#i have to have my hair pulled straight back otherwise i chew on it when im nervous. cannot wear it down
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I would love to be a stylish Legally Blonde-esque law school girlie but unfortunately I am physically incapable of looking cute for trials
#i have to have my hair pulled straight back otherwise i chew on it when im nervous. cannot wear it down#and i dont wear heels in trial anymore because i find the discomfort to be distracting#ill be in there looking like a 50 year old librarian. it's fine
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Hi hello!! I absolutely adore your writing and I hope you're having a good day!
I was wondering if maybe I could request a (mystreet) Zane x Reader with a reader who loves spoiling + pampering him all while he's still wrapping his mind around the fact anyone could even like him romantically lol. If not no worries!!
𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet zane x fem!reader
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when you don't expect love to find you, it's hard to comprehend when it does. for zane, it's a mystery.
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, slight hurt/comfort? zane cries just a lil bit, otherwise super cute
𝐂𝐖: none?
𝐀/𝐍: i made this a bit more emotional than anon probably intended with the request. but i’m weak for men who are vulnerable so i had to do it to em. i have a soft spot for zane i want to be besties with him my lil emo pookie wookie. also guys i finished this after drinking half a bottle of wine so if there's any typos i'm sorry lolll
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
zane had gone quiet ten minutes ago, his eyes spacing away as he blankly nodded along to whatever you said. you ignored it at first, trying to figure out if it was just you overthinking things or if something about him was really off.
you had excitedly asked him over to hang out. it wasn’t the first time, but this time you decided to be extra affectionate and doting on him. fresh baked heart shaped cookies were laid out on the coffee table as you ushered him to rest on the couch with you. you turned on whatever show he wanted while you had him rest his head on your lap.
sliding his scarf down his face, you lean over him as you rub his cheeks with your thumbs. it was a shame he covered and hid his face so often. while he acted different from his brothers, he still most definitely looked like them, and the ro’meave boys never had any bad complaints about their looks.
porcelain skin somehow was perfectly clear, save for the freckles that painted along his straight nose and high cheekbones. thick dark hair starkly contrasted against his face, the same color beautifully framing his bright icy-blue eyes.
“you’re so pretty.” you whisper.
the apple of his cheeks glow red and his lips warble, his fingers trailing across the fabric of his mask as if he was tempted to pull it back up to hide away.
“you’re prettier.” he refutes, the genuineness and uncertain shyness in his tone enough to keep you from teasing him.
you merely tap his nose, before your fingers trail up to his thick black hair. gingerly, you pull it back, fully exposing his other eye and the light scar that nicked his eyelid and brow. with a satisfied hum, you lean back to grab the bag you had prepared before.
“what’s that?”
“skin care.”
“for…?”
“you! will you let me?”
“...if you want.”
you quietly cheer in victory, a smile on your face. his lips twitch up and his eyes glisten as up at you while you begin your routine. as soon as you start massaging products into his face, he sleepily drifts his attention to the tv. after a moment his muscles go limp against you, a deep exhale leaving through his nose.
you poke his nose and lean down to kiss his freckles, giggling as his ears grow red. one kiss follows another, and another, and another, as your lips touch and trace each mark along his pale skin. he made a whimpering noise of protest, pale hands reaching up to hold your face in place as your lips had threatened another kiss on his soft cheeks.
“hm?” you question. dark lashes hide his eyes as they dart away from your face and towards the screen.
“it’s nothing.” he mumbles, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as his hands drop back down to his side.
your eyebrows pinch at his sudden mood change, but you don’t question him further, reaching over to feed him a cookie instead.
“okay…” you simply return, patting his cheek as he chews the sweet snack. “are the cookies good?”
“mhm.” he nods, voice warbling as he hums.
a moment passes, the background noise of the show the only other noise in the room as you stare down at him. his lashes still hide his eyes from you as they brush along his cheekbones.
“what’s wrong?” you finally question.
the question is met with silence as you feel his shoulders tense against your legs. your fingers reach out to gently brush against his cheeks.
“zane, look at me.”
finally his eyes drift back up to yours, icy blue glazed over with emotion.
“why are you so quiet?”
“i’m just… confused, i guess.” he mutters.
instead of asking him, you patiently wait for him to continue, tilting your head as you lightly trace small shapes across his face.
“well, confused isn’t the right word… or maybe it is?” he groans, pale hands reaching up to rub against his face. “you’re just… so sweet. i can barely imagine any girl giving me the time of day, let alone you. i guess i still just don’t understand why you’d want to spend your time and energy on me. it’s not like i was your last choice, either. you’re beautiful and unbearably kind. You could have anyone you wanted. And i’m just… me.”
for a moment you don’t know how to respond, completely taken by his words. your fingers pause against his jawline, and he freezes at your following silence. his eyes widen in regret, and for a moment you swear he looks on the verge of tears before he shoots up from his spot on your lap.
“it’s nothing, forget it.” he mumbles quickly, facing away from you.
“no! no, it’s not nothing, i was just surprised!” you leap forward to hug him from behind, voice scrambling to comfort him. “i didn’t think you felt that way.”
your hands connect over his chest, feeling his heart thud in his chest. his rib cage stutters as he takes in a shaky breath, one hand reaching up to grip onto yours.
“zane, i chose you because i love you. i treat you like this because i truly want to.”
slowly, he twists his body to look back at you. you’re barely able to see the shine of the tear running down his cheek before he buries his head in the crook of your neck, practically tackling you back down into the couch. his hands tightly wrap around you, holding you close as he lays on top of you. your heart swells at his vulnerability, a side he had rarely shown to you.
“i love you.” his voice whispers back to you, the words barely loud enough to be heard if you weren’t paying attention.
“when you’re not pretending to be a grumpy, unhappy little grouch, you’re one of the sweetest men i’ve ever met.” you continue, rubbing one hand along his back while the other runs through his hair.
the neckline of your shirt feels damp, and you feel another shaky exhale against your collarbone.
“thank you.”
“i adore you, zane. you don’t need to thank me for something that isn’t a chore to me.”
his head shifts, turning towards the screen as he quietly stares at the show playing on the screen. you pull the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over the two of you, hugging him to your chest and continuing to rub his back.
“want to stay here for a while?” you ask softly.
“...yeah.”
©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.
#aphmau#aphmau mystreet#mystreet x reader#x reader#mystreet#zane ro'meave x reader#zane ro'meave#mystreet zane
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hi baby!! could we get sirius comforting shy!reader that’s a bit embarrassed of her body hair? maybe she’s trying not to shave for the first time? thank you ily
hi! im not sure she's as shy as you wanted but i hope it's OK, thank you for requesting! ♥︎ fem!reader
"My darling," Sirius says, sweet and silky and only half-joking. "Move over, please."
You snap out of your movie-fuelled reverie and shuffle over with an apology, making room for him to stretch out on the sofa beside you. He does so without remorse, more comfortable with you now than he'd be by himself.
"What did I miss?" he asks, smelling like garlic cloves and olive oil, the dinner he's just set to simmer.
"Want me to rewind?"
He buries his face in your shoulder. "No," he says, breath hot on your skin, "just tell me what happened."
You start to explain, sinking down with his weight. He listens, hand flattening over your stomach and squeezing gently when he likes what you've said.
The movie goes on and Sirius gets bored, fingers running along the edge of your t-shirt. You squirm, knowing exactly what it is he's about to do, and usually you'd love it — he slides his hand under your t-shirt and gives your tummy a good old-fashioned loving. You sit up to discourage him and he takes no notice, fingertips pushing under, pads a split second from feeling your naked skin.
You slap your hand over his. "Wait."
He raises his eyebrows, surprised. "What?"
"Uh." You thread your fingers through his. He's resistant.
"What? You don't want me to touch you?" he asks. Sirius is straight-forward when he wants to be. Which is usually when you want him not to be.
"You- Uh. You remember that conversation we had?"
He stares at you. "You realise we spend a lot of time together?"
"Right," you say. You have a lot of conversations. "About my-" You hate how shameful it feels to say aloud. "My stomach. My body hair."
He tries to pull his hand out of yours, an eagerness on his face that makes you want to leave the country. "I remember. You didn't shave? Let me see."
"No," you moan, face hot, trying very hard not to laugh at his enthusiasm. "No, get off."
"Please?" He tugs your t-shirt up before you can stop him. It's so dark in your living room that there's no way he can see it clearly, the beginnings of hair growing back in. "Nice."
"Sirius, please don't," you plead, words coming out in an embarrassed mumble.
"Can I touch you?"
You sigh and deflate. Trust him to be so awfully serious when he needs to be. He's endearing, and the worst, and you love him and want to shake him by the shoulders. Body hair isn't anything to be ashamed of, as he'd said emphatically and sincerely, but just because he says it doesn't erase years of self disgust. When you're taught so intrinsically to hate it, even his unwavering affection can't convince you otherwise. At least, not straight away. It had taken more than a few words for you to make this decision.
"Yeah," you mumble.
"You sure?"
You smile at him. "Yeah, Sirius. You can touch me."
He lays his hand flat over your stomach. You cringe, wondering if he can feel your short hair, wondering if he hates it, if he'd tell you if he did. He doesn't say anything, only gives you your usual squeeze and tips his head back. He waits for you to meet his eyes and smiles, so wide his eyes squint shut.
"Love you," he says, hand climbing up.
"Love you," you say. Then, "Are you… sure it's not gross?"
"Positive. Next question."
"Seriously, Siri, I know you're my boyfriend and you love me but if it's gross I'll get rid of it."
"Do you want to?" he asks.
You chew on your lip. You do want to shave it. You feel prettier when you're bare-skinned. But you also want to learn to love your natural body, because you know there's nothing wrong with the way you are or the things your body does.
"I don't know."
He lifts his hand, peering down his nose at your stomach. "Don't bite me, but I think it's cute." He runs a fingertip down your navel. "Little crab trail."
You yank down your shirt over his hand. "Shut up."
He laughs, hand clamping down on your hip so he can press a mass of kisses into the curve of your neck. "Love you," he says between them. "Love everything about you." His hand drifts back to your stomach and you slap it. "Ouch. Don't bully me. Just wanna touch you."
"Insufferable boy…" You melt a little under his touch. "Thank you. For not caring."
"Of course. You're perfect the way you are." He leans backward into the sofa cushions and strokes your stomach gently. "You know?"
You refuse to answer.
He shrugs. "We'll get there. You're perfect to me. And that's what's important."
You elbow him in the side.
#sirius black x reader#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black drabble#sirius black imagine#sirius black x you#sirius black#marauders era#marauders#the marauders x reader#the marauders fanfiction#the marauders fanfic#the marauders#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black fanfic
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fuck it friday
Tagged by the wonderful @heartbeatdiaz @wikiangela @spotsandsocks thank you 🧡🩷💛
I couldn’t decide between posting more of my ‘Buddie Rodeo/Bull Riding AU’ or a little bit more of my Buddie Librarian AU so I thought well fuck it I’ll give you a little bit of both, It’s fuck it Friday after all.
Let me check you out: (for the amazing @hannah-ruth-990)
Eddie had never met someone like Buck. Someone so infuriating, chaotic and well, hot. When Bobby had told him he would be sharing an office with a man named Buck who is a little eccentric, he had been expecting an older guy, not a 6’2 tall guy who was dressed in mid-blue jeans that hugged his long legs and a brightly knitted sweater that he’s pretty sure he’d seen one of Christopher’s preschool teachers wearing one time, to walk into the office. He couldn’t be any older than Eddie himself and well what Bobby had said kinda made sense now:
“You’ll be sharing with Buck until we get your office fixed, again I am really sorry about the inconvenience, but I have a feeling you’ll get along great.”
Eddie had been confused, of course he can get along with his colleagues, always makes an effort to be polite, but the way Bobby had said it made it sound like more than that. He’d also be confused later when Buck had walked in and Eddie’s tongue had gotten stuck to the roof of his mouth, wondering how in the hell Bobby had known Eddie’s type when he wasn’t even sure of it himself.
Bobby shows him the office and Eddie grimaces at the mess, it was like a tornado had gone through the space. It set Eddie on edge, he likes a clean and organised space, otherwise, he’d never be able to focus to get work done.
“This will be your desk here,” Bobby points to the right one, just as full as the left one, “sorry for the clutter, Buck is a little eccentric.”
Eddie had just nodded and gotten to work tidying up his desk and moving the piles of stuff over onto the left desk when Buck walks in. His smile as bright as his overly cheerful sweater, dimmed as he saw Eddie. He feels like he’s been hit by a truck with how suddenly he finds Buck attractive. Normally it takes him a while to figure that stuff out but it's glaringly obvious similar to how glaringly hideous that sweater is. Seriously if he can find Buck attractive in that he’s doomed.
Alright, Cowboy, Go Get 'Em:
Eddie’s right hand slides up his back, cups the back of Buck’s neck and pulls him in for a chaste kiss before mouthing down his neck and sucking another mark onto it, this one higher than the last and not so easily hidden. Buck moans, grinding down against Eddie.
“I think you have an obsession with marking me,” Buck means it as a tease, but it comes out more breathy and needy than he attends.
Eddie looks up at Buck, cheeks flushing red and pulling away from Buck as much as he can with him in his lap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-I-”
“It's okay I like it,” Buck says but Eddie continues like he didn’t hear Buck, working himself up, running a hand through his hair and his eyes darting around, avoiding Buck’s gaze.
“-I should have asked, I shouldn’t just have assumed-”
“Eddie,” Buck grabs his face between his hands, eyebrows furrowing in concern, “Hey, hey it's okay! I liked it, okay? But I don’t really think this is really about hickeys, or not only about hickeys, what's got you freaking out?”
Eddie finally meets Buck’s eyes, they’re filled with what Buck thinks is panic. Eddie goes to say something, closes his mouth and chews on his lip. Finally, he sighs and flops backwards on the bed and covers his face with his arm. He says something but Buck can’t make it out.
“I can’t hear you”
“I’ve never done this before,” Eddie says decidedly louder
“What sex?” Buck jokes
Eddie snorts, “No-ah-you know.”
And Buck does know, he’s been people’s first before, knows that a lot of guys he picks up from the Rodeo have only had straight sex, but from the way Eddie had been last week, Buck had kinda been under the impression that Eddie had some experience with guys.
“First time with a man,” Buck says
“Yeah-yes that but also first time hooking up…casually,” Oh “I don’t know what is allowed, you know, it’s different in a relationship.”
Buck didn’t actually know, the longest he’d dated someone was Sally in high school and that had only been four weeks.
If you want to check out some of my other works my current WIPs are ‘Buddie MMA Rivals AU’ and ‘Buddie Rodeo/Bull Riding AU’ and here’s a master list of some of my works and this is my AO3
Let me know if you want to be tagged in any update to do with either one of these fics by commenting or tagging it when u reblog!
No pressure tagging: @wildlife4life @alyxmastershipper @jesuisici33 @prince-buck-diaz @try-set-me-on-fire
#fuck it friday#my wips#buddie#9-1-1#evan buckley#Eddie Diaz#cowboy buck#cowboy buddie au#librarian buddie au#thewolvesof1998 writes#fic: let me check you out
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Malleus and Lilia x Frail and Abused Reader Part 1
Ever since you’ve arrived here at Night Raven College things have been a bit better for you. Though you worry about your two younger brothers and your father back at home.
You wear the standard Night Raven College uniform and your uniform color is yellow. You’re 166cm (5'4) tall, which means you’re that bigger than Riddle. You have short turquoise hair with a black streak on the left side of your hair like Jade. You look like a boy, dressed like one, but your voice was an immediate dead give away. Your personality was a dead give away too. You’re very shy, quiet, gentle, humble, empathetic, and too kind.
Right now you were outside with your class for physical e.d. with Mr. Vargas.
“Alright you bunch of weaklings we’re going to run some killer laps today!!” said Mr. Vargas.
Everyone except you started complaining.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!! It’s like over a hundred degrees out here!” complained Ace.
“I don’t want to hear it!! Now all of you- Start Running!! But (Y/N) you stay here and do some stretches and jumping jacks. Vanrouge, I want you to stay by his- I mean her side! There’s a cooler of water bottles for her if she overheats. If that’s not enough out her in the shade of the tree,” said Mr. Vargas.
You were glad you were in the back hiding where no one can see you. Everyone was angry at you. You were happy until-
“Oh? Who’s (Y/N)?” asked Lilia.
That’s when Mr. Vargas dug through the crowd of students and pulled you out in front for everyone to see.
“This is (Y/N)!!” said Mr. Vargas.
“Ooh. Okay!” said Lilia happily, while the rest of the students glared at you.
You were so embarrassed and blushing so badly you got light headed. When everyone started running, you were now alone with Lilia. A short while has gone by and you were struggling to do sit ups as Lilia held your feet down. You were gasping and wheezing as your stomach and ribs were hurting.
“Wow! You’re really out of shape. You should join Silver and Sebek as I train them,” said Lilia.
“Thank you, but no thank you,” you laughed.
Lilia started to notice how red you were and that you were sweating an unhealthy amount.
“How about we stop now. I’ll get you some water,” he said, uneasy.
You struggled to stand up and mumbled, “Thank... you...”
You fell forward and Lilia caught you.
“Thank... you...” you mumbled again.
“Maybe we should sit under the tree,” Lilia said concerned.
You were both now sitting in the shade of the tree drinking water. You couldn’t help, but notice that Lilia looked red too.
“Lilia, are you okay,” you asked.
“Yes, it’s just that my skin isn’t built for sunlight, and it doesn’t make it better being hot,” he said.
You frowned feeling bad for him. You now understood why Lilia is the only only one who wears a visor. Gym was soon over and your best immediately ran over to your side. He was your best friend and your next door neighbor back at home.
“(Y/N) are you, okay?!” he ask really concerned.
“I’m fine. Just a little headed,” you said.
“Remember, on days like the doctor said you have to go to the nurse’s so they can fluids into you. Let’s go, now so you’ll only miss half of Mr. Crewel’s lesson,” (Y/B/F) said.
“What a shame. I love his class,” you mumbled.
“Yeah, but your health comes first. You can’t enjoy class while unhealthy now can you?” he asked.
You gave a smile, knowing he was right. (Y/B/F) always took care of you. He forcibly made it his business to look after; however, this worried you a lot because you knew this built on stress for him. But his grades says otherwise.
You were currently lying on an infirmary bed with a tube in your arm are providing you fluids. (Y/B/F) sat by your side the whole entire time watching over you. After you had a snack and rested after your treatment you went straight to class with (Y/B/F) by your side. When you made it class Ace and Deuce chewed you out for having to watch Grim for you, but you knew they were getting used to it.
“Good girl!” said Mr. Crewel. “After being over thirty minutes late for class you’re getting everything right. The rest of you bad dogs should learn something from her!”
You blushed embarrassed, knowing that you were smart. But since you and Grim shared grades you were struggling to keep a low B. Class was soon over and now was your second favorite part of the day, lunch. Like any normal person you loved food, and since for your poor health you have a special medical card and note, which allows you to get more food than anyone else.
You were about to eat lunch when (Y/B/F) dumped a bunch of vegetables on your tray.
“You can not just eat junk. You need some vegetables,” he said.
“What are you to (Y/N) anyway (Y/B/F). You’re acting like your her mom,” said Deuce.
You flinched and trembled at the mention of your mom, but only (Y/B/F) saw this.
“Seriously, has Riddle been rubbing off on you?” said Ace.
(Y/B/F) took great offense to this, since Riddle often scolded him considering he’s also in Heartslabyul. You sighed and ate your lunch slowly with all your friends leaving before you. You told (Y/B/F) to leave, and obliged knowing better than to get you upset.
“Ooh! Eating lunch all by yourself now?” said ???
You then saw it was Lilia floating above you upside down.
“Hi, Lilia,” you said.
Lilia groaned seeing that you weren’t startled. Never the less he floated down and sat with you.
“You know if you’re lonely you can always sit at my table,” Lilia said, happily.
You looked over at his table and saw Silver and Sebek. You kept your smile, yet you sweated at the offer. You held onto your arm and politely declined his offer. Lilia took notice on how you held your arm and gently prided away your hand.
“Hey, what are you-” you said.
He then saw the bandage on your arm from the fluid injection.
“What happened?” he said concerned.
“Nothing, I just needed more fluids in my system,” you tried to laugh it off.
Lilia frowned and sighed, “You should really take better care of yourself. How about you have some tea with me tomorrow?”
You shuddered at the thought of going to Diasomnia alone, but you couldn’t as well lie to Lilia since he was trying to be sweet.
“Uh... Yeah sure... I’m not doing anything tomorrow afternoon,” you muttered.
“Great!” said Lilia with a big smile.
He then disappeared leaving you cold.
“What have I gotten myself into?” you said to yourself.
It was now nighttime, your favorite part of the day. You called your brothers on the phone to make sure they’re okay and to ask questions about your father. Everything they told you sounded normal and safe.
When the phone call ended your heart was aching thinking about the tea party at Diasomnia. You were down right terrified and couldn’t tell (Y/B/F) otherwise he’ll make you call it off or call it off for and you didn’t want to make Lilia sad.
“What have I gotten myself into?” you asked yourself, before going to sleep.
#lilia vanrouge#malleus draconia#twisted wonderland#lilia x reader#malleus x reader#lilia & malleus x reader#abused reader#frail body
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(( @inky-da-dinky has a Murmaider Merfolk AU that's thoroughly consumed me the past day or two, so I filled out another prompt using that as the setting.
25. Write about your ship bathing or swimming together. ))
Jimi watches the slow movement of her feet kicking underwater, her soles unnaturally pale in the light, and sighs. “I still think this is all just a ploy for you to see my toes.”
She feels Pickles’ laughter vibrate up through the current to her legs and body, before he breaks the surface and she hears it. Funny, how different it feels through the water, like gentle drumming, compared to the light and jovial snickers he vocalizes.
“I'm not gonna lie, they are cute.” The cecaelian grins as he folds his arms at the water's edge, flashing that golden canine at the painter. “Yer just so adorable, I could eat ya up.”
“Ohhh, so that's it! You're gonna have me for dinner.”
“When ya put it that way…”
The twinkle in those seagrass eyes this time makes Jimi gulp, and she looks away, pulling the towel more tightly around her shoulders.
“How ya feeling?”
“... Pretty good, I guess. Everything's all warm.”
The molly was working as intended, then. Truthfully, Jimi didn't feel all that anxious anymore. The water was no longer cool, she actually didn't feel any kind of chill that necessitated the towel around her. It was just a really nice towel, each little loop of cotton feeling like cloudsilk against her skin. The water didn't feel wet so much as, like, a second, comforting skin from mid-calf down to feet, velvet and natural against her.
And everything's so vibrant. She can almost taste the glow of the lamps off the water, the colors of the paintings in progress across the wall, and Pickles himself. Crimson and salt and iron and something else that feels just right for her to grind beneath her teeth.
Jimi blinks. Okay, yeah. She's definitely high enough for this now.
“Good?” Pickles pushes off the edge, tentacles flowing beneath him like a slow-dancing blossom. He floats in front of Jimi, watching her expectantly. “Ready?”
Taking a deep breath, Jimi sits up straight, letting the towel drop from shoulders. She stops moving her feet, letting them drift, but makes no move otherwise. There's still a tiny bead of anxiety in her, tickling the back of her mind like a long-buried memory, and it's enough to make her chew her lip as she stares into the shallows of Pickles’ tank. “... This is still weird.”
“How come?”
“People like me don't swim, Pickles.”
At the cecaelian's confused quirk of his lips, Jimi gestures at herself. It takes a moment, but his mouth forms a little ‘o’ of understanding.
“Well, that's just sad.” That's putting it lightly, Jimi thinks, but judging by the way Pickles sways from side to side, he means it sincerely. “She really loves ya, you know. S'why I wanna do this for ya.”
“Who's ‘She’?” asks Jimi.
But Pickles doesn't respond, instead drifting closer to her, holding out his hands. “It's better if I show you. I won't let ya go, promise. Just one lap.”
There's just one last, long moment of hesitation. It's too late to back out now. Jimi's already here and in the appropriate swimwear, already braided her hair down for this, and if something goes wrong, hopefully, it'll be quick. At least she'll be too zooted to feel the suffocation.
Taking one last deep breath, she pushes off.
Her stomach drops as she leaves the concrete for the fluid depths, feeling like she's dropping into a warm vat of nothing. A strong tendril wraps around her waist, leaving her suspended and above water from the ribs up. Her flailing hands are grasped firmly with fingers that are damp and only slightly alien.
As promised, Pickles doesn't let her sink. Wrapped around her like a safety belt, the cecaelian smiles at her as Jimi otherwise floats in the water, her feet slowly, naturally kicking. She's halfway to swimming, for the first time in her life. No thrashing, no silent screams as she's pulled and dragged under.
There's no panic or dread in her heart, only a calm sense of… belonging.
“Holy shit,” Jimi murmurs, and Pickles laughs again.
“I know, right?” His eyes are nearly black from the ecstasy, but he's still with her, still has a pinprick of focus on the painter that makes her shiver.
Jimi glances down, hardly able to comprehend the grass and rocks below for the mass of crimson around her. All writhing and wonderful and… chewy. “Can I touch ‘em?”
“By all means!”
“Don't sound so eager,” Jimi finally laughs, just a bit.
Pickles releases one of her hands as another tentacle rises up, the flexible little tip curling and waving in a little ‘hello!’ for her. Jimi reaches out with curious fingers and it – he – wraps around and through them and she's not sure what she expected, but it’s certainly not this. Firm and slippery, velvety with just the slightest give beneath her fingertips as she travels down the length. There's the faintest hint of texture, like goosebumps, and the suction cups feel like strong little kisses against her palm, but otherwise…
“Feels like a dick,” Jimi blurts out, and Pickles throws his head back in raucous laughter.
“Well,” The scarlet-headed cecaelian drawls, once he settles down into a fit of giggles. “If you really wanna, later, we can…”
His words stay suspended in the air, like ripe fruit for the plucking. Jimi raises two dark brows at him and he lifts a pierced pair right back at her.
“How about… we stay focused here?” The painter says carefully, a smirk playing about her lips.
“Eyes on the prize?”
“Eyes on the prize.”
Yet they're only staring at each other. Pickles takes Jimi's hands in his own again and slowly eases up on the grip around her waist. Still holding her, but also allowing Jimi to start feeling the encompassing embrace of the water. And she feels it all, the microscopic brushes of millions of crystals of salt on her skin, the ghost sensation of reeds and weeds against her legs, the faint call of precious daughter, come home.
Pickles pushes off without warning and suddenly they're moving, soaring through the water.
Jimi falls forward and wraps her arms around his torso with a yelp of “Oh shit!” She feels the rumble of laughter in his chest as he wraps strong arms around her, and they swim as one.
Well, Pickles is doing the swimming, really, as Jimi holds on for dear life, but they feel like one. Like there's no difference between his skin and her swimsuit and the water that flows around and through them. Pickles leans back so she's nearly laid atop him, head and shoulders kept up and out of the pool while the rest of her is vertical like she's swimming herself. The tendril around her waist eventually unwinds, instead steadying her from beneath as they slowly swim around the surface of his tank.
It’s absurd that Jimi was ever afraid of this. There is no distinction between herself and the crimson cecaelian and the water and the echoes of the ocean where they all belong. Being held in his many arms, unwinding like an unspooled ribbon, all to sway entwined just as it was meant to be. Here, she’s not small, she’s not insignificant, scared and seclusive. In the waves, she’s grand, she is brilliant, and together they have the universe as their domain. Schools of stars scatter before them, reefs of planet falls tremble as they pass over them. Winding between chaos and cosmos, they roar. A pounding of carmine drums, their many hearts beating in tandem. Light flashes at the edge of creation and lucent bells ring in response – the glow of the eternal one, reborn and rejoined to the crimson beast, at last.
– come home, come home, o darling daughter, luminous and lost –
The brilliant colors dull as Jimi sputters, turning over to eject more water from her nose and mouth, salt stinging her sinuses and making her eyes water.
“Ope, easy there.”
Pickles lays at her side, blocking a good amount of the light. Her coughs subsiding, Jimi pushes herself up on her forearm. They’re back on ground, and the water feels miles away, even though Jimi could see it if she could peer over Pickles’ form. The pull is there, fading ache, soon replaced by a yearning as deep as it was bewildering.
“What… what?” She sits up, and a cloth is dropped around her, dabbing at face and body until Jimi waves her hands. “Oof, hey – thanks,” she sighs hoarsely, throat stinging, as she takes the towel from the attentive tentacles attempting to dry her.
Even in shadow, Pickles’ eyes are radiant, his pupils once again that unidentifiable dark shape surrounded by seagrass irises. He looks at the painter with an unreadable expression, and even his normally restless arms are subdued and steady.
“What happened?” Jimi finally manages to ask, once she’s rubbed the droplets from her body and wrapped the towel around herself once more.
Pickles’ fingers tap against the concrete, a rapid, uneasy beat. “... You tried to dive,” he says quietly.
She should be more startled than she is. Instead, Jimi looks to where the water is, her brown eyes going beyond the pool, beyond Mordhaus Aquarium – to the rivers and seas and Ocean beyond. There’s a song within her, wrapped tightly in a helix shell, and it’s silent.
“Can we go back?” Jimi asks in a small voice.
The wet slide of tendrils foretell of the twin slaps that sound against the ground. Pickles wraps his arms molded in the shape of man around Jimi, and feels so very human when he breathes deep of the air and exhales against her neck.
“I’ll take you anywhere ya want,” he says in a shuddering, world-trembling voice.
Jimi nods and holds him in return, feels the swirl of galaxies churning and settling within her. “Okay,” she says, and she swallows down that spark, the newborn sun alight with her after a long cycle of shadow. “Thank you.”
[Soft OTP Prompts]
#metalocalypse#pickles the drummer#jamila calabash#mtl oc#my writing#more of the myth/lore side of mtl stuff
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A Midsommar Night’s Dream
Prelude - I watched midsommar so have this.
Pairing - Izuku X reader X Todoroki males
Warnings - NSFW, dead dove, do not eat. Implied incest, cult-like behaviors. Dubcon.
Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/7clyJIrLkEbXUDwj1tC9zz?si=EK3gCdOHQ3WQeK-ed9eucg
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Izuku’s been officially dating you for three weeks.
Three weeks.
He’s known you for far longer - the two of you solid friends since you first met. The man doesn’t know when friendship had evolved into something more, but he’s sure glad it did.
You were sweet, and kind, and far too caring for your own good. You didn’t mind waiting up for Izuku when his nights ran late, studying for his masters or taking on extra shifts.
You would rub his shoulders when he got stressed, offer to make him tea or run him a bath or anything else he needed, anything to help out. You loved him, and he loved you.
Tonight was a night that many partners might fear - meeting the family.
But Izuku was hardly worried. He was best friends with your brother Shouto, a level-headed student with good work ethics and a dry sense of humor. The rest of the family couldn’t be that bad.
A simple dinner, you had told him, dress casual and no gifts required. Still, Izuku felt obligated to bring the finest bottle of bourbon his paycheck could afford him (he’d asked Shouto what your father’s favorite was, just to be safe).
The Todoroki household was impressive; massive and imposing in the countryside, surrounded by tall stone walls and looking straight out of a victorian romance novel. Izuku knows what those look like, because he’s seen them on the covers of the romance novels you like to read. He’s always doing his best to pay attention to your likes and dislikes.
“Izuku!” came your excited little voice as the door opened after his loud knock, and the green-haired man couldn’t stop himself from breaking out in a smile.
You were almost bouncing in excitement behind your older brother Shouto as he held the door open, taking the offered bottle of bourbon from Izuku with a nod before leaving you alone together in the foyer.
“Hey, missed you-” Izuku grunted as you attacked him in a hug, and a laugh bubbled out of you both when the solid man had to take a step backwards from the push of your body.
“Missed you too! I’m so excited for tonight, it’s so good that Dad and the rest of the family are accepting you.” A quick kiss to his cheek distracted Izuku.
You were fairly comfortable with physical touch, resting your head on his shoulder, never afraid to snuggle up to his side on movie nights, or hold his hand out in public (especially now that the two of you were dating). But Izuku had honestly expected more.... sensuality once the two of you started seeing each other as lovers more than just friends.
He had asked to kiss you one night, after you’d made him dinner and rubbed his shoulders and listened to him talk about the latest subject he was studying. Izuku had felt his heart warm, like cold wax cradled over a flame, and his love for you was bursting out of his chest. He wanted to kiss you and hold you close, tell you how much he loved you.
You had just smiled shyly and shook your head, saying you wanted to wait a bit. Which Izuku understood! This was all new, going from friends-to-dating, and he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable in any way. He was willing to wait.
So the kiss to his cheek surprised him, made him stutter and blush and hug you a bit tighter.
Then you were taking his hand, leading him through the maze of a house. He couldn’t help but notice the old-timey decorations mixed in with the more modern features, but done in an elegant, timeless fashion. A good blend of old mixed with new.
Stepping into the large dining room hand-in-hand with you, Izuku was met with the sight of the entire Todoroki family.
“Everybody-” You started, catching their attention until every set of eyes was on you and the tall man by your side. “This is Izuku!”
Shouto stepped forward, closest to the pair of you, and set his hand on Izuku’s shoulder with a smile. “Glad to have you joining the family.”
Izuku smiled back, pulling his friend into a hug and giving him a hearty pat on the back.
“This is Fuyumi-” A tap to Izuku’s shoulder had him turning around, stepping away from Shouto to shake your sister’s hand.
“Hi Izuku, I’ve heard such good things about you.” Her voice was soft and gentle, almost like your own. Izuku could see the family resemblance between the two of you.
“And this is Natsuo, he’s studying for his masters just like you.” A white-haired man approached him, friendly and open, ready to shake Izuku’s hand but ultimately pulling him into a hug.
“Sorry, I’m a hugger.” Natsuo laughed, and Izuku shrugged, completely unbothered.
“Here’s Touya.” You introduced a redhead next, a man sitting almost sullenly at the table. He didn’t rise to his feet, didn’t even take Izuku’s offered handshake.
“This is the guy you’ve been babbling about? He looks bori-”
“Touya.” The room, already hushed, grew even more silent, almost heavy with the weight of the voice from the man at the head of the table.
The gangly redhead shut his mouth, looking ready to roll his eyes. You pulled Izuku past him towards the imposing man who was looking at the man at your side, appraising him.
“And this is my dad. Dad, this is Izuku.”
“A pleasure to meet you sir.” Izuku shook the mans large hand, and the man nodded solemnly.
“Sit down, we’re ready to eat.”
-----
Dinner wasn’t a quiet affair. Comfortable conversation flowed easily between everyone; questions about Izuku’s degree, about his goals, his dreams, his job. He knew it was just everyone getting to know him, assurance that he was suitable for their daughter. Izuku wanted to be perfect for you, anything and everything you needed.
Enji (Izuku was not about to call your father dad) asked only a few questions, otherwise decidedly quiet at his spot at the table, chewing his food while watching Izuku respond to the rest of his family.
It was mainly Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto keeping the conversation flowing, Izuku easily keeping up with whatever they decided to talk about, asking engaging questions of his own about the family members he’d just met, laughing easily whenever you made a pun or Shouto’s dry humor jumped out.
Everything seemed to be going well.
Fuyumi asked to be excused, saying she needed to go prepare, and Enji waved her off easily, telling you to go with her. You rose from your chair easily, but not before catching Izuku’s hand and giving it a squeeze, eyes shining as you leaned close to whisper “See you in a bit.”.
“You really love her?” Touya asked as soon as the two women left the room to go prepare dessert, leaving Izuku alone with the male Todoroki’s. Izuku assumed this would be when he gets the shake-down, the usual “Hurt her and we’ll kill you” talk.
“So much. Sometimes I feel like I love her so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” Izuku confessed.
“She talks about you a lot. I think she feels the same way that you do.” Natsuo supplied from across the table, and Izuku felt his cheeks flush, his heart flutter. It was one thing to know you loved someone - to feel the warmth and peace it brought to your soul. It was another to know that they loved you back; it made him feel whole.
“I've seen how you treat her, I think the two of you are a good match.” Shouto said, and Izuku smiled at his friend. Shouto had been his buddy since high school, truthfully was the reason that Izuku and you had met. You’d come along with Shouto one day when he’d come to hang out with Izuku, and the two of you had become fast friends.
Natsuo was rising from the table, walking back to the little shelf along one wall where various drinks sat (and Izuku’s bourbon gift). Izuku watched the man begin to pour out a red liquid, before his attention was caught by Shouto leaving the table as well, taking his plate and exiting the room.
Then Natsuo was placing a glass of the red liquid down in front of Izuku. “Don’t worry, this is nothing more than homemade punch.” He said as Izuku eyed it.
“It’s tradition.” Touya growled and Izuku found himself taken aback at the heat in the other man’s voice. Was the redhead angry at him for some reason?
“Touya, calm down.” The eldest Todoroki said, and Izuku almost wanted to cower himself at the sheer dominance exuding from the powerful man. “Izuku is becoming family. You will be happy for your sister, not jealous.”
Touya huffed, grumbling under his breath before shoving his seat away from the table. “Just don’t fuckin’ hurt her, got it? She’s my baby sister.”
“I would never-” But Touya is already storming out of the room, uncaring of Izuku’s assurances.
Natsuo sighs. “Don’t mind him, he just.... doesn’t like change.”
“What is this again?” Picking up the red drink, Izuku swirled it around the glass, trying to change the subject and hopefully smooth over the tension. Most of the tension had dissipated when Touya left, but it never hurt to be proactive.
“It’s a tea we brew and sweeten ourselves. We grow the plants in the backyard, you’ll see them soon.” Natsuo explained.
“It’s tradition?” Izuku parroted Touya’s earlier words, before taking a quick sip. It was delicious tea.
“Yes, we like to welcome those who are approved to join the family.” Natsuo laughed a little. “Fuyumi’s husband thought we were trying to drug him. It’s really just tea.”
Izuku snorted. It tasted like tea, why would someone think the Todoroki’s were trying to drug them? Sure, the family might be a little odd, but they weren’t malicious... right?
Before he knew it, his cup was empty and Natsuo had slipped out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with the head of the household, Enji.
Where were you? And why had everyone else left the room?
“I’m very particular about who I allow in my house, boy.” Enji started, and Izuku suddenly felt.... uneasy.
“Not everyone thinks the same way as the Todoroki’s. But you seem to be a bright young man. Educated. You aren’t going to be any trouble, are you?”
The last question wasn’t posed as such. It was a statement.
Still, Izuku shook his head. “No sir, I have no intentions of causing trouble.” Why did this casual dinner feel so serious? there was so much emphasis on being accepted into the family, on being welcomed. Izuku recognized how big of a deal that was but still... it’s not like you were about to marry him. He was planning on that a few years down the road.
“Come with me.” Enji instructed, wiping his mouth with his napkin before his impressive bulk hefted itself out of his chair. Izuku felt tiny next to the patriarch, following the man through the dark, empty house.
He wanted to ask where Enji was taking him. Where you had disappeared to, where the rest of the family had gone. But that would be rude, so Izuku kept his mouth shut.
Outside it was dark, moon shining dimly through the sky, the residual warmth of the summer day still held in the air. Izuku followed Enji through the back door, down along a path, into the plentiful, green backyard.
To a grove of trees, torches flickering from within the grove, small bushes and beautiful flowering plants dotted among the trees. A garden, Izuku realized. Those must be the plants and bushes that produce the tea Natsuo had given him.
Then there you were, in a little clearing among the trees.
Sitting on a dark blanket, knees drawn to your chest and ankles crossed in front of you as you hid your body.
Izuku started - you were naked.
Touya was kneeling beside you, a hand on your shoulder as he talked to you gently, barely sparing Izuku and his father a glance as they strode into the torch-lit clearing, Touya’s attention truly focused on you.
Shouto and Natsuo stood in the light, watching you, watching Izuku.
“What is this?” Izuku sputtered, and upon hearing his voice you looked away from Touya, a smile lighting up your face as you saw your Izuku.
“This is tradition boy.” Enji laid a heavy hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Now strip down, my little girl’s been waiting.”
Izuku’s head swirled.
Touya stood up, shooting the green-haired man a lazy glare before moving to stand by his brothers, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Izuku...” Your sweet little voice called for him, and green eyes snapped to your form on the ground, watched as, with a nod from Enji, you slowly unfurled your body to expose yourself to your lover.
A stab of arousal hit Izuku in his gut, watching your soft-looking skin be revealed.
Pert breasts, a squishy tummy, glistening folds ready and twitching between your legs.
You were drenched.
There was so much shiny slick, all over your thighs and dripped onto the blanket, Izuku couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think straight. It was impossible for you to be that wet on your own, you must have used lube or something to prepa-
It hit him; You and Fuyumi hadn’t gone to prepare dessert.
“You just gonna stand there all night like an idiot? Take your clothes off and fuck her you dwee-”
“Touya.” Enji growled, silencing his son immediately. Then the man turned to Izuku, easily pushing him forwards towards you. “You’ve been accepted into the family; that’s an invitation you don’t want to refuse.”
With a sigh, you easily laid down onto your back, legs still spread for Izuku to look at you, hands coming up to rest shyly over your breasts.
“Don’t do that, let him see.” Shouto murmured, and immediately your hands dropped in obedience. Shouto hummed in approval, before bi-colored eyes swept up to look at Izuku, urging his friend forward with a tilt of his head down to your form.
With trembling hands, Izuku fumbled with his pants, unzipping them with a bit of difficulty, undoing his belt, working on the buttons of his nice shirt the he had worn to make a good impression when he met your family for the first time.
It took him a moment to undress, a red blush creeping up over his cheeks and down to his chest as he bared his body to the Todoroki’s.
He didn’t think he was small, but he wasn’t big either; average. Izuku was confident in his size, didn’t really know or are how he stacked up against other guys, and the girls he’d been with before hadn’t complained.
Still, he felt embarrassed to be naked in front of other people, to be on display. But there wasn’t another option, was there? (Izuku didn’t know if that was such a bad thing)
Two short strides before dropping to his knees in front of you on the blanket, his throat dry and his palms sweaty.
“Are you-” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay with this?”
Your head nodded yes, a pleased, yet shy grin on your face. “Of course. I want you.”
The softness of your voice, of your body, Izuku felt dizzy as he shuffled forward, close enough to touch. Still hesitant, worried about the male Todoroki members watching from the sidelines, brain racing to work through the strangeness of the situation, the utter oddity of this... ritual that was currently taking place.
But then you were sitting up, hands circling around his neck, pressing your lips to his with crushing finality.
He was a part of the family now.
It felt good to kiss you, soft lips pressed together, little huffs of breath from your nose as you kept going. Izuku took the freedom of circling his hands around your waist, almost gasping at the plushness of your flesh, melting against you with a groan as your lips kept pressing to his.
“I’m all ready, just-just put it in.” Your breathless little confession tumbled out as soon as you pulled away from your first real kiss with Izuku, a blush high on your cheeks.
But it was Izuku’s turn to blush, sitting between your legs like a fumbling virgin. “I’m not hard yet, but I can, uhm, finger you. Or we can kiss for a little bit mo-”
“You aren’t even hard? Touya’s sneering voice cut through Izuku’s babbling. “Look at my sister. She’s fucking soaking the ground. That’s not hot to you?”
Izuku stuttered, eyes flickering down to where your legs were opened, pretty little cunt twitching. It’s like you were begging to be touched, and Izuku was a sucker for begging.
“No, that’s so hot, oh my god.” He breathed, fingers instinctively reaching to swipe through your wetness, relishing the way you gasped and shuddered as his hand made contact with your body.
“She’s so soft too, got tits like little pillows. You should lick ‘em, she likes that.” Touya continues, and Izuku wants to point out that the reason he’s not completely hard yet isn’t because he’s not insanely turned on by the beautiful creature in front of him, but because he’s feeling weirded out by all her brothers and her dad watching intently from the sidelines.
Yet he does what Touya suggests, leaning forward to put his mouth on your chest, tongue darting out to drag against your skin.
The eldest Todoroki was right about you being soft.
Izuku can’t stop his other hand from rubbing at your cunt more firmly, feeling your little hips twitch towards him, pressing your chest more firmly into his mouth.
“She’s so pretty.” Natsuo comments, but Izuku is hardly listening when he’s flicking at your clit, nursing at your tits. “She’s gonna feel real good around you Izuku, like a new fleshlight.”
“You better breed her good, boy.” Enji booms, and suddenly you’re scrabbling at Izuku’s arms, pulling his hair, whining “Please, Izuku please.”.
“Okay, shit, let me-”
“He must be really worked up, Izuku hardly ever curses.” Shouto announces, and fuck, he’s right - but how could he not be worked up?
Izuku is hard, blood rushing so quickly to his cock that he feels lightheaded, taking himself in hand and giving his length a few dry pumps. He’s envisioning how sopping wet you’ll feel against him, staring, drooling over your cunt.
And then he’s lining himself up, kissing you hard, and pushing inside.
“Big, ‘s too big!” You panic, tears popping to your eyes but Izuku is quick to wipe them away, cooing at you and stilling his hips.
“Oh, don’t cry! Shh, I’ll go slow, ‘m sorry, I thought you were ready-”
“Natsu-” You cried, hand scrabbling into the ground above your head, reaching, searching for your brother.
“Hey, hey, I’m here.” The man was immediately on his knees by your face, clasping your hand fervently, leaning down to put a sweet kiss on your nose. “Breathe honey, in and out. It’s okay.”
“Noo I-I.... ‘M scared, he’s-he’s-ah!” A stuttered cry broke from your chest as Izuku shifted slightly, inadvertently pushing deeper.
“No, it's gonna be okay. It's just like when we do it, yeah? He's gonna be nice.” And Natsuo is looking at Izuku, fixing him with such a pointed gaze and Izuku gets the message. He’s going to be nice.
It’s not like he wasn’t planning on it - the green haired man loves you.
But then the breath is sucked out of his chest as he comprehends what Natsuo had just comforted you with, that-that.
That you’ve fucked your brother.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Izuku chants, unable to stop his hips from inching back and forth, humnping into you in infinitesimal movements as arousal punches through his gut. “Sorry, I can’t stop-’h my god that’s-”
He can hear Touya cackle. “Damn, something really got him going.”
You were squeezing your eyes shut, clenching Natsuo’s hand so tight that the skin was whitening. Your brother didn’t seem to mind, more occupied with stroking your hair, eyes fixated on the soft jiggle of your breasts as Izuku humped you like a senseless virgin.
His breathing turned into wheezing, hitching when a presence was felt at his back.
“You can do better than that.” Enji’s hands were pressing against Izuku’s naked rear, making the green haired man flinch forward and away from the touch. But Enji merely pushed, propelling Izuku’s thrusts so that he would really fuck the warm, willing body beneath him.
“Izuk-Izu-Izuku-” You moaned, rocking your body to further spear yourself onto his cock, apparently finding the fast glide pleasurable as opposed to your hesitance earlier.
He leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning into the kiss, hands wandering as you pushed to meet each other, Izuku’s stomach clenching tighter and tighter as he neared his release.
“She’s never had someone fuck her raw before...” Shouto mused, eyes glued to the scene in front of him, watching his best friend fuck his sister with the help of his family. “I wonder if it feels different.”
But his words were lost in the quick slap of skin meeting skin, Izuku’s grunts, your sweet little noises as you writhed and clutched at Natsuo’s hand, your other hand holding onto Izuku.
And then Izuku was gone, balls clenching and cock twitching inside you, pulsing as he shot his seed.
Your eyes fluttered shut, pulling your hand away from Natsuo to place it against your tummy, pressing right over where Izuku was still grinding against you. “Feels... feels so warm.”
Izuku was panting, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead, desire slowly swirling out of his body as he came.
What the fuck had he just done?
Enji clapped him once on the back, before rising to his feet. “Welcome to the family, son.”
#dead dove do not eat#tw.dc#tw.dark content#tw.cult stuff#tw.incest#tw.nsfw#Todoroki family#dark Shouto todoroki#dark Enji todoroki#dark Natsuo todoroki#dark Touya todoroki#dark Fuyumi todoroki#dark Izuku midoriya#Yandere todoroki#Yandere shouto#yandere touya#Yandere natsuo#Yandere enji#Yandere fuyumi#Yandere izuku#dark content
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Lucky Catch
Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader
Summary: Being lucky has never been your forte, but a chance encounter with a stranger starts making you think otherwise.
Word Count: 3.0k
Warnings: mentions of being followed/creep behaviour (stay safe!)
A/N: inspired by a scary incident i had a while back (but i’m a-okay) that i thought i could spin into something happier!! i hope you guys like this little tid-bit :)
I must be the unluckiest person in the world, you thought to yourself as you turned another corner on the block.
Above you, the sky had only just begun to turn a pale shade of pretty pink, lavender seeping into the shadows of the clouds. The sun was slowly dipping closer and closer toward the horizon, and with each passing second, the footsteps following you grew a fraction louder—drew a fraction closer. Your heart tightened uncomfortably in your chest, your blood rushing through your ears.
Of all the people who could have been followed by some inevitable creep, you just had to be one of them.
The city was still as loud as ever around you, the streets full of bustling cars driven by tired people making their way home after rush hour just like you. At first, you didn’t believe someone was following you—after all, it wasn’t like you were the only person walking down the street. But the farther you walked, the closer the steps drew, and each time you snuck a glance over your shoulder, you caught the same face peeking back at you through the crowd.
You felt sick.
Your head spun with a million hazy thoughts, your brain just barely managing to piece together a plan with your pounding chest. Should I run home? You chewed on your lip. No, I don’t want them finding out where I live. What would my roommate do? I have my keys on me, but I don’t know if I could throw someone off me. I can try to disappear into the crowd.
You could feel a bead of sweat form on the back of your neck as you picked up the pace, the footsteps behind you following suit. Anxiety lapped at the pit of your stomach, fear crawling up the hollow of your throat and squeezing like a vice.
What do I do?
Up ahead of you, you could see the people filling the sidewalk start to die down a little, and your heart sank. Well, there went that plan.
But just then, a tall figure stepped out into the path a few feet ahead of you, and you felt a pair of eyes lock onto yours. Emerald green bore straight into you, and you blinked.
The man standing in front of you was tall, almost overwhelmingly so, his dirty blond hair gently tousled by the warm, summer breeze. Donning a simple lime hoodie, you watched with rapt attention as his gaze darted behind you, his eyes flashing before meeting yours once more. Although he didn’t utter a single word, it almost felt like he read your mind.
Do you need help?
Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head as subtly as you could, praying that the desperation was clear enough on your face for him to read.
Please.
In an instant, his pursed lips melted into an easygoing smile, and he opened his arms up in front of you. Recognition clicked in your head, and you suddenly began sprinting towards him. Sucking in a deep breath, you felt your heart do a nervous flip as you leapt toward him, your arms outstretched.
In one fell swoop, his arms were wrapped around your torso, catching you in a swift hold before pressing you close to his chest. You sank into his warmth, letting your shoulders go slack. The soft smell of pine filled your senses as you felt him spin your around once, a chuckle rumbling through his chest.
“Hey, there,” he said, and you were shocked by just how kind his voice sounded, “did you miss me?”
Leaning back, you gazed up at him with a look of wonder. God, he really was pretty up close, and you did your best to plaster a smile to your face and nod. “Did I keep you waiting for long?” you managed to warble, playing along the best you could.
The stranger shook his head at you, ducking down to press his lips to your forehead. Heat flooded your chest at the feeling, and your heart swelled.
“Not at all,” he murmured against your skin.
When he pulled back, you watched as his eyes flickered over your shoulder, his fingers still protectively curled around your waist. A moment passed with his hands still pressed against you, and then he let out a breath, his grip loosening.
“They’re gone,” he said simply, and you let yourself practically crumple with relief.
“Oh, thank god,” you breathed, stepping back with a grateful grin. You already felt the weight lifted off your shoulders, but an apologetic smile danced on your lips. “I am so sorry about this. I don’t know when they started following me, and I just didn’t know what to do—“
He sent you a crooked grin, and you felt your stomach churn with butterflies. “Don’t worry about it, really.” His eyes narrowed almost dangerously. “I saw them trailing after you, and I couldn’t just let them follow you home like that.”
Your entire front felt like it was on fire. Even though you were just a stranger to him, he was so kind, and the very thought made your gut erupt with butterflies.
“Thank you so much. You really saved me there…”
You trailed off when you realized you didn’t even know his name. How could it feel so natural to be in the arms of someone whose name you didn’t even know?
“Clay,” he suddenly said, his eyes snapping back to yours. Your soul burned with want. “The name’s Clay.”
You nodded your head, half-feeling like a broken bobblehead. “Thank you, Clay.” You reached your hand out toward him with a lopsided smile. “I definitely did this in the wrong order, but I’m [Y/N].”
The laugh that tumbled from Clay’s lips sounded like straight music to your ears. I could listen to him laugh forever, you thought distantly. Reaching over, he gripped your hand in his, shaking it warmly with a smile. Your fingers wanted to stay wrapped around his forever.
“It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N], and I’m glad I was able to help you out.” His eyes darted down to the watch on his wrist, and he raised a brow at you. “Did you possibly have somewhere you needed to be, by the way? I’d hate to keep you here.”
Your eyes shot wide open. “Oh gosh, my roommate is probably worried sick about me. I promised them I’d be back by now.”
His fingers twitched around yours for a moment, almost like he didn’t want to let go. But then, his hand was dropping away from yours as he sent you a fond, melancholic look. “Try to stay safe on your way back, yeah?”
You nodded, giving him another appreciative look. “I’ll do my best.” Rushing ahead of him, you waved over your shoulder. “Thanks so much, again!”
Clay waved back at you as you darted down the street toward your apartment, but as you tore you eyes away from him, you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink. You had only just opened the front door to your apartment when another realization struck you.
Crap—I should have asked for his number.
Even as your roommate shook you by the shoulders back and forth, concern etched onto her features as she began to interrogate you, all you could think about was the warmth of Clay’s arms circled around you and the tinkling sound of his laughter.
You really were the unluckiest person in the world.
“[Y/N], don’t lose me!”
You can only barely make out the sound of your roommate’s voice as you squeeze your way through the crowd. Why you agreed to come with her to such a busy event, you still don’t know. You hardly even knew what it was the event was about. Something about meeting a popular YouTuber? You could hardly remember, now.
“This is, like, the biggest event in the history of YouTube, ever!” she had yelled at you. “You have to come with me.”
And like the good roommate you were, you had agreed, but mostly just because she told you that there would be free food.
But now, a day and a half later, and there was no food to be seen—especially not the free kind. Instead, all you could see was an ocean of people, and you were absolutely positive you were drowning in them.
I’m hungry, you internally whined. Your stomach growled, and you rubbed your hand over your frontside with a muffled moan. This was a mistake.
Even as your stomach growled, you tried to focus your attention on the situation at hand. Biting back a groan, your fingers squeezed at your stomach—being hungry wasn’t the important part, now. What was important was that you had somehow managed to get pushed ahead of your roommate from within the throng of people packed into the massive atrium.
“At least try to stay with me, will you?” you grunted over the horde of people around you. You narrowly dodged an elbow being pressed into your face, blindly reaching your hand behind you toward where your roommate had been just a moment prior. “I don’t want to have to go looking for you later.”
As soon as your fingertips brushed against warm skin, you quickly latched your hand into the one you had just brushed up against, holding on as tightly as you could manage before tugging. “Follow me—I’m getting us out of here.”
There was no resistance behind you as you began walking forward, pushing your way through the crowd toward what you could only hope was the edge of the room. Why was everybody pushing towards the stage, anyways? Was there supposed to be someone important up there?
With a few more tugs forward and the occasional apology spilling from your lips, you found yourself bursting out from the crowd and into an open space, your shoulders sinking with relief at the lack of people pressing in against you. You grinned as you straightened, squeezing your roommate’s hand in yours. Was her hand always this big and warm?
“We made it,” you breathed, turning. “Can we get something to eat, no—”
The words died in your mouth as you looked up into the emerald green eyes gazing back at you.
Oh no. This wasn’t your roommate.
“Um, hi,” he said, offering you a lopsided smile. “Fancy meeting you here, [Y/N].”
Your eyes felt like they were about to bulge out of your head.
“Clay?” you blurted.
His grin only grew wider. “That’s me.”
Your gaze darted down to your connected hands, his fingers wrapped around yours warmly. Immediately, you stumbled back, looking and feeling like an absolute blubbering mess.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I was here with my roommate, and I thought you were her.” You sheepishly peeled your eyes away from him, your face growing hot with embarrassment. “I swear I don’t do this kind of thing on the regular.”
He barked out a laugh, and your insides felt fuzzy. You didn’t want to admit how much you missed hearing that laugh.
“I was gonna say,” he said, cocking a teasing brow at you, “both of our meetings have been pretty forward of you.”
You buried your face in your hands, letting out an embarrassed whine. “Do not remind me. I can’t believe I got you roped into my shenanigans, again.”
You felt a hand gently pat your shoulder, and you peeked out from between your fingers to see him smiling kindly at you. “It’s no biggie, really. I wouldn’t mind meeting you like this more often, or just in general.”
Your jaw dropped. “Really?”
He nodded. “Really.” Slipping his hand into his pocket, you watched in awe as he fished out his phone and held it out to you. “Here, give me your number. I’d love to take you out sometime.” He glanced up at you, looking almost shy. “Maybe we can even grab a bite to eat after this?”
Your heart skipped a beat. Was he for real? Was someone this handsome and this sweet really asking you out?
It looked like your luck had turned around, for once.
Gingerly taking his phone from his hands, you nodded. “That sounds nice.”
As you began entering your contact information, you felt Clay fidget next to you. “You said you came here with your roommate?” he prompted after a moment.
Your lips quirked. “Yeah—she begged me to come with her today. I kind of forgot who she wanted to see, though.” Your brows knitted together. “I think she said something about a face reveal?”
Next to you, Clay had gone oddly still for a moment, but as soon as you were handing his phone back to him, he brightened, a smile tugging on his lips. “Ah, so she’s a fan and you’re here to accompany her?”
You nodded. “Yep! But I don’t regret coming, since I…” You gulped, your face growing warm once more. “Since I got to see you.”
You could have sworn you caught a dust of pink colouring Clay’s cheeks when all of a sudden, a familiar face popped out from the crowd.
“[Y/N]! There you are!”
Before you could even blink, your roommate was barrelling into your side, her arms clutching tightly onto you. “Where did you go?” she whined into your hair. “I thought I had lost you.”
In front of you, you watched as Clay tried to stifle a laugh, and you gently pried her off your arm as you let out an awkward laugh. “This is what you get for bringing me to such a busy place and not even trying to stick with me.”
She sent you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I just got so caught up in the rush.” Glancing over to her side, she blinked in surprise. “Oh, was I interrupting something?”
You opened your mouth to reply, but Clay spoke first. “Ah, no. I actually have to get going in a second.”
Your face wilted. He had to go?
His eyes met yours once more, and he must have sensed your sadness, because not even a second later, he was gently smiling at you.
“But I promise I’ll text you right after.”
Just like that, and you had brightened again. Waving at you, he slipped toward the side of the stage, opening a door that presumably led somewhere backstage. Oh, you thought, maybe he’s working here for the event.
You were pulled away from your staring by your roommate’s tugging at your arm. “[Y/N], who was that? He‘s cute.”
You felt your stomach twist again, but this time, not out of hunger. “You remember the guy I told you saved me from that creep?”
Her eyes widened. “That was him? You didn’t tell me he was so good-looking!” You laughed at the way her grip on your arm tightened. “Did you give him your number? What’s his name?”
“Yes, actually,” you hummed, puffing your chest up in pride, “and his name’s Clay.” Your head spun with dizzy, pink affection. “He’s really sweet.”
Your roommate fell quiet beside you, her fingers suddenly going slack against you. At her silence, you turned to shoot her a confused look. “Did I say something wrong?”
Her face was pale, her eyes as wide as saucers as she blinked blankly. “Y-You said his name was Clay?” she croaked, sounding like she was forcing the words out.
You raised a brow at her. “Uh, yes? Are you oka—”
You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence when the lights in the atrium suddenly grew dim and the room erupted into screams. A single spotlight shone on the front stage, and you watched a brunet man stepped out from behind the crimson red curtains.
“Thank you for your patience, everyone!” he called into his mic, his British accent echoing loudly through the speakers scattered across the room. “It’s been years in the making, but are you all finally ready to meet the world’s most popular Minecraft content creator face-to-face—to finally see the one and only Dream in the flesh?”
The crowd’s screams grew even louder, and you furrowed your brows. Dream? You felt like you recognized that name, but from where, you didn’t have a clue.
You peeked over at your roommate, who was still as pale as a sheet. You were surprised that she wasn’t screaming her own head off. “Aren’t you excited?” you whispered. “Isn’t this the guy you wanted to see?”
She stood stock still, her eyes still trained on the stage with frozen, unwavering attention.
“I already have,” she whispered, sounding absolutely star-struck.
What?
The man on stage smiled at just how loud the audience had grown, and he stepped to the side. “You all certainly sound excited.” Gesturing to the curtains, he dipped into a dramatic bow. “Then, without further ado, here he is!”
In a flash, the spotlight almost seemed to glow even brighter, and the curtains flew to the side. Out stepped a tall, blond man with the most dazzling grin you’d ever seen.
A grin you’d seen twice, now.
All of a sudden, all the pieces suddenly fell into place as Clay took a step forward, waving at the masses. The screams of the crowd had grown to become absolutely deafening, and despite their overwhelming volume, it felt almost like you could hardly hear them at all.
Oh, you thought, the realization sinking deep into your bones. Oh.
So that was why your roommate was absolutely losing her mind, gaping at the stage with nothing short of pure amazement. That was why Clay had seemed so surprised when you told him you didn’t know who this event was even about.
On the stage, Clay’s emerald eyes swept across the audience before landing on you. He must have caught the surprised look on your face, because a split second later, he was sending you a knowing wink from across the room. Someone in the audience screamed at the sight, and you couldn’t stop yourself from winking back, your heart doing a somersault between your lungs.
Maybe you really were luckier than you thought.
#dreamwastaken#mcyt x reader#mcyt x y/n#mcyt x you#mcyt imagines#mcyt imagine#mcyt fanfic#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt fluff#dream smp x reader#dream smp x y/n#dream smp x you#dsmp x reader#dsmp x y/n#dsmp x you#dreamwastaken x reader#dreamwastaken x you#dream x reader#dream x you#dream x y/n#dreamwastaken imagine#dreamwastaken fanfic#dreamwastaken fluff#dream imagine#dream imagines#mcyt reactions#dream smp imagines#dsmp imagine#dreamwastaken scenario#mcyt scenario
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Many sad thoughts running through my head but I can imagine Dabi having trust issues as you and the other anon saying. Him being afraid of getting left behind. I feel like he would say “I didn’t mean to say I love you” at some point because that’s a type of vulnerable he doesn’t want to be but it’s just one of many thoughts
AHHHHHHHH anon anon why must u hurt me like this?????? pls my whole heart just broke at this and i uhhhhh wrote 1.7k words about it,,,
❅ cw: soft dabi, angst, rly sappy ❅
It seems to happen at the most random of times. It isn’t like the movies, isn’t ever after some profound incident or momentous occurrence shared between the two of you—no, it’s always right after the most mundane things; after he catches you brushing your teeth in a cute matching set of panties and a tank top, sticking out your tongue at him, mouth full of foamy white toothpaste; after he finds you curled up on the couch buried under a fluffy blanket, nothing more than a lump and a head as your eyes rapidly scan the pages of the book in front of you, entirely absorbed in whatever world it’s built for you; after he walks into the kitchen to see you by the sink washing a few dishes, hips swaying and head nodding as you hum along to whatever song is blasting through your headphones.
But God, does it hit him like a motherfucking bus every single time, punches him in the stomach without warning, knocks the breath straight out of him.
He’s usually good at keeping it to himself, usually able to swallow it back down when those three little words begin to creep up his throat, dancing on the back of his tongue and restricting his breathing.
But eventually, he messes up.
You had started it, right after you had finished sprinkling the pizza stone with some flour while he was rolling out the dough, wiping your powdery fingers down his t-shirt, then swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a streak of white flour painted in its path, a little mischievous smile on your face and glint in your eyes.
He retaliates immediately, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it right in your face.
“Dabi!” you gasp, but your shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as you wipe at your face, fingers only managing to leave more strokes of the substance instead of clearing it. Your hand dives into the bag, grasping a handful of flour, inhaling deeply—enough to expand your entire chest—before blowing air out of your mouth, casting tiny, thick explosions of white at him, speckling his shirt and dusting his inky hair.
“Oh, you little brat,”
And, fuck, you look so goddamn beautiful, giggles ringing out around the room, flour strewn in your messy, tousled hair, smears of it across your cheeks and neck, sprinkled on your clothes, eyes bright and breathing laboured with exhilaration as you daintily leap away from him.
They’re bubbling up in his chest, those three stupid little words, climbing up, up, up his throat to settle on his tongue, light and sweet, floating in his mouth like candy floss and melting on his tongue only to be resurrected by another one of your giggles, or playful yelps, or squeals of his name.
And he’s too preoccupied to remember to swallow them down, to chew and chomp on them until he’s crushed them into a thousand tiny pieces as he chases you around the kitchen while you throw clouds of flour at each other, too enraptured by the soft, cute, precious sounds he’s endlessly pulling from you, too hellbent on hearing more, a man possessed.
Because he hasn’t laughed like this in ages, isn’t sure he’s ever laughed like this in his entire life, and they just slip out, when he finally catches you, chest heaving a bit from the thrill of it all as large hands curl around your shoulders.
“God, I love you,”
They’re muttered softly, just a huff of breath, really, blanketed by his laughs and yours, and you nearly miss them.
Nearly.
And then, everything stops. Your laughs abruptly cut off, and he wishes he’d have missed the sharp intake of breath you inhale through your mouth, lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring at him as your body freezes up, going rigid in his grasp, feet fused to the floor.
He stops, too, lets go of you so quickly you’d think your skin burnt his palms through the thin material of your shirt, sapphire eyes growing wide—wider than you’ve ever seen them before—as his mind catches up with his mouth, stumbling a few steps back from you.
He wants to say something, anything, but his voice is caught in his chest, fading into pathetic squeaks of breath any time he tries to force a few words out. And it aches, heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, breathing shallow—almost ceased completely—as he stares unblinking at you, sharp, tingling anxiety flooding his veins.
And you—well, you’re staring at him with this look in your eyes, something that he can’t decipher, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a look he’s never seen before, your eyes shining as you gaze at him, almost glittering as you stare at him, unmoving, unbreathing, unexplainable. Are you upset? Angry? Disgusted? Stunned? A combination of all four? None at all?
The fact that he can’t tell, that he doesn’t know, when he prides himself on being able to read others so insanely well, ignites flames of anger that alight his entire body, right to the tips of his fingers and his toes, blazing straight through the anxiety and simmering in his chest, eyes hardening as they glare back at you.
A beat passes, your ears ringing from the thick, tense silence draped over the room, and then he’s pushing past you roughly with a choked snarl that sounds a little like a mix between a sob and a growl, and storming out of the kitchen.
He’s cut off all communication entirely, has been ignoring you for a few days now, only leaving his bedroom out of absolute necessity and refusing to answer any of your countless texts that have been collecting on his lockscreen, refusing to even touch his phone. He doesn’t want to see what you have to say, desperately tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that he isn’t scared of what your messages might reveal, isn’t terrified of that impending rejection he’s so sure is lurking on the horizon.
But there’s only so long he can keep avoiding you before you finally catch him in the kitchen, just past three in the morning, fixing himself a late-night snack.
“Oh, thank God,”
He whirls around at the sound of your voice, cobalt eyes gaping for a moment before narrowing into sharp slits an instant later.
“Dabi, listen—”
“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “You listen, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”
Leaping in front of him, you block his path, prohibiting him from leaving the kitchen and speaking quickly. “Yeah? Well I do!”
“I don’t care,” he spits viciously, the ache throbbing deep in his chest—at the very core of his body—reminding him otherwise. “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway! It’s not like I meant them,”
And that—that gets you to stop, tripping a little over your own feet as you stumble back like he’s physically slapped you, a soft, hurt little whimper getting caught in the back of your throat as tears rapidly pool in your eyes, blurring your vision.
“Wh-What?”
He glares down at you, molars grinding together as his nose twitches.
I didn’t mean to say I love you.
What a pathetic fucking sentence—it’s almost laughable, the corners of his lips quirking up in a sardonic little grin. Your breath hitches, and his shoulders tense at the sound.
‘You aren’t supposed to know I love you’ is much more accurate, his mind sneers at him. Coward. Fucking coward.
“I didn’t mean it,” he says, though his voice is beginning to quiver, trembling hands curling into tight fists in an effort to stop it, short nails biting into the flesh of his palm as the skin stretched taut over his knuckles turns bone white.
“Didn’t mean what?” you whisper, glistening tears finally spilling over and streaming down your cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of salt water behind them. “Say it, Dabi,”
He’s got his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head, knows if he opens them, if he looks at you, that he’ll break, shatter into a thousand pieces, split himself open at the very core of his body and bare his entire soul to you.
“Look at me,” you demand softly.
His jaw flexes once, slowly exhaling out his nose.
“Dabi, look at me,” a pause. “Please?”
“No.”
“W-Why?” the word escapes your lips in a little whine, broken up by your sniffles.
You know why.
But it’s those little half-sobs, the ones that keep catching painfully in your chest, that do it, interspersed with your soft whimpers as you plead with him—please, open your eyes, just look at me for a second, please!
Unable to stand it any longer, his lids finally rise, slowly revealing sparkling sapphire, glowering at you, his harsh gaze protected by a thin shield of water.
He hates this, hates not having control over his own fucking body, over his own fucking thoughts, hates the unfamiliarity of it all, of the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach and burning in his throat, swallowing thickly past the hard lump that’s formed, constricting his breathing.
Revolting, his inner voice snarls at him. You’re weak, letting some stupid little girl get to you like this, as if you even—
Your touch silences the voice, cutting it off midsentence, his whole body flinching at the soft, small hand resting so tenderly against the curve of his face, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your palm a second later, eyes slipping shut again.
“Dabi,” you begin, and something has changed. You no longer sound hurt, no longer sound wounded, your voice gentle and—
No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to him right now. Panic grips his heart, puncturing it with its claws, sending blistering, sharp pain searing through his chest and slicing him open, raw and vulnerable.
“Please, don’t,” he whispers, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, voice frail, fragile, broken.
Don’t. He doesn’t want to hear them, doesn’t need to hear them, can’t bear to hear them—not if they’re false, fake, uttered out of misplaced pity and sympathy.
“I love you, too,”
A pathetic hiccup gets caught in his throat and he chokes on it, chest stuttering as he shakes his head, lids clenching tightly against the unfamiliar sting of tears, lips pressed together firmly to stifle the tiny distressed sounds that keep crawling up his throat, trying to escape.
There’s no way, she’s lying, how could she ever—
“Yes,” you whisper, thumb caressing his jaw. “I love you, too,”
#dabi x reader#dabi#todoroki touya x reader#todoroki touya#dabi angst#dabi fluff#???? just BARELY#TW SOFT DABI#AHHHHHH anon i am screaming endlessly into the void#sweet anon 🥺#clari gets mail
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Home for the Holidays
summary: you come back home for the holidays and get a very warm welcome.
pairing: stepbro!armin x female!reader
warnings & content: stepcest, fingering, unprotected sex, dom!armin, sub!reader
word Count: 2k-ish
a/n: umm, don't go around fucking your stepbros? i mean i can't stop you but sweet home alabama should play in your head if you do it. also sorry if this feels a bit rushed, i don't even have time to breathe | @mikasascabin @armins-futon
Pop!
Incessant, irritating sounds of gum popping, then smacking against your teeth, the annoying chewing that came out of your mouth, the infuriating tapping of your leg, the exasperating drumming of your fingers against the kitchen table — it's driving Armin insane. It's been driving Armin insane for years. And despite the fact that you're both adults now, you still can't get along. He's smart, quiet and a workaholic, you're a social butterfly who works smart, not hard.
"Armin, Y/N, you're not leaving this kitchen until you solve your conflict and apologise." His mom would say. It used to be your punishment when Armin and you were kids — and it's your punishment even know. You roll your eyes, gum popping all over your face and the tip of the nose. Armin snickers at the disgusted look on your face, mumbling a serves you right under his nose.
Sometimes you wondered if the tension between you and him was sexual. But... it couldn't be, could it? You were his damn stepsister, yet when you came back home for Thanksgiving, Armin was a whole different person. Fresh cut, a change of wardrobe, a better attitude — he was hot, no longer the nerd you used to tease. You study him from across the table after cleaning your face, lower lip between your teeth, head in your hands.
"You heard your mommy, Armin, apologise and let's get this over with."
"Me? You're the one who came home and ruined everything."
"Ruined what? A shitty dinner with a family who doesn't give a fuck about me? No, bro, I improved everything." You lean back in your chair and nonchalantly slam your feet on the table. "Not that you would know what it's like to be in my shoes, anyway."
"Your shoes? What about mine?" Armin slams his fists on the table. "At least no one expects anything from you."
"Wow, thanks." You get up and he realises just how nasty he sounded.
"Wait-"
"Fuck off." You dash past him with tears in your eyes. He was right, your father never expected anything from you, nor did your stepmother. Armin, on the other hand, was a genius, a straight A student and now he even received a scholarship from his university. Of course, people had high expectations from him and in a way, that made you jealous.
'Oh, Armin, we're so proud of you!'
'Armin, you did great!'
'Did you know Armin won an international maths competition?'
You shut the door to your room and crawl under your blanket. You always tried your best, but you could never compete with him. And your father, your ownfather, sometimes seemed to love Armin more than you. Minutes pass before you hear your stepmother rushing with your father to go visit some of your relatives and you hope Armin would go with them, but you're unlucky today. Once the car leaves the driveway, a soft knock makes you snap your neck up.
"Go away."
"Y/N, please, I didn't mean to say that."
"I don't care!" You throw a book at the door but Armin still won't budge.
"Open the damn door!"
"Why, so you can brag about how you're the perfect child?"
"So I can apologise, you... you bitch!"
Silence. Your ears ring with the word and Armin knows he fucked up big time. In a flash, the door is open and you're ready to kick him in the shin but for some reason, when you see his face, you stop.
"Apologise, then, and apologise for calling me a bitch, you little shit!"
"God, why do you hate me so much? You tormented me ever since you moved in with us!"
"Well, genius, has it ever occurred to you that maybe I never wanted this?"
"Of course it has! But you're always so cold and all I wanted was to talk to you. I don't even know your favourite colour and you're supposed to be my sister!" His voice is soft and sorrowful and you fold your arms across your chest.
"I don't want to be your sister."
"Then what do you want? You're always bitch but when I bring a girl over, you're suddenly overprotective."
"You do the exact same thing, dumbass! Every time! You act like a sad puppy but the moment you hear I'm going out with a guy you turn into some alpha male." You frown and grab the door handle. "This conversation is over."
"No, it's not." He puts his foot in the door and you narrow your eyes at his low voice and different demeanour.
"Yes, it is. Go do some studying for uni." You try to close the door but suddenly he's so much stronger. Has he been working out?
"You think this is all I do? Work and study? You think I'm some kind of teacher's pet who doesn't break rules?" You don't even realise when he's in your room, hands on your shoulders and his face so close to yours. "You think I'm an angel? A saint?" The words drip from his tongue with so much venom and your body softens. This is so unlike him but you can't help but be intrigued.
"Armin, please-"
"Oh, I'm Armin now? Not some shitty nickname? What’s the matter, can’t come up with a clever insult?" His thumb grazes over your cheek and you feel the hairs on your arms stand up. You like this side of Armin, and the fact that for three years you were his stepsister went down the drain. "I tried to be good, Y/N, I tried to be nice. But you don't like nice, do you?"
You shake your head with lidded eyes, drinking his touch, but a sharp pain from a slap wakes you up from your thoughts.
"Talk."
"N-no, I don't like nice!"
"It's unbelievable what a good girl you are when I press the right buttons."
You know it now, why you've always acted this way with Armin — you don't want him to see you as his stepsister, not even as his friend — you want to be his lover. In his ocean blue eyes, you can see that he wants the same thing — they are filled with lust and desire. You don't want to speak, afraid you might ruin this moment, but at the same time you have questions to ask and answers to get. Armin catches your mind drifting elsewhere and another slap across your already stinging cheek brings your full attention to him.
"I know what you like, Y/N. You fucked enough of my friends for me to know exactly what you want."
"Excuse me? You talk to your friends about how your sister fucks them?"
"Stepsister." He corrects you, his fingers tangled in your locks. "What would our parents say if they found out what a filthy slut you are?"
"I-" You want to say something, come up with a snarky remark, but the words die in your throat and your brain turns to mush. Armin leans closer, his hot breath tickling your ear.
"I bet I can fuck you better than any of them." He whispers and just then you feel your aching cunt begging to be filled with his cock.
"Armin..." You try again, but you still don't know if you want him to stop or carry on. It all feels so wrong but so right at the same time.
"Tell me what you want, Y/N." He nibbles on your earlobe, goosebumps dotting your skin.
"I don-" You choke on your words when you feel his hand slither under your shirt, fingers playing with your nipple.
"Come on, talk." Armin is now gently kissing the crook of your neck and your knees almost give in. Truthfully, no man ever made you feel so weak, so needy.
"Please, I want you!" You tried to whisper but it came out as a desperate cry.
"That's not good enough." He pinches your sensitive bud and you yelp, back hitting the door.
"I want you to f-fuck me, please, Armin! Fuck me good!"
"Much better." He presses his lips onto yours and he can taste the bubblegum you so annoyingly chewed when you let his tongue part open your mouth.
You don't have a clue when your clothes disappeared, scattered on the floor, along with your and his underwear, and frankly you don’t even care. Armin has you down on all fours on the mattress, two fingers pumping into your sweet cunt as you pathetically moan his name.
"Look at you! Such a filthy whore, all wet for your stepbro."
"Oh, God- want you inside-"
"I know, princess. Be patient." He curls his fingers in ways you didn't think were possible, but then you feel his tongue lazily dragging up and down your slit and you let yourself fall on the bed, face down, ass up. You had guys go down on you before, but the way Armin did it was incredible. He was meticulous, attentive, careful to let you know exactlywho owned your cunt. When he feels your thighs shake, he pulls away, earning a dissatisfied sigh of protest from you as you jolt back up.
"No, no. You're not coming yet." He yanks you by the hair, fingers gripping your chin and turning your head to the side. Armin presses his body against yours, and you feel his throbbing cock resting on your ass as he eagerly kisses you. "You taste good, don't you?"
You nod back, unable to form a coherent sentence, all you could do was push your ass against him, yearning to be filled.
"Armin, please, I need to feel you. Please!"
"Shit, I didn't think you'd be so fucking needy. Do you think you deserve it?"
"Yes, yes! I promise I'll be good from now on! Please!"
"You better keep your promise, Y/N." He growls, pushing you back on the mattress, the glistening tip of his cock positioned at your entrance. “Otherwise, I’ll have to punish you.” Inch by inch, he bottoms out and you throw your head back, spongy walls clenching around his cock. Thick and long, Armin was by far the biggest man you've been with, and you really didn't expect this. Yet when he started pounding into your cunt, you didn't regret coming home for the holidays.
"H-harder!" You beg him and you can feel his shit-eating grin burning into your back because he is the one making you feel this way, and he knows that after tonight, you'll always come crawling to him. Armin didn't waste any time, his thrusts became harsher and deeper, cock sliding in and out of you making your head fuzzy.
"You're so tight, so wet. Bet you don't get this wet for others."
"I don't! Oh, fuuuck, right there!"
Beads of sweat form on his forehead, fingers digging into your flesh as you buck your hips against his. It's been a while since he fucked you, your whimpers echoing in the bedroom, his name rolling down your tongue perfectly. You’re made for him. But all good things come to an end, and shortly you felt the need for release, thighs quaking and pleasure flushing through your entire body. Armin is close, too, but Armin also wants to humiliate you and remind you where your place is. He pulls out, cock in one hand, locks of your hair in his other.
"Promise you'll be good?"
"Promise!" You look at him with glossy eyes.
"Close your eyes." The man demands and you obey, hot strings of his seed spilling onto your face, and you lick your lips to taste him. Sinful, yet divine. Right, yet wrong. "Get yourself cleaned up."
You sit on the couch, legs on Armin's lap when your father and stepmother come back home. You can't even focus on the movie, all you can think about is your stepbrother's cock stretching you out and filling you good.
"Huh, I've never seen you two getting along this well." Your father comments. "Look at them, finally behaving like proper siblings."
"Took you long enough!" Armin's mother smiles. "What did you do?"
"We talked." Armin replies with his usual joyful voice but you know better than that. You know exactly the kind of person he is behind closed doors.
"Well, at least now we're finally a happy family." His mother pats you on the shoulder.
"Yeah," you grin, "one biiiiig, happy family."
#armin arlert#armin arlert x reader#armin arlert x you#armin arlert x y/n#armin arlert smut#armin x reader#armin x you#armin x y/n#aot#aot x reader#aot x you#aot x y/n#attack on titan#snk#snk x reader#snk x you#snk x y/n#snk smut#shingeki no kyoujin#female reader#tw. stepcest
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Hue and Cry VII
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mentions of previous forced oral, abuse of power, these men ain't shit.
This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: You face a reckoning for evading your lord.
Note: This wasn't planned but things just turned out this way because my go to is fuck the reader. Oop.
Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
The nights only got harder. It didn't matter if Lord Barnes wanted to touch you or wanted you to touch him, even just laying beside him was torment. You hated what he'd done to you and what he'd made you do. You hated yourself more for how he made you feel.
You decided that day in the carriage during the rainstorm that you hated him. You hated Lord Barnes more than even Lord Rogers. At least the latter was honest in his lechery, he did not try to veil his true desires but Barnes spoke to you sweetly as he forced his needs upon you.
The night before you were due to reach the capital, you did not sleep. You couldn't in the bed next to Barnes. He wanted to be astride as he entered the city and so you were left to ride alone in the carriage. The sway soon had you across the bench in a deep slumber. It was the best sleep you had in weeks.
You only woke as a hammering came at the door and streaks of sunlight were let in as it opened. A footman called you out and helped you down the step into the dirt. You batted your sleepy eyes and marveled at the castle as it came clear. It was getting colder as the autumn wore on, bitter. It was the wrong season for a tournament.
As you trod through the beaten yard of the castle, Lord Barnes clapped off his right hand, the leather glove dusting, and approached you. He’s gaze strayed to Lord Rogers for a moment then back to you. He dropped his shoulders and scrunched his lips.
“I have an audience with the king,” he said glumly, “as much as I’d prefer you attend with me it has been brought to my attention that… the court might not be as accommodating to you as I am. Regardless, I might have a seat arranged for you at the feast and you were surely sit in the rows for the sparring.”
“I… my lord, I am only--”
“I told you,” he interjected, “you are not a maid anymore.”
You held your tongue as you wanted to spit at him. What were you? A courtesan? A whore? Was that better than emptying his pot? You dipped your head and pulled your cape snug, “my lord.”
“See her to my rooms,” Barnes directed the footman at your shoulder, “once the chests are unpacked, she is to be undisturbed. My guard will have the same orders.”
“Yes, my lord,” the footman bowed, “my lady.”
You looked at the footman and slowly followed him away from Barnes. You were eager to be away from him but not eager to be shown your new prison. You entered the castle and followed the torchlit corridors beside the footman.
“I’m not a lady,” you said at last, “I don’t want you to ever call me that again.”
“My apologies, my--” he stuttered, “the lord bid it.”
“He lies to himself and you,” you muttered, “I was born as you, likely lower. My own mother was a laundress and my father a stablehand. Cut from the finest, I am.”
The footman was quiet as he waved you ahead of him up the coiling stairwell. You regretted your harsh words but knew they could never be delivered to their true target. When you reached the chamber designated to your master, you stopped outside. Lester was already at his station by the lord’s doors.
“I am sorry,” you told the footman, “I was unkind. You do not deserve that.”
His lips curved slightly and he hid his amusement, “I know now you are like me,” he said softly, “the nobles, they don’t apologise.”
You chuckled darkly and left him. You passed the servants as they carried in trunks and opened them in a flurry of duty. You went to the bedroom and climbed up on the large feather mattress. That time you had to yourself, even surrounded by the chaos of your arrival, was a relief. You did not know how long you’d get away from Barnes.
🏰
You fell asleep again. This time, you weren’t floating in your dreams, driven wildly by the tides, but you were still, straight as a board in the ground as dirty sprinkled onto you. The cold earth warmed as the layers piled on you. Deeper, deeper, deeper until you couldn’t breathe.
You woke with a start and nearly screamed as a shadow loomed over you. Barnes sat beside you, his legs over the edge of the couch. He played with the lifeless fingers of his artificial hand. Your hood was on the pillow, crumpled and the folds of your dress were bunched awkwardly beneath your body.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he murmured, “just wanted to sit with you.”
“How long--”
“It is almost time for supper,” he said, “but the feast is not until the morrow. You might remain and rest some more.”
You didn’t move, just looked up at the canopy and laid there. You didn’t say anything more as you folded your arms over the stiff bodice.
“You should sleep… the journey was long. Tiring,” he continued.
You just blinked but didn’t close your eyes. The canopy was a rich green marked with gold. The stitches were woven in the shape of leaves and vines. You thought of the forest and those days you were so scared. You were much more terrified now.
“I wanted to say, and I should now since you are awake,” he began as he leaned on his elbow and his other arm fell limp and heavy, “what occurred with Rogers will not arise again. I made him a promise I regret and it was sorted.”
You held back a shudder as you thought of the salty tasted and the pungent scent of their arousal. You swallowed and hugged yourself tighter.
“If he attempts to reenact the scene, or more, you will inform me, and you have my leave to see that he does not,” Barnes said sternly, “you are still mine. I would not have you confused.”
You rolled onto your side so that your back was to him. He huffed and his hand fell onto your side. He squeezed and the bed shifted. He said your name and every muscle in your body went taut.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
“I’m tired,” you said.
“I want no mistake. You--”
“I belong to you,” you sneered, “you want to use me, you want to own me, you want me to tell you I know I am nothing but the dirt beneath your boot. Let me assure you I am aware--”
“Do not speak to me as such,” he hissed.
You bit back your voice and heaved. You sucked in your cheeks and wriggled away from his reach. “It is understood, my lord. Now as you bid, I would sleep.”
🏰
The only grace allowed you at the feast, rather denied you, was a seat with your lord. As much as Barnes would prefer to have you close he was still bound by the expectations of court. He didn't let on that you were merely a servant but you didn't think anyone could believe otherwise. For his vouching, you were sat among the lower lords and ladies.
You watched as wine was poured for you. You eyed the girl who kept her chin down as the filled the cups and thought of your own time in a similar duty. What did Barnes find so fascinating about you? You had only done what dozens others had done for him before. You couldn't figure you had an outstanding feature or manner that could explain his interest, it could only be your own poor luck.
You ate without tasting, without zeal, slowly as you brought fork to lip and dissolved into the chatter of strangers around you. All those seated at the long tables had a partner or some family with them. You were alone. Your parents were dead and all those you'd ever had a kindred tie to were far away.
"Uncle," a voice perked up across from you and drew your attention as you chewed the spiced rabbit meat, "if I made the lists, surely I can win!"
"My coin got you on those lists," the older man replied, "it is all formality. Should you gace a king or a duke, you would be remiss to claim victory."
"I am to lay down for their title?" The younger scoffed, "I am a man now and I have trained--"
"But you think like a boy," the other rebuked, "a runner up can take a fine purse still and if you feed the ego of a high borne man he will be more willing to show you favour."
You lowered your fork and looked at the two men as they argued. The elder`s hair was sprinkled with grey but the rest the same shade of reddish brown as the youth. You were heartened by their familial banter but saddened at your own solace. You dropped your hands to your lap and looked at your plate.
"Dear," the woman beside you touched your sleeve, "are you well?"
You turned to her startled and nodded. "Yes, my lady," you cleared your throat, "fine indeed."
She peered past you then shared a look with the older man across the table. She was not so grey as him. She smiled and withdrew her hand. "You are alone?"
"Only me, my lady," you answered.
"And overly polite," she chuckled, "a pity. A young girl sent to court without escort. What family could do such a thing? You must be frightened out of your wits."
"I will… persevere," you said.
"Ay but it is the nature of these events to be cordial. I am May Parker, my husband is a baron," she gestured to the older man across from you, "Benjamin, and my nephew, Peter, a viscount in his beloved father's stead," she smiled at the younger man, "and your name?"
You hadn't been told what to say in the circumstance. You hadn't thought of it and surely Barnes hadn't either. You would have to garnish the truth with enough lies to get by. You twined your fingers together. You offered your name, your truth, then conjured your lies as you spoke.
"My father is, er, was, a baron as well," you said, "I am his only child."
"Oh, you sweet thing, if you would be alone for this tournament, you might stay near to us. My nephew hasn't many peers of his age just yet, and my husband is much too weary to keep up with him."
You glanced around, the two men bowed their heads in greeting. You attempted a smile and thanked her.
"Our Peter will be competing in the joust and in the sword contest," she announced, "we did urge him to enter the bow and arrow but he finds it dull."
"Oh," you were uncertain how to address these people, to speak as if you were their equal, "I've never attended a tourney before."
"Best you stay close then," she squeezed your hand gently, "why look at all these people! Even that Duke from the north came, bless him, that one who did lose his arm in the campaigns."
You reached for your wine to hide your discomfort at the mention of him. All you had to do was pretend for the evening and you'd likely not see these people again. As friendly as they were, you couldn't stand to make friends only to lose them.
You listened for the rest of the courses as May and her family did much of the talking. There were moments you forgot your predicament, even that you were born a peasant, but when it returned to you, the food turned to a lump in your stomach and your heart clamoured.
You were roused from the waking dream only as the music plucked up and the plates were cleared by your own ilk. May chuckled and stood as her husband came around to her. She paused as the bodies flooded from the benches onto the boards. She touched your shoulder kindly, "if you would be in want of a partner, our Peter is rather graceful."
You looked to the younger Parker and he lit up. "Only if you like, miss."
"I… would say I am not so," you said evasively.
"It would not bother me, I trained with the old hound that slept in our barn, he slobbered quite heavily," he laughed, "but I would be indebted should you allow me the treat of a true partner."
"I suppose…" you looked to the high table where Barnes scowled at Lord Rogers, entirely unconcerned with you for the first time in a while. Perhaps this was a chance; lose yourself in the crowd and you might find the opening you needed. Or perhaps merely a respite from him at least, "I do warn you however, I would not know where to place my feet."
May and Benjamin swept away as Peter came around to you. He offered his arm and you mimicked the other ladies as you took it.
He lifted his shoulders proudly as he led you to the floor, "only step around my own and I will do my best not to trod on your slippers, lady." He turned you in time with the music, your arms hooked so that you faced in opposing direction, "follow me and do not worry so much. No one is watching us so closely."
You smiled, a real smile that time as the strings and flutes filled your chest. As this kind stranger patiently guided you around the boards. You raised your chin as you did your best to stay on the beat but nearly tripped as your eyes met another pair.
Lord Barnes glared down at you from the high table, the only lord remaining in his seat, and his hand gripped the stem of his goblet tightly. Even at the distance, you felt his chagrin. And as he stood, your sole met Peter's toe but he only snickered and righted you.
"You're doing fine, lady," he assured as he spun and switched arms, you let him lead you dumbly as you watched Barnes descend from the dais, "a natural."
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#dark!bucky barnes#fic#hue and cry#dark fic#dark!fic#series#untagged character haha#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#medieval au#medieval!au#au#marvel#mcu#captain america#winter soldier
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the bet
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Word count: 15k
Genre: smut, comedy, university AU
Summary: You lost a bet and now it’s time to face the consequences. Aka when you lose and now you have to get a tattoo.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140211
I'm reposting this one in case it's more comfortable for the readers to use tumblr instead of AO3 :)
“I can’t believe they made me do it,” you murmured under your nose as you passed the street, knowing that your friends still sat in the car parked in the lot across the street with eyes pinned on your nervous figure. The closer you got to the two-story building, the stronger the crippling anxiety inside of you grew, causing your inners to shake under the heavy consequences of your Thursday night’s escapade that culminated into your worst nightmare.
Yes, everything started two nights ago in a shabby university bar that you grew so fond of during the past two years of your studies. It was always packed whether it was a school night or not, full of freshmen and also seniors, from time to time even postgraduate students that seemed to be only a myth to you as you’ve almost never met one outside the classes. However, neither of that mattered that night as you successfully finished your last exam and decided to hit the streets with your two best friends that carefully prepared the night to its tiniest details. Conspiracy was the first word that popped in your mind as the night continued to unfold her secrets, although it was quickly erased with the fifth shot of tequila after which you simply found yourself walking straight to the bar with one and only thing your friends managed to set your mind on.
The hot bartender, also a member of mythical postgraduate group, was your main target even though he was currently busy with lining the glasses of RedBull next to each other while smaller shot cups full of golden liquid, you somewhere in the back of your mind recalled was probably Jägermeister, balanced on the tips of the bigger glasses under. Each of his move was precise, yet you knew this wasn’t the first Jäger-train he had built. The man worked at this bar ever since you could remember - and you also recalled the moment he stepped into your first class of Forensic psychology, looking completely different than you saw him the previous night (which was your first time visiting the bar when you were a freshman) in the club. Just then one of your friends told you he was a postgraduate student who worked at the bar and also taught some classes because of his final research paper. And now he was here again, his longish black hair carefully slicked back, exposing the undercut that made him look like a bad boy. His eyes momentarily flickered up from his work and once they laid on you, smirk flashed through his features and he straightened his posture, done with what he was doing.
“Look who we have here on a school night. Isn’t it a little bit too late for you to be out, ___?” he tilted his head to the side, never allowing the smile to disappear from his handsome features. He was famous for many things, but the nickname he used really preceded his name - Worldwide Handsome.
“Kim Seokjin, nice and friendly as always. Not that it should concern you, but I’m successfully done with all of my exams; so tonight, I’m celebrating. And I’m also on mission,” you leaned closer to him, almost knocking the train made of multiple glasses of alcohol, however you couldn’t care less. There was only one thing on your mind - and you know your friends were watching you somewhere from the booth in the back of the bar. At least they tried because your mind wasn’t the only one clouded by alcohol and a stupid bet you nodded to extremely fast and without giving it a thought or two first.
“So, mission it is tonight. Anyway, congratulations to wrapping up the term. Now, is there something I can do for you? Because, as you can see, it’s Thursday night, and the place is already bursting. Also, my masterpiece is ready for the show,” he said, reaching for the empty shot cup, ready to put the train on move. Your eyes flickered from his to the said masterpiece and you chuckled. Of course, there was something he could do for you but you didn’t want to burst it out loud just like that, not when the place was crowded and you felt countless eyes pinned on you because you occupied the spot by the bar for longer than acceptable.
But then again, you were on the mission and that was more important than some impatient freshmen that expected to put their hands on one of the glasses of Jägerbomb Seokjin has just put on the move. He gently nudged the first shot sitting on the rim of the glass and watched with his eyes full of excitement how the following shot cups fell down like a domino. People around you cheered loudly and suddenly they started grabbing glasses one after another until there was just one left. In a moment you decided to snatch it for yourself, your fingers met with another long and slender ones, covered in black ink and shiny silver rings. Looking up, you realized the crowd of people was gone, scattered all over the place and dance floor while only a few people remained lingering around the bar area. And the man, who was about to steal the drink you set your eyes on, was now staring at you with a smirk that mirrored in his deep and dark eyes. Long strands of his wavy blonde hair fell into his face but he quickly pushed them back, yet he took an advantage of the moment of surprise and snatched the drink before you had enough time to say something.
“Too late, love,” he shrugged and quickly disappeared in the crowd of people, only his blonde hair shining like a beacon, eventually disappearing as well. You turned to Seokjin with lips formed in a shape of a small ‘o’, still processing what has just happened. The bartender smirked and started lining another train of glasses on the surface of the bar, this time with a different type of drink on his mind.
“What was that? Who was that guy?” you asked, momentarily confused but you quickly shook it off your shoulders like an invisible layer of dust. You had to succeed with your mission, some blonde guy stealing the drink you wanted for yourself was out of the question at the moment.
“That was Jeon Jungkook, no one you should care about. Now, what can I offer you, ___? Or are you going to just levitate around until you are brave enough to spill the tea? Because one of your friends is peeking from the booth like a chicken hidden in the bush. What is it that you want?” with those words, he leaned closer over the bar surface and you felt his hot breath hitting your face. And even though your senses were already covered by the heavy sheet made out of tequila and god knew what else, you still felt cigarettes and scotch in his breath, the favorite combination of his when he was working.
You chewed on your lower lip while the wheels in the back of your mind spun like crazy, contemplating whether to come out with your plan or just kept playing your little game of a spy on the mission - even though Kim Seokjin could see straight through you as if you were a thin piece of a transparent paper. So, with a heavy sigh, you smashed your palms against the bar in a dramatic gesture, looking him straight into his eyes. If someone was looking at you, and you were sure there was at least one person watching you besides your friends, they must have thought you were some kind of Seokjin’s crazy fangirl. Which wouldn’t be surprising since the man was quite famous at the university.
“I need Jimin’s number.”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m serious, Seokjin. I need Jimin’s number otherwise I’m in a very big trouble. You have to save my ass,” you basically begged him, now almost laying on the bar as you leaned closer to him. The black-haired bartender only shook his head no and gave you a look somewhere between ‘I like you, you are my friend, but I can’t help you’ and ‘someone please just kill me already before I strangle this girl first’.
“I’m sorry but if you want Jimin number, you have to ask yourself. And since I know the number is not for you, you should tell your friend to man the hell up and ask him herself. He doesn’t bite, you know. Well, at least I think he doesn’t,” he shook his head again and handed you a shot of tequila he managed to pour you while he was talking. Small pout formed on your lips and you tried really hard to pull out the most innocent look on your face, but such a witchcraft had none effect on Kim Seokjin.
“You don’t understand - I promised my friend I would get the number for her. We placed a bet and if I lose… Seokjin, I can’t lose! Of my fucking god, I can’t lose this one. That would be the end of me.”
Something in his face shifted and now he looked genuinely interested in your little mission. A tiny spark of hope lit up in your chest when his eyes softened and he turned to you again.
“What’s the bet about?”
You felt the heat creeping into your cheeks each second of standing by the bar, your eyes now pinned on your hands still placed on its surface. The shot laid untouched in front of you even though you felt your mouth watering just by watching it. And although the level of alcohol in your bloodstream was already dangerously high, you reached out for it and downed the shot in one gulp. Just in case you needed some more courage.
“If I don’t get Jimin’s number tonight, I will have to get a tattoo by the end of the week. So, please, you have to save my ass, Seokjin. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want that tattoo, I’ve wanted it for some time already, but I’m still not sure and—“
“You got to be kidding me, ___. This is the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard,” the almost caring look in his face was quickly replaced by his notorious smug smirk and you knew you were fucked for the night. There was no way he was about to give you Jimin’s number, and walking around the bar, asking random strangers for Park Jimin’s number was out of question.
“I will never forget your betrayal, Kim Seokjin. I will never forget how you turned your back on me. And if you come to me asking for help, I will repay you the same,” your index finger touched his chest and while you were sure you looked dangerous and almost and vengeful, Seokjin just chuckled and sent you one of his precious flying kisses.
“Duly noted, sweetheart. Don’t forget to send me a photo of your new tattoo. I will be waiting.”
And just like that, with his words still echoing through your mind, you showed him your tongue and waltzed back to the table where your friends were sitting.
Of course, without Park Jimin’s number.
And the threat of getting a tattoo dangerously hanging above your head.
“I can’t believe they made me do it.”
It was Saturday morning and the betrayal of Kim Seokjin and the following cheering sounds of your friends still rang through your mind like an annoying sound of the alarm clock set on the phone. You weren’t about to get away with new pledges and promises of getting Park Jimin’s number because your friends simply weren’t about to let you. No, a deal was a deal and now that you lost the bet, you had to get that tattoo from the artist in a parlor downtown. It was a new one and judging by what Sunmi told you a few days ago, they only opened the salon three months ago. However, the number of followers on social network sites grew higher and higher each day so you and your friends agreed it was a good place to get your first tattoo.
Although you weren’t so sure now that you were crossing the street with a paper cup of coffee in your hands. It was an olive branch from your friends when they picked you up at the dorms early in the morning, proposing the breakfast at your favorite café near the university’s main campus. At least something to ease your mind before taking such a huge step forward.
You took a deep breath and looked over your shoulder one last time, checking if those two creatures that came straight from the hell still sat in the car parked in the lot. And of course, they were still there, sending you thumbs up as if to give you a courage to step inside and get that goddamn tattoo. Thinking about that, it was all your fault because you were talking about getting one for a while, so it was only natural your friends took advantage of your big mouth and used it as a weapon against you. Although, you had to admit the smoothness they turned the bet into.
“Why am I even friends with you?” you muttered under your nose and took a sip of the coffee before you reached for the doorknob and pressed it, opening the door with a sound of ring bell accompanying your gesture. You peeked inside - and your inners immediately turned upside down with the scene that unfolded in front of your eyes. Not to mention you almost dropped the paper cup with coffee.
The studio itself looked neat and clean, shiny almost as each piece of furniture and accessory seemed brand new. Right opposite the front door sat a massive black desk with an office chair and a laptop placed on the top. But besides the PC, there was a small plant and an opened sketchbook with a picture you couldn’t see properly because you stood too far away. Not that you wanted to peek inside, not really. The wall behind the table was pitch black with a few modern art pieces and shelves full of books standing there. The remaining three walls were covered in various pieces of paper showing different tattoo motives that were apparently free for customers to choose. But that wasn’t what knocked the air out of your lungs and almost made you change your decision with backing the hell out of the studio, no. What made you almost squeal were two men half hidden behind the paravan that covered the tattooing area from the common area with two black leather sofas and a small coffee table. Even though you couldn’t see their faces properly, you exactly knew who they were. And the fact that one of them was indirectly responsible for you getting in this quite unfortunate situation made your blood boil.
“Park Jimin?”
Both of them immediately snapped in your direction while the said man rolled down his shirt and patted the blonde’s shoulder with a grateful smile curling the corners of his lips up. The blonde one only nodded but once his eyes met yours, there was something wicked mirroring behind his irises - and you were quickly reminded of the Thursday’s night and the talk you had with Seokjin after he successfully made the Jäger-train work. The blonde man was the one who stole your drink. The one who ever so shamelessly snatched it right out of your hands and walked away as if nothing had happened. You clearly remembered the wave of drunken rage that almost swept you off your feet the night it happened - the drink was supposed to be yours, not his. Either way, that fact only added to the moment of surprise you went through the second you realized the tattoo artist was no one else but the blonde thief with arms covered in ink.
“Oh, hi? You are the one from Seokjin’s Forensic Psychology class, right? ___? What are you doing here?” Jimin asked and at that moment, you felt like the dumbest dumbass walking the planet earth. What were you doing here? Oh, yes. The lost bet and the punishment you had to accept according to the terms of the deal. However, that wasn’t something you could come clean about since it would make you look like an… idiot. Complete idiot. So, instead of giving him an answer, your eyes flickered to the direction of the blonde tattoo artists who was now in the process of getting rid of the black latex gloves, throwing them into a trash bin. And as if he felt the weight of your eyes heaving him down, he looked at you with a slight hint of smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. He too seemed to be interested in your answer.
“Yep, that’s me. And to answer your question - I’m here to get a tattoo. I guess that’s what tattoo salons are for?” you tilted your head to the side and gave both males your best smile without being nervous about it.
“Do you have an appointment?” the blonde asked and approached the table where the sketchbook and other notebooks laid. As soon as his question sunk in the air filling the room, you cleared your throat and realized that, perhaps, you should have called beforehand, although this whole situation came into an existence during your Thursday night’s pre-game when you were already intoxicated and so determined to get Jimin’s number no matter what consequences might come out in case you simply failed.
Exactly like you did.
And it brought you here.
Silence fell over the room and for a split second, your brain came up with an idea of asking Jimin for his number and immediately backing away from the previous plan, but then, on the other hand, you weren’t about to chicken out of your punishment. You were too proud to do so.
“No, I don’t think so,” you smiled again, wishing for the mother earth to swallow you and spit you out on the other side of the world since the weight of the look in their eyes grew heavier and heavier each second that passed. They must have thought you were an idiot waltzing into a tattoo salon without an appointment on Saturday morning. Because who would have done that? No one but a psychology student who lost the bet and was now facing its consequences.
“Well, then I guess I will just leave you two alone. Lucky you, Jungkook was supposed to have a day off since it’s Saturday, but as I know him, he wouldn’t say no to a nice young lady, would he?” Jimin smirked and before Jungkook had the opportunity to throw the notebook in his direction, the brown-haired guy grabbed his jacket and disappeared from the salon at the speed of light.
And that made you feel bit anxious because right at the moment, it was just you and the tattoo artist Jungkook who managed to steal your drink, which, for some reason, couldn’t let you cold. The small and tiny voice in the back of your mind told you he must have been a member of the mythical postgraduate students’ group as well, but you weren’t stupid to voice your question out loud. You were just frozen in one place with lips forming a shape of a small ‘o’, unable to put together a rather coherent sentence to explain how you got into such a situation. Not that he should know each detail, but then again, he was the artist and according to Jimin’s words, he was supposed to have a day off until you came, and, well, obviously changed his plans.
Again, according to Jimin’s words.
“If you have a day off, I can come another time. Or I can book an appointment and—“
“It’s ____, right? I’m Jeon Jungkook, nice to meet you. Anyway, it’s fine. Jimin wasn’t on my list either when he came banging on the door early in the morning. One more tattoo wouldn’t kill me, really. I don’t have much to do, anyway,” his voice dropped a few tones lower and it genuinely surprised you how quickly he agreed on something that wasn’t on his schedule, therefore wasn’t supposed to happen. Honestly, you expected him to throw you out of the salon with the same sassy smirk and comment he addressed you with the night you met him at the bar. But nothing like that happened and you suddenly felt the inner storm gaining the momentum, throwing you off balance easily. And maybe, that was the reason you kept standing in one spot with lips still half-parted, staring at the young man standing in front of you with a smile plastered over his features. The smile first seemed to be innocent, reaching his eyes but mirroring something not so innocent any longer as the question slipped his lips. “Did you have fun with your friends?”
Wheezing noise came out of you and he raised his brows in unspoken question.
“I’d rather not talk about that night, really,” you rolled your eyes and bit on your inner cheek as the memory of the night came to you as a wrecking ball.
“Had too much to drink? You should be glad I managed to put my hands on the drink before you did then,” his innocent smile quickly turned into a smug one, reminding you of the way Seokjin basically laughed in your face when he found out about the bet. And since the bartender seemed to be familiar with the blonde tattoo artists, there was this one certain question that popped on your mind like a red light. Was it possible Seokjin told Jungkook about the bet? Did he out you?
No, Seokjin wouldn’t do that. He might have not helped you with getting Jimin’s number, but he certainly wouldn’t do something like blabbering about the bet to his friends who had nothing to do with that. Until now.
“About that - it was my drink, I had my eyes on that first,” you murmured but couldn’t help when the smile tugged on the corner of your lips. Fighting about something so trivial like a drink wasn’t really your thing, yet, for some reason you felt like this business needed to be taken care of.
“Then you should have been faster, love. Now, tell me about that tattoo of yours you want to get. Do you have something on your mind or am I free to come up with a design?” he asked, quickly shifting into his artist mode. He wasn’t really curious about the reason you ended up in his studio, nor he blamed you for barging in like Jimin did in the morning. He simply wanted to start to work, that was all. And you had to admit, it once again stole the wind from under your wings and left you standing there frozen in one place with lips parted but no words leaving them. A wave of admiration towards the young man that dedicated his free time to grace the skin of other people woke up inside of you and brought the butterflies in your stomach to life.
As the question settled in, your mind was suddenly blank like a fresh canvas, not a simple idea crossing it. Your loss of words made him chuckle before he turned to his table and reached for yet another sketchbook laying there. The sound of pages flipping filled the room, accompanied by Jungkook’s soft humming until he found what he was looking for.
“What do you think about this? It’s a free design I made a few days ago but I was too busy to put in on the wall. It looks like something that might suit you. Of course, it’s just my opinion,” with those words he handed you the sketchbook opened on a page with the design he had on mind for you. And you had to admit, it was beautiful. A simple line of flowers tangled together, nothing too exaggerating, quite the right opposite. However, you couldn’t quite grasp the concept of place where he wanted to put it.
“It looks really beautiful, and now I will probably sound too stupid, but where do you want to put it?” you asked, genuinely interested in his answer. Of course, he must have had an idea of where to place it once he was working on it. Your question brought a smile to his face as he came closer and gently grabbed the sketchbook from your hands. He put it back on the table while his right hand remained cuffing your left wrist.
“Here, around your wrist like a bracelet while the rest of the tattoo will continue to the back of your hand. Exactly here,” his fingers traced a delicate way from your wrist to the back of your hand, leaving a burning trace behind. Breath almost hitched in your throat when you realized how close he got to you without you realizing it, however, you quickly collected yourself and fixed your posture, looking into his dark eyes. “It’s your first tattoo and I believe I don’t have to tell you how important it is for you to choose the right place. Consider this a friendly opinion of mine. It would really suit you, ___.”
Just as he finished his little speech, his touch left your hand, yet the burning sensation remained lingering over the surface of your skin.
“That sounds like a really lovely idea,” you murmured as you brought your hand closer to your face, examining the place he traced with his fingers just seconds ago. As much as you weren’t excited about the idea of getting a tattoo this fast, although you’ve always wanted one, you started changing your mind in a snap of fingers. And whether it was the picture you really liked or Jungkook’s aura that was only hard to resist, you didn’t know. What you were sure about was the one and only thing - you weren’t about to back away from this decision. Not anymore.
You were surprised by yourself and the sudden discovery you missed the way Jungkook chuckled and shook his head over your strange behavior.
“Are you sure about that? Because I don’t really want you to chase me down the university halls in case you don’t like it anymore, you know? Tattoo is mostly a permanent thing and let me tell you, it’s really painful if you want to get rid of that. Not to mention it’s almost twice as expensive. Think about it, love,” it almost sounded like he tried to change your mind, and honestly, you felt like a child getting a lecture. Which you didn’t like at all.
“Of course, I’m sure. I wouldn’t be here in the first place if I wasn’t. I’ve wanted a tattoo for a very long time, I just didn’t give it a proper thought - as of what to get and where to place it. I was hoping that since you are a pro—you could help me out with that. Which you did, so…” you shrugged, giving him a look full of confidence. At least, you hoped you did. And as to seal your words, you took a step closer to him with a smile gracing your features. “So, can we do it today?”
Smirk flashed through his features and mirrored in his eyes.
“Of course, love.”
Jungkook put everything into motion rather smoothly and you had to admire the way he basically danced around the salon while he prepared everything he was about to need for your tattoo. From time to time, your eyes flickered to the already prepared design laying on the small table near the tattooing chair you were aiming for. Excitement rushed through your bloodstream just when you imagined the art on your hand. Funny, how everything changed in a snap of fingers and your annoyed mood was quickly replaced by the excitement in the form of butterflies fluttering in your tummy.
“Do you mind if I play some music?” he asked with his back turned to you as he did some last preparations for your tattoo.
“Not at all. It’s your place, play whatever you want,” you shook your head and shrugged down the leather jacket you were wearing. The room was hot and you shouldn’t be wearing it anyway, so you took it off and climbed into the chair, waiting rather impatiently for the blonde artist to be done with his little preparations. The soft tunes of hip-hop music filled the air and you had to smile. For some reason, even though you didn’t know him at all, the music suited Jungkook very much. It went along the aura his persona gave off, almost hand in hand.
“What is that? I’ve never heard this song,” you asked curiously as you made yourself comfortable in the chair, leaning against the leather surface with the butterflies still playing the game of catch in your stomach. Have you really been that excited about getting that goddamn tattoo? Or was Jeon Jungkook responsible for the weird excitement you haven’t seen coming once you stepped out of your friend’s car? Such questions popped in your mind and you had to sigh in defeat as you didn’t have a single answer.
The way your question captured his attention and the way he turned to you with eyes sliding up and down your body in the tattooing chair certainly didn’t help to calm the storm inside of you.
“Do you know Jung Hoseok? He is one of the postgraduates, but other than studying, he likes to work on music. This is one of the songs he released within his mixtape a few weeks ago. It’s only on SoundCloud, so I don’t blame you for now knowing it, but you should give it a try. He is really good,” Jungkook smiled as he was apparently praising one of his good friends, reaching for the box of latex gloves to put a clean pair on. The gesture itself told you he was ready to start working on your design.
“Not only you are a mythical group everyone is talking about, but it seems like all of you have that hidden side no one knows about - well, besides Seokjin. Everyone knows he is the most handsome bartender. I guess he is the reason why the bar is still so packed. But hey, I will give that mixtape a shot. It sounds catchy,” you wondered out loud without giving your words a thought or two. Yet, it has already escaped your mouth and you couldn’t do anything about it. And when Jungkook chuckled, you only hoped he didn’t think you were a complete weirdo.
“Is that so? I’ve never heard anyone calling us a mythical group but I can see the point. It’s just we are always busy with the university and when there’s a slight chance to do whatever else than the research for doctoral thesis, we simply do what we love to do - and it differs from person to person. For me, it’s the salon and the art of tattoo. Although it mostly belongs to my older brother, every time I’m free from uni, I spend my time here,” he was open with you and it almost made your heart melt because even though he didn’t know you properly, he talked to you about the daily basis of his life as if you two were old friends. Plus, his words convinced you he didn’t think of you as a weirdo, which was definitely a very good sign. “I’m sure there’s something you love to do too.”
That made you wonder. There were many things you enjoyed doing, but suddenly, none of them came to your mind as Jungkook kept staring at you, probably waiting for the answer. Your brain worked faster than on the university entrance exam, yet the more pressure you put on that poor thing, the more alert it seemed to be.
“Honestly, I’m glad when I have a weekend off. This is my second year on the university and keeping my shit together is getting harder and harder. But well, there was this period of time when I enjoyed doing Yoga almost every day. Currently it’s just reading books and listening to music. Now you are going to think I’m one of those boring people who like to stay inside instead of partying with a large group of friends,” you decided to be honest with him because there was nothing left to lose. Also, why not being honest with someone who decided to sacrifice his own free time in spite of giving you tattoo?
“Why would I think you are boring? I love being by myself with a good book or a good movie on Netflix. However, I also like to go out with my friends from time to time. And I bet you do, too,” the teasing smirk was back on his lips, although it didn’t last long as he reached for your hand with excited sparkles dancing in his eyes. “Are you ready?”
You only nodded, watching him like a hawk when he reached for the disinfection and turned back to you with a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. And just like before, Jungkook easily slipped into his tattoo artist mode, moving around with grace and something more that made your eyes stay pinned on him rather shamelessly. He must have felt your eyes scanning him up and down when he did the magic to your hand - aka applying the disinfection and then wiping your skin gently once he was done. After that, he put some kind of gel on your skin and when you asked what he was doing, he only chuckled.
“I need to print the design on your skin. It helps with the process,” he said, not giving you a single glance as he was so drawn in each step of his job. Next time you looked down on your hand, he was pressing the paper against your skin, peeling it off after he was sure the design was completely imprinted. The picture came out blue and blurry in some places, but you knew that wasn’t an issue for someone like Jungkook. “Is it okay like that? Do you want me to move it a little?” he asked, pushing back on the chair he was sitting in for you to have space to inspect the future design of your tattoo. You brought your hand closer to your face, inspecting each detail of the pattern, internally already excited about how it was going to look once it was done and completed.
Honestly, it looked nice and somehow, you felt it suited you well. Exactly like he told you when he first showed you the design. Simple and delicate, yet somehow daring. Nonetheless, you must have been checking it for way too long as Jungkook cleared his throat and you were quickly snapped back to the reality.
“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I think the place is amazing, you don’t need to move it. I can already imagine it,” you smiled without the realization Jungkook was closer to you once again, his hot breath brushing against the skin of your exposed shoulder. You weren’t going to lie here, the shivers danced down your spine crazily and your head spun a little when the scent of his musky cologne attacked your senses. How come you didn’t catch it sooner? Never mind, this wasn’t the right time nor place to be weak for the blonde artist.
Although he was hot.
Very hot.
“Okay then, let’s get this beauty done,” he smirked and you couldn’t do otherwise but mirror the excitement that was entangled within his voice. You outreached your hand for him, mentally preparing for the pain to come. Bonus points for Jungkook who let you breathe out for a while before he grabbed the tattoo machine and leaned closer to you to the point you felt his breath and cologne again. Damn, that kind of thoughts must have clouded your mind completely because you hissed when the needle first touched your skin. Thankfully, you didn’t flinch nor you moved an inch in your seat. Soon, you grew kind of used to the new sensation glazing through your skin.
“You okay?” he looked up to your eyes after a minute or two, you didn’t count. You only nodded, chewing on your inner cheeks because you couldn’t describe the weird sensation. On the scale of ‘it hurts’ to ‘it’s kind of annoying’, your feelings balanced perfectly in the middle.
“Yeah. Just can’t decide if it hurts or not. I mean, it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it was going to hurt. Am I weird?” you voiced out your thoughts with a chuckle accompanying them, hoping Jungkook would understand the message you tried to send.
“You are not weird. I’ve met countless people who couldn’t quite decipher what they felt, and to be honest with you, I’m surprised you are not squealing in pain considering the place you chose for your first tattoo is quite painful. No offense, of course. Anyway, yeah. Long time ago, me and my brother agreed this type of pain was… somehow exciting. You are expecting something great and you are willing to go such a length to get it, whilst the pain. I, personally, like that pain.”
“I can see that. Considering your arms are basically drowning in the ink. I like it,” the bold confession slipped your lips without you even realizing so. Jungkook stopped working for a split second and looked at you, eyes hazy and suddenly full of something that hasn’t been there before. And as much as you yelled at yourself internally to avoid his gaze, the other half of yourself did quite the right opposite. You started back with the growing smirk curling your lips in a teasing matter. Something inside of you enjoyed the little game that was slowly but surely getting out of control with each second that passed. If he could call you love, you could play with him in return as well.
All while keeping his eyes on yours, he started talking, the process of tattoo momentarily completely forgotten.
“Most of it is mine work, some of it my brother’s. Got my first one when I was sixteen and parents almost killed me. My brother went with me, he played the role of my legal guardian since I was still a minor. And that’s basically how this addiction started. First tattoo, drawing my own designs, getting the machine and experimenting on my own skin. I fucked up some and my brother had to cover it with another design. And I still want more,” he said, giving a special emphasis on the last word as his eyes flickered in your direction for the last time before he started working on the tattoo again. The stinging sensation grew heavier, yet you prevented yourself from yelping or flinching in your place.
Because the sensation of his burning stare caused you feel more than the process of inking your skin itself.
“That really is a sheer talent,” you murmured under your nose, still bothered with the thoughts that kept whirling in your mind like a vortex that swept everything along the way. You thought about his words again and again until a question rolled down your tongue. “Do you think I might end up wanting more too?”
He looked up to you with the long strands of blonde hair falling into his eyes. The urge to push it behind his ear was too strong and you had to resist hard not to reach out to do it. Damn, there was something about him that kept bugging you like crazy.
“I don’t know, love. You can get rid of the tattoo in a year or less. Or you can come barge in like Jimin did because you will want another one. One can never know,” he said as he reached for the paper wipes to clean the first part of the tattoo that crawled around your wrist. His touch was gentle and caring, almost as sweet as the smile that appeared on his lips when he said: “I’m going to finish the outlining and then we can take a break if you want. But I should warn you that after the break, it might hurt a little. Your skin will be triggered, so if you feel dizzy or something, let me know.”
“Now you sound like I might pass out.”
“You wouldn’t be the first one,” again, the sound of his laugh filled the room and you rolled your eyes. “But so far, you are holding really bravely. You are definitely not going to pass out.”
The next twenty minutes passed in silence between the two of you, only the soft tunes of R&B music filled the room. However, that wasn’t something that disturbed you, quite the right opposite. You managed to relax yourself, body almost melting against the chair as you let Jungkook finish outlining the tattoo. However, despite your relaxed state, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he touched you even though it was just a part of his job. Of course he had to touch you, of course he had to be careful with what he was doing.
But there was something more to it. Something more about Jeon Jungkook and the way he talked to you when he explained the story behind his tattoos. The way his eyes from time to time flickered to you and refused to leave just to hold a tiny piece of eye-contact. Not that you wanted to flatter yourself, but you did. This wasn’t only in your head - he was staring because he probably felt the same connection or how you should call it.
No, it was not connection.
Perhaps something else.
Something you would dare to call desire.
But then again, you didn’t want to flatter yourself.
But you did.
The realisation you were all hot and disturbed because of the blonde tattoo artist covered in ink felt fresh and exciting, however, you were quickly pulled out of the pool of your thoughts when he pushed back and put down the machine, getting rid of the gloves. He threw them into a trash bin and when he looked at you, there was this bunny smile gracing his features.
“Time for a little break. Do you want coffee or something? I bet the one you brought with you must be already cold,” he shook his head and got up from the seat, eyes still pinned on you. For some reason, a thought of him being able to read your thoughts momentarily flashed through your mind - and you felt stupid for even thinking about it. Of course, it was only able in those fantasy books you loved reading.
Yet, his eyes mirrored something deeper.
“Coffee, please. With milk and sugar if I can ask.”
“Of course. Everything for you, love.”
Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said it might hurt after the break. The skin on your hand was triggered and burning, however, you were too proud to admit it was getting too painful and too unbearable. Instead, you kept biting on your inner cheek while your eyes remained on his focused face and his skillful fingers that were almost done with the tattoo. What was first a design in Jungkook’s little sketchbook was now a beautiful art gracing the skin of your hand in a very delicate way. Just when the art was done and Jungkook cleaned your skin, he put on a transparent tape over it and gave you yet another bunny smile.
“And, we are done,” he pushed away from you and got rid of the latex gloves, cleaning the mess around while you hopped down from the chair and checked yourself in the mirror on the wall (although you didn’t really have to since the tattoo was perfectly visible just by looking at it). As you were scanning your posture in the reflection, you also felt something else. A pair of eyes running up and down your body rather shamelessly, and you had to admit - you enjoyed the attention he was giving you.
“You are strangely silent and I’m not sure if I like it or not,” Jungkook surprised you with his words, causing you to finally turn to him with a smile tugging on the corners of your lips. He was already done with cleaning the space, now sitting in the tattooing chair with arms folded over his chest. Something about him was so mesmerizing you found yourself unable to look away and take a deep breath. He seemed the same, though, giving you a rather intimidating look full of undisclosed attention and something more.
“I was just checking the masterpiece you created, that’s all. It looks amazing,” your voice came out strong and steady, surprising even yourself when you finished the sentence with a smile plastered over your features. Ever since you crossed the threshold of Jungkook’s salon, you managed to boost your confidence a little over the small talk and the cup of coffee you two had together during the short break.
“Now you are exaggerating, love. Anyway, I’m glad you like it. The first one is always very special. At least in my case,” the smirk was soon replaced by the bunny smile you found too cute on a guy like Jungkook. His appearance and look probably confused many people - including you. When you saw him for the first time, you thought he was a bad boy, a player, someone who would toy with you around only to tell you off the next day. But the more you were talking to him through the session, the more convinced you grew he was actually a nice guy with passion for art and tattoos. He was a nice example of that ‘to not judge the book by its cover’ saying. Those thoughts seemed to occupy your mind for longer than you thought as Jungkook slid down the chair and came closer to you, examining the tattoo he has just given you. “And it looks very good on you. Hot and tempting, but also sweet and delicate. It’s complimenting you well, love,” this time, he put a special emphasis on the last word, catching you completely off guard. However, you quickly collected yourself as your eyes found his, already staring. Once again, he came too close to you, completely destroying the last pieces of your personal space, but for some reason, you didn’t give a damn. If he was about to play, you weren’t the one to chicken out of this. No, not really. Therefore, came the answer with a smile flashing through your features and the smirk your eyes managed to pull out.
“Thank you, I like that place too. And who knows, I might come for more once I think about it deeper,” you smiled and internally fought the urge to touch him somehow. Anyhow. The aura around him was so welcoming you almost heard it whispering those teasing words into your ear, luring you to come closer despite the fact his work was over for now. You didn’t want to be done with him, not yet. You wanted more.
And moreover, you wanted him to call you like that again.
Gosh, being attracted to someone has never been more annoying than at this very moment when you wanted nothing more but to lean closer and—
“I’d be very happy, to be honest,” he took a step back, however, the smirk remained lingering over his facial features, giving you that tiny spark of hope that the game wasn’t finished just yet. But then again, he took a step back and it was a sign for you to do the same.
“Surely I will let you know in advance next time. Now, how much do I owe you?”
“How much what?”
“How much for the tattoo, Jungkook,” you couldn’t help but put a special emphasis on his name that rolled down your tongue easier than you first expected. He seemed to be caught off guard momentarily before a soft sound of him chuckling filled the room.
“Nothing,” he shrugged as if it indeed was nothing, as if he just didn’t grace your skin with his art.
His answer made you look at him in pure shock, blinking once and twice before his answer settled and you finally understood the simple word that left his lips. Just when you were about to scold him a little, he caught you unprepared with yet another shocking answer. “I stole a drink from you, so think about this as a payback. Also, you seem to be friends with Seokjin - and Seokjin’s friends are my friends.”
It was quick and bold answer, leaving you standing there as if someone spilled a bucket of cold-ass water over your head. Your lips formed a shape of a small ‘o’ and you very probably looked like a complete idiot.
“No, I can’t let you do that. I came here on your day off; you can’t give me a tattoo for free.”
“My studio, my rules, love. However, you are right about this one,” he wondered out loud, giving you a look that you couldn’t decipher, quite the right opposite. The look and his answer made your heart beat faster, almost as if it wanted to jump straight out of your ribcage. However, you kept it cool, just casually waiting for him to tell you more.
But he didn’t.
“So?”
“So… let’s just say you owe me this one, love. Let’s settle this as a debt I can collect anytime I want. What do you think about that?” he tilted his head to the side and gave you a look that was supposed to look innocent, yet there was nothing innocent about the mischief burning in his eyes. And despite the fact you didn’t know what did he mean by the ‘debt he could collect anytime he wanted’, the idea somehow excited you, causing the butterflies to play the game of catch in your tummy again.
“I think that’s something I can agree on.”
“Then give me your number, love,” he fetched his phone and unlocked it, handing it to you right after. You took a deep breath, typing the number and giving it back almost immediately. You didn’t dare to save the number, honestly curious about what name he was about to use for you. But as much as you tried to peek, Jungkook turned away from you, typed something down and then gave your phone a quick call so you had his number as well. Just then he put the phone back into the pocket of his jeans. Pout momentarily flashed through your features, but once he turned back to you, it was quickly replaced by a smile. At least you had his number now.
“Alright so… I’m gonna go now. Thank you for… you know, staying and working despite you were supposed to have a day off.”
“No need to thank me, pretty one. Let me tell you, it was a very well spent time. I will see you around? Perhaps on Seokjin’s anniversary party at the bar next week? Or… perhaps sooner, who knows,” the same mysterious look appeared in his face once again as he gave you a look. You tried not to pay attention to the way he ghosted after you while you collected your stuff and slid into the leather jacket. “And don’t forget to take care about the tattoo. Leave the tape on for approximately twenty-four hours and then gently wash it. And use a special lotion, here, I almost forgot,” it was impressive how quickly he snapped into his artist mode, reaching for one of the tubes standing on the shelf nearby. “Here, use this. Twice or thrice a day. If anything, call me.”
“Thank you, Jungkook. I will see you.”
“I already can’t wait, ____.”
Perhaps Jungkook was right when he said he would see you at the bar next week. And maybe, just maybe, you expected that stupid call or debt-collecting way sooner. Because once you came home from the tattoo session at his salon, you did nothing else but stared at your phone, almost cursing yourself for being that worked up over a boy you’ve only spent a few hours with. Yet, he left you excited and expecting, although nothing came. The week was long and boring, you mostly spent it with your friends or cuddled under the blanket with Netflix and bottle of red wine. From time to time, you thought about giving him a call first, but you always declined the idea as soon as it rubbed against your mind. You didn’t want to seem desperate; you didn’t want to look like another freshmen thirsting over the postgrad student, way out of your league.
But then again.
The way he talked to you never left your memory, quite the right opposite. Your brain decided to rub it in your face until the night of Seokjin’s anniversary party came and your friends came barging into your dorm room with paper bags full of alcohol they claimed to be a ‘pre-game you needed’. Drinks were followed by loud laughter and fight over who was about to use the bathroom first - because it had the biggest mirror and the best lightning needed for a precise make-up process.
Hours later, you finally made it to the bar, wearing short black dress your friends chose for you despite your loud protest. At first, it felt a bit uncomfortable because you were used to visit the place wearing jeans or shorts with comfortable tops, but once you realized you weren’t that underdressed, it calmed your mind a little since there were girls wearing considerably less amount of clothes.
“I’m thinking about tequila, what about you?” one of your friends asked, actually not waiting for you answer as she made a straight bee line towards the bar. Not caring about people waiting, she fought her way towards the bar and ordered you a round of the drink you swore you would never drink again. Yet, some promises were made to be broken - all over again, in your case.
After you received your shot of tequila, you cheered with your friends but not for long. It literally took them ten minutes to disappear, dancing in random corners of the bar with random dudes while you tried your best to find a calmer place - which was a corridor that led to the restrooms and deeper, where the visitors of the establishment weren’t allowed.
Not that you weren’t about to have fun, not at all. You just wanted to check your phone in case… well, you were probably very much head over heels for Jeon Jungkook who didn’t give you a call or spared you a text since last Saturday, but who were you to blame him?
“Looking for someone?”
You almost jumped in your place, placing the phone back into your purse as you turned around and face Seokjin, the handsome bartender to whom this crazy party has been dedicated. Instead of his usual place behind the bar, he seemed to have a night off, enjoying the party at its fullest.
“No, not really. My friends dumped me and I wanted to check my phone, that’s all,” you shrugged with a smile on your face, crossing your arms over your chest right after. “What about you? Aren’t you having fun tonight? It’s your third anniversary as the most handsome bartender - as I heard. What are you doing here?”
Yes, what was he doing there? In the hallway that led towards the door to the supply room when he wasn’t even working? Perhaps he was seeking some lone time as well, you didn’t know.
“Oh, we are at the VIP box with the guys but we ran out of some bottles so I was just going to get them. It’s easier than fetching it from the bar. Do you mind giving me a helping hand?” he asked with a genuine smile plastered over his features. You quickly nodded, following him to the supply room. You’ve never been there before which made you feel like going on an adventure. Seokjin quickly grabbed a few bottles of whisky, handing you two of them as he collected more. You gave him a look but he left it without answer which only left you wondering just how many guys were out there, sitting in the VIP box he had mentioned before.
“So, are you enjoying the party?” you asked and followed him out of the supply room, hands full of bottles of alcohol. Seokjin scoffed but smile crawled to his lips almost immediately.
“I’d rather spend the night behind the bar. I mean, I’m not saying I’m not enjoying the night, but it feels different to be on the other side. I guess I’ve been working here for way too long to enjoy a proper night off.”
“Come on, this is your party, you should enjoy it,” you nudged him as you navigated your way through the crowd of people dancing on the floor. The VIP box was located on the second floor of the bar, way calmer spot for people who just wanted to chat and enjoy the night without bumping into already intoxicated (mostly) freshmen. Way up there was a bit challenging with high heels and your hands full, but you successfully reached the spot - and almost dropped the bottles when your eyes met with Jeon Jungkook’s. He seemed to be surprised to see you up there but he quickly adapted to the situation and offered you a smile that quickly transformed into a welcoming smirk.
You put the bottles on the table, completely ignoring the looks of others, and straightened your posture.
“Okay, so… I’ll go,” you didn’t know who did you address your words to, but Seokjin was the one to answer you almost immediately.
“Why would you go? You said your friends dumped you. Stay with us for a while and then you can go. I don’t think the others would mind,” he said, turning to the guys sitting around the table. They shrugged one after another until it came to Jimin and Jungkook. The duo seemed to welcome you way warmer than the others, deep into a conversation about a thesis that was completely out of a place.
“Come, sit, sweetheart,” Seokjin ushered you to the last vacant spot next to Jungkook who immediately moved to give you slightly more space. Not so much, though, as he shamelessly threw his arm on the couch over your arms. He didn’t touch you, but you knew the motion spoke for itself.
“So, you got dumped, huh?” he asked, leaning a bit closer so you could hear him. The music might have been a bit more silent than down there, but people still needed to sit closer to each other if they didn’t want to yell like crazy. Exactly like the rest of them since the conversation seemed to escalate into something reminding more of a fight.
“It depends on the point of view. They were pretty much smashed before we even arrived here. You know, the pre-game and stuff. So, after a shot of tequila, they disappeared to look for an adventure like Powerpuff girls. I’m not blaming them, it’s not the first time. And right now, I guess I’m talking way too much, aren’t I?” you looked at him, kind of flustered by your own behavior. The words just fell off your mouth without you thinking about them first. Perhaps you were intoxicated more than you first thought and it perfectly mirrored on the way you were talking to him - shamelessly and without filter between your brain and mouth.
“You can never talk too much, love.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. At least you are not blushing and giggling like crazy. That’s really something I’m not digging,” he shook his head and looked into your eyes but soon, the gaze dropped to the hand in your lap. He gently reached for it, his thumb recreating the lines of the tattoo that was already in the process of healing. “Seems like you didn’t forget to take care about it. Good girl,” his voice dropped a few tones lower and his breath caressed your skin. Your eyes met and your heart fluttered, the urge to lean closer was back and on the highest alert. Yet, you were still not intoxicated enough to simply lean closer, grab his collar and kiss him right here, in front of his friends. Also, the way Seokjin peeked over his shoulder to check on you to stopped you from proceeding with the plan that has just come to life in your mind.
But taking one brave step forward would harm anyone, would it?
You leaned closer to his ear, desperately fighting the way his cologne was making you go crazy, and whispered: “Exactly like you told me, Jungkook.”
His posture changed and you could swear you saw the muscles shifting under the layers of clothes he was wearing. With clenched jaw and closed eyes, it took him a while to come back to his senses. Yet, you never pulled away from him, enjoying the scent of his musky cologne taking over your senses rather quickly.
“Love, what are you doing right now?”
“What am I doing?” you asked, blinking once and giving him an innocent smile. “I’m not doing anything, Jungkook. I just let you know I’m taking care about my tattoo the way you told me to.”
“Right,” he straightened his posture and cleared his throat. Something inside of you chuckled, the silent voice telling you that indeed, the game you started to play last week was on the table once again. With those thoughts, you watched as he reached for one of the bottles on the table and turned to you with a question mirroring in his eyes. You only nodded, giving him a go to pour you a glass.
Suddenly, you completely forgot about the pre-game drinks and the round of tequila you had shortly after you’ve arrived at the establishment. You forgot how annoying the hungover might be in the morning. Also, it was too late to think about it when Jungkook handed you a glass of whisky you brought with Seokjin. It was neat, without ice cubes you would be happy for, but this had to do.
“To—is there something we should cheer to, love?” he asked, taking his previous place next to you. Dangerously close to you. You looked at the glass in your hands and let out a humming sound.
“First, we should toast to Seokjin. In the end, this is his party,” with those words, you turned to Seokjin who occasionally kept an eye on you two. He smiled and nodded, joining the toasting process without even being invited. When the others joined and their loud cheering filled the space, you turned back to Jungkook without taking a sip of the drink. “And then, perhaps, we should drink to this masterpiece you managed to create on my hand,” you smiled softly, yet the softness never reached your eyes as the game has already started. And you hated being on the losing end.
“You are the fierce one, I see. Honestly, I misjudged you a bit,” he said, downing the drink and putting the empty glass on the table. You did the same and leaned back, your nape brushing against his arm that managed to find the way around your shoulders once again.
“Now you got me interested. How did you misjudge me, Mr. Jeon?”
“Easy as that - you came to my studio visibly stressed on Saturday morning. I knew you were not sure about getting the tattoo at first, but then, something changed. As if something has clicked inside of you and you took the complete opposite direction. I liked that. I liked that a lot. But then again, I’ve already told you I’m not digging the fake shy game. You decided to be honest with me,” he shrugged, offering you a genuine smile.
And that was the moment the smile vanished from your face.
Because you weren’t completely honest with him.
You didn’t tell him the whole tattoo thing was just a bet because you didn’t manage to get Jimin’s number. Yes, that satan who now sat at the same table as you, laughing loudly on something his best friend told him. However, you weren’t mad about the bet anymore, because what came out of the consequences you had to accept was something beautiful. Something you fell in love with your eyes fell on it.
And perhaps that was the reason you decided to be honest with Jungkook once again. You took a deep breath, desperately trying to calm the inner storm that dispersed the game of catch the butterflies played in your stomach.
“Actually, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Come at me, love. Tell me whatever you want.”
“The tattoo… when I came into your salon last weekend, without having an appointment… it was a consequence of a bet I lost the night you stole my drink. I— I believe I don’t have to tell you what that bet was about, but the condition was simple. If I fail, I’m about to get a tattoo. I believe my friends used it against me because I was talking about getting one for quite a time, so… this was just a push for me,” suddenly, you weren’t so brave and bold as before. You felt shrinking in your seat, the touch of his hand on your shoulder almost burning. For some reason, you expected a storm coming but instead, your senses met with a chuckle that escaped Jungkook’s lips. He shook his head, giving you a rather unbelievable look.
“So, a bet, huh? I’m not gonna lie to you, love. You are not the first one to get a tattoo because of a bet. Although, I didn’t consider you the type to accept conditions like this. I guess I should put that on the mental list I made about you - things about ____ that keep surprising me. We should drink to that.”
You looked at him with mouth wide open, probably looking like an idiot. You were expecting a lecture but instead, he laughed in your face - and didn’t forget to flirt along the way. And although you were pretty much caught off guard, you quickly collected yourself and relaxed a little. Your little secret was out and you felt much lighter.
“May I know what was that bet about?”
“No, you may not. Now, pour us that drink.”
“Savage. I like that as well,” smirk graced his features momentarily. Your glasses were soon filled with another round of the golden liquid that easily slid down your dry throat and numbed your senses more. The good old feeling of intoxication clouded your view of world and your head spun a little, making you lean into Jungkook. The blonde didn’t seem to mind as he finished his drink and his hand other hand slid to your thigh, leaving a burning trail as it finished its journey on your exposed knee. He was silent for a moment, his eyes dropped to his hand that explored your skin, fingers dancing on the floor of your naked skin. The sparks of electricity were undeniable, making you take a deep breath.
“So? How did you decide? Do you want to get rid of that or do you want another one?” his hot breath met the sensitive skin under your ear as he leaned closer to ask you a question you didn’t see coming. Just then his hand left your knee and grabbed yours, thumb once again recreating the lines of tattoo he gave you. The way he was basically curled around you, shielding you from the outer world that seemed to go wild around you, made your breath got stuck in your throat, unable to give him a proper answer even though you were basically screaming in the back of your mind.
“I haven’t given it a thought yet, to be honest. But if I wanted another one, I’d definitely book an appointment beforehand, no worries about that.”
“Well, that’s your call to make. You have my number, so it’s going to be fairly easy,” he murmured, leaning even closer to you, not giving a damn about his friends sitting around the same table. You looked at him, taking a deep breath just to get a little bit higher on his musky cologne. And although his breath was mixed with alcohol and perhaps cigarettes as well, you so wanted to lean in and kiss those two sweet cushions. Inches of air held you from kissing each other, inches of nothing but space you hated so much. You hated it existed and you hated it prevented you from kissing the blonde tattoo artists. Although, everything you needed to do was simply to lean in and steal the kiss.
You didn’t do it.
No, you didn’t.
Because he was faster.
He crossed the last line of your personal space and pressed his lips against yours in a kiss that was sweet but tempting at the same time. You felt the tip of his tongue caressing your lower lip, wordlessly asking for a permission to slip in and give you more.
But there was this thing.
You weren’t alone. Not at all.
That was the reason you pushed back even though the kiss left you feeling like a hot mess. And before you had a chance to speak, he pressed his index finger on your lips.
“It’s time to collect my debt, love.”
“Collect how?”
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, boldly.
You felt your head spinning and you didn’t know whether it was because of the alcohol or the excitement that rolled through your body and settled in your core, sending painful pangs to your lower parts. Yet, you managed to give him an answer right away.
“Like where?”
“Like to my place.”
“Gladly.”
The cold night outside seemed to be the only witness of your little escape from Seokjin’s party. Jungkook’s friends sitting around the table were too busy with the fiery conversation going on to notice the two of you left, and your friends were nowhere to be seen. The club was packed, so Jungkook had to hold your hand tightly when he navigated the way through the ocean of dancing bodies. You liked it; the way his fingers tangled with yours, holding tightly onto you just to be sure you wouldn’t disappear or bail from his debt-collecting plan.
When you finally got out of the club, the cold air brushed against your skin and sobered you up a little to the point you realized what you were about to do, but Jungkook didn’t seem to care as he led the way down the street, knowing exactly where to go. Just when you crossed the street and walked for a few more minutes, you realized his studio wasn’t that far away.
The studio.
Was he really taking you to his studio?
“Didn’t you say we are going to your place?” you asked, a little bit dumbfounded when he didn’t aim for the main entrance of the tattoo salon, but instead led the way to the other side of the building. Another door came to your sight and Jungkook fished the keys from the inner pocket of his leather jacket. He noticed you staring at him with furrowed brows and he chuckled.
“Of course, love. This is my place, you just haven’t seen it all, that’s it,” he said as he unlocked the door and pulled you into a dark hallway. He closed the door and locked it again, but instead of turning on the lights, his arms sneaked around your waist like a pair of snakes, pulling your body closer into his. The way he teased you back in the club was nothing compared to how he held you at the moment, his chest hot and heaving with every breath he took brushing against you, igniting the fire again. “I hope you didn’t change your mind, princess.”
“Not yet,” teasing words rolled down your tongue and were followed by loud yelp when Jungkook’s hands slid down your bum and made you jump into his arms. The dim light of the street lights that peeked inside through the windows illuminated his face and revealed the smirk curling his lips.
“Love, you know I like it when you are fierce, but even I have my boundaries. So, if you don’t want to end up with blue ass and shaking legs, I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” he murmured into your ear and turned around as if you weighed nothing. His motion only made you wrap your arms around his shoulder and bury your face into his neck. Soon, you felt him climbing the stairs to the upper floor. Curiously, you looked around only to see nothing. The room was covered in darkness, not even the street light reaching inside.
“Mhm, mysterious,” you mumbled under your breath and squinted your eyes in desperate effort to scan the place. Jungkook only chuckled and continued in his little journey until he reached one of the doors, bringing you inside. Finally, he switched the lights on and revealed the place he brought you to.
The room was coated in darkish colors and was dominated by a big bed with sheets crumpled in a messy pile. Opposite the bed was a working table with PC and a pile of sketchbooks and in one of the corners stood a guitar. The rest of the room was made by wardrobe, drawers and shelves. It was simple yet it somehow complimented his persona. For a while, you just stood there, looking around yourself to grasp a tiny detail that would tell you something more about Jungkook’s character. And just when you were about to dive in, a pair of strong arms curling around your waist from behind cut the train of your thoughts.
“Do you want something to drink?”
You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck to pull him into a kiss that seemed to be the most natural thing ever. Your lips met in a sweet kiss that soon grew into something more heated, perhaps a fight for dominance you immediately lost as he pressed you closer to his chest and caressed your lower lip with his tongue. You opened your mouth, welcoming him with a silent whimper that crawled from deep inside of you. He smirked into the kiss, deepening it a little to lure another series of moans out of you. And when he pulled away with the same smirk still playing over his features, you pouted.
“That wasn’t an answer, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want to drink. I want you,” you murmured and your fingers started to work on his leather jacket, slowly rolling it down his shoulders until the piece of clothing hit the floor. But you didn’t stop, the jacket wasn’t enough. Your fingers found the way to the buttons of his shirt, undoing one after another until his firm chest came to view and you took a deep breath.
“Seem like you like what you see, love,” Jungkook wondered out loud, chuckling right after. Honestly, you didn’t mind stripping you off the clothes that covered upper part of his body. He didn’t even mind when your fingers touched his burning skin and recreated the lines of tattoo covering his chest and stomach, mainly the tattoo of tiger and its paw that disappeared under the waistband of his peeking boxers. When you touched him there, his hand shot up and handcuffed your wrist. “In this household, we play the fair game,” with his words, you found yourself pressed against the wall with his lips lingering around the skin of your neck. So close, yet so far; his lips left you desiring when he didn’t kiss you there. And you were craving him. You wanted him like crazy. Your mind was clouded, your eyes seeing red as he carefully peeled your jacket off your body. Cold air mixed with his hot breath gently caressed your skin and you trembled, wishing for nothing but to be in his arms already.
“Then strip me,” surprisingly, your voice came out steady and full of confidence. Even Jungkook blinked once before the infamous smirk flashed through his features - and to your very surprise, he took a step back until the back of his knees meet the bed and he sat down. Spreading his legs while leaning back on his elbows, he teasingly clicked his tongue and you felt his eyes running up and down your body.
“Why don’t you do it yourself, love?”
Wave of heat rolled through your body and your cheeks flushed momentarily. He took the game to yet another level and for a split second, you weren’t so sure about playing. But then again, your eyes briefly flickered in his direction and you had to swallow the whimper crawling up your throat.
“Fine,” you shrugged and reached for the straps of your dress, internally cursing your friends for making you wear it. This piece of dress was too tight to allow you to wear a bra underneath, but thankfully, you could afford to wear at least panties. The process of thinking slowed down your motion which only boosted the hunger in Jungkook’s eyes. The spark of power play flashed between the two of you as you finally managed to pull one string down - and the second followed right after. You’ve never stripped in front of anybody - if you didn’t count your friends, but that was a completely different case - so you weren’t so sure about what you were doing. Yet, Jungkook seemed to like it. His hand slid to his crotch where the bulge started to form while a silent curse left his lips.
You pushed the fabric lower over your hips and let it hit the floor before you stepped out of it, kicking the high heels off your feet along the way. Shivers danced down your naked spin and you trembled a little under the weight of Jungkook’s heavy gaze. He was silent for a while, only staring at you as his tongue poked his inner cheek.
“I always knew you were a piece of art, love,” his words surprised you and brought yet another wave of blush to your cheeks. Even in the middle of a heated moment he was complimenting you like a true gentleman. His posture straightened as he sat on the bed and signaled you to come closer. “Come closer, sweetheart.”
Your body acted on autopilot, approaching him only to stop between his parted legs. He looked at you from down there, long blonde strands of hair falling into his eyes as his hot breath brushed against the soft spot under your exposed breasts. The shyness went completely away when he leaned closer and his lips traced a line of wet kisses down your stomach. And again, as if your body didn’t belong to you at all, your fingers found a way to his hair, tugging on the strands tightly when he slid down the bed and dropped to his knees to reach lower.
The tingling started in your fingertips, making them numb to the soft feeling of his hair, and continued to your inners, travelling down to your core that you already felt dripping wet. Your panties were ruined the moment Jungkook stick his tongue and copied the curve of its lacy hem. But before he could do something more, you pushed away, looking at him through your hazy eyes.
“Sit.”
Throaty laugh crawled out of his mouth, but he obediently sat back on the bed, waiting for your move. You weren’t so sure about your next move, but what you knew what that you couldn’t let him continue in his little play. You were already balancing at the edge of falling down the pit of pleasure - and honestly, you didn’t want to let go that easily. And that soon.
You waged your way between his legs only to drop to your knees like he did seconds ago, undoing his pants rather quickly. The bulge in his pants didn’t escape your attention and you found yourself licking your lips. The situation completely took over your senses and turned you into a someone who desperately sought something raw and feral.
“Must be painful, isn’t it, honey?” he was the pro in using pet names, but who said you couldn’t give him one as well? Mainly when he looked like he really enjoyed you calling him like that. However, you quickly hushed those thoughts to the corner of your mind and rolled down his pants, throwing it into the space behind you. Fierce, really. Suddenly, Jungkook was sitting in front of you only in his boxers, yet you decided to get him rid of those as well.
Wearing nothing but ink and the smug smirk on his face, you took another deep breath to calm your senses before your eyes dropped to his lower area. Tall and hard, his cock brushed against his underbelly with his red tip that called for some attention.
“It indeed was painful, thank you for your help, little one,” suddenly, his voice dropped a few tones lower and you swallowed hard, contemplating what to do next. Of course, you weren’t stupid, you knew what to do next. However, you wanted to adore the view in front of you for a little longer.
Because the naked man in front of you kicked the air out of your lungs completely.
“Well then we should do something about it, don’t you think?” you leaned closer, fingers curling around the base of his pulsing cock. Whimper escaped Jungkook’s lips and you smirked, leaning even closer to gently kiss his rosy tip.
“Love, don’t tease me,” he murmured, voice deeper than before because of the tense atmosphere lingering around. You had none of his shit as you took him in and twirled your tongue around his length, feeling the veins popping out. You gave him a few licks before diving deeper, letting his tip brush against the back of your throat. His whole body tensed under you and his hand found a way to your hair, tugging on it rather harshly. Not that you minded.
“Fuck, love, just like that—“ he threw his head back and moaned loud, causing you to swallow on purpose. You looked up at him exactly at the same moment he looked at you, eyes wide open as a deer caught in the flashlight in the middle of the road. What happened next was too fast for you to catch up but suddenly, you found yourself caged under his firm body on the bed, legs wide apart as he squeezed himself in between. His whole posture changed, the features of a soft artist were gone and replaced by something harsher and hungrier. He was hungry for lust and passion. He was hungry for you.
“It’s time for you to get rid of these,” he murmured, pushing away only to get you rid of the panties. The sound of fabric ripping filled the room and you gasped, giving him a rather offended look.
“Those might have not been my favorite one, but hey! I’m not going home completely underwear-less!”
“Who said you are going back home?” the cockiness in his voice caught you completely off guard and unprepared when he parted your legs again and slid lower, making himself comfortable in between. “Because I’m not letting you go home that soon, love,” with those words, you felt his lips burning a fiery path down your underbelly until he reached your womanhood. And then, the fireworks exploded behind your closed eyes. First, you felt his lips sparing your nether lips soft kisses, nibbling and sucking gently. Then, you felt his tongue sliding up and down your slit, lapping around to drink your juices. And last, you felt his teeth gently teasing your clit which almost pushed you towards the bliss you wanted to hold off for as long as possible.
But your plans were ruined the moment you felt one of his fingers pushing in slowly, curling inside only to leave your body twisting on his bed and in his sheets. Soon, second finger followed, stretching you oh so good while his lips never stopped the wicked dance with your clit. Moans mixed with curse words fell down your lips and your fingers tangled within his blonde locks in a desperate need for climax. And as it was slowly building inside of you, you rolled your hips against his face and now three fingers that pushed in and out in a desperately slow manner. The man exactly knew what he did to you - and he enjoyed it.
“Jungkook—I—I need to cum. Please—“ you stuttered with the last strength you found in yourself, giving him a look. He started back, looking like a hot mess between your legs with your juices glistering all over his face.
“You sound so good when you are pleading, love. Do you want it that much? Huh?” he asked, picking up the pace and you nodded, desperately rolling your hips against his hand. You felt the spasm coming, dangerously close, peeking around the corner. Chuckling sound filled the room as he dove deep into your core again, this time sucking harsher. That was the last action that finally pushed you towards the first orgasm of the night. You let go and welcomed the warm arms of the bliss, screaming and moaning while Jungkook tried his best to guide you through the paradise. The motion of his hands slowed down and he spared your inner thighs sweet kisses to calm you down a little.
It’s been a while since you experienced orgasm this hard and heavy, clouding your senses for minutes until you came back to yourself. You opened your eyes to meet Jungkook’s. He was hovering over your, his erecting poking your inner thighs only reminding you that indeed, he needed some release as well.
“You are so beautiful,” with those words, he leaned closer and gave you a taste of yourself, the kiss so sweet but so passionate at the same time. After you were sure your body recharged at least a little, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, bodies colliding together. Yet, what was sweet once again turned into something not so innocent anymore. His hips rolled against yours and you were again reminded of his pulsing shaft.
“Jungkook—“
“Yes, my love?”
“I need you. Take me. Make me yours.”
“As you wish, my love,” he spared you one last kiss before he pushed away and reached for the nightstand. You gave him a confused look before you realized he was reaching for a pack of condoms. Smile sneaked to your features as you grabbed his arm and pulled him closer again. And at that moment, it was his turn to be confused.
“You don’t need that. I’m clean and on pills so—“
“Shit, don’t tell me twice,” he was back above you, his hand crawling down to his shaft to give himself a few pumps before you felt his tip brushing against your slit. The familiar wave of heat rolled through your body and you didn’t even have enough time to collect yourself as he slowly pushed in, grunting noise accompanying his motion. Slowly, from the tip to the base he filled your pulsing walls and halted, his eyes scanning your face to find a tiny hint of discomfort. However, there was none, only a pure need to urge him to move.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” his voice came out low and hoarse with the first roll of his hips. Unable to form any coherent word or sentence, you only nodded, desperately reaching for him to hold onto something. The gentleman he was, he leaned closer, however the motion caused him to part your legs even wider until you find yourself in a position when your legs were pressed against your chest while Jungkook picked up the pace, sliding deeper and deeper with each thrust of his hips. He looked at you and despite the lust that almost sent you to another dimension, you managed to give him a smirk.
“I told you—I did yoga.”
“From now on, you are only practicing yoga with me, love,” smug smirk tugged on the corner of his lips as his thrust became harsher and you felt his tip hitting your cervix.
“You wish,” your teasing manners didn’t leave you even in such a situation, and you soon felt your legs pressed between his and yours shoulders as he decided to lean in and shut you with his own lips. The kiss was hot and heavy, broken from time to time because you the moans that crawled out of your throat. Each thrust of Jungkook’s hips became harder and deeper, which made you call out his name loudly. You felt the sensation building inside of you, slowly but surely. Clenching around him, you tried desperately to push him towards his own limit which was already visible in his hazed eyes. He was close and so were you, yet letting go still seemed out of option.
“More,” you murmured, tugging on his lock, pushing him closer and closer to the finish line. You felt him twitching harshly inside of you, first drops of precum warming your insides.
“Fuck, love, I’m so close.”
“Then cum with me,” your voice came out as a desperate cry, eyes almost tearing as you looked at him, completely lost in the view he provided you. Hot mess was nothing compared to the man towering over you, desperately chasing over the sweet release.
His hand found a way between your sweaty bodies, crawling lower until it reached your clit and gave it a few rubs which finally pushed you towards the finish line. Your body was momentarily caught in a spasm before you allowed yourself to let go, screaming and desperately digging your nails into the skin of Jungkook’s back. The second orgasm of the night felt stronger than the first one, mainly when Jungkook kept thrusting into you, still not there. And you let him. You let him overstimulate you until his body tensed and his cock twitched inside of you for the last time before the thick warm sprouts of his release coated your insides and eventually leaked out into his sheets. His body collapsed into yours and you let a whimper. The heavyweight of his relaxed body made you unable to breathe and when you tried to push him away, it didn’t work.
“Kook, baby.”
“Hmpf.”
“Jungkook.”
Nothing.
“Jeon.”
“What?”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Crybaby,” he murmured and slowly pushed away while gently pulling out of you. The sudden lack of his girth made you whimper but you soon found yourself comfortable as he rolled over and pulled you closer to his arms. His chest was firm but soft at the same time, the slight scent of his musky cologne mixed with post-sex scent lingering around. He pressed a kiss to your hair and chuckled.
“What was that?” you asked, too tired to actually look at him.
“Nothing. I just didn’t imagine collecting my debt to end up like this.”
“Now you are lying.”
“No, I’m not, love,” he shook his head and spared the crown of your hair another kiss. “I wanted to ask you on a date. Well, I guess we skipped that stage. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless you want to go on date with me.”
Now that was something that made you look at him with a question mark hanging above your head. The man that has just fucked the soul out of you turned into a complete sweetie asking you out for a date. How unbelievable.
“That I’d love to, Jungkook.”
Heavy sigh left his lips. It almost looked like he was relieved.
“And you know what else I want?”
“What is that, my love?”
“Drink. I want my drink, Jungkook.”
“I swear to god… You are going to be the death of me.”
#bts fanfic#bts fic#fanfiction#jungkook#jungkook fanfiction#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#smut#college au#bts au
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Thank you so much to everyone who gave me advice and support on last night’s post.
Today I did assess the damage done to my doll stuff, and I’m very relieved that Kaya is more or less okay. I was able to buff out the small scratches on her face, and her braids were chewed on so I re-braided her hair. Her wig was pulled off in the back, and I was able to glue that down. I didn’t find the missing beads and elk tooth from her dress, but I can probably replace it with generic beads. Her two dogs Tatlo and Lone Dog needed just a bit of stitching and stuffing put back in. The needle felted puppy version of Tatlo that my sister made for me from alpaca fleece probably cannot be saved, since his limbs were torn and scattered. So maybe he’ll be the three-legged dog that Kaya adopts in one of her short stories.
For context, here’s Kaya’s setup and the mess that was made:
I think the dog was planning to drag away little Sparks Flying, but realized he was heavy and so she dropped him right there. And there’s only one broken salmon filet and three camas roots left from her foods set. I think the dog straight up ate all of her other foods, because they’re gone and I haven’t found them anywhere.
Josefina’s goat Sombrita is undamaged. Caroline’s calf is covered in mud and dog slobber, but is otherwise okay. And Kirsten actually lost three cats: her original two, plus a really cute sleeping cat that purred and vibrated when you touch the button. That one also had a rabbit fur exterior, so that’s why the puppy tore it to pieces. I found the battery pack but not the button cell batteries, so I’m hoping the dog didn’t eat those.
I haven’t seen the dog anywhere today, nor have I seen her owners. I don’t know where they were today. So unfortunately there’s no resolution with them yet.
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Ours
Pairing: Osamu x f!reader, Atsumu x f!reader
Tags/Warnings: noncon, infidelity, pregnancy/forced abortion, knife stuff, gore, body horror, snuff, wound, necro-stuff, abuse, yandere, angst
Osamu stares at your pregnant belly; a round barrier that’s keeping you away from him. He knows you don’t even want it. Otherwise why would you come crying to his onigiri shop crying tonight. It’s obviously because you tried to go to a clinic, but who in their right mind would try to abort the baby of famous athlete Miya Atsumu?
Atsumu gagged them all with money, tied their hands together with even more promises. There’s nothing for you to do but stay put and birth the child. It took everything for you to find a time with no bodyguards to slip away. If it weren’t for the excuse that you wanted to shop for baby clothes, Atsumu would never have allowed you to even step foot outside the house.
“Please help me,” you sob, taking a step closer to the one who looks almost identical to your fiance. “There’s no one else but you.”
You look pathetic, makeup smudged and messy. Osamu smugly looks down at you. “Only now you finally realize?” He grips your jaw and forces you to look at him, fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your lips pucker. “I told you before, didn’t I? Atsumu’s a crazy bastard, but I would take care of you. All he wants is to use you as a breeding cow, his little cocksleeve. That’s all you’ll ever be to him. Shallow, gold-digging bitch, you reap what you sow.”
“Shh-shhamoo, ‘Samu” you slur between your teeth, “shorrry.” Sorry. You regret it now. You probably shouldn’t have turned Osamu down in the first place for Atsumu. Maybe you really were blinded by Atsumu’s reputation and prestige...and his money. He could give you what Osamu could not at the time and the simple life working tirelessly, saving and making ends meet wasn’t how you wanted to live. But really, you shouldn’t have ever gotten yourself involved with the twins.
“Sorry? SORRY?! You say?” Slap. Osamu yanks you back up with a fistful of your hair. “You hurt me. I loved you and gave you my heart, but you...you broke me. And now you’re just going to sweep it all under the rug with ‘sorry’?”
“Sorry, I really am ‘Samu,” you sob, wincing from the sharp pain shooting through your scalp. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. Please help me, I’m begging you. I know only you can save me now.”
The tight grip on your hair relents and Osamu wipes the messy trail of smudged makeup from beneath your eye. He smiles almost gently, “That’s right, only I can protect you. Stupid, took you too long.”
Osamu’s kisses are deceptively soft. Another reason you left Osamu for Atsumu is also this. Osamu made you feel like you were dangled over deep waters with no safety net. You couldn’t tell what was on his mind, he hid his thoughts much better than Atsumu. Atsumu was more straightforward and that gave you security. But right now, only Osamu can give you safety and protection. Even though you know it’s not right, the time and the person, you can’t help but respond back
Your hands thread through his grey locks as bodies come closer until Osamu feels your pregnancy pressed against him. He pulls away abruptly and stares. You follow his eyes to your belly and the unmistakable growing biology within it beyond the skin and flesh.
“You want to get rid of it, right?” Osamu mutters, palming the protrusion.
“Yes...but—”
“Shut up,” he snaps, stalking to the kitchen quickly. You find him back a moment later with a knife in his hand, sharpened tip pointed at you. “You asked me to help, I’m going to help you.”
“What are you doing?” you ask hesitantly, unsure and frightened. With the blade pointed at your throat you have no choice but to back up as Osamu comes closer to you. You feel the edge of the table at your hip, another step and your stumble, falling back onto the table surface.
Osamu loosens the tie on his apron and stands between your legs, forcing them apart. You hear some buckling noises and strain your head to see his length fully erect. His hands travel to your waist to pull your skirt and panties down. Your hand stops him in their tracks. Your widened eyes are alarmed at what Osamu really wants.
“Not this! Please, not this ‘Samu,” you argue, trying to pull his hand away from tearing the clothing from you.
Osamu deftly slices the knife across the back of your hand, drawing out a thin line of red. The pain has your hand flinching away, letting Osamu pull the skirt down, exposing the naked skin of your belly, and pussy folds below it. “Gonna fuck this bastard out of you,” he mutters, stuffing himself into your hole.
You scream, legs kicking out wildly as you feel the thick intrusion sheath itself into you fully. You can feel the tip pushing through your tight muscles, getting closer and closer to your womb.
“Fuck,” Osamu groans. “If I didn’t see your pregnant belly, I would’ve thought you were a little virgin. You’re so fucking tight.”
“No! Please I’m begging you, stop!”
“You begged me to help you get rid of the little bastard.” He hammers into you even harder, assaulting your cervix, the one that’s plugged like a gate.
At some point, your wails are lost when the cries become increasingly lewd. You can’t help the moans that slip out of your mouth each time Osamu pushes into you. Each draw and thrust sends waves of pleasure throughout your whole body. The bliss is almost enough for you to forget that you didn’t have your current burden, the pregnancy, that fetus. It’s kinda a pathetic state for you, being fucked on a table of the restaurant belonging to your fiance’s twin? And enjoying it?
This thing within you...if only it weren’t Atsumu’s but Osamu’s instead. It was a mistake all along.
The pain comes swift and overwhelming, an agonizing hell when you register the three inches of blade buried above your pubic bone, carving its way horizontally across. Your flesh parts like gauze, the skin splitting open sideways, the yellow paddings of your fat and the red that floods over.
Osamu pulls out the knife as he buries himself deeply into you, shooting his seed into the sealed-off womb. Your body shudders as the pain signals run havoc in your brain and the orgasm washes through beyond the pain. Your head tosses from side to side as empty screams fall from your throat. Shock takes over your body as more and more blood comes pouring out from your womb along with the fountain of amniotic fluids.
Osamu isn’t so much as bothered by the amount of red and clear pooling behind you and dripping onto the wood floor. He sticks his finger through the laceration and fingers through your guts, pushing the intestine aside until he finds the tear in the womb.
“Found it!” Osamu delightfully shoves his hand in, grabbing at the mass of dividing flesh and umbilical cord sustaining it. The mound is more difficult to remove than Osamu thinks, he tugs and tugs. It takes the muscles of his whole arm, the same ones carrying rice bags daily, to successfully detach placenta stuck to your womb.
The blood spurts in a flood, filling your belly cavity, painting Osamu’s shirt crimson. Your blood splatters across his legs and drips down his cock.
Osamu has never seen a full placenta like this in its glory. He has heard of people who have cooked it before. It’s the nature of a chef to be intrigued by ingredients of a rare and bizarre nature. But not today.
He drops the mounds on the floor, worse than food scraps. He clambers to the top of the table, knees straddling your body.
“I did it,” he tells your open yet empty eyes, looking for his thank you. He reaches his stained hand and caresses your faded cheek, smearing red across your skin. “I got it out for you.” He kisses your cold lips.
You don’t respond.
“‘Tsumu and I are genetically identical,” he tells your body. “You know what that means? That means the same cell that created that, I have it too.There’s no difference in biology, between his and mine.”
Osamu's hand wraps around his cock and pumps the length, the slick of blood squelching around him.
“But you didn’t want his version, huh? You wanted mine right? “ He chuckles and positions his cock against the gaping hole where your womb begins to deflate.
Your residual warmth still wraps around him, the yellow fats squishy and soft. Osamu wraps your gash around him, thrusting straight into your womb.
“Could’ve been with me, could’ve been...ours.”
Each thrust propels your body back and forth, tugged along his movements like an empty doll that's chewed and clawed broken. Fallen apart by seams, insides spilling out, completely drained. Only to be filled with Osamu’s seed, that you’ll never have a chance to foster.
#haikyuu smut#osamu x reader smut#osamu smut#yandere haikyuu#tw infidelity#tw blood#tw pregnancy#tw violence#tw noncon#tw gore#tw death#tw yandere#emi had a little nightmare and this was it LOL tweaked and added some more blood#miyacest fic is ALMOST done omg sorry it's taking forever but i can't wait to post it soon#idk looking at wips and i just really like 1) osamu with a knife 2) osamu with a knife killing y/n LOL#emi.freshtea#🍵.osamu#🍵.atsumu
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Realignment
Prompt: I love when Remus is a lot smarter than he lets on, so I’d love a prompt where Logan is overworking himself and not taking care of himself and one tic of the clock away from either passing out or having a full on mental breakdown (not the type you can recover from in a day). Remus notices the little signs Logan shows, and hears the intrusive thoughts Logan has. Remus really becomes concerned when Logan’s intrusive thoughts start to involve taking breaks, going to eat properly rather than inhaling granola bars, and even sleeping. Remus storms in and is like “Logan tf????” Then gets hella soft once he realizes the state Logan is in
Thank you for the prompts, babe! I liked this one the best so I picked it.
GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A C H E C K P O I N T if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!
Read on Ao3
Warnings: discussions of self-harm, nothing explicit, some self-destructive tendencies and behaviors.
Pairings: focus on intrulogical, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care
Word Count: 2410
Realignment: to align again.
Realignment: to reorganize or make new groupings of.
* * *
Remus hears a lot of weird shit.
The problem arises when the shit he starts to hear isn't weird at all.
Remus hears a lot of weird shit.
The more appropriate definition would be ‘fucked up like you wouldn’t fucking believe,’ but one of us has a problem with particularly strong language and shit doesn’t have to be censored in a lot of media anymore. Which is so convenient! For some of us!
It’s fucking great.
Anyway. Point being. Fucked up shit.
Intrusive thoughts literally fall under his purview. It’s the fun stuff! The stuff you don’t wanna think about that makes your skin crawl and your eyes pop open at the witching hour and stay awake until the sun rises. That’s Remus’s job.
And it’s like the whole Mindscape is whack-a-mole that he gets to play with! Buttons here and there, squeeze this part and watch the eyes bug out of this part, bap this one on the head, see which one pokes up next. Who’s gonna have nightmares tonight? Who is having a nightmare tonight?
It’s fun.
Point. Right. Right.
It’s normally pretty easy to tell whose intrusive thoughts are whose. They taste different. Patton’s taste like sugar so sweet it’ll fill your mouth with cavities. Virgil’s taste like spiders, crawling around his mouth. Janus’s taste like salt. So much fucking salt. Dry as hell.
Roman’s taste like blood. Problem is, Remus’s mouth normally tastes like blood, so…
Yeah, they gotta work that out.
Logan’s taste like ink. Which is why it took him so long to figure out that Logan was having them. Not just because the nerdy wolverine was so convinced he couldn’t have them—rationalizing them as philosophy principles, come on—but because Remus isn’t exactly an expert on pens. Writing like normal people. Ugh.
Normal people.
What a lie, Janny probably gets a big kick out of those.
No one is normal and normal is boring.
Logan. Right.
Okay, so here’s the thing.
Logan’s thoughts aren’t really…standard? They are to some extent, you don’t really get a whole lot of variety from him—even when Remus has been so helpful in making his room safe for him to be in during bad days, there’s such a lack of imagination there that he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel—but it’s the recent ones that’ve been getting…weird.
Remus chews thoughtfully on the kraken tentacle. He swings up to the chandelier and hangs by his ankles, letting the blood run to his head. Makes it easier to think sometimes.
It hasn’t been very long since they found out…well, since they found out.
Remus frowns. Why is he censoring himself? It’s not like he can’t fucking say self-harm, it’s not like he can’t describe what it was, it’s not like he can’t close his eyes and see it happening again.
Then his mind jumps helpfully to the shocked, panicked look on Logan’s face and the soft, furious resignation on Roman’s, and his jaw snaps shut.
Oh.
Right.
He cares. So he has to be gentle with them.
He growls, swinging himself up to perch on the chandelier proper. He turns the kraken tentacle over and chews on the rubbery side.
The others are delicate. Not that they’re more breakable than any other metaphysical humanoid, but their minds are fragile when it comes to Remus’s side of things. Could they handle the full spectrum of his side of thoughts and shit? Probably, they’re stronger than they give themselves credit for. Should they have to? Hell to the fuck no. But it means that Remus can’t just throw them in the deep end and see if the kraken spits them out whole or in chunks. Could they survive? Absolutely. Would they still be…them? Doubtful.
Remus lets one of his legs go, hanging by one knee as he tips over.
Plus they’re always a little more fragile when it comes to these thoughts anyway. Poking and prodding too much would hurt. Like, the bad kind of hurt.
They’re not supposed to get hurt. Not like that.
So. Gentle it is then.
Right. The others. He has a point, he’s just gotta get there.
Roman…fuck he’s missed his brother. They got—they got so much shit to still work out but they’re gonna do it together and fuck he loves his brother so goddamn much. Roman knows that, he knows that, and he’s always there to pull Remus out of his head when he needs it, hit him with a pillow, or tackle him onto something and hold him tight. He’s—his thoughts taste like blood and Remus hasn’t bitten anything since so that he’ll never miss it again.
But with Logan...
Logan is…odd. It hasn’t been long since they first found out—or rather, they confronted him about it, and Remus hasn’t tasted ink without it disappearing very quickly or knocking on someone’s door to please go get your fucking nerd, please. But the ink has only written the usual suspects, whispering the theorems in dark corners, muttering about the incompleteness of a set, the need for Logic, not Logan, and how to jump through the little loophole again.
It’s not exactly hard for the others to tell.
Lolo hasn’t been looking great. Sure, he’s all pressed and dressed, glasses perfectly in place, tie done up just so, walking around like everything’s just totally and completely fine, but it’s in his face. Object impermanence aside, normally when Remus bugs him, he reacts in some way.
Sass is an emotional response and you won’t convince him otherwise.
Whether it be a wry comment, effortlessly fixing whatever Remus has done to him this time, or even just a look, Lolo does something.
Not anymore.
Now he’ll just kind of…sigh and move on? He’ll fix whatever it is only if it’s directly interfering with what he’s trying to do, or when Patton or Virgil come round the corner and freak the fuck out because you’re bleeding! Then he’ll fix it.
Remus wouldn’t say he’s bored, but he’s worried.
Mainly because the intrusive thoughts…aren’t what he’d consider intrusive anymore.
Take a shower.
Eat something that isn’t just a granola bar.
Go to sleep.
Ask someone for help.
See?
If those are Lolo’s intrusive thoughts, then what the fuck is normally going on in his head?
Remus waits. Waits. Keeps waiting.
The instant his mouth tastes like ink again, with a question of whether or not Logan should take a break, he sinks straight into his shower. He washes his hair thoroughly, gets every single bit of grime off him he can, and puts on the softest pajamas he has—thank you, Roman—and drops himself outside of Logan’s door.
He strains, mouth still full of ink, to hear anything other than the soft click, click, click of Logan’s keyboard.
He can’t.
Fuck.
He knocks.
“One moment, please.”
Indeed, a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Logan, looking as annoyingly pristine as he always does, surprised to see him.
“Remus? Did you need something? Why…” he trails off as he takes in what Remus is wearing. “What’s wrong?”
“Can I come in?”
“Of—of course,” Logan stammers, moving aside to let him in, “are you alright?”
“Should be asking you that, Lolo.”
“Remus, you’ve just knocked, first of all, on my door and asked to come inside.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he sits at his desk. “This is extremely out of character for you.”
“Uh-huh.” Remus flops onto the bed. “You know what else is out of character?”
“Not wearing your costume?”
“Not hearing intrusive thoughts.”
Logan’s eyes widen. “Has—is there something wrong? Are you not hearing any? Do I need to get Roman?”
Remus frowns. “Why’s it so easy for you to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Care. Try and take care of me.”
Logan blinks. “Because you deserve to be taken care of, Remus. Your needs are important.”
Remus idly toys with a loose thread on one sleeve. “Why?”
“Why? Why are you important?” Remus nods. “Because you’re—you’re an important part of Thomas, you’re important to us, and we care about you.”
“So it’s easy for you to care for me because…you do?”
“As simple as that sounds,” Logan says with all the softness that should be directed at himself, “yes.”
Remus nods. “I’m not having problems with hearing intrusive thoughts.”
“You’re—you’re not?” Logan sighs, relaxing a little back into his chair. “Then why did you say you were?”
“Because the thoughts that I am hearing aren’t really what I’d consider intrusive.”
Logan frowns. “Like what?”
Glad you fucking asked.
“‘Take a shower,’” Remus says, his eyes fixed firmly on Logan’s face, “'eat something,’ ‘take a break,’ ‘go to sleep.’”
He watches Logan’s face tense.
“Sound familiar, Lolo?”
“You—I—my apologies,” Logan manages after a moment, adjusting his tie, “I did not mean to be an inconvenience. You are correct, those are not intrusive thoughts, I’m not sure why you’re hearing them.”
He turns to his desk and begins to fish around for a notebook.
“That is quite intriguing, I wonder what the possibilities for hearing other types of thoughts are, considering—“
“Lolo.”
Logan pauses, turning back. “Yes?”
Remus fixes him with a look, getting up and walking toward him. “They are intrusive thoughts, Logan. The issue is that your intrusive thoughts are about you taking care of yourself.”
Logan freezes.
“W-well, I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“So either you can admit that was a lie or Janny’s about to get summoned.”
“Remus,” Logan sighs, “it’s fine. As you said, these aren’t what are traditionally considered intrusive thoughts, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“No, Lolo, it is,” Remus argues, “because it means that the thought of you taking care of yourself is so foreign, so fucking out of the ordinary that not only does it happen to cross your mind—“ he takes Logan’s chair and spins it around— “but you try to force it out.”
Gotcha.
Logan looks anywhere other than Remus’s face and tries to stand. Only to wobble and crash back down.
“Easy,” Remus says quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you haven’t eaten in a while.”
“But I have work.”
“But you need food.”
“Remus—“
“Logan.”
At Logan’s honest-to-fuck pout, he sighs, dragging the poor nerd up and out the chair and sitting him on the bed.
“Why do you think you don’t deserve to be taken care of?”
“I didn’t say that—hey!” Logan blinks up at him, scandalized and covering his stomach. “Why did you poke me?”
“’S what I do when Janny won’t tell me the truth.”
“I wasn’t—okay, okay!” Logan covers his stomach protectively as Remus readies another poke. “I just…I’ve already asked for help for this before. I shouldn’t have to again.”
Remus sighs and lightly flicks the side of his head.
“Hey!”
“Virgil tries that too.” He stares hard at Logan. “Come on, Lolo, you can do better.”
“It’s not your jobs to take care of me.”
For fuck’s sake…
Remus reaches out and tugs gently on Logan’s tie.
“Remus, what—“
“You taking more books outta Patton’s library now?” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Lolo, just be honest.”
“I am being honest!”
“You’re not lying, but you’re not being honest.” At the poor nerd’s confusion, he sighs and fixes his glasses on that cute nose. “Just talk to me, Lolo.”
“I—“ Logan sighs and oh fuck why does he look so tired?
Well, because he hasn’t been sleeping.
Or eating.
Or taking care of himself.
Unbidden, part of his conversation with Roman flashes into his head.
“Self-harm can be self-denial too.”
“Lolo?”
“It’s bad enough that I’ve made you all worry about me,” Logan says finally, “I would hate to be a burden.”
Oh, Lolo. “You and Roman, huh?”
Logan looks up warily. “What do you do with Roman?”
“You know what I do.”
Logan sighs. “May at least take my glasses off first?”
“You might wanna change too, I’m not letting you up for a while.”
Logan stretches to place his glasses on the nightstand and poofs himself into a t-shirt and boxers. He sighs and opens his arms.
Remus takes two running steps and tackles the poor nerd onto his bed.
“Ah!”
“Am I hurting you?”
“No, no, just—just a little startled.”
“Mm.” Remus snuggles closer into Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around him. “So. Wanna try one more time?”
Logan sighs, deflating them both to the bed. His head lolls to his left, eyes on his open computer screen. Remus follows it, barely suppressing a growl as he stretches his arm out to save whatever’s on screen and shut it.
“I know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Logan whispers, “I understand the process, I am aware that healing is not a linear concept, I know it’s going to take time, I—I understand.”
Remus looks down, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “But?”
“It’s hard,” comes the soft confession.
Oh, Lolo.
“I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug him properly, “I know, Lolo, I know it’s hard. But you can’t try and do it all yourself, you’ve gotta remember that we’re here for you, we care about you.”
“But why?”
Remus smiles and cuddles him tighter. “You said it yourself, Lolo. We care because we do.”
“O-oh.” He feels Logan’s throat work as he swallows. “Thank you, Remus.”
“Of course, Lolo. I’m guessing that sinking us to the living room so everyone else can spoil you is a bad idea, right?”
“Yes.” Finally, finally, he feels Logan shyly tighten his grip on him. “Can we just…stay like this?”
“Do I have your permission to hold you hostage until you fall asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Then go to sleep, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”
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#dragonbabbles#fic#sanders sides#logan sanders#remus sanders#sympathetic remus#janus sanders#deceit sanders#sympathetic deceit#roman sanders#logan angst#virgil sanders#patton sanders#self harm#tw self harm#tw: self harm
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Story Prompt: Mina does the Coke and Mentos challenge and ends up with a bubbly belchy belly afterwards.
Warning: contains belly kink bloating burps fluff hiccups indigestion nausea tummy play tummy rubs
"Is it recording?" Mina asked in her casual wares standing in a field.
Kirishima gave a thumbs up from behind his phone whilst recording his girlfriend.
Mina grinned and waved back at the camera. "Hiiiii guys! Soooo we read your comments on the last challenge video and since so many of you requested it we're gonna tackle the coke and mentos challenge!" She held up a thick 2 liter bottle of diet coke with a pack of mentos. "Seems easy enough don'tcha think?"
"You got this dude!" Kirishima encouraged her from behind the camera.
"Let's find out!" Mina said excitedly then pouted at the camera. "If I get sick though I'm totally blaming this on Mineta. Don't act like you weren't one of the commentators you little purple creep!"
Her pout turned to an eager and confident grin.
"Anyway! Let's do this!"
She opened the mentos pack and popped a mentos into her mouth.
"Now I keep hearing mixed things that you're not supposed to chew them or anything right? So," she dipped her head back and swallowed the mentos whole which made a tiny lump emerge from the front of her pink neck until it sank down her gullet with a light squelch. Mina popped another mentos into her mouth and did the same thing of swallowing it whole. She did that for about five or six mentos then huffed softly. "Wow swallowing those whole doesn't feel the best," she complained rubbing her throat softly but that discomfort was short lived. "But that should make them more reactive so lets get this challenge started for reals!"
Now came the fun part.
Mina cracked open her 2 liter bottle of diet coke and lifted it up to her lips so she could begin chugging it down. She rested her eyes shut as she took in big thick gulps of soda. Her throat throbbed and rippled with the passage of fizzy diet sugar water flowing down her gullet all at once.
"Wow you're really guzzlin' that stuff down!" Kirishima exclaimed with an impressed whistle.
Mina continued chugging at an impressive rate. She got the soda down to its label in one go without stopping and Kirishima cheering her on for every second of her chugging.
Eventually she pulled the bottle away and panted so heavily that some soda dribbled from her mouth. In the midst of her panting she gave a short but foamy sounding burp. She covered her mouth after then immediately blew her hand back with a massive burp. That one belted out of her so hard that Kirishima would've sworn that even he could feel it.
The boy laughed heavily behind the camera. "Gahahahah! Dude nice! That was real manly!"
"Whew! Wow!" Mina exclaimed and patted her tummy in an impressed sort of way. "Ungh man that was so loud!"
"How're ya feelin' so far?" Kirishima asked.
Mina rubbed her stomach experimentally and pouted in contemplation. "Kinda full but..." she paused while she rubbed and gave a look of discomfort. Then she gripped her stomach a little more firmly and gave another powerful burp that left her panting and left Kirishima laughing. "Unf...'kay I'm definitely feelin' a lil bubbly," Mina admitted and rubbed her belly gently from side to side. Then she grinned again. "But nothin' I can't handle!"
So she went back to swigging her beverage down. Mina could always get a lot of liquids down since her body burned through whatever she ate slightly faster from the acid she secretes warming her body temperature up. The more soda filled her tummy up though the more the mentos began to react. By not chewing them up first those minty shells fizzed with the soda in her stomach and reacted much more violently than they otherwise would have. It was getting so bad that Kirishima could actually hear Mina's belly gurgling from where he was standing.
"Dude I think I can actually hear yer stomach gurglin'! This is pretty intense ain't it," Kirishima asked.
Mina nodded while she chugged her bottle down. One hand rested on her tummy and rubbed it softly up and down. It was beginning to look bloated from both the soda she's downed and all the bubbles filling her up. And the churning noises were only getting louder by the second.
She eventually had to pull away again and catch her breath. Only for a grizzly sounding burp to erupt out of her mouth with extreme force. Mina gasped when that one left her system then patted her belly and burped again. "Oooh dude I don't feel good," Mina complained and held her bloated tummy with both hands. She held a hand over her mouth and gave an incredibly thick closed mouth burp.
Kirishima frowned with concern for her girlfriend. "D'ya wanna stop? We can take a break or call it quits. I don't want'cha gettin' sick or anything."
But Mina shook her head. She opened her mouth to start speaking but ended up burping hard instead which made her cover her mouth. "Nuh uh. Plus ultra right? It's just some silly challenge. Nothing we can't-" Mina interrupted herself with a large burp then covered her mouth again. "...Unf...handle."
She brought the bottle stubbornly to her lips and was about to chug but had to stop and burp again. One thing was certain this challenge was making her incredibly gassy. But that didn't stop her.
Mina powered on through. She guzzled the drink down while the fizz in her belly intensified. Her stomach was expanding more from the carbonation and all the soda she was drinking to the point where her normally flat tummy was looking a little round behind her tight shirt.
She continued chugging with a fiery look of determination in her eyes.
Kirishima cheered her on inspired by that very determination. "You got this dude! What's a lil soda compared to a hero right?!"
...He got really inspired by her determination.
It was getting painful though. The churning bubbling in Mina's tummy was growing aggressive with a sickly acidity to it. It made her throat feel sour and raw with a light burning in her chest.
But still Mina chugged on without any signs of quitting.
Until she somehow managed to down every last drop of the bottle. After swallowing the rest down she flipped the bottle upside down and shook it to show not a drop fall out.
"Ha! Done...!" Mina panted confidently yet exhaustedly. Suddenly she dropped the bottle and her hands flew to her belly in time for the girl to unleash the single loudest and longest burp she'd ever uttered clocking in at ten seconds straight!
Kirishima fell in love with her all over again.
"...Dude. That was the manliest thing I've ever seen...!" he muttered in absolute awe.
Mina just gasped like she was out of breath then burped again.
"God I feel so bloated," Mina moaned and took a moment to massage her bloated tummy with both hands. But she managed a grin back at the camera. "Okay guys! Challenge beaten!" She paused to give a really deep closed mouth burp that rumbled heavily behind her lips. "Ungh...mostly. Anyway! If you have any other challenges you wanna see me or my boyfriend doing hit us up in the comments below! And as always th-aaAAAAAANKsss-for watching...!"
Kirishima snickered when Mina accidentally burped the word 'thanks' out but that seemed like as good a time as any to stop recording.
The second he did Kirishima put the phone in his pocket and helped Mina sit down on the grass so he could help her feel a little better. He very gently started to rub her tummy up and down while she leaned back and groaned.
"Ooooooh I don't feel good..." Mina groaned out. Her stomach gurgled thickly in agreement.
"I'll bet. That sounds gnarly..." Kirishima admitted. He gently rubbed over the rounded crest of Mina's stomach using the heel of his palm to knead into it as he rubbed. "Still. Ya did a real good job! That was so manly the way ya powered through yer own discomfort like that!"
Mina turned her head and held a fist against her mouth in time to let rip a big closed mouth burp that she could barely contain behind her lips. The sound rumbled in her mouth heavily for a few seconds and left her breezily blowing the gas off to the side. "Unnngh...urhp...I'd call it a draw really. The challenge is kinda kicking my butt right now..."
"Naw you got this," Kirishima encouraged her and kneaded an especially tense part of her belly. The burp that the pink girl released after that was so strong that even Kirishima could feel it reverberating in his own body.
"Ohhhh that felt good," Mina moaned palming the side of her tummy in a deeply satisfied way.
Kirishima grinned while he kneaded her belly some more to help work more gas out. "Hahah~ I love that."
"What me burping?"
"Naw! Like-well okay that's pretty awesome too-but like the way ya don't get all embarrassed by it even though we're out in public. It's so fearless and manly!"
Mina giggled and instantly regretted it when the giggles jiggled her tummy around and made her hiccup. She covered her mouth but managed a grin back at Kirishima. "Got a thing for tomboys do ya?"
The red-haired boy scratched his cheek and blushed lightly. "...Kinda."
"Well for the record I have a thing for manly boys like you. So..."
Mina leaned over and kissed Kirishima's cheek making the boy blush even harder than he already was.
She grinned satisfied but her belly gave another painfully gaseous grumble that left her groaning with discomfort. "Ohhhh man that still feels rough..."
"Here lemme help," Kirishima said.
He eagerly kneaded into Mina's tummy sliding his hand under her shirt so he could knead his fingers directly against her soft pink stomach. His fingers were hardened ever so slightly by focusing his hardening quirk into them. Kirishima compressed them into the tightest part of Mina's belly hoping to unknot her stomach muscles.
But in the process of pressing into her belly like that he dislodged a sizable pressure pocket.
Mina lurched sharply when that happened and covered her mouth like she was about to be sick. Instead her hand was blown back as she let out a giant record breaking burp. It carried on for several seconds. Not as long as that ten second burp she gave when she finished the bottle but around there and arguably louder and gassier. In fact Kirishima could feel the gas exiting so hard from her stomach that he felt her flesh jiggle ever so slightly. The feeling had him blushing even harder.
When that enormous gas bubble had been dislodged from her tummy Mina gasped breathlessly like a weight had been lifted from her stomach. Then she slapped her belly with one hand and gave another huge burp. And with that came another long throaty burp. That massive displacement of air caused the rest of the air in her stomach to come rushing up.
After letting out one last especially lengthy burp Mina flopped backwards onto her back with her arms at her sides and sighed heavily.
"Hhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh...ohhhhh that feels soooooooo much better..."
Kirishima grinned a big fang-filled grin and gave her a thumbs up. "Dude that was epic!"
Mina smiled heavenly back at Kirishima. "Couldn't have done it without my manly man's help."
At this rate Kirishima was blushing so hard that his face was matching his red hair after a while.
#kink fic#mina ashido#eijiro kirishima#mina x kirishima#belly kink#tummy rub#bloating#chugging#soda chug#coke and mentos bloat#burping#fluff#tummy noises#indigestion#nausea
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