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beanibon · 11 months

Note

Big fan of the eriks/bakery reader and wondered if you could write like a part 2 of it where eriks and reader actually have sex it was so good ty!! absolutely great work

Absolutely! Again, I love eriks x reader short fics and will 100% indulge in them

TW: softdom!eriks, creampie, alien genitalia, sex with food, cockwarming, a sprinkle of angst, probably my most vanilla smutfic

~ Prequel ~ Part 1 ~

Eriks x Baker!Reader Part 2

Eriks watched you from his seat, finding it hard to divide his attention between Lina and eye fucking you. After he had you quivering around his face, struggling to talk calmly to your remaining customers, he couldn't stop craving more.

You plagued his thoughts, every night he'd dream of you wrapped around his cock, screaming his name. It drove him wild, like an animal in heat.

"Mr Eriks, you haven't ordered your usual." Eriks blinked, realisation that he was face to face with your breasts. He jumped back, sitting upright as he hid his blushing face.

"I'm sorry, just thought you had it downpacted by now." He covered up the throb in his pants by laughing obnoxiously, only to quieten at your stern look.

"Mr Eriks, you have ten different usuals at best, I can't guess which one you crave by the way you stare at me." Lina snorted, concealing her laughter as Eriks's face turned bright red.

Lowering his head in embarrassment, he mumbled out his order. You nodded, mockingly patting his head as you walked away. Just that small action had him wanting to throw your body over the counter, fucking you covered in sweets and whipped cream. Instead his head hit the small bakery table, inwardly groaning at his inner turmoil. He couldn't stand another second without you, he wanted to rub himself against you, tickling your beautifully soft, plush skin with his peach fuzz, the smell of your arousal like an intoxicating drug as he ploughed into your sex.

Eriks wasn't listening to Lina anymore, distracted by the way you laughed along with a familiar older couple, he remembered you mentioning they were your favourite regulars. Though try as he might, Eriks couldn't stop staring at your ass, more filth filled thoughts swarming his mind.

Eventually it became unbearable, he couldn't take how you actively ignored him yet swayed your hips just that tiny bit more, or bent down to pick up some 'clumsily' knocked over paper cups. Every action was filled with purpose, knowing that Eriks gaze burned into you, knowing that he was struggling to stay composed. So when he abruptly rose from his seat, a blushing, flustered mess, you smiled. . . Innocently.

And that's what made him snap.

Apologising profusely to the couple you were talking to, that he so rudely interrupted, Eriks rested his prickly chin on your shoulder. That pleading, longing sideways glance he gave you had you giggling, patting his hair.

"I'll close up early, wanna wait upstairs for me?" He nodded, pretending not to notice the way Lina's glare drilled holes along his spine.

You gave Eriks a quick kiss to cheek, returning to your conversation, now bubbling with praised coos at your display of affection. While slinking off behind the counter, Lina stormed towards him, if looks could kill he'd be burning in hell.

"When were you gonna tell me you and Y/N were a thing?" She demanded, hands slamming down on the counter.

"We're not really a thing Lina, I just help them on some occasions ya know." If only Eriks was a better liar, maybe he could've spared himself from his friend's fury.

"You're so full of shit, Eriks! Not a thing? Then why did they kiss you? Don't lie to me, or I'm taking away donut day!" Eriks couldn't help the whine, pouting as faux tears streamed down his face.

"Perhaps, just maaaaybe we are a thing." His voice was so quiet that Lina had to force him to repeat himself a few more times before she could understand.

"Was it really that hard to tell me? Just be back by morning, now shoo." Eriks couldn't contain his excitement, nodding so rapidly that his head looked as if it would fly off.

Lina just shook her head, yet she couldn't help the smile on her face. It had taken the dork weeks, hell months even, for him to gain enough courage to speak to you. Now he was able to openly display affection towards you, eagerly waving a hello the moment you're in sight.

He was like some lost puppy, sulking until he's presented with a treat. Now he's run off again, chasing that very person who'd treat him like he was their own personal ray of sunshine.

Your moans were as addictive as a sirens song, spilling from your bruised, drool coated lips. How his name rolled off your tongue, eliciting tingling sensations down to the pit of his gut.

Eriks released your swollen tit with a lewd, loud 'pop' of his lips, face messy with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Those beautiful eyes sparkled with clouded lust, staring at you with an adoring gaze.

"Taste...so good," he mumbled, a dopey smile on his face.

"That's because you insisted on covering me in whipped cream, chocolate and cherries." You chuckled, fingers tangled in those luscious blonde locks.

"Taste good without all that." His tongue lazily circled your perked nipple, the taste of chocolate seemed to infuse into your breasts.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp echoed through the quiet room. Finger nails dug into the scarred flesh of Eriks shoulders, back arched against him as he slowly rolled his hips, finally moving the cock buried deep within your warm folds.

Lapping up the last of the dessert that turned your body sticky with sugar, Eriks used his arm to hoist his body up. Starting of gentle and slow, his hips begun to thrust into you, stretching you around his cock. As if on cue your walls convulsed, clenching Eriks as he grunted.

"Mayfly, you gotten loosen up, you got me in a choke hold here." He whined, lips pressing themselves between your slightly bouncing tits.

You whined, the two of you weren't foreign to penetrative sex with each other, but everytime was still a struggle to adjust. Eriks genitals weren't normal and you were quick to discover that Eriks himself wasn't normal either, in more ways than one. So when it came to sex he was patient, allowing you all the time you need to relax against his foreign cock.

Finally releasing your death grip, Eriks sighed in relief, placing a ticklish kiss against your lips. Whispers of praise filled your ears, all of them melting that hard, mean exterior that you'd always put on around the blonde when on the clock. But in private? You'd turn into an absolute angel, one that captivated the heart of certain disguised gunman.

"Eriks," Those soft, bandaged hands brought him back from his trance, thumbs caressing his rough face. "I can't cock warm you all night."

Humming against those beautiful hands, the same hands he'd watch knead dough, or throw handfuls of flour at him. A few kisses placed against their palms, Eriks smiled down at you, eyes shining with something he could only describe as love.

With his arm now wrapped tightly around your hardy yet small frame, Eriks began thrusting once again, only this time more harder. He watched as you tilted your head back, mouth wide as sweet, sugery moans poured out. Those sounds were pure ecstasy, encouraging him to move at a faster pace.

Soft praises were murmured into your ear, with kisses pressed against your neck, teeth nibbling at your throat. Your clit throbbed as Eriks pelvis rubbed against it, feathers tickling against the nerve bud and your spread thighs.

That ball formed in the pit of your stomach began to ache, on the edge of bursting until movement pulled you from your sweet release. Eriks repositioned himself, turning you onto your side with a leg dangled over his shoulder. The new position allowed him to fuck you deeper, hitting that spot that had you arched until your joints ached.

Eriks chuckled, revelling in the sight of you quivering beneath him. You always looked so ethereal whatever the position be, voice singing his name like honey.

Only it wasn't his actual name.

"Vash."

Clouded eyes looked to him, confusion etching its way onto your blissed out features. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"Please, call me Vash."

It felt so taboo, saying his actual name, but he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear you say it.

Your calls of the name Eriks soon faded, willingly moaning his true name. You didn't question him, demand to know why the most wanted man had openly lied to you about his identity for one and half years. You simple complied.

That itself brought tears to Vash's eyes, hiding his face against the leg bent into the shoulder missing its arm. Tears began to soak your flesh, sniffles filling you with alarm as you hoisted your body up, leg dropping to wrap around his waist.

"Vash? What's wrong, why are you crying?" For the second time that night your hands held his face, forcing him with gentle yet firm force to look you in the eye. Those soft blue eyes were filled with tears, and for the first time since meeting the mysterious man that showed up out of nowhere, you saw just how tired Vash truly was.

Offering a smile, you placed several kisses upon his face, leaning against his forehead as he wept. The pace of his hips colliding with yours never stopped, slowing down slightly as you caressed his features with love and care. Each touch graced his scars, lips kissing every one that you could reach. Perhaps you were a little harsh to Vash every other day, but here and now you treated him as if he were a cracked, fragile vase.

"You're perfect Vash, I love you so much." You whispered, looking into those tired eyes once again.

Vash shook his head, sobbing. "You shouldn't, if I stick around too long you'll get hurt. People I care for, they'll always get hurt."

"It's a good thing you're stuck with me then, no matter what I'll always be here, to love you, to kiss your scars and to bake you the best donuts in town." A quiet laughter filled the room, Vash's pace faltering. "I'm yours as you are mine, Vash the Stampede."

Vash bit his lip, holding back a fresh wave of tears. With one final buck into your hips, both of you came, lips pressed together in a passionate kiss.

As new tears filled his eyes, Vash nuzzled into your neck, soft cries echoing off your thin walls. You allowed him to cry, leaning back so he was laying on top of you. You both stayed like that for about an hour, listening the Vash's cries as you quietly soothed his shuddering shoulders by whispering lovefilled words in his ear. He appreciated every word spoken, every comforting circle rubbed between his shoulder blades, you were too perfect for sinner like him and yet you chose to stay, even after finding out who he actually was.

"I mean it Vash, I'll always be here to love you and make sure you know that you are loved." His grip tightened around your waist, as if scared you'd vanish after saying those words.

Vash didn't speak much, mumbling out shaky 'thank yous' or 'I'm sorry'. Yet you didn't mind, laying there with the man you loved tangled in your arms, it was all so perfect. And as Vash's tears stopped, sobs turned into sleepy whimpers, you knew he'd cried himself to sleep.

You cradled him in your arms, tugging a blanket over your naked bodies as you gave him a final kiss on the crown of his head. Mumbling a final "I love you" you soon followed as you drifted into sweet embrace of your lover and sleep.

AAAAAH I finally completed it! This was so fun to write and of cause had to sprinkle a small pinch of angst, hope you all enjoyed!

#trigun stampede #trigun #trigun smut #vash #vash the stampede #vash x reader #vash x you #vash the stampede x reader #eriks x reader #eriks vash x reader #trigun x reader #trigun 98 #trigun 1998 #vash smut #98 vash #98 vash x reader

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thysanniia · 2 months

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Tell me about your godzilla stories I want information dumped in my brain like a horrifying Medieval medicine

Ok so this has sat in my inbox for a couple days now and I've just been mentally preparing myself for writing this obscenely long post, but I think I'm ready.

You wanna know about all of my Godzilla stories? You're sure? In way too much detail for anyone to sit through?? Ok, if you insist. Strap in, it's gonna be a long one.

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Ok so all but one of these are my major overhaul of the MonsterVerse, and seeing as the standalone one is my most recent creation, I'll save that for last. So we start with Godzilla (2014). This was always my favourite MV film, so it was always going to stay relatively similar in my version, but more recently I've been developing thoughts about restructuring the narrative to be more framed around keeping Joe Brody alive and having the film focus on his relationship with Ford as the events unfold. Ford feels guilty for dismissing his father all these years, and Joe becomes painfully aware of just how badly he's neglected their relationship too - especially now that Ford is tied up in this whole mess, and his job as a soldier puts him in serious danger when shit goes down. I haven't quite figured out the details of how this all unfolds and develops (I struggle a lot with character writing and figuring out relationship arcs, my brain isn't exactly wired that way even though my neurodivergent brain loves compelling characters). But I have a feeling it will still end in Joe sacrificing himself - or perhaps at least attempting to? Yeah, this is still fairly new and also not my primary focus at the moment so it'll be brewing for a little while longer. Obviously all the stuff with Godzilla and the MUTOs stays more or less the same, save for perhaps a little more fun lore courtesy of Monarch as they interact with Joe more.

I am going to bring up Kong: Skull Island, even though it's not Godzilla, because it's still a part of the MV. Jokes on you though - I'm only bringing it up to tell you I'm not changing it! I think it's fine how it is, it's kinda stand-alone anyway so I feel no need to tweak anything. Maybe I'd make Kong a little bigger, idk.

So then there's Godzilla Vs Kong. Yeah, plot twist, that one's next, and it's pretty substantially overhauled. The general idea is to have it mostly focus on Kong and Jia's relationship, in a doomed-by-the-narrative sort of way, because this is Kong after all. It starts off on Skull Island, which thanks to climate change affecting the storm conditions is slowly dying. It also doesn't help that westerners have introduced diseases that are harming the Iwi. But anyway, out from beneath the island emerges Camazotz, digging up through the passageways from the Hollow Earth. Naturally, it fights Kong, and some human intervention accidentally causes it to fly away and off the island. Having a loose flying kaiju is obviously not great, but it gets even worse when its return brings Godzilla in tow. Alarmed by suddenly discovering there's been a giant ape here this whole time, Godzilla gets aggressive and Kong gets defensive, resulting in a full on fight that ultimately ends in tragedy when Godzilla inadvetently decimates the last remaining Iwi. Kong is understandably not ok and retreats into the Hollow Earth down Camazotz' tunnel. Ilene and Jia go in after him, accompanied by others from Monarch, and while they are eventually reunited with Kong, things aren't really smooth from there. I haven't developed this part fully yet, but essentially through various Hollow Earth experiences it becomes clear that this is a place where he is safer and more at home, but his guilt, refusal to leave Jia, and fear of this new place leads him to flee up a new Camazotz tunnel that leads to Hong Kong. Predictably, now back on the map he is immediately greeted by Godzilla and shit goes down. They have their fight, and Kong actually does well, motivated by his desire to protect Jia, but it becomes clear that Godzilla will just keep getting back up. He can't stay here. So, in the end, Kong lays down his axe and submits to Godzilla, and leaves for the Hollow Earth alone. It's kinda bittersweet - he and Jia both survive, and they get to say goodbye on their own terms. Plus there are hints that there might be more like him in the Hollow Earth. But, ultimately, they do still have to say goodbye and go their separate paths.

Ok so when I started writing this I didn't plan to write out a full synopsis or anything, but because that one is more of a step-by-step story I felt I couldn't properly explain it without just dumping everything. I'll not do that for the rest because their plots aren't quite as fully organised yet (and also that would make this post excessively long).

So, finally (kinda) there's Godzilla: King of the Monsters. Or, well, something vaguely based on it. I'm not even sure what I'm calling this one yet, but the main point is that it's the one with Mothra, Rodan and Ghidorah (plus Anguirus and Hedorah now too!). This one is much more preachy and focused on showing a clear message, although hopefully still with a compelling central character arc too. It's focused around how, in times like ours when the people in charge refuse to do the right things and our elders don't do enough to challenge them, it's up to us as the youth to take real, drastic action to fight for our futures. Each kaiju is related to something: Anguirus is ecocide, Rodan is war, Nozuki (lol yeah) is greed, Hedorah is pollution, and Ghidorah is climate change. Godzilla retains his general theme of being a force to restore balance - not necessarily on one side or another, but when governments fight back against him we lose our only chance of winning, and the only way we can get him back is through Mothra, who symbolises our hope and will to do right. So... yeah, it's pretty in-your-face and obviously a representation of my own feelings (did I mention that the main character is a trans girl?) but I don't think that's a bad thing. I am a little worried about whether it's possible to get everything I feel needs to be included into a respectable film runtime, I've considered cutting one or two kaiju but I feel they're important enough to keep? I don't wanna cut the kaiju that's the embodiment of capitalism's consequences (although perhaps I can just demonstrate the same thing through other kaiju?), nor do I wanna cut Hedorah because she kicks ass and I love her. But I might restructure it a little, again hence why I'm not going into the beat-by-beat plot quite yet. I'm still happy with the broad strokes of how it's shaping up though, and hopefully I'll have something more final to share soon. This idea is kinda what shaped everything else, I'm very attached to it.

Speaking of everything else, that's not all! Even though that's supposed to be the big film conclusion, at least for now, I was also inspired by Monarch: Legacy of Monsters to do a spin-off show that ties into the events, because I think it's a really interesting concept and I wanna show more perspectives than just those inside Monarch. Currently I'm titling it Monarch: Monster Hunters although that's subject to change. The idea is that it follows some people who come together to search for the truth about what's going on behind the scenes, propelled by creating the ORCA. Simultaneously, it follows someone inside Monarch trying to track down MUTOs such as Camazotz as it leaves Skull Island. Their paths converge, and the group are let into Monarch thanks to their invention, teaming up to search for MUTOs together. However, the more they learn the less they like the organisation, and in the end they rebel against it in order to protect the kaiju. You might have noticed a pattern of Monarch not really being the good guys in these lol. Very excited to include more original kaiju in this one too, which I won't spoil quite yet...

Oh, also it's gay. At least one of these was bound to have lesbians in it, come on.

I'm also toying with a second season taking place after (not)KotM. The first season would bridge the time gap between GvK and KotM, tying in quite closely to both. But the post-KotM world does leave lots of interesting opportunities, even if i initially wanted the world-ending threat of Ghidorah to be the big finale. Toying with ideas of parasites, Shimo, and even Battra... I might have to wait for Godzilla X Kong to see if any ideas for it spring from that.

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Ok, so that's everything for the MonsterVerse, but then there's also my original Godzilla story. This kinda sprung out of thinking about Mechagodzilla, and the best way I can describe it is "Cyberpunk Pacific Rim except we're the bad guys". It centres on a Mechagodzilla pilot slowly realising that their endless battle with Godzilla is little more than a war for war's sake, a corrupt government covering for their own mistakes by trying to win a battle of their own creation despite all of the lives it costs. It's their nukes that created Godzilla, their attacks that instigate the destruction he causes, and their own war that they try to win to retain the public's support, even though it becomes clear that no blood would have been spilled if not for their actions. The pilot themselves have to confront everything they believed, come to terms with the part they played in all this, and atone for the lives lost by instead fighting the people that did this. Oh, and Ghidorah is thrown in there as a third party just to complicate things. It's fun, and I'm looking forward to developing the plot more. Currently resisting the urge to include my beloved Mothra, she'd make absolutely no sense to include but also I love her so much...

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Anyway, if you somehow actually read all of that then you're absolutely gorgeous and I wanna kiss you on the lips (mwah!). If you have any questions or anything by all means go ahead and ask, I'm more than happy to talk more about anything you're interested in.

I might update this with future developments if they're significant enough, who knows, we'll see.

And, finally, thank you unfortunatefloweryfool for asking me to write all this out. It took, uh, way too fucking long and I should not be awake right now but it's fun to have an excuse to dump all of this. You're the best, thank you for enabling me.

And with that, thank you and goodnight :3

#i seriously can't believe someone actually asked this i hope she was prepared for the sheer amount of hyperfixation bullshit she unleashed #thysanniasks #godzilla #monsterverse #writing #my posts

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wyyvernn · 7 months

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Hello! How are you? I just want to say a couple of things. First things first; I love your AC content, I was just reading your Vampire Haytham Headcanons and I just wanna ask a question or two.

1. Would Connor aka be a dhampyr in the AU? Since he is Haytham's and Ziio's son or would he be human? An assassin/vampire hunter? 👀👀👀👀👀

2. Would he want to turn his S/O into a vampire or would he keep them as a human? If he does turn then how would it work? Would Haytham even want to have a coven of vampires?

3. Is Haytham the first of his kind? Was he born as a Vampire or was he perhaps turned? If he was turned; who made Haytham a vampire? Who would be the frist Vampire in this AU?

4. What would happen if he was attending a masquerade ball with S/O? What would he during such event as a Vampire?

I am so sorry if these are stupid questions but I'm wayy to invested into this AU! Here, take these

Have a good day/afternoon/evening/night!

A/n: Hiyaaa! I'm good! These aren't stupid questions! And I'm glad that there are a few interested in this AU! Also TY THOSE ARE SOME CUTE GIFS EEEEEE

1. Oohhh good question, I never really thought that far haha but now I'm thinking about it, I would think that Connor is most likely a dhampyr since when I was writing the headcanons, I imagined Haytham being a vampire for sometime, definitely before he came to America.

2. If his S/O wasn't a Templar and didn't have any intention of joining then I think probably not. I don't think he would want to involve them in a cause that is clearly dangerous and requires the upmost devotion. It's not exactly a decision to be taken lightly or without trust. Maybe if they joined the Order and asked him to turn them then I could see him doing it as part of the initiation process but also because he wants them by his side forever. In my headcanons, I sort of just thought of the entire Order as vampires. Those who are interested in becoming a Templar; however, have no idea about the Order having vampires within and either join once they can be trusted or are killed off when they realise the truth and try to back out - as a precaution, of course.

3. Since I imagined him as being a vampire for some time, I would think that Reginald Birch would be the one who turned him eventually once Haytham grew old enough, experienced enough. Maybe after he finished his training or after his first kill.

4. I think the only real reason Haytham would go to such an event is for some kind of Templar business. Maybe a traitor needs to be assassinated or the host is holding important information that is useful to him. But I can also see him blending in with his S/O, whisking them away in a dance, if only for a short while to cross the dance floor. A thousand pardons here, a thousand pardons there, sorry madam, excuse me gentlemen... he's more focused on the mission at the end of the day. These types of events don't interest him much. (But man, now you have me wanting to draw him in a mask hhhh.)

#haytham kenway x reader #haytham kenway #assassin's creed 3 #assassin's creed iii

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just-a-carrot · 3 months

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Helloooo!!! I was looking for inspo for my own visual novel a little while back, it's set in a ballroom so eventually the keywords lead me to discovering save the last dance (and itch.io in general im a total noob to this lmao) i dont know what it was but it just like took a vice grip around me INSTANTLYY.

So I downloaded the main game today and I am actually silently cursing you because I got nothing done all day I was just like transfixed. The artstyle grew on me alot, and oh godd the character designs... God I love the designs, espcially Genzhou's. There's just so much love (even in every gruesome death scene lol) put into this it's almost difficult not to get obssesed...

Also sidenote I found it kind of encouraging almost to see that you're (self-proclaimed) older, I found that really inspirational lol. There's something that just makes me want to create and actually sit down and learn when I play your games. I guess I've always had this feeling of having all the time in the world but recently I've been feeling almost like it's too late to learn new skills (which is kind if ridicolius since I'm like smack dab in the middle of gen z). Regardless I guess your work made me realize the artistry in visual novels, I could keep going but I tend to ramble lol

ahhhhhhhh this is so sweet!! i got very weepy reading this, especially as i'm already feeling quite soft today as it was a bit of an anxious one... 😭💕

that's fascinating that you found StLD first searching for ballroom stuff!! i am always curious how people first find out about any of my games. i'm happy you enjoyed it, especially enough to go play the main game sob. i'm incredibly touched

and i'm even more touched that you've been enjoying the main game so much 😭💕💕💕 especially all the kind words about the art!! i've grown more confident in my art more recently but especially in the beginning stages of the game i was incredibly self-conscious and worried about it because it was rather odd-looking and didn't match any other typical VN styles. so that's really sweet of you to say. this game certainly has had a lot of love put into it (and blood, sweat, tears, my entire life... etc.). it is very much a big passion project and my eyes were perhaps too big when i got started, but because it dug itself so deep into my psyche and i also made some good decisions like releasing in parts, etc., i've been able to keep working on it until the end despite it taking me like 2.5+ years so far. i'm not even sure i can put into words what this game and chars have done for me and my life and the many journeys and discoveries i've made along the way

dkjfalsdkf yes... i am a millenial, i will say that much. though i don't often feel like one. except for the fact that i often have no idea what people are talking about or referencing and tend to be awkward and confused most of the time LOL this is also why my characters are all older, as well. i sometimes feel a bit strange since i feel much older than many of the others in the VN dev sphere (well, perhaps in age only, not really in mental maturity maybe LKDJAFLKDS). if this can give inspiration to others that are also a bit older though, then i am glad 🤣 i have spent much of my life going from thing to thing and never really knowing exactly what i want to do. case in point my current job has nothing to do with my master's degree. though the one constant has always been creation of some kind, whether it's drawing or writing (and now with games, doing both of those on top of scripting and coding and a bajillion other things lol). i don't think you should ever feel "too old" to do something. or to get started doing something. or to feel like you "haven't done enough" etc. i say this so strongly because i also try to reassure myself sometimes perhaps LOL it's also ok if you don't know what you want to do so you're just trying out different ideas that you're passionate about. so many of us just wanna find something that makes us feel fulfilled and passionate, that makes our hearts ache, that fills us with joy and motivation. so if you can find something that does that for you, no matter how old you are, grab it and don't ever let go lkdajfalskd

at any rate, i'm glad i could also help you discover more about VNs in general. i hope it will be helpful as you work on your own games!!! 💕

#ask: ow #ask: vn dev

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terrence-silver · 1 year

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Could you write literally anything you want about John Kreese and his beloved, there just is not enough John writes in the world and I know you’re the best person to do it

---

John has had funerals before.

Few people could say they've died multiple times.

Yes, one could technically say he was declared KIA in 'Nam, or at least, that a part of him was --- maybe his boyish weakness, his hopes, dreams, even though he wasn't fan of sappy sentiments of the kind. Another occasion, when he and Terry pretended he died to trick the Larusso primaballerina into letting down his guard for shits-and-giggles while, in truth, John was on Tahiti time sunbathing his ass the whole time. Those were the good old days --- the recollection alone made him chuckle even decades down the line. He could even say he died in the thirty something years he was away after the tournament loss of '85, his second championship flop, season back to back, having him retreat and lay low, breaking contact with everyone and everything --- with society at large --- even Terry himself who he was certain kept an eye on him regardless, licking his wounds and recuperating because John simply didn't believe the world had much use for him if he wasn't winning something. Not now and not ever. He didn't wanna be in a world where he was losing everything, his life unraveling by the seams and him being forced to watch, unable to stop it, so he'd rather not participate at all.

And he didn't.

In the thirty years of his absence he still had enough leftover cash to buy himself a funeral plot and erect an actual grave once the years started creeping in on him. If third time wasn't the charm, the fourth one would be. Eventually, he would have no use to pretend anymore because everyone eventually dies if they wait that crap out long enough. Cpt. John Kreese, the simple concrete plaque said as per his request. No bullshit. No fancy epitaphs. None of that nonsense. He wasn't out here to convince anyone he was something he was not. Just his military rank, name, surname, date of birth to be joined by a date of death. Never wanted to rest beside Betsy down in Pasadena. Didn't figure he deserved to. Didn't figure it was right anymore. Not now that he had you. You had the mutually solemn tendency to come out here with him and visit the still empty grave site. Set down the occasional flower and just watch, like you were mourning an actual person buried down there with him and then, you'd leave, in tow. He wanted to bury the idea of second chances down there too eons ago, it seemed; cover it with a thick, coated layer of muddy soil and call it a day, but here you were, springing free from the casket he intended to put the thought of a second love into and you unexpectedly sprung free, strolling the pavements of the empty cemetery sidewalk with him. Ironic how it quelled John's desire to die at all.

Maybe he didn't have to. Maybe he already died all the sufficient times he needed to.

Maybe a man can fill a certain quota.

-"You alright, John?"- You ask, catching him deep in his thoughts, interlocking his arms with yours as you quietly waddled forward, under the sun. You knew his life story. You knew why he erected this grave for himself. You didn't bullshit him and he didn't bullshit you. He rather enjoyed that. But, no, he didn't think he'd let himself go to waste just yet. -"Yeah."- He trails off, nodding and smiling, sliding on his shades. Perhaps a part of him didn't want you read in his eyes just how content he was. -"Yeah, I am."- He raises his eyes to look up at you, eyes concealed with a veneer of black. -"I think we should go get some drinks, doll. Treats on me, of course."- What a line, Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca be damned, he concludes, self-congratulatory, imagining himself in black and white. From a graveyard to hitting the bar with a beaut. He feels twenty fuck five next to you again, and he figures, he's had his funerals before. Few people could say they've died multiple times, sure.

Just as well, few people could say they loved multiple times too.

John Kreese was certainly the exception to every rule ever made.

#didn't intend this #somehow it turned out legit fluffy #and genuinely disturbing at the same time #john kreese #old man john #kk3 #cobra kai #ck era john kreese #john kreese x reader #john kreese x beloved #tw; faking one's death #tw; death and mortality mentioned

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thedanoriddler · 2 years

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Hi omg I love ur work🥺🥺 I was wondering if u could do Edward nashton meeting his old crush from the orphanage while he is riddler accidentally? Like they both wanna kill this guy and he realises who she is 🥺🥺💕💕 thank u

Oh my god, I love this idea! I’m afraid I got a little carried away and it ended up becoming a full on fic at this point but… hopefully you’ll enjoy!

Warnings for fluff, the first parts are literally the cutest thing I’ve written 💚 also for talk of death and murder but this is Eddie/Riddler we’re talking about so 😂 I apologise in advance for any OOC nonsense, it’s been a long few weeks for me 😭

Also, there aren’t any gender terms so I suppose this is a gender neutral reader but I’ll admit that while writing it, I was imagining myself (a woman) 😅 I imagine the reader later on in the story is a little like Selina Kyle because… well, you’ll see. Hopefully it’ll make sense in the story! But the reader doesn’t have a particular gender in this story so… yep! All genders can enjoy! ❤️

********

After the death of your parents, you were of course sent to the Gotham Orphanage. It was difficult enough losing both of your parents, let alone being forced to now live in what was quite possibly the most underfunded, dirty, cold orphanage in the world. To add, the adults in charge were unsympathetic, not caring that you were grieving your lost family, and the other kids were largely no better from what you could tell. You immediately hated it there, and you wished more than ever that you could go back to how things were before - you and your parents, happy and together.

There was soon one bright spot though.

You had seen the shy boy with glasses a few times around the orphanage, usually reading or working on some kind of puzzle; he didn’t appear to have any friends, and you’d even overheard some of the other kids make fun of him, but because they were older and bigger, you hadn’t been able to step in. He seemed so unlike the other children at the orphanage, you thought, and you wondered if it might be worth speaking to him - even if you only had one friend, it was bound to be less lonely than having none. It took a few weeks before you had the right opportunity to talk to him away from anyone else and also after settling into your new “home”, but eventually the right moment came.

It had been a chilly autumn day, and you saw him sitting outside under a tree away from the other children playing - you didn’t really want to play with any of the other kids, so you decided you’d speak to the shy boy, maybe ask what he was doing. You noticed that he looked surprised when you sat down opposite him, glancing around as if expecting you to be sitting with someone else, as if you were only sitting near him as a coincidence.

“Hi,” you greeted, somewhat awkwardly. “I’m (Y/N).”

The boy blinked and didn’t speak for a long moment, and you briefly wondered if he even could speak - perhaps he was mute or something. Just as you were debating apologising for disturbing him and leaving, you heard a quiet voice.

“I’m… I’m Edward.”

“Edward.” You repeated it, determined to remember it. “Umm… What are you reading, Edward?”

He looked down at his book and back, still perplexed that you were talking to him - it was obvious he was mostly ignored. “Oh, I’m not reading… Well, I suppose I am, but… It’s a riddle book actually.”

“Riddles? Like… Like a problem you solve?”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling slightly to himself. “Sort of. They can be misleading or puzzling, and you have to be smart to solve them - that’s why I like them.”

“Huh. Can you try one on me?” You ask, your interest piqued.

“Oh.” He looked surprised by your question but still flipped open his book and searched for one hurriedly. “These are super easy ones, but… The less of me you have, the more one is worth; treat me with care as I will you, and both of us will share our time on earth. What am I?”

You wrinkled your nose up as your thought, which made him smile even more to himself; it took nearly a whole minute to consider what he’d said before you figured it out. “Is it… a friend?”

“Yes!” His eyes lit up behind his glasses, and you realised absentmindedly that he had green eyes. “Yes, it is a friend! You’re the only person who’s figured it out when I’ve asked them!”

For the first time since your parents had died, you felt yourself smile, almost wryly. “So… Are you asking me to be your friend?”

His mouth opened and closed very quickly. “I… umm… I…” It was clear that he was worried he’d offended you somehow. “I didn’t mean to… I mean, if- if you don’t want to be then… then that’s okay…”

You looked at this shy but intelligent boy in front of you, at his huge glasses and the way his cheeks had gone pink, and knew immediately what your answer would be. “Yes.”

“Y- Yes?” His eyes were even wider than ever, voice no louder than a disbelieving whisper.

You smiled and moved closer to him. “Yes, I want to be friends.”

****

Edward Nashton was not only your friend - he was your best friend, and you were his.

The two of you spent most of your time together, usually finding an empty room or quiet area of the orphanage to be alone in away from the other children, and you were practically inseparable. You did a lot of puzzles - not just riddles but also jigsaws, word problems, sudoku, even card games - together, and when you weren’t playing those, you’d sit and talk for hours. You’d never had a friend like Eddie, not even when your parents had been alive, and being around him made dealing with their loss so much easier.

It didn’t take long for you to trust Eddie or feel at ease with him, and you told him everything; you told him about your parents, about where you used to live, your old school, about how they died. He listened intently to everything, and you knew that he never forgot anything you told him - he was so smart, much smarter than a lot of the other kids in the city, and you knew he could memorise things easily, especially when it came to you.

You learnt that Eddie had lived at the orphanage ever since he could remember, that he could barely remember his own parents - and the small scraps that he did remember about his parents weren’t nearly as wonderful as what you knew about yours. You were understanding yet horrified when he recounted that he could remember his father hurting him and calling him “stupid”, and you told Edward that he was the smartest person you’d ever met - and it was the truth.

Neither of you were particularly liked by the other kids at the orphanage - mostly Edward was targeted by your peers, although you found that you also got teased and made fun of for standing up for him, for hanging around with him. You wouldn’t have had it any other way - Edward was your best friend, and that was that. You mostly ignored the others, knowing they weren’t worth your time.

But Edward got it much worse than you; he’d been there longer, and his intense love of puzzles and riddles singled him out. You saw the bruises on your friend from being pushed over, the way the frames of his glasses repeatedly got snapped, and even on one occasion you’d been the one who found him after the others had forced his head down a toilet. It made you so angry, so full of rage, that people could treat him like this - and that the orphanage staff did nothing to stop this. In fact, the staff didn’t even attempt to hide their dislike of Edward, ignoring the bullying even when it happened in front of them and even encouraging it at times.

You wanted nothing more than to hurt the people who hurt your best friend.

“They’re just jealous,” you told him firmly as you finished taping his glasses frame back together - thankfully, the lenses were intact still. “They’re all jealous because they know you’re ten times smarter than they ever will be, Eddie. You’re going to go on to do great things, you’re going to change this city, and they’re afraid of that - afraid of how powerful you’ll be.”

He sniffed, putting his glasses back on his face before looking at you with a hopeful stare. “You think so?”

You nodded emphatically. “I know so.”

He smiled weakly, allowing you to smooth down the collar of his shirt and help fix his hair; after a moment, he looked at you in an almost bashful way. “You… You called me Eddie.”

“Huh. I guess I did.” You met his eyes. “Is that okay? Can I call you that?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie breathed, and the way he looked at you made you feel somewhat funny inside. “I… I like you calling me that.”

“Good.” You beamed at him happily before taking his arm. “Come on, we’ve got time until the dinner bell - enough time for you to help me finish that crossword.”

****

It was official: Eddie had a crush on you, his best friend.

As you both hit adolescence, he started to realise it more and more; he had always liked you, obviously, as you were his best friend - but this was different. For a while, he’d passed off the intensity of it as just really caring about you because of your friendship, because neither of you had anyone else - you were the only good thing in his life. But as you both started to grow out of childhood, it became more and more obvious that what he was feeling wasn’t platonic at all.

It wasn’t platonic to feel a warm tingle whenever you touched his arm, he realized, nor that he had thoughts of wanting to embrace you, of holding your hand as you walked everywhere together. He noticed more and more that he was staring at your mouth and wondering what it would be like to kiss you, what you’d taste like, and even how you might react if he just kissed you randomly. Oh, and it definitely was not platonic to have dreams about you, especially not dreams that left his heart pounding and body tense.

Eddie had it bad for you, but he was scared of you finding out - scared not only that you’d reject him, but also that it would ruin your friendship completely and he’d then have no one anymore. He imagined scenarios of your possible reactions to finding out he had a crush on you, but he knew you’d never like him back, not like that - of course you wouldn’t, he thought miserably, because you were so amazing, so incredible, that why would you like him in that way?

He tucked away memories of certain moments in his mind, knowing that reliving them in his thoughts was the closest he’d ever get to actually being in a relationship with you; your beautiful eyes lighting up at the sight of him, a hand on his arm or shoulder, your laugh, the way you called him ‘Eddie’ so affectionately, how you stood up to those who bullied the two of you. It kept him going on even the worst days, and despite knowing he couldn’t tell you of his feelings, that it would most likely never happen, he was still so happy to just spend every day with you.

And then you were gone.

One day some distant relatives of yours came; they’d been overseas for the last several years and hadn’t realised your parents had died, that you’d been living in this rundown orphanage that no one in the city cared enough about to fix. You were overjoyed, not really to see them as you’d not really met them before but more so because it meant you’d get to leave this awful place, and once the staff of the orphanage were able to establish that they were indeed your relatives, you were going home with them.

It all happened very quickly; you were hurriedly made to pack your bag with the few belongings you had and rushed onwards without a backwards glance. As you approached the main door of the orphanage, however, you realised something.

“I need to say goodbye to Eddie,” You said, but when you attempted to turn around, one of the staff grabbed you by the arm and marched you forwards. “Wait, no, please, just let me say goodbye to him-!”

But none of them would listen, not even your relatives; you begged them for just five minutes so you could find your best friend, so you could give him a phone number or even an address to write to, but they refused - they wanted to get out of Gotham as soon as possible.

“He’s my best friend,” You pleaded desperately, on the verge of tears. “Please, I can’t leave without saying goodbye!”

But they merely told you that you’d make other friends in your new home, that soon enough you wouldn’t even remember this old friend of yours, and he’d probably forget you too. You cried hard as you were driven away, vowing to yourself that you’d find Eddie someday, you’d find a way to let him know where you were, that you’d see each other again one day.

Eddie had watched you disappear from the window of the boys’ room, and he’d cried; he cried because the staff hadn’t allowed him to come and say goodbye, because they’d locked him in this room so he couldn’t get out, but mostly because his heart was broken. His only friend - his best friend - was gone without so much as a goodbye, and he had no idea where you’d gone.

Why didn’t you say goodbye?, he thought, hurt by this fact: he cared so much about you, and he had hoped that you cared about him too, even if it was only as a friend. It was like you didn’t care about him, that it was all a lie - and it was like a knife to the gut.

As the days turned to weeks, and then to months and years, he waited for any sign that you cared about him, for a letter or some kind of communication. But nothing ever came. It was like you’d forgotten all about him.

He never forgot you though - never.

****

After your relatives died many years later, you used the money they had left you to return to Gotham; it was even more awful than you remembered due to the crime rate skyrocketing, and it was clear that the streets were run by criminals - and no one did a thing about it.

You went back to the orphanage, hoping to find some information on your old best friend - to find out what happened to him, to track him down - but it was abandoned save for a few dropheads hiding out there. There were no records left, no hints as to your old friend’s current whereabouts, and you found yourself crying when you got back to your new apartment in Gotham because you had no idea how you’d find him, no idea if he was even still in the city or where he might have gone.

Gotham was a big city - even if he was still there, your chances at finding him were slim. He had no social media that you could find, no records… you wondered if he was even alive anymore. You remembered how every winter, at least one of the babies had died in the orphanage, and the older kids soon became dropheads… what if that had happened to your Eddie? You couldn’t bear the thought of it.

You were so angry - so ridiculously, undeniably angry - at what that place had done to you and Eddie, what might have happened to him after you had been taken away. And as you spent longer and longer back in Gotham, this anger began to rise: you were realizing more than ever that the people who ran this city were corrupt, that they were in fact the same people responsible for the miserable childhood you and your best friend had endured. Just as during your childhood, no one did anything to help in this city - everyone just let it happen. The closest anyone had to justice was a damn masked vigilante running around dressed like a bat, and that wasn’t really helping much in terms of changing the overall corruption of the city.

Someone needed to do something - and if that had to be you, then so be it.

****

No one knew who the Riddler was - exactly how he wanted it.

Edward Nashton had built this persona carefully, had spent months plotting and planning things before they were put into motion. He had made sure everything was perfect: the coat one of his favourite shades of dark green, the mask hid everything but his eyes, it was comfortable and not too loose whilst allowing him to wear his glasses. There was no chance of leaving any of his DNA behind; his gloves were thick but didn’t leave fibres behind, he knew how to meticulously wrap his head in clingwrap before donning his mask so that there was no chance of hairs being left behind. Every inch of him was covered, even his mouth, and it would be impossible for the GCPD or anyone else to link The Riddler back to Edward Nashton, a forensic accountant. No one would suspect him, no one would know until he chose to reveal it.

But for now he had things that needed doing; the first step of his great plan was to murder the mayor, Don Mitchell Jr, on Halloween night. The death of the city mayor would change everything, and he almost couldn’t wait - but he had to, for he had something he needed to do first.

The director of the old Gotham Orphanage where he’d grown up was in his late fifties now, living comfortably on the outskirts of the city. Edward had done his research: the man had no family and lived alone - he was almost too easy a target. He was not a high profile figure, not like the mayor or the others who would form a part of his plan to bring to truth to the light - it was a personal matter, something he had to do for himself.

The director had been the one who punished him, who never stopped the bullying and abuse inflicted by the other children and staff - but worst of all, he was the one who had signed the documents that took his best friend away, the one who sneered as he refused to give any information or allow him to write a letter.

Perhaps it was selfish - he was doing this purely for himself and not for the city - but he didn’t care. No one could blame him for wanting to kill this man, and no one would miss him.

It was easy to sneak into the old director’s small apartment on the outside of the city; the man had left a window open before going out for dinner, and Edward had to try not to smirk under his mask as he used the fire escape to climb up and slip inside. Now all he had to do was wait.

The plan was simple: he would wait for the ex-director to return, hidden away behind the bedroom door, and then strike when the moment was right. He knew where exactly to strike the skull, how to stage it to look like he’d just fallen and never gotten up. No one would investigate further than what was immediately obvious - the GCPD weren’t clever enough for that, and wouldn’t want to put the work in for someone so meaningless.

As he entered the bedroom to wait, however, it became immediately clear that he wasn’t alone.

He deflected the blow that came his way easily despite his surprise, reaching for the bludgeon he had on his belt; the figure who had attacked him was reeling back, planning their next attack, and he noticed that they were smaller, their face covered by a balaclava, dressed completely in black. He hadn’t planned for an additional person - this was certainly not his target, and the fact they were masked made it obvious that they, like him, certainly weren’t supposed to be there either.

The figure launched again, and Edward grabbed them by the arm; they were either sloppy in their fighting or taken just as aback as he was by his appearance. He hadn’t been planning on killing a second person tonight, but if he had to then he would - it would be sloppy not to. The stranger huffed, trying to break free, and he pulled them closer so that he could manoeuvre them with both of his hands. The eyes behind the mask flashed and-

And he felt his breath catch. He knew those eyes: he’d thought about them every day and night since he was a child.

It couldn’t be.

He let go, and the stranger moved away, panting harshly. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck, dude???”

The voice was familiar - not quite the same, it was slightly older but he recognised the tone, the accent, the way this person spoke. He had never forgotten your voice - he had never forgotten anything about you, even years later.

“Listen, I’m here for someone in particular, I don’t want to hurt anyone else, so if you could just-”

“(Y/N)?” His voice was soft and muffled by the mask.

You stopped speaking, surprised that this person knew your name; you hadn’t really met anyone upon returning to Gotham, keeping to yourself, and even so, you’d thought your mask would provide you anonymity. “Do I know you?”

Now that you weren’t actively fighting this person, you got a good look at them; it was a man, judging by the stature and voice, and he was dressed in a green trench coat with a white question mark painted on the left side. The mask covered their whole face, but you realised now that they were wearing a pair of glasses.

With a jolt, you remembered that Eddie had worn glasses like that. But it couldn’t be him, it couldn’t possibly…

You hesitated for a moment before reaching up and removing your mask; the eyes behind the glasses widened in recognition, and you realised those eyes were green - just like his, the exact same shade.

“Eddie?” You murmured, heart pounding.

For a moment, the masked figure didn’t say anything - and then, slowly, he removed his glasses before reaching up and pulling his mask off.

He had grown up, just as you had, but you knew: this was Eddie, your Eddie. Even though he’d wrapped his head in something, even though his face was older than that of the teenage boy you’d loved, even though it had been years, you knew it was him.

“I…” You felt your throat close up. “Eddie.”

“(Y/N)…” He looked thunderstruck at the sight of you as he replaced the glasses onto his face. “I… Hi.”

Before you could stop yourself, you were throwing your arms around him whilst trying to hold your tears back. “Fuck, Eddie, I’ve been trying to find you! I thought…” You sniffed. “I missed you.”

He was surprised by this, but you felt a tentative hand on your back as he relaxed slightly. “I missed you too.”

You pulled away to look at him, a flurry of emotions running through you; you couldn’t believe it, that after all this time, after all the pain and heart ache of being separated from him, you’d found him when you weren’t even expecting it. Now you were looking at him properly, you could see that this was without a doubt your best friend - there was no mistaking it.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, head still spinning. “And… why are you dressed like that?”

Eddie opened his mouth and closed it again, not certain on how to answer. “Oh. I’m… well… this is what I do,” He said carefully. “I was… waiting for someone.”

“Oh.”

“And why are you here? And dressed like that?” He asked, rather perplexed.

You hesitated for the second time that evening, not sure of how much to tell him - you didn’t think he would go to the police or turn you in, but you were completely sure of how he’d react to the truth. But then, you thought as you looked at how he was dressed, perhaps he understood more than you thought. “For the same reason as you, I think; I’m here for him.”

You could tell by the way his eyes lit up with understanding that you were right. “We’re both after the same person - to make him pay.”

There were a lot of things the two of you needed to discuss - you hadn’t seen each other for roughly a decade and a half, after all - but you were both aware of where you were, and that you didn’t have time to have that conversation here. Instead, you toyed with your mask before sending the man in front of you a meaningful look.

“How about,” You began slowly. “We work together and take care of this guy, and then maybe we can catch up later?”

Eddie considered this for a moment before slowly nodding and preparing to put his own mask back on. “I think that’s a good plan.”

As it turned out, it was so much easier to do with two.

****

Crap ending be crap lol

May write a follow up to this where they talk and he confesses his feelings, who knows? 😉

#the riddler #edward nashton #paul dano #the batman #danonation #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #the riddler imagine #asks #paul dano x reader

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fantasticalchaos · 5 months

Text

Inktober 2023 Masterlist

A/N: This is a simple masterlist to compile the fanarts and fics I created for the 2 fandoms I love during Inktober 2023! Also to note that I couldn’t finish all the days and had to make due with what I had 🙇‍♀️

Around October 2023, I took on the inktober challenge for two fandoms: Skylanders & the Hakkitos (Fans for the vtuber, Banzoin Hakka)!

I always wanted to a) break out of my long creative block/burnout, b) practice more on making digital art, and c) create more fanart!!! >:D

Navigation:

📝 = Writing | Perhaps a few short stories, headcanons or ramblings

🎨 = Art | Either traditional drawings or digital art!

🔃 = Two or more prompts are connected

🐦= I forgot to post it here on Tumblr, so it’s stuck in the bird’s nest (aka Twitter/X)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡═*.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.*═⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾

Hakkitober 2023 | Hakkitos / Banzoin Hakka

Prompt List:

Hakkitocord on X: "INSPIRED BY THE EVER POPULAR INKTOBER, THE HAKKITOCORD WOULD LIKE TO PRESENT...#Hakkitober2023 !! This is fun little daily art prompt for every day in October! We hope you enjoy! And as always, if there's any questions, please feel free to join the discord! Have fun everyone! https://t.co/ffXAGXbhPA" / X (twitter.com)

🍂 Autumn 🍂 - “Until We Meet Again” | “Autumn… the season in which some animals, such as birds had to go away. Away for a long, long while…” 📝

🍁 Animals 🐿️ - 🎨

🍹 Host Club 💐 | “The Hakkafe has fallen into hard times…” 📝

🧚‍♂️ Fairytales 🧚‍♀️- 🎨

🧁 Cupcake 🧁 - Have a Hakkito-themed cupcake buddy!! 🐦🎨

🦄 Magical Creature 🦄 - 🎨

☕️ Hakkafe Shift ☕️ - 🎨

🪡 Fashion 💅 - 🐦🎨

🍓 Strawberry 🍓 - 🎨

🔅 Excorcist Training 🔅-

🏚️ Haunted House 👻 -

🫘 Candy 🍭 - Connected with Ghost 🎨🔃

👻 Ghost 👻 - Connected with Candy 🎨🔃

🟣 Senpai 🔅- An outfit swap!!! 🎨

🔅 Hakka Stream 👾 - I do have a wip of a fic I wanted to do for this prompt. Couldn’t finish it as my writing brain cells weren’t working ;w; One day, hopefully… 💡📝

🎼 Music 🎶 - I had no idea what to do with day ueueue💡

♏️ Astrology ♎️ - TW // Eyestrain 🎨

🧸 Storytelling 📖 - 🎨

🎮 Gaming ⛏️ - 🐦🎨

✨ Guildmates ✨- So, I did drew a piece of fanart, but I feel like this is more general??? It was also Magni’s birthday that day, so it’s more fitted as a stand-alone. Maybe I’ll make a different piece one day, but I just wanted to put it in for now. 💡(?)

🍂 Raking Leaves 🍁 - 🎨

🔅 Treats 🍬 - 🎨

😴 Nap 🌙 - 🎨

Magic A.U. - OKAY SO *claps hands* this was about me writing headcanons on what Twst dorms would the HoloTempus (all of HQ & VG) be in!! It eventually ended being too long it might become a part series lol!! And HoloARMIS just debuted (give them a shot if you would like), and I wanna make another part for the new bois too ;w; 💡📝

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Skytober 2023 | Skylanders

Prompt list:

✨ Magic ✨ - The start of it all!!! 🎨

⚙️ Tech ⚙️ - 🎨

🏔️ Earth 🏔️- Connected with Air 🎨🔃

🌪️ Air 🌪️ - Connected with Earth 🎨🔃

🍃 Life 🍃 - 🎨

💀 Undead 🐍 - Connected with Water 🎨🔃

💧 Water ❄️ - Connected with Undead 🎨🔃

🔥 Fire 🔥 - 🎨

☀️ Light ☀️ - Potential TW // Eyestrain 🎨

🌙 Dark 🌙 - TW // Eyestrain 🎨

🧞‍♀️ Giant 🧞‍♀️ - 🎨

🐙 Swap Force 🔥 - 🎨

🪤 Trap Master 🪤 - Connected with Supercharger 🎨🔃

🏎️ Supercharger 🚤 - Connected with Trap Master 🎨🔃

🧑‍🏫 Sensei 🧑‍🏫 - Connected with Imaginator (kinda) 🎨🔃

💎 Imaginator 💭 - Connected with Sensei (in a way…) 🎨🔃

🦹‍♀️ Villain 🦹‍♀️ - With a bonus little comic doodle included!! 🎨

🦸 Ally 🦸 - TW // Eyestrain 🎨

✈️ Mabu 🗺️ - 🎨

🧌 Troll 🧌 - 🎨

💚 Chompy 💚 - 🎨🔃 Connected to Spellpunk

🐉 Dragon 🐉 - I will do this one, as I LOVE the dragons in the game!!! Especially since they were one of the reason why I fell in love with this series c:💡

🧙 Spellpunk 🧙- 🎨🔃 Connected to Chompy

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If reached to the end, congrats!!! Thank you for taking your time to read this long list! ☺️

I’m sorry for not completely the last remaining days for others! 🙇‍♀️ I’m surprised that I lasted this long in a month; with so many drawings and breaking out of my (elongated) writers’ block to bust out a few fics!!

Additionally, I wanted to thank both the op’s for both Skytober & Hakkitober!! I can’t thank you both enough for creating these fun challenges for everyone to do! As well as to thank you to everyone else that joined and created their own works for each day!! Everyone’s artworks and fics were all amazing! Y’all really inspired and motivated me during the drawing month as well as contributing my growth as an artist and freed me (even just for a moment) from writers block! 🫶🫶

#APOLOGIES TO ANYONE IN THE TAGS MENTIONED SEEING THIS 🙇‍♀️#I’m just making a humble masterlist of my doodles and (few) fics #AND BY ANYONE I MEAN THE TWO FANDOMS!!! SORRY FOR BOMBARDING THIS MASTERLIST IN THE TAGS #masterlist #inktober 2023 #Skylanders #skylanders fanart #banzoin hakka #hakkitos #skytober #skytober 2023 #Skylanders skytober #Hakkitober #Hakkitober 2023 #inktober masterlist 2023 #long post #sorry about that 😅

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emcscared-whumps · 1 year

Note

🖋- pen or pencil

📓- do you actually write in your notebooks

📈📉- do you plot your stories

⌨️- are you a good typer

⌛️- what is the longest you’ve worked on a piece of writing

📺- would you watch your wip on a movie

💻- do you write online or by hand

📖- favorite thing about your current wip

⚠️- what is your current wip

🏚- what is an abandoned wip

🔮- what genre do you enjoy writing

📚-would you write a series

📕- would you consider publishing

From this post!

Oh wow there are a fair few things here, this'll be fun >:)))))) Thanks for the ask ^-^

🖋- Pen or Pencil?

I personally prefer pens, they write darker with less pressure so I can try and keep the tension down :)

📓- Do You Actually Write in Your Notebooks?

Omfg I love this question, it's such a call-out for notebook hoarders X'D

Of which I am one of

I do actually! It's just that my collection of Cool Notebooks exceeds the amount that I actually use them ^-^'

Since they're often too big to carry around for everyday use, I use a smaller notebook that fits easier into my satchel or jacket pocket. If I'm not carrying that, my phone works well for note-taking and doodling too :)

For plotting and actual writing though, I prefer to do that on my computer, so there's not an excessive need for them. Why will be detailed in a different question :3

📈📉- Do You Plot Your Stories?

Answered here

⌨️- Are You a Good Typer?

I've done tests for fun, so, if i'm going flat-out, I can get to 60wpm with +95% accuracy

That said, on bad days I can be very clumsy with my fingers, and don't even get me started on my phone lmaoooo

I can also type with my eyes closed/not seeing the keyboard with... more accuracy than I expected

I like to think I'm not too shabby :)

⌛️- What is the Longest You’ve Worked on a Piece of Writing?

Answered here

📺- Would You Watch Your Wip on a Movie?

Would I watch... the movie version of my wip...? I think that's what this question is asking lol (I'm a bit smoothbrain tired, bear with me lmfao)

Yes, absolutely!

I created Shifting Phases for my own personal consumption and enjoyment, (and then inflicted the brainrot onto the whump communtiy when I found you guys), which means, if there were a movie created of it... First of all, I'd be flattered lol. Then I'd bingewatch it over and over and over ^-^'

My only preference would be that it's animated lmao

(It'd make for quite the long movie though, so maybe multi-part TV special :3)

💻- Do You Write Online or by Hand?

I prefer to write on my computer for ease of changing formatting… and changing everything pretty much. Editing is so much easier too, I can just nab an entire paragraph, mark it red, re-write it, and delete the old one and have it look seamless.

I do use a cloud storage app for my folders though, that way I can access them and work on them from my phone, but the originals are all kept on my computer. I'll eventually get a harddrive, and keep backup copies on there in case anything were to happen.

I don't wanna lose literal years of work ^-^'

📖- Favorite Thing About Your Current Wip?

One of the whump scenes, but which... Because choosing my blorbo Pete is too obvious of an answer ^-^'

I suppose I always come back to drool over the reveal to Kate, or perhaps, when Timmy rescues Pete and holds him :)

The fountain scene is a contender though, and oldie, but a goodie :3

⚠️- What is Your Current Wip?

Answered here

🏚- What is an Abandoned Wip?

Oh this one's tricky... Had to do some deep thinking (deep thought got interrupted by a VERY sudden crack of thunder and gave me a heart attack)

Because I'd never really tried to write much before Shifting Phases, or if I tried something, it lacked a plot and was directionless and meandering... Basically just writing exercises that I stuck with for maybe one or two nights.

I'd say... Oh! Yes!

The working title is The Fight for Solaris!

I wouldn't call it abandoned, but it's definitely dormant. It's about zombies and aliens on the other planets/moons of our solar system, and there's some fun stuff happening with that. The zombies are infected by some sort of cordyceps fungus, and it's a bit messed, an alien gets caught up in the middle of it and has a terrible time trying to survive and keep their cover lmfao

I don't have much of a direction to take the plot in, but there's definitely something, and there's lore! A fair chunk of lore!

I don't know when exactly this was, I'd have to trawl through old art and notes for any dates I may've written, but my estimation is that it's of a similar age, or perhaps a bit older than Shifting Phases.

I should revive (heh) it (it was based on another dead group rp with those same school friends, I think it was too new of an idea to have been given a revival like Shifting Phases though... and also like it, it never actually took off).

It'd even out my diet a bit... a change in scenery (lmao)

🔮- What Genre do You Enjoy Writing?

Answered here

📚-Would You Write a Series?

I am >:) Shifting Phases has a sequel kicking around in my brain, and also an AU spinoff ehehe ^-^' Probably counts as a series if I were to publish physical books... just a very short one

Anyways yeah, Shifting Phases has like... 5 parts with a bunch of chapters in each of them, so posted to Tumblr, it would totally count as a series. Idk what it'd be on Ao3 tho, I don't have a good grasp on how it works just yet ^-^' Been a bit too distracted/busy to learn tbh (but it is indeed on the to-do list)

I also have... one other? Idea set in Ewrancore, which will eventually also be a whump fic, so, yeah! If the two Pete fics and an au aren't enough, Malté will get counted lol

Anyways, yes, if an idea presents itself, I will try to format it in a way that suits it, and if that involves making it a series, then that is what must be done o7

📕- Would You Consider Publishing?

With @ thewhumpyprintingpress recent publication of Hurt and Comfort A Whump Anthology, I'd say that there's a good possibility that when Shifting Phases is ready, I can publish it and print it as a physical novel! That would be amazing to me, and that is actually my ultimate goal with that fic :)

It's just so encouraging to see things called whump published and printed, so, yes ^-^

One day :) <3

#emc answers asks #ask #ask game #answered ask #writeblr

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electricbluebutterflies · 2 years

Note

Jess/Leto + Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

I am still not where I wanna be with writing NSFW content for them but at least I tried. Mid-era and also on ao3

Every day the internal weight is different. Every day something haunts her, some part of this life she has claimed feels out of place, but the inconsistency makes it easier, the randomly shifting emotions she hides so well. No one knows. No one will ever need to know.

Today is easier than most, easier to slip into roles and tasks she still must remind herself were never meant to be hers. But they are all the same, and she has become good at them despite…

Jessica never intended any of this, was not made to be a primary woman, but her intent has never mattered. Things happen and she adapts, and out of this a life. Out of this, happiness.

An easier day, a life lived half-awake even as she waits for inevitable consequences, for the apparently delayed punishment for choices that have yet to seem strange at all. Waiting for consequences almost ten years now, almost a third of her life and nothing, and maybe it’ll be alright, maybe they stay safe, maybe-

No. She knows better. Nothing good ever lasts. She will protect what is hers, and she will still not be enough.

This is not enough to darken her mood, not enough to make her difficult as night comes and she waits up for her partner as she does almost every night she is not otherwise occupied. If anything, the fear focuses her heart. She will take what she can whenever she can – and hasn’t that been the problem? If she had been able to quiet her heart, if she had remembered for three damn seconds that her own desires will never matter, if she hadn’t been so distracted…

And she is distracted, a decade later, distracted enough to barely hear the door open. Her posture changes quickly as she snaps out of it, not too late to salvage routines, to try to be pretty enough, to-

Another wave of fear hits, and she knows this one is invalid but it is still real. She is not as she once was, her beauty slowly changing form, and she has trusted her partner’s fidelity since before he offered it but she still-

Why her, she wonders sometimes. Her lover is like sunlight, everything he is believed to be and she knows his every weakness more than any living thing ever will. She has watched what he has become, how at worst the weight of power has made him tired, how little else has changed. She has done nothing here, has not needed to change a single detail, has not wanted to, has not-

He kisses the top of her head and she looks at him with wet eyes and oh sometimes this love feels like the undoing she’d once feared. Like something she will drown in someday, and still she has never wanted anything more.

“Say if you need me to stop,” he murmurs, taking her silence for the permission it is.

She is safe in this space, with this man who has never done wrong by her with any intent. Her body is safe; the hands that undo her dress are familiar and kind, almost extensions of herself. She closes her eyes and tries to focus herself, but she can feel the way he looks at her, respectful and still a little bit in awe of details he has seen thousands of times. If he is the sun, she thinks, then perhaps she is the night sky, perhaps-

He kisses her hand and works upward, leaving little echoes of warmth up her arm and across her collarbone and up her neck and finally her mouth where she wants it most. This is the kind of man he is, delighted by her, expressive enough about it, and she-

She has done nothing to earn this, she reminds herself, eyes still closed and she bites her lip as they break for air because he will stop touching her if she starts crying and right now she does not want that. They have time, for now they have time, they are safe they are here they are-

“Stay with me.”

“I trust you enough.”

And she does, and maybe that’s the messiest part of it all, maybe even more forbidden than how she has used her body. She was never taught what to do with affection, not what to do if, skies forbid, she actually did learn how to care about another human being. It’s the innocence that throws her off, not the fact that her lover has decided most of her skin needs kisses but the fact that she is completely sure that he feels even warmer than she does right now. She knows him, she reminds herself, knows he does not fake emotions past whatever point is necessary to avoid public conflict. The desire in his eyes is real, the soft smiles against her skin are real, the intent in every movement of his hands is real.

She has done nothing. She will bring downfall. She is loved anyways. She will never understand. Someday she will stop trying and accept it all as it is.

Today is not that day, and her mind and body feel comfortably separate as her partner covers her and finds familiar patterns of collision. She is watching this scene from outside, somehow, and it is perfectly alright that way. She will feel echoes of touch in the morning, held against her skin by a tighter underdress, reminders that she is beloved. She is chaos incarnate some days, some minor goddess of destruction of a long-abandoned planet, but she is also what her partner wants most in the world, able to take the weight just enough, able to-

He breathes her name against the curve of her neck and she loves him too much, this beautiful man who will someday burn too bright but hasn’t yet, please give them decades before she has to learn to sleep without him, please-

Jessica takes a particularly bitey kiss as her control is almost not enough, as her body is tense and then it is not and that is enough to make her partner follow. There is nothing else in the world but this, their intertwined limbs and the safety they give each other, both made powerful like this, like-

Her partner shifts his weight off her body and looks her over, looking for marks he didn’t leave. “Still in there?”

She responds with a soft kiss, a sweetness she rarely shows. “I trust you,” she says again. “And I did want that. I’m just…”

He makes a low sound, too low to be a sigh but in that sort of range, like yes he knows this could deteriorate into a fight they’ve had hundreds of times but he’s not in the mood to go there. “I want to…”

“I know.”

And she does. She could recite from memory… if not the exact wording, then at least the general outline of the tangents he gets into sometimes about wanting to do right by her. And he does, she wants to say every time and never does enough to be listened to. She is loved so completely, and she knows, and love like that requires response, and that is how they became what they are, and-

“I don’t deserve you,” he says after almost too long of a silence. “I really don’t.”

Jessica rolls her eyes. “You don’t deserve the constant stress I cause, you mean.”

“Not constant, and you balance it…”

“I try, love.” Things she’d say more if she were braver, she thinks. If she could become the sort of woman who uses endearments while curling up for sleep with her partner. If she were actually good enough.

She’s not sure she is, as she retreats to her side of the bed because she is in no mood to be held and she is fully aware that she’ll probably wake up closer to her partner but…

She does try. And sometimes, in the deepest part of the night, it almost feels like enough.

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

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seita · 3 years

Text

— better than (m.)

pairing : iwaizumi/reader

wordcount : 3.087

genre : fluff, smut, pwp

cw : college!au, athletic trainer!iwaizumi

tags : implied age gap (hes 27 reader is in college- age nkt specified. he's older tho), size kink, dom!iwa, pussy job (a lil bit), multiple orgasms, sensitivity kink (if u squint), squirting, fingering, creampie, aftercare.

note : this was just an excuse to write about how iwaizumi is better than any other boy <3 thank u to @toshisins for beta'ing this for me <3

+ summary : you're so tired of dumb college boys who hump and dump, with no stroke game, and can never even try to get you off. that is, until you meet 27 year old iwaizumi hajime.

When you first met Iwaizumi Hajime at the bar near your college campus, you noticed how good looking he was. Well, that was an understatement - he was tall, fit with tanned skin and a confident aura that made you weak in the knees.

You hadn't actually had the courage to approach him, however. Instead, you let some college boy buy you a cheap drink and take you home for some mediocre sex before kicking you out after not even 15 minutes of his reckless humping.

The second time you met him was at the same place. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that was almost empty. His back was to you and it gave you a wonderful view of his broad shoulders.

The mediocre lay from the last time you had been there attempted to chat you up again with false confidence, as if he had been the best fuck of your life. Naturally, you weren't having any of his bullshit - he tried to rub your clit like a scratch and sniff, forcing you to pry his hand away from it, there was no chance in hell you were giving him another second of your time. He definitely wasn't the type of guy who took rejection well, if not evident by the way he exploded and went off calling you a wide, colorful variety of names paired with numerous hurtful insults that had tears of humiliation filling your eyes.

“Hey now,” a smooth, deep voice had interrupted his very public spiel, “Don’t punish the girl for your own short comings, if she doesn't wanna fuck you again, don't you think that says more about your abilities as a man?”

The other man sputtered, muttering even more curses before storming out - probably not wanting to tussle with a guy who looked like he benched every second of his day.

There was something about Iwaizumi that just immediately had your heart skipping a beat over him. He was kind, a gentleman, and never seemed desperate or overbearing. He was confident and comfortable with himself and where he was in life.

You quickly learned that Iwaizumi was 27, almost 28 and worked as an athletic trainer so he traveled a lot.

For a while, your relationship seemed one sided with him. You'd text him and he’d reply but he rarely ever actually reached out to you. You tried flirting with him, asking him out for drinks, but it never seemed to pull him in.

It was frustrating. In basically no time at all, you had developed a stupid puppy dog crush on him. You felt like a middle school girl with a crush on a high school senior - like he was never going to give you the time of day. You were simply too young for him.

You eventually stopped trying with him, choosing to delete your message thread with him and continued on with your life.

You went through more college-boy hookups - all of them ending in disaster. Quite frankly, you were fed up with mediocre cock and being treated like shit when they were done with you. It wasn't a nice feeling, being kicked out after they didn't even bother trying to make you cum.

You couldn’t help but wonder what Iwaizumi would be like in bed. He was just so attractive, you knew he had gotten his dick wet more times than he could count. He definitely seemed the type who preferred relationships over hookups.

That's when it occurred to you.

You pulled out your phone and scoured your contacts. It had been a couple weeks since you spoke but you couldn't resist bugging him just one last time. You opened a new message thread with him and quickly typed the question that was now plaguing your mind.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

It was the question that had changed the course of your relationship with him.

When you asked, it was like everything fell into place. Perhaps it finally relayed to him the interest you had. All that really mattered was the fact he suddenly began talking to you, starting conversations and even venturing into phone calls with you.

You lost all interest in those college boys you once hung out with and went home with to get laid. None of them made you feel the way Iwaizumi could with a simple text message. He was everything a girl could ask for and you were shocked he was single.

Which was why you were quick to ask him on a date, not caring if it made you look desperate -- you practically were. You would be damned if he went off the market while you were busy beating around the bush.

Going on a date with Iwaizumi was like a dream. You were so used to dates at sleazy bars for a couple of drinks just so they could hurry up and take you home for a quick fuck.

Iwaizumi took the time to take you on several dates -- dinner, movies, walks around town to obscure shops he thought you might like, before it finally led to the bedroom.

You had never been nervous with sex but with Iwaizumi it was different. The routine was dumb college boys who usually fawned over your tits for a few minutes before their hard ons became the center of their brain function.

You found yourself completely bare on his bed as he stood at the foot, fully clothed. The way his eyes raked across your body like a lion eyeing its next, delicious meal had you curling in on yourself shyly.

His lips quirked up as your arms came across your breasts, shielding them from his predatory gaze, “Oh now, you know better than that, don’t you? What kind of good girl hides herself, hm? Acted so eager for my cock all this time, now you wanna be shy?”

You gasp, cheeks flushing hot as you register his words -- he’d known you wanted him that badly all this time?

He clicks his tongue, “You didn’t think you were subtle did you? Bet you would have done anything to get your paws on my dick when I got off work early the other day, hm? Showed up at your apartment...you were starin’ real hard at me, I’m right aren’t I?”

You think that to that day, lashes fluttering against your cheeks at the memory. He was wearing loose gray sweats and a muscle tank top that showed his biceps flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes had immediately been drawn, however more down to his crotch instead. Where you could clearly see the outline of his cock through the material.

You had stuffed your little fingers in your cunt for hours that night, thinking about how big he looked -- even soft, couldn’t imagine if he was hard.

“Ah, there you go again,” he muses, snapping you out of your haze, “Maybe if you ask real pretty for me, I’ll give you just what you want.”

“Please,” you immediately gasp, “Want you so much Hajime, i-it hurts. Can’t stop thinkin’ about you…”

“It hurts?” he huffs, finally reaching up to pull his shirt off, leaving you to ogle his pecs and defined abs, which flex as he works on removing his jeans, “Needy little cunt hurts ‘cause you don’t have a nice, fat cock stuffing it full? Such a dramatic little baby. I just know your phone is full of some little college boys’ numbers...why don’t you give them a call?”

You shake your head, “Don’t want them! I just know they’re not as good as you, Hajime, please...please make me cum, I'll do anything?”

“Aw, those idiot little boys don’t know how to make a pretty girl like you cum, is that it?” he asks, climbing onto the bed, making the mattress dip beneath you as he slots himself between your thighs.

“No,” you pout, letting him spread your legs, hands under your knees to open you up to his greedy gaze.

“So compliant with me, you just need a real man to get you off, huh?” he smiles when you nod, “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of you.”

Oh, you knew. Just from the way he moved his hips against yours, parting your folds so the head of his cock glided from your clenching little hole, dragging your slick up to your clit -- you just knew that he knew what he was doing.

As you looked between your legs, you felt yourself gush at the sight. His cock was so big, long and fat, drooling precum over your slick little slit, making a mess. He wrapped his fist around his length, making you whimper as his fingers couldn’t even wrap around the girth of him. He slapped his cock against your cunt, groaning at the strings of your slick that clung to him.

“Such a messy cunt,” he sighs, making sure to spank your clit with the head of his cock, laughing breathlessly when your thighs jumped in response to the sudden stimulation, “So fucking eager for me, aren’t you?”

“Uhuh,” you sigh, arching your hips, “Want you to fuck, please, Hajime, need it so bad.”

Much to your dismay, he shakes his head, “Can’t just put it in, pretty baby,” the pet name makes you whimper, “It’ll hurt too much, want you to feel good, yeah?”

“I can handle it,” you breathlessly reassure, canting his hips upward once more to drag your clit against that ridge on the crown of his cock, “Jus’ put it in…”

He doesn’t respond this time but still makes no move to put his cock inside. You’re distracted, however, by the way he now focuses on playing with your clit. Using his cock, he drags the underside across the hard little bud, slaps it once with the tip and before you know it your body is seizing up and you cum.

You let out a string of curses, falling limp against the bed as he works you through the quick high.

“See, that was so easy,” he chuckles, “Those stupid little boys you’ve been letting screw you have no idea what they’re doing, do they? Little cunts so sensitive, I barely even had to do anything to make you cum.”

You’re still trembling when you come down, licking your lips as you give him a dopey little smile and a nod at his cooing. He can’t resist leaning down, and pressing his lips against yours almost desperately. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in a deep kiss while his hand finds its way between your legs, two fingers sliding easily into your slick little cunt.

You moan into his mouth, “Hajime ah! ...please, make me cum again.”

“Fuck, you’re so desperate for me,” he hisses through his teeth, “Clenching around my fingers so tight. If I crook my fingers...right here...I bet you’ll just…”

As if on cue, his fingertips hook on your g-spot and you squeal, legs kicking out as you gush around his fingers. He bites his lip and continues to fuck his fingers against that spot, watching your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent cry as you cum for the second time in mere minutes.

“Y-You’re so good, Hajime…” you praise softly, “Fuck, please, give me your cock now!”

He laughs and sits up properly again, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He examines them for a second, slick with your cum and streaks of cream covering the digits before he pops them into his mouth with a moan, savoring the taste of you.

“Alright, baby,” he sighs after pulling out his fingers with a pop!. He grips you beneath the knees again and scoots closer until his tip prods at your entrance. You shudder at the feeling, “Relax for me, pretty girl, let me in…”

Iwaizumi begins pushing in, letting out a soft groan as the head finally buries itself in your cunt. You squeal at the feeling, pulling your knees closer to your chest. The sound of you moaning and whimpering just from his head has him throbbing almost painfully against your tender cunt.

“Almost there…” he huffs, grinning at the sight of your eyes rolling back, “Ah, does that feel good?”

“Yes!” you cry out, “Biggest cock I’ve ever had…’s full…”

“Yeah, baby? It feels so good to finally get your cunt filled with a nice, big cock huh?” he laughs when you nod eagerly, “It’s alright, baby. You won’t have to deal with any mediocre college boys anymore, yeah? This cock’s all yours now…you hear that? All yours.”

Your hand flies down between your legs, finding your clit. He watches with lidded eyes as you circle the little bud and squeal, keeping his hips still to let you cum around his cock nice and hard like you need.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he hums, “Get yourself off, you know what you need...atta girl…”

You sigh happily at his praise, licking your lips and relax against the bed once more. He takes that as his hint that you were ready, pulling his hips back before roughly slamming back inside your sensitive cunt. It knocks the air from your lungs and you cry out, unable to hold back your noises as he fucks you senseless.

He uses his strength to keep you pinned, forcing your knees against your chest, leaving your cunt open and vulnerable to his pistoning cock. Iwaizumi is so big that the stretch burns every time he sinks back into you, the tip touching your cervix with every calculated thrust, making your entire body ache with the deep pain of it.

But it all feels so good, you’d never been fucked like that before. He knew exactly where to aim his cock, keeping his eyes fixed on your face to watch your reactions, gaze flicking down to where his cock stuffs your cunt full to watch you coat him in your cream whenever he grazes that sweet little spot deep inside you -- a spot no other man had ever tried to find before.

“Feel good?” he questions, though he knew the answer even before you cry it out.

“Ah, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you sob, “I-It feels so good, Hajime! Fuck, you’re so good at fucking me! You make me feel like a virgin all over again!”

He grins, “Yeah, I know I am, baby.”

His cocky, confident response would have been a turn off with any other man, but with him -- it only made you moan. He had every right to be cocky, he knew just how to use his cock and it was exhilarating.

“You gotta cum again for me, pretty,” he pants, “Cum again, one more time, let go.”

Your throat burns from how much you scream for him, the messy noises coming from him fucking your sloppy cunt should be embarrassing -- you’ve never made such a mess before. You’ve never been so wet, creaming and gushing all the way down his balls.

He didn’t seem to mind, instead he seemed to only be turned on by it.

“I want you to squirt, can you do that for me? Make a pretty mess for me.”

You shake your head, “D-Don’t know how...Can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby,” he purrs, “I can make you, you know that I will.”

You didn’t but, you couldn’t help but nod -- immediately believing him and trusting him. He shifts his knees just slightly, changing his center of balance before his palm curls over your pubic bone, thumb effortlessly finding itself pressed against your clit.

The change in angle lets him hit your g-spot even more brutal than before. You’re immediately arching and crying out for him, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm slam into you faster than you’d ever experienced.

Instead of slowing you down, he works you through it, keeping the same, animalistic pace and keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, the rough pad of his thumb has you ogling. If anything, the calloused hands of Iwaizumi proves to you how much of a real man he is, those college boys have nothing on him.

“Give it to me, c’mon,” he urges, clenching his teeth together from the effort it takes to keep going to this hard and fast pace.

“H-Haji…” you cut yourself off as you feel yourself get thrown over the edge again. This time, something feels different and you can’t help but sob, “Please! I-I’m gonna-!”

“That’s it, fuck!” he moans, pace stuttering when you squirt -- your cum splashing against his abs as you shudder and squeal, “Good fuckin’ girl, my good girl. Shit, where do you want me to cum?”

“I-Inside! Fuck, please! I need your cum!” you immediately sob, nails biting in his biceps where you reach out to grip him -- trembling and crying from overstimulation as he works towards his own high.

“You sure? Shit,” you nod, breathless pleas falling from your lips as he finally stills, spilling his load deep inside with a long, drawn-out groan.

Everything is still for a moment and then he’s pulling out with a hiss. You whine at the feeling of your cunt gaping, yearning for his cock again, as his cum leaks out.

He hums, “Sorry about that, let me get you cleaned up.”

You sigh, and close your eyes, trying to relax and let your body settle its trembling. He comes back and quietly works on cleaning the mess between your thighs.

“Alright, up you go,” he sighs, taking your arm and helping you to your feet. You whine and wobble for a second, making him laugh, “You good?”

“Y-Yeah…” you stumble a bit and lean against his dresser, looking for your discarded clothes.

He has his back to you as he strips his sheets. Suddenly, you feel shut out -- like you shouldn’t be there anymore.

He brushes past you to his closet, pulling out some fresh sheets. You feel silly, standing there naked while he gets ready for bed. You bend down and grab your panties, clumsily putting them on before moving to pick up your dress, where it’s crumpled on the floor.

“What’re you doing?” he laughs, “That won’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Huh?” you tilt your head to the side and he pauses fluffing his pillows.

“What...you didn’t think I was kicking you out, did you?” he asks and scoffs at the face you make.

“Well I...usually I…” you shift on your feet nervously and he frowns, walking up to you.

He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him, “Jesus, who have you been fucking?” he laughs and gently nudges you towards the bed, “Lay down before you fall over.”

Fighting back a smile, you do as you’re told and sit on the bed, watching as he puts on a fresh pair of sweats, waiting for him to join you. When he does, he immediately pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Take a nap, and then we’ll take a shower.”

“It’s 11 at night, it wouldn’t be a nap,” you counter with a giggle.

“Well,” he sighs, “Take a shower in the morning then, and then we can go get breakfast, yeah?”

You smile and relax against him, “Sounds good.”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #hajime iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #afton.writes

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1kook · 3 years

Text

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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finelinevogue · 3 years

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the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don��t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

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