#he needs to put that tongue away or i will [redacted]
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busted (3tan) (teaser) | myg
teaser: busted (m) (3tan10)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call
rating/genre: m (18+) ; [redacted] ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: [redacted lol just trust me]
note: alright, listen.. the chapter is coming along but plans and life got in the way so i wasn’t able to get it done before tour. however, i do have a lot of it written/halfway done, so i feel comfortable enough to offer y’all a teaser and will finish it out once i’m done with this trip. i do hope y’all understand, 3tan is coming back v v soon ! :’))
note 2: as for the rest of this chapter.. fuck lol
warnings: none for teaser, final list to be named on drop day!
est. drop date: late may - early june 2023
teaser wc: 1.8k
est. total wc: 15-18k
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Here goes nothing and everything.
It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.
A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.
Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.
Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.
In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.
Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.
But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.
And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.
There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.
However.
What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.
A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.
They change with or without you.
And they pass by.
“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.
But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”
When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”
“Okay.”
When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.
All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.
Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.
But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.
During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.
You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.
Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.
And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.
Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.
But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?
Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.
A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,
“You okay?”
Fuck.
Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.
And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.
When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.
Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.
The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”
Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.
Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”
“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”
If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.
But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”
“You sure?”
“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”
He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”
It’s weird to say it.
But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”
“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”
“Oh, god.”
“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”
Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.
“Who are you seeing?”
“Kook…”
“I wanna know.”
“Why?”
He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.
And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.
Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.
“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”
“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”
And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.
Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.
Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.
“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”
The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.
All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.
“You did.”
Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.
Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.
Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?
With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.
And, just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.
Because they are still the same.
You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.
“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”
You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.
But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.
He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.
“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”
“I know.”
“Do you really?”
He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.
And you’re going to.
“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”
His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.
You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. Nights you spent wondering what happened, days you spent feeling unwanted, times you felt so fucking alone.
“Is it true that you even loved me?”
“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”
Did.
“I still do.”
Liar.
“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”
“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”
When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.
“I’ve regretted it every day since.”
“Bullshit.”
“I have!”
“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”
“No, I—”
“All those calls you never made.”
“I wanted to call!”
“You wanted nothing to do with me!”
“No! That’s not true—”
“Liar!”
He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.
“I’m not lying!”
“You are!”
You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.
But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.
Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—
There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,
“What the hell’s going on in there!”
Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?
…Were you both that loud?
“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”
“Open up.”
“No.”
“You better be serious—”
“Promise!” You spare a look at your door. “We’re okay.”
“…Okay.”
Even though it’s completely silent.
You know damn well he hasn’t left.
Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the sear of his questions flaring up later tonight.
Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to rip the door open and tell him off,
“Dude, I said I’m—”
Oh, fuck.
Yoongi’s right there with him.
And your heart fucking lurches.
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tbc. :’)))
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ahh how do we feel !! 💌 would you like to buy me a 🍊?
A/N: soooooo here you go before i continue with the rest of vacay!! LMAOO wouldn’t it be so funny if the whole chapter drops by surprise like y’all are wanting it to? just like this? wild....
A/N 2: always always gonna thank everyone that’s reading and supporting the series! there’s gonna be a lot happening in this chapter just like forfeit, so note-taking or bulletpoint format while reading might be a thing again if you wanna be able to remember things.. ahaha. pls give me strength bc i need it T^T
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more links:
⇥ three tangerines masterlist
⇥ 18+ only taglist!
⇥ masterlist
#ehehehehhehhheh#bts imagines#bts reactions#bts fic#yoongi fic#three tangerines#bts fanfic#yoongi angst#*latest#ryenwrites#teasers#3tan10#yoongi smut#yoongi#btshoneyhive
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cat got your tongue
the way miguel o'hara sunk his claws into my heart and i can't shake him. he makes me REDACTED and REDACTED like... anyway- this is a part 1; its just kind of 'world building', im working on the shameless smut that will be uploaded later today most likely. i didnt beta read cause i dont believe in that shit im sorry. WILL LINK SECOND PART HERE
summary - miguel doesnt understand how to properly convey the emotion commonly known as "concern". he instead criticizes you until youve had enough and finally rendered this explosive man silent.
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there are few instances in which a sentence dies on miguel o’hara’s tongue; his vocal cords ricocheting against each other like live wires. his voice kicking up white hot sparks of thought, that sizzled against the unfortunate soul caught in “conversation” with him.
now, one of those instances had dropped itself right into miguel’s lap. he was reprimanding you for putting yourself into harm's way again. you two were dealing with a particularly difficult anomaly, with jess and gwen on the sidelines making sure to grab any pedestrians in danger. a strike of electricity surged through your spine, making you look over your shoulder to find miguel pinned down. a large slab of the building you all were in had landed on top of miguel's right arm, pinning him down to the concrete floor beneath him. the anomaly was charging him, ready to seemingly rip his head clean off his shoulders by the way he was positioned.
your body was sent into overdrive, sprinting forward, you attached two webs from each of your wrists to the ground in front of you. the webs slingshotting yourself forward towards this monster; your foot landing square on the side of its head, successfully shifting its attention towards you. you heard miguel shout out in the distance behind you as you lead this thing away from the others; for you or the others you couldn’t recognize.
everything was going according to your half haphazardly calculated plan, until you slipped up, fucked up your web placement and your focus just shattered. you were smacked down to the cement far beneath you due to a hunk of debris being slung your way. you dodged to main concern but you lost all footing you had and began to plummet. a shrill shriek ripped itself from your vocal cords as you fell, desperately reaching outwards with your wrists pointed towards the sky; praying that one of your webs would connect to something stable and allow you to swing away.
your left shoulder slammed against a ledge that was jutting out from the wall, you tumbled some more until a buzzing neon red tendril enveloped your torso and caught hold of you. all the air you had desperately been gulping down to calm yourself was sucker punched out of your body, your whole being snapping in the opposite direction of which you were falling. you were borderline lifeless as the web quickly pulled you up to safety and your other two teammates took over the fight. two strong arms held you to a rock hard chest, albeit heaving sporadically, sucking down oxygen in gulps. your head was supported against a strong shoulder, a tender hand grazing your more than dislocated shoulder. you grunted in pain from moving it and you heard a whispered apology above you.
hands kept grabbing onto the painful joint, shushing your groans of pain and ignoring your weak hand; you could hear a voice telling you that it needed to be popped back into place. you didn’t really know what he was talking about. everything was spinning and you were in so much pain. tears were slipping down your cheeks; but you didn’t even notice until gentle thumbs soothed them away. just as quickly though, those same gentle hands were distorted into iron fists; they latched onto your injured shoulder and twisted the joint back into the socket with a stomach turning pop and CRACK. you let out a yell that died into a low growl of agony. it was only a moment or two later when you felt a sharp pain in the meat of your trapezius muscle; and the relief of numbness spread through your whole body. you realized you had lost movement in all of your limbs but you were too out of it to care. you passed out only a few minutes later.
after a few painful weeks in the medical wind of the spider-society hq, your accelerated healing made it a fairly easy process; you found yourself in this little argument with miguel. he called you into his office, via lyla, claiming he needed to speak with you about the latest mission. you hadn’t seen miguel since the mission; which pissed you off to a cartain degree. you always made sure to check up on him when he got injured more than usual on missions.
it was downhill from the moment you stepped foot into that dark intimidating office. the only light that ever shone in that space was the dim orange light from his many screens. he was in your face the second the door closed behind you; immediately going on about how impulsive you are and how you jeopardized the mission. and it went on like this for about five minutes. every word that flung out of his mouth, every humiliating criticism of your actions, tore away at your resolve. you liked to think you had gotten used to miguel’s hot headed, hair trigger temper. this “conversation”, however, was very quickly making that sentiment false. eventually, you had to retaliate against the onslaught of ridicule.
“have you ever thought for a second, in that thick ass skull of yours, to thank me for saving your fucking life?! after everything i had to endure for your ass, to make sure you were okay.” your sudden interruption of miguel's unforgiving words, struck him into silence. you pinched your nose bridge, trying to get a hold of yourself, it was a habit you had picked up from him. miguel opened his mouth to argue back, despite something in the back of his mind screaming at him to shut up. stop fucking talking, you’re going to regret where this goes. thankfully before he could get his sentence out, you once again silenced him.
“the first things you speak to me after the mission are criticisms. that’s what you brought me to your office for.” you run your hands over your face, exasperated by the scenario playing out before you right now. you’ve never found yourself speaking to miguel like this before. “you have your head so far up your own ass you can’t comprehend that this is cruel. either fucking appreciate my help or don’t bother me; cause clearly speaking about the gorey details doesn’t effect you but it certainly exhausts me. i’m not gonna entertain this shit.” your voice was wavering as you rambled on. all of your pent up frustration with this man finally spilling over and out into the universe.
“you didn’t even visit me.” it was barely above a whisper, but it rang in miguel’s ears louder than anything he’s ever heard. you didn’t wait for him to respond when you left the room, the doors swung open for you automatically. with a swift exit of speed walking with assistance from your webs, miguel was left alone in his office.
#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara fanfiction#spiderman smut#across the spider verse#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 imagine#spiderman 2099 smut#miguel o'hara angst#spiderman angst#across the spiderverse angst
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Me and my silly self indulgent fics hehehe, set before violence lmao honestly was just feeling some kinda way wanted to put May through the suffering and I had really fun dialogue / writing idea things, even though he's not mentioned by name REDACTED belonging to @oogaboogaspookyman is in this, just tagging for correct credit feel free to ignore lmao
Digimon two electric boogaloo (I promise this is the last one, also set before violence fic so it fits in the time line I'm allowed XD)
She stood swaying idly in a dark dress that didn't suit her, it was personally designed and crafted just for her but the dark colors didn't reach her eyes, she was dressed up for a higher being by a higher being, she was but a doll to accessorize. She has no orders, her eyes half closed heavy lidded, swaying slightly on the spot almost in a trance within the grand room, a throne room he'd crafted for himself, with twisting shapes and spaces that defied physics, he'd tried to make it unlike any structure that's ever existed wanting no trace of humanities influence. And yet what need does he have of a throne room?
Many feet tapped across the marble floor, a tall inhuman creature approached with intrigue, feminine almost and red, its appearance was familiar but her eyes didn't regard them. As they approached smaller insect like digimon crawled off of their body, Dokugumon vicious spider like digimon that looked like large tarantula crawling along the walls and around closing in, they had horrible mouths and claws on their toes horns forming from their masked like faces and a skull and cross on their abdomen as dark red ginger hair spiked from their heads, from them smaller digimon KoDokugumon smaller yellow and black striped spiders with orange fur hair they were almost cute but they were vast in numbers, all of them were the red spider queen's children as Archnemon approaches the largest of them all, her horns big and proud her humanoid torso on powerful spider legs causing her to tower over the human still stood in a trance, unable to move even if she wanted to run, unable to scream as danger approached.
"When I heard that creature had secured a human puppet I didn't think it would be my lost dinner," her voice was gleeful and dark as she stood in front of the human her children stood around laughing snickering ready for mother to rip open the rare human delicacy. She leant in close tilting her head as she observed the human closely, she didn't smell afraid or like her usual scent, she reeked of that powerful virus but under that her human flesh still smelt succulent. Despite Archnemons intelligence and cunning she was short sighted when it came to her hunger for rare foods or experimental subjects, her large hand grabbed effortlessly around the humans whole neck and shoulders, they made something of a gasp but felt limp almost, and Archnemon didn't stop to consider why. With her other hand she ripped through the fabric and seams of the dark dress ripping away the stomach segment before ripping further upwards to just past the humans ribs below the breasts lest she want access to the more secured rare organs. Her eyes were agleam in delight at the sight of the jagged scar she'd left from before, fascinated by the structure of the human form while a Digimon would've perished and reformed as an egg a human remains and gains discoloration it seemed. Would it taste different she wondered as her mouth drooled.
Teeth plunged into soft stomach flesh greedily ripping and tearing away hunks of meat, the scarred segment had a different texture on her tongue as she bit and devoured, the human only made something of an exhale going limp in her hold. Her children excitedly chittered as she swallowed, warm fluid known as blood running down her chin and splatting onto the floor as she breathed heavily laughing softly in thrill of the taste.
"What do you think you're doing."
The virus' tone was cold and hostile as he materialized in a humanoid form behind her taking the face and form of one of the other humans with flowing corrupting energy flowing from the shoulders and back like wings or tendrils, dark spikes poking through the hair of his form like a dark crown, Archnemon turned her head slowly to regard him, blood still clinging to her face as she grinned with teeth.
"Ah, there you are, I come with news." Her hand released, the human dropping with a thump, "it seems you underestimated the others, they've defeated two of your soldiers as of now, they are nearing my domain, I want full rights to be allowed to do with them as I please, they're more valuable to me alive." The virus was watching her with unusual intensity beginning to slowly approach.
From his shadow dark sprawls of energy shot out along the floor rapidly covering every surface plunging the whole room into blackness, Archnemon paused looking around finally sensing the danger she was in as teeth dragged the Dokugumon down into the blackness with crunches and screams for their mother as their physical forms were torn to shreds their data clinking and shimmering being drawn into the blackness while the KoDokugumon were simply snatches up in greedy maws on mass their data making a faint sparkle of a sound as they were destroyed. His human form distorted as blackness grew over him growing larger and more threatening as he loomed over the humanoid spider digimon, white pupils narrow and locked on her. Her breathing was quickening and panicked as dark tendrils crawled and wrapped around her legs to prevent her escape, gasping in pain as the tendrils grew teeth that sank in to her data beginning to slowly rip away at her physical form like maggots. Every noise was pained as she let out a weak yell attempting to pull away from her restraints only to fall forward onto her hands tendrils grabbing her to stop her pulling upright, she could feel the teeth scraping against her tearing away at her slowly.
"I don't understand?! I have been nothing but loyal to you and your cause?! Why do you forsake me?! How could you destroy my kin and devour me!?" She hollered up towards the mass of teeth and eyes looking down upon her without any regard for her.
"Of course you don't."
His jaw opened and he plunged into her abdomen with his teeth ripping through her viciously she squelched and crackled screaming as he began to tear away mercilessly and carelessly throwing the body parts aside as they shattered into data absorbed into his body as she yelled in agony before her body glitched fading in color and breaking apart into pixels that scattered before joining with him. He heaved a frustrated breath as the darkness retracted back to his body, stepping through the blackness of his form into his humanoid form as he approached the human still on the floor.
He crouched down putting his fingers to her neck as he took in the state of her wounds, she was still alive thankfully breathing faintly. He sighed as he touched the ripped fabric of the dress before dark liquid poured from his fingertips into her open sore wound, the liquid spread over her internal organs repairing damages and replacing her missing kidney before beginning to build itself around the wound edge and pulling it as closed as he could manage before the liquid simply had to replace the missing skin tissue with itself. It would do for now, and it was certainly a good fail safe if necessary in future. Slowly he slid his hands under her form and picked her up with a sigh, despite what he'd done she'd still need time to recover.
He moved without really walking, gliding almost along through his castle, his kingdom. Her body wouldn't be able to withstand travelling through the data makeup straight to her room, so he had to take the long route. The door opened as he approached, moving effortlessly inside, it was a simple but large room but quite empty, it had a bed and wardrobe but they were vastly spread apart, and a walk in suite. The wardrobe opened on its own spitting out alternative clothing, pajamas mimicking that of her ones back on earth, simple cat themed things black trousers with white paw patterns, black pajama top long sleeved with white text and a cat image, he found it almost amusing her wearing his color scheme. Carefully removing the ruined dress fabric from her body, glancing briefly at his hand where it had become bloody from a soaked piece of dress from around her stomach he wiped his hand off on what was left of the dress before throwing it aside and carefully redressing her in the pajamas not really acknowledging her form before placing her under the duvet. He scoffed a bit to himself, all this effort for one little human that he would destroy later, he wondered if this was why humans kept chickens as pets or at least alive for a few days before eating them, brief entertainment and whatever use they may have before the pleasures of enjoying the tender flesh.
He sighed, running a hand through the hair of his form before tilting his head back, emitting an inhuman sound from quite literally his throat as it split revealing blackness and unsurprisingly more teeth, something of a low screech that echoed through the building. From the floor two large digimon were summoned through the data system, Megadramon and MetalTyrannomon, large hunkering dinosaur beast like digimon that were almost too large for the room had the data not manipulated and shifted to make room.
"Destroy anyone who enters this room that isn't me. And do not allow any harm to come to the human. Or I'll harvest you both."
Voice cold, calculated and sharp, he was already leaving the room without regarding the panicked nods from the ultimate level digimon. They regarded each other uncomfortably, MetalTyrannomon shifting to rest and guard slightly further away from the bed as Megadramons body twisted and curled to crane it's head down and regard the sleeping creature breathing a puff of warm air that nearly blew the duvet off from the bed which it just barely caught and put back the Megadramon quickly decided to move and instead lay down besides the bed on the floor as well.
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It was many hours before he returned to check on the state of the human, ensure it hadn't perished from something stupid or unseen. He'd been able to make a replacement for the wretched spider queen using Kelpymons great power and his corrupting data to mold and create a powerful dark digimon hopefully one that would kill the other humans or at least maim them enough to stop their progress. In honesty he didn't care about killing them himself anymore he was tired of playing with them after all they'd served their purpose. Of course he did still want them to suffer, make them watch their world be destroyed before succumbing to destruction themselves. He growled to himself quietly at a flash of red in his peripheral vision, he turned to look but found nothing, that vile creature, he's sure it existed in that color to mock him, such a disgusting beast didn't deserve to be in red, that was a sacred color after all.
His data form passed through the structure of the nearby wall stepping into the room and immediately feeling his brows fall into a scowl at the snoring of the useless ultimate digimon. His focus was then brought to the disheveled duvet half laying across the floor and no human upon the bed, had he not heard the running water pattering he may have disintegrated the worthless beasts on the spot.
Dark spikes pierced through the sleeping creatures bodies before they could even gasp in shock, their bodies shivered glitching and data shattering quietly in seconds as he glided towards the ensuite without acknowledging what happened. His nose wrinkled at the sudden slap of the steam against his face as he stepped into the room leaving the door open. In the corner of the shower box he spotted the human huddled up on herself hugging her knees to her chest trying to hide away like a child and crying. He blinked slowly as he thought, moving to turn off the running water of the shower and hearing her quietly gasp and hiccup to herself in fear that did send a delightful tingle up his spine as he sensed her terror and dread. Seems the human was back in control and she was oh so terrified and scared.
He moved the shower door out the way and crouched down moving a hand to grab hold of her cheek as she attempted to bury her face deeper into her knees, lifting her head up before holding her chin, he could so easily damage her, lurch her body bruise her flesh even tear it from her muscles as he looked at her, her eyes were red and puffy as water and tears ran down her cheeks, he could see the dread in her eyes himself reflected in them the fear in her face and the quivering of her lips. He moved his hand, tilting her head to observe her. Humans had such fascinating faces with an array of possibility in expression it was just a case that most of them, no, all of them really were so ugly in their existence. He'd only ever known one person to have a face that was beautiful…
She whimpered quietly under the intensity of his gaze and he had to fight to not grin. She was starting to shiver now as the cold crept in. He could see just slightly on her side the black scar that was now left behind from the earlier attack and he saw her hand move to try to hide it as his eyes roamed back to her face.
"You're not immune to catching earth illnesses here even if you are digital,"
He spoke casually as his hand pulled from her face.
"You'll catch a cold if you stay there."
He stood as he pulled a towel off of a hanging rack holding it towards her as his head turned away. He needed to keep her mind fragile, keep her confused; it'd be easier to put her back under if she wasn't fighting him so he wouldn't give her a reason to.
"What happened…?" her voice was very small and quivered as he felt her take the towel from his hand, inside his body his many mouths twisted into sadistic grins but his human guise remained neutral. How broken she must be.
"Oh, can you not recall?"
He had to be tactful, if she caught him out in a lie she might start fighting and release Kelpymon from it's corrupt state which would really mess up his plans. She shook her head even if he couldn't see as she wrapped the towel around her form moving to hold the black scar on her side, her head was so heavy and full of fog, she remembers it hurt it hurt, but right now it didn't, she'd expected his horrid corrupting virus matter to be destroying her from the inside.
"Did…did you do this?"
"I did the best I could to fix your wounds if that's what you mean, but I was not the one to inflict them. I hadn't anticipated the others finally following you here, or them making it here so quickly."
He could sense her energy levels increase a low excited surprise.
"I must say I did expect them to try to help you with some,"
He waved a hand casually,
"familial love is magic nonsense."
He felt her emotions drop,
"to mutilate your own sibling though…"
His tone drifted in a thoughtful manner as he sensed her body grow tense with bubbling anxiety,
"I'd expected them to try to free you, I had a plan for that situation. I figured well they'll try to bring her to the light or something or other, and if they succeed that just gives me more fun. And then your blood was shed."
He slowly turned his head to regard her, he could see her eyes still red from crying had lost any previous glimmer or spark, he put on an expression of sympathy.
"They didn't stop to think, or try to understand… for all my planning, I was left baffled…"
He could see her chest rising and falling rapidly, the way her breathing was struggled as she tried to keep it level and failed. He moved casually, taking a hand towel and bringing it to her face slowly, she flinched just slightly as he started dabbing away the tears that had started to fall again from her sad little eyes. He heard her choke a soft gasp hiccuping as her tears fell, he cooed a gentle "shh" continuing to wipe away her tears.
"Now now sweet thing, there's no need for that, no need to waste anymore tears over them, you're safe again now."
She sniffled as she looked at him with her big confused eyes, he could already tell she was getting more confused, the lines between himself and the other who's face he stole becoming blurred, the memories of good and bad muddied and washing away making her head nice and hollow for him. He was still pleasantly surprised at just how impressionable and moldable her empathetic and traumatized little brain was, he knew just the right buttons to press.
"it is a shame you had to go through this traumatic event, many humans have done the same to me, tried to pull apart my data and find out how to destroy me, I thought they might be more sympathetic to one of their own.. I should have known better.."
His voice twinged in a way of sadness and she touched his arm softly, her empathy just too deliciously stupid. He brought his hand to touch her hand giving it a pat in gratitude.
"Sweet little May,"
He could practically see her eyes briefly sparkle at the affection of his words.
"I will leave you to recover from the ordeal you went through, but I will not be far."
He took her hand to squeeze it before moving to let go, finding her trying desperately to keep hold of his hand for comfort following him as he pulled away. He had to stop his smile from becoming cruel.
"I won't let anymore harm come to you I promise, but you should stay here, you do need to rest. Let me take care of you."
He pulled his hand away and she stayed he could see her eyes showed the slight sense of lingering confusion and wonderment before her pupils dimmed slowly into comfortable empty numbness, her eyes lidded slowly as she finally slipped back into the dark comforting drowning puddle of her brain that swaddled soothed and killed her leaving behind her body for puppeteering. He sighed, wiping his hand off his sleeve casually as he left the vessel to take care of itself and tuck itself back to bed.
In some sick way it was a bit fun getting the chance to play with her again, she was such a soft broken little mouse now and it made for an interesting new dynamic. Maybe he could keep pressing keep nudging poking until it splintered her mind entirely? Make her fully dependent and loyal to him without his influence controlling her, like a lost little duck, now that would be quite the shock for the others. He's sure it wouldn't be that difficult, he did have the face of her old fancy and it was clearly causing confusion in her mind with their roles seemingly swapped. Her siblings the antagonists her old enemy, the one keeping her safe and her ex. He couldn't help chuckling, her ex didn't even know she was here and didn't know the hurt she felt over 'him'.
He couldn't wait to pull the blindfold from her eyes upon the completion of his plan. Reveal his lies to her that she was being used, that she was but a stupid pawn and easy target, feel her anguish, confusion, fear and complete and utter isolation at the sight of her burning planet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he salivated at the thought of her terrified screams, her weak punches and kicks as he ripped into her flesh to take out the last human in a glorious feast. He had to wait of course but he could plan it at least, proud in himself for not just devouring her earlier but the spider had been satisfying enough. Though, maybe he should eat the other digidestined to… make her watch perhaps? Hm..so many options and he had plenty of time to decide.
#My writing#My oc#Oc May#@oogaboogaspookyman REDACTED#@oogaboogaspookyman oc#Tw blood#Tw mutilation#Tw spider imagery#Tw eaten while alive#Tw violence#REDACTED just mcmurdering constantly#And also lying through his fucking fake teeth not even his face and he's lying through those teeth#And confusing the fuck out of May with his fake kindness because last time she was in control they were literally fighting to the death#And he drowned her in his corruption to control her so she's like *confused noises*#Also again him mimicking Monochromes appearances with some artistic differences is also confusing and crossing wires for her#She's just deeply traumatised and brain fucked rn from mind control so she's incredibly vulnerable and he knows it#To some degree this May has probably always wanted someone to take care of her as she's always been there to care for her siblings#She's always been the oldest sister despite them being triplets lmao adultified to shit always to oldest the carer never the cared for#Hence her immediately just going back under his control at him suggesting he'll care for her because he knows the buttons to make her give#He's just an evil bastard manipulating and lying#Literally only has her around because Kelpymon is basically like in my hc super op dark digimon love him mwa uber powerful#And like that's very good to have such a powerful beast on your side and uses the overflowing energy to make minions to do his bidding#And obviously once he destroys the humans world and all humans and then her siblings he's gonna then destroy her#She's his endling I mentioned in dms that she represents his victory via disbanding the digidestined and the power he gets from Kelpymon ec#So like he loves her in the twisted sense she represents him winning hence immediately destroying Archnemon for nearly ruining that#But he only loves what she represents to him now he'd rip her apart in a heartbeat the moment she's not useful#Or attempt to shove scraps of old broken data from someone else into her body in a twisted resurrection#Whichever comes first#Also fun for me wants to eat her but also doesn't taste her blood despite the opportunity idk something something character complexity#Also lmao dissing the whole human race 'yall ugly as shit' REDACTED 2023
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evan buckley + 👅
#evanbuckleyedit#evan buckley#911edit#911#911 on fox#gifs i make#he needs to put that tongue away or i will [redacted]
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I'm BACK, E!
I know I shouldn't. I already asked for stuff. But here I am, shamelessly knocking on your door with more asks. I absolutely loved the angsty sweet David/Asher moment!! You are singlehanded putting that ship in my brain and I am being dragged out to SEA!
So I'm going to chance another ask, obviously you can ignore it if you've got enough already or you're just not into it. But I would love a little David/Asher slight AU, no listener characters, just them, moment!
❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜
<3 <3 <3
Domini, you GENIUS, this ran away from me in the BEST WAY.
no mate au, slow burn culmination, featuring: patching up your best friend, fuckboy chrissy, and sharing one bed. >:3
redacted asmr: david/asher, rated teen, 1.7k wordcount.
READ ON AO3.
Asher and David clean up Christian's mess after a bad break up.
-
It's normal to be a little in love with your best friend, isn't it?
-
lean on me (you idiot)
It’s not often that their pack has a run in with other wolves. Especially not on home ground. David and his father had taken the time to build up their reputation, taking pride in the little family that bore their name.
And then Chrissy had to go and fuck it up, of course. Little prick couldn’t keep his dick in his own pants to save his own life. Or his arm, anyway. Asher will never know what Amanda had seen in him.
…and well, he won’t, now. She’s in South Dakota, with her folks, and Christian is still here.
Fucking around.
As always, it’s up to him and David to clean up the mess. David would take all the responsibility if he could, but after everything that's happened lately, the events of the new year still so fresh in their minds, Asher knows when he needs his second in command.
And so he helps. Patches up the relationship with the neighbouring pack, offers to help with the repairs to the trashed clubhouse where the fight had broken out. Gets involved in said fight when Chrissy makes another smart comment that nearly has the whole thing setting off again.
Speaking of which…. he flinches at the swipe of a wet towel against his temple, his hissed curse catching in his throat as David grabs his jaw to hold him still.
“Don’t move.”
“I told you, David - I’m fine.”
His grip tightens, even as he pulls back just far enough to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and steady. There’s that stubborn pull to his mouth that tells him that David’s not gonna budge on this, and fine. Fine.
“I’m going to heal it. It’ll hurt more if you don't keep still.”
Asher releases a long slow breath, holding his gaze. He - he doesn’t want David wasting any more of his time and energy on this mess than he has already.
But still, he tilts his head in his grip, giving his alpha the access he’d requested, even if he’s less than happy about it.
“Don’t waste all of your energy on me. Just - enough to stop the bleeding.”
David clicks his tongue, that disapproving twist to his lips again as his hands move over him, firm but gentle, carefully examining the cut above his temple.
“I’m not going to leave you with a scar.”
Asher cracks a grin. “What’s one more to add to the mix?”
“Ash.” There’s enough warning in his tone, even without the low rumble of his growl, from deep within his chest.
“Alright. Do what you need to do, big guy. I place myself in your hands.”
David hums, soft and low, his touch still gentle before he takes in a long breath. “Breathe easy, Ash.”
He does as he’s told, even if the light brush of David’s fingertips sets his skin on fire. A breath later, and it’s his magic too, warm, edged with that raw, animal power that comes from shifter magic.
Close. Intimate. Nearly too much.
…the headrush from the magic, too. He takes a breath, two. He feels - lightheaded. Almost drunk. His scalp tingles, even as David uses the cloth to wipe away the last of the blood. He leans into him, suddenly dizzy.
“..sh. Ash. Are you okay?”
David’s palms cup against his cheeks, broad palms wide and warm on his skin. Asher remembers when they were kids and their palms would line up, fingertip to fingertip. It’s been many years since they’d compared, but he doesn’t think they'd match anymore.
“Ash, look at me.”
It’s the note of panic in his voice that does it, that gets Ash to pull his eyes open again - when had they shut? - and meet his gaze, his dark eyes wide and worried, and shit, he didn’t mean to do that.
“I’m… okay. Really. ‘M just… feeling the effects, is all.”
His eyes get caught on David's lips as they tug down into a frown. He’s always frowning. Asher can’t remember the last time he heard him laugh.
“..sh.”
He blinks, glancing away from his mouth - although it’s harder than he thinks it should be. “Mmm?”
“Can you walk?"”
Can he? Maybe. He pushes off from the wall where he’s been crouched for the last half hour, bloodied towels scattered around him - head wounds bleed like a bitch - and tries to push to his feet. Except, he doesn’t get much further than his knees before the dizziness overtakes him again, and he collapses back against the wall, a pained groan slipping through his lips.
“Probably not,” he admits. “S’okay. I can- wait, David–”
The air whooshes out of him as David lifts under his arms, pulling him to his feet. His arm wraps tightly around his waist, while the other tugs his over David’s broad shoulders, until they’re pressed flush against each other, and Asher can feel every exasperated breath that escapes him as he starts moving towards the door.
“Stop being such a stubborn ass. I’ve got you.”
There’s a joke there, about the pot calling the kettle black, but that can come another time.
–
Somewhere on the road to their shared apartment, Asher falls asleep, his uninjured temple resting against his folded arm as he slumps against the window. It’s only when they’re parked that David wakes him, even if it’s only to wrap his arm around his shoulders again, half-carrying him through the lobby of their building to the escalators.
It’s normal to be a little in love with your best friend, isn’t it? And if Asher leans in a little close, grips him a little tighter, who’s to know?
David is gentle as he leads him down the hall to his room, helping him with his belt and his jeans, until he can put him under the sheets. There’s more of those fleeting touches, soft and ever so fucking careful, prickling goosebumps along his skin, before he goes to leave - and Asher reaches out to snag his shirt sleeve, drawing him to a stop.
“Wait.” David’s eyes are dark on his, steady; the absolute opposite to how Asher is feeling right now. His heart is trying to beat out of his fucking chest. “I… I want you to stay. Please.”
He wishes he could blame it on the head wound, or the healing. He’s sore and aching, sure, and the world is still tilting a little on its axis - but the fact of the matter is, he doesn’t want to be alone.
He's been alone for so long. Dealing with Chrissy's fucking mess brought it all back to the fore, and he - he’s sick of it. Sick and tired, of being so close to what he wants, and yet so far.
They haven’t been close like this in a long time. Not since that one night after graduation in college, where the alcohol had flowed a bit too freely, and they'd woken up in bed together.
(They don't talk about that night, even if Asher does find himself thinking about it, from time to time.)
Still, it’s a lot to ask, and there's a long pause, where Asher is convinced David is going to turn him down. He’s readying himself to make an apology, to blame it on the healing - when David surprises him.
“...scoot over.”
He does, watching as David shimmies out of his jeans and climbs into the bed beside him. There’s a question waiting on his lips as David turns towards him, his dark eyes focused, before he reaches out to push his hair back, tracing over his temple.
His touch lingers, warm. It takes everything Asher has not to lean into the touch.
“How does it feel? I’m… not as good a healer as I should be.”
His palm slips down his temple, to his cheek, and Asher does let himself feel it then, his eyes flickering shut, David’s palm warm and broad and callused to the touch.
“You did good. It doesn’t hurt. S’ just… been a long week.”
“You didn’t have to come with me.” There’s a disapproving note to his voice now, and it wouldn’t be David if there wasn’t a lecture, ready and waiting on his tongue at all times. “You’re still recovering. I can deal with Christian’s fuck ups by myself.”
He opens his eyes then, and David’s flick back up to meet him, that little furrow between his brows again. He’s going to end up with wrinkles. “But you don’t have to.”
David’s lips purse, and Asher can’t help the way his gaze is drawn back down to them, the softness he remembers on those long nights, when he can’t distract himself from his spiralling thoughts. The heat of his breath. The way his hands had felt on him.
…fuck. He lets his eyes slide shut again. He was usually better at this. Keeping himself in check. It was - the magic, and the head wound. Yeah.
“Ash.” David’s voice is hushed, soft and low and close - so close he can feel the rush of his breath against his cheek. When had he gotten that close? “Look at me.”
Taking a steadying breath, Asher does, glancing up to see - David, close, so freaking close, eyes dark, pupils wide, wide enough to swallow him whole.
“You can kiss me, you know?”
He’s dreaming. He must be dreaming, right? But then David’s thumb traces down his cheek, pressing at the corner of his mouth, and fuck it - if he’s dreaming, then he was going to make the most of it, and he presses forward, closing the distance between them.
David’s lips are just as soft as he remembers, and the noise he makes, soft and low, a groan he can feel beneath his fingertips as his hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens - it rocks him, to the very core.
He’s breathless when they finally pull apart, the both of them panting, shared breaths in the scant space between them. “Fuck.”
David laughs, then, and it’s soft and open and honest, and christ, he’d missed the sound of it.
“Not after a head wound. I’m good, but I’m not that good. I want you in…prime condition.”
Fuck.
His fingers tug at the back of his neck, a request as much as a demand, and then they’re kissing again, soft and sweet, and Asher doesn’t feel alone anymore.
#redacted asmr#redacted davey#redacted asher#asher/david#ej writes redacted#okay I love this one#slow burn culmination!!#asher in this au is a little more damaged#but he's always had david. and david has always had him.#this was FUN to explore#and yes. many thoughts.#writing
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green umbrella trees
or: you don't need to be a scientist to measure the size of the universe. he's right here in your living room.
gn!reader, soft soft fluff, no content warnings, although it's really quite suggestive at times (is that not par for the course with gavin?). ginger's first foray into the redacted asmr tag and wow, i might have to do this more often. first one to tell me where the title's from gets extra brownie points! gavin learning what home is for just over 1200 words.
"now, where could you possibly be…?"
of course. of all the times he could have chosen to rift into your kitchen, it's while you're buried headfirst under the sofa looking for the dropped tv remote. of course it's sunny today, unexpectedly warm, so you're wearing decidedly less than normal. he doesn't even need to say it - you can guess exactly what sort of things are about to come out of his mouth.
"aha! there's my lovely deviant."
yep, here it comes. your fingers close around the stupid remote as strong arms, slender and sinuous, wind around your waist and pull-
"mmm, that's more like it - as much as i was enjoying the view before, i must say that seeing that gorgeous face of yours is much, much better."
he's got a point - everything's better when he's right there in front of you. gavin's pulled you backwards into his lap, sitting on the floor, with one arm wrapped around your back to prop you up against his shoulder, and the other hand tilting your chin up to meet his eyes.
he's warm against you, relaxed and easy, just like always. oh, he really is a picture like this, all close up and pretty, hair falling into his face, eyebrow cocked, eyes gentle and bright with laughter, soft lips pulling into a smirk-
"what's the matter, deviant? cat got your tongue? i was under the impression that that sort of thing was my job…"
well, it would surely be a crime not to kiss that smug look right off his infuriatingly handsome face, wouldn't it?
kissing gavin is… how to put it? he likes to describe it as a full-body experience, but you think it's more that he just likes to be close to you. and to be fair, it's always a good thing when gavin's kissing you - his hands roaming your body, gathering you up nice and close while your fingers twist into his hair and your nails gently scratch across his scalp. the living room is full of warmth.
mmmm. his lips are soft and kind as he tilts his head, tongue brushing lazily against yours as his hold on your waist tightens just slightly. outside, a few stray clouds drift peacefully across the sky. he tastes like summer sunshine.
you smile contentedly against his sweet mouth, humming lowly as he pulls away, eyes still closed, to bury his face in your neck and start pressing kisses there instead.
"do - mph - do you think the others enjoyed our - mmm - little dinner party yesterday? we certainly seemed to get - mph - get damien all fired up."
that's right, you'd had the boys round for dinner yesterday. exams had finished on friday, so it only made sense to celebrate together. gavin had certainly got into the spirit of celebration, if the distractingly-tight shirt and inability to detach his mouth from yours had been any indication.
granted, the others are all very used to gavin's signature level of affection - seeing as he makes sure they get kisses too, with not-insignificant amounts of enthusiasm from all parties involved - but you're pretty sure that lasko might have seen some of your more… risqué antics when gavin had been sitting next to you during a round of mario party.
"oh, he definitely noticed. he seemed - nnng - ever so flustered during our lunch date today."
of course! that's why gavin had been back a bit later than usual - lasko's lunch break is slightly longer on mondays, so the pair of them always have lunch together in his office at DAMN.
(hux joins in when he's got the chance, but he'd said he'd come shopping with you and damien this morning instead - it takes all three of you to find a birthday present for damien's mother. not because she's especially picky, it's just that damien's very indecisive when it comes to spending money, so you and hux have appointed yourselves as his personal entourage to make sure he actually gets her something.)
normally, lasko wouldn't have work today, seeing as exams are over and it's the end of term, but his supervisor had just called him in to check up on his DAMN 101 class - making sure everything was in order, and he hadn't been pushing himself too hard. he won't have work for the rest of the holidays though, so you're looking forward to going over to his on thursday for video games and food.
"nng - oh, deviant, i think you might have missed me toda- mmf!"
maybe it's a bit presumptuous of you, but the curve of his smile and the fond look in his eye (and the fingers sliding under your shirt) seem to say that he missed you too. he certainly doesn't complain about your lips interrupting him.
as good as his hands feel on your skin, maybe the living room floor isn't the best place to give gavin free reign. you've learnt that particular lesson before - no need for details.
"mmm- oh? well, i suppose you're right on that front. care to take us somewhere a little more… comfortable?"
you certainly do. your bed is comfy, and the two of you have been known to spend quite a lot of time there, but if you settle in there then you might not leave for a while, and you'd like to finish watching your show sometime today.
it takes some effort, seeing as neither of you are in a hurry to untangle yourselves from each other, but you eventually manage to get him laying down on the sofa, propped up against the arm with your head on his chest. when he sighs, deep and peaceful, you feel it more than hear it.
your legs tangle up with his. the living room is still and quiet.
minutes go by, or maybe hours? it's hard to tell. time passes with the beats of his heart, strong and steady under your head - and isn't that how it always is, for you? a strange and unknowable universe, that marches along to the beat of his steps next to yours.
stars explode into life and shoot across the sky at the murmur of his voice in your ear, tired and husky after a long day. galaxies fall into place with the line of his shoulder, the curve of his hip, the slide of his palms across your back. open arms, beckoning you towards him. that inescapable gravity that pulls you in to him, over and over, no matter the distance, no matter the journey.
he takes the universe in his stride - it follows behind him, waiting on his word, lapping playfully at his heels. everything else is dark and cold, but wherever he looks is life, bright and light and loud and wonderful. your world is the size of his voice. your living room is the size of his love. your heart is the size of his hands. you measure the whole world to him, and nothing ever compares.
his heart beats on. maybe you're asleep, maybe you're awake. it doesn't matter. you dream of him either way.
"my sweet little voyeur. you do know what you do to me, don't you?"
elastic snaps against skin. outside, the sky stretches on forever.
"there's nothing like you, not for me, not anywhere else in your world or mine. i must be the luckiest demon alive to know you. how do you do it? you look at me, and all of a sudden i fall apart."
water splashes over sand, joyful and unrestrained. the living room is full of light.
"sleep well, lovely deviant. i hope you dream of me."
masterlist
this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute
#redacted asmr#gavin x reader#gavin x freelancer#redacted gavin#redacted freelancer#redactedasmr#ginger writes#gingerbreadmonsters#redacted fluff#redacted asmr fluff
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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.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fic#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu fluff#miya osamu angst#miya osamu fic#osamu x reader#osamu fluff#osamu angst#osamu fic#hq x reader#hq fluff#hq angst#hq fic#hq osamu
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distance learning (m)
banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits
summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit
pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader
genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted]
w/c; 6.1k
a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy
click here for part 1: remote learning
drabbles; 01
if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚
It’s been a week since the thing.
The remote-controlled vibrator thing.
The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing.
Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!
At least, he thought you did.
“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.”
People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more?
“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.
Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.
“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently.
“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?”
“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”
“I did it for you.”
Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied.
[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?
[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck?
“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice.
“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore.
Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend.
“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.”
This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week.
The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts.
The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid.
No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted.
Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck.
Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point.
He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost.
His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.)
“Fuck, Hobi!”
Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool.
The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood.
“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.”
Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough?
You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought…
No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse.
He hates this.
You hate this.
It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later.
Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all.
You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him.
Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he.
Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you.
If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back.
Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed.
Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting.
[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me ☠️ what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white?
Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response.
[12:09] Jungkook: ???
You frown, wondering what you said wrong.
[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?
[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out
[12:10] You: why?
[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny.
Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes.
Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you.
“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?”
“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.”
“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.”
It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you.
You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back.
As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!”
The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest.
“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic.
“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door.
“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.”
“Well then, can you relay a message?”
“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?”
Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.”
“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.”
“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.”
“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers.
Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.”
Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident.
When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep.
And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty.
Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family.
[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry
[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule
[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll…
This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television.
You don’t reply until very late into the night.
[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble
Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten.
[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry.
[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short.
[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves
[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face
[10:16] Jungkook:
[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?
Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed.
[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face
[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with
[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf
He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy.
Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat.
Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too.
[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night
[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued
[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :(
[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview
[5:08] You: PNG.0901
Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off.
He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin.
It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable.
[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed
[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆
[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder
Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically.
[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night
[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13
He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough.
[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨
[5:35] You: MP4.234
Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt.
“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm.
His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.
“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!”
Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start.
Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s.
Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen.
He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok.
Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder.
Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes.
The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you.
You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms.
He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hey,” he replies.
“It’s Saturday.”
“It is Saturday.”
You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton.
“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—”
You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”
Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait.
Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?” he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day.
“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously.
He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees.
You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good.
“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.”
You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick.
Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum.
“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.”
This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure.
“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely.
“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?”
Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle.
He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger.
“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm.
“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.”
“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.”
“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?”
It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb.
On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment.
You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.”
Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips.
“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair.
You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.
“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—
Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch.
“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty.
You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving.
“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?”
“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!”
“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.”
You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions.
“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric.
“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.”
It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion.
“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—”
He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on.
Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight.
“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.”
You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board.
“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.”
Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order.
bonus.
“So.”
“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair.
“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt.
“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!”
“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?”
“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.”
“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words.
You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?”
“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.
The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory.
“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest.
Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite.
#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#btsguild#btswritingcafe#btsghostie#kwritersworldnet#jungkook fic#bts smut#bts fic
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dedicated to the lovely @himboksj happy (very late almost criminally late) bday present! so whew... there’s a lot happening in this one! return of jock!jk and his wonderful girl oc now featuring!!: squirting, creampie, oral (fem receiving), mild choking, biting, boobs in face!!, anime tiddy mentions, praise kink galore, multiple orgasms, the use of a vibrator, jaykay is sick actually, over-stimulation, mild spit kink, dommish!jk, (redacted) pet name, mentions (and watching) of porn, everybody is in love and horny, crying cause the dick too good, fingering but not really. 5k of words that should have never left my brain. listen to continuum & nothing without you by tanerelle (kindly check masterlist for the pretty boy drabble mini masterlist if you want to read the rest of this au!)
Jeongguk didn’t mean to go snooping through your things. It was 100% accidental. He just remembered that you kept some athletic tape in your drawers because Jeongguk usually needed to wrap his knee or ankle after practice and you ensured that he always had some near (in case he came crashing at yours instead of going back to his dorm after Coach brutalised him during drills). And, anyway, you were at a point in your relationship where Jeongguk didn’t necessarily feel the need to outright ask you if he could poke around your drawers. Of course, he respected your space, but it’s not like he wasn’t nosy when you were best friends. You were in the shower too, he didn’t want to bang on the door and ask where you kept the tape.
Imagine his surprise when he reached the final drawer in your dresser, idly rummaging around for the blue athletic tape he knows is buried somewhere, and his fingers latch around a silky cloth instead. He knew what it was immediately, the shape a dead give-away. A discreet bullet vibrator, stuffed under your unnecessarily large collection of fluffy winter socks. Perhaps he stopped breathing, the twitch in his loose workout shorts undeniable. He’s not surprised that you own one and yet, his brain can’t fathom you using it. Even now, Jeongguk’s still growing used to seeing you come undone around his length, the feeling of your walls tight on his cock as your mumble his name. It drives him mad. He’s seen you in every kind of state; sobbing hysterically, laughing until tears slip from your pretty eyes, stumbling drunk in the streets, eyebrows furrowed with anger at him, that soft tiny grin you grant him on good days, the pout your lips settle into when you don’t get your way. He never fathomed he’d ever see you in that way, skin flushed with heat, eyes cloudy with ecstasy, your heat pressed against his own. He finds new ways to fall in love with you every day but it reaches new heights when he’s deep inside of you. Maybe he’s mildly obsessed with seeing you unravel, but that’s a secret he keeps to himself.
He does take a peek at your toy though, a soft velvet-like purple vibrator. It’s cute actually, something you would definitely purchase. But then the sound of water hitting the shower tiles slows down and Jeongguk swiftly tucks the toy back into your drawers.
“Oh?” You say when you open the door to him standing stiff in your room. The steam from the shower wraps around your figure in gentle wisps, sunlight filtering in from the window behind you, the image of an innocent angel appearing right before his eyes. “You’re here.”
“Practise ended early,” Jeongguk returns, his gaze trailing the droplets of water that slip down your skin. You smell good, just like that vanilla and peach shower gel that you dearly love. And the towel hiding your body is loose. It’s not his fault that he’s hard in his pants. When he moves to hug you, your face contorts, a downward tug at your lips that Jeongguk longs to change with a kiss.
“I’m wet,” you whine, brushing past him. “Go shower, you always stink after practise.”
He huffs, strong arms catching your fleeing figure and quickly wrapping you into his chest. “No. Don’t want to. I missed you and you can’t even hug me? You’re so mean to me.”
“Guk-” Jeongguk cuts that complaint with his face in your neck, lips colouring your skin rouge with a kiss that intends to leave a mark. “You can’t,” you mumble, but your fingers settle on the nape of his neck, tangling in the growing strands of his hair. “I have to get to work soon.”
“It won’t take long,” Jeongguk returns, feathering kisses across your skin as he nudges you to the bed. “I promise. Let me do this, I’ve missed you, bunny.”
Your towel is discarded somewhere in the amble to your sheets, your thighs wrapped around Jeongguk’s face a second later. He watches your body carefully, teasing your clit with purpose before he allows himself to slip his tongue deep. He notes the twitches in your thighs, the way your buck your hips against his face. He ignores his desire, for the time being, nose buried at the apex of your cunt, tongue covered in your slick, his lips latched on your clit. You like it fast, purposeful sharp flicks that make you squirm until Jeongguk has to pin your hips down, the lave on your heat brutal. His brain can’t help but wonder how you’d behave with your toy grazing your clit and his cock burrowed deep. You’re so sensitive, response to even the softest kiss he lays on your cunt. Would you be wetter than this? You’re already dripping down his face, his mouth glistening with your desire. But he wants to see if you can do more than this, squirm more than this, make a bigger mess than this. The thought surfaces as he feels your body lock, the tension in your limbs drawn high as your hands reach for his. You cum on his face with your fingers intertwined, his name falling from your lips as the afternoon sunlight hits your skin. It’s then and there that Jeongguk decides, with his mouth wet from your release, he’s going to see you squirt one day. For him and him alone.
He waits for the moment to naturally strike, silently scheming wicked thoughts every time you crawl into his sheets. It happens one evening, an empty bottle of wine at the foot of your bed and hentai porn playing brazenly on his laptop screen. Somewhere between downing the bottle and cuddling in his sheets Jeongguk had mentioned an uncanny resemblance between your gigantic chest and the anime boobies he’d grown fond of since his introduction to hentai. You’d immediately dismissed him, whacking him hard on the head and then Jeongguk had to prove it to you, opening his favourite website and pulling up a video that had your jaw-dropping.
“Your boobs do that, you know,” he says. Which grants him a sharp kick to the shin.
“Jeongguk, what is wrong with you?” He can tell you’re not annoyed, but there’s a lilt in your voice that makes him pause, doe eyes flicking to your face. You may be kicking him under the blankets but your eyes are stuck to the video, a distance glaze colouring your gaze. He can tell by the way your thighs draw together that you’re not as averse to this as you pretend to be.
“Turn it off,” you mumble.
“Why? I can tell that you like it.”
“Jeon, I’m not joking.” There’s a glare paired with that sentence, but he reads right through it.
“Fine,” Jeongguk offers, fingers already typing what’s been on his mind since the day he discovered your vibrator.
“What are you—oh.”
There’s a quiet lull. He clicks on a video that’s more familiar to him than he’ll ever willingly admit out loud. It starts the way Jeongguk prefers it to, with a man on his knees, his head buried between the thighs of a girl.
“What are you doing, Guk?” A warning. A question. Jeongguk is not sure what you mean by that and he’s too hesitant to take a look at your face to decipher the tone in your voice just yet. He takes the jump instead, hoping you don’t mind the fantasies of his mind.
“Have you ever squirted?” Somewhere between the exchange of words in Jeongguk's room, the man on his laptop screen slipped two fingers into the girl. It doesn’t help that your boobs are falling right out of your loose camisole, resting right on his bare arm.
“Jeongguk,” you return. “Answer my question.”
“Answer mine first,” he looks at you then, trying hard to read your eyes. There’s no heat in your face, just an innocence that colours your features. Wide eyes, your legs draw together, a hard swallow that he sees in the low lights that illuminate the room.
“No,” you say, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “So why are you showing me squirting porn?”
It’s then that Jeongguk realises he wants to ruin you. As horribly cliché as it sounds, he longs for that. And the urge for it doubles when your gaze falters, flicking quickly for the screen before drifting back to his. The couple is still fucking on his screen, hard quick loud thrusts that travel to the pit in his stomach fast. He’s hard in his briefs, a painful throb ebbing through his length when your hand drops to his chest.
“Guk?”
He shuts the laptop, the moans cut off, a heated silence taking its place. The bed feels too big when he gets up, ignoring the confused look you give him.
The vibrator is exactly where he left it, oddly comforting because it means you don’t use it. You have him after all. But he needs the toy for tonight.
“What? Guk? What’s go—when did you find that?” You’re embarrassed, he knows it from the way you squirm under the blanket. He glances down at it, finger pressing the switch that turns it on. A quick run through shows ten decent vibrators at different levels, it’s rather intense even in his hands, the low buzz that it emits filling the room forbidding before he shuts it off.
“A couple of weeks ago,” he says. You groan, your head dropping into your hands.
“Put it away, Guk! And don’t go through my stuff ever again.”
“Why? I think it’s cute.”
“Cu—what is the point of this, Jeongguk? I don’t get what you’re trying to do?” And there you go, staring at him with those wide ingenuous eyes. So trusting, so clueless. He draws closer then, considers taking his underwear off so you can see just what you do to him. But when your gaze drops he halts. It’s not about him tonight. It’s about you.
The bed dips under the weight of his as he says it, the toy still in his hands. “I want to see if you can squirt.” He sees the way your back stiffens, the raise in your brow.
“I’ve never done that,” you splutter, falling back as Jeongguk crawls over you.
“I know. But you can.”
“I can’t, Guk. I don’t think I can.” Your pretty lips are drawn into a reluctant pout, but there’s a bright curiosity sparking through your gaze that Jeongguk knows all too well.
“See, you don’t think you can. You said that before. And then I made you cum five times in a row.”
“No that was different—”
“We’re just seeing if you can. We don’t have to if you don’t want to but I think it’d be fun to try.”
You pause, trying to ignore the heat blooming between your legs as you weigh the decision before you. There were times when you thought you were about to, an edge in your orgasms that felt dangerous. But your body never let you go there fully, drawing back from your slipped from heights you couldn’t handle. You can tell Jeongguk won’t grant you the same precautions. His eyes a dark, toeing a line that feels forbidding. The covers are gently pulled from you, Jeongguk staying silent as you ponder. But the moment the cool night air hits your skin you know what he’s asking for. It’s a strange level of vulnerability, a bareness that makes your skin prickle. He wants something that you’ve never given anyway else — not even yourself. It’s a lot to ask for and his directness makes you pause. The hesitation crumbles when his hand settles on your thigh, wide warm palm gently nudging your clasped legs apart.
“We really don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Jeongguk says, honey eyes locked on you. You know he’s being honest; he wouldn’t push it if you said no. And yet, something twists in your stomach. You want this. The realisation is sudden and you don’t know if it’s because of how perfect Jeongguk looks tonight. Chestnut curls a messy halo on his head and his shirt hanging loose from his broad shoulders. Or maybe it’s how he looks at you as if this is the only he’s ever really wanted in the world. As if you’re the only thing he’s ever really wanted.
“I want to—I mean I want to try.” You let yourself fall open then, something clicking as Jeongguk slots right against you perfectly, your sleeping shorts bunching up when his hips roll with intent. His lips land on your neck a moment later, a kiss so soft that you don’t feel it at first, lost in the way he hits your clit when he bucks into you. Jeongguk draws you back with a bite, one sharp enough to leave you gasping, your back arching from the sheets. He lets his hands slip under then, the vibrator momentarily forgotten as he maps your skin, lips feather-light once more, kisses gentle enough to leave you delirious.
“So good to me,” Jeongguk mumbles, eyes drifting to your lips. He draws close then, mouth fitting yours in a dreamlike perfectness. It’s flavoured with wine and want, a clear hunger in how he parts your lips. The hands that grip you are hard but his lips are gentle, savouring the taste of you against his mouth as if he wants to commit it to memory. The softness of the act has your skin tingling, bright and wild yet slow like the turning of the Sun. When you part, the air is different — charged, the current that swims through the atmosphere finding a home in your body as it settles in the depth of your gut. Jeongguk doesn’t give you time to ponder, mouth trailing from the corner of your lips to the hollow of your neck where he bites. It hurts enough to shock your senses, sweeping you back from the heavenly haze to the alarming reality of what he’s about to do to you. Your whimper hits the air as his tongue presses into the mark, painting your skin dark. A pointed reminder. You’d thought Jeongguk would be possessive, but sometimes he surprises you with it. The purposeful touches, the harsh bruises he likes to leave high on your neck. Or anywhere on your body, really. There are times he’d press his fingertips into them when you’re willing enough to let him choke you, the flash in your eyes spurring his hips forward.
For now, he busies himself with breathing a new one to life, one you know he’ll play with tomorrow — or later tonight if you give him the chance. Your brain can’t think that fair, zoning out as his mouth works a claim on your skin. Eager fingertips are drifting down your thighs, brushing past the band of your sleeping shorts. It’s expected that you’re already wet, but Jeongguk delights in his find with a muted moan in your neck. His fingers don’t go further though, grazing light against the damp fabric of your underwear. The swivel of your hips is automatic but Jeongguk quickly stills it with a hard press of his palm into your skin. You’re forced into the mattress, freezing when he finally wanders from your neck to your chest. So slow, wet lips idly trailing until his face lands between your chest.
“Gukkie,” you hadn’t realised how gone you already sounded until you spoke, voice wavering. He hums in response, non-committal, his hands shifting from your hips as he focuses on freeing you from your top so he can get your boobs in his mouth.
“Don’t tease me today.” You’re trying to sound firm, pliantly raising your arms so he can get you bare. But that firmness shrinks when your eyes land on his. So dark in the dwindling moonlight bleeding through your half-open blinds.
“Why?” There’s that smile of his, one corner hung higher than the either. You’ve sunk yourself in a sea brimming with sharks. “You sound cute when you whine, bunny.”
“Jeong — fuck.” There’s no point in protesting when he’s buried himself between your chest, tongue already toying with your nipple. Too many guys before him had misunderstood how to touch you there, but Jeongguk knew — he had learned. Studied your body so that he knows when to nip or kiss, shifting from pain to pleasure until the line blurred and so did your vision, until the only sound filling the room are harsh breaths and the quiet murmur of his name. Your hands eventually stray to his head, the heat in your core demanding attention as you guide him down. Jeongguk complies, not because he doesn’t want to tease you any further, but because he loves tasting you too much to ever say no.
The sight he finds sends an ache down his length, already hard but now leaking into the fabric of his grey sweats. You spread yourself so easily for him, light pink panties coloured dark with your wetness.
“Cute,” Jeongguk whispers, falling naturally into his place between your legs. It wasn’t meant to grace the air, but he’s glad it did when he notes the bashful smile tugging at your lips and how you twist to shift your head into the pillows the closer he gets. Which, honestly, makes him pause. He wants you to watch, needs you to. Something in the base of his brain needing constant affirmation that he’s making you feel good driving his next set of movements.
The hand on your chin is unexpected and adamant. You can’t help but give in, wide-eyed when Jeongguk forces your gaze onto him. “Need you to look bunny, can you do that for me?” The nod you give him is instinctual, heat blossoming in your bones when Jeongguk smiles, satiated and proud. Perhaps you should have put up more of a fight, but how could have known what he would do with only the tender touches he’d lift as your guide. Even the quick kiss he plants on your clothed cunt revealed nothing of what’s to come. So gentle as he pulls he fabric down your hips, discarding it somewhere in the sheets, his eyes never leaving the wetness on your lips.
“My pretty girl,” he says, nipping the inside of your thigh. You squirm at that, futile because Jeongguk just held you closer. “All mine, right bunny?”
“All yours,” you return, voice far and your mind slipping from your hands. Jeongguk apparently takes that to heart because he devours you, nose burrowed in the apex of your cunt, breathing you in as his tongue mapped the velvet of your walls. It doesn’t take long for your legs to wrap around his head, back raising from the bed and the drip of your slick coating your inner thighs. Yet, Jeongguk relishes it, forgoing breathing as he eats you open, toying with your clit as if that was his sole life purpose. You forget the world with a speed that should concern you, thighs trembling with each determined swirl of his tongue over that bud. Again and again, until you spill into his mouth, wet and creamy, creating a mark of your own on his lips. He keeps you there, unrelenting even when your whines hit high and your chest heaves. There’s a ringing in your ears as the high wanes away, which is swiftly placed by a quiet mumbling that sinks into your skin.
“Tastes so good,” Jeongguk murmurs, licking between your folds. “So fucking good.”
“Jeon,” Something twists in your gut when he drops a final kiss onto you as if he was thanking you for letting him do that when you should be the one on your knees thanking him. When he softly drops your leg to the soiled sheets you decide it quickly, already shifting onto your elbows.
“Yes?” Such innocent eyes staring back at you like he didn’t just fuck you open with his tongue.
“I want you too,” you’re already shifting but Jeongguk is quick, fingertips hard on your jaw when he halts you. He knows what that means, reads it in how your gaze drops to the crotch of his pants, wet just like you were. But that’s not what he wants, besides, he’d rather save that for other places.
“No.” When he says that you almost deflate, but then Jeongguk drops his hand from your jaw, swiftly dragging his shirt over his back and off his body. There’s nothing that can suffocate the desire that blooms in your chest. He’s so beautiful, hard lines and warm skin, kissed by the Sun herself. There’s an itch in your palm instantly, and you hastily register that if you don’t touch him you might die. Yet, your eager hands are pinned over your head, wrists wrapped tightly in the grip of one of his wide calloused palms. There’s a brief moment where his attention is caught by the bounce of your chest before you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that you’ve never asked Jeongguk to fuck your tits before. But as you stow that away for later concern, Jeongguk’s other hand drifts to the discarded vibrator, sinister now in his command.
“Don’t want to fuck your mouth, bunny. It’s not about me tonight, it’s about you.”
“But—” Jeongguk swallows that protest with a quick kiss, the taste of you on his tongue igniting a fire that crackles and consumes until you feel nothing but heat and want, all fuelled by your erratic lovesick heart. You kiss until the only thing filling your lungs is him, like a heavy smoke that envelopes you, travelling through your body until you pull away, warm chest flushed against his. There’s a stupid twinkle in his eyes and it makes you feel sick, swaying dangerously when he shifts away. You don’t want him to go, but you don’t move when he gives you that look. The devastating ache dissipates when his pants drop from his hips, hard cock meeting the cool air. The twitch that travels down his length echoes between your walls, eagerly clenching around nothing. Jeongguk just smiles, stripping bare leaving himself vulnerable to your eager eyes. You wait, behaving good because you want to for him and Jeongguk notes this, delivering a pleased slap to your cunt when he pulls you close, one hard enough to jolt through your spine when his palm hits your clit.
“I’m kind of sensitive,” you whisper, shy again. Which is funny because weren’t you begging for his cock down your throat a second ago?
“I know,” Jeongguk returns, uncaring. The vibrator comes to life a moment later, buzzing low through the room. He knocks it up to the second-highest level.
“Jeongguk! Start low then work it up. I can’t take it like that directly, it'll chafe me.” Which is right, your clit is already feeling dry, slick staying solely between your walls. Jeongguk notes that, pausing before sinking two of his fingers deep. You squeak, hips lifting when they brush against that spot in your walls. He works you open deftly, pleased when you grind your hips into his hands, spurred on by the feeling of something finally inside of you. But it’s fleeting, Jeongguk dragging his fingers out and over your clit before raising his fingers to his lips and licking them clean.
“Now it won’t,” he states, and before you can open your mouth and deliver a retort the vibrator is pressing against that bundle of nerves, tremors echoing in your bones as your legs squeeze shut in an attempt to get away. Jeongguk pins them open, cock leaking against your thigh and he rolls the edge of the toy over your clit, before you jolt so hard the sheets shift and he knows exactly where to place it. He works it out of you, praise naturally falling from his petal lips when you give in, eyes shut tight and your heart stuck in your throat. The vibration feeds the heat in your gut, drawing it to the surface of your skin, sweat beading along your forehead and a dampness forming down your spine. It feels both quick and slow, coaxed out of you with steadfastness. Jeongguk’s gaze never strays from your pussy, locked there as he etches this moment into his memory. You look gorgeous, whining and twisting underneath him. He can tell that this is a lot for you, judging from how you bury your face away from him. He would have forced your eyes on him, if he wasn’t already so enthralled by how perfect you look like this, moans low colouring the air bright with their sound. His own want multiples when your body freezes, strung tight, the edge beckoning you over.
He pulls the vibrator off then, depriving you of your release because his brain demands that he feels this one around his length.
“Jeongguk!” You’re on your elbows, eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. “Why-w-why would you do that?” There’s a waver in your tone, a lilt so pretty he can’t help but smile.
“When you squirt you’re doing it on my cock.” He states it like it's final. And it is from how he draws you close, vibrator momentarily lost in the sheets, the head of his length brushing against your wetness.
But what catches your attention is when. A loaded promise. A determined one.
You spread your legs open, shifting until he slips past walls stretching to accommodate his welcoming presence. “Okay then, make me.” You say it with your gaze on his, watching as his eyes glaze over hips already bucking deeper, before your words register in his brain and Jeongguk’s gaze shifts into a dangerous glint.
He tugs you hard, pulling close enough so that he sinks in deep, cunt already moulding to the curves of his cock. “With pleasure.” Those words are warning, painted right into the heat of your skin as he sheathes himself inside of you. The groans in the air belong to both of you melting into one distinctive sound. It’s cut by the lewd squelch of your wetness coating his length, one that settles in Jeongguk’s gut, release already creeping into the corner of his vision. But he holds it back by knocking your legs further apart, mouth returning to the bruise he left earlier, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin. You arch into him, shifting as pain bleeds through your nerves. The motion allows the last inch of him to slip past your walls, spearing you open, before Jeongguk draws himself out and returns with a hard slow thrust. He fucks you deep, right into the bed, the frame creaking with each loud meeting between the two of you. You can’t do anything but cling onto him, eyes fluttering as his cock drives into you, determined with every piston of his hips to see you unravel. And you do, with a sickening quickness, already weak with the remembrance of your past edge. You feel soft underneath him, pressed against his skin like you hope you find a home for yourself there. And Jeongguk provides — lips mapping your skin gently and a pride in his tone that makes you want to do anything for him.
“That’s it, good girl.” You can’t say anything but his name, whining with every drag of his length along your walls. “So good to me,” he whispers, sweet, unlike his unforgiving hips. “Pretty girl and she’s all mine.”
“Yes,” you gasp, wanting this more than ever. “All yours—a-all—hnghhhh—y-yours! Jeongguk, please! P-please, please, please.”
He slows, smiling into your neck. “What bunny? What do you want?”
“Wanna cum, Jeongguk p-please let me cum.” When he moves away you feel your gut drop. The vibrator is flicked back one, humming dangerously. “Guk—” you start; he shushes you with a purposeful thrust.
“You said you wanted to cum. Remember what you promised me, bunny?” You nod, slow, nervous but your need overriding your fear. Jeongguk just smiles, shifts himself a little deeper, and then places the vibrator where you need it most. It’s not instant, but it’s quick and violent, travelling through your bones and Jeongguk rocks himself deep, curls damp on his forehead and his shoulders tense but his body still giving. You match his movements with your own, shuddering the closer you feel it creep, ripping itself right out of your limbs, drawn to the surface with no remorse, your eyes falling shut and hips seizing. The vibration paired with the feeling of Jeongguk fucking you full is intoxicating, and unlike you he doesn’t hesitate, playing with your clit unforgivingly.
You don’t even hear yourself, mouth agape and your back high from the sheets, all you know is heat, burning from the inside out. No air in your lungs as it spills from you, right onto his length, walls drawn tight. It hits his abdomen, leaving his muscles wet and glimmering as the moonlight greets his skin. Jeongguk shuts down, hips moving automatically, the vibrator thrown aside, still buzzing forlornly. He couldn’t give a damn about it, bending your legs back and fucking into you hard as you coat his cock in your wetness. If it was loud before, it’s obscene now. The nails in his back spur him further, a need he’s never felt before consuming him whole. It’s already there, the white of his desire clouding his vision, but his brain suddenly stills.
Jeongguk’s hand on your chin draws you back to Earth, mind nothing but mush as he continues to fuck you open. They’re erratic thrusts, and with them, you slowly release that your cheeks are wet. Jeongguk realises it the same time you do, thumb gingerly brushing the tears falling from your eyes away. There’s a strange new awareness buzzing through your body, like your bones feel new, limbs reformed. But nothing could prepare you for that thumb on your cheek travelling down, grazing your lips until they fall open. He slips it past, lets you flick your tongue against it, before demanding. “Open.”
And you do, because what wouldn’t you do for him.
“Can I?” He questions, and somehow you know what he is asking. Another claim. Something else you’ve given nobody but him.
“Yes.”
There’s a fall in his shoulders as if he was afraid you would deny him. But how could you ever? His thumb leaves your lips, hand drifting until it settles on your neck, pressing firmly but not tight. And then his own lips part, hips unwavering, for what he sends down your throat. You swallow, oddly thrilled by it while Jeongguk watches silently, almost in marvel. It does something to you, the way he stares, like he cannot believe you’re his. And you feel that sentiment in how he kisses you next, desperate, pleading, thankful. You return it, tongue soft against his as you feel his back draw taut, a low groan spilling down your throat when Jeongguk finally snaps, euphoria bleeding through his brain. You feel it hit your walls, warm and wet, painting you white, a strange satisfaction settling through your body.
When he eventually rolls over, quiet like he’s still recovering, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, an attempt to keep his love locked in. His hand cups your own, guiding you back into reality with a gentle squeeze.
The still buzzing vibrator is what you hear first, followed by the joint panting of your lungs. You move to grab it, hoping to hide the revelation in your eyes by glaring at him. Jeongguk is still too lost to care, face flushed a vibrant rouge.
“Turn this stupid thing off,” you mutter, legs still stuck, fused to the bed from the shock of your orgasm. Jeongguk snatches it up, waving it through the air as he turns it off, before giving it a fond kiss.
“Gross,” you comment, smacking his hard chest.
“No,” Jeongguk returns, dropping it. He plants a ginger kiss on your forehead. “I quite like it actually, we should order another one. Do you think they do vibrating panties?”
You hit him again, rolling over until your leg swings over his. He keeps looking at you like that, and it keeps clawing right through your heart. “You’re so sick and evil,” you say instead of the annoying comments that flutter in your delirious brain. You want to call him pretty, beautiful, perfect, maybe the best thing you’ve ever had. But you can’t let Jeongguk know he has all that power over you — not when already made you squirt and spat down your throat in one sitting. “Can you clean me up? I’m getting sticky.”
Jeongguk stills like he’s suddenly remembering what he just did, where he just came. And then you feel the rise of his chest, gaze flicking up to meet his. Bright and full of something akin to adoration, before he blinks it away.
“Give me a moment, I think I just saw God.”
#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#bts x reader#bts smut#btswriterscollective#btswritingcafe#jungkook fanfic#jungkook drabble#jungkook scenario#bts fanfic#bts scenario#au: jock!jaykay
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touchdown in atlanta pt. 4 (a tom x zendaya mini!fic)
Optional - smut chapter. 18+ only.
[redacted] Takes place where pt. 3 left off.
link to pt. 3
link to pt. 2
link to pt. 1
3:15 pm
“Fuck.” Tom groaned as he bucked his hips up and leaned back. He really needed her to stay still or he was about to be the most embarrassed man on earth. “Can you hang on, Zendaya?”
Zendaya stopped kissing his neck long enough to ask, “What’s wrong?” in a breathy voice. When he didn’t respond, she went back down and kissed his adam’s apple.
“Nothing’s wrong, this is incredible, it's just too incredible right now,” Tom said.
“I see,” she whispered—a spark in her eye. He groaned again when Zendaya softly took his earlobe between her teeth.
“Can we go to your room, love? Mmm. Let’s go now, shall we?” Tom stole a kiss from her as he pleaded.
“Okay,” she finally melted. “Shoes off please.” Tom quickly obeyed. They stood up and Zendaya grabbed hold of his hand, both sprinting up the staircase.
Tom and Zendaya reached the second floor landing—disheveled and frantic—as Darnell came out of his bedroom.
“Aye, I’m leaving to get groceries—Oh!” Darnell wasn’t surprised, more just taken aback by the timing. It really only took them 20 minutes to—you know what? He needed to start minding his own business. “Okay, be saaaafe!” He sang as he sped down the stairs.
“Hey, yeah you too,” Tom called down distractedly.
Zendaya opened her bedroom door and closed it behind them.
She spotted her damp towel from earlier and kicked it towards the en-suite bathroom.
Tom began unbuttoning his shirt, but stopped to admire Zendaya slipping out of her sundress next to him. He ran his hands up and down her sides as he looked directly into her beautiful brown eyes.
They both felt the electricity between them. He picked her up and she automatically hugged her long legs around his waist. Tom walked a few steps and tossed Zendaya on her king bed. She propped herself up on one elbow and reached out with her other arm to pull his chain, bringing his mouth down to her parted lips.
Tom continued kissing her and gradually moved on to suck on her perfect, perky tits. He wanted to touch every part of her that he’d missed for the last year and a half. He wanted to taste her pussy, make her cum for him. Remind her just how much he treasured her.
“Mmm, let me play some music,” Zendaya reached over for her phone and scrolled through her music. “I have condoms in that bag,” she mentioned, as she settled on a playlist titled “pillow talk 💗”.
Tom placed a row of condoms on the nightstand. Hmm… these were flavored, they’d never used those together before. He tried to push away an intrusive thought of her with her ex and just live in the moment. You’re with her right now, who cares about the past. Cmon, don’t ruin this for yourself, you idiot.
“We don’t need one yet,” he said.
“Not up for it right now?” she asked him.
He answered by spreading her legs around his head and using his skilled tongue to softly trace her folds. He moved up to suck her clit as he pushed his index and middle fingers—ring still on—into her wetness. “Mmm yeah, just like that, please baby.” Z begged as Tom curled his fingers inside her. “Do you like tongue fucking me? Oh fuck please keep going. Keep going baby.”
“Fuck, you like dirty talk now?” he asked in a low grumble. He couldn’t imagine a sexier surprise.
“Yes,” she answered in a cute, now timid, voice, prompting him to moan into her inner thigh. Zendaya was able to somehow balance a thin line between fierce seductress and damsel at his mercy; he could eat her cunt for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day of the week if she talked to him like this. He took his fingers out and replaced the motion with his tongue. She moaned his name over and over… he was so fucking good at this….
Tom put on a condom, and then pulled Zendaya on top of him so she could lower herself onto his hardened cock.
Tom’s eyelids fluttered closed, but he held Zen down when she tried to adjust her position.
“I want to bounce on your cock so bad,” she pleaded.
“Oh god. I’m close, I think I need to slow down,” Tom said.
“No, please don’t slow down. I’m close too–so close, please fuck me.”
Tom flipped their positions without leaving her warmth and moved her legs so she could grab onto her feet. He placed his hand on her left thigh and supported his weight with his other hand. Zendaya whimpered as he pulled out of her almost completely and then pushed back into her in rapid repetition.
He took his cock out to rub it on her the way he knew she loved, and then plunged back into her wetness. “Fuck… you’re so good… at pleasing me,” Zendaya said, in between moans. Tom circled his thumb on her clit as he sped up his thrusts.
She let go of her feet and pulled Tom closer to her; cumming as he captured her lips with his own.
#tomdaya fanfic#tomdaya fanfiction#tomdaya ff#tom x zendaya ff#tom x zendaya fanfiction#tom x zendaya smut#rpf smut#tom x zendaya fanfic#written by me#tomdaya crack#tomdaya fic#tomdaya#rpf fanfic#cw rpf
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Give and Take
Summary: You and the Sheriff have an agreement.
Pairing: Lee Bodecker x f!Reader
Warnings: Smut (oral m/f receiving, vaginal penetration). Swearing. Mentions of drinking and smoking. Slight dom and prostitute-like behavior. (18+ only please).
Word count: 2,956
A/N: Well this happened. I’m a bit nervous about this since it’s my first time writing for this character, so please bear with me while I learn and explore! I don’t think this is too dark or triggering, but if there’s something described that you feel should be included in the warnings, please let me know! Anyways, hope people enjoy! 😊💜 gif not mine.
Evening often finds you freshly showered, a quick meal cooking in the oven, and finishing any chores you put off from the day before. Tonight, you’ve chosen a light cotton nightgown to lounge around in. It’s a shorter one, coming to just above your knees. The navy silk robe you wear covers a bit more, loosely tied around your waist to keep the cool early summer air off your skin.
There’s a soft knock to the front door, your attention shifting from the small pile of mail you hold to the mass of dark wood. A small smirk begins to tug at your lips as you walk over to it, knowing who would be on the other side.
Opening the door, Sheriff Lee Bodecker stands before you, shoulder leaning on the frame and a somewhat unimpressed look on his face.
“Sheriff,” you greet with an impish smirk.
A small flick of the Sheriff’s tongue darts out of his mouth when he moves the toothpick it holds to the other side, jaw clenching for the briefest of moments before he responds.
“When are you gonna learn to drive the speed limit, hm?” He questions, a hint of annoyance curling around the syllables. He pushes off from the doorframe, harshly removing a folded up white piece of paper from his back pocket before handing it to you.
Already aware of the reason behind the Sheriff’s visit, you’re not surprised when you unfold the paper to find a copy of the speeding ticket you received a few days ago. Across the middle of the form is a stamp with the word ‘REDACTED’ in big red lettering, and satisfaction settles in as you fold it back up.
“Maybe one day.” You shrug with pursed lips.
Stepping away, you leave the door open as an invitation for him to enter. And he does. He always does.
The door closes with a faint click of the lock, and your nerves already begin to tingle with anticipation of what’s to come.
“Beer?” You offer over your shoulder, sauntering to the kitchen.
A pause while the Sheriff quietly grumbles to himself. He doesn’t like when you tease him—not like this anyways.
“You know I’m trying to quit,” he huffs. There’s a soft thud when he plops himself down on your couch. “Just get me a water.” He ponders before adding, “and any candy you got.”
Rolling your eyes, a quiet chuckle passes through your lips as you get him his glass of water. Before you exit the kitchen, you grab the small bag of sweets you keep around just for him.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says, taking the drink and placing it on the table beside him. The sound of a crinkling wrapper fills the otherwise quiet space when he opens a piece of hard fruit candy. Removing the toothpick, he pops the treat into his mouth and gives you a wicked grin.
You raise an eyebrow at him when he reaches for your hand.
“Now, I think we need to talk about your reckless driving,” he drawls, pulling you down onto his lap.
The soft cotton of your nightgown rides up as your legs part to straddle him. Large hands run over your silk covered back, bringing your body closer to his. The Sheriff’s pudgy belly pokes against yours, and you place gentle hands on his shoulders.
“You’ve been causing me extra paperwork down at the station,” he says, hands finding their way to your backside and giving it a light squeeze. “And I don’t like it.”
“Mm,” you hum in affirmation, a sly smirk lingering on the cornering of your lips. Your hands move from his shoulders to the back of his neck before they make to remove the uniform hat he still wears.
The Sheriff brings his hands to your front, fingers slipping under the silk robe to remove the cloth from your shoulders. A low growl rumbles in his chest when he gets a better sight of your cleavage, the deep V of the nightgown low enough to show the dip in your breasts. Soft lips begin assaulting the skin of your chest, head rolling back as the sensations of little nips and sucks tingle your body.
A quiet mewl falls from your mouth when the Sheriff’s calloused thumbs caress your hardening nipples through the thin fabric. Your hands begin moving on their own accord, palming his growing erection over the brown pants of his uniform. Flashbacks of that very first night you had it in your mouth appear in your mind.
Driving twenty over the speed limit, you weren’t surprised, but still miffed, when the bright red and blue lights flashed in your rearview mirror. However, a mischievous smirk curved the corner of your lips when you saw who it was that pulled you over. It just so happened Sheriff Lee Bodecker was working highway patrol that fateful night, and you used your knowledge of the Sheriff’s crooked ways to your advantage.
He asked you to step out of the vehicle, citing suspected driving under the influence as his reason, but you knew he just wanted a better look. Several moments passed with trivial exchanges, then he threatened a ticket until you offered a compromise.
You were on your knees and the Sheriff’s cock was in your mouth, hard and aching, behind his patrol car. He didn’t last long, and when you got back in your car, he said he’d let you off with a warning.
The Sheriff’s hands wander down to your thighs, pushing the clothing farther up your legs, and you’re pulled out of your dizzying state.
“Ah, ah, Sheriff,” you say teasingly, “not until I’ve had my wine and cigarette.”
The Sheriff feigns annoyance, groaning in frustration when you leave the spot on his lap. But you know it’s just for show. He enjoys the anticipation just as much as you do. It seems the unspoken deal the two of you have is the most exciting part of both your lives at the moment. A quid pro quo type situation.
You break the law, and the Sheriff gets you out of any trouble.
It’s not that you’re going around robbing banks or anything, but sometimes you drive with a lead foot and think speeding limits are more of a suggestion rather than a rule. Not to mention the countless parking tickets you seem to rack up. Anyways, it’s not your fault the town lacks feasible parking near the places you need to go.
So more often than not, the Sheriff is showing up at your house with an adjusted ticket and you let him fuck your brains out in return.
Luckily, the place you call home is located a little ways outside of town; therefore, neither of you have to worry about prying neighbors. The towns folk are always looking for the next bit of juicy gossip to spread like wildfire and you’re keen to not given them any.
The gossiping is something you’re used to, though. The older people seemed to take an interest in the fact you’ve made it to the second half of your twenties still unmarried and childless. An outrageous concept to the traditional beliefs of this podunk place. Unofficially deemed an outcast, you tend to keep to yourself for the most part. Besides your co-workers at the diner and the Sheriff, there aren’t many other people in your everyday life.
Settling into the lounge chair beside the couch, wine in hand, you feel the intense stare of the Sheriff prickle your skin. Crimson red, pungent and bitter, burns down your throat when you take a sip before gently placing the glass on the coffee table. A bright glow of orange illuminates your features, flames dancing from the end of the lighter as you ignite your cigarette. Taking a long drag and exhaling slowly, your eyes catch the glint of gold wrapped around the Sheriff’s ring finger as he plays with a candy wrapper.
“Where does your wife think you are when it gets this late?” You ask, blowing out another puff of smoke. It lingers a few seconds before dissipating into nothing.
“Working a double,” the Sheriff replies matter-of-factly.
“Mhm,” you hum around the tip of rolled white paper, eyes narrowing just a moment as you consider his response.
Six months has passed since your arrangement with the Sheriff unofficially began. The first exchange came and went, then not even a week later you received another ticket after you parked in the handicap spot by the post office. You were only going to be a minute; it wasn’t your fault you had to wait for the teenager to run to the back to get more stamps.
The parking ticket was set and ready to be paid, but the next day the Sheriff arrived at your house unexpectedly. White paper in hand, signatures and redacted claims on the document, you got off scot-free…again.
And the Sheriff got sucked off…again.
But then a few weeks went by without anything, and you would be lying if you had said you weren’t hoping for something to happen to bring the Sheriff back to your doorstep. So maybe there were a few times you broke the law on purpose, knowing you would get caught and the Sheriff would pay you a visit.
However, as weeks turned into months, there were a few times the Sheriff visited you on his own accord. Touch starved and with the taste of you still on his tongue, he wanted more. The first was to inform you there was a broken taillight on your car. The second time he brought your jacket you left at the diner by mistake. And the third time he came with the hopes you just wouldn’t turn him away.
And when you didn’t, the lines of your arrangement began to blur. Not that you complained. The Sheriff’s company was something you started to learn you liked, for some reason or another.
Hot ash is crushed into olive glass as you press the butt of your cigarette into the ashtray, the end smoldering as it cools. The rest of the wine is finished in one large gulp.
“Be right back,” you say to the Sheriff as you stand.
Entering the kitchen, your wine glass is placed on the counter with a soft clink. The remaining food from your dinner still sits on the stove and you grab a container to put it away. Engrossed with what you’re doing, you don’t hear the Sheriff step into the kitchen. It’s not until you feel his doughy belly pressing into your back, hands wrapping around your front to cup your breasts, that he makes himself known.
“C’mon, darlin’,” he says, nose running along the column of your neck, voice low in your ear. “That can wait.”
“I need to get this in the fridge or it’ll go bad,” you reply, taking any opportunity to rile him up.
“I think it can wait,” the Sheriff firmly states, hands squeezing just a bit harder to warn you he’s not in a patient mood.
Eyes closing and bottom lip catching between your teeth, your hands grasp the edge of the stove when he pushes you into it. The stiffness of his length is felt against your backside, and the throbbing between your legs intensifies.
“Someone’s excited,” you giggle, moving your backside from side to side and you feel him twitch just the slightest.
“Darlin’, if you don’t stop teasin’, I’m going to bend you over this stove and take you right here.” The words are playful, but they’re covered in a darkness.
What the Sheriff wants, the Sheriff gets.
And right now, you know he wants his cock in your mouth, and he’s not opposed to doing whatever it’ll take to make it happen.
Leaning against his larger frame, you wordlessly guide him towards your bedroom—one of many places the Sheriff has taken you. There’s been the backseat of his patrol car, the hood of his patrol car, the kitchen at the diner when you were left to close up, just to name a few.
“On your knees,” the Sheriff says, gruff and demanding.
The mattress dips under his weight, springs squeaking from the extra strain. He sits expectantly, eyes dark with desire as he watches you sink to your knees between his opened legs.
Running your hands along his clothed thighs, you make a point to gently brush his hardened length before getting to work on undoing the constricting belt of his uniform. The noise of the clanking buckle encourages you to hasten your movements—you’re just as needy and desperate to have him in your mouth as he is.
Zipper humming as its lowered, peeling back the bothersome clothing, the Sheriff’s member springs free. Thick and meaty like the man it belongs to. Gentle fingers wrap around it, your thumb lightly sweeping along the glistening tip, and there’s a pained hiss from above you.
“Go on then.”
Eyes locking with the Sheriff’s, your tongue licks at his underside, a small taste before you devour him. Wide and wanting, his cock disappears inside your mouth and you let out a delighted moan of satisfaction. Sweet and salty, just like him.
A juxtaposition of the tough Sheriff persona and the gentle, affectionate companion you’ve come to learn he can be.
He hits the back of your throat, and your eagerness to consume him has you gagging slightly before regaining your composure. A dominating hand comes to rest on the back of your head, gripping just enough to communicate how he wants you to take him.
Cheeks hollowing out, your tongue runs along every veiny ridge, relishing the feel of his shaft filling your mouth.
The Sheriff moves his free hand to push your robe down, removing the strap of your nightgown to fondle a breast. The sensation of his hand on your bare skin excites you, prompting you to suck harder and bring your other hand to massage his balls.
You can hear the Sheriff attempting to stifle a moan as his legs tremble under your touch. Heat rises in your body, pussy aching for him.
“Enough,” he says, pulling you off by the hair.
His hold on you remains, bringing you to his lips. Teeth clanking and tongues swirling, strawberry flavor mixing with the taste of red wine. He slips a hand under your nightgown and you find it difficult to restrain your desperation to have him inside you.
A feral groan erupts in his chest when he finds you aren’t wearing any underwear, and thick fingers run along your damp folds. The light from your nightstand catches the glistening of your arousal on his fingers after he removes his hand.
“I do that to you, sweetheart? Me and my cock?” He asks teasingly, almost to taunt that he’s able to get you so riled up with little effort on his part, but you have a feeling he also enjoys the idea of being wanted, desired.
You watch as his tongue darts out from his mouth to taste the wetness on his fingers, and his eyes momentarily flutter shut as he savors it. Then in an instant, his eyes snap open and a carnal need takes over.
Ripping your robe off, he pushes you down onto the bed. He hastily works to remove his uniform. The buttons of his shirt easily pop open from the strain over his protruding midsection and he tosses it somewhere on the floor.
He drags you to the edge of the bed, kneeling with his arms wrapped tightly around your legs. His tongue eagerly licks a single strip along your folds before his mouth encases your clit. Slurping and sucking, the Sheriff devours you with no mercy. One finger, then another, push inside you, body beginning to tingle from your impending orgasm.
“Sheriff,” you whimper as your climax rips through you.
In one swift motion, the Sheriff removes his pants and slams into you. Any remaining breath is stolen from your lungs at the sudden fullness, your velvet hole swallowing him to the hilt.
Unrelenting, the sound of skin slapping against skin echos off the walls as the Sheriff pounds into your throbbing heat. His growls mix with your cries as he secures his arms under your knees. The leverage he gets from standing repeatedly hits the sweet spot inside you, the bulging of his stomach rubbing against your clit with each thrust.
“That’s it, give it to me,” the Sheriff pants, not once letting up on his harsh movements, a sheen of sweat building on his forehead. His eyes take in your figure—legs wide and breasts bouncing, flustered and whining below him.
When he catches sight of his cock disappearing in and out of you, he has to control the urge to come right then. The clenching of your walls around him tells him you’re close, and he finds enough energy to pound into you a few more times.
Clawing at the sheets, you’re desperate for something to hold onto as another orgasm hits, legs reflexively wanting to close, but the Sheriff holds them in their place.
His hips stutter as he nears his peak, and he quickly pulls himself out of your weeping cunt. One hand squeezes your leg as the other vigorously pumps his shaft, and with a loud groan, he finishes. White ribbons cover your abdomen, and it’s a vision you think you’ll never grow tired of seeing.
“Fuck, darlin’,” the Sheriff chuckles breathlessly, knees buckling the slightest, and he leans against the edge of the bed for support.
“Sorry, Sheriff,” you say with a coy smirk. “Now can I go put my dinner away?”
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hi!!! could i ask for [REDACTED] and carrying the world in her heart please? <3
Of course!
[REDACTED] has an actual title, and it's the project that I'm actively working on 5 days a week at the moment. But it's my piece for the Zutara Big Bang, so there's not much more that I'm allowed to say about it beyond the fact that 1) it's Zutara, 2) I'm enjoying the project SO much, and 3) I think it's fairly on-brand with the rest of my writing 😂. The rest will be revealed when posting starts in early September.
Carrying the World in her Heart is the start of an anti-Kataang fic that I was working on for a while before I realized that if I was ever going to do the idea justice, it'd have to be a LONG multichapter fic, and I just don't have time for that right now. Maybe someday. And by anti-Kataang, I mean that Kataang happened, the relationship has weakened significantly over the years, and... y'know. Meeting a certain old friend for the first time in years leads to some major realizations.
I'll put an excerpt of Carrying the World below a cut because it's sort of long:
"Daddy?" Kya's little voice came before Katara had a chance to speak.
"Ky!" Aang brightened and swooped back to the door to pick her up. "How's my little fishy this morning?" He kissed her cheek and swung her back to the ground.
Kya blinked up at him, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Daddy?" She yawned tremendously. "Are we having breakfast outside?"
With a laugh, Aang ruffled her hair. "Not today, baby girl."
"Dad's leaving again," Bumi grumbled, raising his eyes just enough to give his sister a pointed look.
Kya stared disbelievingly at her brother before turning to Katara for confirmation.
Katara's tongue turned to lead in her mouth. She managed a nod. "Daddy has a lot of work to do all over the world." The words were forced, but somehow her voice remained steady.
The flood of tears was immediate, and Katara watched, almost numb, as Aang tried to pry himself out of Kya's grasp, and Bumi stood off to the side, arms folded as he glowered at the ground. She couldn't bring herself to smile when Aang finally passed a screaming, squirming Kya off into her arms and tried to ruffle Bumi's hair. She wasn't angry with him. She couldn't be. Katara knew how important this was to Aang--to the world--but she was just tired.
Bumi ducked away from his father's hand and came to stand by Katara while Aang loaded his supplies into the saddle. Eventually Kya quieted down too, and the three of them watched in silence as Aang waved his last goodbye before snapping the reins and lifting off into the air.
Years ago, Katara would have stood by and watched until Appa was no more than a pale speck over the horizon. Today, she couldn't stand to watch.
"I think we still have a little of that seal jerky your uncle Sokka sent us," Katara said, swinging Kya around to rest on her hip so she could put her other hand on Bumi's shoulder. "Why don't we have a treat along with breakfast this morning?"
Bumi frowned down at the ground but leaned into her side.
Please, Katara begged silently. Please save the hard questions for another day, sweetheart. I don't have the answers you need right now.
"Where is Dad going?" Bumi's question came in an uncharacteristically small voice, and Katara's heart twisted.
"East of Ba Sing Se," she answered, hating the edge of resentment that crept into the words.
Before she could elaborate further, Bumi pulled away, gray eyes--Aang's eyes--brimming with betrayal. "But Mom, that's more than a thousand miles. He'll be gone for months. And he just got home yesterday."
Something clenched inside her. She should say something in Aang's defense, something about his duty to the world. But this wasn't about the world. This was about the Air Nomads. And the only living descendants of that once-great nation were here. With Katara. Left behind once again.
She took a long, steadying breath before she led Bumi back inside, an arm draped around his small shoulders. Something reassuring came out of her mouth, but she couldn't remember the words. She wasn't sure she wanted to. How many times had those words already come? How many more times could she utter them before they lost what little meaning they still carried?
Katara prepared breakfast in a haze. Kya was oddly quiet, hovering close to her leg as though Katara too might vanish if she strayed too far away, and Bumi thumped sullenly around the kitchen, a scowl to rival the sourest politician fixed on his face.
They're lucky to have you, Aang's voice whispered into her ear. Bumi and Kya have the most amazing mother they could ever hope for. She set the teapot down with a little more force than was necessary. That doesn't matter, she screamed back inside her head. It doesn't matter how good a mother I am when my children have to watch their father choose to leave them behind.
"Momma?" Kya settled at Katara's knee, sliding her bowl closer so she didn't have to leave her mother's side. "Daddy's gonna be back in time for us to go to Ember Island, right?"
Katara's heart sank and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She should have known better than to make promises for Aang. She should have known better than to give them good news before she had reason to believe it herself.
Bumi scoffed. "Dad's not coming back this summer, Ky." Though he scowled mightily, Katara could still hear the disappointment in his tone, could still read it in his eyes. "We're never going to Ember Island. Get used to it. Dad's always gonna be too busy for us."
Kya's little face crumpled, her piercing blue eyes filling with tears.
The tense ball that had been growing in Katara's chest all morning tightened again. Then it snapped. She couldn't watch her daughter cry anymore. She couldn't stand seeing that wave of bitterness building, constantly building in Bumi every time he mentioned Aang. She couldn't listen to Bumi's clumsy attempts at bringing Kya's hopes back under control. And more than anything else, she couldn't defend Aang anymore. Not this time. Not when he hardly deigned to grant them a day of his precious time. His family. His wife, his son, his daughter. Katara had had enough.
She thought of the white sand of the beaches, the black volcanic rock jutting up in every direction, the pleasant chill of the turquoise sea. She remembered the carefree nights around bonfires in the courtyard, then on the beach after the war was over. She remembered the market teeming with street performers and food vendors--all the foods she'd never tried before those last precious weeks before the comet, all the new songs she'd learned, all the flashes of humanity she'd seen in faces she would have once counted as enemies. She wanted to see it all again. She wanted the sensation of a warm, gentle breeze on bare skin, the feeling of sand between her toes, the sharp scent of the ocean pervading everything around. It had been far too long since she'd known the sort of carefree ease that Ember Island brought over her--it had been too long since she'd seen Zuko. They'd become nearly inseparable in their time on the island--how had she forgotten that? Had her life here really robbed her of even the memories of her best friend? Her hands clenched. There was more to it than even that. Her children had a right to see the place that had such a role in shaping their parents' lives. What right did Aang have to deny them that?
"We're going."
Bumi rolled his eyes. For an eight-year-old, he was already developing a powerful sarcastic streak. "Sure, Mom. Dad always comes back when he says he will."
Katara squared her shoulders. "We aren't going to wait for your father. We're going to Ember Island. Just the three of us." She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her chest. She felt herself smile.
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“I’ll say it every second of every day if need be, I love you."
Warnings: N/A
Pairing: James Potter x Reader
Words: 2.8k
Summary: James Potter is desperately in love with you.
Part One “No, please… Don’t say that. You love her, not me.”
Part Two "James, you’re a right knob head sometimes. She loves you.”
(Hi! This is part three of my James Potter series. Feel free to read those before hand!)
It was odd to see you without James. It seemed that after the Gryffindor party, you had disappeared. It was rare to see you during meal times and you were nothing but a passing figure in the corridors, fleeing before the boys could stop you. It wasn’t just Remus you were dodging, Sirius could barely find you in a crowd and Peter had spoken to you all but once these past few weeks. James, it seemed, was taking your absence the hardest. He frequently turned to his side to tell you a witty or inappropriate joke only to find that you weren’t there. Living without you was torture. Living without the person he loved was torture. And, what made it worse, was that it was his doing that brought this fate upon the Marauders. Remus Lupin, to put kindly, was extremely fed up. He missed his friend and found himself quite lonely studying in the library. And if he were to catch you somewhere, reading or doing homework, you were quiet and reserved, almost fragile to an extent. So, Remus made it his mission, after a grueling day of classes, to find you. He stalked the halls, peering left and right, checked the Astronomy Tower and the Owlery and the kitchens. It was only until he found you, tucked away and unseen, in the back of the library that he let out a sigh of relief.
Remus pulled a chair from the table and sat down, staring at you intently. “Right, Y/N. This has got to stop.”
“What are you on about, Remus?” you asked, raising your eyes from your book that you were barely reading.
“Don’t play dumb!” Remus used his hand to refer to you, “This has got to stop. It’s become ridiculous.”
“Rem-”
“No, just listen to me. I don’t want to raise my voice or become angry, but you’ve beyond frustrated me. Y/N, this has got to stop, you cannot go on like this.”
“Go on like what?” you asked sharply.
“Like this!” you knew exactly what Remus was talking about. You had become quite skinny, almost gaunt like. Your body adorned an old knitted sweater that James had given you after his growth spurt. It engulfed your body and swallowed you whole. Your face has lost its colour, and your paleness reached all over your skin. You looked sick. Lovesick, if you will, and suffering from heartbreak and losing the battle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you gazed back at your book, hoping Remus would leave.
“Damn it, Y/N. Stop it.” Remus slammed his hand on the table, making you jump. Remus had never raised his voice at you, but looking in his eyes, you could see how desperate he was. Remus redacted his hand and shook his head, “I’m sorry.” he whispered.
“It’s okay,” you said reassuringly, reaching to place your hand on his.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I know,” you said truthfully, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb, “but I’m alright.”
“No, no you’re not, Y/N. This isn’t you. The person sitting here isn’t you.” Remus trailed off. If this is what love is, Remus thought, then maybe he didn’t want it. He could see how this was tearing you apart, inside and out. “Everyone misses you. James misses you.”
“I miss you too,” your voice quivered a bit, hearing James’ name struck a blade in your throat.
“He’s not the same, y’know? Have you noticed?”
You couldn’t say you had. Every time you had seen him in the corridor or in the common room, you practically ran away. It was utter agony to see the man who you so desperately loved, not love you back. But, if you had lingered, if you stayed for mere seconds, you would have seen how broken James was. He smiled and ran his fingers through his hair as he usually did, but the smile was nearly blank and his hair was pulled nervously.
“Rem-”
“I know,” he sighed, “But at least think about coming back, okay? It’s scaring me to see you like this.”
You nodded, “I love you, Moons.”
Remus squeezed your hand, sending you a worried smile and stood up to leave you alone with your thoughts. As you sat there, you found yourself playing with James’ sweater, fiddling with and pulling out the loose strands. You feared that this was the end of yours and James’ friendship, perhaps even for good. You weren’t sure you could go back to being friends, it simply felt too emotionally difficult to be nothing but mates. You couldn’t do it. A small part of you wanted to be angry with James. In fact, you wanted to be furious at him for toying with your feelings like that. You wanted to scream and send him a jinx that would cause his head to become an octopus. Maybe then he’d see how much he sucked. But, you couldn’t. You couldn’t even be annoyed. The only thing you could feel was the throbbing hurt of your broken heart and helplessly missing a certain James Potter.
Sirius had become just as frustrated if not even more frustrated than Remus. He had become fed up with constantly telling James to grab life by the balls and tell you how he truly feels. It became too much when James was fidgeting during breakfast before his second Quidditch game.
“James Middle-Name-That-I’ve-Forgotten Potter!”
James looked up alarmed, “Padfoot? What’s wrong? You never call me James,”
“You! You’re what’s wrong.”
“Padfoot, don’t do this right now, I’m already nervous enough for the game.”
“This is the absolute last time I’ll say it if you don’t tell Y/N how you feel, I won’t talk to you for a week and we both know that’ll be right awful.”
“I’ll do it! I swear, I’ll do it, it just has to be the right time. And-and now, it’s just not.”
“Then when will be the right time?” Sirius prodded, “In a year? Two? When you’re old and wrinkled?”
James bit his lip, knowing full well that Sirius was right. “I’ll tell her at the party tonight,”
Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Yeah, like that turned out well last time you did that.”
“Well! I-okay? It’ll be fine!” James groaned loudly. Why was he such a coward?
“I mean it, James. Do it, or you’ll regret it.” Sirius pointed. “I didn’t pretend to be Y/N and fake kiss you for nothing.”
“You were the one who pretended to kiss me!” James accused,
“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” Sirius clicked his tongue.
“I didn’t,” James said.
Although James felt joyous over his quidditch game win, he could feel the nerves bundled in his stomach. As he reached the common room James swallowed harshly and plainly greeted the partying Gryffindors who congratulated him.
“Drink of firewhiskey?” Someone offered him, James shook his head.
“No thanks, mate. All yours.”
James searched the common room, his eyes scanning the heads of the bouncing and swaying students. His brown eyes locked with Sirius who sent him back a pointed look with eyebrows raised. He had to do it. He had to do it now. James Potter blinked, hoping to find you somewhere in the crowd with a smile on your face that he so loved. James pushed against the throng of students before reaching Remus who was leaned against the wall.
“Moony,” James said with relief.
“There you are! Hold on,” Remus fixed James’ glasses that seemed to have come askew and crooked on his nose. “Two wins in a row, how bloody lucky are you?”
“Yeah yeah,” James waved it off before asking frantically, “Where’s Y/N?”
Remus’ face dropped and his eyes showed nothing but wariness, “Why?”
“I need to tell her something.”
“Have you been drinking again?”
James shook his head rapidly, “No. Where is she?”
“Prongs, I think-”
“Moons, I’m sorry, I don’t have time for this. I need to see her, I need to see her and tell her I love her. I need to do it and I need to do it now,”
Remus’ eyes lifted in surprise, “Oh.”
“I know, I know. But, where is she? I need to find her.”
Remus’ thoughts were racing horses and he seemed to piece together what was happening, “James.”
“Please, Remus. Please tell me where she is.”
Remus bit his bottom lip, “I think I saw her in the courtyard, sitting in one of the window sills, but-” Before he could continue, James spun around and hurried out of the common room.
Sirius strutted over and slung an arm around Remus’ shoulders.
“Is he going-”
“Yup.”
“And does Y/N feel-”
“Yup.”
Sirius turned his head with a wide grin, “Thank god. I was nearly ripping out my hair waiting for him to tell her.” Remus hummed in response. As Sirius seemed to quiet, Remus turned to him with questioning eyes.
“I need to tell you something-”
Remus interrupted him, “You pretended to be Y/N for James, didn’t you? That’s why you pretended to wear a dress.”
Sirius sighed pathetically, “Yeah. And I kind of liked it.”
James could feel the sweat begin to bead on his forehead, and the adrenaline run through his veins as he looked the corridors for you. This was it. James could feel it. He was ready, he was in love with you and nothing else seemed to matter but the idea of you. You. He loved you. He would rip the skin off his back to keep you warm or swing upside down on a tree with his trousers off just to make you smile.
It was cold. Cold enough to feel a brisk breeze on your shoulders and cold enough for you to wrap yourself in your arms. You enjoyed the quiet, at least you learned to enjoy it. You debated on returning to the common room to attend the party like Remus and Sirius had begged you to, but you quickly decided against it. You stared up at the stars that blinked back at you. Though you were absolute bollocks at astronomy, you found yourself counting the stars, seeking a constellation, or maybe even guidance. A cloud brushed over the dark skies, the twinking stars disappearing into the darkness. You sighed and stared at your feet until you heard something. What was that? It sounded almost like thunder, pounding against the corridor floors. As you curiously faced the source of the noise, you could barely make out a tall figure bounding towards you. You could make out their messy hair that seemed to stick out everywhere. Messy hair. James. It was James. He ran towards the courtyard, pausing to look madly all-around before spotting you. James Potter froze, his mouth coming agape. The adrenaline and rush that he had previously felt faded every slow step he took towards you. Your hands instantly became sweaty and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from his. Should you run? Maybe, if you hurried now, you could make it back to your dorm in minutes. But you stayed. You stayed, watching his every move until he finally reached where you were sitting.
“Hi,” he whispered, barely trusting his voice right now.
“Hi,” you said back, your voice shaky and low. His eyes looked towards the free space next to you on the bench, a silent question if he could sit. Your eyes widened as you scooted over allowing James to sit. It was silent, something neither of you were used to. Before, it was rare that you two had a minute of quietness between you as the conversation seemed to bounce naturally. But now, it was hushed. James clenched his hands nervously.
“Congratulations on your win, James,” you said sincerely, surprised that you had even said something. James inhaled. He didn’t want to talk about quidditch. He didn’t want to talk about anything, he wanted to lean in and kiss you and tell you how much he truly adored you.
“I need to tell you something.” James let out.
“James-”
“No, please? Let me talk.” You stayed silent,
“I made a mistake at the last party.”
“Really, we don’t have to talk about it. We can just forget about it.”
“No, I don’t want to forget about it. It was a mistake. But not in the way you’re thinking. It was a mistake because I shouldn’t have told you how I felt like that. I feel like a right prat and, and.” James lost his words for a moment before clearing his throat, “I should’ve never told you I loved you when I was drunk. And, I should’ve never pretended I had forgotten about it either.”
This was painful. He did remember, he just ignored it. You managed to pull your lips into a small smile, “James. It’s okay. It didn’t mean anything, we can just-”
“No, that’s the thing. It did mean something. It meant something to me. I have been trying, constantly trying, to find a way to tell you, but I’m terrified of losing you.”
“You’d never lose me-”
“Y/N, you little shit,” he let out a small joke making you laugh, “Will you please be quiet because I swear I’ll go mad if you don’t.”
“I... I adore you.” James said finally. Your hands went cold and you struggled to breathe. It was a trick, wasn’t it? Or a nightmare? Or were you daydreaming in the library again and you’ll soon be woken up by the sound of a book dropping?
“What?”
“It’s true. I adore you. I think you are frustratingly annoying sometimes when you lose at exploding snap, when you argue with me I go a little insane and sometimes you snort when you laugh. I had this whole speech planned out and I was supposed to have flowers, but whenever I see you I just. I lose myself a bit. But, I think you’re amazing.” James shifted in his seat, getting a good look at you. You were thin and had bags under your eyes, but you were still just as beautiful as you were when you were children. “And I. I love you.”
“Have you been-”
“No. I haven’t been drinking. I’m as sober as a nun and I can say now, finally, that I, James Potter, am terribly and irretrievably in love with you. I have been and always will be.”
You sat there stunned. James bit his bottom lip nervously, looking up at you, eyelashes on his cheeks as he wondered what you were thinking. He had an anxious smile on his lips.
“Say it again,” you said softly.
“I love you.” James reached and interlocked his fingers with yours.
“Again,”
“I love you.” You let out a breath of shaky air, your lungs could implode. You couldn’t help it. Tears welled in your eyes, you couldn’t even blink them back in time. You could taste the salty tears slip down onto your lips as you began to cry. James looked alarmed and raised his hand to cup your cheek softly wipe the tears with his thumb.
“Please don’t cry Y/N. I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“No,” you sobbed, “Please. Don’t say anything. This? This is... perfect.”
“But, you’re crying,” James said worriedly, brushing more tears off your face. You felt yourself do something you hadn’t done in a while. You smiled. You beamed through your tears and sent James a dazzling smile that nearly knocked him off his seat.
“I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m... I’m perfectly happy right now.”
James could feel his own eyes begin to tear up as he sniffled and laughed, “Well you’ve gone and made me all soft now.”
“Oh, James. I missed you.” You leaned comfortingly into his hand.
“I missed you too, Love.” James whispered, “And I’ll never leave you again.”
“Will you say it again, for me?”
“I’ll say it every second of every day if need be, I love you. I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”
You laughed out in relief, wishing to hear him say those sincere words again.
“I love you too. I love you, James Potter. I’ll love you until I stop breathing, until the day I die and even more.”
“Will you say it again for me?”
You closed your eyes, “I love you.”
Under the stars, the stars you had earlier compared your love to James Potter to, he kissed you. The salty tears of both yours and his mixed as you smiled, beyond joyful, effortlessly happy. A weight slipped off your shoulders and landed on the ground as James held your face in his hand and pushed all his love, his endearments, his affections into this kiss. You pulled away, foreheads pressed together as you felt nothing but content. From the beginning of your life together, James Potter knew you were destined to be together, tied with heartstrings. And slowly, but surely, the love you both shared combined, and not even the stars could outshine it.
#james potter#james potter imagines#james potter imagine#marauders imagine#marauders#remus lupin imagine#sirius black imagine#harry potter imagines#harry potter#harry potter imagine
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Hi! Saw your post about Sap and Tubbo and I’ve missed their dynamic sm so I wanted to send in a request! How about lee Tubbo and ler Sapnap? Maybe Sapnap wanted to see if Tubbo was just as ticklish as he was back then and uses one of his favorite tactics a bunch, raspberries?
Still the Same
summary: sapnap wants to know if tubbo is still as ticklish as before, in his own sapnap way.
a/n: sorry for the wait :( low motivation bc of personal stuff happening, but im doing a bit better so i wanted to get this out asap! hope u enjoy :D
warnings: swearing, sapnap is Evil (/lh)
w/c: 1.6k
DSMP, Platonic
~
Everyone always says it’s easier to clear your thoughts from a high altitude. Why is that? No one knows, though no one is going to question it either. It’s always nice to enjoy the breeze from up above.
The only problem is, finding that high altitude and then having to climb up to it.
Tubbo closed his home door behind him, glancing around to find some sort of easy-access place he can sit for a while. As the boy walked around, he was quick to notice the gentle breeze that brushed against his cheeks and over his nose.
He sighed, enjoying the perfect weather present on this day, deciding to start walking down the path to town. As he walked, he chuckled as he recognized the spot he was standing at.
The day he and Sapnap had a playful bicker. It involved Tubbo making fun of the demon for miswording something, and a playful fight lasting afterward. The boy chuckled to himself, then his eyes widening.
Thinking about his old friend reminded him of the hill they used to hang out on. The perfect altitude to sit at, might he add. Now walking with intention, Tubbo smiled at the old memories that were unfolding in his brain.
“Here it is, it feels like it’s been years,” Tubbo spoke softly, arriving at the same hill he and Sapnap used to goof off on ages ago. He smiled contently, plopping down on the grass, and leaned against an oak tree that sat on the hill.
He let his head relax back, enjoying the nice breeze brush through his hair and the convenient shade the oak tree provided for him. The people were right, this is a good place to clear some thoughts up.
Meanwhile, a certain demon was also heading somewhere to relax for the day, wanting a break from all the serious ‘bullshit,’ as he would call it. Sapnap looked up at the tree that rested on his favorite hill and saw a figure under it.
He smiled to himself, recognizing a certain ram hybrid settled underneath the shade of the luscious tree. With a mischievous smirk, Sapnap tip-toed up the hill, avoiding any crinkly leaves or twigs along the way, motivated to startle his old friend.
Oh, how much Sapnap missed being so goofy and carefree. It was honestly a natural instinct to playfully mess with Tubbo, almost like how siblings always try to push each other's buttons. It’s safe to say he saw the boy as a little brother.
“Tubbo!” Sapnap squealed, whipping his head around the tree with a giddy smile. “Sap… Sapnap?! Where did you even come from?!” Tubbo gasped, holding his heart dramatically at the sudden scare.
“From down the hill, you goof.���
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t, why’re you smiling then?” Sapnap sniggered, earning an eye roll from the ram. “Because you’re annoying, and it’s making me smile because of how annoying you are.”
The demon snorted a laugh. Tubbo really was the sassy boy he always remembered.
The two settled underneath the tree together, just catching up. They really needed it, it was obvious on both sides that they both missed each other dearly.
They missed the playful bickering and fights they’d have over literally nothing, maybe a piece of bread if anything. Tubbo especially missed the warm feeling he got while around Sapnap. Was it the feeling of coziness inside of him, similar to the feeling of home you get when you’re around someone you’re genuinely fond of- or was it just that Sapnap is warm because he’s a literal fire demon? Probably both.
All was content and nice until Sapnap had to bring up a redacted memory, one Tubbo couldn’t think about without a wild blush spreading across his face.
“Hey Tubs, do you remember the tickle fights we used to have? Well, not exactly fights since you never put anything up- Ow!” Sapnap rubbed his shoulder where the boy flicked him, a grumpy but obviously flustered scowl painted on his face.
“Embarrassed, are we? C’mon, it’s not like you’re still that ticklish anymore!”
The embarrassed squeak that left Tubbo really just made all the dignity he had left drain away.
“...Or are you?” Sapnap continued, his curious glance turning into a dark grin. “Hey there- buddy, friend, mate- you d- don’t gotta… gotta do it… actually I think it’s getting late and I should be getting home!” Nervous giggles poured out of the boy, shuffling backward on the grass.
Sapnap just shook his head. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere, Tubbo. Not until I get my answer!~”
Oh shit. A surprised squeal left Tubbo as he was wrestled onto the ground, though the boy was strong as well and fought back. “Oh, actually fighting back, are we?~ Now that’s a change!” Sapnap teased, making Tubbo’s body go limp.
‘Teasing makes him go all jelly, got it.’ Sapnap thought with a snicker, looking down at his friend.
“S- Sapnap… dohoHON’T- SAHAPNAP!” Tubbo barked out a laugh, trying to twist on his side away from the prodding fingers on the right side of his ribcage. “Nuh-uh, you aren’t going anywhere, mister!” Sapnap sniggered as he pushed the boy’s hips on the ground, drilling his thumbs into the bones in the process.
A loud shriek left Tubbo, failing to buck Sapnap off of him. He fell limp against the grass, knowing that he wasn’t gonna get out of the predicament anytime soon. Not that he exactly wanted to, though.
“Remember you can tell me to stop whenever you’d like me to, bud.” The demon’s face softened into a more reassuring look, slowing down his tickles. Tubbo nodded, opening his mouth to speak before being interrupted with another screech.
Sapnap’s fingers found the sides of his lower stomach, massaging his fingers into the soft skin. This seemed to be successful, Sapnap found.
“SAP-HEHEHEHAHA- F- FUHuhuck ohohoff!” He continued to squirm, stomping his hooves in the plush grass behind Sapnap. “D’awww, Tubbo!~ That wasn’t very nice, was it? Maybe I should remind you of my favorite tactic?” Sapnap raised an eyebrow, relishing in the immediate anticipatory high-pitched giggles that emitted from the smaller boy.
“Do you remember? I think you do, champ! I think you remember all the nibbles and raspberries I used to give to your cute lil’ tummy- and oh how bad they tickled!~ Are you excited? I think you areeee, I can hear your tail thumping on the grass!”
Note taken; Sapnap was still as evil as before.
“Y- Yohou’re so mehehean!” Tubbo whined, covering his bright red cheeks, his shirt riding up with his arms raising. “Uh oh, Tubbo… Look what I have here! A perfect snack right in front of me!~” The man cooed, dragging his dull claws over the ram’s belly before leaning down and blowing a big raspberry right beneath his belly button.
“SHIHIHIHIT! N- NOHOT THAHAT!” Tubbo shrieked, arching his back up. “Not this? Alright, your wish is my command, champ! Guess I have no choice but to do this instead…” He chuckled slowly before beginning to gently nibble on Tubbo’s lower belly, moving up the side to nibble near his waist.
Fuck Sapnap and his stupid stubble, and his even dumber fangs.
“SAAAAHAP- NONONONOHOHOHO!” Tubbo pleaded, weakly pushing at Sapnap’s head, but the damn thing didn’t budge even a centimeter. “No? Okay!~” He giggled, going back to plant another raspberry over the side of his belly.
Arching his back again, the ram dug his hooves in the grass to try to ease the sensations at least a little bit, but the ticklish stubble dragging around his tummy kept making him go limp. “F- FUHUCK YOHOU- Y- YOHOU’RE SO BAAAHAD!” Tubbo retaliated, yet again trying to twist away but his hips were only pushed back down onto the grass.
“I think you need a little manners lesson, don’tcha think, Tubso?~ N’awww, don’t pout at me, you know I’ll just have to do… this…” Sapnap huffed in a breath, Tubbo squealing in anticipation, but then silence.
Tubbo relaxed his muscles as the raspberry didn’t happen- never mind. It happened.
“FUHUHUCK- PLEEEHEHEHEASE!” Tubbo’s body went completely jelly, the tickling too much for him to fight back anymore. Sapnap looked up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You were so bold a few seconds ago, what happened? Hmmm?~ Cat got your tongue, Tubbo? Let’s fix that.” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around Tubbo's waist so he couldn't buck away from his attack.
Raspberry after raspberry, Tubbo knew he couldn’t handle it anymore. “STOHOHAHAHAP! E- ENOHOUGH!” His voice was squeaky and tickled-out, taking deep breaths as he laid down completely limp on the soft grass.
“You alright there, Tubso?”
“Mahahaybe…”
“Here, let me help.” Sapnap smiled, but it was softer this time- way different than the evil grins he was giving while tickling the life out of the poor boy. The demon laid the ram across his lap, gently carding his fingers through his plush hair.
“C- can yohou… keep gohoing? But- gehentle this t- tihime?” Tubbo stuttered out, Sapnap audibly cooing at the sweet boy. “Of course, it would be my pleasure- seeing how evil I was earlier.” He jested, earning an exaggerated noise of agreement from Tubbo.
He snickered, tracing his dull claws in random shapes over the boy’s belly, letting them graze up and down his sides and back down to circle around his hips. The affectionate light tickles were making the tickled-out boy sleepy, as he curled up in the warm demon’s lap and softly snored as sleep swept over him.
“Sleep well, bud. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ve missed you, y’know that?”
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Could you do an Akaashi Keiji imagine where his girlfriend steals the T-shirt he was wearing after they made out as they got distracted from studying and they playfully argue over the shirt as they both enjoy the view of each other? I’m just soft for Akaashi...
T-Shirt || Akaashi When His S/O Steals His Shirt
same, like honestly who isn’t? i just love him. this ask made me soft, tysm for the request, i loved this ♡ please let me know what you think! also first official scenario/one-shot post :) (even though the others were basically already one-shots on their own but shhh) also, this is gender neutral even though you said girlfriend ♡
warning: suggestive content (making out? but that's about it. also akaashi is hot but we already knew that so here's me describing it)
word count: 3k
Akaashi Keiji
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, excess saliva dragging across the surface. “Ugh, Keiji, get off. You’re crushing me.”
You squirmed, legs kicking out as you tried to use the momentum to roll him off of you. No such luck.
“Mmm, just a little longer...” His breath tickled your neck, hands still dragging down your sides, balling around the fabric of your loose shorts and then releasing it.
You slumped back down, letting your arms fall away from where they had been looped around his neck. Spread starfish on the floor with an immovable force on top you in the form of your boyfriend, you were about to resign yourself to your fate until your eye caught a glimpse of the colorful textbook page still splayed out on his desk. “No. I swear to God if I fail this math test because of you...”
“Yeah? What are you going to do if you fail? Finish the sentence,” came his muffled reply as he buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck. You could feel the vibration of his laugh and shivered at the feeling.
“I won’t come over anymore.”
The vibration increased as he chuckled against your skin and you instinctively brought one hand up to ball into his hair, stretching your neck away from him and in the opposite direction—he knew you were ticklish there.
“Sure you won’t.” You could tell he didn’t believe you and you didn’t blame him—anyone could call that bluff from a mile away.
While you were trying to think of a witty comeback, you felt him shift and suddenly the weight was gone, leaving you feeling empty at the unexpected lack of contact. Blearily blinking up at him, you could make out his face hoovering above yours for a moment as he supported his weight with his arms planted on either side of you before he pushed himself into an upright position with a slight groan, clearly wanting to stay tangled up in your arms a little longer.
Keiji sat back on his heels and studied you, still straddled about your waist, and right as you opened your mouth to stick your tongue out at him in retort to the intense stare, he shifted again and got up (meaning you got absolutely zero satisfaction out of teasing him), carefully stepping over you.
You kept laying on the floor, watching Keiji closely as he rose and stretched, his back to you now and muscles shifting. His shirt had gotten lost somewhere in the scuffle of limbs and lips earlier, so now his entire torso was on display, toned and rippling under his every movement. Your fingers had traced over each of those lines mere seconds ago, yet you found yourself wondering what they felt like now, as if something about them had changed within the short span since you last touched them.
Sure, you had been the one to tell him to get up, ruining the moment with the reminder of the crushing reality that school still existed, but you weren't above redacting your earlier words and calling him back to you just so you could tug on his raven hair with the same cheeky smile you always found yourself sporting in situations like this. You wouldn't even complain about him laying the wrong way on your stomach and crushing all of the air out of you this time either—promise.
Of course, once again, your words died in your throat and you had to change plans when he made for the bedroom door—you had gotten lost tracing the lines of his arms and hadn't noticed when he had stopped stretching his arms above his head—and you sat up with a jolt, your head throbbing a little at the sudden movement.
“Where are you going? You're not getting out of studying that easily, mister."
Keiji paused in the doorway, hands curled around the edges, and he turned to look back at you over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and gaze piercing—you swore your heart caught on fire (you silently begged for someone to put it out) and you involuntarily gulped, throat suddenly dry. He hummed in acknowledgement of your words, ignoring your stiffening up at the look he was giving you (although you were sure he noticed it, judging by the way his eyes raked over the small signs of your body language before returning to look at your face).
"Yeah? I was under the impression you didn't like studying on an empty stomach but-"
"Oh! Go then! What are you waiting for?" The prospect of snacks had you perking up, although you were still acutely aware of the tingling in your lips where he had bit a little too hard before, the feeling spreading from that one spot to the rest of the area. You ran your tongue over your lips to cool the feeling—it was studying time now, so reminder to self: get your mind out of the gutter. "Bring an extra bag of chips too. I'm tired of sharing with you."
He quirked an eyebrow, pursing his lips in a way that was a mixture of silent disapproval paired with him trying to hide a smile. (The truth was that you were the one who always took his chips and he didn't even need to scold you out loud for you to understand the correction that should be made in your statement—although even if he did say anything, you would have stuck with your claim that he was the real chip culprit between the two of you, no matter how untrue it was.)
Seemingly realizing that he was going to lose the internal battle of trying not to smile, Keiji pressed his lips together even harder and turned his attention away from you and instead to where his hand was curled around the doorway, watching as his fingers ran over the ridges and bumps. "You got it." And then he was actually gone, out of the room and disappearing down the hallway. You could barely hear his footsteps, even if you tried to strain your ears—they were as quiet as he always was. Reserved and to himself, Keiji seemed to decide that his footsteps would be the same way.
Fully alone now, you flopped back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling and hands clasp together on top of your stomach. You were replaying the events of that evening in your mind, smiling to yourself as you thought of every little gesture he had made for you.
At some point, plans had been made to study together for the upcoming exam week and that's how you had found yourself on his doorstep, shifting the weighty bag full of textbooks from arm to arm as you waited for him to let you in. It had taken but a mere minute for him to unlock the front door and usher you inside, taking the bag from you—you knew he had been waiting for you, plus he was always a sucker for being on time.
You'd been to his room many times before, but you always looked around to see what had changed from last time, even if it was as minuscule as a stack of papers that hadn't been there before resting on his nightstand.
There was a small, low table in his room, similar to a coffee table, and you two always sat on the floor around it—you found it much more comfortable than sitting on the straight-backed wooden chairs (serious and foreboding in their stance) in his kitchen and dining room. There was a certain freedom of movement on the floor (whether it be to shift closer to him, to spread out your array of pens and highlighters next to you, or to dramatically flop down with proclamation of "I give up!" when faced with a particularly difficult worksheet problem) and a certain aspect of casualness that came with it that set you at ease the same way his presence always did.
This evening had been similar, books crowding the area (and not just school books—“Keiji, I know you like to read, but I have no space for my notebook here and if you don't move your stupid novel right now- What? No, it's not relaxing to read during breaks, what do you think we've been doing this whole time?”) and both of you staring intently down at your work. Keiji had been particularly playful this time though (you thought back to his teasing retorts from earlier when you had told him to get off of you—yeah, he was definitely acting a little different this time around) and one thing led to another before you two were collapsed on the floor next to the table, breaths coming fast and both of you missing your shirts (listen, he had started first, okay?).
Now that you thought about your missing garment, you realize the room was a little drafty, a breeze blowing through his open window and curling it's chilling fingers around your torso. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself and sitting up again. Now where was was your shirt...
Your careful glancing around the room stopped short when you caught sight of the bunched up heap of fabric right next to you. You considered it for a moment before reaching out and plucking it from the floor, shaking it out and holding it up in front of you to confirm was it really was; a familiar shirt unrolled from where your fingers pinched the top of the fabric near the neckline. Keiji’s.
Hmm... well it wasn't like he needed it right now. And that was all the justification you needed before an evil smirk spread across your features, mischievous plan brewing in your mind, and you tugged on Keiji's shirt—finders keepers.
Feeling warmer now, you scooted back over to the table, folding your legs under it and messing around with the strewn around papers you had left out, trying to make sense of the mess. You found what you were looking for and straightened up your books, lining them up in front of you before picking up a pen (you were pretty sure that that was also Keiji's) and trying to get back into the working mindset. You actually had to finish this work at some point (even if along the way to the finish line you took a few unplanned breaks in between with your boyfriend’s tongue down your throat—oops, what?) so you easily fell into the groove of writing, your pen scratching against the paper and the quiet hum of the wind outside keeping you company.
It wasn't long before Keiji appeared in the open doorway, balancing a few packets of snacks in one arm. His small grunt when a pack of cookies almost fell off of the top of the stack and he had to angle his arm to keep it in alerted you of his presence (once again, the muffled footsteps paired with your intense focus on your work did not help) and you looked up. Two bottles of water were gripped in his free hand and you reached out to take them from him once he came close enough, allowing him to use both arms to wrap around the mountain of snacks and then carefully let them spill out onto the table so you could take your pick. He sat down next to you, just as he had before, and started to sort the snacks into piles so they wouldn't contribute more to the mess you two had already made.
You pushed a pack of chips off to the side to make room on the table, a small space revealing itself when you did so and on which you rested the water bottles. "No tea this time?"
He didn't even look at you as he focused on the task at hand. "I know you get tired when you drink tea, so no."
"Hmm, but isn't tea supposed to help when you're studying?"
"This isn't a relaxing studying session. We have a lot to catch up on to make up for that missed hour." Even from the side you could make out the beginnings of a budding smirk on his face at your expense. There he was—your responsible boyfriend. He really was going to go all in on you today it seemed—you thought you had escaped his serious study plans because of how playful he had been earlier, but now that he had blown off some steam, it seemed like he was back to his old disciplined self. You internally groaned at the prospect. Couldn't you just go back to cuddling on the floor, even if it was a little uncomfortable?
"Yeah, and who was the cause of us getting sidetracked?" you shot back, not letting him get away with this.
He paused his movement and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "...Shut up."
You grabbed a bottle of water and cracked the seal, taking a long sip of the cool liquid to commemorate this small victory over him. "Mhm, that's what I thought."
Keiji finished sorting the snacks into some sort of order moments later and, satisfied with his work, sat back. "Mhm... okay, now that that's done..." He looked around him, twisting in place as he looked behind him, at his sides, and around the table, brow creasing further as he went on. "Where is it?" he muttered, his eyes now glancing further into the room beyond where you two were sitting for whatever it was he was he was missing. "Have you seen my shirt? I could've sworn it was right here...” He shook his head in apology. “Right... sorry, I must have misplaced it, I'll just get another one." He was still racking his brain in bewilderment—trying to figure out where his shirt could have mysteriously disappeared off to—as his eyes continued to rake over the room, but as he moved to get up to walk over to his wardrobe, his gaze zeroed in on what you were wearing. His eyes narrowed in confusion before recognition spread over his features.
You decided to play dumb for now, taking another sip of water to hide your smile. "What are you looking at? Quit staring at me like that."
"(Y/N)..."
You turned to face him fully now. "Take a picture, it'll last longer, Keiji," you taunted, teasing lilt in your tone clearly getting to him as you stuck your tongue out in retort, him bristling at the action (perhaps more so out of a certain type of interest in how the words rolled off of your tongue though, rather than for any other reason).
"If you really wanted to wear it, you know you could have just asked me, right?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"My shirt, (Y/N). Can I have it back? I'm actually feeling a little cold right now." He ran his hands up and down over his arms in an effort to generate some warmth and you remembered the open bedroom window. Good. That's what he deserves for distracting you from studying in the first place.
You picked back up your pen and twirled it in your fingers as you leaned on the table, elbows resting on the surface, feigning nonchalance. Out of the corner of your eye you watched him, you gaze mostly focused on the pen in your hand as part of your "cool, calm, and collected" act (you wanted to play around with having the upper hand here for a little longer). Wanting to get a better look at him though (you couldn't resist the temptation of drinking in the sight of him), you dramatically looked away from the pen and back to him, as if considering his earlier request for his shirt back.
His hair was still messy from when you had ruffled it before when his teeth had found your neck, and now as he took a sip from his own water bottle, you could see the slight wetness the liquid left behind on his lips when he took the bottle away, not bothering to wipe it away. Your eyes widened at the slight glisten—he knew what he was doing—and you resisted the temptation to immediately look away in embarrassment, instead forcing yourself to don a coy grin and return to taunting him.
"I recall you complaining about it being too hot earlier, Kei, so I'm not sure which one's the truth now." That had been when you two were still pressed together, feeding off of each other’s body heat. And now came the dangerous part—an invitation, the anticipation of the results of the light provocation already stirring up butterflies in your stomach. “If you want it back that badly, why don't you just take it?"
You expected the crashing of lips, him cutting you off and swallowing your words, taking advantage of the fact that your mouth was open—but instead all you got in response was a small tilt of his head and then a knowing smile. Ugh, you should have known it would have turned out this way, you falling just shy of triumph. He never even fell for Kuroo's, the master of provocation’s, taunts, and while Keiji let you get away with a lot because you were you, you were naive to think you ever had the upper hand here.
He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, thumb running over your lips. You wanted to bite out a bark of “Quit teasing me, Keiji,” but also didn’t want to risk him drawing his hand away either.
Your impatience was put to rest soon though when he spoke, voice low. “I guess I really will have to take it back then." And then he leaned in, your own eyes fluttering closed, and the soft movement of his lips against your own had your heart doing summersaults. You know what? Maybe this was better than what you had in mind.
“So much for playing nice," you felt him murmur against your lips when he pulled back slightly to run his tongue over them. You shivered at the sensation and wasted no time obliging him with your lips slightly parted now, dropping your pen somewhere on the floor and moving instead to splay your hands on his back for support. Your fingers ran over the surface as you had so desperately longed to do before as he continued the sweet onslaught against your tongue. His hand still cradled your face, but now the other one took a special interest in gripping your waist and toying with the edge of his shirt there—A.K.A. the object of his attention (although that title gradually seemed to be slipping to you as he got more and more engrossed in your quiet, shuddering breaths against him, you practically melting against his chest).
Just like last time, a single kiss turned into many, each one more desperate than the last, and before you knew it, you were on your back again, Keiji's fingers playing with the bottom of the fabric of your shirt and tentatively running his hand over the skin underneath, gradually creeping higher. (He seemed to be making a conscious effort not to accidentally lean his elbow on your upper arm again this time either—that had hurt.) Well... you guessed the studying could wait for later. A few detours along the way were fine, weren't they?
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu oneshots#akaashi keiji x reader#akaashi x reader#akaashi keiji#keiji akaashi#akaashi#keiji#akaashi headcanons#akaashi imagine#akaashi imagines#akaashi scenarios#akaashi oneshot#haikyuu!! x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu hcs#i love tagging for one character#any feedback is appreciated <3#i am so in love with akaashi#hope you guys like it <333
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*Since Temperance still hasn't returned, you continue on with the VR game.*
(Part 2 of my Obey Me/Persona AU! I definitely recommend reading the first part, which is right here! Everything is also explained there, so no worries. All good? Then let's get back into it!)
Chapter 1: In the Shade of Forget-Me-Nots and Ferris Wheels (Obey Me Phantom Thief! Mc AU, Mc is Gender Neutral)
Content Warnings: Persona as a series contains a lot of Mature themes! These themes pertain to the darkness in one’s inner cognition and how said cognitions can be warped by the world around them or how their minds warp their worlds instead. Inner demons and that sorta stuff, yeah? This has a few references contained within the story that may have out of context spoilers for multiple games, but these will likely be as minor as possible! (A copy of warning from last time.)
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
(This is for when ??? speaks. This is for when [redacted] speaks.)
"Come, Trickster. What are you waiting for?" The tall stranger's golden eyes seemed to glow at you as they spoke. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as a butterfly flew past your ear and rested on the hand they had raised to beckon you. Each beat of it's paper thin wings seemed to send out a rippling effect, one that vaguely reminded you of the tremors you feel when the MetaNav-esque app had brought you here. "Worry not. The shadows cannot sense you from here, nor can anything else at the moment. If you need proof, take a look at your surroundings, Trickster." When you eyes gazed around, it was as if time was frozen. The rides had stopped in place and the blinding lights were no longer flashing to some far off song. "Now, my master requests your presence. If you would follow me, please." As you took a cautious step forward, they moved to open a door behind them for you. No, a door wasn't the best way to describe it. It looked like a gateway, but one of those very fancy ones that well off people would use to decorate their fantastical gardens. "No need to be so hesitant. You are always welcome in the Velvet Room."
Crossing the threshold of the gate, the colorful lights that surrounded you seemed to fade out, instead turning into a dim moonlight. The attractions melded together, their eye-catching pigments morphing into soft shades of pastel blue that hung off of dark green vines. Before you was a simple mahogany desk, with a tall backed chair behind it that faced away from you. It reminded you somewhat of Lucifer's desk from his office that you had seen once or twice when he had called Mammon in there, but it was missing the heaps of paperwork that covered every inch but the center. The soft creak of the gate closing behind you drew your attention for a moment, seeing the stranger from before closing it. They noticed your gaze and smiled gently, patting your shoulder as they passed by to stand beside the desk. "Master, I've brought them." At those words, the chair began to turn to face you.
Seated before you was an older gentleman, with his most defining feature being the rather long nose. His smile was somewhat uncanny, and his eyes seemed to scan your every move. "It is good to see you again. Quite a good amount of time has passed since you've been here, hasn't it?" He looked familiar yes, but you couldn't put your finger on why. It was as if his name was on the tip of your tongue. "I am glad to see that you are well. Here, take a seat. My assistant will make us some tea." The squeak of chair legs drew your eyes away from the familiar old man, seeing the previous stranger setting a cushioned blue chair in front of the desk before hurrying over to a spot deeper in the garden. You sat down carefully in front of the desk, nervously fidgeting your hands in your lap as you waited for him to speak again. "Well, I believe reintroductions are in order. I am Igor, and this is my Velvet Room. A close friend of yours has spent quite a bit of time in here before you, but it seems that fate has chosen you as my next guest." The name Igor filled in the gaps of your memory, remembering the strange man you had met once before in a room of bars and chains. "This room looks completely different from before, though. Are you sure this is the same place?" Igor chuckled at your words. "That Velvet Room was a creation for the one you knew as "Joker". This one, however, is made specially for you. A room located between consciousness and subconsciousness. But, there will be much time to discuss the logistics of this place in the future. We have a much more pressing matter to attend to at the moment."
The clinking of ceramics temporarily interrupts your one-sided conversation. "Ah, sorry to interrupt. Here is your tea." Igor's assistant spoke after setting two identical cups in front of you, full of steaming tea. They shuffled to stand in an alert position next to the desk afterwards. "Now, let us get to business. You are aware of the thing that brought you to the realm before this one, yes?" "That app? The one that looked sort of like the MetaNav?" "Yes. In opening that application, you have signed the contract that all guests of this room have signed before you. Through this, I grant you the powers of the Wild Card as well as full access to the utilities of the Velvet Room." You went silent, trying to process how you had unknowingly signed a contract that gave you some sort of ability. "I see you are confused. To further eleborate, the power of the Wild Card is one you have seen wielded before. Recall the abilities of your former leader." "Do you mean how he could wield multiple Personas?" "Yes, that is included in that list of abilities. Along with others, of course." A frown crossed your face, folding your hands in your lap while looking down. "Does something trouble you?" The tall stranger cut through the temporary silence, casting a concerned gaze at you. "It's just... Why is there a Metaverse here of all places? I mean I get that it's built of distorted desires, but..." Igor pauses for a moment, raising a hand to rest underneath his chin thoughtfully. "I understand your confusion. Though that place is similar to what you know as the Metaverse, it is much more different than it seems. Why don't you drink your tea while I explain?"
You eye the cup apprehensively, taking it by the handle and lifting it from the saucer. As it neared your lips, the scent of peppermint filled your senses. "As you know, the Metaverse houses Palaces, which in turn house and protect the distorted desires of an individual and their shadow. Yet, as you might guess, demons are quite full of many different desires, all of which are distorted to an extent. This means that there is not exactly as way that one could fully cure one of the shadows of there heart fully, at least not in a way that would not span over many centuries. But, individual desires of the specific demon do litter that world, one that by stealing the treasure of a specific area would allow an entrance of an individual into their heart. An easier way to refer to these would be as a sort of Paradise, rather than a Palace." "But, how would that be helpful to me exactly? They won't have a full change of heart like they would in the real world, so what is the point of opening up a space in their heart?" "A good question, my dear Trickster. Since you are not yet aware of this, I will inform you. Demons can form what is known as pacts with Humans. In a sense, it is similar to the way you call upon your Persona for help. To make it simple, should you steal one of the treasures of their heart, you will have the chance to form a pact with them and essentially guarantee your own safety in the real world."
The sights and sounds of the Carnival filled your senses once more as you stepped out of the Velvet Room, hands stuffed into your pockets. Staring at the striped tents and colorful booths, you contemplated going in just yet. Though you lacked any sort of physical weapon, you could feel the presence of your Persona in the back of your mind. Your eyes scanned across the front of the area, looking for a point to enter from. It wouldn't be very like you as a Phantom Thief to simply enter from the front after all. Then, you spotted it. A stack of crates a little ways away from the colorful arch that displayed a name in a language you couldn't read. It lead into a makeshift alleyway, a perfect place to hide in while you took a good look around. Silently, you thanked yourself for still keeping up your strength over the years as you vaulted over the steep stack.
When the soles of your feet connected with the cobblestone, a familiar set of ripples churned through your body. As you raised your hand to brush away some strands of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, your fingertips connected with a much smoother surface than you had expected. It felt like porcelain, with spiralized etchings set into it. Now that you were looking actually, you didn't remember putting on a pair of gloves at any point that day, let alone fingerless ones. You would have guessed that it had been your Phantom thief attire, but that outfit had full gloves in a bright and distinct color. Not to mention your usual mask covered the whole of your face, while this one simply covered over one eye fully while an opaque veil hung over the over. Taking a look around, you spotted a cracked mirror set haphazardly behind one of the stalls.
The first thing your eyes were drawn to were the corkscrew horns sticking out of your hair.
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
End of Chapter 1. Continue?
Are you enjoying yourself there? Ah, sorry. I did not mean to frighten you. Here, I brought you that snack and drink you wanted. Make sure to keep hydrated and take breaks if you're going to keep playing, alright?
(iufjnksggsogs Igor's speech was hard to write for me because I was lazy and didn't want to watch through like 4 playthroughs of different versions of his opening dialogue. I promise Shadow Mams will make a very strong appearance next time lol. This chapter was originally a lot longer but I had to shorten it so I wouldn't get brainrot it'd be better on the reader. Like always, I'll come back and edit it if I need to later, I'd kill for a good nap right about now lol. If there were any delays in me posting this it was because I was incredibly stoned an hour ago and just staring at low quality jpegs of seals.)
#obey me imagines#obey me x mc#obey me x you#obey me x reader#obey me mammon#obey me mc#obey me fic#i will post the shadow mammon concept art for the low low price of your mortal soul#or a herseys cookies and cream bar. i am hungry#stolen paradise
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