seeing someone?”
“What!”
“These are handprints. And they’re dark. Do you really not-”
Buck wrenches himself from Eddie’s grasp so he can turn around and look at him because if Eddie’s really accusing him of putting everyone at risk by trying to date someone right now… But Eddie’s face is nothing but concerned. Which makes Buck scared.
“Is it really that bad?” he asks, clutching the cat to his chest.
Eddie rubs a hand up Buck’s back (it feels so good, hot like Buck’s t-shirt isn’t even between them and is it just because it’s been so long or just because it’s Eddie?) without looking around to see if Bobby’s watching and that’s really all the confirmation Buck needs. It’s bad.
***
After that, Buck starts to feel them. He wakes up and he can’t breathe. He wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up on the floor. He spends every moment that he’s asleep fighting to wake up. Buck can only remember fragments and pieces of the torment but he knows that it feels like drowning. Like being held down. Like being grabbed and pulled and smothered. He thinks he remembers long dark hair.
Google is useless. Sleep apnea. Sleep paralysis. Sleep terrors. Even sleepwalking. None of them can account for the worst of it. For the physical signs of whatever is happening to him while he sleeps.
Bruises bloom blue on the pale skin of his hips. Purple on his ribs. Green on the back of his neck. The ones that Eddie saw first on his arm fade to yellow. A long scratch runs down the side of his face. Dark circles under his eyes grow darker every day.
“What’s happening to me?” he asks his reflection.
All he wants is to be able to ask that question with someone’s arms around him. He wants anyone to hold him tight and shush his fears and tell him that it’ll be okay.
It’s easier than he thought to hide it. Buck just chooses his shower times strategically and opts for a long sleeve uniform, complaining that he ruined his short sleeves ones by grabbing bleach instead of detergent while he was half asleep.
He’s always half asleep these days.
At least in the bunk rooms, he gets some semblance of rest. Whatever presence he feels in his own bedroom doesn’t cross this threshold and Buck sleeps deeply, almost missing the scream of the alarm.
“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” Eddie asks, cornering Buck in the locker room. Buck can’t help but nod and Eddie steps closer as if to touch him.
Buck flinches away and Eddie pulls up short as though hitting an invisible wall.
He breathes Buck’s name on a pained exhale and says, “You have to get some help. Whatever it is…”
“I don’t know what it is!’ Buck answers. “It’s living in my house and it- it- God. Maybe I need an exorcism.”
“Maybe you should come home with me,” Eddie suggests and Buck recoils again.
The firehouse seems safe but there’s no guarantee that Buck won’t be followed anywhere else. He’s desperate to be safe--desperate for Eddie to make him safe--but not at the expense of anyone else. Not when he doesn’t know what he’s facing.
“Okay,” Eddie says. “But call me in the morning.”
***
The burned girl screams louder when she sees Buck than she did while they were putting out the inferno of her car.
“Stay away from me!” She shrieks. “Stay awaystayawaystayaway.”
“Miss, we’re going to need you to calm down,” Hen says to her. “Buck, you wanna move aside? Like preferably somewhere she can’t see you?”
Buck does because the patient’s well-being is more important than anything, but his skin feels like ice. He wants to demand to know what else she sees when she looks at him. Wants to know how she knows. For half a second, he imagines following her to the hospital and waiting for her outside the glass doors.
They aren’t far from her house (52% of accidents happen within five miles of home) and the girl’s father arrives on the scene before they finish prepping her to be transported. And he sees Buck.
He freezes when he does, but at least he doesn’t scream. He ignores Buck completely, instead going to the ambulance where his daughter is still crying and trying to soothe her. Hen offers to let him ride in the ambulance, but he says that he’ll take his car.
“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he says, returning to Buck as the ambulance pulls away. “What you summoned… That’s not a normal ghost.”
“I didn’t summon anything! It just happened.” Buck’s voice is high-pitched and he just barely stops himself from grabbing onto the man’s arm, but the man doesn’t seem afraid of Buck the way his daughter was. “What is it? How do I make it go away?”
The man shrugs, “She came in through an open door. Which door depends on the person. But she’ll do everything in her power to keep it pried open. All you can do is try to close it again.”
It is… the least helpful advice Buck’s ever been given in his entire life. But the man’s daughter is on her way to the hospital and he needs to follow her. He vanishes.
***
They’re about to have four days off. Buck’s bracing himself to meet the woman in his dreams. To look around in that dreamspace for open doors and slam them shut again. He can do it. He has to.
***
The next night Buck wakes up and he can’t move. He’s paralyzed on the bed. He’s paralyzed on the bed and someone’s standing at the top of his stairs.
She’s not… right. Buck can’t quite see in the dark and he can’t lift his head but the woman on his stairs isn’t solid in the way a human should be. The outline of her is strong, but it’s like she’s a shell wrapped around a cavernous emptiness. She’s across the room but she’s already pulling at him.
Buck tries to thrash but his arms are pinned as if her hands are already on his wrists. He needs to reach the lamp. If he can just turn on the light.
“Get away from me,” he pleads and the part of her face where lips should be turns up, revealing pointed teeth that stand in front of a void.
“You called me,” she says. The words don’t come from her mouth and Buck doesn’t hear them with his ears. It’s wrong wrong wrong. He throws himself hard to the left and he rolls, flying further than he expected to, suddenly free, and crashes hard into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. It shatters, bulb and all and pain scrapes across Buck’s shoulders.
“Poor boy,” the ghost mocks. “Poor lonely boy. Just wants someone to touch him. Just wants someone to stay with him. I heard you.”
“No,” Buck says and he tries to scramble, but his feet can’t find purchase on the floor. “I didn’t want you.”
He doesn’t deny the call. Can’t deny it when his heart is reaching out in the same pleading, desperate way now. Please. Anyone.
In the time it takes to blink she’s in front of him. She’s so close. She shouldn’t be able to get that close without standing on him but she’s there. Her voice whispers in his mind, “You should choose your words more carefully.”
And then her hands are around his throat.
The pressure is insistent and her motive is unmistakable. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to squeeze the life out of him. He’s going to die here and Eddie’s going to find his body because Eddie’s going to come rushing over as soon as Buck doesn’t call him in the morning and what if this thing is still here waiting for him.
Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
Buck’s mind yells for him like his lungs did when Eddie was buried except now it’s Buck who’s too far away, who’s trapped somewhere deep and dark with no hope of escape.
He tries to breathe and his breath whistles. It’s like the first time someone handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and he tried to drink through the plastic stir stick. Black stars twinkle in the room and tears build in his eyes.
Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
There’s a shift as she adjusts her grip and it’s enough for the stars to clear. Buck throws himself forward, shaking his head like he isn’t a ragdoll trapped in the jaws of a rottweiler, like he has a hope of breaking free and then he does. The ghost is thrown off balance and Buck jumps, scrambling back over his bed for the stairs. He can’t even think about defeating her, finding out the secrets of where she came from, closing whatever fucking door he left open. All Buck wants to do is live.
A force behind him swells like a wave to lift Buck off his feet and slams him into the bathroom door. He expects to slide off of it and onto the floor, but he’s held in place hard, his head turned and his cheek pressed to the wood, toes just brushing the ground.
“You begged me to come,” the ghost hisses. “I’m here for you, lonely boy. Don’t fight so hard.”
A hand skims up his back, nearly gentle, but leaving a numbness in its path and Buck shudders in disgust. He jerks against the door, but his arms are wrenched behind him and he screams. He realizes it’s the first time he has.
“I didn’t call you! I don’t want you here! Get out.”
“I came because you needed me.” A long finger trails down his cheek and Buck whimpers. She’s taller than him now. Was she always? “I could feel you from so far away. An aching ball of need. I’m here for you now.”
“I don’t need you,” Buck growls and the room flashes like lightning. He hopes to fall, almost expects to fall, where he can scramble again but instead, Buck is hurled away from the door completely. He has time to see that he’s above the stairs, throw his hands out uselessly and then he’s frozen.
Buck hovers there in the air above the stairs, dangling in the grip of the ghost, like a cat grabbed by his scruff. Kicking wildly, he grabs for the invisible hand that’s holding him, yelling “No, no, no, no.”
“Need me now?” the ghost asks.
Smothering the terrified part of him that nearly answers yes, Buck forces himself to stop twisting and just hang there. He doesn’t want to fall. He doesn’t want to die. But what he needs isn’t going to come from the ghost.
“No,” he answers.
And he can’t explain how he knows what her face looks like when it’s screwed up in fury, but he does. It’s vicious and vindictive and Buck’s not surprised at all when he’s flicked away from her and down the flight of stairs.
He seems to hit each one as he falls, something that should be impossible with the speed that he’s traveling and the force with which he bounces off of them, but the ghost is obviously responsible. Air leaves his lungs as his ribs crack against the stairs. His elbows and knees scrape. His head bangs the rail. Buck’s long, long legs seem to tangle as he falls, cartwheeling him down and he lands in a heap at the bottom.
As he tries to figure out if he can still move, the door flies open.
Warmth rushes in. Buck hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten since he first woke up, but the room seems to thaw around him. It’s like sunlight.
It’s Eddie.
“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan. Buck. I’ve got you, Buck. I’ve got you.”
Tenderly, he scoops Buck off the floor, unsnarling the mess of his limbs and feeling all over for the damage he can’t see. “I’ve got you. Open your eyes. Come on.”
The ghost stands at the top of the stairs and then she’s at the bottom. Buck clambers backward again, digging his heels into the floor to push himself upright in front of Eddie, to try and hide him from view. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the ghost. All of his attention is still on Buck, stroking his hair, promising over and over that he’s there, that he has Buck.
All of the ghost’s attention is on Buck too. “You need me,” she says. “You called for me.” She sounds different now. Bitter. Like Buck wasted her precious time.
“I don’t need you,” he says and he reaches behind him to grab Eddie’s hand. “I already have everything I need.”
Lights flicker and that impossibly loud sound bangs in Buck’s ears again. He gets one last look at the ghost’s vicious, violent visage and then she’s gone.
And then Buck wakes up.
#whumptober2021#No.6#touch starved#no.30#ghosts#fic#911#strangulation#nightmares#beating#ghost fight#look idek#911fic#evan buckley#eddie diaz#i can't stress enough that i have no idea what's happening here#does this ghost represent something?#she definitely should!#and yet!#she is but a misguided creature of the underworld!#there are 24 more prompt days left?#what if I'm not allowed to write more than 1000 words for any of them?#because whatever i'm doing now is unsustainable
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