#sorry I’m sick so my brain is bouncing off the walls | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dejavew · 2 years

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Thank the Skies

jungkook x reader

wc: 1705

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers.

also, this is my first ever imagine. im still new to this stuff. i know its a bit messy, but why not post it anyway.

summary: When it rains, Jungkook is there to take care of you.

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Every two months, it rains.

Not only does it rain, but it rains hard. You swear you could see the concrete eroding each time it rains each month. The rain clicks hard on your roof, windows, walls, and in some houses leaks through the ceiling. The windows were splotchy with droplets of tears from the sky, and yet again you sigh to yourself wishing for it to be over.

You swear you weren’t normal. Not one brain cell out of you could figure out why your immune system was weak. You wished you’d bought some extra tissue paper for the rest of the week, cringing at the fact that you were gonna have to tell your best friend to grab some on his way over to your place.

You could practically hear his lecture in the future and the pout placed right on your lips.

“Seriously, Y/N. Again? you’ve been going through this all your life, and all you could do is huddle on the kitchen chair and watch the rain?”

You tsked at yourself, mad at how irresponsible you can be. It wasn’t like a thought could stick with you forever in your mind reminding you how embarrassingly weak your immune system is.

Your mom thought it was cute though. She loved the thought of you needing her help, and unlike every parent—She smiled when she saw the sky bleed into the shades of gray, with or without the sun by her side.

The rain per se wasn’t complicated, it was the fact that your wallet would suffer from the constant need of tissues and medicine treated for colds.

Your heart drops down to the floor at the thought of medicine. You quickly jumped from your seat, feet racing to the medicine cabinet in your bathroom, eyes traveling everywhere when you spot it. Still stocked with enough to last you the couple of days of sickness, you let out a relieved sigh, and carry on back to where you first started.

The closer you got back to the kitchen, the louder the vibration got. Your phone, bouncing around the table, was telling you that you’ve got an incoming call from no other than your best friend.

Jungkook.

Reluctantly, you answered, knowing he was going to see you anyway.

“What do you want?” A sad tone slips out your throat.

“Woah, I didn’t think you’d get sick this quick. A record to mark down?” His playful words taunt you.

“Sorry. The rain got me in a bad mood, and you just so happened to witness it.” You start to play with the hem of your shirt.

“Alright listen. I’m about to leave—“

“Wait! Before you do, could you pick up some tissue paper for me please?”

Jungkook grumbles to himself, your ears only able to hear some part of it, which was only him complaining at your habit of cutting people off mid sentence.

“If you had let me finish, then you would know I was leaving the store with your damn tissues.” Your cheeks blush. “Who knew these boxes would cost so much?”

You wished you had blushed at the thought of your small habit and how embarrassing it is, but really the thought that Jungkook had thought about you was endearing enough to bring out the red in your cheeks.

As much as your organs were one of your major problems in life, you also had minor problems as well. You liked Jungkook.

You admired him from afar, up close, and even when he noticed. Before you guys graduated high school, he made you promise him to never stop keeping in touch with him. Which was honestly not so hard to do—seeing how much time you guys spend time with each other.

You listen to his small ramble of inflation, and why the store was packed on a rainy day like this, that you had to bring out your habit again.

“Kook.” He doesn’t stop at his nickname.

“Koook.” His voice doesn’t even falter one bit.

“Jungkook!” He stops his little rant. “Oh, what’s the problem?” He asks innocently.

“Just get here okay. The longer you ramble about the prices of those tissue paper, the longer you have to be in that packed store okay?”

Without even saying a goodbye, he hangs up, causing you to shake your head.

Once again, your phone was black screened, until a small little notification pops up with his name on it.

JK: I just realized how rude it was to just hang up without saying goodbye.

JK: So that was my apology.

JK: And this is my goodbye.

You replied telling him to hurry up and to get here safe, and within a matter of minutes, the door knocks leaving you to get up and open the door.

“Jungkook. Why are you drenched?” He pants a bit, smiling when he sees your face. “I parked a bit further back. I didn’t want to take my time trying to perfect my parking—so I ran.”

“No! I’ll get sick if you touch me.” He tries to go in for a small hug, but when you refuse you swear his smile falters, but nonetheless you shrug it off knowing how sensitive he could be.

“What’s the point if you’re going to get sick anyways?” He drops the plastic bag on the table.

He obviously had a valid point. You just didn’t want your little crush on him to advance more. You ignored him, moving towards the couch, with him right behind you.

Times like these always reminded you of your younger selves sticking to each other with adhesive glue. He’d follow you around, making sure you were safe, watching over you, to be cautious of your actions, and even from afar when you weren’t around him—his eyes were there to ensure your safety.

You two were known as the clueless duo. Everyone around you saw as clear as day how much love you guys carried for each other, but yet not one of you dared to say anything about it.

“It’s because she understands me.” He’d say.

“He’s the closest thing to my heart.” You’d smile at them.

Although sitting next to each other was pretty much normal, your hearts couldn’t help but accelerate through the time being. It was funny how silent the world could be, but your hearts were never beat laugh enough for the other person to hear.

Two years ago, Jungkook noticed how pretty you looked. For fourteen years the thought of your beauty never stuck in his mind, until he actually admired you for the first time.

He wishes he could recollect what happened that day, but all he could remember is how pretty you looked. It’s like his eyes had the sight over 20/20 vision, he could basically dissect each and atom all over your body. He saw the lines and wrinkles on the corner of your mouth, your natural skin glowing. He couldn’t fathom the way you sat in your spot vibrant than anyone in that damn room. Your eyes—oh your eyes were his favorite.

They sparkled like fireworks burning through the sky, he loved the glossiness of it, reflecting the love that brewed inside your heart. He loved your eyes because no matter how many changes your body goes through, your eyes reminded him what you made him feel.

You made him feel like he was home.

He loved you when you both were seven, and he loved you back when you were fifteen. He loved you when both reached eighteen, but he liked you once you were twenty.

So when you both sat on the couch for about five minutes, he couldn’t help, but let out a simple: “I like you.”

Your eyes met his, making him feel all warm inside. Your words, unable to move from your throat, and your thoughts rammed through the tunnels of your mind. You forgot about the eroded concrete on the ground outside, or that the windows were barely see through, you ignored the sounds of droplets drumming on your roof, but will remember what love could feel like.

It felt like a refreshing nap after a fun, tiring day. It felt like a cold shower after one of the hottest days of summer. The cool breeze you felt, while the sun heats you up, that’s what love felt like. Love felt like everything you needed, not what you wanted.

And so, you looked back at him with your beautiful eyes, smiling with the love that spewed out of you and whispered back, “I like you too.”

He closed the gap between the two of you, letting his lips kiss yours. Laughing in between at how ironic it was that you wouldn’t hug him earlier, but yet you still let him kiss you.

The next day was different. You woke up with the sun peering through the window as if the sky wasn’t crying from yesterday. You steadily got up and to your surprise, your body was functioning healthily. You turn to wake Jungkook up to the good news, but realize his body wrapped up in a blanket, heating his body up from the ‘cold’.

Placing your hand on his forehead, his head was burning up. A small gasp leaves your mouth and quickly, you make a move towards the kitchen to grab the bag full of stuff he had bought from the store. You glanced inside, heart swelling as you spot a small little plushy, a bunny to be exact.

“Kookie, you're sick.” Although you caught colds, you weren’t new to the fever department at all. His eyes groggily opened up, and you did your best to take care of him.

You finally knew why your mom felt happy when you felt sick. You felt the feeling of love through the times she helped blow your nose into a tissue, fed you in bed, and tended to you when you needed to. For the first time ever you never got sick after it rained.

You smiled at the sick boy in your bed, and just like the concrete on the road, your heart eroded into something that resembled the look of love.

Thank the skies that it rained every two months.

#jeon jeongguk #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #bts fluff #bangtan

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the-archangel · 1 year

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V’s Christmas Presents

[Notes: I’m sorry (not sorry) but I unashamedly love this piece of festive fluff and couldn’t wait to share it with you. My only regret is that I’m rubbish at drawing and unable to create the photos described in the detail they have in my brain, I’ve tried through words but it’s not quite the same. The photo’s came first, I wrote the story to make sense of them, I hope you enjoy it.]

Christmas isn’t a big thing in NC. Outside, in the NUSA proper, folks might decorate their homes with lights or gather the family for a big feast, but Night City has enough garish lights, and over-indulgence – in all things – isn’t saved for one day. There are a few religious types who still honour the day in their own way, but generally it was an ordinary day, though you might invite friends around for a drink, or give the kids a few extra eddies.

Johnny Silverhand was sat with his boots up on the desk in V’s old apartment angrily bouncing a rubber ball from the floor to the bathroom wall and back again. He’d seen enough of Christmas to know it for the Corpo, money-grabbing fuckery that it was, but this year he was going to have to do something nice for it and that was making him mad.

Kerry Eurodyne had also experienced Christmas outside of NC, and knew it for the fluffy, twinkly, joyful time that it was and couldn’t wait to introduce V to the whole idea. For the last couple of years his input had been too sick for any festivities, firstly as the relic messed with his brain, then as he was recovering, so this year it was going to be special.

V couldn’t remember much about his childhood, or of anything much before the relic nearly took over his brain just over 3 years ago, but suspected Christmas hadn’t been a big thing. He’d read about it of course, seen pictures, but if Kerry was into it then he’d give it a go – like most things.

Gratitude didn’t come easy to Johnny, saying ‘thanks’ without sounding sarcastic was a trick that he rarely pulled off, but this year he had something to be thankful for. V’s tenacity and Kerry’s eddies had literally brought him back from the dead, and for that, goddamn, he was grateful. He wanted to get them something, something that showed them how he felt, but without him ever having to say the words (cuz even though he felt it, they would still stick in his throat), but what do you get the NC power couple who have everything? Between them, they had more power, eddies and influence than pretty much anyone in town, a fruit basket wasn’t going to cut it.

He had the beginnings of an idea, but no clue how to pull it off. He needed help; this is why he’s sat at V’s old laptop cursing and drinking tequila. Johnny was just ancient enough to remember the old days, when the internet was actually useful for buying stuff and finding people who did shit, but this NC intranet crap was grinding his gears and taking him around in circles. He started messing around, looking for a distraction and noticed a bunch of old messages still in V’s inbox. He shouldn’t look really, but what the hell, he’s seen them already when he was in V’s head, so what’s the difference? Mostly they’re dull, but one of them is from a name he recognises from those days, ‘Hmm, Judy...?’

Kerry has known what he’s getting for V for weeks; he absolutely can’t wait to start the preparations.

With just a couple of weeks to go to Christmas, everything is pretty much in place and Kerry can relax into planning the decorations for the penthouse and ordering the food and drinks for the big day which takes up most of the morning. With the afternoon comes a lift-packed with packages and boxes, and one happy rock star ready to get stuck into decorating every inch of the living-space. Reality sets in soon after and Kerry directs from the sofa as a couple of the building’s porters rush around with lights, baubles and greenery for a fat tip. Kerry looks around, the warm glow of the lights twinkle in his eyes, he can’t wait for V to see this.

V had no idea what Kerry was planning, either for the house or for his Christmas gift. He was vaguely aware that he should probably get something for his boyfriend, but he’d never bought a gift in his life and no-one at the Afterlife was any help, so the thought slowly slipped out of his mind. He was looking forward to getting home though, Kerry had messaged him that he had a surprise for him, and that was always something to look forward to.

‘Festooned’ isn’t a word that V had ever heard, but if he had that is what would be on the tip of his tongue as he steps out of the lift. Every nook, cranny and surface of the penthouse had lights, candles, garlands and trimmings all over it. There were three ceiling height trees around the living space lit with golden lights and covered with silver baubles as well as a full-sized golden reindeer in the corner. V stopped in the doorway and stared.

“Well, what do you think?” asks Kerry, running towards him with tinsel wrapped around his waist.

“I think.....” V swallows, “I think it’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He says spinning Kerry around and pulling him in by the tinsel for a kiss under the mistletoe.

With a week to go, Johnny’s plan is coming together. Once he’d explained to Judy who he was, and she’d got it off her chest what she thought of him, they actually worked quite well together. Judy helped him find what he needed and he would pick out what was important and then she’d help him put it all together how he wanted it. He was surprised how much he enjoyed the process and thought that he would ask Judy to show him more of what she knew after this as an added string to his bow in his new merc life.

Kerry and V had invited him round for Christmas, at first he wasn’t sure, not his scene playing happy families, but he owed them, he even kinda loved them, so he agreed. ‘Definitely gonna delta as soon as I give them this though.’ He thought to himself.

That evening, the three friends go out to a restaurant, just because. It’s something that they make time to do every few weeks or so, otherwise V and Johnny would only see each other at work and Johnny would try to avoid seeing Kerry at all (guilt issues amongst other things). Kerry goes out onto the balcony for a smoke and to look down at the city, he’s joined by a good-looking, well-dressed corpo type, clearly out to bag themselves a millionaire rock star – or a story for the screamsheets. V watches quietly as Kerry chats and flirts...

“Doesn’t it get you mad?” asks Johnny, looking down on the scene.

“...No, not mad. I mean, who wouldn’t want to try it on with him? As far as they know he’s fair game...” V drifts off, still staring at the Rockerboy (his Rockerboy) below.

Kerry’s relationships had always been fodder for the screamsheets and feeds, but his relationship with V had pretty much flown under their radar, though there had been rumours around for years that he was attached, and some very rare photos of them together, they had both been very careful to keep their relationship private from all but their close friends. This was partly because Kerry was done with bullshit invasions into his private life, but mostly because V’s involvement in the 2077 Arasaka takedown was something that still could get him flatlined if he was discovered, so a low profile was necessary to keep them both safe from retaliation.

The friends watch as Kerry finishes his cigarette, makes his excuses and winds his way back to their table.

“They seemed nice” Johnny sneered.

“They were I guess, but also drunk, boring and grabby, ugh.” Kerry replies wiping a wet handprint off the front of his jacket with a napkin. “Let’s delta, I’m done.”

Finally, it's Christmas Eve, V and Kerry have given themselves a few days off and are sharing a cigarette, curled up together still in bed. “I’ve got a photo shoot booked in for this morning, I’ll get the coffee while you get a shower”, Kerry tells his confused input before kissing him on the nose and jumping out of bed.

“I thought that you’d cleared your diary”, V says trying to hide the disappointment in his voice, “...and why am I coming to your photo shoot?”

“You’ll see!” Shouts Kerry from the kitchen. “Just get in the shower and wear something... nice.”

Johnny’s surprise for his friends was ready. It’s better than he had imagined and he just wished Judy was actually in NC to give her a big hug, though when he’d told her this she didn’t look too keen now he thinks about it. Anyway, for the first time in forever Johnny Silverhand is actually looking forwards to Christmas.

Christmas morning arrives... and then disappears again. Kerry is gently snoring in V’s arms and Johnny is passed out in V’s old bed well into early afternoon. V opens one eye sleepily as he hears the concierge and porters downstairs bringing in the food and drinks Kerry had ordered and then snuggles back into him smiling, it’s just too cosy to get up from. A little while later, Kerry awakens and looks up into V’s face, he’s still wearing the stupid, beautiful smile he’s had on there since yesterday, this is nova, but there’s stuff to be done, so with a kiss, he slides out of bed into the shower, gets dressed and then goes downstairs and gleefully unpacks the various, exotic and eclectic foods and drinks that clutter the dining area. When V finally emerges some time later, Kerry is putting on the finishing touches to the table, V slides his hands around his waist and kisses his neck,

“Merry Christmas Ker.”

“Mmm, Merry Christmas to you too baby.” Kerry purrs as he turns in his lovers arms, frames his face in his hands and kisses him deeply. Johnny is due in a few minutes so they keep it together – though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked in on them – not by a long way.

Johnny arrives uncharacteristically promptly and swaggers out of the lift before taking off his shades removing his cigarette from his lips and looking around the room. “Shit Kerry, did a glitter factory explode in your condo? “

“Very funny, here sit down; I’ll get you a drink, tequila, bitters, splash of beer and a chilli twist yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Johnny replies, still looking incredulously at the decorations covering every surface.

“So V,” asks Johnny while Kerry fixes the drink, “what did you end up getting him for Christmas?”

V rubs his wrists absently and thinks back 14 hours or so ago to being tied to the bed with Christmas ribbon and Kerry discovering a massive gift tag tied to V’s dick reading ‘To Ker, do not open til Christmas, All my love, V xxxxxx.’

“Erm, .....”

“Drinks!”

Johnny sees the look of relief on V’s face and knows him well enough not to ask again.

Kerry returns with drinks for them all, and with plates of food all of which he plonks onto the coffee table before sliding onto V’s lap and nuzzling into his neck, V squeezes him tightly and they whisper together, smiling and looking into each other’s eyes.

Johnny is pretty used to them kissing in front of him and patting each other’s asses, but this PDA is unusual even for them, if it wasn’t so sappy, it’d be quite sweet in a nauseating and gross kinda way.

To break the tension – that only he is feeling – Johnny leans forward and blurts, “What was this gift you were so excited about giving V then Ker?”

Kerry and V look at each other and smile with raised eyebrows, “Didn’t you see it yet? Christ it’s everywhere...” Kerry giggles. “Put the Entertainment News Network on, Shit Johnny how have you not seen it??”

“Been busy sleeping off a hangover...” Johnny replies as he blinks on the feed.

“.......Rock superstar Kerry Eurodyne has delighted fans this morning with a rare update on his much discussed relationship status, though some might be disappointed to find he is now officially...taken! These gorgeous photos were published to his website earlier today...”

The holo shows two photos, both artfully shot in mostly black and white, the first is of the back of V’s broad naked shoulders, Kerry is looking over V’s right shoulder with an intense stare right down the camera, V’s head is down and Kerry has one hand gripping the hair on the back of his neck and the other flat on V’s back. The only colour is the blue of his eyes, the gold of his implants and of the only jewellery he is wearing, a broad gold ring studded with emeralds. V has ‘mainline’ written across his shoulders in eyeliner.

The second is of Kerry’s back, V’s face is discreetly hidden in Kerry’s neck so that only the top of his head can be seen and Kerry’s head is turned towards him, his cheek in his hair, one of V’s hands clutches Kerry’s naked butt cheek, the other grips his back, as if it’s about to scratch down, the only colour here is a matching, dark platinum, sapphire ring on his left hand and ‘mainline’ written in red lipstick down the middle of Kerry’s spine.

“...this is all so ‘on brand’ for Eurodyne, but damn him for being so mysterious. Who is this lucky mystery man is what we all want to know...”

Johnny flicks off the feed and looks over at them, only now noticing the matching rings and resisting the urge to tell them it looks like an aftershave commercial he says, “So, are you two getting married or some lame shit? Cuz if.........”

Kerry laughs, swinging on V’s neck, “God no, never again.”

“No way,” V agrees whilst nibbling on Kerry’s ear.”We’re just....” he shrugs as if looking for the right words, “each other’s forever,” he finishes grinning down at Kerry, who gives him an indulgent smile and a kiss on the chin.

“And this is for you Johnny.” Says Kerry as V slides a box across the floor towards him.

Johnny could count on his one good hand how many presents he’d had in his adult life, this was unexpected.

“What is it?” he says staring.

V laughs as Johnny picks up the box and looks through it.

“Some psychofan in The Glen had all that in his apartment, do you remember? I was sent there to klep Kerry’s guitar, but you talked me into taking all this other stuff...”

In the box was disks, posters, a couple of old DVD’s and a pair of Johnny’s old leather pants. He held them up, looking at them critically.

“I sure as shit have some style don’t I?”

Johnny was getting more sure by the second that his decision to give them their gift and delta was the right one, this was all getting too sweet and sickly for his tastes.

“So... I made you this.” He drawls throwing a paper bag with the top folded down in the couple’s general direction.

V catches it and looks inside, he looks at Johnny quizzically, then up at Kerry, before showing him what’s inside the bag.

“Start them at the same time, have fun and...Merry Christmas.” He mutters almost angrily, unused to showing such displays of emotion.

V and Kerry pluck a BD wreath from the bag, each with a shard already loaded. They put them on and shift in their seat until they are lying curled around each other, with a last look into the other’s eyes they switch on....

The first scene has no sound, but shows a teenage Kerry in his bedroom, playing a song on his acoustic guitar with his black hair falling over a face screwed up in concentration, listening for the chords, finding the music. Next a loud, screaming chord makes them both jump and they’re in a garage, Kerry, still only a teenager is playing with his first band, already better than the much older guys that he’s playing with. V is mesmerised by the confidence of the young man’s playing and by the depths of the brown eyes that he was seeing for the first time. A time jump and Kerry gasps as they’re there the first time he meets Johnny, both sat crossed legged ignoring the party going on around them, sharing a cigarette, playing guitars and laughing, then on to Samurai’s first gig, V almost can’t believe how beautiful Kerry is with his hair cascading down his back, now held from his gorgeous eyes with his trademark bandana. Song follows amazing song as the BD flips through Samurai’s various looks, tours and back catalogue, until a montage of Kerry’s solo stage work ,makes V grin and hold onto his mainline all the tighter. The film finishes with a clip that Judy must’ve taken at some point, but that V didn’t really recall. They’re sat in some diner, she asks him why he’s not eating and he looks up at her biting his lip and smiling,

“I’ve met someone Jude, it’s early days but...we just get each other. I think...I think I’m in love.”

It takes a moment for them to remove the wreaths, Kerry is the first to look across to where Johnny was sat, but registers no surprise when he sees he’s gone. He looks down at V smiling,

“Let’s go back to bed.”

[Note: ‘Mainline’ is a term that’s not much used in CP77, though it is in the RPG, if you’re not sure, it means a serious, long term partner.]

#kerry eurodyne x male v #cyberpunk kerry #v cyberpunk #kerry x male v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077

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fakeloveaskblog · 1 year

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(Hi, me again. Awwwwwww! The Rems are both adorable. Also I think it’s really sweet how they got the moment to themselves.)

So I’m going to give them space to have their moment, then quietly be a fly on the wall and observe unless they address me. Let’s let them have time to themselves.

Glow Eyes

(Happy new year!)

Whenever Remus kissed someone his fingers always scrunched together out of excitement. He probably didn't even know he did it. But Remy had noticed.

It had gone a few days since their date at the art gallery and it seemed like a family of butterflies had decided to take nest in Remy's stomach ever since. It was a bit silly but they had honestly forgotten how fun kissing could be. Obviously they loved their sweet Janus kisses but it wasn't the same as them and Remus. The both of them were like excited high schoolers who had just had their first kiss. Remus could barely even remember the feeling of not having to be on edge while kissing.

(Even though his whole body was still tense whenever they kissed. If a movement was even a bit too fast he flinched back and started to babble out barely coherent reasons to why he couldn't do that right now. Baby steps and all that)

The two of them were sitting on Remus' bed while leaning closer to each other in the most awkward ways to be able to make out without clinging all over one another. He was holding his hand against their shoulder while they were bending their arm in a bit of an uncomfortable way to hold his hand.

A shudder went up Remy's back as they stopped the kiss just for a moment to catch their breathe. Their arm slipped around his waist as they moved to kiss him again. He had suddenly turned still to the point of holding his breathe.

"Do you want to stop?" Remy asked as they held up their hands as if to show they weren't going to hurt him.

Remus' eyes were wide but he didn't respond. Didn't even parse his lips.

Remy knew it probably meant he was too afraid to say no so they moved away so their legs were dangling off the edge of the bed. Remus slipped his hand into theirs and squeezed tight while staring aimlessly at a spot on the wall.

"think i got some uhm got some intrusive thoughts" He mumbled while his jaw slacked as it usually did when he was on the edge of falling into memories "know you wouldn't"

"I getya. I think I had like a nightmare last night where it was you..but you were also like a character I saw in a film last week and you were like strangling me I think but my teeth kept falling down my throat so it got like even harder to breathe I think"

"if it wasn't for it being so uhm so trauma that sounds really sick" Remus chuckled lightly while leaning his forehead against the top of their back.

"Ey girlie you're not wrong" Their leg was bouncing at immense speed "Y'know I think dreams get more vivid when the brain isn't like on drugs and stuff. You think my dreams gonna start feeling like they're lasting for days? Weeks?-"

"If you want I can..." His brain had to load a bit until he could continue the sentence "tell you a bunch of gross gore facts so your nightmares at least won't involve real memories" Remus suggested.

"Yeah well like it's like a- a withdrawal center or whatever are we sure they're gonna let me take my hormones still what if-"

"Jannie called and asked them. Remember?"

"Mhm...Right" Remy shut their eyes tight and took a deep breathe "Sorry babe I like didn't think I would get this nervous. Did I pack everything? AH shit my cane-"

"Is laying by the bag. I put a gooey monster sticker on it so you'll know it's yours the entire time" Remus smiled a little as he pressed a soft kiss against their back, right where their spine stuck out the most "Wanna make out again to distract yooouu?"

Remy turned around to meet him in a kiss and smiled when they noticed his fingers scrunching together again.

"Alright darlings I got the monster energies you asked for and Logie found some strange moss he thinks-" Janus' next word got caught in their throat as they stopped in the doorway and looked at the other two.

It still made him a bit flustered to see them kiss simply because he thought both of them were so pretty when they did.

"JANNY!" Remus exclaimed while gladly taking the monsters before kissing them on their cheek.

"BABE!! Savior in snake skin!!" Remy exclaimed just as loudly.

Their legs ached too much for them to run up and kiss him so they waited as he walked up to the bed and leant in to kiss them. They snaked their arms around his waist and jokingly pulled him in so he fell onto the bed.

At the back of their mind a voice told them that Remus would get mad at them for being too affectionate with Janus. Or that Janus would get jealous over them dating Remus. Even though the three of them had sat down to talk about their boundaries in their new poly relationship.

They tried to shake the thoughts away but somehow the words Virgil used to yell in jealous rage about them being a cheating unloveable whore kept echoing around in their skull.

Janus kissed the side of their lips and they smiled into the kiss. It dampened the echoes if only a little.

Logan came into the room carrying his car keys "Is everyone ready to go?"

"LOGIE!" Remus hugged him tightly.

"Greeting Remus. I found a patch of moss I'd like you to see later"

"Great! I made some more sketches for the spider boombox!"

"Fascinating. Remy are you ready to go the treatment clinic or do you have to keep kissing my partner for a while to get your confidence up?" Logan asked with just a hint of a joking tone.

Remy threw a pillow at him in response which he caught perfectly and threw back at them. It hit Janus instead to which they dramatically pretended to roll over and die while groaning in agonizing pain. Remus threw another pillow at them while laughing maniacally.

"Yeah...I think I'm ready to go" Remy said. Their hands where still shaking. Remus took their left hand, Janus the other and the three of them held each other closely.

By the evening the withdrawal hadn't started to kick in yet but it still felt eerie. The treatment center had a strict lights out schedule but Remy couldn't sleep. All they could do was count down to when the withdrawal would start to kick in. Their last dose had been a mix of ket and xanax and they tried to do the mental math of how many hours they had left but it already felt like their skull had been stuffed with cotton from restless stress.

Their phone had been taken away almost as soon as they signed in. They had known they would only be able to see Janus and Remus at visiting times. They had known that. But it still felt horrible to actually be without them.

They didn't want to wake up their roommate so they reached out for the sketchbook on their nightstand. (Remus had left it for them. He said doodling could be a good distraction). They took a pen and wrote a little message hoping that some watcher would be around.

'i fel kinda alone. could u get a sewing needle for me? for te art thingie remus asked me to do? or jst talk to me? please?'

#thanks for the ask!#(u can go annoy other characters as well if u want)#glow eyes #sanders sides

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timottea · 2 years

Note

hey :) could i maybe request something where timmy and the reader are in a friends with benefits kinda situation, and one day he gets really jealous of someone in reader's life so they have a huge fight but end up admitting their feelings for each other 🥺

hi!! thank you so much for your request and patience, i hope this is okay 🥺

you glance over at timothée sitting beside you. his arms are folded over his chest, foot drumming into the carpet, sharp jaw clenched as if he’s biting his tongue. bet he fucking is, he’s always got something to say.

he’s not watching the movie. sure, he’s looking at it, but all he can focus on is that goddamn buzz of your phone against the coffee table.

you grab it when it goes off yet again and timothée rolls his eyes, scrubbing both hands over his face before staring resolutely back at the tv. no comment this time? fine.

it starts to ring stubbornly in your palm. you kind of want to leave it unanswered, just to rile him further, because he’s acting so immaturely it’s almost laughable. another glance at him, your insides burn when you catch him glaring at the caller id.

“hey, what’s up?” you answer the call with his eyes on you, your chipper voice driving him up the wall. you jump off the couch, walking away so he can continue to pretend to watch the movie in peace.

by the time you return, he’s scrolling through his phone, movie paused, leg still bouncing rapidly whilst his mind races.

“you didn’t have to pause it,” you mutter, sitting back beside him and tossing the phone back onto the table.

timothée looks at you, eyes hard and stormy. “sorry for wanting to spend time with you.”

you raise your eyebrows at his tone. so that’s how this is going to go.

“you want to talk about spending time together? really?” you question.

he throws his head back, neck exposed, bruises from the night before, and you hate that you’re distracted for a moment.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“dude, you’re never—” home. “—here!” you exclaim, biting your tongue at the last second.

“well, what did you expect?” he returns, “i’m here as often as i can be, and if that’s not enough for you there’s clearly other options!”

he shoots daggers at your phone.

you laugh. you can’t help it.

“they’re my friend!”

“oh, like i’m your friend? look how that turned out!” he shouts, white-hot jealousy making his throat burn. and he knows he’s being petty and awful because this friends-with-benefits situation was a mutual decision and he’s the one who can’t commit but his mouth is too quick for his brain to catch up and all he can see is green.

“yes?!” you shout, incredulous. “that’s what this is, timothée! that’s why it works! because clearly you’re not cut out for anything serious now that you’re a bigshot actor with a conceited dick with half of london getting in your pants!”

he flinches as if you’ve hit him.

you backtrack, the strength of your regret making you nauseous. “oh, no, that’s not what i meant. that’s not—”

“that’s what you said,” timothée says numbly. he scrambles off the couch, shoving his hands in his pockets as he makes for the door.

“timothée,” you start, sick to your stomach at the look on his face. for being responsible for it. “i didn’t mean that. listen, i should never have said that, it’s not even true—”

your fucking phone rings again.

“hey,” he laughs bitterly, spinning on the spot as he walks backwards, hands up in resignation. “don’t let me stop you. go catch feelings for somebody who gives a shit. i never did!”

he’s already out the door before you process his words, and then you’re storming after him, tears streaming down your cheeks.

his words sting like an open wound, but you can’t help but note he didn’t slam the door.

goddamn he walks fast.

“timothée, wait!” you shout, barrelling down the halls of the apartment building. you hear his footfalls on the stairs and then you're hurtling down them, too, chasing a broken heart, cradling your own.

no shoes, no coat, and you don’t care. all that matters is catching him, because if the last thing you ever see of him is pain seared across his face, if the last thing he ever knows of you is your cruelty…

“stop, please,” you pant, slamming into him on the floor below.

he stumbles back, steadying you before steadying himself.

“what else is there to say?” timothée rasps. his eyes are red-rimmed and it’s as if somebody has punched you in the stomach. he carries on down the hall, his long strides making you jog to keep up.

“please just stop,” you beg, holding onto him like water in your hands.

“you made your feelings pretty damn clear and so did i.”

“just stop.”

it’s your voice cracking that makes him turn.

he stops.

“i can’t lose you,” you whisper.

he breaks.

“i’m back in london in two days,” he exhales, scrubbing a hand through his hair. it sticks up wildly, and you can’t focus on anything else: you need to fix it. fix this.

your hand reaches out to tuck a piece behind his ear. it springs back into place in a way that is so timothée that you burst into tears.

instinctively, his hands cup your face, thumbs wiping the tears that continue to fall. your chest heaves as you look at him, as he looks at you, and then the dam bursts: a torrent of apologies comes rushing out of you both, overlapping, overflowing.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean any of it—” you start.

“i was stupid and mean and none of it is true—” timothée babbles.

“i don’t even know why i said it, you’re my best friend—”

“i can’t lose you either,” he croaks, “i was jealous and took it out on you and it’s my own fucking fault we’re in this mess—”

“there’s nothing to be jealous of, baby, you’re incomparable, the best i’ve ever had—”

“you deserve so much better—”

“what?! no – timothée, are you kidding?”

“—somebody who’s actually there for you and not a weirdly possessive asshole on the other side of the world who wants you to himself—”

“i can deal with the distance if it means i have you!” you grab his shirt to steady yourself. he’s the biggest constant in your life, even when he’s a million miles away. you don't long for the others to stay the night. you don't count the hours until they're on your doorstep, or track their flights to check they're safe, or knock them down at the arrivals gate.

pulling him closer, imploring, now: “i only want you!”

his lips crash into yours as the waves fall to the sea, inevitable, inseparable. you’re kissing him back desperately, hands sifting through his hair, his gripping your hips, tugging you closer and closer and closer.

“i only want you,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathless as you push him up against the wall. “you are it for me.”

“this is it, then,” you say, hands over his pounding heart. “we’re doing this?”

“we’re doing this,” he affirms, then captures your lips again.

you feel him smirk so you pull away slightly, your eyebrows furrowed when that boyish grin graces his face —

“so do you really think my dick’s conceited?” timothée grins, linking his fingers with yours to lead you back home.

“i think i know how to keep it in check,” you grin back, kissing the back of his hand as he pulls you into his side, inevitable, inseparable.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fic #timothee x you #timothee imagine #timothee x y/n #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet angst #ohladymoon

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diesukitsuki · 2 years

Note

Stop my brain RIGHT FUCKING NOOWWWW

thinking about sitting on bkg's lap while he is lying down, just sucking on his nipples while cockwarming him, bouncing sometimes

think about his flustered face, cute and shy moans and pink nipples being abused by your mouth-

ughhhh there is no enough bottom bakugou I swear, sometimes this man doesn't wanna think about everything, doesn't want to take care of everything

he wants to be spoiled, loved and taken care of!

cw : gn! reader, sub bakugou, short fic, nipple play, cock warming, 18+ only, ageless blogs and minors dni,

note : hngngh you have no idea how many times i’ve day dreamed about doing that to him.

sorry for the adrupt ending.. uhh i didn’t know what else to add also.. i’m shit at smut 💔

Be it genetics or some kind of sick joke from his past life, Katsuki’s nipples were annoyingly sensitive. Sensitive to the point where he has to be mindful of what material his shirts he should avoid, like cotton, or always having to avoid tight space in case of accidental... chafing.

It was something he could handle though. Nothing too serious. Nothing to cry about. If his chest happened to brush by something, he’d suck it up because it happens. A simple annoying inconvenience that he would forget about. Easy. Done.

As for you, you were an obstacle he wouldn’t have anticipated— ever— until you got a little too brave. You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Seeing that his cute nipples are almost always pressed against his thin shirt, you can’t help but prod and poke at them, giggling as you watch him flinch and swat at your hand like a prissy cat.

It was hard to resist, really. Your boyfriend’s tits were so pretty and filled out nicely in his synthetic shirts. Sometimes you would treat yourself by letting your eyes drift down, all of his words fizzing out of your brain as he talked about this and that, who and what, where and how.

That’s when your brain delves into fantasies that he would probably be too embarrassed to let you indulge onto him. Your would blink slowly as you continue you stare, letting the dilating void in your eyes take in the shape of plush pecs. Thinking about squeezing them, sucking them, milking them.

“Oi,” He snaps his fingers in front of you. Your eyes flutter, and you’re back from your enriching vision. “eyes up here, perv.”

“Can’t help, handsome. Y’got nice tits.”

He clicks tongue and turns his head away. You don’t miss his reddened cheeks. Cute, you coo inwardly. ”Don’t call ‘em that. It’s fuckin’ embarrassing.”

“Get less prettier tits then.” Your eyes dropping back down to stare at them. “Can’t help it..” You trail off.. Your voice dipping like you’re entranced by his chest. Might as well be.

“God, your basically drooling all over them.”

“I’d actually do it, if you’d let me.”

“Shut up before I kill you.”

It’s funny how fussy he got whenever you got too handsy with his chest. Swatting your hand away when went to grab a handful. Promising death when you ogled him for too long— Always so demanding. Always so bossy. Though, you have him on a leash, especially when he’s drooling and begging for you to move your hips. The make out sessions before hand not satiating anything.

“Patience, honey.” You coo to him, adjusting yourself purposely like you had for the nth time to watch him whine underneath you. His fat cock rubbing against your velvet walls. “You’re doing so good, baby. You just gotta be a little more patient.”

“Please..” He keens softly. His usually sharp eyes are dulled down into something soft and hazy, like tumbling sea glass, as he looks up at you. “Want you to move s’badly..” He whines. The vice on your hips tells you the same thing.

“I know,” You reassure. “I know. ‘m just gonna try something, m’kay? Can we do that first?” You press a kiss against his swollen lips when he complies with an eager nod, and you feel him melt against you. “Good.” You say with a smile.

You press kisses down the column of his neck. Revisiting bruises with kitten lick, and inking blank skin with your teeth. His hands find their way to your shirt. His hands fisting them as you continue to mark him up. The subtle vibration of his whimpers and mewl can be felt as you make your journey down to his chest.

Katsuki lets out a curse when you lap at his pert bud before taking a good mouthful of his pecs into your mouth. Sweet moans fall from his lips as you suck and lap at his nipple. Your free hand groping at the fat of his pecs, occasionally tweaking or pinching at his nipples.

“Hngh,, ‘s too much..” The collar of your shirt touches your neck as he pulls your shirt down from behind. You let out a soft groan as you feel his hips shift. His dick moving inside you. The vibration of your groan has his muscles tightening, “Fuck, pl— hah—Please.. It’s too much.” A whine escapes when he feels you tighten at his please.

You unlatch yourself from his tits. Your hands replace the empty spot for you. It was too hard to resist, especially if they’re all shiny and pretty from your spit. You look at him. His face hinted with tears. Poor baby was too overwhelmed. You lean over to lick them away before pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead.

“C’mon, just a little more for me, baby.” You coo. Your thumbs runs soft delicate circles that leaves Katsuki whimpering. “You can do it, hm? It’ll feel good I promise. I’ll even go a little gentler. How ‘bout it.”

Katsuki sniffles and nods. You smile press a kiss to his lips before descending back down to give the other side the same treatment. This time a little more gentler. You look up at him, gouging his reaction. His eyes are shut, and his eyebrows are strewn together as he cries out to you in delight.

You grind your hips, moaning around his plush pecs as his fat cock grinds within you. He throws his head back in response. His hands slam against the couch cushion, grasping at the fabric to stable himself as he sobbed out your name.

“S’good, want more.. Please n—ngh—need more, baby.. Please.”

You suck a little harder. Your tongue lapping and circling around his nipple as your other hand pinched and teased the his other pec. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you continued to grind your hips into him. Katsuki cries and writhes underneath you as you milk and fuck him prettily.

Bout of ‘yes’s and ‘fuck’s spouted out of his mouth in chants. His hips threatening to jump to press himself even deeper into your. Katsuki lets out a scream when a hot and pleasurable pain surges through him when you bite down on his pecs. You feel his cock pulses before feeling his hot cum shoot up into you. He’s boneless under you, whining and whimpering about how good it felt.

You let out a chuckle,“Good boy. You did such a good job.”

#novah.thirsts #novah.writes #novah.shorts #no wc bc on phone smile #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #smut

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sweeterthanthis · 3 years

Text

Your Filthy Heart

Part Three: The Pure and The Poison

Your Filthy Heart Masterlist

Thank you to @ozarkthedog for reading this through for me and to @msmarvelwrites for the support and some epic dirty talk suggestions!

Summary: It’s time to give Daddy a taste of his own medicine by bringing your boyfriend, Peter Parker, home for dinner.

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, daddy/stepdad kink, infidelity, vaginal sex, dirty talk, derogatory language, a touch of face slapping, cum play(?). 18+.

Word Count: 3.5k

“I’m nervous, like really nervous. Is my tie straight?”

There was a part of you that felt guilty for dragging Peter into your shit, truly. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying his affections.

He was handsome, a strong jawline, kind eyes, a boy next door kinda attitude. Peter was everything that Bucky wasn’t, and maybe a little part of you made the conscious decision to start dating him because he was so different.

You knew you were pushing your luck, but when the thought occurred to invite him home for dinner, your mouth engaged before your brain and you’d already asked.

“It’s just dinner, Pete. You didn’t need to wear a tie at all.” You couldn’t help but smile at him as he fixed his hair in the rear mirror, but the pit of dread in your stomach was only growing more by the second. “Come on, Mom’s probably bouncing up and down in anticipation.”

“Your Stepdad’s gonna be home soon right? Fuck, I wanna make a good impression.”

Placing a hand on his thigh, muscular and firm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze. He really was adorable, an underlying sexiness about him because he was so concerned with being the most decent guy he could be. And he didn’t deserve a single second of the torture you were about to put him through.

Was that going to stop you? Absolutely not.

You knew your mother would be too high on the buzz that you’d finally met a guy you’d deemed important enough to bring home for dinner. She wouldn’t notice the impending tension, of that you were sure.

Stepping out of Peter’s car, your tummy flipping at the thought of Bucky coming home to find his spot in the garage taken, you readjusted your skirt and motioned at Peter to get out of the car with a roll of your eyes and a nod of your head.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He muttered, reaching for the bouquet of flowers he’d bought for your Mom in the back seat.

Grabbing his hand, you tugged him towards the door connecting the house to your garage, you made your way to the kitchen -- the scent of pot roast, of course, filling the air and the sounds of gentle piano music playing softly in the background.

Your Mom really had gone the whole hog to make a good impression, and you couldn’t blame her. She had no idea you were screwing her husband, feelings of possessiveness and bitterness growing with each passing day.

She loved Peter. That much was very clear from the second she’d been introduced to him.

You feigned interest as she sat across from him on the plush, cream sofa; asking him a thousand questions and not allowing him the airtime to answer a single one before she’d thought of another.

But all you could think of was him. The look on his face when he saw Peter sitting next to you on the couch, the hand that was currently resting loosely on your knee, your Mother’s beaming smile as she informed him that we had a dinner guest.

You revelled in the power you held — the power to drive him insane with jealousy.

You zoned out as you helped your Mother set the table, the sound of her voice muffled in your ears when you heard the low rumble of a car engine pull up on the driveway; blood instantly pounding in your ears.

“Oh, that’ll be James.” Your mother gushed, clasping her hands together and straightening out the cutlery on the way back to the kitchen.

James.

She always did like to abandon the nickname when she was trying to impress. You’d heard the name ring out in the night air on more than one occasion that week. And the thought made you sick.

You held no claim over him. Not really. But that didn’t stop the rage from bubbling in your belly each and every time.

“Hey, you okay? You look as nervous as I feel.”

Peters hand resting on your lower back, his soft eyes looking down on you with gentle concern, you forced yourself to smile and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. He can just be a little,” you paused, wringing your fingers together in front of you, “intense.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side to give your body a reassuring squeeze — guilt thumping through your veins as you cursed yourself for dragging him into the mess you’d found yourself in.

“Anyone wanna tell me who’s car is in my spot?”

The sound of his voice, laced with irritation and curiosity, had your heart beating rapidly in your chest; the reality of what you’d done setting in as his footsteps drew nearer.

“Hey, it’ll be fine. I’ll make a good impression, I promise.”

Peter was too good for you, of that much you were certain. But you forced a smile anyway, leaning up on your tiptoes to meet his waiting kiss.

At the worst possible moment.

“What do we have here?”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you composed yourself, opening your eyes to meet his fiery stare. There he stood in the living room doorway, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp, black button up. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the way the veins in his hands flexed.

Before you could speak, Peter stepped forward; holding his own hand out for Bucky to shake.

“Mr Barnes, Sir, I’m Peter Parker. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

All you could do was watch as Peter’s hand hung in the air, Bucky with his hands on his hips, leaning back on his heels slightly. The tension was evident, yet only you and he knew why — the weight of your entanglement heavy in the air.

“Finally, huh?”

Bucky caught your anxiety-ridden stare over Peter’s shoulder, chewing on the inside of his cheek; brow furrowed as he blew out a heavy breath through his nostrils.

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I didn’t realise we’d be having a guest for dinner.” Bucky stepped forward then, forcing a smile and shaking Peter’s hand firmly with one hand, and planting the other firmly on his shoulder. “Would’ve come home earlier, but then nobody tells me anything in this house.”

The intent to agitate Bucky was clearly paying off, but you never anticipated the way it would make you feel — stomach churning and headache inducing.

With Peter in the room and your Mother hovering in the next room, you knew you were safe. Yet the thought of what he might do later that night after your Mother had passed out from necking too much Chardonnay had your tummy fluttering.

“C’mon, Pete.” Bucky threw a smirk in your direction, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulder and guiding him towards the kitchen. “Let’s go get a beer and leave the ladies to it, huh?”

Your mouth hung open in astonishment and your feet planted to the floor, all you could do was watch as your lover took your boyfriend aside for what you could only assume would be a desperately uncomfortable conversation.

As you helped your Mother to prepare dinner, absentmindedly chopping tomatoes for the salad, you kept one eye on Bucky who was already sitting at the dining table across from a flustered Peter — and mentally kicked yourself for putting yourself in such a stressful situation.

You tried not to look at him as you walked over to the table, salad bowl heavy in your trembling hands.

Walking around the back of his chair, you did your best to flash Peter a reassuring smile, his eyes flitting from yours to Bucky’s while he tried to keep his attention on the conversation.

As you leant over to put the salad bowl on the table, a discreet, firm squeeze to your ass made you jump; his fingers digging into your flesh in not so subtle warning.

“Oh!”

��Are you okay?” Peter asked, shooting a concerned look in your direction.

Breathing a short sigh of relief when his hand withdrew, you straightened yourself out and walked around to your Boyfriends seat; blood hot with frustration at the way Bucky had put his hands on you in such a fragile situation.

Suddenly, you simply didn’t give a fuck.

How dare he try to lay a claim on you after everything you’d had to deal with; having to watch every day while he played at happy marriages with your mother.

“I’m fine, Babe.” You leant down then, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek and shooting Bucky a warning stare. “I’m gonna go wash up for dinner, okay? Be right back.”

Your anxiety was slowly morphing into vitriol, your hips swaying as you marched past your Stepfather’s unamused gaze.

Fuck him.

You washed your hands in the bathroom, gearing yourself up for what was sure to be a very awkward dinner — checking your makeup in the mirror, and fixing your hair.

He’d riled you up, and now you had a point to prove. And you had every intention of doing so, one way or another.

Making your way out of the bathroom, you straightened out your pleated skirt - the one you knew drove Bucky crazy - walking down the hallway with a confidence that you’d seemingly plucked out of nowhere.

“What the-”

One strong arm wrapped around your midsection, pulling your back tight against a broad chest -- and you needed no clue as to whom it belonged to.

He yanked you through the door to the garage, shoving you forwards a little as the door clicked shut and the lock twisted.

Everything inside you told you to give him a piece of your mind, spinning on your heel, your cheeks hot with disbelief.

But as he stepped towards you, his eyes trained on your shaking form, you felt warmth flood your groin and you were putty once again. You hated how easily he reduced you to a desperate mess of a girl. Truly, you did.

The fact remained, your Boyfriend was the other side of the wall and your Mother was floating around the house fussing like a woman possessed.

“How dare—”

Bucky’s hand gripped your throat in warning, wedding ring digging against the supple flesh of your neck - the fire in his beautiful eyes causing your pussy to clench around nothing.

Shoved up against the passenger side of Peter’s car, you lifted your chin in defiance, a slight smirk gracing your glossy lips as you soaked in his fury.

“You tryna piss Daddy off, Princess? ‘Cause you’re doin’ a real good job.”

Your fingers dragged up your bare thighs, lifting your skirt up higher, his thigh pressed firmly against your lace covered cunt.

“What’sa matter, Daddy? You jealous?” The low growl that emitted from his throat made you shudder, his breath warming your face as he tilted your chin up roughly with his fingers. “You not enjoying getting a taste of your own medicine, Daddy? Is that it?”

“You fuck that kid? Huh?” The hand around your throat squeezed, thumb pushing against your pulse point, his lips inches from yours. “You better answer me or I swear to fuckin’ God, girl...”

One hand palming at the throbbing erection in his trousers, the other gripping his own as it shook against your throat, you smiled. And he looked like he wanted to fucking murder you.

“So what if I did? Seems fair to me. At least you don’t have to listen to me screaming his name. And Daddy, he makes me scream.”

You ignored the fear bubbling in your chest, your bratty mouth unable to stop itself from running merry hell.

“He’s so big, Daddy. Stretches me out so good.” Bucky pulled you towards him then, teeth clenched and jaw ticking, on the edge of losing every bit of control. And you just couldn’t help yourself. “You should see it.”

The dark chuckle that fell from his lips held no humor, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and his head cocked to the side.

“Is that what this is, Princess? Fuck, that jealousy’s just eatin’ you up, huh? Poor baby…”

Your confidence waned for a moment, whimpering pathetically as his thumb traced your trembling jaw. You couldn’t stop yourself, hips winding down against his thick thigh, a twinkle in his eye as he watched you with a faux pout etched on his lips.

“If you weren’t so fuckin’ cute, it’d be pathetic. Lookit you; grindin’ down on Daddy’s leg like a bitch in heat. What would Peter say, hmm?”

Shame swam deep in your gut, but it was nothing compared to the warmth spreading between your legs, the damp patch on your panties staining the material of his suit pants.

“Daddy—”

His fingers nestled between your lips, pressing down on your tongue as they slid down your throat - gag reflex kicking in when the tips of his fingers found your tonsils.

“Suck.”

You did as he asked, eyes boring into his as he thrust his fingers back and forth between your lips, garbled moans vibrating in your throat, spit coating the platinum band on his ring finger.

“Why do I always gotta remind you who you belong to, huh?” You couldn’t answer, mouth stuffed full, tears pooling in your eyes, and spittle dripping from the corners of your mouth. “You think I was just gonna make nice with your little boyfriend in there? Bet he doesn’t know what a dirty little cockslut you really are does he?”

A sharp tap to your cheek, spit slick against your skin, had you quivering. Yet your hands found the collar of his shirt, gripping it tightly and yanking him down towards you. Your lips crashed against his then, a satisfied grunt vibrating against your mouth, one hand gripping your ass while the other dove between your legs.

Bucky held you tight against his chest, fingers dipping beneath the gusset of your panties and swiping through your sloppy folds as he walked you clumsily round to the hood of Peter’s car - lifting you effortlessly and setting you down, cool metal causing you to shudder from the chill.

You watched as he yanked your panties down your legs, your heart pounding at the thought of your Mother and your Boyfriend next door, waiting for you to return.

“I can’t trust you to be a good girl, can I? Can’t trust you to keep those fuckin’ legs shut.”

“Daddy, I-”

“You’re gonna shut your fuckin’ mouth and take it, you got that Princess?”

Before you could open your mouth to answer, he’d balled your damp panties in his fist and forced them between your lips — teeth clenching down onto the salty-sweet lace.

It was humiliating, degrading; but when was it not? You craved it, the way he treated you. That feeling of being owned, completely surrendering yourself to another person. He made you need that.

“Look at that, always so wet for Daddy.”

His palms splayed out against the flesh of your thighs, he pushed them apart, spreading you open and putting you on display just for him.

Your heart was racing, the thrill of being caught at any moment thumping adrenaline through your veins. He could sense it, lips twitching into a satisfied smirk as he watched your eyes flit frantically back and forth between him and the door.

“D’you have any idea how much I wanna drag you back in there and fuck you on that table. Make them both watch, show them that you’re mine?”

Your moans muffled by the material stuffed between your teeth, two thick fingers stretching out your cunt as he unbuckled his pants — you shook your head.

You knew you had an effect on him, you knew he couldn’t stop himself from touching you, from creeping into your room late at night. But the way he looked at you now, the burning intensity in his eyes; it shook you to your core.

“If I had the time Princess, I’d eat that slutty little pussy right here. Make you gush all over Petey Boy’s car. He make you come as hard as Daddy does?”

Frantically, you shook your head from side to side. Peter had never even so much as grabbed your ass, but you’d riled Bucky up to the point of insanity. A man on a mission to prove just who you belonged to.

“No? You've sure changed your tune.”

You watched as he pumped his thick cock in his palm, the tip of him nudging against your clit, your pussy twitching.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, so stay quiet and keep those legs open for me.”

Your arms hooked beneath your knees, thighs spread wide, you barely had time to brace yourself before his cock split you open inch by inch.

You’d expected him to rut into you with excruciating force, to take you roughly. So when he thrust into you with slow, patient strokes; you could do nothing to hide the curiosity on your face.

“I know you know who fucks you the best. You just love riling Daddy up, don’t you? Get so - fuck - goddamn jealous of Mommy.”

Your head lulled back as his dick dragged against the throbbing walls of your cunt, his thumb finding your clit while he caressed your breasts with his free hand.

It was too much, too much tenderness, too good.

You hated yourself for wanting it. The new sensation of his knuckles softly grazing the hollow of your throat as he undulated his hips against your pelvis, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed.

“You know what you do to me, Baby? Look at me.”

Baby.

Bucky leant forward then, elbows either side of your head on the hood, balls deep inside you as he ground his hips into yours at a torturously slow pace.

“I got you all spread open wide for me, and my fuckin’ wife is right next door. She could walk in here right now and fuck, I still wouldn’t stop. You know how fucked up that is?”

It was nonsense, the broken words falling from your panty stuffed mouth, heat rising in your belly when he pulled out completely and slid on home once again.

He fit you perfectly; there was no doubt about it. The way your cunt wrapped around his dick, it was fucking sinful how perfect it felt. Sparks of pleasure shooting through your core as he rubbed tiny, delicate circles over your swollen clit.

“Tell me how much you want me.” Bucky ripped the panties from your mouth, shoving them in his pocket as you licked your dried out lips. “Need’ta hear you say it. Come on, Princess.”

You’d never seen it before, the needy side of him, the way he practically whimpered when your pussy clenched around his girth, his hand gently squeezing your thigh while the other tentatively worked your sensitive nub.

You tried to speak, tried to find the words he so desperately needed to hear — mouth hanging open in sheer confusion.

“You’re not coming until you tell me, and we’ve been gone a while…”

He halted inside you, only the tip of him nestled between your pussy lips, thumb hovering over your clit and a soft, yet entirely serious look gracing his gorgeous face.

“I—I want you, Daddy.” You yielded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the yelp as he slammed back into you in one brutal motion — slowly withdrawing and circling your clit with the tip of his dick.

“Again.”

“I want you, Daddy.” Insistent this time, no tremble in your voice, hips winding down towards his length, eager to have him back where he belonged. “Only want you, Daddy.”

There was no hint of a lie in your tone, and as he fucked you - possessive and hungry - you wondered how any other man could ever match him.

Sprawled out on the hood of Peter’s car, legs hooked over Bucky’s shoulders, you begged and panted; nearing closer and closer to sweet release.

“You do, don’t you? You belong to me, Princess. Daddy’s all the man - shit - you need.”

Garbled words choked in your throat, the breath punched from your lungs when he pinched your clit roughly with his fingertips, stars dancing behind your eyelids as pleasure twisted in your abdomen, limbs shaking and numb.

Pathetic whispers of daddy, daddy, daddy had him slamming into you, unforgiving and merciless while he chased his own orgasm.

“Fuck lookit you, fallin’ apart on poor Parker’s car, cunt full’a Daddy. Wanna fill you up so bad Princess, but I’ve got a better idea.”

You felt the hollow emptiness of his withdrawal, hazy eyes flickering open to catch sight of him; teeth bared, fist furiously pumping his cock, white, hot spurts of come smattering against the already sopping flesh of your swollen, fucked-out pussy lips.

“Bucky! Darling, where are you?”

You panicked, hopping down off the hood and scrambling to push your skirt back down your aching thighs.

“Fuck, gimme my underwear.” You hissed, holding out your hand as you bounced on your heels.

“Nuh uh, Princess. You’re gonna sit there all night next to Peter, who seems like a real nice kid by the way, with my come all over you. Be real hard to forget who’s little cockwhore you are then, won’t it?”

You watched, dumb struck as he casually tucked himself back into his pants, swiping the wine bottle from the counter and making his way to the door.

“Hurry now, we’ve kept our guest waiting long enough don’t you think?”

With a wink and a sardonic smirk, Bucky disappeared through the door, your Mom’s soft laughter ringing in your ears through the wood.

Dinner was surprisingly a lot less awkward than you expected, aside from the jabs from Bucky thrown in your direction every now and again. But you’d much rather he targeted you than Peter.

Sitting with Bucky’s come smothered between your thighs made the guilt in your gut throb every time Peter’s soft fingers found the bare flesh of your knee beneath the table.

No matter how much water you chugged, your mouth was dry throughout, your instincts driving you to get through the meal without choking and needing to excuse yourself.

As the evening drew to a close, your Mother tipsy and insisting that Peter come back to visit again the following week, you couldn’t wait to get him out of there and wipe away the mess from between your legs.

“Parker, you ever play golf?” Bucky asked as Peter pulled on his jacket.

You couldn’t believe the audacity of him, shame and fury eating at you as he played the perfect, welcoming parent.

“Uh, a little from time to time.” He answered, looking down at you with a proud smile as he sensed an invitation coming. It killed you, the sweetness on his features. You didn’t deserve an ounce of it.

“I’ll get your address from our girl, huh? Pick you up Saturday, say, just after lunch?”

Our girl.

It made you cringe, chewing on your bottom lip as you took hold of Peter’s hand and led him to the garage where you’d been full of your Stepdad’s cock just an hour earlier.

“Yes, that’d be great Mr Barnes. Thank you!”

“Please, call me Bucky.”

You couldn’t stand it any longer, making your way to the garage while Peter trailed behind you saying his goodbye’s.

He kissed you softly, and it made you want to weep—the way his hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs stroking against the corners of your mouth. When he pulled away, the look of adoration on his face had your heart skipping a beat.

This was what you needed.

This relationship was healthy. Safe. Right.

So why did it feel so wrong?

What you had with Bucky could never go anywhere, would never progress to more than secretive fucks and risky situations.

“Your Stepdad seems like a decent guy, but he’s really hard on you huh?”

“You have no idea.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #marvel smut #stepdad!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader

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blooming-violets · 2 years

Text

Here For You || TASM One Shot

Summary: Peter helps comfort his girlfriend receive a difficult medical diagnosis.

Warnings: brain tumor diagnosis, mentions of vomiting and anxiety/panic attacks

A/N: I’m so sorry for this mess. I’m on day three of fever fueled sick weekend. I know I can do better but this is for my new friend and I wanted them to have it asap even if it’s subpar. Anyway we all know Peter would be the best comfort boyfriend ever.

Tag List: (Reminder! I’m redoing my tag list. Read about it here [x] if you would like be added or re-added): @amazingspideyslut @ongreenergrasses @captaindanvxrsnon @andiforgetaboutyoulongenoughh @liz-allyn

“It smells weird in here,” Peter’s voice was quiet as he spoke directly into your ear.

He was sitting on the hard, ugly patterned chairs in the hospital waiting room next to you. Your hand was clasped tightly between his. He kept you as close to him as he could without you actually sitting on his lap.

You gave a soft sigh and turned to face him, “That’s what all hospitals smell like. You better gets used to it because I think I’m going to be here for a while.”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped. He hated when you implied that something was wrong with you. “You’re going to be fine.”

His denial was glaring you both in the face. You had much more realistic expectations of your situation. You turned your head away from him and studied a generic looking painting hanging on the wall. He could sense you were getting colder with him and he nudged the top of his head into your shoulder like a cat begging for attention.

“You will be,” he urged. “I know you will.”

It was best for the both of you if you ignored his optimism. Just once, you’d like him to admit that something serious could be happening inside of you. You knew it was because he was scared. By acknowledging the situation, he would be allowing something bigger than himself to be brought into your lives. Peter could protect you from he the things he could see. He could fight away monsters and evil to keep you safe but he couldn’t fight the invisible. This was something he had no control over. You knew he hated not having control when it came to your safety.

You couldn’t be mad at him for it. He was just as scared as you. Your leg bounced anxiously on the tiled floor while you waited for your name to be called. Peter placed his hand on your knee to steady your leg. His fingers massaged the top of your thigh through your pants.

“No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you,” he told you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A tiny bit of relief flooded through your body. That’s all you had wanted to hear. You turned to look at him with a small smile. It didn’t reach your eyes but you wanted him to know that you were thankful for his sentiment.

He leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to your forehead, “You’re so strong. You’re stronger than I’ll ever be.”

While you highly doubted that statement, it was still nice to hear. No one was stronger than Peter. Physically and emotionally. That man could handle anything. You just hoped he’d be able to handle this too because you weren’t sure if you’d be able to do it alone.

You jumped when you heard your name called. Your heart started racing and you clutched Peter’s hand tighter. He gave it a comforting pat and nudged your shoulder.

“You got this,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here waiting when you get out.”

You gave him a shaky nod and pushed yourself off the chair. The walk to the MRI room felt like a dream. The walls, floor, and ceiling all blended together into a white, overly bright, haze. Your feet didn’t feel like they were touching the ground. You were just merely floating along behind the nurse like you were already dead. Your head started to feel dizzy. It was hard for your eyes to focus on anything. If Peter was with you, he would have put his arm around you right about now. He would have sensed you felt lightheaded and taken the precautions to keep you upright. The nurse, however, was non the wiser. You did your best to breathe through the panic gripping at your throat.

You’ll be okay. You’ve got this. You’re stronger than Peter.

You repeated his phrases back to yourself. You did not feel stronger than Peter. You didn’t have this. And you would not be okay.

It wasn’t working.

The nurse lead you into a dimly lit room with a giant machine waiting for you. The air felt stale and chilly. She handed you a hospital gown to change into while she left you alone. Goosebumps rose on your skin the second you started to remove your clothing. Why was it so cold in here?

You hurried to put on the gown and awkwardly attempted to tie it properly to keep your bottom from showing. Your eyes traveled around the small room while you waited for the nurse to return. There wasn’t much in here besides the machine. You eyed the round hole that you would be placed inside of soon enough. It looked so small. Claustrophobia wasn’t typically something that worried you but, looking at the tight space, it was starting to set in.

The nurse pushed open the door with a smile and your heart skipped a beat. She cheerily instructed you on how to lay down and went over the entire procedure with you. It all sounded like gibberish in your ears. None of her words were making any sense. Her lips were moving but you weren’t picking up on anything. You tried to take another deep breath and focus yourself. Your throat was uncomfortably tight.

After you laid down on the hard, skinny table, a cage was placed around your head. The machine slowly drew you into its depths. Your heart was beating fast the more enclosed you became. The machine started up. You had been told it was noisy but the sounds were extremely unnerving. They triggered your flight or fight response. Just as you were about to start panicking and begging to be let out, the music in your headphones started. The familiar sounds floated into your ears and cut through the panic. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to zone in on nothing but the words.

When you were told you could listen to music inside the machine, Peter had been the one to suggest the soundtrack to (500) Days of Summer. It was your favorite movie. He knew even just hearing the opening monologue would be enough to soothe your mind.

“This is a story of Boy Meets Girl. The boy, Tom Hanson of Margate, New Jersey, grew up believing that he'd never truly be happy until the day he met The One...”

A little smile flickered on your lips as you thought of Peter. The scenes from the movie danced in front of your closed eyes. The two of you had seen it so many times that you had it memorized. With the soundtrack playing, you allowed yourself to fall deeper into your own imagination. Relaxation flooded over you. Peter was good at this. He knew you too well.

Before you knew it, the MRI was pulling you back out. You blinked up as your eyes adjusted back to the dimly lit room. The nurse opened the door and gave you another smile. It seemed she never stopped smiling. The anxiety flooded back into your stomach. You wished she show you some other emotion other than eternal happiness.

“If you’d like to get dressed and head back to the waiting room, your doctor will review your results and call you in for a meeting in about a half hour,” her smile stayed plastered onto her face even as the door closed behind her.

You decided that you didn’t like her for, no other reason than, her stupid smile.

You scrambled to get your clothes back on and found your way back to Peter in the waiting room. He hadn’t moved from his spot in the corner. The moment he saw you, he stood up and pulled you into a hug. Your entire body melted into his chest. You inhaled the familiar scent of his clothes and everything in the world seemed to relax back into normal.

“How’d it go?” He asked.

You kept him held tightly in the hug, not ready to let him go just yet. All you could do was shrug. No one had given you any information.

“They said it would be a half hour until we hear anything,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Why don’t we go for a little walk then? Get your mind off of it?” He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and gave you a small smile.

You let him lead you out of the waiting room and through the halls. It was much easier to move when you had Peter guiding you. His steady hand kept you grounded to the floor. You no longer felt like you were floating.

The winter air flooded your lungs and opened up your senses the second you stepped outside. It was a rather warm winter day and the sun shone high above in the cloudless, deep blue sky. Just leaving the hospital walls was all the relief you needed. You inhaled the cool air and snuggled into Peter’s side as he walked you down the sidewalk.

“Did they let you listen to music in there?” He asked.

You smiled and gave him a nod, “Yes. Thank you for that. It helped a lot. I was too busy playing the movie in my head to even think about what was going on.”

Peter gave you a side squeeze and left his arm around your shoulders, “You know, May had to get an MRI once. She said that if she didn’t have music to distract her, she would have gone crazy in there. It was really her that reminded me to find you something you’d enjoy.”

“We should stop by that bakery that she likes on the way home and pick her up some cookies.” Your mind was already drifting onto other things the further away from the hospital you got. Maybe Peter was right. Maybe you would fine and this would all be something to laugh at later.

The two of you found a wooden bench to stop and sit at. You draped your legs over his lap and leaned against his shoulder. Your eyes raked over the side of his face. He had a good amount of dark stubble growing along his jawline and cheeks. It occurred to you that he hadn’t shaved this morning because he was too busy taking care of you. You had been a mess when you woke up. With a sigh, you ran the back of your hand over his prickly face. He closed his eyes and smiled at your touch.

“If I ever get too sick, Pete, I want you to know that it’s okay to leave. You don’t have to say until the end.” These were all thoughts that had been weighing heavily on your mind the past month. You were so afraid that if things got bad, Peter would be stuck with you. He’d be too nice of a person to run. He would be trapped.

Peter turned to stare at you with an expression you had never seen on his face before. He looked absolutely appalled with you. His mouth open and closed a few times before any words even came out.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He said aghast. “You’re not dying! You don’t even know the diagnosis yet. We could go back in there and they could tell us that everything is perfectly fine and you’re healthy. Stop acting like the world is over. Nothing has happened yet. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re with me and that’s not going to change. I’m not going to sit here and watch you wallow yourself into a depression."

Sometimes you wished you could hate him. Sometimes you wished you could get angry at him. But, no matter what he did or said, he always right. It was incredibly annoying. You rolled your eyes and gave him an unimpressed look.

“Maybe I want to wallow in depression?” You grumbled.

“Well I won’t let you!” He stood up and pulled you along with him.

“Where are we going?” You stumbled after him.

“We’re going to get some fucking ice cream to shut you up,” he winked at you over his shoulder to show that his words were said with nothing but love.

---

“Brain tumor.”

That was the only thing you heard come out of the doctor’s mouth. The second those two little words, ten simple letters, were echoed into the tiny office your ears shut off. Nothing but a low humming noise buzzed around your brain. Your eyes went out of focus and throat tightened.

Brain. Tumor.

A tumor inside of your brain.

All you could hear was your own breathing. Your head turned to stare at Peter. He was frantically writing everything the doctor was saying into the notebook you had brought. You were notoriously bad at remembering information. You thought it would be smart to write down anything they said. Thank god Peter was with you because you didn’t even remember how to hold a pencil at this point. It felt like your entire body was shutting down bit by bit.

You forced your eyes to stay on Peter’s face. While the rest of the room went out of focus, Peter anchored you to reality. You watched him turn to look at you. His mouth was moving. He was asking you something. You couldn’t hear what it was. Your face must have remained blank because his brow furrowed. You could see your name being formed by his perfect lips. You didn’t need hearing to know it was your name. You had watched it come out of his mouth thousands of times before. He reached out his hand and placed it over yours.

The moment his skin came in contact with yours, the world exploded back into your senses.

The doctor was still speaking. He was describing the next steps of your medical journey. His voice sounded about five times louder than it should have. The room was suddenly too bright. Everything was too much.

You stood up from your chair.

Everyone stopped to stare at you.

“Bathroom,” you were able to whisper out.

You turned and sprinted out of the door.

You were floating down the halls again. It felt like you had entered a fun house at a carnival. The floors were tilting under you and you stumbled sideways into the wall. You had to drag yourself forward towards sign indicating the bathroom. You burst through the door and fell onto the cold floor. The door automatically locked behind you as you crawled to the toilet just in time for your stomach to empty out the ice cream you had ate earlier.

Your entire body contracted and seized with each gag. More and more came up. You couldn’t stop.

Someone was knocking at the door.

You couldn’t move from your spot wrapped around the toilet.

The handle turned a few times but was caught by the lock each time.

Eventually you heard the metal snap and Peter came running in after you. Through your haze of vomit and panic, you were pretty sure he had just broken the door to get to you. He knelt beside you, wrapping your hair up into a pony tail, and rubbing your back.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I got you,” he said soothingly.

You whimpered and your eyes watered with every heave. You hated puking. You hated it more that Peter had to witness you at your most vulnerable. No one wanted to watch their partner vomit. No one needed that image in their head.

You tried to shoo him away with your hand but he refused.

“Stop,” he ordered you. “I’m not leaving.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him. You gave few more dry heaves as most of your stomach contents had been emptied already then you slumped against the bathroom wall. Your teary eyes closed. All your energy was gone.

“You’re okay,” he kept repeating. “You’re okay.”

When he saw that you were done vomiting, Peter gathered you into his arms. He cradled you on the bathroom floor. His hands ran gently over your face and down your neck. He wasn’t going to leave you. He could watch you roll around in literal shit and he would still be in love with you. How did you ever get so lucky?

“Did you even hear what the doctor said?” He asked.

You shook your head no. All you heard was “tumor” before the panic took over.

“It’s a benign brain tumor. It’s not very big. He said they could remove it with surgery. He said he wasn’t worried. It not the best news but it’s also not the worst. This is something we can get through together. It’s not a death sentence. It’s just a bump in the road.”

---

Peter had the living room set up with flowers, blankets, and fairy lights. He had filled a bath for you right when you got home. It was nice to sit and soak in the hot, steamy water to unwind after the afternoon you had just been through. You could hear him moving things around out there while you relaxed but you didn’t think much of it until you emerged from the bathroom.

He had laid out your softest pajamas for you to change into. He, himself, was wearing a Spider-Man onesie you had bought him a few months ago at some cheap, knock off store in the city that sold unlicensed merchandise. Whenever you saw it, it always made you laugh. Today was no exception.

Your light giggle filled the room and he held out his hand for you.

“If the lady of the house would please accompany me to the theater room,” He spoke in a fake British accent.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and took his hand.

Peter had removed your bedroom mattress and placed it on the living room floor in front of a projector screen. Fake candles were lit around the room. Neither of you trusted your cat to keep from knocking over real ones. Rose petals were spread over the blankets and Stanley, your orange tabby, was rolled onto his back in middle of it all. He even wore a little bow tie around his chubby neck.

“What a little gentleman,” you mewed at him.

Peter scoffed, “He’s the gentleman? Of course the cat gets all the credit for my hard work.”

You laughed and placed a kiss against his lips, “Sorry but he’s the one who rules the house, you know this.”

He nodded, “I do know this. Stanley is the king. Go make yourself comfortable!”

He let you get settled on the mattress while he ran into the kitchen and grabbed two mugs of hot chocolate. He handed you one and snuggled in beside you. The projector lit up to life and 500 Days of Summer began to play.

“It’s a little freaky how well you know me,” you commented, taking a small sip of the chocolate.

“That’s because I love you.” He leaned over to press a kiss to the side of your head. “And I’m always going to love you. Even when they have to shave half your hair off to cut open your skull. We should both go bald together. I think we’d look cute. You’d look like a badass villain with a cool scar and I’ll look like a giant man baby.”

You scrunched up your nose at the thought, “Ew. Please don’t shave your hair. You need to keep it for the both of us.”

You felt his whole body settle happily against your side. You could feel his love for you washing off of him and smothering you. It was a nice feeling.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You’ll always have me. I promise. I’m going to be here to make your life as easy I can. Forever. Even when you’re 95 and in diapers. I’ll still be in that rocking chair next to you complaining about how I no longer have any teeth. I’m here for you. Always.”

#the amazing spiderman #tasm #tasm fic #tasm!peter #tasm x reader #tasm!peter parker #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #here for you #oneshot #here for you fic #blooming-violets #blooming violets fic #blooming violets

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ghost-ghost-baby · 3 years

Text

Narcissist (alpha!readerxOmega!Bakugo soulmate au)

An: this is heavily inspired by the song narcissist by younger hunger definitely recommend listening to it!

An: BIG TY TO MY BETA FOR EDITING THIS ABSOLUTE MONSTER OF A FIC WE STAN!

Word count: 3.2k (ur welcome)

Summary: Bakugo being a little shit basically- Mina and Denki r sick of him- reader runs out of scent blockers-

Warnings: omegaverse, swearing, Bakugo being a dick, reader just thinks he’s hot, gets a bit spicy but nothing graphic, non traditional dynamics (subby alphas) drug use (weed)

You were in a familiar room, one you’d come to love since you’d started dreaming of it, and you sat on the bed and waited… any moment now.

“Oi, are you here, shithead?” The voice of your omega was dreamier than it was in real life; his harsh words unable to punctuate the tranquility of your dream.

“I always am, Katsuki!” You chirped, grinning as he slowly faded into existence. The black tank top and jeans he wears make him look far too good, and your brain short-circuited for a few seconds.

“I told you not to fucking call me that!” He growled, but you only laughed. Reaching out to grab his hands before he could stop you, you pull him down so you could kiss him. Any anger he had quickly melted away, and Katsuki had pulled one hand away to rest on your shoulder and pushed back. You got the point, you pulled away for air and leaned back on your elbows as you did. Katsuki followed and straddled you without a moment of hesitation. His mouth latched onto your neck and you let out a hum. With one hand gravitating to tangle in his hair, he gave you another push that had you lying flat on your back.

“Hey-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t ruin this.” Katsuki bit down on your throat and you squeaked, although he licked over the mark seconds later to soothe it, and only pulled away to kiss you when you tried to talk again. You melted, let your hands wander down to his thighs, and had your thumbs rubbing absent-minded circles. Then, Katsuki was unbuttoning the shirt you had on, hands quickly trailing lower to-

“Y/N! Did you hear what Mr. Aizawa said?” Mina’s voice brought you back from the dream you had the night before, and you blinked at her as you blanked.

“No way I'm working with their dumbass!” Katsuki snarled as Kiri forced him into a seat at your table, and you turned your head to Sero with a questioning look. He usually knew what was going on in class.

“We have a group project for a presentation, Mr. Aizawa picked the groups-”

“Oh hell yeah, all my best bro’s working together? Sounds like fun to me!” Denki leaned over to hug you and Mina, and the pieces started to click together. You were working on an art project, with your mate, who hate-

“How could anything be fun with Y/n around, they fucking ruin everything.” Katsuki grumbled to himself, refusing to meet your eyes despite sitting opposite you. Kiri mouthed an apology to you from his seat next to Katsuki. Honestly, you had no idea why he’d decided to act like… such a brat really, but it was just an act, however annoying it was. The two of you were soulmates, he’d come around, eventually.

“Oh hush, Bakugo, Y/n’s a riot and we all know it! You’re the one who goes to sleep at like, 8pm” Denki came to your aid. The electric blonde then pressed a kiss to your cheek that had Katsuki gritting his teeth.

“So, what's the project, guys?” You flipped through your book to a fresh page, resting your chin on your hand as you waited for the others to speak.

“We have to show the versatility of styles and composition under a singular theme!” Kiri was the one that answered you, and the group immediately started throwing around ideas.

“I think we could do horror, a lot of horror artists have different composition styles and still manage to convey the-”

“Tch, that’s the best you could come up with? I’m not surprised, an alpha as shitty as you can’t be capable of any decent ideas.” Katsuki sneered, but you only smiled at him as the group agreed with your idea. Your omega merely grumbled and hunched over in his seat as the group discussed the different artists you could use as examples.

You’d stayed late to double-check something with a professor, and you were still flipping through your notebook as you walked through the unusually empty halls. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, and before you knew it you ran into someone, the same someone who shoved you against a wall seconds later, but your fear subsided when you realised it was just Katsuki.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, dipshit.” Katsuki wasn’t even sure why he’d pushed you up against the wall, but being this close to you, touching you… it was..nice…

“Tch, god your scent is so weak, you smell like a fucking beta, how’d I get stuck with such a runt, huh? Some sick kind of joke.” Katsuki’s tone didn't match what he was saying. The way he leaned forward to rub his cheek over your scent gland definitely said otherwise, but you stayed quiet, he always found some excuse to scent you, but he’d usually get embarrassed and storm off if you dared to say anything.

“You’re pathetic, you know? Being this submissive for an omega, are you sure you’re not a beta? It’d make more sense.” You bit your lip when Bakugo pressed a kiss to your neck, only hesitating a moment before he started sucking a mark onto your skin. His words bounced right off of you because all you could focus on was how hot he was and how he’d subconsciously put his thigh between your legs and thank fuck you were on scent blockers, or you’d never hear the end of it.

“Really, you aren’t even going to try and defend yourself? You’re even weaker than I thought.” A growl next to your ear made you shiver, and Katsuki pushed away with a snarl when he was satisfied. He cursed at you again and warned you ‘not to tell anyone or he’d kick your ass’ (he wouldn’t) before he walked away, leaving you to walk home with your head completely in the clouds.

“What took you so fucking long, huh idiot?” Katsuki was on you the second you appeared in the dream, pulling you down into a rather ferocious kiss before you could say anything. He bit your lip when you didn’t open your mouth fast enough, swallowing any protests you would have made, and continued to kiss you until you were dizzy. “I’ve been waiting two hours…” He pulled away to kiss under your jaw, and if you didn’t know him so well you’d miss the insecure tone in his voice.

“Sorry, Midoriya wanted-” You stopped when Katsuki growled, biting down so hard you were surprised he didn't draw blood.

“Why the fuck are you saying his name here, huh? Are you tryna piss me off?” He pulled away to sneer at you. You opened your mouth to explain, but the words died in your throat when he unzipped your hoodie, and any coherent thought you had went out the window when he started to kiss your neck.

Everything was ready. The lounge room was set up, complete with snacks, drinks, and stationery for you and your friends to work on the project. They were meant to be here any second, and you couldn’t help but hover near the door to your apartment. You weren’t used to having people over and it still put you on edge having others in your space. But that thought left your head when a knock sounded on your door. You quickly opened it and were almost knocked over by Denki and Mina engulfing you in a hug.

“Thanks so much for hosting bro!”

“Awww you laid out all these snacks and stuff too! An omega’s gonna be really lucky to have you one day Y/n!” They pushed inside. Denki closed the door as Mina oohed and aahed over the setup, their praise had a slight blush rising to your face as you sheepishly rubbed your neck. Sero was next, quickly hugging you before he joined Denki and Mina, then Katsuki and Kirishima last. The blonde pushed past you without saying hello, but Kiri pulled you into a hug so tight you couldn’t breathe for a second, and was complimenting the setup as you took a seat. You tried to sit next to Mina, but Denki let out a whine and the pair was pulling you down between them before you had time to protest. Denki immediately leaned on you once you were settled. Katsuki couldn’t focus on the project, how could he, when his two dipshit friends were all over his mate. And you weren’t even doing anything to stop them! In fact, you were leaning into their hugs and giggling at every stupid joke they made! It had Katsuki fuming. Kirishima was the only one close enough to smell the angry shift in his scent, and he glanced between his friend and you, slowly putting the pieces together. You really had no idea what was happening, but Denki’s head was on your shoulder, and Mina’s arm around your waist as she asked questions about the project, giggling and pressing a kiss to your cheek whenever you got confused, which happened more than you’d like to admit. The blonde gritted his teeth when Mina’s hand went to your thigh, you were his! Nobody else should ever be touching you like that! You should know better! So when you excused yourself to grab something from your room, of course he made up some excuse about needing the bathroom so he could follow you.

The door to your room closed with a click, and you quickly spun around, expecting to see Mina or Denki, anyone except Katsuki to be honest.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He was seeing red at this point. He cornered you and made you stumble back until your waist hit your desk.

“Uh- getting more pens-?” You held out the pack of pens with a confused look on your face that only made Katsuki angrier. How were you so stupid? And so fucking cute when you were- he cut off that thought, he needed to focus on yelling at you. Not the way your brows furrowed and how you nervously bite your lip as you waited for him to say something. Wait- were you blushing? Fuck, maybe he should-

“Katsuki? Are you oka-“

“Shut the fuck up, dipshit.” He snarled. Then, catching you both off guard, he leaned forward and kissed you. Your eyes fluttered closed immediately. He’d only kissed you in your dreams, which was nothing compared to this, and you hesitantly placed your hands on his waist. His hands went to your hair to pull you closer, tugging it until you got the message and parted your lips for him. Katsuki let out a hum of approval as he deepened the kiss, why hadn’t he done this sooner? You couldn’t focus on anything other than how much Katsuki tasted like caramel, he didn’t taste like caramel in the dreams. You couldn’t help but whine when he pulled back. Another insistent tug on your hair had you tilting your head back, and Katsuki didn’t waste any time kissing over your neck. You were so lost in the feeling you almost missed the words he growled against your skin.

“You should know better, you’re mine. Other people shouldn’t be fucking touching you like that.”

“Do you think they’re like…. Finally-” Mina made a hand gesture that had Denki cackling, even Kiri cracked a smile.

“I hope so, it’s getting hard to watch all the back and forth.” Sero sighed, dropped his pen, and stretched.

“Yeah, have you seen how mad Bakubro gets though? It’s pretty fun to push his buttons like this!” Denki grinned as he leaned his head on Mina’s shoulder, and she wrapped her arm around his waist.

“I don’t know… Bakugo’s uh… stubborn, to put it nicely.”

“Your scent is weird… are you wearing a different perfume?” Mina leaned her head on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as you glanced at Katsuki. After whatever the fuck had happened in your room, he’d gone back to acting like he hated you, so, you’d kept letting Denki and Mina do whatever they wanted. He had his eyes fixated on the work, and you turned back to Mina with a smile.

“Oh, sorry about that! I forgot to refill my scent blockers and my doctor’s not available until next week.”

“Don’t be sorry, bro! It’s nice, like really, really nice!” Denki came up behind you, throwing a quick glance at Katsuki before he leaned forward, crooning and rubbing his cheek over your scent gland, Mina doing the same a moment later. The pen Katsuki was holding snapped, his angry scent pumping out in waves as he glared daggers into the book in front of him, all too aware of you laughing.

You were hyper-aware of how strong your scent was, this was the longest you’d gone without scent blockers since you’d presented, and you’d lit a scented candle to try and cover it up. It hadn’t really worked, maybe you should light some incense-

“Y/n! Sorry we’re early!” Mina’s hand on your shoulder broke you from your thoughts, and you shook your head before you smiled. Denki cut you off before you could apologize about your scent.

“Damn Y/n! It smells like you baked cookies- oh my god did you bake-”

“Don’t be stupid, babe, it’s just their scent.” Mina shoved him inside, shaking her head as she followed and closed the door behind her.

“Oh! Of course!” Denki nodded, and he and Mina linked arms with you. They walked you over to the couch and sat you all down with grins on their faces.

“Uh… guys-?” You didn’t trust that look, it never leads to anything good.

“Well, since the project is like, 99.5% done-” Mina started, hand coming up to play with your hair.

“We thought we deserved a reward!” Denki interrupted, reaching into his bag and producing a blunt. You felt your own grin forming.

“Oh my god- is that from-”

“Shinso! You know he sells the best stuff on campus, I decided to splurge for my bros!” Denki looked incredibly pleased with himself, and you couldn’t help but tackle the blonde in a hug.

“Oh my god Denki, you’re the best!”

The three of you were blazed by the time the others got there. Sero happily bounced over to share the blunt, while Katsuki and Kiri just sighed and sat down with you. Katsuki’s eyes instantly zoned in on where you were lying on Mina and Denki on the couch. He was oddly silent as he tried to keep his cool, the nagging thoughts that had always been there slowly got stronger. He’d always had to be strong, people perceived him as weak just because of his dynamic, so he’d rejected the thought of being with an alpha, hoping for a beta or omega. Or you. You never made a big deal out of your dynamic, and always treated him as an equal. Then the dreams started. He loved you, he really did! But his whole reputation would go down the drain if he was claimed by an alpha, especially one with such a weak scent and mild presence. So…. he pretended to hate you in public because the two of you had your dreams, where nobody could judge him! Even if they did pale in comparison to real life. But lately… he couldn’t stop wondering… were you getting tired of waiting? With the way you were acting… the thought made his stomach turn and his canines come out. Especially since you had run out of blockers. Your scent getting stronger and stronger as the days went by. You were his alpha! You shouldn’t be scenting other people! Especially omegas! And you certainly shouldn’t be laying on them while you were ignoring him! You hadn’t even said hello to him! You were too busy getting high with those assholes like you didn't belong to him! You were his, it wasn’t fair!

Mina was the last out of the apartment. She kissed your cheek and winked at you as the door closed. The exhaustion set in as you leaned against the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Katsuki growled and made you startled when you saw him by the table. You only shrugged as you went to pack up the stuff on the couch.

“Denki got us some weed because the project was done-”

“Not that, dickhead! They were all over you!” He marched over to you, trying to ignore how good you smelled up close.

“And? We’re not-” You responded, and Katsuki was shoving you before he realized, ignoring the way you yelped as you fell on the couch. You sprawled on your back and glaring up at him.

“Katsuki! What the fuck!” Katsuki didn’t reply, eyes traveling over your vulnerable form. Flush rose to his face as he realized how provocative the position was, causing warmth to pool in his tummy. If kissing was so much better in reality, what would it be like to be inside you? Feel you clench around him and pull his hair when he hit your sweet spot? Would your thighs shake the same in real life when he just kept going? The omega didn’t even realize his scent had changed, he just licked his lips and stared at you with hooded eyes, fuck he wanted-

“Are you okay? You zoned out.” Fuck, when had you gotten up? You were so close now, your scent overwhelming. He never wanted you to go on blockers again.

“Fuck, Katsuki! Katsuki! Are you in heat?” It finally dawned on you. Katsuki’s scent had taken on a sweeter tone it didn’t usually have, and with the way he kept zoning out, it was obvious. Plus thoughts of him on top of you that wouldn’t leave your brain alone. Your question snapped him out of his daze, and the omega snarled at you, stepping back and stumbling when a jolt of pain went through him.

“Fuck off, like you could trigger-” His voice cut off as another wave of pain went through him, causing you to reached out to steady him without thinking. The omega was going to let out a growl but it quickly changed to a whine as it escaped his mouth. You pulled your hand back like it had burned, although your mate’s temperature was so high it wasn’t out of the question. You took two steps back and froze when a feral snarl ripped through the room, dark red eyes pinning you in your place.

“He-hey Katsuki…” Your voice stopped his growling, and it took every ounce of self-control you had to stay coherent as he advanced, your rut already trying to cloud your judgment. Your eyes darted around the room, maybe you could make it to the bathroom? Then Katsuki could ride out his heat and you could talk about it? yeah. Katsuki was only a foot away from you now, the grin he had on was somehow more unsettling than the snarl, and you shook your head to get some of your resolve back. Okay, three, two, one-

You made it maybe ten centimeters before Katuski caught you, and pushed you back down on the couch. He wasted no time sitting on your lap and tilting your face up to look into his eyes.

“You’re not getting away from me, Alpha. I know you want this. I should have done this months ago.” Sincerity shone through your omega’s lidded eyes, and you felt your small shred of resolve shrink away even more. Your hands flew to his chest to push him away.

“Ka-Katsuki it’s just- just your heat, you don’t mean-“

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean, alpha.” Katsuki was back to growling at you. His hands grabbed your wrists, pinned them down, and used his knees to keep them in place. He went back to cupping your face, red eyes boring into yours as he thought of what to say and a growl leaving him whenever you dared to look away. You were so, so obnoxiously pretty, it made it even harder to focus. Katsuki kept getting distracted by little details, like how your eyes shone and you kept biting your lip.

“You’re so fuckin stupid, ya know that? Of course, I fuckin want you, you’re my alpha- I don’t… I don’t care what other people think anymore, I just want you.” Katsuki’s tone was softer than you expected, and you could only gape at him as a blush quickly rose to your face. You knew he didn’t hate you, but hearing him say that lifted a weight off your shoulders you’d been carrying for who knows how long. The moment passed, all the softness went away as Katsuki leaned down to kiss you, and this time you kissed him back without any reservations.

#bnha #Bakugo x reader #omegaverse #bnha omegaverse #bnha x reader #omega Bakugo #alpha reader #reader insert #omegaverse imagine #bnha imagine

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harry-writings · 3 years

Text

We’ll Be Alright

The one where Harry and Y/n have a hard time coping without one another, and Harry finally understands what it means to be a husband

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

How to support me <333

Y/n knows she’s hit rock bottom when she pours her fifth glass of whiskey at three in the morning, lighting up her seventh cigarette on her bedroom balcony, as if furthering herself away from her right state of mind will somehow bring her closer to all the answers she had been looking for.

She doesn’t even smoke.

The last time she came this close to a cigarette was five months before she found out she was pregnant with Topher. It was the third time Harry didn’t show up to marriage counseling, and Y/n was so upset and so angry and so hurt that she couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop crying until it was in her hands.

This time, though, the shaking and the crying don’t stop.

She’s sitting on one of the balcony chairs, her elbows propped up on her knees, one hand resting at the roots of her hair and the other holding her glass in her palm and her cigarette between her fingers. Her leg is bouncing and her eyes are wet, zoning herself out from the rest of the world, trying to get as far away from herself as possible.

She hasn’t seen Harry in thirteen days.

Not only has she not seen Harry, but she also hasn’t talked to Harry or had any ties left to Harry for nearly two weeks now and Y/n can barely hold herself together anymore. She’s surprised she’s even gotten this far without him.

They aren’t divorced — the papers were left on the courtroom table practically untouched, and though she hates to admit it to herself, Y/n was the first to leave them behind — but they might as well have been.

He wasn’t even the one to pick up Topher today. And she didn’t realize how much she’d miss their traditions — even the ones they’ve made while being separated — until she saw Mitch standing at the other side of her door and watched as he buckled her son into the same carseat Harry once had in his car.

It was at that moment that she knew that even though they weren’t divorced, they really were over, and it was enough to push her over the edge.

Now she’s so drunk she can barely remember where she is. The skyline and the buildings look familiar, but everything is so out of touch she can’t find the same peace and comfort in it as she once used to.

Everything has faded to nothing.

And whether it’s from the alcohol, or the revisitation of bad habits, or if it’s from grieving the loss of somebody still alive, but everything to her feels numb. All that’s left is pain and sadness and the fear of living the rest of her life exactly like this — lost, hopeless, and alone.

She thinks back to the day she slept with Harry — as she does, she throws the last bit of whiskey down her throat and swallows it down without a flinch — and how that day was forever going to be the last day she had ever held him, had ever kissed him, had ever told him that she loved him.

If she had known — really, really known — it was going to be her last chance to do any of those things, she wouldn’t have pushed him away. She would have done all the things Harry wanted — would have spent the rest of their day in bed, drinking wine, celebrating all that once was and what always could be.

Because that’s what she wanted, too. That’s what she’s wanted since the beginning of this mess they’ve made of themselves, she just didn’t ever want to admit it.

This feeling that burns in her stomach at the thought of not being with Harry makes her want to scream. She can’t escape it, even as the alcohol seeps into her bloodstream and takes away every other feeling in her body.

She sobs, her chin tucking into her chest and her palms pressing to her forehead, agonizing and inhumane cries falling past her lips.

Her Harry is no longer hers.

She squeezes her eyes shut, a puddle of tears falling down her cheeks as she does so, her hand dropping the whiskey glass, her cigarette left sparked on the balcony floor as her fingers twist and pull at her hair. She hunches over her knees, trying so desperately to put herself back together again.

But it’s impossible. She knows it’s impossible because it’s him that makes her whole — him that holds her and keeps her together, even when everything else around her is falling apart.

She’d do anything to feel his arms around her now.

And it’s all she can think about — how lonely and cold and frigid it feels without the feel of his touch, and how loud the silence is without the sound of his voice in her ear, telling her how in love with her he is, giggling at her blush.

And she’s had so much to drink she can trick her mind into believing that he’s here, if she thinks about it hard enough. She mistakes the wind for the feel of him walking past her, smells his cologne in the liquor, but it’s still too quiet for her to really, truly believe it.

And she just wants to believe it. For once, she wants to pretend that he’s here with her, loving her, wanting her the way he always used to. Even if it’s the wrong thing to do.

Her hand shakingly reaches for her phone.

“‘Ello, this is Harry! I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your call, but I promise to return to you whenever I’m next available. Thank you, talk soon! Bye.”

And oh, how good it feels to hear his voice again.

It brings her back to all the times she’d call Harry while he was away on tour and how every phone call lasted at least two hours. Whether it was to check up on him, or to wish him goodnight, or to have phone sex, he never failed to make every second they were spending apart feel so worth it.

She calls him six more times just to hear his voicemail.

By the seventh and last phone call, Y/n is so low she’s tempted to just finish it off — down the pack of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey that have kept her more company than her husband. Maybe filling her void with vices will be enough to last her until the blackout, where she will finally be free.

But what will she have left if she does?

The loneliness and the sadness and the hopelessness will all still be there. She will still wake up to a cold bed, in an empty home, with nobody to share her life with. She will still have this sick and twisted feeling that happiness doesn’t exist outside of her Harry — that happiness doesn’t exist within these walls, miles away from him, with only herself to hold.

She can’t keep waking up without him anymore. She can hardly keep living.

So, she does the first and only thing that comes to her mind.

She calls Mitch.

The clock nearly at four in the morning doesn’t seem to strike her as her drunken fingers struggle to tap on his contact name, knowing that this is the only way.

“Mitch.” Y/n hiccups when he answers her call, watching as everything around her starts to spin out of her control, instinctively reaching her hand beside her to hold onto Harry’s — the way she always did whenever she got too drunk. Her heart hurts even worse than before when she’s met with nothing but the ache of what once was. “Come get me, please.”

Something in the air shifts around Mitch.

He has known Y/n for years now, yet he can barely recognize that it’s her voice on the phone. He has to look down at the name on his phone twice before pressing the speaker to his ear, his heart nearly still as he wonders the reason behind such a disturbing and unexpected request.

“Y/n… is everything alright?” He asks tentatively, carefully, because she’s never awake this late at night and has never sounded so hurt. “What’s happened, love?”

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling, almost angrily.

“My husband’s been ignoring me for the past two weeks and I’m not —” She stops, sucking in a broken breath, not even believing the words she just spoke because she never believed he’d leave her all alone for so long. “I’m not taking it so well, obviously.”

Mitch sighs.

He should have known, from the second he saw the look on her face earlier that evening, that her night was going to end like this. The love she and Harry share is a kind he’s never seen before — something so far from ordinary, something he couldn’t even understand despite the love for his own girlfriend, who lays beside him so peacefully now.

Their love is more than love. It’s deeper, more soulful, as if they have found each other in every past life and every after life. They truly are, in the most unexplainable of ways, made for one another eternally. Forever, they are theirs.

It’s both a blessing and a curse — their preexisting connection— because they are everything together, but absolutely nothing apart.

“Y/n, love... he’s not ignoring you. He wouldn’t dream of it.”

Oh, how she wishes it was true.

“He didn’t even want to see me tonight. He sees me two days out of the week and he didn’t even want that. There was a time he’d do anything just to look at me for even a second.”

He wishes he knew what to say.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t want to see her — all he does is cry and whine and sulk about how he hasn’t — he just believes leaving Y/n alone is truly what’s best for her right now.

She has barely had any time away from him. Surely, she did have the weekdays to herself and Topher, but she still had to see him every weekend — still had to face him at her doorway; still had to be around him, even on her worst days; still had to be reminded of everything that had gone wrong.

Being around him confuses her. He knows that now, and so does Mitch. But Mitch always knew. Y/n has always been too in deep with Harry. One proper look at him would be enough to send her to her knees.

He’s her greatest weakness.

She needs to be alone.

Or, so he once thought.

“Have you been drinking?”

Y/n laughs in an almost sarcastic way, the side of her wrist pulling at the corner of her eye as she wipes away at her tears.

“Drinking, frying my brain with nicotine, crying my fucking eyes out.” Her lips tremble as she stuffles away a cry. “All of the above.”

Mitch frowns.

This behavior isn’t unusual for her — it hasn’t been since her marriage with Harry started to turmoil — but it never gets easier to witness.

It’s when she’s in the depths of her own hell that she depends on the intoxication to get her by, as if it numbed her from all the pain she’d be living with without it. And as hard as it is for him to admit it, she only ever feels this way whenever it comes to Harry.

This side of her never existed until she met him.

“You want to see him, don’t you?”

To see him. To touch him. To talk to him. To hold him. She wants it all, everywhere, for the rest of the night — for the rest of her life if he were to let her.

But she can’t get ahead of herself. She won’t be able to survive it if she does.

“Even if it’s just for a second.”

His heart falls.

“Will it get you to put down the drugs and alcohol?”

Her eyes linger at the nearly empty bottle of whiskey, and though it still calls for her just as strongly, she knows it’s not what she truly wants.

“Yeah.”

She can hear him smile softly through the phone.

“Then hang tight, love. I’m on my way.”

Harry hasn’t been able to sleep all night.

And if he wanted to get technical, he supposes he hasn’t been able to sleep since he and Y/n nearly signed their marriage away, but tonight is far, far worse than anything else he’s ever felt.

His body senses his good days. The sun somehow brighter, the rain lighter, the clouds thinner — he sees it all so differently on the days he goes to see Y/n. He’s used to the routine, he looks forward to it all week, even if it is just to see her for a couple minutes at her doorway.

So to say his body feels the loss of her is an understatement.

He caught himself reaching his hand over to her side of the bed one too many times, only to shiver and whine when met with the emptiness of it. His fingers would squeeze at her pillowcase, hugging it closer to him, fantasizing about her smell and her feel as he tried to drift into his dreamland — that only, of course, consisted of her.

But it was helpless.

He moves to the living room couch, where he finds himself flipping through the photo album of their wedding day — the same one he claimed he had thrown out when Y/n asked if she could keep it, moments before she was about to move out after he had brought the divorce papers home.

Of course he hadn’t thrown it out, but he could never tell Y/n about the lies he only told to make himself feel better about his decision.

He was angry and he was hurt, both of which consumed him in the scariest and most dangerous of ways, leading him to sink his teeth in a lie and spitting it in her face just to make her feel all those things, too. Though he’s sure she already did.

But as he flips through the pages now, reliving that day torturously in his head, remembering how beautiful she looked and how in love he was, he can’t help but feel like these moments weren’t his to take.

He had kept their home — had kept the furniture they bought together when they first moved in, kept all the movies and cd’s they’d play together each night, kept all the pictures she had chosen for the walls and tables he hadn’t had a clue on how to decorate.

He stayed so perfectly in their past while she was forced to move on, away from him, when she wasn’t even the one who wanted to leave.

He had truly taken everything from her — her love, her trust, her marriage, her home — and he didn’t even have the decency to give her the one and only thing she had asked for before she left.

That day was hers, it always has been and it always will be. She never once gave up on it the way he once had, always holding it so close to her, always cherishing its moments.

This simply doesn’t belong to him.

He presses his forehead down to a picture of Y/n wildly smiling at the camera, her hair styled up, makeup slightly smudged, as if holding her to him. And he rubs his thumb along the laminate, right against her cheek, in the same way she always liked.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs out before he can try to reason that it’s not her, that she can’t hear him, that she can’t feel the way he’s holding and touching her right now, that he looks like a lovesick idiot for thinking this is anything close to the real thing.

None of that matters to him right now, though, as he holds the picture to him and realizes this is the closest he has been to her in so long. And she needs to know.

She just needs to know.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Harry must have cried himself to sleep because the next thing he knows, his front door slams open against the foyer wall, julting him off of the photo album and leaving him with dry and confused eyes.

Without much of a second thought, he throws the photo album off his lap and stands frantically from the couch, his head twisting around in an attempt to follow the footsteps scurrying towards the living room.

He knows it’s her just from that sound alone.

“Y/n?” He calls out in question, still delusional from his sleeping state, wondering if he had even woken up at all.

But it’s when he sees her stumbling toward him with soaken and beaten eyes that he knows this isn’t just a dream — that she really is here, back in their home, with him at last. And he would be happy, would be so goddamn happy to have her in front of him again, if she didn’t look so broken.

He can’t stand the sight of her like this.

“Y/n?” He asks again, devastated.

But she doesn’t answer him. Rather, she does the one and only thing her mind can make sense of now that he’s in front of her again.

Her trembling hands cradle the back of his neck before pulling her to him, their lips meeting for a sloppy, drunken, frenzied kiss — one that nearly has Harry falling to his knees before her.

She pushes him onto the couch, barely giving him any time to compose himself before she sits herself down on his lap and kisses him again, hard — harder than before and harder than she ever has, she thinks.

Teeth clattering, tongues battling, mouths opening, lips smothering. It’s desperate and messy and sloppy, but she doesn’t want it any other way.

She knows this feeling. She wants this feeling. It’s what she keeps going back to because it’s safe and warm and familiar. She could be in the middle of nowhere, lost with no direction or any sense of belonging, yet the feel of his lips on hers would somehow make her feel at home, just the way she is.

She moans against him, her hands splayed on the back of his head and neck as if to keep him there — on her, with her.

His hands, however, don’t know where to go. They switch between her arms and her thighs, setting boundaries for himself because he’d give into her in a heartbeat if he were to touch her just right. And he’s already doing so much he shouldn’t, he’d ruin himself if he were to go any further.

So as a subtle way to slow it down, he drags his lips down to her chin before leaving open-mouthed kisses along the shape of her neck — devouring her taste, savoring the sweetness.

He’s missed this. He’s missed her, so much so he can’t even remember the reason he let it all go. Right now, in this moment, nothing seems worth it enough to ever give this up.

He can hardly think straight.

“Y/n, please don’t do this to me…” Harry whines against her collarbone, her touch and smell and feel overwhelming him beyond all forms of comprehension. “This isn’t you. We’ve been here before and —”

“And I want to make it right this time.”

He nearly cries.

He bites down gently on the base of her throat, nibbling at it, a strangled whine falling from his lips as his hands slither to her back, pushing his body up against hers as if to bring her closer. And he growls silently to himself as she starts grinding herself against him.

“Y/n —”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Baby…” He tries again, to which she giggles and smiles as she nibbles on the lobe of his ear. He gets lost in it for a moment — to hear her laugh, to feel her hands rub along his chest and up his neck, to have her so close, like nothing ever happened — but he snaps himself out of it just as quickly as he fell into it. “You’re drunk.”

He tries to reason, to make her see that he does want this, more than anything else in the world, but he can’t. Because if it were to happen again, he wants it to be real. He wants her to mean it, to need it, to be all in it with him the way he’s all in it with her.

He wants her to stay.

“I’m only drunk because I miss you so much.” She confesses breathlessly to him, to which he groans and throws his head back, as if he were in pain. “So give me what I want and nothing else will matter.”

His hands find purchase to her hips, his fingers squeezing at the flesh of them as he tries to steady the movement of her groin against his, desperate to hold himself together. But she makes it so hard when she knows exactly where and how to touch him — when she knows that he can never resist her all over him, begging for more.

His eyes are pinched forward and closed, his head still hanging off the edge of the couch, words seeming to fail him as she moans against his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the flesh of it as she works herself harder against him.

“Fuck, you know I want to.” He croaks out, his hands giving into their urge to wander every dip and curve and inch of her, even the places he shouldn’t. “You know I do.”

Good, she thinks. I want you to want it. I need you to want it. I want you to want it so bad you give it to me all night, all morning, all day. I need you to want me.

She lifts her head up from his shoulder so that she can look at him with a winning smirk, both of her hands fisting at the collar of his t-shirt to steady herself upon his lap, her movements now smooth and effortless, giving him everything he needs to give in.

He lets out a proper moan at this, allowing himself a moment of weakness to feed his undying greed.

His mouth hangs open and practically drools as he touches her in ways he’s been aching to, rubbing himself against her, allowing her lips to wander anywhere and everywhere they craved.

It all feels so good and all so right, he wishes it was enough to make things work, but he knows in his heart that it isn’t.

Not now, at least.

“But I can't — I can’t take advantage of you. I — oh, fuck!” He yelps from below her when her arm sneaks between them so her fingers can scratch at the skin of his upper inner thigh, mercilessly giving him everything that has ever made him feel good.

And it’s all too much.

One more right touch in the right place and he’s done for, as pathetic and weak as that makes him. But it’s only for her. Only for her does he find himself shuddering and moaning and creeping on the edge for, one push away from falling off, waiting to be caught by her.

After all this time, after all they had been through — all the fighting, all the tears, all the downs and lows they’ve lost themselves in — she still consumes him whole. She still is and forever will be the only person he’ll ever love like this.

There is nothing and nobody else. There is only her.

Which is why he can’t let himself do it. He can’t let her do it.

So right before he reaches the end, his hands frantically grab onto hers and pin them down against each side of his legs, her forehead meeting his shoulder, her body collapsing onto his.

“No!” He bites through clenched teeth and shut eyes, his hands squeezing hers as his body ricochets back to reality, yet still holding her close. “No, no, fuck. No.”

And whatever remained of Y/n’s heart burns to a crisp at that one godforsaken word.

Harry never denies her.

Even at their lowest and darkest moments, her simple touch made him powerless. He succumbed to her even when he told himself he wouldn’t, gave into her touch like a drug he couldn’t get off of no matter how hard he tried, drowned in her love even when he swore he no longer craved it.

It’s the very reason Y/n found herself pregnant in the midst of their downfall. Harry never stopped wanting her.

She should have known that everything was different now, but she never expected it to be like this.

“Oh.” Y/n’s lips tremble, her eyes wide with woe, glossy with burning tears as she looks at him through slow blinks. “I get it, I —”

“Y/n…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

She’s nearly sobbing now, her breaths heavy and frantic as she pushes herself away from him, practically falling off of his lap. And if his head wasn’t so clouded from what had just happened between them, he wouldn’t have let her go.

She’s a mess, a kind he’s never seen in her before and it breaks him in two when he sees her face soaked in tears, her hands trembling as they push her hair back, her eyes looking at everything but him.

He is just so sick of her looking away from him, and so tired of watching her cry.

He never wanted this.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Harry speaks softly, his hand reaching out to grab ahold of hers before she has the chance to walk out on him again. And the shock of his touch is enough to bring her right back to him. “Baby, this is your home more than it is mine. Your son is here, I am here, don’t ever think you have to be sorry for wanting to come home.”

She’s silent for a moment, trying to make sense of his words and what they mean. But it’s so hard to focus on anything other than how good it feels to be holding his hand, and how that’s all it took to get the room to stop spinning around her.

She trusts him.

Whatever he wants out of this and whatever he’s thinking, she trusts. Her body wouldn’t be so reliant on him if she didn’t. And it’s been years since she’s felt this feeling she feels so fiercely now, but she could never mistake it. It was once the most familiar feeling in the world to her.

He rubs at her knuckles, patiently waiting for her to respond. But she doesn’t, her gaze just drunkenly fixated at their intertwined fingers, a hint of longing in her eye.

Even when he’s right here, holding her, convincing her to stay… she still feels as though he isn’t all hers. She wants more of him, as if she hasn’t seen and touched and loved every inch of his body and claimed every last beat of his heart.

She is the only one and yet she feels as though she’ll never be enough for him, after all this time, after all these years spent together. It makes him feel like the worst person in the world.

He lifts her hand up to his lips, as delicate and gentle as possible, just the way she likes.

“And as for kissing me.” He adds, eyes looking up fondly at her as he kisses at her knuckles one by one. “You’re my wife, it’s what I want. I just don’t want us to make the same mistakes we once did.”

He settles her fingers against his mouth for a moment longer before pulling her closer to where he sits, looking insistently in her hopeful eyes.

“If we sleep together… it’ll only drive us more apart, just like it did the last time. And I swear to god —” he hangs his head off the edge of the couch again, his fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose, trying to fathom the idea of it. “If I have to go another day without seeing you, I’m going to fucking lose it. I’m fucking miserable.”

She knows it’s true. Whether she wanted to hear it or not, sleeping together without speaking to one another would only bring them back to the same dark, numbing cycle they’ve been through for far too long now.

But she wants to milk it — wants him to do whatever he can to get her to stay because she needs to know he really wants it, needs to know he really wants her, before it’s too late.

And when Harry lifts his head back up to look at her, his heart nearly explodes from within him.

“Come here.” He tugs softly on her hand, a small smile playing on his lips when he sees Y/n pouting down at him with furrowed brows — the same face she used to make whenever she wanted to be angry with him, but couldn’t. It brings him back to all their happiest times. “Come here!”

He pulls her down to him until she lands on his lap, both of them laughing as she nearly trips over her own two feet.

The moment stills when their eyes meet, however, the giggling dying down and their smiles falling as they captivate each other with just a single look.

His fingers move her hair out of her face, his palm resting on the side of her cheek, his thumb rubbing along the skin of her blush as he admires just how beautiful she’s gotten since the last time he had seen her.

And she does the same to him — her fingers pulling at his hair, dancing along his scalp, humming in admiration as her eyes wander every dip and curve of his face. He is just so perfect, it endlessly mesmerizes her.

“I’ve missed you.” She confesses softly, her gaze trained on his lips, her tongue poking out to lick her own.

“I’ve missed you so much more, my love.”

And they meet for a kiss — a real kiss this time. Not the hungry, desperate, fevered kisses they’ve been sharing since their separation. It’s slow, their lips just settling against each other’s, refusing to move, only leaning in deeper when desired.

It’s how he kissed her on their wedding day.

She remembers how different it was, now, as she feels it again — full of vows and promises, hopes and dreams, a hint of sorrow for all the times he had let her down, and how he’d never wish to do it again.

Quite truthfully, she never wants it to end. She could stay pressed against his lips like this all night and never once get tired of it — would probably beg for more if it ever came down to it. But she doesn’t have to anymore, she knows that now.

They both pull away together, dopey and loopy smiles painted on their faces. And it doesn’t get better than this.

“Can I show you something?” He whispers to her, his thumb pets at her temple, circles and circles. “And know that when I give it to you, it’s me trying to make this right again? No matter how much it hurts?”

His breath falters when her lips press gently against his wrist, humming a small “mhm” against the skin of it.

She always did that whenever she could. Whether he be holding her cheek, or rubbing at her head, or running his fingers through her hair, her lips would seek just the smallest bit more of him. And it always warmed him to feel it. It reminded him that yes, she did in fact love him and want him and need him with the same burning he has for her.

It always felt too good to be true.

And to know that she’s feeling it all over again makes every worry in the world collapse around him, leaving him with nothing but the life he had always desired with her, and the hope that it only gets better from here.

He smiles in endearment, his own lips seeking the sole of her cheek before he turns his body to the fallen photo album, his fingers shaking as he reaches for it.

She gasps before he even has the chance to sit up fully.

“Is that —” she stops before she finishes, her hand flying over her suddenly trembling lips because it is.

He looks at her with eyes full of regret as he holds the photo album out for her to take, but she’s in too much shock. All she can process is that it’s here, still alive in the home they once shared, not shredded and burned and broken like she always thought it was.

And it just doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that over a year ago, he told her a lie that ripped her apart from the inside out every day since he’d spoken it. It doesn’t matter that all she had left of their wedding were the moments captured in her memory, to which she went back to every night before bed.

It just doesn’t matter because she’s just so happy to see it again — so, so, so fucking happy that she can’t help but sob into her palm, admiring it, somehow at peace with the idea of reuniting with it with her husband right beside her, shedding the same tears as she is.

All she has ever wanted is happening all at once, and she couldn’t ask for more.

“Can we look through it?” She sniffles, her fingers graciously running along the cover of it.

He pulls her in closer, his head nodding, a breathy laugh of euphoria falling from his lips.

As if she even had to ask.

It was the next morning that Harry decided he couldn’t do it anymore.

Upon waking up to an empty bed, there wasn’t this overwhelming sense of sadness rippling through him, or loneliness drowning him to his duvets, refusing to set him free. It felt… right, and warm, and safe, and like it had always meant to be this way.

He was weightless as he carried his naked body over to his dresser, where he slipped on a new pair of briefs and one of his plain white t-shirts. He even found himself humming a tune he only ever sang to on good mornings.

And it was when he made his way downstairs that he started to hear his company.

He found Y/n in his day old t-shirt, holding Topher at her hip, flipping pancakes at the stovetop, humming and bouncing to the beat of a song they played during their wedding ceremony.

Her hair was unbrushed, her nail polish chipped, one of her socks pulled too high and the other too low, in her most hungover state. And the world stopped turning then, it seemed. Because it was the most simple and most casual sight to see, yet something he was once so blinded to.

He finally felt at home.

And it was as if nothing else had ever really, truly mattered. His world simply revolved around the two littles ones in his kitchen, getting their hands messy with pancake batter, giggling with every other step they took.

And he knew he couldn’t do it anymore.

Which is exactly how he ended up here — seven hours later, standing on one knee in front of his wife, whose hand fits so perfectly in his.

She sits cross-legged upon the kitchen chair, her plate half empty and on her second glass of her mocktail. And if he had more preparation, he would have taken her out instead of settling for her favorite home cooked meal. But something about doing this here, in the home they once shared together, at their happiest hour, feels much more real to him.

“H? What are you doing?” Y/n asks with wide eyes, looking down at their intertwined hands, squeezing onto his tighter.

“I know we’re already married, but I needed to do this anyway.”

He sucks in a breath as the pad of his thumb passes through her knuckles, slightly flicking her engagement ring in the process.

“When I left earlier, it wasn’t for work. I mean, it was for work but not — but not in the way you may think.”

Y/n tilts her head down at him, her eyebrows furrowed. Her heart races with all the endless possibilities, the pit in her stomach falling with it. And she really does try to not seem worried, but she can’t help but let it crash over her.

She had just gotten her husband back. Finally, she’s his and he’s hers and that’s all she ever wanted. That’s all she ever needed, so how is she expected to say goodbye so soon?

How would she ever survive it?

“I terminated the contract.”

Her heart stops beating.

Her body sits frozen still as Harry bites at his bottom lip, where he hides a smile.

This truly is it — the beginning of their forever, the start to the life they always wanted to share alone, with no distractions, no obligations, no anything besides each other and their child — and he doesn’t want it any other way.

“I’m done with having a career that takes me away from you. And I’m so sick and tired of pretending like this is the life I wanted to have with you. It wasn’t, baby. It isn’t.”

But she just can’t believe what she’s hearing.

The words had translated yet somehow, she can’t make sense of them. She can’t make sense of anything as her mind twists and turns around what they could mean and what it could mean for them as a couple.

“You — you terminated the contract? I don’t — I don’t understand. I —”

"If it were ever to come down to you or my music, I’d choose you in a heartbeat.” The fingers of his free hand twist at her wedding band, hypnotizing her. “I did it all for you — the writing, the touring, the traveling. My future with you was all I ever cared about and yet, I had somehow convinced myself that my music meant more to me, when it never really did.”

Her breaths get deeper and deeper, completely and utterly overwhelmed. And if it weren’t for the tears of happiness leaking from her eyes, Harry wouldn’t know what she’s truly feeling inside.

But he knows. Oh, how he knows.

“I choose you, Y/n. And I choose Topher and I choose our Alaskan home everyday for the rest of our lives. That’s what I choose. That’s what I will always choose.”

It’s those words that make her really start to lose it.

How long she had been waiting for this moment, she can’t even remember anymore. So much time has passed and yet everyday, she dreamed and hoped and prayed and died to hear him say that to her.

She had been waiting for so long, she once believed them to be impossible.

But here he is on one knee again, sacrificing his entire life and heart and soul just to make their marriage right. He wants to leave the music behind rather than leaving her to be all alone. He wants to move away from the life he had built for himself and rather spend the rest of it with her.

He wants her, for the first time in what feels like centuries, he finally wants her.

“But — but you — how? How did you — what did you do?”

“Don’t worry about the how, okay? What matters is that I made it work and I have more than enough to last our family a lifetime. I promise you that.”

One of her hands reaches forward to cup at his cheek, pulling herself closer to him because she needs to feel him, all of him — needs to feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his breath.

She needs it all, all around her, until she drowns in it.

“Don’t care about the money, just — just want to make sure you’re okay.”

His wife is reaching for him, pulling him in, wanting and loving him despite everything he put her through… how could he not be okay?

He’s on top of the world right now.

“Baby, I’m so much more than okay. I have you, don’t I?” She nods her head as she wipes her tears away, sniffling with trembling lips and shaking hands. “Then that’s all I need.”

She sobs against him, her face tucked in his shoulder as he holds her hands between them, kissing at her head.

And sometime in the near future — when Harry and Y/n have found everything they had lost, have grown to be better together than ever spent apart, and have become the best parents they could ever be to their son — he’ll rent out a small venue in the outskirts of town and renew his wedding vows to his wife, whom he plans to never be parted from, even in death.

“So, Y/n, baby love.” They both giggle at the pet name, her head lifting from his shoulder and meeting his eye halfway. “Will you please do the honors of being my lawfully wedded wife, and the mother of our disgustingly perfect child, in our home in Alaska? Forever?”

She nods her head, her thoughts clouded by euphoria, her hand still in her husband’s.

As if he even had to ask.

#THIS REALLY TOOK ME FOREVER #THE WRITERS BLOCK WAS REAL HERE #BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT ANYWAYS :D #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 4

Snape looks back on your days at Hogwarts, how your friendship came to be, and how it came to end.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 4 .:Budding Feelings and the Beginning of the End:.

Severus Snape had made a lot of mistakes in his life, and seeing you again after all these years was forcing him to relive every single one of them.

He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, shrouded in the darkness and grim silence of his empty house. He never thought he'd see you again, and certainly not under these circumstances. When he'd laid his eyes on you in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place he couldn't believe it. He, much like the rest of the Order (except for Molly, apparently) assumed you wouldn't be at these meetings any longer. After James and Lily were murdered and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, you'd left London and headed to New York under the Ministry's alliance with MACUSA, hoping to help bridge the gap between muggle-borns and purebloods in America. He knew you had been back to meet Harry a handful of times, but he also knew that being in this city brought up painful memories for you, so he was as stunned as anyone else to see you standing there in the doorway, greeting them as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

He could see that traveling had been good for you. He'd heard through the Hogwarts circuit that you were back on auror duty across the world, taking special assignments from Dumbledore and the Minister for Magic himself. You seemed like you were doing better, but when you turned to smile at him he could see the hesitation and the sadness that brewed behind your eyes, likely his doing.

He desperately wanted things to go back to what they were before—

Before he'd ruined it. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright students,” Professor Slughorn said as everyone finished filing inside the room, “today we're going to be pairing off into new partners for the upcoming project.”

Groans and nervous chatter flooded the sound space immediately, no one very thrilled with having to work with someone new out of their control. You cast a glance over to Lily who looked equally displeased. You liked being her partner, you both excelled at the subject and worked really well together.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Slughorn said, waving the complaints off, “However, I am going to be giving you the luxury of choosing your own partners this time, but everyone—”

The energy in the room instantly shifted, everyone shoving around people to get to their friends.

“—keep in mind, if I see any slacking off or trouble brewing in these new partnerships I will not hesitate to rearrange them!”

Slughorns's words were completely lost among the commotion as people paired off before you could even get your bearings. Snape stalled as he stared at you from across the room; Lily had already been dragged away by Mary, and his brain was trying to work out how to ask you to be his partner.

Suddenly an arm was slung over your shoulder and you turned towards the new presence in surprise. You looked up to see Evan Rosier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his Slytherin tie loose around his neck.

Oh, sod it, Snape cursed internally. He was too late.

“Wanna partner up?” Rosier asked, a crooked grin gracing his chiseled features, “It'd be my honor to have the smartest Potions partner in class, not to mention the most attractive.”

You rolled your eyes at the praise. Evan was your friend, and he was nice to look at, but if he thought that you would be willing to do all the work for the both of you in exchange for some cheap compliments, then he had another thing coming. You locked eyes with Snape from across the room

“It would be your honor,” you smirked up at Rosier, “but I already have a partner, sorry.”

It took Snape a few seconds to realize what you were doing, but once he snapped out of it he made his way towards you. You almost chuckled at how robotic he looked as he did, clearly shocked.

Rosier looked between the two of you and rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” he said, letting you go and pushing you lightly in Snape's direction, “but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He sent a wink your way that left Snape's blood inexplicably boiling,

“Thanks for that,” you grinned, “and just so you know, I would have chosen you even if he didn't come up to me, so don't get all pouty about it, okay?”

Severus just looked at you blankly. Even after four years it was frightening how well you were able to read him; for a moment he was scared that he'd accidentally projected his thoughts to you, but he wasn't anywhere near that level of legillemency yet. He wanted to say something that had some semblance of gratitude but settled on:

“Whatever.”

To which you just laughed and dragged him to your now shared desk.

You really were something else.

“Now then,” Professor Slughorn addressed the room, “today we will be beginning the new unit on toxic concoctions, starting with the Draught of Living Death. If you would all turn to page ten of your books, we will get started presently.”

You turned open your book and Severus did the same. As he did, you noticed that nearly every page was covered in small notes littering the margins, with some of the instructions circled, crossed out, or modified. You were hardly surprised, Snape had been pouring over this book since last year when he'd stolen it from a fifth year Slytherin who'd been speaking poorly of you (that last part you were unaware of).

You turned your attention to the directions, reaching over to preheat the burner so your cauldron would be hot enough by the time you began. However, as soon as you lit the flame with the tip of your wand, your cauldron shot up into the air, hitting the ceiling with a loud BANG! before crashing down back onto your table, breaking several of the glass instruments that were settled there.

Your face burned embarrassment as everyone in the room turned to look at you in shock.

“Snape, (L/n),” Slughorn said, surprised, “whatever happened?”

“I. . .” you began, not knowing what to say, “I don't know, I'm sorry, Professor.”

“Quite all right,” he said uncertainly, restoring your table and equipment with a wave of his wand, “just be sure whatever that was doesn't happen again.”

“Of course,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the snickering around you. If you noticed the way that it stopped as soon as Snape sent a deathly glare at the culprits, you didn't show it. You reached down to grab your cauldron, noticing that the bottom was dusted in some sort of orange powder. As you turned it over, a note fell out of it.

You're welcome, (L/n). Sorry I couldn't be there for the fireworks~

J.P.

“That sneaky little, ugh,” you crumpled the note, growling in frustration.

“What is it?” Severus asked, peering over your shoulder to glance at the paper. However, as soon as you tried to show it to him it vanished in your hands in a wisp of glowing embers. You turned to look at Severus who was still staring at you expectantly.

“It was Potter,” you rolled your eyes.

Anger flashed in Severus' eyes before confusion replaced it momentarily.

“But that was your cauldron, not mine. Why would Potter want to mess with you?”

And now the anger was back again. Snape was used to Potter’s crew targeting him; bullying and suffering through minor hexes had become an everyday occurrence, but when he imagined them doing anything to you it was enough to make him see red.

“Ah, well. . .” you trailed off, deciding that telling him you'd yelled at the group of Gryffindors: 'if you jerks want to have a go at Severus you're gonna have to get through me first!' was a bad idea.

“I sort of, maybe, kind of. . . started it?” you said. Severus raised a brow at you. “Look, Potter was asking for it, okay? It was about time someone messed with him for a change. And besides, it was hilarious, even Lily got a kick out of watching that broom hit him in the head.”

Severus chuckled at that, a hint of pride welling in his chest at yours and Lily's shared distaste for the Potter boy.

“But that was the last straw,” you declared, grabbing a Sopophorus bean from the bowl in front of you and a knife to cut it as per the instructions, “I'm sick and tired of him acting like he's better than everyone else,” you said, stabbing down with your knife for emphasis. The Sopophorus bean jumped as you did, sliding out from under your blade and skidding across your cutting board. You huffed as you grabbed it again, placing it back down and holding it in place. “And he walks around with that little posse of his like he runs this school!” You brought your knife down again, moving your fingers at the last second, but the bean still managed to slip away, trying to bounce back into the bowl.

“This means war!” you seethed, grabbing the runaway legume again, now at your wit's end, and crushing it in your fist. It stopped jumping as the beet-red juice of the plant dripped down your arm, and Severus looked at you with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, that's one way to do it,” he said.

“Shove off,” you said playfully, throwing the bean in his direction. He dodged it easily, his smile growing.

“No, really,” he said, almost more to himself than you as he scribbled out the word 'cut' and replaced it with 'crush' in his notebook, “you might be better at this than you let on.”

You blushed at the unexpected compliment, backhanded as it was.

“Excuse you, I happen to be fantastic at Potions,” you said, grabbing another bean and avoiding his gaze.

“Right, that's why your cauldron exploded.”

“That was sabotage,” you shot back.

“I was talking about last week,” Severus said cheekily, taking in your flustered expression.

You both went back to your ingredients, eventually discovering that crushing the beans with the flat of a knife was the best way to extract the juice without them jumping. You watched Severus out of the corner of your eye as he measured out the African Sea water, adding it gradually as he stirred the mixture counter-clockwise. The elixir turned a bright blue color, shimmering as if light were being reflected off of it. He continued on with the formula, snapping off a few fluxweed sprigs before adding them and lowering the heat with his wand, hardly looking at the instructions at all.

You wondered where this newfound confidence had come from. Severus was usually so rigid and withdrawn, but right now he looked more at ease than you had ever seen him. A spark was present in his eyes as he worked that you rarely ever saw, and it made you smile despite yourself.

The rest of your potion making process went on without a hitch, and you silently applauded yourself as you watched the other students around you struggle to get their concoctions together. Even Lily seemed to be having trouble, though Mary wasn't really helping other than offering moral support.

You turned back to focus on your own potion, stirring it with the ladle and mesmerized by the way it began to turn a deep plum color. Meanwhile, Severus was cleaning up your shared station, looking over at the brew. His brows furrowed as he examined it.

“Just stir it a bit more,” he said, coming up behind you and placing his hand on top of yours, “the color is still off.”

Your face burned at the unexpected contact; Snape certainly wasn't a touchy person, so the act caught you completely off guard, though you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Severus nearly jumped backwards, absolutely mortified when he realized what he was doing. It was him micromanaging more than anything; he was so focused on getting the potion right he didn't even notice he was moving his own body as he gave you the instruction.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling quite possibly the lamest he'd ever felt in his life.

“It's okay,” you said, biting the inside of your lip nervously and continuing to stir like he said. Your light response allowed Snape to relax, his shoulders lowering a full three inches. He'd been certain you would have reacted to his mistake with disgust or repulsion, but you didn't. What did that mean? You were utterly confusing. Despite how well you could read him, Severus was unable to get a read on you at all. If he had been, he would have noticed the tiny smile on your face as you stirred, silently wishing his hand were back on yours.

You and Snape stood at attention as Slughorn peered down at your potion, looking mildly impressed. He reached into his robes, procuring an oak leaf from who knows where, and dropped it into your cauldron. The leaf floated on top of the liquid for just a moment before its edges began to burn. It furled from the unseen heat, folding in on itself and disappearing into the inky depths of the liquid. Slughorn's expression lit up, his impression no longer mild.

“Merlin's beard, it's perfect!” he exclaimed, “in all my years I've never seen a pair recreate this potion exactly as you two have done today.”

You beamed at the praise, your smile only widening as you saw your emotions mirrored in Severus' face, albeit more subtly.

Over the course of your fourth year, you and Snape continued to excel in Potions, receiving much praise from Professor Slughorn and a lot of glares from your fellow students. However, there was something else that continued that year, and that was your increasing interactions with James Potter.

“I just don't get why you even bother with him,” Snape had said to you one day while you were in Potions. Your prank war with James was at its peak, and you were sidetracked that day in class coming up with new ideas to get back at him.

“It's a full on battle now, Sev,” you said, “I can't back down! Now, for my next one I was thinking something along the lines of a callback to one of his earlier stunts. Maybe get him back for tampering with my cauldron at the beginning the year.”

“(Y/n)—”

“I've got a few friends in Gryffindor, and apparently he talks about his prank plans way too loudly in the common room, so I have a head start on this one. They mentioned something about my shampoo—“

“(Y/n),” Severus stressed, finally catching your attention. You looked up at him, embarrassed at you rambling. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, “he's just baiting you. You know that.”

“It keeps them from doing anything that targets you, right?” you questioned back.

Severus didn't know what to say at that. It was true, ever since you had declared war on James, he and his stupid friends hadn't really bothered with him at all. Were you doing this for him? He didn't know what to do with the thought.

You were, of course, but you thought it better not to mention that in the last few months this had been going on, you'd also begun to find the rivalry and banter between you and James fun.

“Gather 'round students, gather 'round!” Slughorn beckoned the class over, disrupting your train of thought and putting an end to your conversation, “now, would anyone like to identify the potion in this cauldron here?” He gestured to a shockingly pink liquid that seemed to swirl on its own. Plum and periwinkle smoke wafted through the air above it in delicate spirals.

“That's Amortentia,” Lily said, “it's a love potion that's supposed to smell different to everyone depending on what scents attract them.”

“Right you are, Miss Evans,” Slughorn said proudly, “would you like to tell us what you smell?”

“Cinnamon,” she started slowly, “warm spices, butterbeer, sandalwood. . .” her cheeks reddened significantly, as if she'd made some sort of realization. “Th-that's all.” You stared at her quizzically but she just shook her head. You'd have to ask her about this later. . .

“(L/n),” Slughorn said, “would you be so kind as to do the same?”

“Sure,” you said, stepping up to the cauldron. It was captivating, almost drawing you in physically. “Wild lavender,” you said, smiling, your mother had a garden full of them when you were growing up, “rain when it hits the pavement, and old leather books.” Scents you wouldn't realize until much later all correlated with a certain person.

“Very different scents for very different people,” Professor Slughorn said, “thank you for demonstrating, you two. Now, we will not be brewing this potion today for obvious reasons. It is incredibly dangerous, capable of creating not true love, but unhinged obsession. What we will be doing, however, is studying its effects. . .”

“Strongest love potion in the world, huh?” Evan suddenly appeared at your side, “funny, I could have sworn it smelled just like you, although you wouldn't need a potion to reign me in~”

“Put a sock in it, Rosier,” you said, shoving him away playfully.

“Aw, come on, just one date wouldn't hurt,” he said, “I'm pulling out all my best lines here!”

“That's the best you've got?”

“Ouch.”

Snape couldn't help but glare at the Slytherin boy, not liking how close he was to you. Nice as he seemed, Snape knew how he could really be. He didn't think you'd be such good friends with Rosier if you knew he was knee deep in the dark arts as soon as the sun set on the castle. Then again, Severus wasn't one to talk.

Over the course of the year he noticed that you only grew closer to James, something that bothered him immensely. He was grateful that you had gotten his bullying to stop, but he hated that the way you had gone about it was to turn Potter into a friend. . .

“Merlin, he keeps looking over at you, Lils,” you said.

Lily and Severus looked over to where James sat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their corner table as usual. Somehow they always managed to be at The Three Broomsticks at the exact same time as your trio, almost as if they knew you were there. James Potter was, in fact, looking towards your table, until your friends not-so-discreetly turned to look at him and he diverted his gaze elsewhere.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you took another sip of your butterbeer.

Lily looked between you and James' table for a moment before turning back to you.

“Actually, (Y/n), he's staring at you.”

You looked at her like she'd grown a second head but then began to laugh.

“Is he? Jeeze, what a creep,” you said, but with affection in your voice that wasn't missed by Severus, “it's probably because I saved his ass the other day and he's still reeling from it.”

“Oh,” she said, a hint of what you swore was relief in her tone until she realized what you said, “Wait, you what?”

“Sirius and I were talking in the forest and we got ambushed by Malfoy's motley crew,” you said, “and Potter showed up because of course he did. It was just a little duel, no big deal.”

“What?!” Lily said, concern written all over her face, “they fancy the dark arts, (Y/n), you could have been hurt!”

Severus stared into his drink, unable to look at either of you.

“I'm fine, Lils,” you insisted, “and trust me, I don't think Malfoy's going to be bothering anyone anymore. Just show him a picture of a squid and he'll probably screech like a banshee.”

Lily laughed along with you, partially in confusion, until the first part of your statement hit her with a slight delay.

“Hold on, you were in the forest with Black? And did you just call him Sirius?” she asked, her teasing making your face flush.

“We just. . . figured some stuff out. . . It was nothing like what you're thinking, so drop it,” you grumbled, taking another drink to hide your embarrassed face.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n),” Lily sang, taking a sip of her own drink.

Severus felt jealousy bubble up in him like a disease. He cast his gaze upwards, his eyes locking momentarily with James'. His arch rival rose a cocky brow at him, his gaze unmistakably shifting to you and Lily before staring Snape down again. Severus took a sharp breath to steel himself, that feeling in the pit of his stomach never really going away.

That was the beginning of the end.

Read chapter 5 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy

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angelamajiki · 3 years

Text

[ study date - part two ]

PARING: Bully! Yandere! Hawks x Reader x Bully! Yandere! Dabi

CW: quirkless college au, yandere, noncon/dubcon, mindbreak, dacryphilia, boot licking, boot humping, humiliation, degradation, cum eating, spanking, physical abuse, verbal abuse, scumbag dabihawks

AN: finally part two is here!! sorry about the long wait. mind the tags and enjoy!!

PART ONE

The situation was all too suspicious. You couldn't put your finger on it, but you knew the two of them had something to do with it. They always have something conniving up their sleeves, inventing new ways to torment you.

Not less than a day ago did you receive that dreaded phone call, and of course, the pair of them were there to witness your breakdown because of it. Because of your failing grade in chemistry, your scholarship was revoked which meant that you lost your housing privileges for the campus. And those two seemed all too happy to watch you crumble and sob in front of them like a child.

“Sounds like you're down on your luck, princess. What's a girl to do?”

Touya was all too pleased about the situation, the smug bastard. A warm hand made a place for itself on your lower back as it rubbed circles of faux sympathy. Sobs dribbled from your mouth as his hands moved lower to grip your hips from behind.

“Now, now, Touya. Don't tease her like that.” Keigo tutted, leaning against the wall next to the two of you. “Perhaps we coulda let our girlfriend come stay with us.” He sighed dramatically, quirking his brow at you before looking away.

So that was it. They wanted you to grovel at their feet and beg for mercy if you wanted their help, just like last time.

“Too bad we don't have one, doll. Ya made yourself pretty clear that you just aren't interested in us. Such a shame, we coulda been a real big help, ya know.”

Touya patted you on the back before walking off down the hall with Keigo, leaving your tear-stricken face all alone.

“W...Wait!” It came out more desperate than you could have hoped. The two of them stopped but refused to turn to look at you. The silence was deafening. “I’ll go out with the both of you. I'll be your girlfriend.”

Admission alone should have been good enough for them, but your constant denial had left them greedy for more.

“And just how do we know you're not looking to mooch off us, babe?”

Rats, they were right. You had no way to prove you wouldn't just use them, abuse them, and lose them.

“Touya, I thought I said to stop teasing princess.” Keigo chuckled, turning to look at you with narrowed eyes. “Of course, we’ll go out with you; nothing would make us happier to call you our girl.”

Taking your hand, he helped you up off the bench and swiped the tears from your eyes. Humiliation flushed your face as you struggled to look anywhere but his hawk-like eyes.

“C’mon, doll. Let’s go clean out your dorm and head back to our place.”

»»————-　　————-««

Back in your apartment, the boys made quick of boxing up your things and loading them into Keigo’s pick-up. The poor distraught thing you were, the bathroom is where you holed yourself up and cried your heart out. The fact that you had to stoop as low as to live with your bullies to survive? And you thought you couldn't be more humiliated than the last time they offered helo. It’ll be temporary; you tried to convince yourself. You'll stay with them a few weeks and be on your merry way, finding someone else to stay with. Hell, you’ll couch surf if you have to. Anything was better than staying with those demons.

“Hey, doll!” Touya rapped his fingers on the door thrice before opening up to your crying form. “Hey, hey, hey. No need for tears. Your boyfriends are here to help.” His wolfish grin said otherwise.

“Bird brain and I finished packing your shit. Let's hit the road.”

A rough hand yanked you up from the floor, tugging you along. A yelp flew from your mouth before you could stop it as you pushed up against the sink, pinned in by Touya’s hips on yours.

“On second thought, I can't let my pretty girl feel so down, now can I? Let me give you something that’ll cheer ya up.”

A hard tent nestled its way up your skirt as he ground his hips against you.

“Let your man take care of you, huh? I’ll give you something good to cry about.”

Keigo was content to watch from the doorway as his partner continued to make you squirm under him.

“Besides, we haven't discussed payment. Rent ain’t free, princess.”

God, were these men cruel to you. You can't really expect any less from the men who were content to bully you in the first place.

“All my money was from the scholarship; I don’t-”

A hearty laugh came from the blonde, eyes narrowing in on your pinned form.

“Who said anything about money?” He quipped, sauntering over to you and took your chin in his hand. “You can pay us back with your obedience. We want a well-behaved slut that we can come home to, not some brat we have to take kicking and screaming.”

What choice did you have? They had you pinned in a corner, like a mouse caught by two feral cats who were just a bit too hungry to have any kind of patience to play games.

“I-I understand.” You swallowed, nodding in Keigo’s palm.

“Really now.” Touya drawled out, taking Keigo’s spot in the doorway. It was apparent they didn't want you to bolt on them. “I’m not convinced. You gotta prove yourself to us first, little girl.”

The bare mattress creaked under his weight as he took a seat in your room, legs spread as he motioned you towards him with his finger. Keigo, although reluctantly, let go of your face and locked both doors as he took a seat in the corner, seemingly content to watch the display.

A throaty chuckle left the man as you stood in front of him.

“Strip.”

The command left you shivering under his predatory gaze, a low whistle coming from his mouth as he fucked you with his eyes.

“Kei, put on some music.”

“Yes, sir.” He purred, using his phone for tunes and snatching yours from your purse before pocketing it in his jacket. Girls, Girls, Girls by Mötley Crüe filled the walls of your dorm, both men gratified by watching your little dance for them.

First went your shirt, tossed off onto the floor as your face flushed with shame. Tears welled in your eyes before you screwed them shut while swaying to the music.

“Hey! Eyes open and on me, little girl.” Touya snapped, spanking the side of your ass as punishment. You hiccuped, sucking in a breath to hold back the tears. The stress of the situation weighed you down, bursting you at the seams as you openly sobbed while removing your bra. Music blaring and laughs all around from Touya; you looked to Keigo for help; he always seemed to be on your side. Head thrown back against the wall, he jerked himself to the sound of your cries, winking and whistling as you looked back at him.

“Hurry it up; you're not very good at dancing, doll. You're stiff as a board.”

“She’s not the only one who's stiff.”

Cackles and guffaws filled the room, piercing your ears to the point where you thought you would go deaf at the next sound of their voices. Mindlessly, your clothes were haphazardly thrown off before you crumpled into a ball on the floor, shaking and sobbing.

“Aww, is baby having a bad day? Come to daddy.”

Touya helped you up off the floor before placing your bare cunt atop his left boot. “Why don't you relieve some stress, huh?”

The boot jerked under you, pressing up against your clit as you yelped. Getting the memo, you started to grind your hips down against his boot. Your cries quelled as you rocked your hips into a steady rhythm, biting your lip when you felt pleasure began to pool in your gut. How depraved were you? Getting off on your bully's boot while the other one got off to watching you. It was enough to make you sick, forcing you to cling to Touya’s thigh and rest your forehead there. A collection of moans and classic rock music blared in your room, bouncing off the walls so loudly that it made you even hazier.

As much as you wanted to deny it, the man had a point. You might as well submit and let yourself feel good; there's no getting out of it. Gasps and moans left your drooling mouth as you ground your hips on the tip of his boot with enthusiasm, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure slowly crescendoing in your core.

“Atta, girl.” Touya growled, gripping your hair from the scalp as he made eye contact with you. “Look at when you cum.”

Incoherent responses left your lips as you began to cry again, only that it was from pleasure this time. He continued to sustain eye contact as he fisted his cock, letting go of your hair in lieu of sticking his fingers in your mouth and choking you with them. Warbled cries fell onto his fingers as your hips increased in speed, thighs sputtering and shaking as you came close to creaming yourself on his boot.

“Cum on my boot, slut.”

His cock was aimed at your open mouth as you grunted and moaned, eyes cloudy as they rolled back into your bed. You came with a cry, squirting all over his patent-leather boot as your body shook with the sheer force of your orgasm.

Touya was not too far behind you, moaning your name as he shot his seed into your waiting mouth, covering your nose after finishing.

Like the obedient whore they needed you to be, you swallowed. His foot kicked up into you, knocking you off his leg.

“Disgusting. Clean up your mess, bitch.”

Nodding, a small whimper left your mouth as you began to lick your juices off his boot. Kitten licks and long strokes alike made their way around the leather, whining when he would shove his foot roughly in your face at times.

“Y’know, I’m still not convinced, sweetheart,” Keigo called out from behind you, taking a fist full of hair in his clutch as he pulled you up from the floor. “Beg for my forgiveness, and I’ll know you’re not trying to run a game on us.”

With a still tight reign on your hair, he threw you to the bed face down, ass up while discarding his own clothes. A harsh spank thwacked on your ass as he gripped the reddening flesh right after.

“Damn this ass is gonna be the death of me. Ain't that right, Touya?”

“Sure is; it's all she's good for.”

Neither of them really meant those nasty things they spewed at you, but it just felt too good at the moment to pass up seeing you cry. The sooner you learn that submission is the way to their hearts, the easier you'll have it. Sure, you were a whore, but you were their whore.

“Hope this pussy’s ready for a pounding cause Daddy is coming in.” He chuckled, groaning as he sank his length into your tight, unprepared vice. Whimpering and squirming beneath him, you attempted to grip the bare mattress for purchase as you felt the sting and stretch of his cock thrusting inside you. The pain wasn't terrible, but it was still there. You wiggled your hips, hoping to get some friction before another spank was administered.

“I haven't heard any begging yet.”

“P-Please fuck me, Keigo.”

“That’s not what I’m looking for, sweetheart.”

Oh? Oh.

“Please let me be your girlfriend! Please, I need to be yours; I need you!”

A slew of curses flew out of him as he pinned your hips down, thrusting deep and slow inside you. The pace was agonizingly slow as you tried to move your hips.

“Please, please, please!” you babbled. “Keigo, Touya. Let me be your girlfriend; let me be your obedient whore. I need to be yours!”

Humiliation hardly fazed you anymore as you let yourself, babbling and crying out begs and pleas for your two bullies.

Keigo happily increased his thrusts, pounding into you as a man possessed. Growls and snarls spat from his mouth as he savored the way your tight pussy fluttered around his painfully hard cock.

“Such a good girl for us, good girl.” The blonde moaned, pressing a sloppy kiss to the back of your neck. He lapped at the sweat there, leaving bite marks and blood for you to find later.

Your moans and cries were music to their ears, the most hypnotic melody they had ever heard. Touya stroked himself off in the corner, pleased with your earlier performance and giving his partner space to hit the nail into the coffin.

You, on the other hand, were being fucked out of your mind as Keigo dicked you down good. Good enough to make you forget your worries, your troubles, your life ripping apart at the seams for even just a moment. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled your senses as you felt the pleasure come at you full speed.

“T-Tell me you love me, that you love us.”

“Oh, someone’s feeling bold, birdie.”

Strings of “I love you”s flowed freely from your mouth as you chased your high, wanting to feel pure and utter relief, albeit it is just for a moment.

You came with a cry, spasming on his cock as he came deep inside you. A bright, white sensation filled your senses as you grasped onto your clarity for as long as you, not wanting to come down from your high.

Toned arms rested on either side of you before enveloping you in a warm hug.

“Good job, princess.”

A sweet whisper filled your ears before a kiss was placed on your cheek. Silence fell over the room, save for all of your panting and breathing. In your post-orgasm clarity, you couldn't help but realize something.

Wasn't Touya’s father dean of the school?

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authorkun · 3 years

Text

[𝙎𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙘] (005)

"𝙉𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚."

Fushiguro stated. While still cool on the outside, internally Megumi was pleading with himself that it wasn't true. Gojo sighed. "It's starting to look like a possibility." "Why are the Elders here though?" The raven head questioned. "The council are making preparations." Masamichi stepped in. "They're already assuming the worst?!" Megumi snapped. "He's still alive! He's still-!" A hand made a stop motion.

"I think you should leave the matter with us. You and Kugisaki need rest. We'll have Shoko look at your wounds later, for now rest." Masamichi held a commanding tone, although gently said. Fushiguro hesitantly nodded before picking up his peer, and started his way towards the dorms. 'M/n is not dead right? He'll make it-.'

Once more his train of thought was interrupted by the faint yell from the infirmary. "He's crashing! The internal hemorrhaging won't..." The rest became muffled, when the sound of a door slamming shut echoed the empty hallways. 'Please stay alive, I can't lose you too.'

Timeskip

Report:

900 hours. Due to prior events from the day passed; both first year student: Itadori Yuuji, and second year student: L/n M/n (also special grade Jujutsu sorcerer) of Jujutsu tech university have been pronounced dead. "I can't help to think that it was my fault." The snowy haired sorcerer chuckled bitterly. A hand was curled into his hair, as his fingers tugged at the strands. "It couldn't have been. Those incompetent fools are." Nanami reassured from across the male.

The two were seated across from each other in an empty room. Only two couches sat idly in the center. "The fact that the council is filled to the brim of cowardly heathens, has already been established. But hey, what can we expect." Gojo sarcastically answered. "Shouldn't both of us be experts in this?" Nanami held a stoic stature.

"We all knew what we were getting into. Death was just another thing apart of the list of risks." Kento spoke. It wasn't a lie, the two had suffered such losses and learned what the consequences truly were.

"It was inevitable." The word itself, pissed off Gojo to no end. Inevitable. Such a pathetic word, made by mortal chains who were paranoid of life. It always made him feel small; the word reminded him of how helpless he truly was during situations like this.

It angered him, heck, he was livid in fury. But the more he tried to refuse reality, the more times he ran into the same wall. Helplessness.

Timeskip

"Sukuna's host?" Shoko pointed towards the table, Itadori laid. "And...L/n." She lead the sentence on. Caressing the second-year's face, she clicked her tongue. "Anyways, I can dissect him however I want, right?" She asked referring to Itadori.

"Just make use of him." Gojo asked. "Of course I will. Who do you think you're talking too?"

"..."

"And we have direct instructions from the council for L/n. Those old farts aren't any fun. I was kind of curious of what was inside of that pretty little head of his."

With Fushiguro and Nobara

"He told us to "live long", but all your problems vanish when you you die. Was he your first comrade you've lost?" Nobara asked. Currently the two were sat on the steps of the entrance. "He was the first classmate."

"Hmmph you seem oddly fine. After all that second-year died too." "I could say the same for you." Megumi shot back. "Well I only knew them for about two weeks. I'm not such a soft woman...that would cry over the death of people like them." The female's voice cracked, as her lip quivered.

"It's so hot though." Kugisaki complained, changing from the depressing topic. "Yeah, I wonder when we'll get our summer clothes."

"What the hell? You're more depressing then ever.." Nobara sneered. "Megumi!" A voice interrupted. "Is this a wake?"

"Zenin-senpai."

"Don't call me by my family name. Maki. Maki!" Maki sounded out her name. Suddenly murmuring from behind a tree caught the three's attention. "He really did die too. Yesterday too! Another boy in first-year."

A tick mark formed, as Maki started to sweat. "Say it earlier! I'll seem like a cold-heartless devil!"

Panda and Inumaki stepped out from their 'hiding' spot. "Actually that's exactly what you are, you know?!" Panda yelled back.

"Tuna-Mayo."

"Who are they?" Nobara pointed towards the three strangers. "They're out second-year senpais. Zenin-senpai, she's the best at handling charms out of us students. Inumaki-senpai is a specialist in spells. His only vocabulary is onigiri ingredients. And panda.

There's another, Okkotsu-senpai. Along L/n-senpai, they were the only ones I could openly respect. He's overseas right now." Megumi explained. 'I wonder how Okkotsu's taking it. If he even knows yet. He and L/n-senpai were close.' "Are you just going to leave the panda's introduction at "Panda?" Kugisaki cut off Fushiguro's thoughts. "Oh sorry guys you're also still in mourning too." Panda bowed.

"We know how you must be feeling right now. We both lost L/n and Itadori. L/n was like family." Maki reassured. A small frown though lingering. "Mustard leaves-bonito flakes."

"Through the grief though, we want you guys to attend the Kyoto sister exchange." Panda finished.

"What's that?"

With Gojo

"You know, I have a pretty shitty personality, Don't I?" Gojo asked from his slumped position. "I know." Ijichi sighed.

"I'll seriously slap you later, Ijichi." The threat caused a shiver to go down the male's spine.

"Why would someone like me, someone who doesn't have characteristics of a teacher, take a teaching job at a technical college? Ask me." "Why is that." Ijichi shookenly asked. "Because I have a dream."

"A dream you say?" Gojo leaned back in his seat.

"Yeah, as you know from what happened to M/n and Yuuji, the establishment is the den of evilness in the world of sorcery. It doesn't take much brain power to know that the council of elders are a council of fools, and idiots.

It's a bargain sale for rotten oranges. I'll hit reset on the shithole that the world of sorcery is. I could easily kill those at the top, but they would simply be replaced, and no one would follow someone who'd kill the higher-ups. That's why I chose education. To raise strong and clever comrades. That's why sometimes I dump my missions on my students."

Ijichi gave an unimpressed look. "Not because you wanted to skip out of them?" "They're all extraordinary. Especially that third-year, Hakari and second-year, Okkotsu. They'll become shamen who could even rival me." Gojo's fist clenched as he glared at the table in front of him.

"Yuuji was one of them." Through gritted teeth, his glare downcasted. "M/n...was the only one who could surpass me."

"I'm going to start now." Shoko pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Ijichi started shaking in fear as he pointed behind the female. "Huh, what's wrong." "G-G-Gojo." An amused smirk formed as he saw behind her. Itadori was sitting up with a mildly confused expression.

"Woah, where's my clothes?!" Itadori exclaimed glancing downwards. "H-H-He H-H-He's a-a-alive!"

"Don't be so noisy Ijichi."

Shoko pulled her mask down a disappointing look sent to Itadori. "That's a shame."

An awkward silence befell. "Ummm this is embarrassing." The pink head nervously scratched his neck.

"Welcome back." Gojo placed his hand out. "Yo! I'm back!" Itadori slapped the outstretched hand. "Good to see you're alive." "It's good to be back. Can I get some clothes though?" Gojo and Shoko nodded at each other before heading out of the room. "We'll be back."

When the two left, Itadori started grabbing the garments from a bag. While changing, his eyes caught an oddly familiar tuft of (h/c) colored hair from next to him. 'That's impossible.' Tugging his shirt on, he inspected further. Pushing back the cloth covering the body, Yuuji's eyes widened in realization. 'No!' "I-Ijichi w-who's this?" He asked pointing towards the male. "That's L/n. He was a second-year here."

From the confirmation of his identity, a feeling of grief and sadness started to form at the pit of his stomach. Tracing along the scars that littered his neck. A worried frown formed. 'What happened to you?'

Although, inside him, where Sukuna sat, the king of curse's 'throne' stood empty. Sukuna watched in horror as Itadori had pulled the sheet back. Something continued to eat away at him. He couldn't die again right? He just saw him again. He never told him of the past.

The same sick feeling filled Sukuna as felt as though he was going to puke. "Not again!" His anguish screams filled the domain, as he threw, and broke numerous skulls that had made up the pile.

"Not again please." Sukuna faintly pleaded, as his kimono and hair dripped with water. Back on the outside Itadori had clenched his nails into his fist. Small droplets of blood seeped from his grasp.

"Why'd you have to go and die already?"

M/n POV

The coldness was the first thing I felt when I woke up. While the breeze was soft, the coldness of it all was unforgiving. It was all to familiar though. That day...

"RUN M/N! DONT LOOK BACK!"

It hurts. Stop.

"Your whole clan is pathetic~"

Stop please. It hurts.

"What are you going to do? You're too weak."

A pain filled scream echoed throughout the darkness, one I could only assume as my own. "What do you want? Please stop!"

"You killed us! It's your fault!"

The voices bounced off the walls from every angle. "What do you want from me?" I cried out.

The echoing voices seem to pause. Silence. A singular figure started to emerge from the snowy ground.

"You're not real. You died 10 years ago." My feet moved, as I started backpedaling. The figure, a woman. A yellow kimono dressed her body. Long (h/c) hair framing her chest, and face. (E/c) orbs which seemed so foreign. "I'm here my love. You're here with me." She reached out a palm towards my face, the only reaction was a flinch which was returned.

"It's me n/n. I'm back." Her soft tone felt deceiving as she stuck out her arms towards me. "It's been so long." Shaking my head, I refused to accept. "You're dead, stop this. Please." Fingers started to tug and pull the messy strands of hair.

"M/n, please." Warmth filled my core, as I was pulled into an embrace. My legs wobbled as we both fell to the floor. Sobs started racking my form as the woman, I've only known as my mother held me in her arms. "M-Mom? Why'd you leave me? I-I'm s-sorry, I was t-too weak-!"

"Hey, shhhh...It's okay. You did everything you could. It's not your fault at all sweety." Coming face to face with her, her thumbs wiped my eyes. "You're the strongest person I know M/n."

"Y-You left though! Y-You l-left and I d-d.." Words started getting choked up as a lump formed in my throat. "And that's one of the biggest burdens and regrets I have to carry." She spoke calmly pushing back a strand of hair.

"You've done so many good things and helped people in need. I've been with you ever since I passed. To think, my own son was such charmer though." She quirked a brow teasingly in hopes of lifting the mood. A small chuckle escaped. "I missed you." A bittersweet sigh left her parted lips before a smile graced her features.

"As have I." A comforting silence filled the void as we sat in each other's embrace. "M/n, although I despise it with all of my heart, you can't stay." Eyes widened, I pushed her body back.

"What do you mean? I just got here?" A frantic expression slowly forming.

"M/n..."

"I just got you back! You can't leave!" She once more stuck out her hand stroking my cheek. "M/n, you are the strongest person I've known my entire life. You've saved hundreds if not thousands. And you have people who love you back there! If you stay, you'll break their hearts." A shaky breath left, as tears started to fall again.

"I know. I'm so selfish! But I can't find the heart to see you leave again." Pushing my head into the crook of her neck. "You have too. You still have so many first's you have to fill though. Get married, live your life. It's not your time yet. I'll be with you every step of the way." She smiled, kissing my forehead.

"I love you M/n."

"I love you too." Her figure started to fade into small cherry blossoms. "It's time to wake up M/n~" With that, she disappeared entirely. A bittersweet smile managed to appear. Collapsing into the snow, I let the coldness finally envelope me as my eyes shut closed.

'It's time to wake up.'

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