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yoonieper · 1 year

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Santa Baby | JHS

"Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight~"

❅ Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

❅ Genre: coworkers to lovers, kinda fluffy, smut

❅ Rated: U for Unexpected

❅ Warnings: fingering, protected sex, a little spice to get your day going 😌

❅ Word Count: 3.1k

❅ Summary: A company dinner turns into a night of unexpected passion with your work friend.

❅ Thank you: Thank you to @jamaisjoons for the banner (ik you made this a year ago 😅)~

❅ Author’s Note: This was very rushed so it’s shorter than I planned, but hope y’all still enjoy (a cup of spice is always nice :’D)~ I have more Hobi fics planned so stay tuned for that~ This was actually meant to be posted last year for an event my net was hosting but y’all know me, can’t meet deadlines for shit :’)

JHS Entertainment. You had only started working at the company earlier this year and it was the place you had dreamed of being at since you decided you wanted to go into the film industry.

The position wasn’t exactly what you pictured, you were oftentimes stuck on a computer editing rather than helping film big ideas like you had hoped. You had to make your way up the ladder in order for you to get to where you really wanted and within the months you worked at JHS you had already managed to get promoted. You knew it was going to be a long road ahead of you but you still felt proud of yourself as the end of the year rolled around.

During your time at the company you had even made a few friends. None of you had really hung out with each other outside of work, the most being anytime your department heads invited you out to dinner, or the one time a few months ago you all went on this “team-building” retreat.

You never thought you would be a big fan of those types of things, anytime in the past you’ve been dragged into those situations you wanted to be anywhere but with your coworkers after hours.

This time though, anytime you’d walk into work you had fun memories to laugh with your coworkers about because of them.

You would always laugh with Jess about that time on the retreat that Gavin drunkenly professed his love to the director by singing his heart out and spilled wine all over her expensive outfit (they’re dating now).

You would sometimes gossip with Tisha about all the countless rumors you would hear about Peter and Cassie and their supposed affair despite both of them being married after she caught them making out in the bathroom.

You had great memories working here, your boss was nice, your coworkers for the most part were amazing, you really had everything to be thankful for as the year began to close out.

Working at JHS even gave you the opportunity to meet him, Jung Hoseok, one of your best work friends. You both worked in the same department and he was hired just a few months before you. You both bonded over being the new person and that connection eventually blossomed into your friendship today.

As much as you loved your job, most of the people you worked with you could only foresee being a work friend and nothing more. Hoseok and Ruby, another coworker who was hired around the same time, were the only ones you could actually see yourself staying in touch with if you were to ever leave.

You guys had even tried to make plans outside of work occasionally but work or home duties always got in the way you would always need to cancel. You still wanted to try and make an “unofficial meeting” happen eventually.

You had your friends and your fair share of relationships with your team and you couldn’t honestly be at a happier point in your life.

It was this optimism that when your department head announced that they were hosting a “holiday” company dinner party you didn’t groan like some of your coworkers around you in the fact your time off might be interrupted for an evening. If anything you for some reason was a little excited at memorable moments that could be made at an event like this.

On the day of the dinner you spent a good amount of time getting ready. This was the first time your coworkers were going to see you dressed up and you wanted to impress.

You had bought this knee-length, tight baby blue dress. It was just the right amount of not too out there considering the occasion, and sexy with the small slit that came up your thigh and how the dress hugged your figure. The spaghetti straps and low cut of the neckline offered a little extra dash of spice to the outfit with the way it offered a tasteful amount of cleavage.

What were you hoping to accomplish wearing a dress like this to your company dinner? Absolutely nothing, you just wanted to feel good, look good, as you tried your best to enjoy yourself at the dinner party. Who knows, maybe there might be someone at this party you might catch the attention of.

You honestly didn’t think that would happen, all that might come out of a night like this would be having a little fun, taking advantage of the open bar, getting bored out of your mind, and maybe one interesting thing happens that you might still be talking about after the holidays are over. You certainly didn’t expect for the night to go the way it did.

You in fact did turn heads the minute you walked into the room, your face was burning as you saw the lingering eyes of your coworkers and the quiet whispers they probably didn’t expect for you to hear.

You thought that would be it for your moment of fame, another coworker would walk in and everyone’s eyes would be on them for the rest of the night. However, when you made it to where Ruby and Hoseok were sitting you were instantly overflowed with compliments from Ruby that had your face burning brighter than the sun and Hoseok… well, for a while your friend didn’t say a single word, as for quite some time he couldn’t stop staring at you.

You liked to think you knew your friend group well, you’ve been working together for nearly a year now, but the minute you were taken out of the work environment you saw a whole new side of Hoseok. He was your friend, yes a friend who made you gawk the first time you met him. He was handsome, kind, and was the source of joy that would get you through your workday.

He was your friend and your workplace crush— a crush you no doubt shared with a lot of your coworkers. You never considered acting on it, at least not until you felt a little more confident he felt the same way. As of now, you had no indication that he liked you, but apparently you weren’t completely off his radar like you had wondered. You managed to catch his attention and tonight was the night he wanted to let you know.

You, Hoseok, and Ruby were laughing one minute, the next thing you knew she was making up some excuse to talk with Jerry, literally the most boring guy ever (he one time talked both you and Ruby’s heads off about his excitement watching the paint dry on his fence), and that was the last you saw of your friend the entire night.

“So what now…?” You asked as you watched her scurry off.

“Mmmm, I think we can still have fun with just the two of us.” Hoseok smirked at you and you were a little taken aback by the way his voice changed. It instantly had flags going up in your mind. It had been a while since you were in this position, but for some reason you got the sense he was flirting with you.

“Oh really? What makes you think that?” You chuckled, turning your attention fully to the beautiful man in front of you.

For a little while he didn’t respond as his eyes continued to scan over your form. You were getting warmer than when you held the attention of almost everyone here.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I can’t get over this, you look absolutely amazing tonight.” He flashed you one of his signature charming smiles and suddenly you did not know how to act. It seemed your intuition was very correct.

You truly did not know your friend as well as you thought you did, because the entire night you found yourself taken aback, smitten, and blushing like a schoolgirl the minute he would just smile at you. He had turned up his flirt game all the way to a thousand.

While you undoubtedly had some type of feelings for him, you had this picture in your head that he was just the softest, most oblivious guy to the game you've ever met. At work, he can’t even take compliments without saying how amazing the entire team is. You even one time tried to shoot him a subtle flirty text to kinda see where you stood and if you had any chance whatsoever.

You [11:53pm]: Are you a triangle? Cause I think you’d be acute one ;)

Hobi <3 [8:24am] Idk, I see myself more as a oval tbh :p

To be fair that was not one of your greatest hits of all time, but that was definitely not the response you expected after spending all night tossing and turning thinking about what he might say in the morning, only to wake up to him calling himself an oval.

Since that day you never once pictured your friend being a flirt. You were definitely shocked to find out he was seemingly a very experienced flirt because this man had more game than any other guy you’ve ever talked to.

It only made you wonder, was he really as oblivious as you thought he was or…?

If you ever needed a bigger sign that your crush for your friend wasn’t as silly as you thought, Hoseok made sure to give you a bright neon one with a billion arrows pointing to the answer.

It was as if the dinner party wasn’t happening as the two of you chatted like you were on a date. The soft lighting of the candle set the mood as you both chatted away, completely ignoring your coworkers around you. It was like you were in your own little world, lost in each other’s eyes.

You both also made it to the dance floor eventually. Your arms were wrapped around his frame as you both slow danced to the soft band that was playing a jazzy rendition of Santa Baby.

To be honest, the night was a blur, everything happened so fast. One minute you both were drinking cocktails at the open bar, the next you were feeding each other pasta, dancing the night away, and way too soon for both of your likings, the dinner party was ending.

You were some of the last two people leaving.

Hoseok had draped his jacket across your shoulders as you both waited for an uber. You were smiling like an idiot because he offered to take you home and your mind was spiraling at the possibilities.

You hoped this was going the way you thought it was.

You thought briefly about the consequences of whatever was happening between you and Hoseok. Based on what you’ve heard from movies, books, along with your friends, relationships between coworkers never end well and make things extremely complicated in the workplace.

You were a little wary about pressing further, but the way he held you close as the chill November air blew over you both, and you reminisced about the night you shared, you figured you would worry about later. All you hoped was he would kiss you at least once tonight.

Once your uber pulled up, you got your answer. The minute you closed the door behind the both of you his hand was on your thigh and he kindly asked the driver to hurry.

Oh.

Suddenly you were hot all too quickly and the 15 minute ride to your place seemed like an eternity.

He didn’t make things any easier, his cool hand lightly stroked your warm thigh, inching up higher and higher as he calmly looked out the window at the city night life outside. You wanted to scream, moan, push his hand up further, but you focused on trying to stay as calm as you could until you made it to your apartment.

You felt like you were nearly about to lose your mind by the time you both were racing out the car and hurrying to the elevator.

You both hadn’t really said much to each other for a while, letting your actions speak louder than any words could but as you both made it to your front door suddenly the lingering questions needed to be answered.

You stood in front of your door and Hoseok cooly caged you into his arms, close, but not as close as you wanted him.

“I had a great time tonight~” He smiled down at you, his eyes fleeting down to your lips.

“Me too…” You wanted to say more, say how happy tonight has truly made you but the way he looked at you made anything more complex leave your brain.

“I was thinking… tonight doesn’t have to end just yet…” His voice was low and fuck, why wasn’t his lips on yours yet.

In a moment of clarity you jumped at the opportunity. You leaned forward to meet his ear.

“Only if your plans for the night end with you inside me.” It was bold and usually you were so. Hoseok’s charms were enough for you to forget all of your hot girl training.

When you pulled back you were satisfied to see a stunned look on his features before he chuckled darkly.

“Turn around, I need that door open baby.” It was a command that had you weak in the knees. You followed quickly, reaching into your little clutch for your keys.

Suddenly his hands were on your waist as he pressed himself into your ass. “That’s been my plan since you walked in.” He sighed and you felt it, just how much he wanted you.

You hastily pushed the key in the hole, turning the lock and leading the both of you inside.

Before you had time to realize what was happening, your back was against the door and his lips were on yours, so soft and so perfect as he cupped your cheek and pulled you close.

Your hands desperately came up to tug at his suit jacket, throwing it on the floor as quickly as you could before moving to pull at his tie. You both didn’t make it far, at least far enough to make it to your room. You both ended up leaving a trail of your clothes that led straight to your couch.

You hastily climbed on his lap, the moment of separation unbearable as you quickly went back to meet his lips. You relished in the moan he let out as you ground your hips down, eagerly searching for some type of friction.

You felt Hoseok’s hands run up your thighs before settling on your hips and he started lightly tugging on your panties. You were taken aback when you felt his hand slip past the fabric and started rubbing circles over your clit.

Your body instantly reacted, breaking the kiss, as you stared at him with pleading eyes.

“Fuck— Hoseok, please…” You sighed enjoying the pleasure his fingers were bringing you but you wanted more. It was only the minute his hands made it onto your skin did you realize how long it’s been since someone has touched you like this.

“Shit, you’re so wet already…” He marveled as he ran his fingers through your slick folds.

“Do you think you can take me now?” He asked, just as impatient as you were.

When he got here he thought he was going to be able to absolutely worship your body, but the minute his lips were on yours, suddenly all he could think about was how soon he could get his cock inside you.

You nodded but almost screamed when his fingers slipped inside.

“No teasing please, I need you n—“ You pleaded.

You felt so good around his fingers, he couldn’t wait any longer to finally feel you.

“Can you grab my wallet out of my pants? I have condoms in there…” He looked over where you had nearly torn them off trying to get them off of him.

You hurriedly did as he asked, finding his wallet thankfully quite quickly before you were back on his lap and handing it to him. It only took a second for him to find it and get it on, but that second felt like an entirety to you before you happily sank down onto him.

You both moaned together at the feeling. You kissed him hurriedly as you took a second to adjust. Your hands racked over his back, that pesky dress shirt in the way of feeling him completely, and into his dark brown hair.

“Please baby…” He moaned, begging for you to move.

You didn’t need him to tell you twice and you slowly started moving your hips to a steady rhythm that quickly had you throwing your head back.

“Shit, you feel so good.” Hoseok groaned, slapping your ass lightly.

Who knew this day would turn out to be this way? From a friend you had yet to meet outside of work to suddenly having his cock sending you to a new dimension. It was a great turn of events for you.

You only hoped that this wouldn’t be the end, that he might stay the night even, that he might ask you out on a date later. For now though you were happy with this, so so happy.

Before you knew it he was spilling inside you and he used his fingers to quickly push you over the edge as well.

You both were out of breath, your thighs burned but you couldn’t stop smiling down at him.

He sweetly kissed your nose before pecking your lips once more.

“So, what does this mean for us?” You asked curiously.

“That I have to see you again outside of work, and this time not at a company dinner.” He laughed and you joined in, your heart welling with joy.

“Only if that means we get to do this all over again.” You smirked.

He thought about it for a moment. “I think I can work that into our plans.”

“I’m excited~” You smiled.

“Mhmmm, but first you have to tell me where your room is so we can do this properly.” He chuckled.

Oh.

You pointed to the door that you were facing and before you even realized you were squealing as he picked up and carried off for even more fun.

You really didn’t know your friend it seems, but you were excited to see him in this new light. Who knows what else he might be hiding?

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intriq · 9 months

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✧ Fool’s Gold

contents: angst. more angst. themed around memory loss/erosion. enjoy <3

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You had been warned countless times by Zhongli that although he was no longer known as Morax in the lands of Liyue, that he was still an Archon.

You knew about the devastating effect erosion had, and how even if Zhongli had gained everlasting life, the effects could still greatly affect him.

You were quite close with Zhongli, or so you had always hoped. You would often have tea with him, listening to his stories of the past, and in exchange you would always bring up a story from your infrequent adventures.

You didn’t quite label yourself an adventurer, more so just someone who would wander place to place, but would always find yourself back at Liyue, with a item in tow for Zhongli. You weren’t quite sure when you’d found out he was Morax, or what the circumstances behind you finding out were, but you figured you probably just always kind of knew.

Over time you’d discovered that while Zhongli enjoyed the little trinkets and relics you’d found, he seemed to be more interested in trying the tea you’d once brought back from your Inazuma excursion before it’d closed down its ports, not allowing visitors in or out.

You’d recently gone on a lengthy trip to Natlan. Although the trip was only supposed to take at most a month, it had really taken you close to half a year to finish the trip and return. You’d managed to procure a unique blend of tea from Natlan, the seller claiming it was one of a kind.

You’d tried that sellers tea before during your trip, and they were indeed correct. Each cup you’d gotten every now and then did not have the same taste. So you purchased a decently sized amount for Zhongli, and had managed to get your hands on a rock from one of its now dormant volcanoes.

So here you were, briskly making your way to Third-Round Knockout, carefully cradling your gifts for Zhongli in one arm. You’d quite missed being able to talk with Zhongli, and were excited to hear more of his stories, and of course, for his reaction to your gifts.

Even though you knew Zhongli wouldn’t really have a vocal reaction, as him saying anything other than a low hum of approval was just imagination at work. You could only really rely on his body language and his facial expressions for how much he enjoyed your gifts.

You could imagine how even if he would seem unphased, you imagined that a small smile would tug at the corner of his lips, but only for a moment, and perhaps his eyes would light up and widen ever-so slightly.

Your pace quickens at the thought, eager to greet Zhongli.

You pause amidst the crowd, and a smile is beaming on your face before you know it when you see Zhongli sitting at the same table, listening to the storyteller tell tales of his time as an Archon, even if the tales were mostly half truth and greatly exaggerated.

You bound up the steps, and sit across from Zhongli, greeting him with a cheery grin as you place his gifts on the table.

“Apologies my trip took so long, Zhongli. I was expecting to be back within a months time.” You pause to gesture towards the box of tea leaves and the rock you’d gotten. “I hope my gifts make up for that.”

You wait a moment, and are left confused when you see Zhongli’s gaze rising to meet yours, an almost bewildered look on his face. Confusion flashes on his face, but only for a moment when his stoic look returns, setting the cup of tea in his hands back down. He clears his throat for a moment before speaking.

“Apologies, but may I inquire who you are?”

A sinking feeling fills your chest as he speaks those words. You blink a few times, feeling your heart hit the pit of your stomach.

“Zhongli, it surely hasn’t been that long. I understand if your upset for not keeping light of my promise to be back within that allotted time frame, but that was out of my control. I get that your a few eons old, but I doubt your memory is that foggy.” You laugh awkwardly, almost choking out the words as you hoped Zhongli was only joking with you.

But he only squints, still at a loss of how to react to you. And your heart almost stops, your ears ringing. “I apologize, but I really do not know what you are speaking of. Are you sure you are not mistaking me for someone else?”

You let out a shaky breath as you clench your fist for a moment, trying to think of how to react. “Do you… Really not remember?”

Zhongli shakes his head slowly, indicting he did not have a recollection of just who you were. Your mouth feels dry, your throat almost constricting itself as you take a moment to breath, before standing.

“I apologize.. Perhaps I have gotten the wrong person. Please, take these in return. I do hope I didn’t cause an inconvenience.” You almost struggle to say the words, pushing the box of tea leaves and the rock towards Zhongli gently before standing, briskly turning and walking away, tears stinging your eyes.

Zhongli stills, watching your silhouette depart, leaving him bewildered at the interaction as his gaze lowers to the box and the stone.

The feeling of familiarity he’d felt at your presence made him wonder if he knew you somehow. But yet he just could not remember. He opens the box, finding it filled with tea leaves that have a pleasant scent. He closes the box, and turns his gaze towards the rock, lifting it in his other hand, his other hand running over its surface with a curious and inquisitive nature.

His brows furrow as he tries to recall why you had seemed to be so upset at his inability to recognize just who you may have been, and he goes to pocket the stone, only to find other various small trinkets instead.

Small relics, he discovered, were in its place.

He almost feels like he’d forgotten something important. Perhaps the erosion that he knew of all too well, had taken something dire from him.

And it almost frustrates him.

#genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact #genshin imagines #zhongli #angst #zhongli angst #zhongli genshin impact

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deepseamuse · 1 year

Text

Some poems I’ve written over the past two years

The Fragile Geisha

I bump into the wooden bookshelf,

And instinctively grab

For the mug at its top, painted with

A scarlet-robed geisha.

The clattering of ceramic skin against oak

Fails to disturb her, and despite the danger

Her eyes remain closed,

Her expression calm.

The arrow she holds pointed towards

The floor that nearly destroyed her.

The same as the last night we drank,

Together,

Of green tea and the moon.

A cheap teapot had whistled, and as I ran,

The old wooden floor

Creaked in complaint.

Despite the chilly autumnal wind, the water

Seemed hotter than normal.

As if it wished to warm

The rest of the aging house as well.

I filled her mug to the brim,

A trickling stream

Scorching ceramic skin

As it mixed with powder and leaves.

And I waited for her to prepare the tea

Under the moon's light.

Deus Ex Machina

Whirring, Ticking

The ancient machine activates

Intent on granting

An old man's dying wish.

“Eternal Prosperity”

Would come at the cost of too many

For mankind to reach!

Set on a path that leads to

Self-destruction,

They’ve forgotten

His first wish, his reason

To bring the machine,

The mechanical god

To life long ago.

To bring a young girl

Who'd perished long ago

Back to her father's side.

Wishing for decades, he forgot

The face of the one who drove him;

If only he knew!

She'd never fallen, and returned

Changed, but alive.

If he would only look in her eyes

One final time,

He’d know his wish was granted...

Unexpected Downpour

I open my mouth, but not a word flows out.

What can I say? How can it be done right?

I’m just not sure.

One thousand words pour through my mind,

But which to choose? And what to ignore?

It’s all too much.

I close, leaving my torrential thoughts behind.

You’ll never know the words I cast aside.

Perhaps I should apologize,

For being too afraid of what could be

And whether you’d understand.

Or perhaps it’s better left unsaid.

The storm within my mind rages on,

And my lovely day is ruined by rain.

Star-Crossed Midnight

The clock ticks on,

Gears turning along,

As moonlight shines through the pane.

And there I sit,

Letting blankets shift,

As I enjoy the ending of day.

The blackened sky

Holds stars snuffed out by lights

From the streets so far below.

How I wish that I could see

That vast tapestry

Of glimmering sparks above;

Those eternal lights

Piercing through twilight

In the forest I once had called home.

But the cold, dark skies

Of this peaceful night

Are everything the city knows.

And as I rest,

It feels like the clock slows.

The Sakura Tree

A thousand flowers bloom,

But each will find their doom,

In one week, countless petals

That shall wilt far too soon.

Blossoms holding tiny lives

That will fade before my eyes,

And I wonder if this really is how

Things are meant to be.

Are all such beautiful things

Destined to merely fade away?

Only my memories keeping them

From disappearing into the gray?

If only I could hold them close

And keep each one alive;

Perhaps by my fervent wish

These blooms may yet cease to die.

But in a way, I suppose

There is a point to all this death;

It is in this fragile artistry

That these flowers are their best.

So I’ll let each life continue on

And someday disappear.

I’ll enjoy their fleeting grace and charm

Until they bloom again next year.

Impulsive Desire

When you’re seventeen, and in love

with that boy you hooked up with last month

who always smiles and laughs at your jokes

no matter how bad they are,

do you really get into

that cheap car your dad bought you

and drive over to that one kid

who says they’ll give you a tattoo?

Do you hand them a quick sketch,

and a couple of names,

and ask for your love to be memorialized

in blood and black ink?

You’re so smitten, at the moment,

you don’t even consider how

in a few years, you’ll be over him

and wishing the oath on your arm could be erased.

And sure, it could. But then

you’d have to think about it:

the words he’d said that night,

and how you’d thought you could devote yourself at seventeen.

History has a way of catching up

no matter what you do;

but such brazen, impulsive acts

keep it from having to move at all.

You fueled your fire with bloodstained ink.

Now, though it’s burnt out, the cinders always remain.

#poetry #writing #writeblr #Deus Ex Machina is based on Kirby Planet Robobot btw

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writelykeekee · 1 year

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The Writer, Me

Within the depths of my external hard drive, affectionately named Tara, awaits a folder entitled Scribbles. Should one open this folder, many others will be revealed, each with more folders and documents enveloped inside them. They all contain my creations: my poetry, short stories, and novels. All the relevant research I comb through for projects is tucked away in a Misc folder.

Back in the day (meaning the late 1990s to the early 2000s), I didn’t have a computer or laptop. I wouldn’t even get a Nokia Brick, my first phone, for a few more years. A plethora of notebooks, binders, and a variety of pens cluttered those years. Truly, it was chaos. It’s a wonder my mother never grabbed handfuls of it all to stuff in a barrel and burn.

My late cousin, Tabatha, was the one to ignite the passion for writing within me. She’d made the passing statement that I should write down the story I’d just finished telling her. Thus, I started my writing affair with the epic tales I was prone to telling. Knowingly running headfirst into a cliché, writing came as naturally to me as breathing.

It was the details that began to bog me down. I needed every last crumb to fall perfectly into place to feel satisfied with my stories. I needed to jot down every minuscule fragment of thought related to my writing lest it vanish into the void first. It was maddening, yet how could I stop?

As my interest in writing grew, I began reading more poetry volumes. The emotion and truth that went into the poems that I consumed were alluring and spoke to a deep need of my own. Having a history filled with trauma, I realized I could utilize poetry as an outlet. It was a way to pour out all the words my brain, heart, and soul needed to scream.

Poetry was my niche until I was almost out of high school. By then, I had begun dabbling in short stories and novellas. While I had successfully written multiple of each, none of them felt alive. None of them burned with that desire to be shared and devoured. None of them had that something that carried me from page to page without regard for the passing of time.

Over the years, many passion projects have come and gone. Some of them are cringy when I pull them from their cobwebbed compartments within the recesses of my mind while others fill me with regret and a longing for a completion that likely will never come. Of course, I keep them anyway. A writer should always keep their works no matter how cringy, dated, or atrocious they may seem. You never know when they can spontaneously become your next inspiration.

There are two main works that have encompassed the majority of my life as a writer. The first is a story for my mother, my beautiful and intelligent Mama Mattie. When I was in late middle to early high school a friend of mine gave me a stack of books that she no longer wanted. Among them was a book called Seven Tears Into the Sea by Terri Farley.

It’s an enchanting book about selkies, seal-folk who can shed their seal skins when they come onto land and become human. My mother loved this book immensely and wanted her own Selkie story. Thus, I began to research and write. Her selkie story, now with the working title of Torrential, has seen many transformations over the last 15 or so years but has never made it past the first chapter. Mama Mattie does her due diligence in reminding me that I still owe her a selkie story for the ages.

My second work is a story born of a dream, as most of my works find me. Another 15+ year project, it has been the most transformative work I’ll likely ever manage. Originally called Ensphere, the now-titled Shadowstrung trilogy is my all-encompassing passion project. It began as a simple story of fate, endurance, and companionship but evolved when I met my partner Galen and we discovered that the story he was working on seemed to fit together with mine rather elegantly.

Since then, we have gone rounds with this project. All the characters have been renamed countless times, their personalities tweaked, their relationships fine-tuned. The novel became a trilogy. Main characters faded into the background while supporting characters moved to the forefront. All these years later, only the bare bones of SST hold a resemblance to the original concepts of Ensphere.

In early 2022, I made an incredibly difficult decision to put both of these projects down. After 15ish years with little legitimate progress, I felt like I needed something fresh. I needed to see what lay beyond the boundaries of these stories in which I had so deeply burrowed. I spent the rest of the year compiling all of my notes for each so that when I return to them, it will all still make sense.

For the month of Dec 2022, I considered what type of stories I would like to write and I came up with 3 to work on over the next few years. My current work-in-progress is named A Hiss of Sparks. It has been unbelievably arduous to step into this new concept, to stay focused on something ultimately foreign to my mind. I also deal with Autism, ADHD, mental illness, and chronic pain, none of which help the creative process.

Here we find ourselves in May 2023, and I am no closer to having an organized concept of what to write for any of my 3 new projects than I did when they were conceived five months ago. Innately a pantser, I’ve even begun dabbling with plotting and structure to help me to organize. While so far it has been to no avail, I have faith that something will click into place. Until then, I will simply have to try and try again.

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patchesproblem · 1 year

Text

Several hours later and I have finally finished this hellish thing. Welcome to the hell of my own creation.

Anyways I'm back with more lesbian scientists being smart yet incredibly stupid. This time with how they got together. Kinda angsty but not really?? Idk it's just sad for a part because they both want to disappear.

AO3 Link : Click Here

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December 12th, 19XX

It's certainly been awhile since I have used you, old friend. I hope you don't mind me coming to you for help once again. Things have been troubling me lately, and I do not feel comfortable discussing it with anyone, including Tesla.

Dr. Tesla has been away for around six hours, though it would be more accurately described as days. Work has kept her extremely busy and exhausted. As a result, there have barely been any moments where we have talked with each other than a quick 'goodbye' or 'goodnight' if we lay down at the same time...

---------

Einstein sat silently at her desk. A journal was laid there, waiting for her to open it. Years worth of wear and tear were obvious. What it was originally supposed to look like had long since been muddied, leaving zero trace of its life before. Only thing remaining was her name on the inside of the cover, an old message from Karl, along with various entries she'd written over the years.

She stared at the cover with sadness. It was one of the few things she took before leaving Lab 42 that fateful night, with faint memories of that day still lingering with it. Carefully turning the pages she glanced over several old passages, ranging from when she was a child all the way up until she met Tesla.

Glancing over one of the last entries she let out a soft laugh.

'This girl, Nikola I think her name was, has absolutely zero regard for her own safety. I'm truthfully surprised that she has made it this far without getting into serious trouble, or worse. I worry for anyone paired up with her within the coming weeks.'

Sometimes the way things change, yet stay the same, amazes her.

---------

I never thought I'd be forced to admit it, but I miss her deeply. Life has never felt so dull without her constant presence. Her energetic and eccentric personality that once kept me on my toes has been reduced to a shell of it's former self. It feels as if she's almost never home anymore.

These past few weeks have forced me to acknowledge things I once believed I would never have to face.

I believed I would be able to push all of this down and never think of it again. Things would be better that way, however I now realize the true reason for it was fear and denial...

---------

Flipping through eventually led her to the last entry before the pages went blank.

'Professor Planck insisted that I work with Nikola. We had not started working for five minutes before she called me 'mophead'. I should be offended, though I'm not sure I mind it. There's something about her that I can't quite figure out. One thing for certain is she's incredibly talented at what she does. Perhaps this could turn out better than I originally anticipated. That is if she doesn't get herself, or me, killed first.'

A chuckle escaped, "Nikola you really are the same girl I fell in love with all those years ago."

Turning to a new page she just began staring at it. An anxious feeling over whelmed her, and she debated whether this was a good idea. After a minute, and some hesitation, she reached for her pen.

Something had been bothering her for days, though if she were honest it was had been bothering her for years. Feelings that were pushed down in an attempt to continue the status quo. They wanted to desperately come out, and it was eating her alive and distracting her.

It led to her looking for this journal. After digging through her nightstand for it, she brought it into their office.

---------

Fear of losing everything we've worked hard for over the years. All of the sacrifices we've made over the years, the countless people who sacrificed themselves to help move forward, the sleepless nights we've had, all of it.

Most of all, I'm afraid of losing her. The fear of losing her, not knowing what she'd say or do afterwards, it's worse than the fear of Anti-Entropy falling apart at it's seams. Without her none of it matters. There's not an Anti-Entropy without her.

Tesla has been one of the only people who has been there since the beginning. All of the memories we made together, the mischief we got up to, all of it. Even after everything that's happened we are still by each others side. Throughout all the arguments, frustration trying to figure out where to go next, none of it was able to pull us away.

As pathetic as it is to say, she's the reason I keep going forward. Every time she starts going on about a new interest, a new idea for an experiment, her wanting to spend time together, even her questionable temper, all of it reminds me why we're still here and why we need to continue forward.

Why I'm still here. Why I need to continue going...

---------

She began writing. Although it would look like nothing but mathematical nonsense for an experiment, to her and Tesla it made complete sense. They had originally created it to pass notes back and forth undetected, which eventually resulted in them using it to talk with each other in front of others without them knowing.

Ultimately she did this in an attempt to make others not understand it, and assume she simply needed scratch paper should it be found. As for Tesla, she was already aware of her journal and knew she hadn't used it in years. If she put it back before she got home there was a high chance she'd never even know. Besides that, they promised each other not to lie to the other and keep secrets.

They both were aware of the irony of their promises to each other.

Starting was a struggle. Embarrassment, confusion, all of it made it difficult to get a word down.

---------

Every moment we've spent together will forever stick with me. Even the times where everything backfired. The moments where we just sat there staring at the sky. The mischief we caused around Schicksal, recruiting Joachim to play pranks on others. I'll cherish these forever.

Even the moments when we were both tired and exhausted. The several times she's come home and just fallen asleep on me while I worked. Having to remind her to eat after procrastinating until the last possible second and locking herself up in our office. Her having to snap me out of it whenever I do the exact same thing.

Staying up all night talking and joking with each other, discussing plans for when we were off, brushing her hair after she gets so frustrated I worry for the brush's well being, they seem so menial in the grand scheme of things but they're what's most important to me...

---------

After an hour, Tesla opened the front door. She glanced around noticing how quiet it was. Slightly frowning, she threw her purse on a table and went towards their room. Not in here.

"Maybe she's working," she mumbled walking towards their office. Glancing around the corner she saw the girls blue disaster she called her hair. She stood in the doorway for a second. After a minute of either Einstein not noticing her, or just ignoring her again, Tesla walked in and pulled her chair next to her.

Sitting down, she laid her head on her shoulder closing her eyes, "Hey mophead."

"Hey, Tes," the girl responded, fear running through her mind as she debated what to do. "Work go okay?"

The girl next to her angrily made a noise before mumbling, "Every day god keeps testing my patience I get closer and closer to killing someone."

Einstein chuckled, patting her on her head. "On the bright side we're off for the next few days, maybe god will have mercy on your nonexistent patience."

Annoyed mumbling was barely audible. She smiled softly, just staring at the ball of anger and annoyance laying on her.

After a few minutes of silence Tes raised her head. "What are you even doing in here-" pausing to fix her glasses, "-you're normally getting ready for bed by now."

Einstein began reaching for the notebook, "I was reading earlier and wanted to jot down some notes to pass the time. It is quite boring here while you're gone."

She seemed to accept the answer, looking down towards the book curiously. Glancing over the pages, she began yawning. "Eins, are you almost ready to go to be-"

Einstein glanced over at her, confused as to why she went silent.

---------

I doubt I will ever bring any of this up to her, whether it be out of cowardice or fear.

Logically, considering our circumstances and past experiences, there's around a 95% chance that nothing bad will happen. However, that five percent risk is not worth it to me.

We almost complete each other in a strange sense. Complementing each others personalities in a way I can not describe.

I truly love and admire her. If I have to live for the rest of eternity there's nobody else I'd rather have by my side..

---------

The redhead stayed silent, unable to process what she was reading. It was at that moment Einstein realized how she might've just fucked up. Neither spoke.

Eventually Tesla looked at her, barely able to even make eye contact. Words struggled to even come out. "Li-li-liserel I.. we need to talk."

"Tesla I-" Before she could say anything the other girl had already ran out, nearly tripping over herself.

She stared out the empty door. Her chest hurt, she blinked tears away trying to calm down.

'Dear Lieserl,

Although I am aware you don't believe in running off of emotions, there are certain situations that can not be solved through physics or logic. That's part of the reason I am gifting you this before I go back to Berlin.

You're probably annoyed reading this, and thinking 'This old man sounds like those psychologists,' but life's not always black and white. I trust that Emma will take care of you, though she can be overbearing at times. However, if things ever become to much for you to handle and you feel alone, try to write it all down within here. It sounds silly, but sometimes putting your feelings out there will help you figure out a solution to things. You may not understand this now, however I believe over time when you begin to meet more people and gain experiences you will understand.

Whenever I return we can sit down and discuss it together. Treat this as your way of talking to me and remembering important details you want to share.

I'm unsure of when I'll be able to return, but I will certainly try to make it soon. I'm extremely proud of you, and I can't wait to see what you end up accomplishing in your life.

PS. If you ever have a moment I would love it if you could send me letters about how you're progressing in your studies. Tell Emma I said hi for me as well.

From the 'slightly less annoying old man,'

Karl.'

Thirty minutes had passed with Einstein pacing laps around their office. Thoughts raced through her mind, and she dreaded leaving their office to find her.

'How am I supposed to face her. Is this the end.'

Tears streamed down her face, all she wanted to do was disappear into thin air.

---------

Tesla was sat in their room, holding the picture from her nightstand. Her mind was racing, confusion, embarrassment, fear, and exhaustion all came together to make her over think and panic.

Stress from the situation caused her to zone out, not even acknowledging nor noticing anything else around her.

Einstein eventually forced herself to leave their office, if only because she was worried about Tes. Wiping her face, she took a deep breathe and looked around the corner to see her sat on their bed. Her hair was a mess, and it had been clear she'd been crying.

Hesitantly she began walking towards the end of the bed and sat down, the other girl never even noticing her there. Reaching over, she tapped her shoulder causing her to jump.

"Tesla I'm so sorry for scaring you.. I" She paused, unable to look at her as she stared at her silently. "Nikola I'm sorry, I never expected you to see any of that and I.."

Interrupting her, the girl forced herself to speak. "Please stop talking you dumbass.."

Caught off guard, she sat silent for a minute. Eventually, Einstein stood up, "I'm sorry.. Look, I'll go stay with Joa-"

"That's not what I meant, Einstein. Stay here Lieserl.." it went silent, until she barely whispered "please.."

For once Einstein was the one left confused on what the other was thinking. Her facial expression couldn't be read like normal, though it was partly because strands of hair had covered some of it.

"We need to talk about this... We should've had this conversation years ago." She sat the picture of the two back beside her, looking at the other girl.

She sat back down, anxiously messing with her jacket. "Tes how much of that did you see.."

"All of it.." she said softly.

"I should've told you this a long time ago, Tes."

They sat silently, unsure of where to go from there.

"Look Tes, I've loved you for a long time. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't feel like this-"

"Are you stupid, mophead.. Why are you sorry." she paused, looking down embarrassed, about to cry, and mumbled "I've felt the same for a long time.. I never expected you actually felt the same."

Einstein sat there, unsure of what to say. "What does this mean then.."

".. I don't know."

"Well.." standing up she walked to Tesla and held her hand out, awkwardly. ".. Will you be my girlfriend, Tes?"

Tesla hesitated before reaching out for her hand, "And you say I'm bad at social interactions.. Here you are making things awkward."

"This is different, you can't even order at a drive through without becoming an awkward mess."

"I hate you."

Einstein chuckled, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes."

The girl bent over and kissed the other on her forehead, before letting go and standing back up. "Go get ready for bed, we should've been asleep over an hour ago. I'm tired." She said casually.

“You’re the reason we’re still up. You better let me sleep in tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, we already had plans remember.” She teased, tapping her nose, “You promised me you’d let me drag you out of the lab and go look at the museums tomorrow.”

“Is it too late to break up.” Tesla said smiling and rolling her eyes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Tes.”

---------

December 15th, 19XX

Although I ultimately regret how everything happened, I am glad it happened. We're happier than we've been in years, and it shows. Life seems brighter than before.

Joachim is scared that we've lost our sanity. While he is partially correct, I'm more likely to believe Tesla's excitement and joy has scared him. We haven't mentioned it to him or anyone else as of now. We won't hide it, but it doesn't matter to us whether or not people know.

I don't know what the future holds, what I do know is that we'll get through whatever it has in store for us.

~ Lieserl Albert Einstein

#tesla #einstein #einsla #honkai impact 3rd #fanfic #patches rambles #I worked hours on this and I'm on the verge of death.#2022 posts #nikolas posts

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wiw3 · 2 years

Text

Punch Up and Axiomatic Racism

I know I probably haven’t said anything here in a while. I mostly update this when my brain is sputtering with thoughts and needs an outlet. Right now might very well be one of those turbulent times. As I type here, I can feel my brain slowly untangling itself and realizing that it has to be a person because it’s going to be in front of people.

Thoughts flush their ways out that way, it’s a good way to be. I’ve found what works for me. I suppose it’s a strange way of trying to hold myself more accountable for the type of person that I’ve been in my already-21 years of life.

Being 21 is an absolute drag for a handful of reasons, but they all draw back to careers and myself. Though I know what I have to do in order to push past that. I know the work that needs to be done, and I know that I’m capable of it, and if I’m not, I’m capable of improving myself until I am.

I’m a writer, at my core. I don’t care what happens to me as a result of it, as a consequence of it, but I want to bite off more than I can chew. I want to learn the hard way and be taught lessons about what I want to do through trial and error. I want to be a showrunner, and America’s youngest at that.

That’s a record I hope to grab from MacFarlane, as much as I love adult animation and the movement that he absolutely started with his hit, “Family Guy”, I want to take that record, badly, with MacFarlane being a showrunner at 24.

I have something, or a few things, that I think would be worth seeing. I’ve been told over and over countless times that if “this show” or “that show” could get greenlit, then I definitely could. That’s condescending because I know for a fact what I have is better than that. Likeable, relatable people will always be the crux of what makes good TV, and operating within those constraints is how we, as writers, try to make you happy.

I’m doing punch up on a script that I wrote the first draft of last night. It took a lot out of me to finish, but I do not suffer from writer’s block. It takes me time to create characters, plot, a proper skeleton, and to flesh it out, but when I have, you have a cohesive narrative that plays by its own rules and has fun with likeable characters who love each other.

Now you look at me and tell me that since “this terrible show” got greenlit, that surely I could make it if I tried. I want to eat, sleep, and breathe realism, people who are nice, but flawed, ones you can trust to be flawed, and ones you can laugh at... That’s all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m willing to learn, say, or do anything to make that a reality.

You’re probably wondering about the Axiomatic Racism part, aren’t you? That’s okay, it’s a puzzle, and I was an asshole for not even mentioning it up higher. Racism has become an interesting beast in the last couple of years especially, with tensions and flareups at an all time high around the U.S.

It’s times like these where I love scrolling through and seeing videos of altruism between races, whether it’s white people being generous to black people, black people being generous to asian people, or what have you. I just love seeing videos of love. This will make sense, if it doesn’t already.

I saw one of those of a man selling socks, and to keep a long story short, this kindhearted person of color donates an entire cluster of like, six or seven sets of baby socks to this white guy after he learns that the guy has a young daughter.

At one point, when he’s thanked, the sock-salesman bellows out “Glory to God!” in a really triumphant way that I remember actually took the wind out of me when I watched it. I felt my white guilt creeping in, but I realized that it was better to be proactive, to stomp on that and say “I’m going to do something good because it’s the right thing to do, not because of systemic oppression.” and I started scrolling through the comments, and I just see this person spouting off nonsense about how the socks were stolen with no proof.

I don’t know how disgusting, baseless accusations like that get thrown around every day with nothing backing them up, but people being wrong and loud has always been a problem in this country. If we think we’re going to fix that in this lifetime, we’ve got another thing coming.

You know, I didn’t even feel angry in that moment, sure, I was angrily typing, but I think I felt pity more than anything. I pitied this guy for his ability to just turn it all off as far as race-relations go, to comment something atrocious on a video of a man providing for another man’s daughter with no strings and a smile on his face.

If you could hear the way he proclaims “Glory to God!” in that sweet voice he has, it’d probably melt away your problems for the rest of the day, just thinking about it. I realize I’m probably not the best person in the world for debating people anonymously online, but when baseless accusations are thrown around, I see that as someone breaking the rules of society, and I really don’t like people who break the rules.

#writing #blog post #racism #debate #punch up #script #screenwriting #creative writing #systemic oppression #systemic abuse #race #love #god

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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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pumpkinpaix · 3 years

Text

mdzs fandom, diaspora, and cultural exchange

Hey everyone. This post contains a statement that’s been posted to my twitter, but was a collaborative effort between several diaspora fans over the last few weeks. Some of the specifics are part of a twitter-localized discourse, but the general sentiments and issues raised are applicable across the board, including here on tumblr.

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve probably seen a few of my posts about this fandom, cultural exchange, and diasporic identity. For example, here, here, and here. This statement more directly criticizes some of the general issues I and others have raised in the past, and also hopefully provides a little more insight into where those issues come from. I would be happy if people took the time to read and reblog this, as the thought that went into it is not trivial, and neither is the subject matter. Thank you.

Introduction

Hello. I'm a member of a Chinese diaspora discord server - I volunteered to try and compile a thread of some thoughts regarding our place and roles in the fandom expressed in some of our recent discussions. This was primarily drafted by me and reviewed/edited by others with the hopes that we can share a cohesive statement on our honest feelings instead of repeatedly sharing multiple, fragmented versions of similar threads in isolation.

This was compiled by one group of diaspora and cannot be taken to represent diaspora as a whole, but we hope that our input can be considered with compassion and understanding of such.

For context, we are referencing two connected instances: the conflict described in these two threads (here and here), and when @/jelenedra tweeted about giving Jewish practices to the Lans. Regarding the latter, we felt that it tread into the territory of cultural erasure, and that it came from a person who had already disrespected diaspora’s work and input.

Context

The Lans have their own religious and cultural practices, rooted both in the cultural history of China and the genre of xianxia. Superimposing a different religious practice onto the Lans amidst other researched, canonical or culturally accurate details felt as if something important of ours was being overwritten for another’s personal satisfaction. Because canon is so intrinsically tied to real cultural, historical, and religious practices, replacing those practices in a canon setting fic feels like erasure. While MDZS is a fantasy novel, the religious practices contained therein are not. This was uncomfortable for many of us, and we wanted to point it out and have it resolved amicably. We were hoping for a discussion or exchange as there are many parallels and points of relation between Chinese and Jewish cultures, but that did not turn out quite as expected.

What happened next felt like a long game of outrage telephone that resulted in a confusion of issues that deflected responsibility, distracted from the origin of the conflict, and swept our concern under the rug.

Specifically, we are concerned about how these two incidents are part of what we feel is a repeated, widespread pattern of the devaluing of Chinese fans’ work and concerns within this fandom. This recent round of discourse is just one of many instances where we have found ourselves in a position of feeling spoken over within a space that is nominally ours. Regardless of what the telephone game was actually about, the way it played out revealed something about how issues are prioritized.

Background

MDZS is one of the first and largest franchises of cmedia that has become popular and easily accessible outside of China. Moreover, it’s a piece of queer Chinese media that is easily accessible to those of us overseas. For many non-Chinese fans, this is the first piece of cmedia they have connected with, and it’s serving as their introduction to a culture previously opaque to them. What perhaps is less obvious is that for many Chinese diaspora fans, this is also the first piece of cmedia THEY have connected with, found community with, seen themselves in.

Many, many of us have a fraught relationship with our heritage, our language—we often suffer from a sense of alienation, both from our families and from our surrounding peers. For our families, our command of the language and culture is often considered superficial, clunky, childish. Often, connecting with our culture is framed as a mandatory academic duty, and such an approach often fosters resentment towards our own heritage. For our non-Chinese peers, our culture is seen as exotic and strange and other, something shiny and interesting to observe, while we, trapped in the middle, find ourselves uprooted and adrift.

MDZS holds an incredibly important place in many diaspora’s hearts. Speaking for myself, this is literally the first time in my life I have felt motivated and excited about my own native tongue. It's the first time I have felt genuine hope that I might one day be able to speak and read it without fear and self-doubt. It is also the first time that so many people have expressed interest in learning from me, in hearing my thoughts and opinions about my culture.

This past year and a half in fandom has been an incredible experience. I know that I am not alone in this. So many diaspora I have spoken to just in the last week have expressed similar sentiments about the place MDZS holds in their lives. It is a precious thing to us, both because we love the story itself, and because it represents a lifeline to a heritage that’s never felt fully ours to grasp.

It’s wonderful to feel like we are able to welcome our friends into our home and show them all these things that have been so formative to our identities, and to be received with such enthusiasm and interest. Introducing this to non-Chinese friends and fans has also been an opportunity to bridge gaps and be humanized in a way that has been especially important in a year where yellow peril fear mongering has been at an all-time high.

History

However, MDZS’ rise in popularity among non-Chinese audiences has also come with certain difficulties. It is natural to want to take a story you love and make it your own: that’s what transformative fandom is all about. It is also natural that misunderstandings and unintentional missteps might happen when you aren’t familiar with the ins and outs of the culture and political history of the story in question. This is understandable and forgivable—perfection is impossible, even for ourselves.

We hope for consideration and respect when we give our knowledge freely and when we raise the issue of our own discomfort with certain statements or actions regarding our culture. Please remember that what is an isolated incident to you might be a pattern of growing microaggressions to us. In non-Asian spaces, Asian diaspora are often lumped together under one umbrella. In the west, a lot of Chinese diaspora attach themselves to Korean and Japanese media in order to feel some semblance of connection to a media which approximates our cultures because there are cultural similarities. This is the first time we've collectively found community around something that is actually ours, so the specificities matter.

There is a bitterness about being Asian diaspora and a misery in having to put up a united front about racial issues. Enmity towards one group becomes a danger to all of us, all while our own conflicted histories with one another continue to pass trauma down through the generations. Many of us don’t even watch anime in front of our grandparents because of that lingering cultural antipathy. When the distinctions between our cultures are muddled, it feels once again like that very fraught history is flattened and forgotten.

Without the lived experience of it, it’s hard to understand how pervasive the contradictory web of anti-Asian and, more specifically, anti-Chinese racial aggressions are and how insidious its effects are. The conflation of China the political entity (as perceived and presented by the US and Europe) with its people, culture, and diaspora results in an exhausting litany of criticism levied like a bludgeon, often by people who don’t understand the complicated nature of a situation against those of us who do.

There is often a frankly stunning lack of self-awareness re: cultural biases and blind spots when it comes to discussions of MDZS, particularly moral ones. There are countless righteous claims and hot takes on certain aspects of the story, its author, and the characters that are so clearly rooted in a Euroamerican political and moral framework that does not reflect Chinese cultural realities and experiences. Some of these takes have become so widespread they are essentially accepted as fanon.

This is a pattern of behavior within the fandom. It is not limited to any specific group, nor does it even exclude ourselves—we are, after all, not a monolith, and we should not be placed on pedestals to have our differing opinions weaponized against one another in fandom squabbles. We are not flawless in our own understandings and approaches, and we would appreciate it if others would remember this before using any of us as ultimate authorities to settle a personal score.

It is difficult not to be disheartened when enthusiastic interest crosses the line into entitled demand and when transformative work crosses into erasure, especially when the reactions to our raised concerns have so frequently been dismissive and hostile. The overwhelming cultural and emotional labor we bring to the table is often taken advantage of and then criticized in bad faith. We are bombarded with racist aggressions, micro and macro, and then met with ridicule and annoyance when we push back. Worse, we sometimes face accusations of hostility that force us to apologize, back down, and let the matter go.

When we bring up our issues, it usually seems to come with the expectation that there are other issues that should be addressed before we can address ours. It feels like it’s never really the time to talk about Asian issues.

On the internet and in fandom spaces, Western-coded media, politics and perspectives are assumed to be general knowledge and experience that everyone knows and has. It feels like a double standard that we are expected to know the ins and outs of western politics and to engage on these terms, but most non-Chinese have not even the slightest grasp of the sort of politics that are at play within our communities. We end up feeling used for our specialized knowledge and cultural background and then dismissed when our opinions and problems are inconvenient.

As the culture represented in MDZS is not a culture that most non-Chinese fans are familiar with, we’d like to remind you that you do not get to decide which parts of it are or are not important. While sharing this space with Chinese diaspora who have a close connection to the work and the painful history that goes along with being diaspora, we ask that you be mindful of listening to our concerns.

Cultural erasure is tied to a lot of intense historical and generational trauma for us that maybe isn't immediately evident: the horrors of the Pacific theatre, the far-reaching consequences of colonization, racial tensions both among ourselves and with non-Chinese etc. These are not minor or simple things, and when we talk about our issues within fandom, this is often what underlies them. This is one of the first and only places many of us have been able to find community to discuss our unique issues without feeling as if we’re speaking out of turn.

With the HK protests, COVID, the anti-Chinese platforms of the US election etc., anti-Chinese sentiment has been at the forefront of the global news cycle for some time now, and it is with complete sincerity that we emphasize once again how important MDZS fandom has been as a haven for humanizing and valuing Chinese people through cultural exchange.

Experiencing racial aggression within that space stings, not just because it’s a space we love, but because it feels like we’ve been swimming in rapidly rising racial aggression for over a year at this point.

Feelings

This is a difficult topic to broach at the best of times, and these are not the best of times. Many of us have a wariness of rocking the boat instilled in us from our upbringings, and it is not uncommon for us to feel like we should be grateful that people want to engage with something of ours at all. When we do decide to speak up, we’ve learned that there is a not insignificant chance that we’ll be turned on and trampled over because what we’ve said is inconvenient or uncomfortable. When it is already so difficult to speak up, we end up second-guessing and gaslighting ourselves into wondering whether there really was a problem at all.

We’d like to be able to share what we know about our culture and have our knowledge and experience be taken seriously and treated with courtesy. This is a beautiful, rich world built with the history of our ancestors, one that we too are trying to connect with. When we find it in ourselves to speak up about it, we would appreciate being met with consideration instead of hostility.

We don't have the luxury of stepping away from our culture when we get tired of it. We don't get to put it down and walk away when it’s difficult. But if you're not Chinese or Chinese diaspora, you get to put this book down—we'd like to kindly request that you put it down gently because of how much it matters to all of us in this fandom, regardless of heritage.

What we are asking for is reflection and thoughtfulness as we continue to engage with this work and with one another, especially with regards to how Chinese issues are positioned. When we raise issues of our own discomfort, please take a moment to reflect before reacting defensively or trying to shut us down for spoiling the fun—don’t deprioritize our concerns, especially in a fandom for a piece of Chinese media. We promise most of us are not trying to start shit for the sake of a fight. Most of the time, all we want is acknowledgement and a genuine attempt at understanding.

Our hope with this statement is to encourage more openness and understanding between diaspora and non-Chinese fans while we navigate this place that we’re sharing. Please remember that for many of us, MDZS is far more intense than a typical fandom experience. Remember that the knowledge we have and research we do is freely and happily given, and that it costs us both materially and emotionally. Please don’t take that for granted. Remember too that sometimes the reason for our discomfort may not be immediately evident to you: what seems culturally neutral and harmless might touch upon specific loaded issues for us. We ask for patience, and we ask for sincerity as we try to communicate with one another.

We are writing this because there’s a collective sense of imposed silence—that every time the newest round of discourse crops up, we often feel as if we’re walking away having created no meaningful change, and nursing new wounds that we’ll never get to address. But without speaking up about it, this is a cycle that will keep repeating.

This is not meant to shame or guilt the fandom into throwing themselves at our feet, either to thank us or beg for forgiveness—far from that. We’re just your friends and your fellow fans. We are happy to have you here, and we’re happy to create and share and play together. We just ask to be respected and heard.

Thank you. Thank you for listening. Several of us will be stepping back from twitter for a while. We’ll see you when we get back. ❤️

* A final addendum: here are two articles with solid practical advice on writing stories regarding a culture other than your own.

Cultural Appropriation for the Worried Writer: Some Practical Advice

Cultural Appropriation: Some More Practical Advice

The thread on twitter is linked in the source of this post. Thanks everyone.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #the untamed #the untamed meta #cql #asian diaspora #chinese diaspora #race #racism #mine #mymeta #once again my tag failing me because this is a collaborative work #but! for the sake of organization #statistically average #cultural appropriation #cultural erasure #what else do i tag this im so wired

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yourtamaki · 3 years

Text

the broken melody of us

matsukawa x f!reader

word count: 4k

request: mattsun hurt/comfort + neglect?

warnings: hurt/comfort, neglect, body worship, praise kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming

it was a song and dance at this point. a well rehearsed play with a blinding spotlight on the exhausted actors onstage. both of you go through the motions, no life behind the words you’ve spoken so many times they held no meaning anymore. you don’t know why you keep up the charade. you never expect a different result yet still you pick up the phone everyday and call your boyfriend.

“you think you’ll be home in time for dinner?”

sometimes you get a different, automated message. “maybe. might have to stay late,” or “can’t, i’ve gotta finish something up,” or your least favourite. a simple, clipped, “no.”

“don’t stay out too late.” you should cut this part from the script, he never listens.

“i’ll try.”

“i love you.” this line is always to be spoken quietly, followed by holding your breath while you wait for his response. it’s the only reason you make these calls. this is your only chance to hear him say it and pretend he means it as much as he once did.

“love you too.” the line goes dead, the lights dim and he’s gone. you’re alone on an empty stage staring out at a bored audience. bored of the foolish protagonist who keeps them locked in the theatre, playing the same ending over and over and expecting something to give, to change. they watch on, silent and judging while you barter away what little dignity you have left.

let them watch.

the rejection doesn’t sting as badly as it used to. you’ve learned to bear it, swallow down the hurt that sits like a stone in your gut and go about your day, filling it with any meaningless errand that would stop your mind from wandering back to him.

mattsun was subtle, you could give him that much. the way he slowly pulled away from your arms until you could hardly remember how he felt beneath your palms. the realization that you don’t really know your boyfriend anymore was slow to hit you but it knocked the air out of your lungs when it did. it crashed down on you when you woke in the middle of the night and turned to stare at his back gently rising and falling with every breath. his hair is longer then you remember and you don’t know why the thought has a lump forming in your throat. you focus instead on the broad expanse of his back. he’s tense, even in sleep, shoulders rigid and you’re sure if you could see his face, his brows would be furrowed. subtle changes that are enough for you to realize you’ve been shut out of his life.

you used to know him. when you were university kids who thought the future would never catch up to them and spent countless days in each other’s company. it wasn’t so much you knew him, it felt like you were him. and he was you. less attached to the hip and more intertwined with one another. you two were of one mind, to the point where you knew what the other needed before they’d even say it.

your mattsun who was always just a text away.

your mattsun who would indulge your late night drives, who would look at you with a permanent crooked smile on his face and love in his eyes.

“you think we’ll always be like this?” you said one night, straddling him in panties and a baggy hoodie in the backseat and lazily kissing beneath the stars. and because he was yours and understood every little anxious thought that crossed your mind, he didn’t question why you were asking, didn’t make you explain what you meant, didn’t try to make a half assed joke about it.

his hands trailed up your sides as he contemplated his answer, sending shivers up your spine. “probably not. things always change. we’ll change with them.”

“what if things get worse?”

“they might. but what if they get better? just cause it’s different doesn’t mean it's scary, angel.”

“i know. but i hate thinking about it cause things are so good right now. i want it to last forever.”

“we got time. let’s make the most of it, yeah?” he gripped your hips, slowly grinding you against his growing bulge and pulling you back into a kiss, sighing as your lips slotted together. you took control of the pace and grinned against him when a groan spilled into your mouth.

“is that your way of saying we should hurry up and fuck?”

“it’s working, isn’t it?” before you could pull your sweater up over your head, he cupped your face and brought your forehead to his, sincerity shining through his dark eyes. “i’ll always love you. that’ll never change. got it?”

“got it.” you managed to push the words out despite the lump that formed in your throat. he kept his eyes locked on yours as he slid your panties to the side and sank inside you, the familiar stretch a welcome one.

it was nothing special, one night of many spent panting into each other’s mouths with an unspoken promise still hanging from your lips. but it was a memory you circled back to often, so often you could hear the echo of his vow ring through your head.

your fears came to pass not long after that. life caught up and tore him from you, leaving you a shattered mess in the aftermath. you tried to fit jagged pieces of yourself back together in an attempt to remake the person you used to be but what stared back at you only left you keenly aware of the empty space he used to reside.

these days, you like going to the roof of your apartment and letting the wind blow through those countless gaps in your soul. you feel whole for a short while as it whistles through you, the air filled with the broken melody of you, of the relationship that slips past your grasp more everyday. it’s shrill and ear piercing and leaves goosebumps littered on your skin.

you can’t stop listening to it.

it’s where you were now, staring out as the sun dipped below the horizon and listening to the haunting sound that’s been your only company in recent memory. later, you’ll go home and crawl into bed desperate for any warmth and no time to miss the heat of a body next to yours. your phone lights up bright in contrast to the darkening sky and it takes you a few moments of staring blankly at the screen for it to sink in that mattsun is trying to call you.

this isn’t part of the script.

you don’t know your lines.

and yet you find yourself answering anyway, hitting the green button before the call drops and you raise your phone to your ear silently.

“are you okay?” his voice comes out rushed and strung together almost before your phone is pressed to your ear.

“why’re you asking?”

“remember that time you failed that essay? i think it was third year and you hid in your room all day and wouldn’t answer the phone?” you did remember. how you couldn’t bear to face the world that day with the crushing weight of failure hanging over you and how shocked you were to see mattsun standing at the front door. “did i ever tell you why i checked up on you?”

“no.”

“the whole day i felt, in my gut, like i needed to see you. i can’t describe it, it was like a stab that just dug deeper until i went to your place. would you believe me if i said i have that feeling right now?”

“i- i would.” you say quietly, wondering if he could even hear you over the roar of the wind.

“are you okay?” he repeats. there’s a weight behind his words that has tears springing to your eyes.

“no, issei ‘m not.”

“i’m almost home, i’m parking right now. i’ll be up in a few minutes, okay? wait for me, angel.”

you were always waiting for him, weren’t you? what's a couple more minutes? you hang up and try in vain push down the wave of anxiousness that hits you. it’s just mattsun, you try to remind yourself. even if it’s been awhile since you’ve really felt like a part of his life, he’s still the person you fell in love with. right?

even if the issei from the past would never have made you feel so alone. the issei that was free from the hardships of real life, of 9-5s and bills due and rent to pay. you miss that issei, mourn for him on empty rooftops everyday. maybe he’s still alive somewhere within this new issei but it’s not like you would know.

you head off the roof, shivering slightly as you make your way home. the days were only getting colder, you should’ve known not to stay out for so long. you were trying to get your shaky hands to cooperate and unlock the door when you hear the elevator dings open and your name being called out.

“you weren’t home?” he asks, gently prying your keys from your grasp and opening the door for you both. as soon as he locks it behind you, his hands are covering yours once more. “baby you’re freezing.”

words. where were your words? you couldn’t call up any as he brought your joined hands to his mouth, blowing hot air on them and rubbing them between his to warm them up. this is the closest you’ve been to him in who knows how long and you couldn’t summon up a single sentence. it’s not your fault. his attention has always stunned you into silence.

he thought you were painfully shy the first time you met and though that was half true, you mostly found yourself silently panicking about the handsome man that suddenly sat beside you. the professor had paired the class off to discuss the readings for that lecture and your interest had only come to life when you saw the dark haired man make his way to you.

“i’m gonna be honest.” he said as he plopped down beside you and showed you the blank document open on his laptop. “i have no idea what we’re supposed to be doing right now. do you?”

it was his eyes, you decided much later, hugging your pillow and staring at the text you just received from a new number. you came alive under his gaze like you could finally catch your breath, everything dull until his eyes landed on you. you don’t believe in love at first sight, this was something different. it was the dust of collapsing stars finding each other once more. it was strings of fate being braided together. it was more profound, more important than love and it all happened in a moment.

you nodded in response to his earlier question though it was clear neither of you were paying any attention to what was going on in class, too caught up in the small bubble that surrounded you and drowned out the rest of the world.

“matsukawa. i’m- my name’s matsukawa.” you must’ve given your name in return judging by the smile he gave you in return. “so what’re we doing, partner?”

this time, you forced a proper response, intensely aware of how you held yourself in a way you’ve never been before. “yeah, she just wants us to talk about today’s reading.”

matsukawa watched you pull up your notes, resting his head in his hand while you began explaining the general concepts. you paused when you noticed he was still looking at you and not at the notes you had angled towards him.

“am i explaining it okay?”

“we’re a month into the semester, how have i not noticed you before?”

“guess you don’t notice something you’re not looking for.”

just then the professor grabbed everyone’s attention, the student’s quietly migrating back to their seats but matsukawa stayed where he was. instead, you could just hear him speak under his breath, more to himself then to you but you still managed to pick it up, your face going hot as it echoed in your head. “trust me, i’m looking now.”

the memory leaves you more vulnerable than you expected, soft in his arms as the numbness finally fades and the shaking stops.

“where were you?” he says.

“the roof.” his brows furrow, lips pulled down in a frown. it’s strange feeling yourself falling back into reading him so easily, not needing him to ask to know he wanted you to explain why. “i like going up there. this place is too quiet with just me in it.”

the longer you watch him, the more you pick up from his body language. the confusion then understanding that flits across his face, the underlying care you’re so familiar with as he smooths his thumb over the back of your hand. but more than anything you start to see his guilt. his muscles are rigid with it, it swims in his eyes that never quite seem to meet yours.

“i’ve fucked up, haven't i?” he finally says when he realizes you won’t be the one to breach the subject.

“issei…”

“no, i have. things have been so endless, i feel like i’m half awake and i’ve hurt you because of it.”

you squeeze his hands, trying to reassure him. “just talk to me. please.”

“i hate it. work is nonstop, everyday is the same shit over and over. it’s just a wave that keeps knocking me down and i can barely get my footing before it pushes me down again. and every day i think about quitting just to get ready the next morning.

“if i was alone, if… if i didn’t have you i would’ve quit so long ago but i want to give you the life you deserve and i can’t do that if i’m broke. and it all might be for nothing cause i might’ve lost you already.”

the confession ends with mattsun clearing his throat, blinking fast and concentrating solely on your laced hands. you can’t seem to catch your breath, struggling under the weight he had carried silently until now as he finally shares the burden with you.

“you haven’t lost me, issei. look at me.” you wait until his eyes meet yours before dropping your voice to a whisper. “you haven’t lost me.”

“i don’t deserve you.”

“it’s not about deserving, i chose you. i chose to love you, i chose to stay when things got bad. yeah, you hurt me.” it’s impossible to miss the full body flinch at your words, “and i’m not ready to forgive you just yet. but that doesn’t mean i’m giving up on us. i don’t want you working yourself to death for me. i don’t care where we live or how much money you spend on me. i don’t need all of that, i just need you. got it?”

“got it.” you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows down whatever feeling overcomes him, “i’m sorry.”

“i know.”

“tell me what you need, please. i need- i need to make this right.”

you answer by leaning forward and mattsun meets you halfway. the kiss is soft in contrast to the way you bundle the front of his shirt in your fists, afraid the moment might end before it’s even begun but mattsun takes his time cherishing you. there’s regret and gratitude and love that dances across your tongue and the taste has pressure building behind your eyes.

it isn’t enough. you need him closer, need him to line the cracks of your soul with his touch. you pull just far back enough to break the kiss and mumble against his lips, “more, ‘sei please. i’m so cold.”

“anything you want, pretty baby. let me make you feel good, yeah?”

his lips crash back down on yours with renewed eagerness. there’s a desperation that wasn’t there a moment ago fuelling you both and urging you to stumble blind into the bedroom, barely letting your mouths detach as you fumble and undress each other.

it’s not until you’re naked before him that your head clears a bit and shyness comes creeping in. he cups your face as though he could sense you curling into yourself and simply says, “beautiful.”

the utter conviction in his voice is enough to dispel any insecurities before they have a chance to latch on and you turn your head to kiss the center of his palm, silently telling him you were all right. together you land in a tangled heap in bed, his half hard cock resting on your thigh. mattsun kisses his way down your neck, licking and sucking at every sensitive spot he had mapped out over the years.

“issei…” you say, impatience tinging your voice as you feel your core throb with need.

“i’ll get you there, angel, you know i will. let me take my time, i missed you.”

true to his word, he began kissing every inch of skin he could reach. your tits, your stomach, your thighs all the way down to your ankles, he made sure to shower with affection. it’s nearly overwhelming. you knew you were starved for his attention but it feels like something breaks loose inside you the longer his mouth trails over your body, whispering declarations into your skin that left you tingling in his wake. by the time his fingers dip between your legs, your thighs are sticky with arousal, clit thrumming and begging to be touched.

“look at my pretty baby’s pussy. all wet just for me?”

“mhmm ‘s all for you, issei.”

he hums, swirling his middle finger around your entrance and pressing the thick digit inside with ease. it’s only a few pumps later he adds another, stretching out your gummy walls. his other hand drifts over your mound, his thumb finally giving your clit some attention as his fingers graze over a spot inside you that has your hips rising off the bed.

“stay still. you want to be my good girl, right?” the quiet authority that radiates from mattsun has you clenching around him, doing your best to do as he asks and keep your legs spread for him. “there you go. you’re taking me so well, baby. you’re close, aren’t you? i can feel it”

mattsun loves showing off how well he knew your body, how it never took long for you to crumble beneath him. a few more idle circles with the pad of his thumb and your orgasm washes over you, rising gently and leaving you relaxed in its wake.

that state didn’t last long as he replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking at your clit that twitches against his tongue, still sensitive from your high. “issei! w-wait please give me a sec-”

his glare is enough to cut through your babbling, his fingers never slowing in their strokes against that sweet spot. you let out a low moan as he adds yet another finger, the stretch just shy of uncomfortable but it’s quick to fade into pleasure once again. the flame in your gut is far more intense this time and you can’t stop the whimpers he pulls from you. you thread your fingers through his dark curls, tugging on them and pulling him deeper into your folds.

“that’s it, princess. cum on my tongue and i’ll stuff you full, i promise. you can do it, c’mon baby.”

the encouragement has the coil in your gut tightening once more and the lewd sounds of mattsun lapping up every drop that escapes you is enough to snap it. when the blood stops ringing in your ears, you realize he’s shifted your positions. he’s sat cross-legged on the bed with you pulled into his lap, legs locked around his waist. his cock is pinned between your stomachs, smearing precum on your skin and your mouth waters as you catch sight of the blushing tip.

he whispers your name to grab your attention, naked devotion plain on his face when you gaze up at him. “i love you.”

this. this was your breaking point. the words you longed to hear every time you picked up the phone for those dreaded calls. your vision blurs with tears that well up and spill down your cheeks before you could blink them away. “you do?”

“i do, baby, with everything i’ve got. i-“ he falters for a moments, visibly steeling himself for what he wanted to say. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you. there’s not a future i can picture that doesn’t include you. you’re it for me.”

“i want that too ‘sei.” you hiccup, more tears trickle out faster than you can wipe them clear.

you feel his whole body relax, hands rubbing at your sides to soothe you. “don’t cry, angel. wait till i’m inside you at least.”

“shut up.” your laugh comes out watery but it feels good to smile. “how do you go from sweet to nasty so fast?”

“just wanted to see you smile.” you try and fail to suppress another grin that only widens when mattsun peppers your cheeks with loud kisses. “so pretty and all mine.”

“all yours.” you repeat, grinding your soaked folds along the underside of his cock. “and you’re mine, right?”

“that’s right, princess. go on, take what’s yours.”

sinking down on mattsun feels like coming home, the empty ache finally gone as he fills you and you both moan when he bottoms out. there’s no way for you to bounce in this position but you find that you don’t mind. you feel closer to him like this, what little space there is between you vibrating with how vulnerable you both were.

it’s relaxing, slowly rolling your hips against each other, not building towards anything and indulging in the other’s touch. your hands roam across his broad back, sucking dark marks into his neck while he grabs at your ass, kneading and groping so possessively you clench around him.

“fuck.” he groans next to your ear. “keeping squeezing me with that princess cunt, you feel so fucking good. just like that, good girl.”

“issei…” you whimper, pressure gradually building in your gut as your grinding gets sloppy and legs grow weak.

“what is it, baby? use your words.”

“want more, ‘sei i want your cum.”

“yeah? want me to fill up this greedy pussy and keep you warm with my cum?” he leans forward, keeping you cradled in his arms as your back hits the mattress, your legs still crossed around his waist keeping him as close to you as possible.

you nod, half delirious with need and mattsun begins thrusting in earnest. his cock is so thick he nudges against every sensitive spot along your walls, his tip battering just below your cervix and hitting so deep you swear you can feel it in your throat. his hands pry yours open from where you had been gripping the sheets and laces his fingers with yours. a swell of love rises in you and has you gasping for air as he fucks you into the mattress. you can’t even hear your own moans over the squelch as you grow wetter and wetter and the smack of his heavy balls against your ass.

your orgasm takes both of you by surprise, ripping through you so violently you’re left a shaking mess. mattsun’s hips stutter, bucking wildly into you as he nears his own high and you stare in awe as he reaches it. it’s a sight you’ll never get enough of, how beautiful he looks as he spills endlessly inside you, mindlessly grinding it deeper with his softening cock.

“you okay, angel?” he asks, pulling you in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“mhmm. can we stay like this?” you weren’t ready to put any space between you, not so soon after reconnecting.

“‘course we can.” he settles over you, knowing exactly what you need. his weight a reassurance that grounds you in a way words never could. it’s a conversation in its own right, one that could only pass between two people who knew each other as well as you knew each other. in the quiet afterglow he tells you that he’s here with you. that you were going to work on being okay again. that he wouldn’t let you feel that lonely ever again. and you believe him with every fibre of your being.

dedicated to: @honeykeigo @ohno-otome @keigobaby @saintdabi @toshidou @sawam0chi

#matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #matsukawa angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei smut #matsukawa issei angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! smut

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

* * *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved. However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

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request for jack grealish one where he’s really upset over something and you’re there with him to comfort him, lots of physical contact being his love language and you being the only person he likes touching his hair ?

Comfort

You knew from the very second he walked through the door that annoyed would be an incredibly generous word to describe the emotions running through the Brummie boys head. You grimace to yourself, shoulder raising closer to your ears at the sound of the brand new front door slamming heavily behind him with a curse at the fact he couldn't get his shoes kicked off just right the first time he attempted it in the foyer.

The first game was a loss and just about all he'd gotten for the past few days was hate, stress, hate and some more fucking stress. He was exhausted. From Mykonos to Birmingham to get a bag full of clothes so he could meet Villa in London before eventually travelling to Manchester, his sleep schedule has been completely messed up and even when he did have bursts of time where he should have been sleeping, he had been laying awake scrolling through countless tweets criticising his every single move. Add to that the fact his body was exhausted from international duty and that he had wanted nothing more than to curl up by your side and let his worries melt away like he had last gotten to do nearly three whole months ago.

He doesn't know you're here. To the very best of Jack's knowledge, you were still home in Birmingham and he would probably have to broach the conversation of whether or not you'll be joining him up anytime soon, if ever. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but you know Jack better than anyone else and there's the thick sheen of his heart aching tears existing beneath his frustration.

"Hey baby."

His head snaps around to land his eyes on you the second your sweet voice meets his buzzing ears. The echos of Etihad still burn a bit of his hearing away for now, but he knows it'll return to normal by the end of the night. The tears that had previously been kept on his lash line, pushed back by his will not to breakdown for fear he might not be able to stop if he starts are now past the last line of defence, streaming over his cheeks as he crossed the floor at a pace that would send his fife rating into surefire question.

Your body makes an involuntary 'oof' as he crashes against you, his arms so tight around your body as he stops you from stumbling back with the force of his incoming hug. You don't think he's ever actually held you that tightly before, never with such dire necessity, with such urgency for you to be as close to him as he could get you.

The hair that's been allowed to fall loose from the band he'd earlier had it tied back in tickles the back of your neck as it dangles over the exposed skin. He mumbles something almost incoherent about how much he's missed you into your neck, pepping chaste kisses where his lips have landed against you in this hug. You wished you could enjoy that, but the dampening that has begun to occur over the shoulder that his head is above reminds you of the pain he must be in.

Leaving your childhood club is one thing, but leaving it when everybody else seems to think he's a monster for it is a whole different kind of agony. There were just too many emotions for people to see the kind of things Jack had given for the club and the huge opportunity he had left them with his legacy and with the money they copped for his record breaking sale.

"It's okay, Jacky." You coo, tightening your arms around you as he attempts one tighter squeeze to force the tears back into him. It's a futile attempt, his arms loosening but never dropping away from you as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets those sobs shake his body. "I got you, baby. I've got you."

There was such a mix of emotions running through him that made him feel like the world had just pushed him to the ground and taken the perfect opportunity to give his body a good kicking. First final for England in 55 years, then they lost in a penalty shootout he didn't even get to be a part of after a game he barely got to play in. Then a holiday he couldn't take with you because of work commitments and a sudden coworker needed sooner maternity leave meaning your holiday was completely eliminated. As if those things didn't dampen his spirit, all that transfer business had gone down and it was finally all hitting him.

His exhaustion had caught up, an inevitable burn out that could be messed only by the presence of you in his life. Some of this tears that stream down his cheeks and pool on the grey material of your t-shirt are ones of joy and relief for finally having you back in his arms again for the first time in far too long of a time. Jack vows he will never ever spend that amount of time without you again. Never will he let so much time pass before he gets to hold you, kiss you and tell you face to face how much he truly loves every single thing about you.

"You're my rockstar, you know." You announce, seemingly out of the blue ones his body wracking sobs had died to smaller sniffled and period tears streaking down onto you. "I've literally never been prouder of anyone in my life ever. Not only did you fucking smash the euros, but then you stayed so sweet and so amicable during such a difficult process. You handled everything so well, J. I'm so proud or you and I'm so, so happy for you." You promise, pushing him back so you can take his blotchy, tear streaked face in your head. The expanse of that face is coved in your kisses, pecked all over the surface until he's giggling like the Jack that you know so well, his laugh the most contagious sound you've ever been lucky enough to get to hear on a daily basis. "And I'm so lucky that you let me share this journey with you." You finish, landing your lips softly and perfectly onto his with a warmth and love he had been desperately missing out on for those last vital few weeks of his break.

"S' our journey," Jack mumbles in response against your lips, pulling back every so slightly so he can get a proper good look at the face he had missed so much in person. Your cute quirked eyebrows and confusion tainted eyes make him smile before he elaborates. "Not my journey, it's our journey together. All of this, just the two of us."

His words make your heart sore, flying up onto the space above you in pure glee. You had to admit there was a mild element of fear wondering if he would want you here or if he'd maybe be wanting fresh start, but that was certainly not the case for Jack.

"I love you," he says as you feel him tuck you right back into his chest with a content hum. "I love you too, but you need a wash."

Jack's laughter bellows loudly from his chest beneath your ear at your lightly playful and yet very truthful statement.

"I ran you a bubble bath for you. Bathroom's huuuuge." Your eyes are full of wonder like he thought they might be when he would get the opportunity to bring you out to his temporary Manchester abode. This is you would both stay until he could find a house to place some money down on so he can truly start to settle out the fact he's going to have the next six years of his life here in this area with this club. It makes him more than happy, being here. But something that tickles him in thought as he follows you up the stairs is that he'll get to experience all of this newness with you. You’ll get to explore the new area together, find nee places, making it home together. You had both known Soulihull like the back of your hand, now you could find new places to just be together. He can go house hunting with you. He'll let you drag him through the houses he probably wouldn't otherwise look so much into, talking about what room could be which and silly little things he wouldn't even have noticed.

He could pick a house with you that would have enough room to start a family in together within the next year or so, like you had been hoping to do depending on what the club and transfer season had brought. This brought stability, a team that would function well without a reliance on him if there were some things he had to sit out in order to build this family.

It had been, unbeknownst to you, such a pivotal part of discussions with the Manchester City agents. Jack made it clear he was looking for stability and trophies. He had done so much for Villa and now it was time for him to invest energy in bigger fights with bigger clubs that don't face relegation so constantly. He made it clear to the managers also that the was looking to be in the business of starting a family sometime soon. He was welcomed with open arms still. A club who wanted him desperately and would probably have caved to many more demands from him, not having a fraction of an issue with negotiated paternity pay and leave.

He couldn't wait to find a house and settle down here with you for the foreseeable future, even if things didn't look exactly as he thought they might've looked when you first got together as merely young adults.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, eh?" You ask softly, running your fingers gently through his tangled and sweaty hair as he stands there in the middle of the large bathroom. Jack shrugs. There's so much in there today, not really like usual where he could sort through those thoughts and keep his head clear for every day and every game he faces.

"Just stressed," he huffs, allowing you to help him out of the brand new away strip he had been given at the beginning of the day today for his first first game with the new team.

His muscles are achy and tight, body still stiff from the cold that the rain had battered into his limbs as you easily hook off his boxers and tug them down his legs so he can step over the bathtub into the perfect temperature bubble filled water that makes him heave out a heavy sigh of relief the second it meets his skin.

"Talk to me, baby?"

And talk to you he did after he sat down in that bath with you.

He leaned back against you, allowing you to lather shampoo into the hair he trusted very few people with multiple times to massage the ache out of his skull from the previous days tension headaches. He talks about all those messages from so many unhappy people, some even City fans who didn't even want to entertain the idea of him being there. He talks about his worry of sitting on the bench season after season, telling you he was hoping to god those tweets wouldn't be further from the truth. He confided in you some of his greatest pains; the concept that he'd let his Villa teammates down and maybe even made his family unhappy despite the fact they had given him nothing but their full support and unsurprising pride just like everybody else in his immediate circle.

You massage muscle relaxing soap into all of the muscles in his body as he just talks, letting the weight of the world off of his shoulders to dissipate like the steam in the air from the bath. Only once he has everything off his chest and the waters gone cold do you both leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels then into pyjamas where he wraps you up in his arms like he's been desperate to do since the moment he touched off for International duty months ago, and he talks again.

This time, he talks to you instead of just talking out every worry and fear he's ever had.

Jack uses probably the most amount of words he's ever used in such sensible succession in order to paint you a perfect mental picture of a house just outside the city with a huge garden, fenced in for dogs and kids with a pool and enough room for all three of those future kids to have their own room, even though they'll share at first just for fun. He paints a picture of you at his games with two sons and a daughter, his name on each shirt along your back. The kids will call Foden uncle Phil and they’ll love him just like you both do. They'll get to play with the teams kids on the pitch after the games no matter how tired the guys are even if they've been thrashed in a loss. He depicts the kind of life you had both wanted for so long, somehow always deterred by something until right this moment, the time feeling like it had rolled perfectly into place for both of you.

And Jack tells you about how you'll poke fun at him when he starts to get those salt and pepper strands of hair and he'll love you no matter how you look. Your kids will learn what love is from their parents, they'll pick it up and they'll emulate it in their own lives sometime in the future. They'll stamp out hate with the hearts full of love that you will both allow those kids to grow into.

You both fall asleep together that night, wrapped in each others arms drifting off into dreams of kids that don't exist yet in a house you haven't even looked for with a future that each of you wants nothing more than to grab onto with both hands.

Jack's heart hurts for the changes he's made this week. He doubts the pain will ever fully leave him and he hopes that one day his club will welcome him back to end his career on a high note with them. However, until then the pain will be dulled by the prospect of his new future here.

One he can't wait to get stuck right into.

#jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #england national team #england national team imagine #football fics #footballer fics #footie fics

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

kacchan, kaacchan, kaachan

— “Your real fucking Kaa-chan is going to fuck your brains out and make sure that you can’t say that stupid fucking nickname to Bakugou without getting hard and remembering what I’m about to do to you, Deku,” you practically snarled into Izuku’s ear as you rut the silicone veined cock between his ready, supple cheeks. “Now, what’s my fucking name?”

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pairing: midoriya izuku x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, mommy kink, dom!reader, sub!izuku, pegging, jealous!reader, degradation, anal fingering, begging, crying, marking and biting, best friends(?) bkdk

word count: 6,520

a/n: I have transcended. im sorry, this is now my favorite fic. im... ohhh mama, I just froth at this idea so much, please if you aren’t so utterly disgusted by mommy kink or bkdk pray you read this. p l e a s e.

kinktober day 13 main kink: pegging | kinktober masterlist

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“I fucking hate them,” you growled, temples throbbing in your anger, fingers clutching your drink. “I’m going to kill Izuku and his stupid fucking Kacchan.”

You met Midoriya Izuku before high school. At the time, you had been a sweating, nervous middle schooler who was applying for Yuuei, who was sitting right next to him during the entrance exam. Despite the way your hands were shaking the entire time you were taking the test, and the way your stomach felt seconds from exiting your abdominal cavity and falling straight onto your lap, you smiled. You kept watching the green-haired boy next you continue to fanboy over the smallest of things.

Through this, you had also met Bakugou Katsuki. You had initially thought the two of them were friends, well with the rather weird nicknames they had for each other, and then the small disgruntled comment on not being able to work together with friends.

After being dismissed to go change out of your school uniforms, you had tapped on the green-haired boy. He was muttering a storm under his breath. He wasn’t much taller than you, and his green eyes were shot wide when you thanked him for making you less nervous. He didn’t say anything back to you, a red blush bright on his face as you wished him luck before racing off.

So on the first day of high school, on the fated orientation day, you had been surprised to see that Midoriya and Bakugou nearly fought. They weren’t friends, you quickly figured out, a small frown on your face as Aizawa-sensei dropped Bakugou from his capture weapon. It didn’t take much for you to become friends with the initially timid, but entirely confident Midoriya Izuku. The two of you were fast friends, and before long after watching countless times where Midoriya and Bakugou would be at each other's throats to only be okay within the next few hours.

It confused you entirely.

Eventually, one day on your way home together one night, you finally asked Midoriya.

Midoriya had frowned, his eyes looking out of the speeding window as he slowly explained his relationship with Bakugou to you. He explained that he and Bakugou were childhood friends, having first met when they were three years old. They had been good friends, best friends if it was possible to have one back then. Then, their quirks appeared, and Bakugou received endless praise and awe — it was a changing point in their relationship since Midoriya explained that he was a rare individual who only manifested his quirk within the last few years. So while Bakugou had never put him down for being quirkless, a single moment happened when they were about six years old, wandering in a gated woods area, and Midoriya went to see if Bakugou — who had fallen from a great height — was okay. From that moment on, something flipped inside Bakugou, and he lashed out. He smiled sadly, admitting without a lick of doubt that Bakugou was a jerk to him, a real asshole.

As if to save Bakugou from an ill opinion from you, Midoriya quickly imputed that Bakugou was still one of the lesser antagonizers he had in middle school and at the end of grade school. Most of his other classmates had been his bigger bullies. Still, because Bakugou was just different to both him and the school as a whole, the few times he antagonized Midoriya, it seemed to wave into ripples that turned into tsunami wave crashes. Midoriya had explained that he had gone too far in a single instance and that it still hurt thinking about it. He would like an apology from Bakugou but didn’t know how or if it would happen. After all, Bakugou hadn’t bullied or antagonized him at all for the last full year.

You had taken it all in, watching the small green-haired boy look both sad and determined as the metro pulled into your station.

“You still want to be friends with him, huh?” you asked, ignoring the people clambering out and in of the vehicle.

Midoriya had looked at you with wide eyes and his teeth bitten, swollen lips pressed into a flat line, his head dropping, “Is it weird that I do?”

Chuckling, you shook your head, moving to leave the metro, “A little, you guys definitely will have to put some work into it, but hey, as long as you know that he’s done you wrong before, I think you deserve to find out if you two can make it work again.”

That had happened at the end of your first month of school.

At the end of your second year of school, you had confessed your feelings to Midoriya Izuku, who thankfully, returned your feelings.

At the end of your third year of school, you had watched with bright eyes and a great smile as your boyfriend hugged his childhood friend Bakugou Katsuki as the graduation streamers and confetti still swirled in the air. You and your entire group of female friends, who for the past two years had been trying to get both boys to confess that they were best friends with each other, seemed to have succeeded. They had obviously been friends by the end of the first year; both boys have gotten to speak on their many different feelings and thoughts at the end of the first year. But it had taken seven girls, two more years, and a late-night discussion between you and Izuku for you to figure out that no matter what happened with his relationship with his Kacchan, he would be at peace with it. He had chased him for so long, for such crazy lengths and obstacles that the moment when they found peace, he had accepted it.

But you knew what would happen if you had gotten the ever so annoying, permanent tsundere of Bakugou Katsuki to admit where the lengths of their friendship were at currently. You had guessed correctly because Izuku was absolutely sobbing as Bakugou hugged him. It could have been an awkward moment between them. The two of them never touched one another unless it was because they were roughhousing, training, or assisting one another in the middle of a fight. But your heart warmed at the sight of your boyfriend, entirely built and tall as he was now, blushing as he still does, scarred fingers and arms holding his Kacchan tight, the happy tears on his face rushing down his cheeks as Bakugou seemed to be blinking up a storm.

You have succeeded.

Best friends, you squealed internally, grabbing the girls and walking away to take some photos together. You had finally gotten them to admit that they were best friends again.

It should have made you happy, and for a while, it did make you glad to know your loving boyfriend was over the moon happy to have this small detail confirmed with him, but two years post-graduation, it was straight up annoying and made you somewhat... livid.

It started when your classmates began to whisper about how strong you were to let Izuku and Bakugou be that close. Then reporters asked about how you felt about the Wonder Duo’s relationship outside of the field. Fans straight up saying that they liked them better than you and Izuku, fans asking if you felt lesser than Ground Zero in Pro Hero Deku’s life. At first, you had always expressed your truths, you didn’t care what others thought because you knew the truth, but they must have been annoying you for so damn long that you were beginning to feel doubtful, just the tad bit anxious.

Izuku had asked if you wanted to go to a bar for a night of some drinking. Well, with the both of you not having work tomorrow, you had agreed. It had been a while since the two of you had been able to do anything. So a night at the bar the two of you frequented a lot was a great start to a long night the two of you were undoubtedly going to have if the lace panties under your skirt had anything to say about it. You thanked the gods of every deity every night for making your boyfriend such a stupid pervert that a single whisper of what you were wearing would have him turning red and stumbling out of the bar to get you home immediately.

Well, that was the plan.

But no, nope, nope, nope, nope.

In the middle of your flirting session with Izuku, who still could not keep up with your quick, slick tongue, his phone had rung. It wasn’t abnormal that it went off, he was an incredibly gifted hero, and with his recent sort of permanent team up with his Kacchan to form a hero duo, they were hot shit.

But it wasn’t a work call.

No, it took two seconds to figure that out because Izuku had placed his phone to his ear, his cheeks pink, and eyes sparkling as he immediately chirped out: “Kacchan! Hi!”

And just like that, your flirtatious mood had been stomped on and stabbed over into one of annoyance.

Your boyfriend was a hero otaku; that was something you knew the very moment you met him when both of you were merely fifteen. From that moment on, when your crush was formed on the excitable, blushing otaku, you knew that should you become his girlfriend, there would only be two people above you.

Midoriya Inko then All Might.

Both of those people were completely understandable.

Inko was the best mother in the world, and as Izuku’s most significant and first support system, you didn’t mind losing out to her. She was a fucking sweetheart, after all.

All Might was a slightly annoying one, but as your boyfriend's mentor and father figure, you understood. Plus, the scrawny man was also a sweetheart who flustered over Izuku almost as much as Inko did.

But, you didn’t and couldn’t believe that Bakugou ‘Kacchan’ fucking Katsuki would be challenging your place as third in the most critical person in Midoriya Izuku’s life. You wouldn’t sit idly by on it.

Taking another long, deep chug of the heavy in alcohol percentage drink in your hand, your anger seemed to be at an all-time high.

Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan.

That stupid fucking nickname seemed to pour like liquid gold from Izuku’s mouth.

Kacchan this, Kacchan that, Kacchan yes, Kacchan no.

You knocked back yet another fucking drink, slamming the glass onto the bar counter, demanding another one as Izuku’s deep stupid voice seemed to turn airy as he laughed at something Bakugou Katsuki said. Bakugou Katsuki, who didn’t ever tell jokes because everything he said was stupidly not funny and hated being not serious even for a single second, was making your stupidly thick, built, and strong boyfriend giggle like a schoolgirl. Izuku only laughed like that around you?!

Oh, fucking, no, you realized, your back straightening, your eyes blazing into Izuku’s side profile that still illuminated the deep, intensity of his blinding happy smile.

“Kacchaaannn!” Izuku suddenly whined, his lips pressing into a pout that wouldn’t form because of his stupid, irritatingly handsome smile. “That’s not fair!”

Growling under your breath, you grabbed the new drink presented to you by the bartender and began chugging.

Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan.

Kacchan, Kaacchan, Kaa-chan.

You spluttered, your head light and fuzzy with the inhibiting alcohol as you heard Izuku still rambling on the phone to his dumb fucking Kacchan.

‘Did he just?’ you thought, entirely unprepared for that name to whisper from his mouth.

Kaa-chan, Kaa-chan, Kaa-chan.

You stopped a broken moan from spilling from your mouth at that word. Despite the coursing alcohol in your veins and the way it typically made you hornier slower, that slightly whiny, entirely Izuku’s tone when he said what your horny brain to be interpreting as Kaa-chan, your panties became wet immediately.

“Izuku,” you breathed — almost whined — into his ear. Your chest pressed against his muscled arm—your mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to the back of his ear before biting down on his earlobe.

“Y-Y-Yes, y/n?” Izuku stammered, his face flushing, mind entirely lost at the feeling of your breasts pressing onto his arm and probably his stupid Kacchan’s voice in his other ear.

“I’m wearing those panties you really, really like,” you moaned softly into his ear, your teeth nibbling on his earlobe.

You never heard Izuku hang up so quickly on his Kacchan as he downed his drink and quickly followed after you, a puppy at your heels.

The two of you made it home, mouths pressing fervently together, fingers in each other’s hair and clothes. You giggled when you managed to push your much larger boyfriend into the door the moment you both managed to enter your apartment.

His scarred fingers had invaded the underneath of your skirt, already pressing his fingertips to the lacey fabric. He moaned against your mouth, his hands pervertedly gripping your full ass in his large, hot palms.

“Call me Kaa-chan,” you suddenly moaned, your mouth tearing away from Izuku’s reveling in the fact that he tried to chase after your mouth. It was at moments like this that being so much smaller than your skyscraper of your boyfriend helped — the third year of high school had made your entire male classmates grow an additional near one hundred centimeters, fucking ridiculous.

“W-What?!” Izuku spluttered, his eyes wide but still entirely glazed over with his lust.

“Kaa-chan,” you slur, the alcohol in your veins and his kisses on your lips, making your brain mush. “Call me, Kaa-chan, please!”

“I-I can’t? I’m not going to call you, Kacchan! T-That’s so weird? You don’t even look like him, and even if you did, I’m sure that would be entirely not okay! That’s Kacchan’s nickname, and for me to just use it in bed would make me think that I’m having sex with Kacchan, and I bet you’d agree about how not okay that would be! Imagine that! That would be not okay, but if there’s anything else you want me to call you in bed, although, you do have the best reactions to me whenever I call you—” Izuku rambled, his eyes searching the dark hallway for something to focus on. His face red with slight humiliation and his muttering tongue speeding so fast you could barely keep up with his sentences with your drunken brain.

“Not Kacchan,” you roll your eyes, your hands pressed to his side, trapping him between your arms — something that was a hilarious sight. “Kaa-chan, Izuku-chan, Kaa-chan.”

“O-Oh.”

You pulled away from the wall, your eyes bright with what you thought would finally be the tipping point in your biggest kink finding a spot in your sex life with Izuku.

But Izuku begins laughing, his head shaking quickly, the laughter so loud that you watch literal tears form in his eyes as he stands there. Your cunt suddenly feels dry.

“I-I can’t do that,” Izuku finally manages to press through, his hand on his stomach as small laughs still manage to breakthrough. “Oh, god, no, I can’t. I’ll always think of Kacchan when — if I call you kaa-chan.”

Your lips pressed together, anger flushing through your blood as you nod your head once.

“Fine.”

“Y-Y/n!” Izuku bawks, his eyes wide as he quickly understood that he hurt your feelings with that outburst of his. “W-Wait, I mean—”

“No need,” you cement over, lips pursed in your shaking anger. “Give me some time alone, please.”

Izuku can only watch with wide, tearful eyes as you guide him out of your apartment, and you don’t look at him when you close the door, too afraid of what those puppy dog eyes would do to you. You needed time after being laughed at like that; your pride demanded it.

It took less than five hours for you to forgive Izuku. He had stayed in the hallway of your apartment. Sitting outside of your door, waiting for you to message him of some sort about wanting to talk. You hadn’t precisely forgiven him, just wouldn’t allow your more often than not perfect boyfriend to be trapped outside, sleeping in a terrible position on your day off. So at nearly two am, your eyes refusing to close and fall asleep, you trudged to your front door and demanded he gets in or else he’d sleep in the hallway.

Izuku had looked up at you with tired, sad eyes, and your throat tightened as you looked away with a huff. He had gotten to his feet and walked into your apartment, kissing you softly as the door closed behind the two of you. Despite you having been the one to kick him out earlier, he carried you to your room as you began to cry again. He undressed to just his boxers, and the two of you cuddled each other before the both of you fell asleep, feeling slightly better.

Although you hated to admit it, everything was back to normal the following morning.

Well, that is until the fateful day when you were straddled across Izuku’s waist, his thick, long cock stretching you out as much as it felt that first time you fucked, riding him until his hands left bruising prints on your hips. You knew what made Izuku tick, moan, and go absolutely feral in bed; you knew him so well, and if the indicating throbbing of his swollen cock had anything to say, was that he was seconds from cumming.

Again, this was a fateful day.

His work phone suddenly screeched at the nightstand, and you both screamed at the horror.

What was happening?!

Not bothering to unmount from his cock, Izuku grabbed his phone and placed it to his ear.

“Hello, Deku, speaking!”

You pouted from on top of him, still rather pleased that his cock was still firm within you, and you watched his face, ready to send the blood in his cock right back to his head and get him out the front door if it was an emergency.

“K-KACCHAN?! THIS ISN’T AN EMERGENCY!” Izuku screamed, his face pounding red as his free arm collapsed over his eyes.

You were going to kill motherfucking shithead, Bakugou Katsuki.

Your eyes narrowed, and with the fury of being cockblocked by your boyfriend's stupid best friend in a whole new way, you began to shift your hips against his cock. Your hips rising and falling as you continued to fuck Izuku, uncaring that he was on the phone.

Izuku, never having been good at being secretive, let out a strangled choke and a moan, his hand thrown over his eyes trying to get a solid hold on your hips to keep you from fucking yourself against him. He froze, his face exploding with heat the moment you forcibly clenched around his thick length, “I-I-I’m at y/n’s apartment! Kacchan! NO! We were having sex!”

Rolling your eyes, you knew he was going to blab that secret out.

“We are having sex right now, K-Kacchan!” Izuku whimpered, downright hilarious of the brick wall of a pro hero could do. “Kacchan, that’s not fair! You called on my emergency-only phone! Of course, I was going to pick up!”

Red bled into your vision as you realized that Bakugou undoubtedly was talking shit about your ability to fuck your own boyfriend.

“Kacchan!” Izuku groaned again, but you were far past the point of being okay with this situation.

Grabbing the phone from Izuku’s hand, you slammed the phone to your ear, listening to the chortling laughter of Bakugou fucking Katsuki.

“You fucking piece of fucking shit, try calling this number again without a proper fucking emergency next time, and I’ll kill. you!” you spat into the phone, your blood boiling as the laughter on the other side of the line stopped, only for you to be met with an irritated and challenge-accepted growl of Bakugou Katsuki, who was seconds from responding back with his own threat and challenge. But you hung up, chucking the phone into the corner of the room before setting your sight on Izuku who’s eyes and pupils were blown wide.

You couldn’t even begin to process that your words had turned Izuku on; you could barely feel his throbbing, twitching cock buried deep in your womb because your inner walls held a vice, unbreakable grip on him. Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan. You had finally heard that stupid fucking nickname in bed, and still, the way it was said and who it was for wasn’t for you, and you were absolutely frothing.

“Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan,” you spit out, fury and animosity, your hips still slamming down on his cock, Izuku’s scarred hands once again reaching for your waist. “Is there any other fucking name you can ramble in bed?!”

Izuku cries out, his hips snapping up to meet yours, the echoing slap of your meeting sexes still not loud enough to tune out your angry, abhorrent thoughts.

“N-No?!” Izuku stammers out, confusion heavy on his tongue, and you know why, but you don’t care. “I-I-I don’t! What else am I supposed to sayyyy oh my god, baby! What am I supposed to call Kacchan?!”

A cold shiver runs down your spine, and you smile slowly. You wait for green eyes to open and lock on you before your smile becomes cunning, altogether ferocious, and biting as your hand reaches out and grabs the curls at the nape of his neck. You yank on the hair towards you, watching as his neck arches, and you coo at the breathless gasp that spills from his mouth as your lips are at his ear, his cock threatening to slip out of your boiling cunt at this new angle. There’s a growl on your tone, your lips brushing against the soft cartilage of his ear. “Say Kaa-chan, Kaa-chan, Kaa-chan. Since you fucking want your damn fucking Kacchan so badly that you can’t even indulge in my little nickname, I’ll make sure to ruin the damn fucking nickname for you forever.”

You pull away, your hissing words sitting heavy in his ears as you slip off his cock and stumble to the closet for your toys.

Izuku lets out a needy noise, his breaths pathetic gasps as he looks at you and away, unable to fully comprehend just what you were planning on doing to him.

Slamming open the closet, you grab the plastic tinted box in the closet, throwing it open and grabbing three items.

One: your pretty green harness.

You had bought at a sex shop store you frequent whenever you were bored and alone. About six months ago, this particular sex shop had obtained rights to sell Pro Hero styled lingerie and sex toys. This harness was modeled after Izuku’s costume, and you bought it to surprise him with whenever you two got into pegging.

Two: the bottle of lube.

Also purchased from the sex shop. Apparently, it was a lube that was both super cold and hot — obviously modeled after Todoroki. It would start off as cold on the skin before warming up to temperatures that were guaranteed to make people shriek and moan like porn stars.

And last, but definitely not least, your ace up your sleeve: the strap on dildo.

At the same sex shop, they had released a limited quantity, a one-week available dildo that was nearly impossible to accept was a thing. Along their wall of many, many different shapes and sizes of dildos had sat seven limited dildos made from the cocks of pro heroes.

One of which being Ground Fucking Zero: Bakugou Katsuki.

You’re not sure what possessed you into buying it, but you did. The dildo modeled after Bakugou’s own cock was now something you possessed, something you hid from Izuku’s sight at all times. The cock was about eight, nearly nine inches, maintaining a fat, swollen head and base, with thick veins running through its length.

The dildo itself was completely minimalist, jet black with only the Ground Zero’s logo painted to the bottom of the curve, but if you were to do this, Izuku wouldn’t know it was his best friend's cock until you were done with him.

Throwing your legs through the harness, you turn your head to lock eyes with Izuku’s bright eyes that are taking in your every move. You fasten the ties, making them just a tad bit tight around your thighs and waist because you knew that Izuku loved seeing the divot in your skin.

Your eyes are peering through your lashes to look at him, your frown becoming a confident, biting smirk as you attach the dildo, immediately covering your hand with the cold lube before slicking up the silicone cock. Izuku watches you with shaking thighs as you climb back onto the bed, your eyes dark, dangerous, as your fingers drag down his toned and muscled calves.

“Get on your fucking hands and knees like the fucking good boy you are,” you growl out the command, your fingernails digging into his skin. “Show your cute fucking ass to your Kaa-chan.”

Izuku let out a heavy moan as his body quickly shifted over, he got up onto his knees, but he went a step further by pressing onto his knees, letting his scarred back curve beautifully for you.

You groan at the sight, Izuku's large, muscled ass on full display for you. His body trembles and shakes with every breath he takes and how his muscles are tight with his nervousness. His little asshole clenching and tightening at the air, undoubtedly ready to have you press the cock into him. You groan, your hand that's slick with the lube becoming warmer with the intended promise of the lube, and your grin when you grip his supple asscheeks between your hands, delighting at the way his flesh molds within your hands.

“You have such a pretty little ass, baby boy,” you moan, your index finger circling around the rim of his pert, tight hole. You lean in closer, your hot breaths spilling across his muscle that sends it spasming in its attempts to clench around nothing. “What do you want your Kaa-chan to do?”

Izuku stammers, his mouth unable to form any sort of coherent sentence as you lather your fingers in the cold lube, and without much of an introduction, you slide your slick, cold index finger into his hole. Izuku cries loudly when you move your finger inside of his ass, and you smirk at the sight of his twisted with delirium face before you. Eyes crossed, tongue hanging out as your finger dives into his ass.

“Does this feel good, baby?” you ask, finger curling deep within his ass.

He can’t find the energy to speak, but strangled noises of approval are made, and his hips shift back onto your thrusting finger.

You enter a new finger, stretching out his tight muscle even further, your two fingers reaching a further depth and more manageable pace than you had before. You grin at the way Izuku begins to fuck himself against your fingers, his asshole looking as if it swallows your fingers as your dildo ruts against his leaking cock. Izuku's chest collapses onto the mattress when you glide your free hand against both the dildo and his cock as you continue to finger his ass — a third finger eventually joining.

“God, your ass is so fucking slutty, sweetie,” you groan, absolutely obsessed with the pink haze on Izuku’s cheeks and the growing moans. “Is your Kaa-chan making you feel good? Kaa-chan promises that she’ll protect you through everything!”

Izuku spams, a loud cry of your name as your fingernails scratch at his walls, and his hips buck further into your fingers deep in his ass before rutting back into your hand, stroking his cock. You coo at how he is clearly enjoying it, chest-thumping with how he clearly wants more, and how you intend to give him more. A sadistic smile carved onto your face as his rambling begins to take shape begins to actually have meaning behind it except the whining, pitiful cries.

“You are!” Izuku finally manages to gasp, his ass slamming back onto your curled three fingers. The lube is now hot as it can grow, and Izuku is obsessed with the heat in his ass. “You’re doing this to me, y/n!”

You freeze, fingers freezing in his ass as Izuku once again refused to call you Kaa-chan.

Well then.

Freeing your fingers from deep in his ass, your upper lip curled into a snarl as you doused the Ground Zero dildo with the ice-cold lube, your blood roaring in your ear. It just seemed that you were going to have to take that nickname by force.

Slapping the lube coated dildo between the valley of his pretty, beautiful asscheeks, you grabbed his head of curls, snapping his head back so that his ear was a lick away. “Listen to what I’m about to fucking do, I-zu-ku,” you accentuate his name, your free hand gripping his slick cock, and fisting it slowly, your grip tightening whenever he tried to rut into your grip. “Your real fucking Kaa-chan is going to fuck your brains out and make sure that you can’t say that stupid fucking nickname to Bakugou without getting hard and remembering what I’m about to do to you, Deku,” you practically snarled into Izuku’s ear. Izuku freezes for a second, deep flushed red exploding on his face before he moans loudly, face burying into the mattress as you rut the silicone veined cock between his ready, supple cheeks. “Now, what’s my fucking name?”

“Kacchan…” Deku’s mouth fumbles, unable to find that distinction even like this, but that’s okay, you got time.

“Again, Deku,” you snap, watching as a shiver slams down his spine at the nickname, and you press the head of the cold, lube coated dildo against his ready, clenching asshole.

“Kaa-aachan!” Deku moans loudly, and you press the head of the black dildo into his ass, watching as his slutty little ass swallows the head without a single problem. His back arches further, and his ass shakes as you keep him from falling further on his Kacchan’s cock.

“Are you having that much fucking trouble distinguishing who’s fucking you right now, Deku?!” you practically seethe, your fingernails digging into his firm, plump ass before beginning to drag the cockhead away.

“No!” Deku sobs, his ass pathetically following after your exiting cock. “I’m not Kaa-chan, I promise!”

Oh, the golden words you’ve been looking for.

With a widespread, near-feral grin, you slammed the whole cock within him, not stopping until you couldn’t see the black of the dildo, and your thighs were pressed against his ass. The noises that spilled from Izuku’s mouth with sinful, lewd, and made you think for a second the hot and cold lube was in your cunt. His mouth continued to speak at a speed you couldn’t understand, his ass greedily sucking the dildo in with no thought to return it.

“I-It feels so good!” Deku cries, his ass slapping backward onto your strap. “Your cock is so good!”

“Damn fucking right it is, Deku,” you laughed, hands gripping his hips and with a determined show to make sure he knew just who the superior Kaacchan was, you began to rut your hips back up again his.

Your pace was a lot faster than Deku’s, thighs crashing against his ass with every successive pound of your hips. Deku, who’s always been so good about being responsive in bed, is crying and moaning like a bitch in heat. His moans are endless and delightfully loud, his ass slamming backward to meet your rutting hips, and you can't help but land a loud spank against his sweet ass.

“How is this feeling, Deku? Tell your Kaa-chan how your shitty little hole is feeling?” you laugh, your body leaning over his, your lips and teeth marking up his sweaty, scarred back with bites marks and hickies. “Tell your Kaa-chan how it feels to have your shitty asshole fucked like this?”

“It feels sooo good, Kaa-chan!” Deku sobs and you shiver at the power behind that stupid little nickname. “My Kaa-chan is making me feel so good, so loved! Kaa-chan’s cock is stretching my ass out so good, her cock makes my stomach and ass feel so funny, but I d-don’t want it to end!”

His back is arched, and his fingers can no longer clutch the fabric of the mattress, and it’s all overwhelming as you fuck into him faster, more demanding, with more intention to have him be yours forever.

“My precious little Deku looks so fucking cute when he’s crying for his Kaa-chan,” you pant, your thrusts becoming sloppier with your heightened pleasure, knowing just whose cock he was crying for. His stupid Kacchan could never do this.

The raw noises of wanton pleasure rip from Deku’s throat and his ass comes down to fuck back on your strap on with greater power, faster speed. You keep up, though, you have to prove your worth, you’ll fuck his brains out until the only thing he can call you is his Kaa-chan. You grip his hips, your knees shifting as you find a new angle, a better angle as you drill the cock in faster and further in, bottoming out in him with every stroke of your bucking hips.

“Fuck!” he screams, his knees almost wholly giving out on you as you drive against his prostate. The cock and angle you had quickly allowing you such a pleasure as you fuck into him faster. And upon the tenth slam against his prostate, Deku is shouting. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Kaa-chan!”

Drool is pouring onto the bed, and you feel on fire as Deku continues to whimper, continues to cry your name, claiming that his Kaa-chan has never made him feel this good before. Your hands move from his waist and find themselves latched onto his curls and fisting his cock again. The power that hums through your body makes you see stars as he cries at the pain of having his hair yanked backward, and having your fingers press against the head of his weeping, pre-cum drenched cock.

“Oh, poor pathetic Deku,” you snarl despite the grin on your face, sweat drips down your temple, and you laugh. “Does your pathetic fucking cock need to cum? Do you need to cum while your Kaa-chan’s cock fucks you?”

“Y-Yes Kaa-chan!” Deku screams, his tongue falling from his mouth, his eyes dazed in his hysteria. “Yes, Kaa-chan! I want to cum on your cock, please let me cum on your cock!”

Your cunt throbs from your arousal and lack of stimulus, but the apparent slick in your lips that is slowly dripping down your thighs, makes your next train of thought seem worlds apart hot. The hand in his curls fists his hair harder, snapping Deku closer, making his back arch further. The hand around his cock pinches his cock head together, a pain you had discovered that never failed to get him to cum. And your hips, the hips that drove the Ground Zero dildo further into his tight, greedy asshole, slammed viciously and barbarically into his pretty little asshole.

Deku praises your cock again, his eyes fluttering shut as he cries for his Kaa-chan’s cock, and in a blind fit of victory, your lips press against his ear and whisper to him the truth.

“I’m actually fucking you with your Kacchan’s cock,” you admit, feeling Deku go rigid beneath you. “I know you know what I’m talking about, Deku. So yes, I bought it just to fuck you with it, and look! It’s Kacchan’s cock, but it's your Kaa-chan who’s making you feel so. good. with it!”

And with one last driving slam of Kacchans cock into Deku’s slutty, needy hole, you can feel his cock spasm within your hold, and the way his ass tightens beautifully around the dildo, and he collapses with a pitiful, pathetic: “Oh my god.”

Your hand is coated in his hot, heavy load of cum. You pull away from him, and you laugh, watching as Deku moves onto his back, his eyes fluttering with a million emotions as you bring your hand to your mouth and lick his musty cum clean from your hand.

“Now,” you cough, slipping the harness from your waist and thighs and climbing back onto his awaiting, still semi-hard cock. You moaned at the feeling of his cock hardening back within your crazy soaked cunt. “Kaa-chan wants you to suck your Kaa-chan’s tits, and then you’ll be rewarded for being. So. Good.”

His eyes swim with uncertainty before he blinks, his hips rutting up to meet your cunt, and his mouth latching onto your needy nipple.

“Anything for you, Kaa-chan.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Bonus!

Due to Bakugou calling on Izuku’s emergency-only phone, Bakugou had come over with an apology dinner made for the two of you. You sat at the table, Bakugou sitting in front of you, Izuku, to your side in the square table Izuku owned.

Bakugou was already frowning, his body language trying to hide the apparent surprise that went through him when Izuku opened the door and greeted him as ‘Bakugou-kun!’

Had you known his reaction would be that pathetic, you wouldn’t have bothered to accept his dinner. You would have sufficed with that moment being caught on camera instead.

But no, Izuku loved Bakugou’s cooking, and you were now sitting here, glaring at Bakugou, who was glaring right back at you.

However, you knew Bakugou wanted to understand why his childhood nickname had suddenly been abandoned, and you had strategically placed Izuku’s favorite drink near the empty seat. Closer to you than it was to Bakugou because you knew that asshole was quicker than most.

“Oh, Kaa-chan, do you mind passing me my drink?” Izuku asked before flushing at the realization of what he called you in front of Bakugou.

But Bakugou didn’t notice, how could he?

Because both of you had made for his drink, and you just managed to snatch it before Bakugou did as you watched in evil elation as Bakugou quickly placed two and two together. Handing the glass to Izuku, you smiled, as he stammered out an embarrassed thank you.

“Sorry, boys, I’m actually needed somewhere tonight,” you lie, rising to your feet as Bakugou’s eyes rage with something you can’t name but love nonetheless. “I’ll leave you two alone, I’ll be back!”

You don’t let Izuku’s embarrassed begs for you to say deter you, your fingers grabbing your boyfriend by the chin before kissing him deeply, shoving your tongue into his mouth for good measure as you look at the still, void Bakugou when you break away.

You don’t know what happens as you leave, but the way that Izuku’s less superior Kacchan snaps his name makes your toes curl with pleasure.

Oh, you really liked this.

#midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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zellerysworld · 3 years

Text

『 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 』

Sukuna x GN!Reader

WC: 6.7k

Tags: Angst, murder, reincarnation, heavy violence, language, suggestive themes, heavy trauma, mentions of genocide, origin story, slight soft sukuna

I rewrote this bitch three times trying to perfect it- and I’m still not 100% happy with it because there’s so many ways I wanted to write this. Plus I didn’t get the promotion at work so I just got depressed. anyways I wrote the story but @cqcophobiq requested a gender neutral reader. <3

A/N: Readers abilities are touching people to make them sleep, transfer memories, and see past (for those with DID, talk to the souls within the persons mind). They serves as a informant by going inside victims heads to look in their pasts for curses that were around them; informing teammates of location and grade level. They can also gain powers from whomever they touch for a short period of time.

Ex: Sukuna can give Malevolent Shrine to them for battle, but after one use/within five minutes, it vanishes. If they use powers that are harsh on the body, (domain expansions or strong cursed manipulation) they faint/get nose bleeds. *Reader only has abilities in modern times*

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Around 1000 years ago, you ventured out into the woods seeking to kill a god. 1000 years later, you are reincarnated so you may meet this god once again.

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Fear: that is all you felt while you watched the mass murderer known as Ryomen Sukuna walk throughout the same forest you were in. It took so long to hunt him down, and now the moment has finally come. You have trained for years to defeat the villain of your story, but his presence was more intimidating than you had anticipated.

He stopped to bend down, putting out a hand to stroke a sleeping fox. Surrounding the regular-looking male was a meadow filled to the brim with tall grass and flowers, hidden away by bamboo and birch trees. Everything looked so peaceful around Sukuna, as if he was a Dryad. ‘How could he look so peaceful?’ You thought to yourself. It also felt as if you were lied to, since most people told you he had facial marks and four arms, which he did not have.

It looked as if he were another human; that was until you flimsily attempted to move forward. Having been hiding within a large bush, you couldn’t see what was beneath you. And just like, a cracking sound emitted from the twig below you. You closed your eyes and rolled your shoulders back, whispering to yourself, “Oh fu-.”

Now, how exactly did you get yourself into this situation? And why were you in the middle of an uncharted forest trying to stalk Ryomen Sukuna? Well, it is a rather gruesome story for you to look back upon.

The Heian Age is at its peak in Japan, while Jujutsu sorcery is also at its peak as a ripple effect. (Many young children in this period began to claim they have “seen” curses.) Ryomen Sukuna was a young sorcerer, having attended the very school you attended. While amid his fourth and final year, and in your first year, he burned down almost every inch of the school alongside slaughtering over half of the staff and students.

You took it upon yourself to track him down with the intent to kill for revenge. Teachers that survived had entrusted you with information about him after learning of your plans. Granted most told you not to do it, but the ones that supported it told you information of his appearance, how he secretly practiced sacred and forbidden jujutsu techniques, and his unwavering strength. With every day that passes, Sukuna grows stronger at rates nobody can foretell.

So here you are, three years after the incident. The reason for why he did it is still unknown; But you trained to your breaking point for this moment to happen- having bled, cried, screamed, and thrown up countless times. Your classmates called you insane for thinking you could beat Sukuna, but none of their words mattered to you. Sukuna stole people from your life that you could never get back.

Now, back to your current situation. Sukuna shot his head up to the sound, his lips curving to reveal blades for teeth, “Myyyyyy Myyyyy!!! Do I have a challenger?” His voice stunned you, fear engulfing your mind as his body morphed into a four armed and nearly 8 foot tall being with black markings wrapped around his body. Although barely visible, Sukuna first saw your eyes that had such a curious wonder that was tinted with rage.

Before you could even take your bandages off to fight, he was behind you and holding your neck, “A jujutsu sorcerer, huh?”

Air left your lungs faster than anticipated, causing you to slightly panic. You closed your eyes, then leaned your neck over in an attempt to play dead, which worked but to only half of its extent. When your neck rolled to the side, Sukuna slightly loosened his grip. This gave you room to breathe before catching him off guard with a back-kick to his ribs.

The unexpected hit made his brows furrow, anger stirring in his stomach at your cleverness. When your clogs hit the ground, you took off running as if an army of samurai were in pursuit behind. And although you were fast, Sukuna was faster. The sound of his footsteps gave the warning that he was gaining up to you.

Logs and fallen tree branches were dodged by your legs as your jumped over them, Sukuna following behind. The sound of crunching grass as the demon-like man pursued you made the experience even more terrifying, knowing that with every step you took, he took two. There were so many sounds, making it harder to think with the already small amount of time given to you.

You made the judgement call to stop, believing that you could backhand him from behind by catching him off guard. However, it became apparent that you made a grave mistake the second two muscular elbows hit the left side of your waist. The feeling of your ribs cracking on both of sides of your waist when you slammed against the tree made you scream out in pain. Your eyes widened at having never witnessed strength such as his nor pain such as this.

Out of response to the pain, tears formed at the edges of your squinting eyes as your back slid against the tree. Sukuna approached you, cracking his fingers in excitement of killing another jujutsu sorcerer such as yourself. However, you had a trump card that was now in play.

You bit down on a piece of cloth that held the bandages on your left hand together. Ripping the bandages off with your teeth, Sukuna let out a menacing laugh, “You really think jujutsu can help you now?”

His left hand strangled your neck, pulling you upwards to be eye level with him. When Sukuna noticed that your orbs showed no fear, his brows furrowed in curiosity. Just seconds before he was going to snap your neck, both of your hands latched onto his arm. You forced a nerve connection, sending sounds of people screaming, children crying, and raging fires into his head.

The sudden sounds caused Sukuna to release you from his grip, “What-what Is this…?” He looked around, trying to see where the sound was coming from. You leaned against the tree while holding your left side, “How could you forget?” He looked down to you, his eyes widening at the realization of where the sounds came from.

“Those are the sounds of the people you killed!”

Sukuna froze, realizing that you were not just an ordinary jujutsu user. Catching him while he was still confounded, you put all your force into an aggressive headbutt. He stumbled back a few feet before growling at the dripping blood from his scalp. When he looked up, a smirked was smeared across his blood-stained face, “You’ll die here.”

His hands joined, making the symbol for a domain expansion spell. However, you temporary gained his powers after touching his arm a few moments ago. As he opened his mouth, you cut him off while bringing your hands together, “Domain Expansion!”

“What?”

Your eyes rolled back, “Malevolent shrine!”

The domain built around him, fear striking Sukuna’s mind at the sight of seeing you mimic his powers. His technique was too powerful for your body to handle though, causing you to stumble. You blinked twice before coughing up blood into your hands. Sukuna walked forward as the domain fell apart, his interest being piqued at how your powers work.

Looking up at Sukuna, blood fell from the crevices of your lips before you fell onto the ground. His powers completely defeated you from within, being too harsh on your body. When you hit the ground, all that was in your tunnel of vision was black. It felt like it was just a few minutes that you had been knocked out, but when you opened your eyes, the forest surrounding you was nearly pitch black.

“You snore.”

Hearing Sukuna’s voice, your body snapped up from the ground beneath you to find him sitting against an oak log. When you tried to use your hands to fight him, you quickly became aware that they were tied up. You huffed at the feeling of the rope while noticing the black kimono you wore had been taken off to reveal your white Cossack.

Sukuna’s lids opened to reveal crimson-colored eyes. In his current state, he was back to being inkless and having two arms. He glared at you with a sense of sternness, “Tell me how you did that.”

“Did what?” You snapped back, having no respect for him.

“Listen,” he stood and walked over to you, bending his knees down so his face would be in yours, “Only reason you are alive right now is because I say so. So, either tell me how you did it, or I’ll cut your hands off with my fingernails.” He sat down in front of you, crossing his legs and arms.

To be honest, death seemed better than having to deal with this situation. Before replying to him, you had to think if you really wanted to explain your powers. Either way around, you were going to die so it didn’t matter. Talking about your powers only delays your inevitable future. And it’s obviously been hours, so if help would have come, they were either killed by Sukuna or never came.

You sighed, leaning your head back before making eye contact with him. “My technique was used by ancient sorcerers; They call it ‘Somnium Nexum’.”

“I know all of the jujutsu techniques; how come I have never heard of yours?”

“Well, if you would shut the fuck up then I could explain.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at your disrespect, “Why do the generations become more disrespectful with each passing year?”

“Do you really have room to talk about disrespect?” You huffed, continuing, “My technique hasn’t been seen for hundreds of years now. It went extinct, until I was born that is. My hands… I use them to transfer memories to people, see memories of people, and temporarily steal people’s powers. That’s how I did it.”

“Those sounds were the people I killed. You were there that day?”

“Of course I was!” You shouted, anger filling your voice as tears formed at the edges of your eyes, “You killed people I loved! You ruined peoples lives…. WHY?! WHAT DID YOU GAIN?”

“I gained revenge.”

Silence fell between the two of you. The moon’s reflected light shined against your eyes as tears rolled down your flustered cheeks. Your lips parted to speak, but there were no words. Revenge? It didn’t make sense to you. What did all those people do to cause an anger such as his to exist?

Sukuna broke the silence, “If you run, I’ll kill you.” He leaned forward and reached a hand behind you, his lips being uncomfortably close to yours. Your thoughts closed at hearing a ripping sound, his hand pulling back.

“Look into my memories, and whatever questions you have will be answered. But then you’ll answer mine.”

You hesitated to move your hands, feeling fear in the back of your mind at how calm he was. Just a few hours ago, this man was trying to murder you in cold blood, but now he is acting… soft? It didn’t settle in your gut too well, but you had no other choice than to do what he says. Complying to his request, you raised your hand to rest the palm of it on his lower check and jawline.

“Close your eyes.” You commanded while closing yours.

He obediently closed them, letting the connection into his nervous system open into yours. The tears that were made at the thought of your dead classmates shifted towards tears of pain upon seeing Sukuna’s memories.

You watched from the background as jujutsu sorcerers stormed his childhood village and burned everything to the ground, both curses and humans alike. A young Sukuna was in the middle of it all, screaming for his mother as the fire surrounded him. From the fires, a sorcerer ran through and picked him up.

Sukuna screamed and kicked at the masked sorcerer. You noticed though, that the very badge that was embroidered onto your shirt was the same badge of the sorcerer carrying him.

When you turned to see where he was being carried, you noticed only the children were spared. You covered your mouth in disgust, seeing crying kids from ages of newborns to 5-year-olds being carried away. You watched a young Sukuna let out a loud screeching sound, black markings appearing on his face as his eyes turned red.

He sunk his teeth into the sorcerers’ shoulder and killed them, trying to run away before being caught by two other sorcerers who put him to sleep. One said through his mask, “This one is strong with cursed energy, he needs to be cleansed.”

You watched them carry him away. When you turned back around, you saw another memory of Sukuna at a slightly older age being tortured on a table as an instruction screamed out, “YOU ARE A DISGRACE!” Another memory appeared, the child being much older now as he sat in his room and communicated with a curse in its own language.

Memories upon memories flashed before your eyes of him training, talking to curses, and being tortured by humans. Then the memory that stained your mind of blood had appeared. The boy used his malevolent shrine against students and teachers alike, causing chaos with curses following behind him wherever he stepped.

Squinting to notice, you saw a pained look within his eyes as he killed the students that tried to fight him. He bent down to one and closed their eyes, “Humans have become the virus of this world. Jujutsu scholars are the creators of the virus.”

You came out of the link, speechless at everything you had just seen. Taking a deep breath, you looked into Sukuna’s eyes, “Why did they burn your village?”

He turned his neck to look away from your eyes, not wanting to be the person that breaks the truth to you. Although Sukuna didn’t know your name, he still felt an aching sensation at the bottom of his heart for you. There was finally someone else that he could tell of his secrets, but they were too painful. Yet he knew if he didn’t tell you, and instead killed you or forced you to go back, that you would never have a normal life anyways.

“Tell me, what’s your name?”

“Y/n L/n- but my name is not important. Tell me why they did that…”

“Y/n, do you know who your parents are?”

“Of course not. They sent me to the school when I was…”

“When you were what?”

Excruciating amounts of pain began to fill your heart. You saw the point he was making, and it stung your heart in an abundance of different ways. Everything around you seemed to disappear as you tried to remember who you were before attending this school. All that was found was blankness.

The early morning sky that beamed with stars of different shades seemed to become brighter as everything began to click. Nature surrounded you in this moment of harsh realization. It was comforting knowing that possibly a forest god was watching over you in the greens of their garden, but nonetheless painful.

You whispered with a cracking voice, “Why… Why did they tell us our parents sent us here…?”

“It was a coverup. Japan has become innovative these past two centuries, meaning out with the old and in with the new. Jujutsu sorcerers were falling behind, meaning they would eventually die out. So, they resorted to pillaging children. Although our fight was short, I can see that you have great strength and intelligence with your powers. You must have been a newborn when you were taken; otherwise, you’d remember.”

So many emotions ran through your mind all at once. Sorrow, pain, anger, rage, weakness, all of it. You hesitated, “So... -So, I never even had a chance?”

Sukuna looked into your eyes, “No.”

You gasped, feeling as if your lungs were collapsing while your breathing grew erratic. Everything you ever knew was a lie, and everything you were ever told was a lie. Any relationships you ever had with teachers was a lie, while any relationship you ever had with your classmates was fake. Sukuna saw how you struggled to take this information in, but he didn’t know how to make it easier for you.

‘Is there even an easy way out of this information?’ He thought to himself. Sukuna always knew everything around him was not real, so he couldn’t imagine the things you were feeling.

“Why didn’t… why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you try to find a way out and save everyone?”

Sukuna snapped back, “All of those kids are brainwashed beyond oblivion. Did you forget what you tried to do to me a few hours ago? If I were a normal person, you would have killed with that thing you did with your hands; And If I tried to tell people everything they ever knew was a lie, I would be dead.”

You slowly crawled backwards as he moved forward, “Do you think I caused all of that destruction alone? No. I had the help of curses, who are the only damn things that see humans for the shit they are! Over the years I have been out here alone, training and preparing myself for when I can defeat even the strongest of sorcerers.”

When he realized how uncomfortable you had become by his advancing, Sukuna moved back. “There was no helping them. The only reason I told you was because you would be forced to believe me.”

He was right. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Sukuna was right. They would all try to kill him if he told them what had known on all along. Humanity’s biggest fault will always be the fact that they are afraid of the unknown, and when someone tries to show them the truth of the unknown, they freak out in fear. The only reason you were not freaking out was because there was no unknown; you saw it all with your own eyes through his memories.

“Tell me, what are you going to do now?” He asked, slicing your thoughts in half.

That was a loaded question for the current situation, but it was a question that needed an answer. You cannot go back now, otherwise they would find out you know more than you should with how bad of a liar you are. For all they know, you are most likely dead right now and not worth looking for. You were just another slave to the elders’ horrific commands.

“I don’t know… Run away maybe? Get out the country while I can? But even then, sorcerers are all around the world. I would get caught and be killed eventually. Do the rest of the sorcerers around the world know about Japan’s doings?”

Sukuna scratched at his head, “I don’t know. I never tried to leave, but I was never bothered until now either.”

The sun began to rise, cracks of its light seeping through the forest trees as the night faded to the back of the forest. You bowed your head with a loud sigh, not knowing what your next move will be. Confusion filled your mind while the rising sun’s warmth worked to comfort you in this state of despair. With your emotions being thrown around like a tossed salad, the silence sounded so loud right now.

Sukuna broke the silence by hesitantly suggesting, “Stay here with me, y/n. Just for another day or two. I want to know more of these powers of yours. Maybe by then you’ll figure something out.”

You looked at him with such curious eyes, seeing him totally shift from the manic demon he was yesterday to this calm man who had a vengeful heart filled with pain. Crossing your arms, you asked with a sarcastic tone, “Where do you even live?”

“Are you suggesting I sleep in the woods like an animal?”

“Perhaps.”

He rolled his eyes while clicking his tongue, “Farther up in the mountains. I live by a hidden spring.”

You tried to stand up with Sukuna, leaning on the tree for support. He forgot that a rib or two of yours had been broken upon contact when fighting with each other earlier, making him cringe at remembering how quick he was to become defensive. “Here.” He turned around, getting on his knees. Sukuna motioned for you to get on his back, it being easier on your ribs for him to carry you this way.

Click here for a nice theme song. <3

Sukuna carried you to a log cabin he had built in the time he spent out here. For a few days, your aching body rested there as you thought of your next move. However, those thoughts eventually fled your mind. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. Time passed on as you stayed hidden away deep within the forest with Sukuna. Over time, his vengeance was forgotten with you at his side. All both of you wanted was to enjoy the peace of solitude together.

Everything had been so peaceful over the years. Sometimes you and Sukuna would bicker as lovers do, especially since you two were the only ones you talked to besides curses, but ultimately both of you were happy. That was until the world decided peace was never a real option for anyone in this violently terrifying world.

Morning dew clung onto the windows of the cabin you shared with your husband. It was the break of dawn as you awoke next to a sleeping Sukuna. He lowly grumbled at your movements, pulling you back into the bed by your waist. “What are you doing?” He quietly asked with a scruffy morning voice while hovering over you. Loose strains of hair covered your eyes, Sukuna moving them so he could have a better look at you.

You held onto the back of his neck with your bandaged hands, “I’m going to the springs for a quick wash.”

The shirtless man lightly kissed at your cheek, moving lower to your neck as he gripped onto your hips to keep you below him. As tempting as it was to stay in bed with him and enjoy some morning affairs, your bones ached from the hunting that was done the day before. With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the built man from your body as if he was a feather.

He let out a loud groan while moaning, “I should have never trained you to become that strong.”

“Oh shush, I’ll be back soon you whiney child.”

You put on a long, white yukata before heading outside to greet the horses you and Sukuna had tamed. “Good morning Ryko,” you sang while petting the horse’s neck before mounting her. You rode just a few minutes upwards towards the east, where the hidden springs lied. Winter was beginning to fade as spring slowly made its way into season, so hunting is hard for you and Sukuna.

Usually in the winter months is when your back and sides ache from your fight all those years ago with him. The best way for you to sooth your pains is to relax in the warm springs that nature provided in the mornings or late afternoons.

Upon reaching the springs, you jumped off Ryko and led her towards a tree to keep her tied at. However, you began to feel uneasy at how Ryko kept neighing and trying to back away from the tree. “Shhh, girl. Nobody is here.”

The sound of other horses made you eat your words. Your eyes widened as you turned, jumping out of the way at the sound of a metal mechanism clicking and firing. Ryko was shot in the head, her body falling over and bleeding out in the snow. Panic filled your body, being caught completely off guard. What were they shooting with and why was it so fast? When you looked up, you noticed the people on the horses had the same symbol of your previous school.

“Son of a bitch…,” you spoke, furrowing your brows at the sight of them. You had no weapons on you, forgetting to bring your bow and arrow for long distance defense. From the bottom of your lungs, you screamed out, “SUKUNA!!”

As soon as you said the name, the sorcerers began to panic, “She said his name!”

“Quick, kill her before he comes! She must be a witch!”

“What if he kills us?!”

“JUST DO IT!”

You were already on your feet, taking off as fast as you possibly could. As much as you wanted to fight with the physical strength you had gained over the years, you knew the helplessness of your abilities. Even if you could outsmart them and bruise their physical appearance, you were no match for 5 sorcerers with guns all at once with your jujutsu technique. You may be a powerful jujutsu sorcerer alongside Sukuna, but long-range fighting was never an option with your technique.

Speeding into the distance with all you had, the freezing temperature of the snow against bare human feet was only making it worse for you. You had hope that you could run into the woods just in time, but there is no shift in what a speeding bullet does to a human body.

While a few minutes away, the first shot had Sukuna on his feet. His eyes flung open, the nerve-wracking sound of a weapon he didn’t recognize that is not too far caused him to panic. His tattoos appeared as he walked out into the snow barefoot with only palazzos on. He began running into the direction of the sound, knowing he would be faster on foot than on horseback.

From the distance, Sukuna heard his name being screamed out by your voice, which struck fear into his heart. The scream was followed by another shot not even 30 seconds later. He picked up his speed, tears forming at the edges of his rageful crimson eyes.

When he appeared from the branches, the sorcerers were taking off. As much as he wanted to pursue them, he needed to find you first. Before he could even see you, the stench of blood coming from his left filled his nose. He turned, and everything seemed to go into slow motion. He ran at your side, seeing you struggle to breathe from the bullet wound in your chest.

“Y/N, Y/N SAY SOMETHING!” He screamed out, falling onto the ground next to you. He held you up, putting his hands over the wound to try to stop the bleeding, “Come on, come on stay with me. It’s okay, it’s fine-“

“Ry-Suk…I…,” you struggled to breathe, blood flowing out of your chest faster than Sukuna could react too. His tears fell onto your cheeks as his hands became covered in your blood. The white Yukata you were wearing was turning an awful shade of red.

He pulled your hand up to his lower cheek, closing his eyes so you can start a link between him and you. When it started, you transferred everything you had seen to his memories so he would know what happened without you having to speak. When he opened his eyes, your hand fell from his cheek as your body quickly lost energy.

Sukuna held you in his now bloodied arms, rocking you back and forth while whispering, “It’s alright, you’re fine. Look at me, I’m right here.” He watched as you slowly lost consciousness, your eyes losing the spark of curiosity in them that he adored.

You blinked a few times, each time your eyes getting heavier and harder to keep open. You gave him a meek smile and croaked out, “When the sun rises again, will you find me?”

Rapid tears fell from both your eyes and his as he leaned his head into your chest, “I’ll find you.”

You looked into the sky with lazy eyes before shutting them for the final time. Your neck fell backwards, and your breathing stopped; Sukuna felt your heart’s final beat. Feeling your soul leave your body, he let out a loud scream into your chest that could be heard from miles away.

He sobbed into your cold body, only to lift his head with a newfound rage that has set his body on fire. His tearstained face spoke millions of words, all of them meaning the same thing: destruction. He laid your body against Ryko, kissing your forehead and whispering, “I’ll be back.”

Standing up with your blood staining his hands and torso, he morphed into his full form. His lips spread into a devilish smile as he ran his hands through his hair. His speed was almost at light, taking off into the forest while chasing the horse tracks in the snow.

The sorcerers rode at a fast pace, but it wasn’t fast enough. Sukuna passed them up, turning on his heels to face the oncoming horses. When they got close enough, he raised both of his hands and grabbed onto the horses’ heads, pushing them down into the ground. Both the horses and sorcerers riding them died from the impact, striking fear into the other sorcerers following behind them.

“TURN, NOW!” One yelled out before their head was ripped from their body by Sukuna’s hands. He called out with a demonic look in his eyes, “Don’t be afraid to come out my friends!” Curses of all grades came out from behind trees, sending everyone into a panic.

“SPREAD OUT!” A female sorcerer yelled out, making Sukuna turn. He ran into the horse, sending her and the horse flying into a tree. She let out a loud scream of pain as the horse landed on her legs, rendering her powerless. Sukuna approached her, bending down to be eye level with her as she panicked.

He tilted his head, “The person you happened to kill was my partner. And a partner is a man’s peace, but when they are taken, they become a man’s rage.” He grabbed her hair, ripping her body in half. “If they cannot live, nobody can! Women, children, and men alike! IT’S GOING TO BE A MASSACRE!”

Curses killed the sorcerers left and right, slaughtering both them and their horses. Ryomen Sukuna has died, but the king of curses has been born. Curses obeyed his every command in fear of his jujutsu techniques and inhumane abilities. The beginning of his world domination had just begun…

Over a thousand years has passed since that day, which brings Sukuna to the present. Yuji was in conversation with Megumi and Nobara, while Sukuna was off wondering around in Yuji’s head. However, a certain name caught his attention.

“Yeah! I heard they use an ancient technique called ‘Somnium Nexium’, it’s only been seen a handful of times in the last few hundred years.” Nobara chanted while walking with her friends.

Sukuna turned his head at the sound, awakening on Yuji’s face, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Sukuna, go back!” Yuji yelled, groaning at the annoying curse.

He snapped back, “Oh shut the hell up. I heard Somnium Nexium.”

Megumi spoke, “There’s a new student. They use that power.”

“I bet your old ass has seen it before,” Nobara laughed.

Sukuna growled, “Matter of fact I have, and this brat could probably kill all of you with just one hand.”

Nobara’s shoulders shot up at his words, while Megumi cringed at the fact he’s most likely right. Yuji was just interested in getting to see them like the others though. However, the day was near its end, and everyone was heading into their rooms for the night. Yuji might have slept like a baby, but Sukuna stayed up in his mind all night.

He wanted to believe there was a possibility that it could be you, but from what the kids said, other people have been seen using the same ability. Wanting to dismiss the idea, Sukuna tried to not think on it and instead walk around Yuji’s head to annoy him, but that failed.

Night faded into day as the stars kissed the sky good morning. Another day began, and nothing was out of the usual. Just Sukuna being pissed he’s still in Yuji’s body after all of this time and training per usual.

Yuji made his way out of the dormitories after getting dressed, heading outside to see where Megumi was. He was also hoping to run into the new student so he could get to brag to Nobara that he meant them first. While walking down the outside corridor, Yuji pulled out his phone to text the group chat. In the midst of typing, he bumped into a student wearing a navy Hakama with a black kimono, the traditional sword training outfit for students.

For those who enjoy some theme music.(again hehe)

“Oh sor- Wait a second, you must be the new student! I’m Yuji Itadori.” He quickly bowed, giving you a large smile. Sukuna snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing Yuji’s thoughts when running into you; He hastily said within his mind, “Enchain!”

The sun took its place a tad higher in the sky to where it beamed against you. Your skin had a warm tone to it as the sun reflected into your eyes to create a small glint. Bowing your head as Sukuna took over Yuji’s body, you raised your head with closed eyes and smiled, “I’m Y/n L/n.”

When you opened your eyes, Yuji’s body had switched into Sukuna’s. It startled you before remembering that he was Sukuna’s vessel; yet it also felt as if you have meant Sukuna before. “You must be Sukuna. I feel honored that the king of curses took over Yuji just to see me,” you said with tremendous amounts of sarcasm.

Sukuna was speechless, his breathing going shaky at the sight of you. “Is it really you?”

You raised a brow while crossing your arms, “What are you talking about?”

He walked forward, wanting to get a closer look at your facial features. However, him walking closer caused you to back up out of discomfort. Your back hit against the railing of the wooden pathway, making you nervous. You snapped with a serious tone while ungloving your hands behind your back, “What do you want?!”

There was no response, just wide eyes, and a wide mouth. “Hey!” You yelled, but there was no response. Out of fear, you pulled your hand out and tried to grab his wrist to show something to scare him, but he already knew your move. Sukuna caught you by the wrist, then examined it to see if it was the same hand you had before.

Your eyes widened at how he knew what you were going to do, making fear begin to take over your body. “Don’t be afraid,” he spoke while moving your hand to his lower cheek. “Just… try to remember me.” So many questions ran throughout your mind, such as how did he know that people’s faces are what she touches? Either way, you were too afraid to decline what he was implying, so you closed your eyes at the same time as him.

The connection opened, allowing you to go into his memories. You walked around his mind, seeing yourself from his eyes whenever you first meant him over 1000 years ago. The memories flashed before your eyes, not understanding why you see yourself and how that was possible. Every bitter, sweet, intimate, aggressive, happy, and sad moment he ever had with you flashed before your eyes.

Colors you had never even seen before flashed past your eyes, showing you every detail of every moment you ever experienced with Sukuna. You saw a memory of yourself holding a bow and arrow, aiming it at a deer from far in the forest. When you took the shot, it struck the deer into the side.

You relaxed your shoulders, sighing in relief at making the hit. Sukuna watched with his arms crossed, “There’s so many ways that I love you, but by far my favorite way to love you is to watch you.”

With the roll of your eyes and a small smirk, you blushed and playfully punched his shoulder, “Let’s go get our dinner.”

Sukuna “loved” you? The sensations your body felt were foreign, making you feel nervous. There were moments where he held onto your hand while taking a walk through the forest, followed by other moments of him training with you in meadows. The moments you would hug his bare torso would turn into moments of intimacy, while moments of petty arguments would turn into moments of him holding you.

Love was the only thing you could feel from these memories. It was love that drove him to commit his crimes, and it was love when he would sit alone and ponder on what he’d do if he ever saw you again. He imagined that he would hug you tighter than he ever did before, destroy the world with you, and tell you everything he didn’t get to tell you before.

A squeezing sensation pained your heart, making you become so overwhelmed that you ripped away from the link. Sukuna looked into your eyes, seeing that curious look he saw in your eyes all those centuries ago when you first meant him in the forest. Shaking with anxiety, you moved forward to slowly wrap your arms over his body. He followed into the embrace, squeezing your back with his muscular arms while crying into your shoulder.

It felt unreasonable to fall into being the person you were in a past life, but you felt all the things he felt for you back then. Seeing his memories opened so many things in your life, when all along you thought you were just some regular jujutsu sorcerer who is the new kid at this school. In truth, you were never normal; seeing his memories just proves that. You grew up having dreams as a child that were always too blurry to see anything, but looking back you now understand that those weren’t dreams; They were your past.

When you closed your eyes, everything in your mind went blank. Upon opening them, they looked the same but had a slight change of hue that was barely noticeable. You pushed Sukuna away from you, starting to feel your old memories flood back in. He looked at you with a confused expression, not understanding what you were doing until you grabbed his face.

Your hands held his cheeks as you examined his eyes, “Sukuna? Is it really you?” You moved his face to see all the angles of his structure, trying to see if this was him. “Oh…,” There was hesitation in your eyes before tears began to fall from them, “You found me…” Sukuna pulled you back into the tight embrace of each other’s arms, holding onto one another like the world is falling apart around you.

From behind the corner, Megumi and Nobara watched with worried looks painted across their face. She whispered, “I feel like something bad just happened.”

There was rage within you, feeling your insides ache at the memory of how you died coming back to you. You were still the same person before gaining your memories back, but now enlightened of who you really were. Sukuna pulled back from the hug, looking beyond your eyes and into your soul. He could see the hungry look of vengeance within you.

Sukuna felt his time nearing its end as Yuji was fighting to come back in. He quickly held onto your shoulders with a crazed look in his crimson eyes, “Y/n, in due time we will take our revenge. Me and you, we will destroy the world.”

The next time the sun rises for Sukuna will be the last time it rises for the world.

⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈

#anime #yuji itadori #nobara #megumi #jjk ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #gn!reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #manga #Jesus Christ this took a while #romance #tragedy

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

Text

Old Habits (Warren Worthington x Reader)

So I was digging around in my old files and I found this from a few years ago. I’m sure I published it somewhere once but I have no idea where. Either way, the writing isn’t too bad so I thought some readers here may enjoy it.

Before, when you originally met Warren, you had never had an issue with reaching out and grabbing his wings if he tried to march away from you. It had become a habit.

There would be an argument over something inconsequential and both of you would scream and shout like children. Warren would realise that his temper was getting out of control and try to stalk away from the fight before it got out of control. You would snatch a fistful of his feathers or the edge of a wing; anything that was within range was ample gain. It never hurt him but he stopped moving due to the sensation. Then he would turn around and kiss you until your lips were bruised and you couldn’t breathe properly.

This time…

You had been eternally grateful to Charles Xavier for bringing Warren back despite all his previous actions and your heart belonged to whoever had saved his life. When you had seen him walking through that portal, you had sold yourself on the notion that you would never be seeing him again. A bitter reality without the white angel wings that you had spent hours wrapped in.

The fight had been inconsequential really. Something about his sulking and yelling at anybody who tried to get close to him.

But now you withdrew your hand as quickly as you reached out.

Warren still spun around to look, the metal feathers screeching against the walls as he did so. Instead of kissing you, his eyes fell on your bloody hand and he reached for it with tentative hands. “I…” his words died in his throat.

You met his eyes with a clouded expression and sighed. “Sorry,” you said. “I forgot…” Your eyes fell on the huge metal wings and you sighed. “I didn’t think that through. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Warren said. “No, you shouldn’t have had to think about it in first place.” Unlike the feathered version, these wings made a horrendous noise when they bristled and even he winced at the sound. “Just go and get somebody to look at that.” And he stormed back into his temporary room, slamming the door far too loudly behind him.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. Charles had approached you to see if you could possibly fix the situation and maybe convince Warren to relax a little more in the mansion. His end goal obviously being to offer the angelic mutant a permanent place to stay.

Stomach churning, you hurried down the stairs to the nearest mutant that could heal your hand or at least somebody who knew basic medical skills.

Two stitches and a little bit of healing later, you were sitting in your own room and staring down at your bandages. While you had been standing up there, it hadn’t hurt at all but now it was burning like fire. You rubbed it gently and sighed. Warren had always been self-sabotaging. At this point, shutting you out could almost be classified as a hobby of his.

So eventually – at an hour that any reasonable person would be asleep at – you climbed out of bed and marched over to the room to quiet your wailing mind. If you didn’t know Warren’s self-destructive tendencies you would have presumed it was too late.

But you had lived with the man before.

You didn’t bother knocking. You knew that Warren would have pretended he didn’t hear you. So you counted on him forgetting – or purposefully – not locking the door.

“I’m tired of this,” you said when Warren finally noticed you and removed the headphones that were blaring rock music so loudly that you could hear them from across the room. You walked over and sat on an untouched desk, watching the winged mutant carefully. “Every day, you make me sit and watch you turn all that anger and hatred inwardly and I can’t do anything about it. I feel useless when it comes to you. Like there’s nothing I can do to help.”

“Help?” he scoffed. “Help what?”

“You.”

He rolled his eyes and sat up on the bed, those metal feathers screaming a symphony as they were dragged across the wall. “I don’t need your help,” he said. He glanced at your bandaged hand. “Look what happens when you try. I’m fine. They said that my feathered wings will grow back soon and then I’ll be able to get as far away from this fucking place as possible.”

“I want to stay.”

“Then stay.”

You gave a forced laugh. “And here I thought you knew me well enough to know that there isn’t a chance that you would leave without me following.”

Warren crossed his arms and his wings puffed up as he attempted to become more intimidating. It would work on most people. Not you. “Nobody likes codependent twits,” he grumbled. “But then again, it’s not my problem if you want to chase me around the country like some lost poodle. If you get killed, I don’t want anybody blaming it for me.”

“It’s not… alright, no, I’m not rising to that,” you said firmly. “No matter how often you insult me, I’m not going to leave and you know that by now. Warren, won’t you at least consider staying here? There are others who –“

“Joined forces with an ancient evil and attempted to bring about the end of the world because they were offered shiny wings then almost died and had to be saved by their enemy out of pity. Just so many of those assholes running around that I can barely even walk without seeing one.” His hair was falling into his face now but he didn’t seem interested in doing anything about it. “But they don’t count if they switched sides during the actual battle.”

“You were unconscious the majority of the battle.”

“Thank you for reminding me. I wasn’t aware.”

You sighed and reached out to move his hair away from his eyes. It said something that he didn’t move away despite the glare he was sending in your direction. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be able to rest for a little while until you got back onto your feet?” you asked. “I’ve been talking to some of the people here and they’re all friendly if you give them a chance.”

“I don’t see any weapons attached to your back that are constantly hurting people you actually care about,” he noted.

“My hand was my own fault,” you repeated. You stood up and moved closer, reaching the uninjured hand past his head and resting it gently on the metal of his feathers. “See? I’m being careful now and it’s not getting me hurt. If I had taken a few more seconds to think it through, I wouldn’t have grabbed your wing out of habit. But you said they’ll go back to being normal soon.”

“Apparently,” he said. “Some of them have fallen off but they’re meant to do that. What would you do if they stayed metal? You’d have to start finding your own beds instead of curling up next to me constantly. Something tells me you won’t find these wings ‘comforting’.”

A phrase you had always used when speaking about his wings and it hurt to hear him spit it with such bitterness in his tone. It had always been something genuine to you. “They probably won’t keep me as warm as the normal feathers,” you admitted. “But I don’t doubt that I could grow used to them and love them as much as I adored the originals.”

He scoffed. “Always a fucking optimist. Even when I have tattoos that probably will never fade etched into my face.”

“I’m not always an optimist,” you said. “When you disappeared into that cage fighting thing for months without telling me and then came back with your wing fried to a crisp, I was so worried that I thought I would vomit. I lost countless hours due to nightmares about waking up and finding you dead or missing again.”

“And then you did.”

“I was too late,” you said. “No matter what you said, I knew that your wings were making you distressed and I wanted to help but I didn’t know how. If I had figured out how to fix things sooner then there wouldn’t have been a reason for you to go with that asshole.”

Warren just glared at you and then flicked his bedside lamp off and lay down on his side. It used to hurt his wings when he slept like that but you were unsure that the metal felt anything. Either way, you lay your hand on his shoulder temporarily and then took the hint to leave the room. There was nothing else for you to say or do.

Almost a week passed where you only opened the door to throw random food and drink items at Warren where he was pretending to be asleep. Sometimes he would mumble something and other times he would continue to ignore you. You took the bandage off a few days later. It was something Warren undoubtedly noticed but he didn’t say anything until the day you opened the door to find everything strewn across the floor in such a state of disarray that you flinched.

“What’s the problem?” you asked.

Warren glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and muttered something about not having any shirts that weren’t torn to shreds by his new wings. Which later led to you going shopping and returning with a bunch of new shirts with cuts in the back for the new wings. It took you a while and he grumbled under his breath when you dumped them on the floor but you didn’t say anything.

The charade continued day in and day out but you weren’t deterred. You waited patiently for Warren with a well-learned routine. This had happened many times before. A waiting game that you had perfected over many years of worrying about the angelic mutant who held so much of your attention and your heart.

You walked through the door with a milkshake in hand when he was busy plucking the metal feathers off his wings. Silently, you placed it down and settled cross-legged behind him on the bed to help him peel off the shedding metal over the unreachable areas.

It came off easily and you happily spotted some of the soft, white feathers peeking out from beneath the metal. You ran your fingers happily over it and smiled. They would be returning soon.

“You’re going to need to preen these daily while they’re growing out,” you said. You didn’t expect an answer but you said it with the knowledge that you would be the one to do it. “Otherwise they’re going to be crooked and then you won’t be able to fly properly.”

Warren’s feathers fluttered slightly as he turned around to face you. They didn’t sound quite as horrible when they brushed against the wall now and there were fewer grooves than before. Deep scratch marks already tore up the bedframe and one of the bedside lamps had disappeared a week ago. “Just leave.”

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Why do you bother?”

Your fingers brushed the doorknob and you shrugged. “It’s just force of habit now.”

#x-men #one shot #archangel #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii #x-men apocalypse

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