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brainemptynothoughts · 7 months

Text

Part 2 of Strawberry Shenanigans

Part 1 here!

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple pocky game between you and Gojo. You were both bored and Gojo was the one who came up with the idea in the first place. It was a simple game meant to cure boredom but how did you end up straddling Gojo's lap, his arms around your waist as he stares at you with those beautiful blue eyes, a seductive look on his face!?!

warning: 18+ minors avoid!

tags: Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Fluff and Smut, Lap sex

word count: 3684

For some reason, Satoru's face was smushed into your chest. You couldn’t see his face, only his white hair. You could feel him breathing, his hands were wrapped snugly around your waist, pulling your body into his.

“So how long do you plan to use me as your living teddy bear?” You asked Satoru in amusement.

“As long as you permit me to,” he yawns, pressing his face even deeper into your chest. “Tiddy soft and warm, don’t ever wanna let go of ya.”

You chuckle, playfully swatting at his shoulder. “Pervert. Well you need to let go of me soon, I need to go take a shower soon.”

“Gimme a couple more minutes then we go shower together,” Satoru replied sleepily.

“Hmm? I don’t recall you inviting you to shower with me.”

“We need to conserve water, don’t you know how expensive water bills are nowaday?”

“That rich coming from a guy who takes 2 hours in the bathtub. Doesn’t your clan pay your water bills anyways?”

“No comment. Hey babe?”

“Yea?”

“Let's have sex.”

“What.”

“Right here, right now. I want to take you now,” Satoru peels himself away from your chest and stares at you. His blue eyes resembled sad puppy eyes but you could see the hint of mischief sparkling.

“Yo….you haven’t even taken me on a date yet!” You stuttered quite flustered by what he said.

“I'll make it up to you. Please?” He pouted even harder.

"I... I... I..." It was getting incredibly hard to look at Satoru. So you turn your head to the side trying to hide your embarrassed face. Normally whenever Satoru pouts, you had to resist the urge to punch him but the request he just made had you seriously consider it.

Satoru gently puts his hands on your face and makes you turn to look back at him. “I know you want it”. He leans into your ear and whispers, “I heard you masturbating, whimpering my name.”

You choke, your face flushed. You have never ever been so embarrassed like this before. If only the ground would swallow you now. "N-No way...I w-wasn't that loud…”

Satoru tilts his head back and lets out a loud laugh, his hands letting go on your face. He wheezes very hard, you could hear him gasping for air. His head tilted to the side, a teasing look on his face. “I was kidding! Made a guess, damn that so cute.” He grins evilly at you, “Soo what you were thinking of when you masturbated to me huh? Me taking you in my bed while I whisper sweet things into your ear? Or maybe…you prefer it rough and hard as I fuck you stupid against a wall?”

Sirens were going off like crazy in your head. Oh you were so mortified. You couldn’t even jump out the window to escape since you were on the ground floor. Heart thumping crazily hard, you became aware of how heavily you were sweating. You catch a glimpse of your reflection, seeing how red your face was.

“I did the same too. Thought of under me moaning my name while I watch my cock slide in and out of you. Thought a lot more nasty stuff too. Want me to describe them?” You were too speechless to say anything.

“Sorry, did I tease you too much?” Satoru puts his head against your forehead. “If I say anything more, I think you will explode.”

You draw a heavy breath mustering strength to regain yourself, “Well no shit.”

“Ahh there your pretty voice again. I wonder how it will sound like screaming my name?” He smirks, eyes fluttering at you.

“SATORU!!!”

“Ok heh I stop.” His teasing face shifted to a more serious look. “You don’t understand what you do to me. Do you know how many times I jacked off to you, wishing I had the real thing? Your so fucking pretty, it hurts.”

“Well,” you drawl out, “You had the real thing on your lap now. Whatcha gonna do?”

“Hmm,” Satoru pretends to be deep in thought. “I watch those pretty tits of yours bounce as I fuck you on my lap, how bout that?”

You nodded, “Ok” whimpering as you said it. You couldn’t help but feel aroused, clenching your thighs against Satoru's waist. He moans and grips your thighs. “Oh the things I'm going to do to you, pretty girl. You're gonna be screaming my name all night.”

Your heart beats fast, as you mentally prepare yourself for what gonna happen. Satoru licks your lips, you moan softly, and his tongue slips into your mouth. It was a gentle kiss as Satoru takes his time exploring your mouth. His tongues entwined with yours. For a long time he kissed you and the two of you were lost in each other's lips. His lips left yours and he looks at you fondly, adoration in his eyes. He looks so gentle, the moonlight bathing over him. His white hair resembles the clouds. His eyes draw in you like the deep blue of the ocean. You were drowning in him, all that you think of was him. At that moment, he didn’t look like the world strongest sorcerer. He was just an ordinary man who looked at you like you were his everything.

You tugged at his white tee. “Off,” you softly demanded. Satoru removes his tee in one swift movement. You could see his abs flexing, his chest moving up and down. You traced his muscles and scars, admiring the man under you. He was sculpted like a Greek god, leaving you breathless. You glanced at his face, it was slightly turning red. He was breathing heavily. Your eyes catch his, a gaze that nearly has you melting. Your eyes left his to look at his pecs. They were much bigger than you thought. You lightly squeezed them. You whisper faintly, “Damn your mantiddies are huger than mine.”

Satoru blinks looking dumbstruck before letting out a laugh. “Way to ruin the mood, babe.” He sweeps his hair back in a very attractive way. “As much as I love to take my time enjoying you, I’m so hard it hurts.”

“Eh?” You feel something hard poking your thighs. Was that always there before or were you so focused on enjoying Satoru's body that you miss that? Your head whiplashes to look at Satoru, your cheeks feeling red and heavy. Satoru grinds against you and you let out a choke as you feel his bulge. His hand takes yours and he places your hand on his bulge. Your eyes shot wide open. His hand enveloping your forcefully made your hand squeeze his erection. It felt big and hot. Your hand jerks away as you stare at Satoru feeling aroused.

“If you keep touching me like that, I’m going to cum soon. I rather cum you inside you. Here what gonna happen. I’m going to take off your clothes ok, baby gurl?” You nodded really hard in response, eager for Satoru touches.

“That my girl,” he whispers seductively. His hands unbuttons your blouse, one button at a time. It felt like time had slowed down, you focused on yours and Satoru breathing. Your blouse now fully unbuttoned, your chest revealing a light blue bra. Satoru stares at your chest for a moment. “Is that the lingerie set, I saw you staring at it through the window and made fun of you, the other day we were shopping together?”

“Yes…” you shyly admit. This particular piece caught your eyes as its blue and white hues reminded you of Satoru. “Do you like it?”

“Fuck yea I do. Fuck, you look so incredibly fucking sexy right now. How did I ever get someone as beautiful as you to like me back?” He murmurs. He yanks your bra down and squeezes your chest. You let out a groan. His hands grope at your chest, playing with it. His thumb traces your areola, brushing against a nipple. You shivered and whimpered. “So sensitive,” Satoru murmurs. His tongue teasing your breasts as he did a short lick on a nipple, your hips bucking as he did that. “Please…” You cried out. Your hands are placed on Satoru chest to support yourself.

“Please what? Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want, darling,” he teases as continue to trail his tongue on your chest. “Please play with my chest….” you said quietly, slightly embarrassed. “As you wish, Princess.” He licks at your nipple and takes it into his mouth. His mouth feels warm and wet as you bite back a moan. He gently sucks at the bud. You feel his other hand teasing your other nipple. Satoru releases your nipple from his lips only to suck on it hard. While he does that, he pinches the other nipple. He releases your nipple with a pop and repeats to the other nipple. He does this for a few minutes and you could feel yourself getting even wetter.

You couldn’t help but grind yourself on his leg. Satoru notices this and presses his leg into your crotch. You cry out his name as his leg rubs against your crotch. His hands lightly tugs at both of your nipples. You feel a shudder coursing through your entire body. You grab hold of Satoru shoulders as you feel yourself melting in pleasure. He pinches your nipples hard and that when you feel yourself cumming. You let out a mewl as you cum over Satoru jeans. Satoru assists you through this as he watches your orgasm with a drunk look in his eyes. You pant feeling overstimulated as he continues to play with your chest.

“Nggh…Toru too much..” you whined. You felt teary and drool from your mouth. Satoru's hands were just too good. His hands reluctantly let go of your chest. “You feeling ok? Do you need a break before we continue?” He looked worried, thinking he may have teased you too much. “Mhm I’m fine. Don’t you dare stop.”

Satoru moves his hands down your hips stopping at your skirt. He hikes your skirt up to your waist and lets out a groan seeing the matching blue underwear to the bra. “You look good enough to eat,” he murmurs appreciatively. He looks fondly at the stockings you were wearing. “I’m so glad I brought you those.” He hooks his finger under your stocking, draws it back, and lets it snack back against your leg. You jerked as he did that. Your hand moves to take the stockings off but his hand stops you. “Keep them on.”

He thumbs at your underwear, his large hand gently cupping your crotch. “Damn you're already so wet and we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. You're such a dirty girl.” He moves to take off your underwear and put them in his pocket. “Hey! I like that one.” You click your tongue at him. “I’m keeping this as a souvenir. I buy you more underwear in the future,” Satoru purred.

You feel the cold air hitting your cunt. Satoru slides his fingers between your lips. He parts apart your folds and lets out a whistle, admiring your cunt. You let out a whine hiding your face behind your hands. He lightly flicks at your clit. “Oiii no hiding that gorgeous face of yours or you don’t get to cum.” You reluctantly did as he said.

He teasingly sips a finger across your slit, dipping it in and withdrawing it just as quickly. “My look at how wet you are.” He shows you his finger covered in your arousal. He licks his finger. “Mhm you taste so good but I guess I will eat you out another day.” Your stomach tightens, witnessing such a scene.

Satoru slowly eases his ring finger into your cunt, knuckle deep. You were already so wet, he inserted another finger. “Damn your tight,” he sensually said. His fingers pushed in and out of you. He took his time dragging his fingers against your walls. The only sounds you heard were wet sloppy noises of Satoru fingering you. He kisses your collarbone to distract you from the pain. As he finger you, he hit a sensitive part of your walls and you jerked hard, trembling. He raises his eyebrow, “Oh?” His fingers curl around that spot and you let out a breathy whine. “A-ah! That feels good…”

“Is that so?” His fingers left your cunt, only to shove it back in, hitting your g-spot. You made a strangled noise. His fingers start to move faster and harder. He starts at a brutal pace, scissoring you intensively. It felt so good, you felt yourself shaking all over. Just as you felt like you were about to climax, Satoru pulled his fingers away from your cunt. “Wh-why did you stop?!” You looked at him with teary eyes, angry that he denied you your pleasure. “Just wanted to see your reaction lol.”

“You- !” Whatever you were about to say disappears, as Satoru pinches your clit hard. You moan and glanced at him angrily. He cups your chin, “You should see how cute you are right now. Watery eyes,” he drags this thumb over your lips, “Drooling. Nipples hard,” as he captures your nipples with his fingers before letting go. He dips his fingers into your folds, “This pussy all wet for me. Such a beautiful sight.”

You shiver at his words but still pissed at him from stopping you cum. You take his hand and lead it to your cunt. “Toru. Please. I am begging you. Let me cum or else the next time I will tie you up and put a cock ring on you.”

Satoru gasps then grins evilly. “Oya oya oya. So you're saying there gonna be a next time?” You realized you fucked up and just gave Satoru ammunition to tease you even more. “I take that as a promise. But it will be you tied up with a vibrator inside your pussy.”

“Wha-?” You choked on your words as Satour thrusts his fingers back inside your cunt. He feels you tighten around his fingers and let out a moan. Another finger plays with your clit. The angles his wrist is going at make you nearly see stars. His hands reach for a nipple and pinches it. “Cum for me,” he softly demanded. You feel waves of pleasure rippling over your body as you cum hard. Satoru doesn’t stop thrusting his fingers into you, he just thrust even faster. By the time you stop cumming, you try to buckle your hips away from Satoru fingers. It was just too much. You felt so sensitive. Satoru fingers left your cunt and swears your own arousal all over your folds.”

You decided you were done with all of Satoru teasing. So you grabbed his belt and pulled it towards you. Satoru jerks against you as he looks at you with surprise. His forehead nearly hits yours as you stare straight into your eyes. “Gojo Satoru, if you don’t put your dick in me right now I swear I’m going to break your Digimon console!!”

His eyes widened, “Please don’t. Do you know how much time I spent on that?!” He bites back what he was going to say next as you look so mad at him, he was fearing for his Digimon. “Ok..babe. No worries. I make sure you experience the best dicking down of your life!” He quickly takes off his belt and pulls down his jeans. He slides down his boxers. Fuck. You stared at his dick. Ok wow. That was a lot bigger than you thought it was. “Admiring my dick hmm? I can’t wait to put it into you. I need to hear you scream.” He pulls out his wallet from his pocket. You see him pull out a condom. You raise your brow. Did you saw wrong or was that condom labeled “Extra Large”? He smirks, “Always carried one around me just in case there was ever an opportunity to fuck you.” He pulls on the condom on his dick. “I take responsibility if anything happens.”

You could let out a whimper, “Please…put it in me already.” His hands gently grabbed your waist and directed it over the tip of his cock. You gripped Satoru's shoulders tightly. “Let me.” You slowly sat yourself down on his cock. Fuck. He was huge. You wince in pain as he stretches you open. You managed to get all of his dick into you. You move to sit more comfortably in his lap. You took some time to adjust how big his dick was. So all that talk of how massive his cock was was actually true, you thought. Maybe all of his brain cells went down to his dick inside.

You took a deep breath and slowly lifted yourself on Satoru dick. You stop at the tip and slide back down. In and out. You repeated this for a couple minutes. While you do this, Satoru whimpers noisily. He looks at you hungrily. You can tell it takes all of his willpower not to thrust into you. Time to spice things up a bit. Again you reach the tip of dick then you slam your hips back down. Satoru moans your name as you let out a mewl. You started to bounce yourself on his dick eagerly. The noises that Satoru made sounded heavenly. You set a nice pace that wasn’t too fast or slow as you ride his lap. You delve your tongue in his lips as he lets you in. The two of you made out messily, your hands around his neck while he was gripping your waist tightly.

He moans out your name desperately, his hips stuttering against yours. Satoru pulls you off his dick and rests his forehead against you. You blink, “Why did you stop?”

“Your pussy is too dangerous. You almost made me cum.”

“Oh. That's cute,” you smiled.

He scrunches his brow in a cute way, “Mhm not cute. I’m very sexy.”

You giggle, “Whatever you say you big baby ah- !” You cried out his name as his waist held you still while he thrust back right into your g-spot. His dick slamming into yours felt so delicious, mixing pain with pleasure. You felt your walls tingling as he made you slam you in and out of him. You had no control over your body. All you felt was Satoru's warm embrace. Your nails claw at his back as he continues to cruelly thrusting into you. He pulls you even closer to him. The new angle makes you scream his name even louder. “I love you,” he whispered. The way he said it was so gentle compared to the way his dick was harshly slamming into your cunt.

“Your mine,” he snarls. He slaps your ass and your arched your back mewling. He grabs your ass tightly and you were sure that that would leave marks later. His kisses were hot and frantic. He holds onto you so tightly. His eyes lovelily caress your body. He admires the hickeys he left on your neck and collarbones. The sneakily placed red marks decorated your breasts. Your unbuttoned blouse barely stays on your shoulders. The way how your tits bounce in his face. The blue and white lingerie makes you look like a goddess. He knows you brought it because of the way it reminds him of you. The sounds your pussy makes as it clenches ever so deliciously on his dick. He loves you very much. He presses kisses everywhere he can on your body. You make him feel alive. His heart only flutters for you. He can feel that you are soon about to hit your climax. A finger tugged at your nipple.

Satoru rubs your clit hard, “Cum for me baby,” he rasped out. In his words, you let go. You dig into his shoulders whining his name as your hips stutter. He repeats your name like a mantra as he keeps pounding into you. You breathily scream his name as you come down for your high. Satoru shortly orgasm after yours. He made sure to keep bouncing your hips as he cums into you. His fast pace became erratic as he chased after his own pleasure. You rested your head against his neck, breathing heavily trying to catch your breath. That was the best orgasm you ever had in your life. Your heart content and pussy filled with Satoru dick. You sighed happily, feeling sleepy. “So good Toru,” you slurred out. His arms pulled your body into a hug. “Told you, I’m the best.”

“Now you owe me a new pair of underwear and a date,” you smiled softly.

“I buy you as much underwear as you want. I make sure our first date is special and romantic as fuck.” He winks. “I need to ask you a couple questions to end the Satoru Dick Survey?”

“Yea?” You laughed admiring his afterglow.

“1! What is your favorite gem? 2, what kind of band do you want? 3, Where do you want our wedding to take place?” He asks playfully. You were surprised for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. “That eager huh? I think I would make good wife material. Not sure if you make good husband material though.” You jest at him.

“I’m sexy, rich, and fun. I am prime husband material! I can even reserve an entire resort for our honeymoon,” he pouts but you can see his eyes glitter mischievously.

“Yea yea,” you laughed, hugging him. “At least take me on our first date first!”

“Promise.” Satoru holds out his pinky. You entwined your pinky with his.

“Pinky promised. For our first date, I want to eat wagyu and lobsters. Ohh and a fancy dessert bar,” you grinned.

“Noted. I make sure our first date is so special that you will remember it even when you're old. Now that you're with me, you should know I’m a lifelong commitment. I’m yours forever,” Satoru smiles.

#gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru

49 notes · View notes

fe-fictions · 1 year

Note

Good day/night! :]

Might you have some spare Henry crumbs laying around? I've been on a crowman high lately and you write him so well! <3

(Here's some Henry taking care of a sick wife and baby!!!)

The family had taken a brief, albeit very fun and relaxing, trip in Plegia. Morgan being only eight months old certainly made things interesting. Having the whole family there to enjoy the beauty of Plegia outside war time was fun.

Plus, you were both Plegians, so it was nice to learn about your roots.

It was a magical time. Or at least, it would have been. You woke up the morning after you came home and found yourself unable to get out of bed.

You had a fever, your head was pounding, and you were a snotty mess of misery. Henry was amused until he heard baby Morgan bawling down the hall. You both caught, according to your husband, the Plegian swine flu.

No one was immune from it, not even sweet, innocent little blood bags like Morgan (Henry’s words, not yours).

So Henry quickly went from teasing you and being fascinated by how miserable you were to going into full-blown panic.

Like any disease, a baby catching it had a higher risk of complications. Most recover, Henry explained while frantically scribbling an urgent letter for Maribelle to tie to one of his crows, but itty bitty babies could suffer serious health problems.

Henry got to work on preparing you a bucket of cold water, a second bucket for the kerchiefs you would be blowing your nose into all day, and a third bucket in case you couldn’t keep your food down.

You didn’t.

“Gods, Henry- did you have to send that filthy animal to me? I’m literally down the block! It would take you fifteen minutes to-”

“Fifteen minutes is a waste of time! Morgan and Robin could be dead by then! And if it’s either of them, it’s no joke, nya ha!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“It’s nervous laughter!” He chuckled again, though judging by how pale his face was, it seemed to be true.

Maribelle simply scoffed and hurried to the bedroom, ready to treat her friend.

“Robin, darling! Oh, you look positively ghastly!” She gasped, drawing the mask over her mouth and nose. She pulled on her medical gloves, a stave at her side and a big pouch of herbs on her belt. “The Plegian swine flu is no joke...it’s very rarely found in Ylisse, but when it travels with you…”

“I-it’s a disaster.” You wheezed, not before you were overcome by coughing. “Anything y-you can do will be a welcome remedy.”

“Luckily for you, there’s nothing here that herbs and plenty of rest won’t fix. Now Morgan might be a little trickier, given his age...but we can at least get started with you.”

Maribelle was quick to send Henry off to grind up the herbs, preparing some disgusting concoction guaranteed to get your body back to normal.

Presuming Henry could put it together.

“Now, when did you start to feel ill?”

“W-well, if I’m honest… It started around-”

Crash

“Ah, gods- I broke the cup!!”

“-The time we got home, last night. It was late-”

Smash

“The pestle’s shattered!!”

“-And I just thought I was tired, but...my head feels about the same as-”

Bang

“The herbs are everywhere!!”

“HENRY!!” Maribelle shouted out the door, “What in the gods’ names are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess!” Henry apologized, his voice shaky and unsure. “I-I just meant to help a bit, but it looks like I’m making things worse, nya ha!”

“Why don’t you come and sit,” Maribelle pinched her brow, “Just settle down until you stop breaking things.”

You watched as Henry wandered back into the bedroom, looking surprisingly pale and nervous. You had never quite seen him in such a way, before.

After all, it was always good times and weird vibes with your husband. Since when did he become the anxious type?

“I’ll be right back, Robin. I’ll get your medicine.”

“Give some to Morgan, first.” You asked, “I can wait.”

Maribelle nodded to you before taking off, leaving you alone with your husband who was bouncing his leg and fidgeting with his hands with a nervousness that you’d never seen before.

For a few moments, it was quiet, listening to the rhythmic, rapid tapping of his heel against the stone. Eventually, though, you would have to snap him out of it.

“Henry, a-are you all right?” You questioned as gently as you could. Henry started to nod, giving you a cracked, faux grin. Then he paused, his smile fell, and he shook his head.

“Well, if I’m honest? No. Not at all. I feel like I’m dying inside.” He admitted. “I mean, you’re sick, and so is Morgan! My two favorite living people! And there’s not a thing I can do about it- I mean, he’s just a baby, and we’ve only been back together for a year- I dunno. It scares me, y’know? Which is impressive! When’s the last time I’ve been genuinely scared, right! Nya ha ha!”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Henry.” You tried to assure him. But he shook his head, folding his arms tightly.

“You don’t know that! All it takes is one thing to go wrong and it could be bye-bye wifey, or even bye-bye baby, and I...oh, I couldn’t handle that. Nope, not one bit.”

It was certainly a reasonable concern.

“Henry, sweetheart...come here.” You held your hand out to him, insisting he sit with you. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the pain that numbed your sense of worry, but you were far calmer than he was.

He took your hand, revealing trembling fingers. You squeezed it tightly, trying your best to comfort him despite your situation.

“Maribelle will take care of us. We’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

“But you can’t be sure!” He sighed shakily, “Anything can happen when it comes to Plegian flu. It can either be nothing at all, or really bad! And you never know until it happens. If something bad did happen to you or Morgan, I just...I don’t know what to do! You already told me I’m not allowed to re-animate either of you if you croak, so...I’m out of options!”

“I’m standing firm on that, just so you know.” You informed him with a soft smile, “But, Henry...there’s no value in worrying for worrying’s sake. W-we really shouldn’t be concerned with the unknown until it comes.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one having to take care of both of you! What if I mess up?! What if I make it worse!! I already broke Maribelle’s mortar and pestle, there are herbs everywhere, a-and I just-”

“Henry,” You pressed a finger to his lips, “You’re overthinking.”

“B-but I just...I worry about you guys…”

“I know.” You beamed at him, stroking his cheek. “But please, try not to worry. We need to wait for Maribelle’s diagnosis, and we can go from there, okay? It’ll be easier if we take it a step at a time.”

“Gosh, Robin...how’re you able to stay so calm all the time?” He looked at you incredulously, “I’m about ready to pop out of my skin and just run around like a headless Risen!”

“Experience.” You laughed.

Maribelle came in not long after, informing you both that the flu didn’t appear to be as bad as it could be.

“Morgan should recover within the week, though we’ll need to make sure he receives two doses of medicine each day; one in the morning and one at night. Henry, you’ll have to make it for him each day- is that something you can handle? Or will I be making more visits this week?”

Henry shared a look with you, seeing your encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I can handle it, I promise!”

“Good. Morgan’s going to be counting on you. Robin, you should need more rest than anything else, but I’m recommending you take one dose each evening; it will help you sleep better, and it’s strong enough that it should hold you the next day.”

“That’s fine by me.” You agreed; the less disgusting, bitter herbs you had to ingest, the better.

“Your recovery time will be a bit longer than Morgan’s, though, judging by how you’re doing… I’d say two weeks at minimum; a month-and-a-half at most. Now if you want, I can have Lissa or Libra come and help take care of you, so that Henry can focus on caring for Morgan. Or, we can simply send Morgan off with a wet nurse while you’re here.”

“N-no, I-!” Henry interrupted before you could reply, putting a hand to his chest. “I can handle it, Maribelle! After all, if I can’t take care of my family, what kind of man would I be? Just a sad bag of bones and sinew! Not good for anything but crow food.”

Maribelle glanced over at you, looking for some sort of response. You knew she was still wary of Henry, especially now that she was out a very lovely mortar and pestle. But you were confident in his abilities.

“He can take care of us.” You told her, “I trust him.”

“Well...if you insist.” She conceded, earning a whoop from your husband- and an apology for it shortly after when he realized you weren’t to be around loud noises with your headache. “I’ll be coming to check up on you twice a week until you’re all better- until then, Henry, we’re counting on you!”

“You got nothin’ to worry about, Maribelle! We just take it a day at a time, and it’ll be great, nya ha!”

“Robin, if anything changes, or you need help...please don’t hesitate to call me or the other healers immediately.”

“I will.”

“I do mean anything, dear.”

“...I will.”

“If Henry does one thing wrong-”

“Hey!”

“I got it, Maribelle.” You chuckled, waving her away. “Thanks for your concern. We’ll be sure to call for you if we need anything. But I’m positive Henry will take care of us just fine.”

“You can bet your organs on it!” He grinned, giggling happily with his wife’s support. Maribelle gave him a long, hard look, but eventually took her leave.

Henry was quick to move Morgan’s crib into the bedroom, guaranteeing that he could keep track of both of you and ensure you were both recovering nicely at the same time.

While it was heartbreaking listening to Morgan’s discomfort and those tiny baby coughs, it helped to see him improve day after day.

You did end up recovering about a week after Morgan, all thanks to Henry. He made sure to give you only the best. Most of all you were just thankful that none of you could get the Plegian swine flu ever again.

Especially since he bought Maribelle a replacement mortar and pestle that came from a questionable source, covered in animal bones and bird skulls and...you really didn’t know what corner of Hell he summoned them from.

At least there wouldn’t be another opportunity for him to break anything else of Maribelle’s, seeing as you wouldn’t be getting sick again.

You would take extra steps to ensure that just so he wouldn’t frighten Maribelle with another horrifying “gift”.

#henry #robin #morgan #fe 13 #fire emblem awakening #fe awakening #henbin #henry x robin #family fluff #fe fictions #fe-fictions #f!robin #fem!robin #f!mu #lots of comfort #good dad henry #doting father and sweetest husband #i love him so much

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trashboatprince · 1 year

Text

Normally, I tend to keep quiet here on theories, but sometimes I like to indulge in them. The Henry is a perfect Bendy one is a mixed bag, but I can’t deny I've played around with the concept in the past. (I used to have an au for it, but someone stole my ideas and I left the au alone because it upset me to work on it.)

And since the theory is making the rounds again, I decided to write up an idea that's been rolling about in my skull for a while, well before the release of the new trailer, and now is a good chance to write up the idea.

Warning: mild anxiety attack

Please note that this is all headcanon based, since the game hasn’t been released yet, haha. Also, there’s some art included!

On with the fic!

“It’s amazing how much stuff is down here.” Audrey commented to the little devil that walked alongside her. “I mean, it’s one thing to find art supplies and some equipment, but a whole little community? A car?”

She laughed a bit in disbelief, and Bendy couldn’t help but to laugh with her, his laughter whistles and wheezes, it was all he could do, he wasn’t allowed a voice.

No, he didn’t have one.

Bendy never talked in the cartoons, hence the lack of a voice.

Yes? Yes.

He grinned, whistling a jaunty tune as the two of them continued to walk the halls, on a mission that Bendy hadn’t paid too much attention to. Audrey listened, she’ll know what to do, he’ll help however he can.

“Oh! I recognize this!”

Bendy stopped, blinking, and looked up at something that caught Audrey’s attention on a wall.

Like many of the hallways, there were posters and framed items, drawings, writings, and scattered sheets of paper peppering the wooden boards. This one was no different, though whatever was framed seemed to have the human’s attention. Bendy made a questioning sound and she looked down.

“Ah, well, in my office, in the-the real world, I have this framed animation cell! It’s an original, I don’t think it was ever actually in a cartoon, a special cell as a gift from Mr. Drew.”

Any time Bendy heard Joey’s name, he felt a twinge in his chest, he hated it.

“The cell’s always been in my office, for as long as I can remember. It’s like a little bit of motivation, you know?” She was smiling at whatever was behind the glass, the lights of the hall reflecting off of it, making it hard for Bendy to get a clear look. He didn’t like being short, made it hard to see some stuff.

“I wonder what it’s doing here.” Audrey frowned. “I bet Wilson brought it down here to taunt me or something.” She sighed and Bendy squeaked, reaching for the frame. “Oh, do you want to look?”

He nodded and she removed it from the wall. “Now, be careful, this was a gift to Mr. Drew from an old friend of his.”

Bendy nodded again and carefully took the frame from her, grinning as he finally got a look at what she had been staring at.

Oh.

It was an animation cell, there was no denying that, including a background to go along with it. The cell contained Boris, Alice, and Bendy himself, looking so happy as the trio walked down a path together.

There was writing down in the corner of the inner frame, protecting the cell and background.

The writing was clear, familiar.

Congratulations on your success!

Your Best Pal,

H-

Hen-

Henry S-

Wait, he knew this name. Knows this name.

Why does-

Who am I now?

“Bendy?”

He could hear Audrey’s voice calling from somewhere far away, muffled by what sounded like rushing water ink in his head.

Alright Joey, I’m here...

A hand was on the frame, gently taking it from his own and he looked up, confused, alarmed. “Bendy, are you alright? Your eye is...”

Blinking, he touched at the side of his face, his fingertips came back coated in runny ink.

Why did she call me Bendy?

What’s going-

He blinked again, rubbing at his leaking eye. Huh, Bendy frowned, confused as to what just happened. He looked up at Audrey, smiling at her, why was she looking concerned?

“Right... should we get moving?” She asked, giving him an awkward smile.

He squeaked, his grin wide. He must have spaced out or something, he didn’t remember anything of what just happened. She put a framed image on the wall and took his hand, the two of them continuing down the hall.

It’s not a trashboatprince au without Henry and/or Bendy having a weird eye.

#bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #batim bendy #batdr bendy #henry stein #batdr audrey #john's art #john's drabbles

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kirk-says-wah · 9 months

Note

Hi, could I have a request please. James/Dave.

James is drunk and hooks up with a very attractive red head boy at a party. The next couple of days he goes around college campus trying to find who the boy is. All he knows is that the boy is a red head with beautiful lips lol. I'll let you come up with how he finds out who Dave is.

Thank you so much for the ask!!

You can read it under the cut or click here to read on ao3 🧡

He wakes up with a kick to the shin.

He groans and swats at the offender, burying his face in his pillow as his head threatens to explode.

“Get up, fucker.”

Lars’s voice alone makes James contemplate breaking his bedside lamp over the smaller man’s head, but it’s way too much effort for his splitting skull to manage, and he doesn’t think he can afford another lamp right now.

“Go away,” James says, muffled into his bed. He’d much rather spend the rest of the day nursing his hangover in peace, but knows full well that Lars will probably take advantage of that and draw a dick on his head with permanent marker.

What he doesn’t expect is to be dragged off the edge of his bed by his ankle, and he hits this floor with a resounding thud. Lars may be small, but he’s stronger than he looks. Bastard.

James rolls sideways, manages to sweep his leg, and Lars lands flat on his ass, whacking the back of his head off of the bed post.

“Fuck,” Lars wheezes, lying next to James on the floor, moving to prop his head up on James’s hip.

“Why am I up?” James asks, staring at the smoke-stained ceiling, trying desperately to ignore the hammer in his skull.

“Because,” Lars says with a deep breath. “I wanted to know why you ditched me with Kirk last night.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Lars scoffs, prods a finger into the side of James’s stomach.

“Did you not see him last night? He was fucking wasted, man. Cliff dared him to finish the rest of the vodka doing shots of some chick.”

“Sounds fun, dude,” James smirks, ignoring Lars trying to wiggle onto his front with the loudest groans possible.

“He threw up in her mouth. Cliff had to carry his ass home bc he couldn’t stop crying.”

James barks a laugh, even if his head protests.

“So, where were you? And don’t fucking change the subject again,” Lars says, resting his chin on his hands facing James.

James sighs, sets his eyes back on the ceiling, tries to think back to the previous night.

A flash of red hair and perfect lips come to mind, and he frowns as he tries to make sense of the memory.

Lars must take the silence as defiant, as he prods him in the shoulder and says “you got laid, didn’t you?”

Lithe body against his own, rutting against each other, breathless and desperate.

James chokes on air.

“No.”

Yes.

“Yes you did!” Lars shouts. James cringes at the sound.

“So, who was it?”

James remembers his legs around hips, mewling into the pillow as he’s fucked relentlessly, pink lips suckling at the juncture of his neck. He remembers a sharp jaw and dark, hazel eyes; a soft laugh that has his stomach fluttering. He’s sure they told him their name, but he was so many beers deep at the time he likely forgot.

He coughs.

“I er… don’t remember their name.”

Lars gasps, all dramatic like.

“It’s not like that,” James quickly butts in, aware that Lars probably thinks he didn’t even ask. Which he did.

“He did tell me. I just don’t remember.”

“This is what you get for fucking people drunk.”

“You do it all the time.”

Lars shrugs. “At least I remember who the fuck I did it with.”

James’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t remember the last time Lars got laid and told him about it, which means he’s not fucked anyone in a while. Which is definitely not true.

“Why are you here this early? You don’t even live here,” James says, liking the flustered red that flares over Lars’s cheeks.

“Well, someone had to look after Kirk.”

James just smiles knowingly, but decides it’s best not to comment.

“Right.”

Lars moves to stand, uses James’s night stand to haul himself onto unsteady feet.

“So, are you gonna see them again?”

James sits up, stretching a little, feeling his back crack along his spine.

“I would if I could remember his fucking name.”

Lars laughs, kicks at the cans strewn across James’s bedroom floor.

“Well, give me a clue and I’ll hunt them down. Campus can’t be that big.”

James sniffs, rubbing a knuckle under his nose.

“About my height, red hair, likes metal.”

“Wow, that narrows it down.”

James flick him in the shin.

“He’s got hazel eyes. And I’m pretty sure he said he plays guitar.”

Lars answers with a small huh, hauling James onto his feet when the blonde holds up a hand.

“Guess you’ve got some work to do.”

James sighs, pressing two fingers into his eyes.

“My head’s killing me.”

Lars offers no sympathy, but does tell him there’s tylenol on Kirk’s bedside table.

“I’ve got to go to class,” Lars states as he grabs his bag from outside Kirk’s door. There’s soft snores still coming from the other side, and James doesn’t miss the lingering affection that softens Lars’s cheeks at the sound.

“I would wish you luck, but you’ve never been good with love so I won’t hold my breath.”

James stifles a gag, splutters into a coughing fit before spitting out a what?

Lars looks mildly amused, shrugging his bag over his shoulder.

“You’re the one that told me the colour of his eyes.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” James protests, though he won’t deny the way his chest disintegrates into a gooey mess at the thought of the night before.

“If you say so,” Lars says with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t pick on me I’m ill,” James pouts, rubbing at his eyes again.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Hey, I’m not the one trying to hide fucking my best friend.”

Now that shuts Lars up, his face turning a deep red as his mouth opens and closes like a fish on land.

James feels a laugh bubble into his throat. Lars squints.

“Whatever, loverboy. I’ll be back at 2. Try not to die.”

“I can look after myself, y’know,” James says, crossing his arms.

Lars doesn’t answer, instead blowing a kiss over his shoulder as he leaves through the front door.

James leans his head back against the wall, the face of last night’s adventure still stamped into his mind.

He wonders how the fuck he’s meant to find him without a name. His best bet is the music block, though he’s not sure if the guy plays guitar as a hobby or for his major.

He decides, fuck it; manages to wrangle on some fresh clothes and rinse the alcohol off his breath before creeping into Kirk’s room.

It’s an absolute mess in there, which makes it extremely hard to manoeuvre himself in the dark because Kirk’s got them stupid blackout blinds so that he can hibernate in the summer.

He manages to get to his bedside table, only standing on a few things that he can’t fucking see, before glancing over towards the bed.

Kirk’s still snoring, rather loudly now that James is stood next to him, though only his curls are visible from underneath the duvet.

James just rolls his eyes, sifts through the pile of crap on the night stand until he finds the tylenol, popping a few out before sneaking back out of the room.

He swallows the tablets down with a leftover bottle of bud he finds on the kitchen side before he grabs his bag and his phone, and leaves in hopes of finding the boy stuck in his mind.

— —

He goes to the music block first, mostly because he’s in there a lot, tracks down a few people he’s aware of that are playing in bands around campus.

He finds a guy called Gar sat behind a drum kit, a mess of blonde hair and a leather waistcoat that tucks over a bullet belt. James has seen him around, mostly thrashing out a drum beat in one of the music studios by himself to get practice in. James admires the dedication, wonders if Lars should meet up with him sometime.

“Do you know a dude, red hair and plays guitar?”

Gar rests on his drum stool, cross his arms and lifts an eyebrow. James feels stupid.

“About your height?”

James nods, thumbs at the loops on his jeans.

“It’s probably Dave. I haven’t seen him in days.”

Dave. Yeah that sounds familiar.

“Do you know where he could be?”

Gar shrugs, tests the hi-hat.

“Beats me, you’ll have to find Junior.”

“Junior?”

“David,” Gar clarifies, twiddling his drum sticks between his fingers. “He’s probably playing football. He’s the only player with a ponytail, you won’t miss him.”

“Right,” James says, a little miffed that he’s going to have to find someone else. “Thanks,” he says anyway, manages to crack a smile.

Gar just smiles back before breaking back out into whatever song he was practicing.

— —

He spots a ponytail on the field straight away, watching it bob around between the other players.

James feels awkward, stood by the bleachers in a metal t-shirt and blonde wavy hair past his shoulders. He sits on the first row, momentarily reverting back to the shyness from his youth. He bites his lip as he watches on, trying his best not to look too out of place, until the whistle blows and half time is called.

The footballers jog over, grabbing water and chatting amongst themselves. James only feels brave enough to walk over there because he’s absolutely, positively dying to see Dave again.

“Hey, you’re Junior, right?” he says, approaching the tall guy with the blonde ponytail.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Junior says, downing a bottle of water.

James swallows, feeling his nerves start to rake at his throat.

“I was looking for Dave and Gar said you’d know where he is.”

“Mustaine? Nah dude, sorry. He’s not been to most of his classes this week. He’s flying under the radar again.”

James lets his shoulders slump with disappointment, toeing at the grass.

“Does he do that a lot?”

“Sometimes,” Junior shrugs, wiping excess water off of his chin. “He has a tendency to go rogue. It’s a Dave thing, he likes to be alone.”

“Oh,” is all James can say, and doesn’t that just make him feel foolish. Not for one second has he contemplated whether Dave would even want to see him. He sighs, rubs his fist against his cheek.

“Thanks anyway,” he says, not noticing the quizzical looks Junior shoots him as he turns around.

— —

It’s three o’clock by the time he gets home.

He finds Kirk strewn across the couch, his head in Lars’s lap as they watch the tv. He looks half-dead, face a sickly green as he mushes his cheek against Lars’s thigh. Lars is gently running his fingers through his curls, eyes intently flicking between the tv and the boy on his lap.

As soon as James walks in, Lars looks up with a wide grin.

“So, did you find him?”

James drop his back, slumps into the ragged arm chair opposite.

“No.”

At this angle, he realises Kirk’s dozing softly, eyes opening and closing as he falls in and out of sleep. It does nothing to quieten the volume of Lars’s voice though.

“Well, did you at least find out his name?”

James picks at a loose thread on the arm rest.

“Dave Mustaine, I think.”

“I know him.”

It’s Kirk that pipes up, and James frowns.

“He’s in my art class. Likes to beat people up for looking at him wrong.”

“He sounds fun,” Lars says, amused, moving to run his fingers over the outline of Kirk’s side profile.

“He’ll probably still be there, y’know.”

“Where?”

James is sitting forward now, all thoughts of Dave not wanting to see him momentarily forgotten.

Kirk yawns, winces, then snuggles further into Lars’s lap.

“Art class. It doesn’t finish until half four.”

“You’ve got a class on right now?” Lars practically shrieks, making Kirk recoil at the sound.

“I really don’t know how the fuck you’re gonna pass anything.”

Kirk just smiles lazily, and James knows that if they would just come out to him as a couple, they would be exchanging sickly sweet kisses.

“What room is it?” James asks, glancing at the clock as he grabs his bag.

Kirk mumbles something into Lars’s leg.

“What?”

“Room 10A,” Lars says, repeating Kirk’s answer.

James nods and leaves quickly, though obviously not quick enough to avoid Lars shouting ‘use condoms’ as he shuts the door.

— —

He’s never been to the art building before, so it takes him a while to find the right room.

His nerves start to creep up on him, twisting his stomach in knots, and he feels like he’s in high school all over again.

It’s stupid really; he’s already slept with the guy. He shouldn’t be this nervous to speak to him.

He waits outside the classroom, passes the time by scrolling through Instagram and texting Cliff, before finally people start leaving.

He spots a halo of strawberry-red hair, and hazel eyes are quick to meet his own.

A familiar warmth tugs at his stomach and he smiles. Dave blinks, and smiles back, walking over to him.

“So, I’m guessing you enjoyed last night,” Dave says. His eyes are almost unbelieving, and James hopes he’s not made a mistake meeting him again.

“I er… wanted to see you again,” he stammers, cursing at himself when Dave’s grin twist smugly.

“I wanted to ask if maybe you want to get a drink sometime.”

Dave blinks, looks taken aback, the smile on his face momentarily dropping.

“What?”

James feels his stomach drop through his ass, and he fumbles for a reply.

“I mean we don’t have to-, I just thought maybe-“

“No, I’m just confused,” Dave interrupts, face pulling into a bewildered frown.

James’s eyebrows pull taught.

“What? Why?”

“You don’t just want to fuck me? You want to actually take me out?”

Dave is still looking at him, and James is unsure what the best reply is.

He settles on the truth and says yeah, hoping he won’t end up being knocked about like those kids Kirk was talking about.

Dave doesn’t move, but his face softens.

“Oh,” he says, his lips tugging upwards. “I’d like that.”

James practically beams, his chest feels like it might burst.

“Can I have your number? It was a real pain trying to hunt you down,” he says with a laugh.

“I already gave you it,” Dave replies, pointing at James’s jacket pocket. “I left it in there.”

He’s had it this whole time?

He mentally face palms, and gives Dave a meek smile as he pulls out the piece of paper from his pocket.

“Text me your address and I’ll come pick you up later,” Dave says, flashing a toothy grin, before closing the gap between them and pressing a chaste kiss to James’s lips.

James’s voice doesn’t cooperate, too caught up on the feeling of Dave’s lips on his own again, so he just nods dumbly.

“See you later, James,” Dave says, gives a pink-cheeked smile, before heading for the exit.

James doesn’t know how this day can get any better.

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #james/dave #asks

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the-void-writes · 1 year

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"kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap"

Thank you so much for all of your beautiful prompts, love! Just for you, I’m gonna post the rest of the Lockhart piece that I was hesitant to share in the last snippet I did with them. I think I’m slowly getting the hang of this stuff, thanks to you and our friends 💖

TW: Adult content 18+ only, minor accounts of blood, consumption of blood

SOLM - Flowers and Songbirds - Cyrus, Val, and Tristan

Tristan bit his lip at the two unbelievably euphoric sensations— Cyrus rocking against him from behind, and Val doing the same on his lap. He held their waist gently, admiring their never-ending plethora of freckles, as they gripped the canopy posts at the foot of the bed. The wine must have finally been affecting him, because he could have sworn that the wood was splintering and crunching under Val’s hands.

Nevertheless, the pleasure in their smile was a sight to behold. Their skin felt much warmer, thanks to the lotion Tristan had applied for them, another local remedy made from Winter Fire. It made his own skin tingle, like he was standing by the grand fireplace in the drawing room. Cyrus was having too much fun applying the lotion wherever Tristan was most sensitive, listening as he whimpered in ecstasy.

Val brought their arms back down and immediately went for Cyrus, pulling him over Tristan’s shoulder to kiss him. Even with their limited contact, they seemed to be connected in ways Tristan couldn’t comprehend. Their eyes flickered and shifted like they were talking through body language alone. Tristan hoped that he would be lucky enough to understand them one day.

In the meantime, Tristan focused on making Val feel just as incredible as he was feeling. Each gasp told him he was on the right track. Cyrus grinned and whispered into his ear.

“Kiss their neck for me, please. It drives them wild.”

He emphasized his sentence with an extra thrust, drinking in the sweet grunt that the detective made in response. Tristan did as he asked, pressing soft kisses into Val’s neck. The noises that left their lips could have put a symphony to shame. It spread a wave of warmth through Tristan’s body, a pleasant shiver from head to toe.

“Cyrus,” he said in between gasps, “I hope you won’t take offense to this, but your spouse is adorable.”

He could feel Cyrus smirk against his neck. “I’m not offended, at all. Might I suggest that you’re just as adorable?”

Val nodded, the flush in their cheek intensifying. “He’s right— Aah— You’re precious.”

Tristan laughed. “It’s hard to argue like this, isn’t it?”

“Tell us your weakness, then. Make things more equal.”

“Sorry, Vee. I don’t have many—”

He gasped as Cyrus took his arms and raised them over his head. One hand kept him in place, while the other played with his chest, rolling his nipple between his fingers.

“You were saying, my little songbird?”

“Cyrus— that’s—“ He whimpered. “Oh god.”

Val smiled. “See? Precious.”

They kissed his neck and rocked a little faster on his lap. That, combined with Cyrus’ nimble hands and gentle thrusts, pushed Tristan further over the edge. It was pure heaven. A mix of moaning, whimpering, and laughter escaped his lips. For a moment, he feared the staff would hear him.

“How are you, my dear?” Cyrus asked, his voice trembling slightly from his own pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” Tristan said. “Oh please— don’t stop.”

He laughed. “You hear that, my flower? You’re a natural.”

Val wheezed, interrupted by a sudden moan. “He’s talking to you, love.”

“Both of you— You’re so good. Oh god—”

He bit down on his lip again, and the taste of metal filled his mouth. Val shook a little against his chest, as though they were caught off-guard.

“Sorry,” Tristan said, “is it a mess?”

Val stared at his lips, deeply troubled as they traced around the blood from his cut. Then, like a hungry animal, they kissed him. Their tongue ran over his bottom lip, seemingly relishing in the coppery taste. Quickly, they realized what they were doing and pulled away.

“I’m so sorry— I don’t know why I did that—”

Tristan laughed. “Vee, it’s okay. You can be as rough as you like.”

Hesitantly, Val kissed him again, much softer this time. Cyrus chuckled against Tristan’s neck and released his hands to firmly grab his waist.

“Are we both allowed to be rough?”

“Yes,” Tristan said. “Please do.”

With Val’s soft bites along his lips, and Cyrus’ fast and firm movements, Tristan practically yelled in ecstasy. He held Val’s hips and rocked them against him, losing himself in their sweet gasps. For extra measure, he ran his hand up Cyrus’ leg, feeling him twitch and tremble.

“Tris, darling—” Cyrus gasped. “I think—”

“Go ahead,” Tristan said.

Cyrus muffled himself against Tristan’s neck as he rode out his high. His chest felt warm against his back, slightly moist with sweat. With a sudden spark of determination, he reached down and massaged his partners, just under their waists. Their reactions were nearly identical, crying out loudly with slight tears in their eyes.

“Darling,” Val said, “please.”

“I’m right here, flower.”

“Cyrus—” Tristan shook under his touch. “That’s it, that’s it—”

His back arched slightly, and he came back down to catch his breath. Cyrus continued to work on his spouse, growing excited all over again at the sounds that left their mouth. Val grabbed at the curtains that hung over their bed, gripping it tightly as Tristan gave them a few more soft thrusts for good measure.

Finally, their breath hitched and their toes curled against Tristan’s leg. In the rush of their euphoria, they tore the curtain from its post, letting fall over them and their partners. They couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re getting stronger, my love,” Cyrus said.

“I’m so sorry,” Val said, still catching their breath. “I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

“Don’t even worry about it.”

He threw the curtain off and pulled Val and Tristan onto the bed, letting them lay on his chest. Val fit perfectly in his arms, while Tristan laid awkwardly on his side, but that didn’t stop Cyrus from holding him close.

“Thank you, Tris,” he whispered. “We’re so lucky to have you.”

Tristan smiled. “Thank you, Cyrus.”

Soon, exhaustion pulled him into a deep sleep. He heard a pair of voices, like sharp wisps of wind, though he wasn’t sure if they were his partners or a distant dream.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“I almost lost it— His blood— I couldn’t fight the craving.”

“There, there, my love. It takes time to control it. You’re doing very well, considering.”

“Will we tell him? If he chooses to stay, can he join us?”

“That’s up to him.”

“I just don’t want to lose him.”

In his sleep, Tristan felt a hand stroke his hair.

“Neither do I, flower.”

#writeblr #writing community #ask games #wip: secrets of lockhart manor

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aylacaleashantie · 8 months

Text

First ever fan fiction

So while I wait for my AO3 invite. I have started to write my first ever fan fiction. I'll post it here, and help me think of a story title!

Her body slammed against the counter and the air wheezed out of her lungs and mouth. “You demon!” Her abusive father, whose name was Kent grabbed her braid and pulled her to standing. “What did I tell you about this?” She clenched her jaw. her anger rising. She was covered in bruises, had a black eye and looked like she had been through the wringer. Instead of answering, she held her side. She guessed she had broken ribs but couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she was adopted by this abusive asshole and today was the last straw for her. “I don’t fucking care what you told me! I’m eighteen, if I want to find my biological parents you can’t stop me, you abusive fucker!” Her “father” for all tense and purposes draw a knife and tackled her to the floor. “Now you listen to me, you ungrateful bitch!” And held the knife to her throat. Her jaw clamped down even tighter, her eyes went from their beautiful blue to yellow. They looked like a snakes, and if her father had better sense, he would have backed off. But no, he just laughed in her face, his hands shook, and the knife was making tiny cuts into her throat. After years of abuse, Ayla had finally had enough. Her anger flared to new heights. She started smoking, black plumes of smoke misted around her and when she could hold it no longer, it released. Thunder rolled and lightening sparked throughout the house. Ayla’s father’s eyes went wide with terror as he scrambled away from her. As he stood he got struck by lightening and slumped to the floor. “Serves you right, you abusive asshole!” She didn’t even check if Kent was alive or not. Instead she packed a couple changes of clothes and left the house forever.

She walked as far as she could, which wasn’t very far but luckily for her she came upon a strip of business. There was a music shop, a seamstress shop, a coffee shop called “ Give me coffee or give me death.” Ayla smiled to herself. People going to and fro from the shops gave her a somewhat wide berth, which didn’t bother her any. But she needed to find a place to rest a while. Her legs were shaking from exhaustion, she swayed slightly and closed her eyes. She noticed by feel that she bumped into something. But couldn’t tell what.“Watch it!”a man exclaimed with a growl and glared at her through sunglasses. But as the gentleman took in her state his eyebrows rose. He grabbed her by the wrist and growled out “What the fuck happened!?” Ayla eyes snapped open, revealing the predator. The man’s grip tightened. “I don’t fucking know you, why should I tell you?” she growled back. Ayla grabbed the man by the wrist and he immediately dropped her wrist, it was like he was zapped by an invisible force. “What’s up with your eyes? Those contacts?” Ayla gave him a confused look. “Names Crowley, Anthony. Yours?” Ayla couldn’t explain it but she felt she could trust Crowley. “Ayla.” Crowley nodded at her slightly and pointed with his chin “You look starved. I don’t normally do this but whadda say I buy you a nibble and a drink.” For some un-explainable reason Crowley’s heart (for lack of a better term) went out to her. He gently led her through the door of the coffee shop and to a table. Ayla grabbed the spoon from the silverware sitting, ready to be used, and looked at her face. Man, she was a sight. But she did notice what Crowley was talking about her eyes where a snake’s! “Those contacts?” Crowley asked and the only reply Ayla gave him was a slow shake of her head before she whispered “First time its happened actually.” Crowley frowned and pondered her answer, after a few minutes later, a beautiful African American with box braids in her hair approached the table. “Crowley! What has it been? Twenty years?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Get you your regular 6 shots in a big cup?” he only nodded. As Nina took in the state of the woman occupying the table Nina looked from the woman to Crowley and back again. Instead of speaking her mind, like she normally did, she kept it internal. “For you miss?” Crowley watched as Ayla eyes slowly changed from the predators to a familiar blue. His almost gasped aloud but managed not to. Ayla looked at Nina and before she could stop herself she asked “Are you related to Mr. Fell?” Ayla’s face crunched in confusion “No?” she didn’t sound confident of that, but she quickly added “I mean, I have no idea. I was adopted.” Crowley stored this information away for later as Ayla then ordered a Croissant and an Iced Chai tea. Nina went and put the order in. It wasn’t long before she was back and placed the items on the table and left to tend to the other customers. She made a mental note to ask Crowley if he found out what happened to the woman.

“So, what happened?” Crowley asked Ayla. Ayla’s jaw clenched and Crowley watched as one of her blue eyes went back to a snake’s. “My abussssssive assssssshole of a father” she hissed as she continued “Didn’t want me to find my biological parentssssss.” Crowley slowly nodded his head and he watched Ayla eat her croissant. He couldn’t help himself, it had been eighteen years since -. He stopped that thought in its tracks. No, no. He was not going to drudge up the past. Azriaphale made his choice.

#good omens fanfiction

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animanganerd · 4 months

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Everything Annoys Me And I’m (Too) Hot - Chapter 28

The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi Fanfic

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47881336/chapters/133513954

All chapters: here x

Chapter 28 ❖ Avoiding problems leads to more problems

Because I like you.

The words echoed in Lan Xiaoli’s mind.

Liked… him?!

Lan Xiaoli froze.

So his feelings weren’t one-sided after all? Wasn’t that what he’d hoped for? Weren’t these the words he’d wanted to hear?

Then why did he feel so dizzy and nauseous? Why did he feel like he was about to faint?

He blinked. His eyes were suddenly wet, but he wasn’t sure if it was because they’d been dry from staring too hard or if it was from actual tears. Either way, they burnt.

Mu Chun was still looking at him, his eyes expectant as if he was waiting for something.

He’d just confessed, right? It was a confession, wasn’t it? Then of course he was waiting for something…

An answer!

Lan Xiaoli opened his mouth ...and closed it again. He then turned and walked away. His steps were stiff at first, then slowly picked up pace. He walked faster and faster until he was running.

Outside, his legs couldn’t carry him any longer and he slumped onto his knees, clutching his chest. His heart was racing so fast, he thought it was about to explode.

Zhang Chengling saw him collapse and exclaimed, “Are you okay??”

“I think I am having a heart attack,” Lan Xiaoli wheezed.

“Huh?!”

Zhang Chengling noticed that Lan Xiaoli’s face was completely drained of colour and covered in sweat. Whatever it was, it certainly looked serious. He hurried over and helped Lan Xiaoli walk as they searched for his dads.

Wei Wuxian was leisurely leaning back against a table, misusing it as an armrest for his elbows, and currently basked in the sun while Lan Wangji kept him company, enjoying a cup of tea. When they saw the two distressed teens approach, Wei Wuxian straightened up in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Lan Xiaoli was panting heavily, drawing in quick and short breaths. “I think… I am dying!”

He certainly wasn’t dying, but his dads were worried nonetheless. Zhang Chengling helped him onto the bench next to Lan Wangji, who checked his pulse. A brief moment later, Lan Wangji said, “He is fine.”

But he didn’t feel fine! He couldn’t breathe, his heart wouldn’t stop thumping and his body wouldn’t stop shaking.

Wei Wuxian moved around the table to sit on the other side of Lan Xiaoli, his expression filled with concern. “What happened?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” someone else replied.

Mu Chun had appeared out of nowhere. He sat down across from Lan Xiaoli and looked at him, his gaze deep and intense. “Just forget what I said.”

Lan Xiaoli made a sound somewhere between a dry laugh and a sob. “How could I?!” He then jumped up with a little too much force and walked away, followed by Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji shot Mu Chun a glare. “What did you say?”

Without moving his eyes from Lan Xiaoli, Mu Chun replied, “I just told him the truth…”

Lan Xiaoli stopped a few feet away, pacing back and forth on the spot. He clenched and unclenched his hands in an attempt to distract himself from his thoughts.

“A-Li, what happened?” Wei Wuxian asked again, this time more insistently.

Still panicking, Lan Xiaoli answered, “He said something I thought I wanted to hear, but I guess I didn’t want to hear it?? I’m not sure. I don’t even know anymore!”

“Okay, okay, deep breaths, deep breaths,” Wei Wuxian said, taking one of Lan Xiaoli’s hands and gently squeezed it while stroking his back to soothe him.

The warmth of the hand on his back helped Lan Xiaoli calm down. As soon as his breathing had evened out, Wei Wuxian probed, “So, was it something bad?”

Lan Xiaoli’s eyes darted to the side. “N-no… I did not… I- I mean… Uhm… He did not…” he strung together a few more incoherent words until his stammering came to an abrupt halt and he suddenly rushed back.

Lan Wangji was standing dangerously close to Mu Chun and his hand was dangerously tightened around the hilt of Bichen. Mu Chun on the other hand had his hands raised in defence, nervously eyeing the sword. A drop of cold sweat rolled down his cheek.

Lan Xiaoli threw himself in front of Mu Chun, spreading his arms in a protective stance. “Don’t, father!”

“What did he say to you?” Lan Wangji’s eyes remained fixed on Mu Chun, but the question was directed at Lan Xiaoli.

Wei Wuxian had returned as well and was now crossing his arms, also very eager to hear the answer.

“Just that…” Lan Xiaoli bit his lower lip. The mere thought of Mu Chun’s words made his cheeks flush red. He averted his eyes, unable to look at his dads, and tried to quickly think of something else to say, when it hit him: “That I am not skilled enough!”

Both his dads’ faces paled briefly, then turned dark.

Lan Xiaoli flailed his arms in the air, “N-not skilled enough for my revenge plans!” he hastily clarified, “Because… I am too reckless and stuff.”

Their faces normalised again. That was the undeniable truth.

Now that Lan Xiaoli’s dads had been placated, Mu Chun spoke up, “I really didn’t mean it, A-Li. Not like that,” he said with a sense of urgency in his eyes.

Lan Xiaoli lowered his arms again, but didn’t face him. He mustered a thin smile and nodded. The lump in his throat hurt too much, so all he could squeeze out in a soft voice was, “...Okay.”

Yes. Of course he didn’t mean it. Not like that . Lan Xiaoli had been a fool to interpret too much into such simple words. Like didn’t necessarily mean like after all.

It was as if a heavy boulder had been lifted from his heart and dropped right into his stomach, squashing the butterflies that had been fluttering to and fro there mere moments ago. Because that’s precisely how he felt: Relieved and crushed at the same time.

But he had no time to wallow in his heartbreak as Lan Wangji still stood with his sword at the ready. To de-escalate the situation, Lan Xiaoli gently pushed him back to the bench. “Okay, okay, sit down now, everything is fine.”

Weeks slipped by without Lan Xiaoli or Mu Chun mentioning their previous conversation again. It was as if it had never happened. Mu Chun was still shamelessly teasing Lan Xiaoli, whereas Lan Xiaoli was even more evasive than before, barely sparing him a glance.

When Mu Chun settled down beside Lan Xiaoli, for instance, the latter would swiftly move away, no matter how comfortable he’d been. With Mu Chun present, the spot next to Zhang Chengling suddenly seemed way more attractive, or whatever Wen Kexing was babbling about suddenly became infinitely more interesting. No matter what the situation, there were always enough people around for Lan Xiaoli to avoid his problem.

But apart from Mu Chun, no one noticed the subtle shift in his behaviour. When Mu Chun approached Lan Xiaoli one day to address it, Lan Xiaoli quickly turned to Wei Wuxian and poked him with his bow.

“Dad! I bet I can hunt down more game than you!”

Wei Wuxian had never been one to turn down a challenge. Especially, if it was as easy as beating his own son. He accepted with a wide grin.

They were currently taking a break on a lush plain in an otherwise densely wooded forest with trees so tall and leaves so thick that they almost completely blocked out the sun.

The forest looked promising for their bet. Narrow paths wound through the blooming plants and wildflowers. Given the greenery of the area, there should be plenty of game to hunt. Yet, no matter how deep the two of them ventured into the woods, there was no animal to be found.

Instead, they bumped right into a wandering spirit.

“Huh,” Lan Xiaoli tilted his head slightly, “I thought the Zhongyuan Festival was already over. Did I miss something?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “No, it’s just a lost spirit.”

Lan Xiaoli fished a yellow talisman out of his robes, “Should we finish it?”

Wei Wuxian lightly slapped Lan Xiaoli’s hand to stop him from tying the talisman to an arrow.

“Does your father actually teach you any thing?” he chided. “It’s harmless, leave it be. If it’s lucky it can return to the underworld during the next ghost festival.”

Lan Xiaoli shrugged and stowed the talisman away. “Alright.” He focussed his attention back on their hunt. “Maybe we are luckier if we split up?”

Wei Wuxian agreed, so they did as suggested. It didn’t take long before Lan Xiaoli’s sudden scream startled the few birds that had remained in the forest from their slumber.

Walking through the forest, he’d still been sensing a spirit. Assuming it was the same as before he’d paid it no mind which turned out to be a big mistake. There was a sudden surge of murderous intent and by the time the cold feeling lanced down his back, it was already too late.

Before Lan Xiaoli could react, a huge bestial ghost pounced on him and he stumbled right onto his butt. He reflexively screwed his eyes shut and threw his arms over his head in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

However, the pain of getting brutally clawed by his attacker’s paws never arrived.

Lan Xiaoli hesitantly opened his eyes, and saw his dad hovering over him in a protective stance. He didn’t know what had happened, but Wei Wuxian seemed to have driven the beast away with a single glare.

His fierce expression softened when he faced Lan Xiaoli. “Are you okay?”

“W… was that also a lost spirit?” Lan Xiaoli asked, his whole body shaking.

Wei Wuxian sighed. “No… Did it hurt you?”

“I am fine, it just…” The words ‘scared me’ died in his throat. He’d been clutching his dad’s arms and when he let go, his left hand was smeared with blood. The entire right sleeve of Wei Wuxian’s robe had been torn to shreds and was soaked in blood.

All colour vanished from Lan Xiaoli’s face, as if he were the one bleeding. Yet another person had been injured because of him!

“Don’t worry little one,” Wei Wuxian patted Lan Xiaoli’s head. “It’s just a scratch,” he reassured him with a smile.

Lan Xiaoli shook his head, his blood-smeared hand trembling even more now. “S-still, father should take a look…”

Wei Wuxian sighed again but didn’t object. However, when Lan Xiaoli put an arm around his waist to support him, he clicked his tongue. “It’s just my arm. I can walk fine.”

Lan Xiaoli quickly retracted his hand and they walked back in silence.

Maybe Mu Chun was right after all… If Lan Xiaoli continued to be so careless, someone might end up dead because of him.

When Lan Wangji saw his partner return all bloody from what should’ve been a simple hunt, he scrambled to his feet, his movement less elegant than usual. “What happened?”

Still beside himself with guilt, Lan Xiaoli couldn’t look into his father’s eyes, and mumbled in a shaky voice, “It was my fault…”

Wei Wuxian gently slapped the back of Lan Xiaoli’s head to shut him up and stepped forward. “I was careless and got attacked by a spirit.”

Lan Wangji grabbed Wei Wuxian’s wrist for a thorough checkup.

Zhang Chengling gently elbowed Mu Chun. “Hey, why don’t you offer your help? This is your time to shine!”

Mu Chun snorted. They were sitting a few feet away by a small campfire, roasting some fish they had caught in the meantime. “Looks like Hanguang-jun’s got it under control. Where are your dads anyway?”

Zhang Chengling rolled his eyes. “I don’t know where my shifu and my shishu went. Stop calling them my dads. They’re probably taking a stroll.”

A few minutes later, the tension vanished from Lan Wangji’s face. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips and he looked at Wei Wuxian. “You are fine. I have stopped the bleeding, but it is not enough to fully heal the wound.”

Wei Wuxian grinned. “Then let’s get some herbs.”

Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu had not returned yet, so Wei Wuxian handed Zhang Chengling a talisman. “This will let you know where we went. Just follow its lead,” he explained.

“Should I drive the carriage?” Mu Chun’s offer was met with silence. He then pointed to Lan Xiaoli who seemed to be trapped in a daze, and added, “I doubt he’ll be able to focus.”

Mu Chun had a point. Wei Wuxian used his unwounded arm to pat him on the back and said, “Sure, thanks!”

Mu Chun secured his own horse to the carriage, and a short ride later, they arrived at a small, quaint village. Surrounding the village, vast terraced rice paddies stretched for miles on end, undulating out of the hills in various patterns. The water in the fields mirrored the sky, creating a scenery that resembled a stunning painting more than a landscape.

When they hopped off the carriage, they were greeted by an old villager who, despite their wretched appearance, did not hesitate to approach them.

“What happened?” he asked, his face filled with warm concern.

At first, the others thought the concern was meant for Wei Wuxian, but then they noticed that Lan Xiaoli, though unscathed, was also covered in blood and had a worse complexion than Wei Wuxian.

Overwhelmed with shock and guilt, Lan Xiaoli had been so focused on his dad’s well-being that he’d forgotten to clean his hands. As a result, everything he’d touched ended up stained with blood, including his own face and robes.

“We have encountered a beast in the woods,” Wei Wuxian explained.

The old man inhaled sharply. “Oh no…”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow. “What is wrong?”

The old man sighed. “This is a bad sign. I can tell you the whole story over a nice cup of tea,” he put a hand on Lan Xiaoli’s back with a compassionate face, “but let’s get you settled first, shall we?”

“We have natural hot springs here. A nice warm bath should help you recuperate rather quickly,” the man said with a friendly smile, after he’d led them to a nearby guest house.

“Do you also sell medicinal herbs?” Lan Xiaoli asked, more concerned about his dad, “For healing balms…”

“Why, yes, of course. Just down the road,” the man said, pointing to the end of the path, which also seemed to be the other end of the village.

Lan Wangji was about to follow his direction, but Mu Chun stopped him. “I’ll get it.” Lan Wangji paused for a moment, then simply nodded in response.

The interior of the guest house was rather simple. All the furniture was either made of wood or bamboo. The old villager wanted to lead Lan Xiaoli and his dads to the bath, but Wei Wuxian wanted to hear about the beast first, so they gathered round a table in the dining hall.

“There’s this legend that says if such a beast is sighted, it will follow the person who saw it and bring a severe drought with it. Even in a moderate climate like ours, the weather will get so hot and dry that it might wither all crops. We’ve been expecting something like this for some time now, since all the animals we usually hunt for food have already been driven off the land. That’s why we’ve been steering clear of the forest, for as long as no one sees it, it won’t attack. To put it simply, if you don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.”

Lan Xiaoli’s heart dropped. His eyes darted to the table and he swallowed hard.

Wei Wuxian felt just as bad. “So in other words, we’ve brought disaster upon your village… Sorry,” he said.

The elder laughed and waved him off. “It was bound to happen. Nothing to be sorry about.”

Wei Wuxian smiled at the kind man, yet he couldn’t help but find his reaction a bit odd. “You seem rather calm,” he remarked.

“And you seem rather strong,” the old man replied with a wide grin. “I’m sure it’s gonna be fine.”

Wei Wuxian chuckled. “Since we’ve brought it upon you, we might as well defeat it.”

“Much obliged,” the villager said. He had some difficulty getting up from his seat, but gratefully declined Wei Wuxian’s help. “Come boy, I will show you to the bath,” he said, addressing Lan Xiaoli.

Lan Xiaoli carefully parted the curtain to the changing room and was relieved to find it empty. He’d feel less comfortable if strangers were present. With no one else around, the place was quiet, almost serene. Lan Xiaoli enjoyed the tranquillity to the full as he slowly entered. After choosing a bench, he took off his outer robe. As he undressed, he felt the cool and smooth surface of the pendant against his chest.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He’d just fished the silver oval out of his shirt and was gazing at the dragon engraving with its two green jade eyes when he was startled by the last person he wanted to be alone with. Mu Chun was casually leaning against the changing room entrance with his arms crossed. “Must’ve been quite the shock.”

Lan Xiaoli closed his eyes in exasperation. He really could’ve used some time alone right now, but he still nodded. “I am fine. Where is everyone else?”

“Zhang Chengling and the others are not here yet, and your father is taking care of your dad.”

“Did you get the herbs?”

Instead of a response, he only heard rustling. With a furrowed brow, he slightly turned his head to see what Mu Chun was up to, only to discover he was stark naked. Lan Xiaoli instantly jerked his head back, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

As Mu Chun waited for Lan Xiaoli to get ready, he noticed that the latter was awkwardly fumbling with his clothes instead of undressing. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. With a smug grin, he walked over and put an arm around Lan Xiaoli’s neck. “Never seen a naked man before?”

“Of course I have!!” Lan Xiaoli retorted.

“Your dads don’t count.”

“...” Lan Xiaoli squirmed around, feeling a bit uncomfortable. He was as stiff as a stone in Mu Chun’s hand, so Mu Chun decided to show some mercy and release him from his agony.

He gently squeezed Lan Xiaoli’s shoulder. “Okay, okay, relax. I’ll go ahead.”

#forgot to upload last week lol #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #everything annoys me and i'm too hot #eamaith #wei wuxian/lan wangji #wwx/lwj #woh #word of honor #zhou zishu/wen kexing #zzs/wkx #crossover #found family #adoption #original characters

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beachblu3s · 3 years

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I woke up last night and was all like: “what if the rest of the Toilet Trio likes to mess with Hanako sometimes” and I came up with this

#tbhk #jshk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #the toilet trio #I wheezed while drawing this I just couldn’t stop laughing #they’re just all ganging up on him for no reason ahahahah #gcstfgdfgvdy made this to distract from my sadness at not seeing hanako in the chapters #I MISS MY BOY #i miss him so much #WHEN ARE YOU GONNA BRING HIM BACK FOR GOOD AIDAIRO?!? I love you guys but this is too much for my poor heart #day in day out no Hanako and I sad #😔😢😭 COME BACK KING #*wipes tears away*#anyway hope you all have a wonderful day! 💞💕#also I read your tags y’all are so thoughtful ily QwQ #artists on tumblr #beachblu3s art

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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get the girl- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, mentions of ned, betty, mj, and brad warnings: unrequited love (kind of?? implied), lotsss of pining and fluff, a little long about: requested! (DF4) “you fell asleep, i couldn’t move.“ + (DF31) “maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance.” a/n: been wanting to write a peter parker friends to lovers for a while, so thank you so so much for requesting this. i swear i don’t usually take this long?? i got carried away and it got way longer than i expected, i hope you enjoy! thank you for requesting!

peter thinks it’s hopeless. the cliche he’s stuck in seems cruel- no matter what the movies you (and, fine, yes, him sometimes) make him watch say. nothing that happens in them ever transpires to real life; beautiful girls don’t fall in love with their nerdy best friends and guys like peter parker don’t get the girl.

it’s fun to fantasize, though. and especially fun to look at you, particularly when you’re laying on his bed, oblivious to him standing in the doorway, observing as you twist your neck to get a good look at the polaroids he hung up on his wall. a familiar smile grows on your face when your eyes scan them, flickering to the polaroid camera you got him for christmas years ago.

you move to try to get a better look at them without standing up, glancing down when you feel a sharp edge poke at your skin. he watches as your eyebrows furrow in possibly the prettiest way possible and you pull out a polaroid from under you. and oh, peter is just now realizing exactly what that photo is and why it’s on his bed instead of hanging off the empty miniature clothespin that comes from the pack you thrust at his chest when you noticed the increasing pile of pictures on his desk.

he’s moving on autopilot towards you, the foot already halfway through the door used as a stepping stone to go to your side faster. he’s with you in less than three steps, tugging on your ankle and then tackling you as sensibly as possible, laying his whole body on yours. you oof, dropping the picture, having seen it for too little to really question it, and laugh breathlessly. “pete!” you wheeze, curling your arms around his back, one of your hands absentmindedly drawing figures through his hoodie and your other one inching up to his hair, already beginning to thread through the chocolate curls. “yes?” he hums innocently, furtively grabbing the polaroid you dropped and shoving it in the pocket of his hoodie before his arms wrap around your thighs.

“i told you if you keep doing that, one day you’re gonna get hurt,” you scold, looking attentively as peter leans his head against your chest. “me?” he questions, feeling you nod under his cheek. “uh huh, you. you’ll hit your head or something. for a spider-”

“spiderman. superhero,” peter corrects, you ignore him, “you are really clumsy.” peter huffs in dissent, letting a comfortable silence blanket over the both of you for a minute before he looks up at you. “what?” you ask, a smile brimming at the edges of your words. you’re so pretty, peter wants to say, but instead, he goes with a more best-friend-friendly question, “d’you wanna watch a movie?”

you nod at him, pulling your hands away from his head to play with the strings of his hoodie, “sure, what do we want to watch today?” peter’s eyes immediately light up, and you realize you never actually needed to ask. “fine,” you agree, trying not to grin too hard at the way his face brightens. “which one?” you request, watching his freckled cheeks flush pink in excitement, “sixth one. the best one, of course.” you smirk, shrugging, “right, don’t know why i asked, i basically know the movie word for word now.” peter can’t help but give you heart eyes at the knowledge of your knowing the script of his favorite movie. god, you really were the dream girl.

“‘kay, go make some popcorn and get everything ready while i go to the bathroom,” you request, tapping peter’s shoulder as a way to tell peter to let you out from under his body weight. he does the complete opposite of what you imply, however, nuzzling further into your chest and inhaling deeply. “peter,” you laugh, poking his shoulder again, “‘m comfy,” he mumbles, eyes closed. “pete, c’mon, i gotta pee and you’re lying on my bladder,” you whine, “also, don’t you wanna watch episode six of star wars while i eat popcorn and play with your hair?” you singsong. he’s suddenly moving his body off of yours to let you go, although not before pressing a sloppy- friendly- kiss to your arm, “hurry up.”

you giggle as you stand, stretching out your limbs and walking to the bathroom while peter watches you walk away. once he hears the bathroom door shut, he digs his hands into his pockets, fingers tugging on the polaroid he had shoved inside. a smile grows on his face without his permission when he holds it at his stomach, the light reflecting off of the smile that was printed on the picture. he traces a nail over your face, bright and open in the way that makes you gleam. it’s his favorite picture ever, the only one that managed to catch you so in your element, your natural halo of glow apparent in your outline. peter had scrawled the words best girl in red marker on the white space at the bottom- something he thought he could explain away easily if he had to. the picture had its own designated space on his wall, right in the middle so the importance was clear, but it was rarely actually up there, instead always next to him for inspiration when he was doing homework and on his dresser for when he couldn't sleep.

his lips quirk one last time at the photograph before walking to the wall where all the rest of them reside. he hangs it up, glancing at it once more until he turns to walk out of his room.

the movie is ready to play when you walk into the living room, and peter is in the kitchen making your popcorn. “it smells good,” you say in a greeting, sniffing the air and exhaling in satisfaction. peter laughs, “you do that every time we have a movie night.” you tilt your head at him, “do what?” he motions to you, “that. the whole smelling thing and letting me know how good it smells, it’s cute.”

your face heats when it slips out of his lips, pausing to absorb the words he doesn’t seem to have noticed he said. his back is to you, dumping the popcorn into a bowl for you. you can’t see it, but he’s freaking out, trying to think of an excuse if you decide it was too weird. you don’t do anything to imply that, though, just blink until the words dissolve in the air. “thanks,” you finally reply, as nonchalant as you can make it while you grab his m&ms. he hums in response, turning around to head to the couch, “star wars time,” he winks, making you grin.

you follow him as he heads to the couch, settling down next to him once he puts on the movie. the star wars theme starts, the tune fringed by peter’s humming. cute, you think, snuggling deeper into the crook of his arm and shoving popcorn into your mouth. “hmm, good,” you compliment, watching the scenes you’d seen so many times pass on the screens. you mouth along when you recognize the lines until your eyes feel heavy and they shut completely.

quiet thwips wake you up hours later, when the black of the night has bled the sky blue and the stars have littered over the clouds, the moon replacing the sun. you see that the movie is long over when you blink yourself awake, beginning to cuddle deeper into your pillow when you realize it’s too warm and hard to be a pillow. you are met with the vision of your best friend, lip tugged in between his teeth as he concentrates on something behind you. he doesn’t seem to notice that you’re awake, trying to remain as still as possibly while the thwip noises continue. he mutters a curse, scrunching his nose adorably before flicking his eyes to you. they widen when he notices you’re awake, dropping his hand. “what’re you doing?” you yawn, sitting up and away from the warmth of peter’s embrace. “uh- i just- the movie ended and you didn’t wake up, so i tried to get the remote, then i got hungry…” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, scanning the room and you turn to observe, stunned to see the mess of webs and dropped items you weren’t sure how you didn’t hear. “oh my god, what the- did you try to get everything with your webs?” you ask in bewilderment, eyeing a bag of gummy worms open and on the floor, you snap your neck towards him to observe his burning cheeks. “um. yes,” he confesses, blushing harder. “why didn’t you just get up?” you question, looking back at the ruined living room, exhaling in surprise as you notice the remote on the ground.

“you... you fell asleep on me. i couldn’t move.”

you pause, tilting your head slightly to look at peter, “pete, god, that’s so sweet. but you really don’t need to…” you motion to the dropped items, “do all that,” you laugh. peter shrugs, and you notice the tips of his ears are red, too. “i didn’t want to wake you up. i know how much of a light sleeper you are.”

you feel like you’re melting, every single muscle in your body drooping in the loveliness that was peter parker. you weren’t sure how the boy was real. you suddenly drop yourself on him again, wrapping your arms around his burning neck, “thank you, peter,” you say into his skin. like a reflex, his own arms go around your waist, holding you securely so you won’t fall, “‘f course.”

a moment of quiet follows until peter’s stomach rumbles suddenly, making you laugh, “i think i’ve starved you long enough. you pick today. also, when did you get so ripped? your arms are so big--” peter cuts you off with a groan, dropping his head on your shoulder, “you had to ruin the moment--”

peter doesn’t know what it is with you (actually, he does) that makes you so distracting. you’re just waiting in line for lunch, standing next to mj and laughing occasionally when she says something. all you’re doing is standing, and maybe it’s peter’s boy-hormones combined with his spider-hormones that magnify every single perfect feature of yours, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. you’re so pretty. the curve of the smiles that pulls into your cheeks, the twinkle that remains permanent in the color of your eyes, the way you look in that skirt--

“maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance,” a voice points out from next to him. peter scoffs, ripping his sight away from you to turn to ned. “i talk to her all the time. she’s my best friend.” ned shakes his head and sighs, “you talk to her about star wars, you talk to me about star wars, how is that supposed to help you have a chance--”

“i have a chance,” peter mumbles, trying to believe it himself, “she knows that she and you stand at different levels of best friends--” ned looks offended, “different levels? what is that supposed to mean--” peter stares exasperatedly at his best friend, “it means i want to date her and i don’t want to date you--”

“that’s a little rude--”

“hey you guys,” you greet, sitting down on the seat in front of peter’s and patting the seat next to you for mj. she stares at you silently, and you frown, patting the seat harder, “sit.” you instruct. she sighs and does what she’s told. “what were you guys talking about?” you ask, picking up your small plate of cherry pie to replace the bowl of orange slices that you took from peter’s plate. “thank you,” peter mumbles, digging his fork into the pie the moment you set it down. you hum, stealing a cherry tomato from his salad.

“oh, you know. the usual, your friendship with peter,” the latter shoots him a look and you raise an eyebrow, “that’s the usual? a little strange, don’t you think?” ned shrugs, “did you know that you and i stand at ‘different levels’ as peter’s best friends?” peter nearly chokes on his pie, glaring at ned. you cock your head at peter, thinking as you steal another tomato, “i… guess i thought so? i’ve known peter since, like, preschool, and we tell each other everything.”

“everything, huh?” ned wonders, a sound of pain falling from his lips when peter kicks him under the table. “peter.” he hisses. mj narrows her eyes at the two boys, “what is going on with you guys today? you’re acting weirder than normal.” peter’s face screws up in confusion, looking to you for help. you shrug, “she’s right.”

“i usually am,” mj mutters.

“so what is it?” you query, popping an orange slice as peter cringes at the mere thought of the taste. “peter has a crush,” ned informs helpfully, oblivious to peter’s dismay, “i- i don’t-”

you blink, feeling mj’s elbow shove into your ribs as her own way to make sure you’re okay. you ignore her, and it tells her everything she needs to know. “it’s liz, right?” you guess, trying to mask the hurt on your face with a teasing smile, “i saw you looking at her the other day. she’s pretty.” “no! it’s not- i mean, yes, liz is pretty, but i don’t like her or anything- ned doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” peter rambles. “pete, you don’t have to be embarrassed, i’m just upset you didn’t tell me,” you lie. peter’s eyebrows furrow, “you’re just upset that… i didn’t tell you?” he repeats. you nod, biting into another orange slice. “just that?” he asks meekly. you cock your head at him.

“i just- never mind. it’s not liz,” he says, poking at his pie. “so you admit you have a crush?” you start with a fake smirk, jabbing at your best friend with your fork, “just not on liz?”

“i didn’t… i didn’t say that-” peter stutters. your eyes narrow at him, lip tugged between your teeth, “i’m gonna find out who it is by the end of the day.”

peter is unfortunately sure you will. he’s not subtle as is, but you’re never deliberately looking for the signs, which makes it a lot easier to hide his embarrassingly large crush on you. but now, you'll be paying attention to his every move, and knowing you, he knows you won’t stop until you find out what you want, unless he tells you to back off. but, does he want you to back off?

he pushes his tray away, suddenly not feeling so hungry.

you stay true to your promise, hanging off his arm for the rest of the day, observing the way he acts around some of your classmates, but somehow not noticing the way he blatantly refuses to look at you- which proves humiliatingly difficult; peter never realized exactly how much he turned to look if you laughed at the joke too, or to catch one of your smiles when you hear something funny or peter whispers a joke into the shell of your ear.

by the end of the day when you’re walking to the train station together, you’re groaning at him, putting your full weight on his arm as you tug at him. “who is it? is it betty? oh my god, is it mj? is that why you kept looking at her?” you ask excitedly. peter wants to tell you the truth: he wasn’t looking at mj, he was looking at you, because as much as he tried, he couldn’t pry his attention off of you, who just so happened to sit next to mj.

“not mj. not betty,” he replies, pulling you inside the subway and scanning for free seats. you trail behind him when he finds a spot, letting you take it as he stands in front of you. “not them… it has to be liz, right?” you pry, sighing when he shakes his head. “brad- it’s brad, right?” you grin, whining when he denies it again. “can you just tell me if i got them already? i’ve practically said everyone in the school,” you complain, “they do go to school with us, right?” at peter’s nod, you drop your head against his abdomen, “and you have not said their name yet.”

“peter,” you drag out, reaching out for his hand to pull it, “just tell me! i can probably set you up with them!”

“y/n, just drop it,” he sighs, and you sigh too, mumbling a fine before noticing an older lady standing at the door. you wave her over, standing next to peter and letting her take your seat. peter feels like his heart will pop out of his chest.

the bumps of the subway push you close enough to him to feel the thundering of his heart, and your eyebrows knit together in worry, “are you okay? your heart’s beating, like, really fast-” yeah and your hand on my chest is not helping- “‘m fine.”

“is it because of the crush thing?” yes, “because i’m sorry about annoying you about it so much, if you don’t want to talk about it, i won’t bother you with it. just know that if they don’t like you back, they’re insane, because you, peter parker, are a ca-”

it was like a rubber band snapping, and peter suddenly couldn’t help it anymore, pushing his lips against yours, effectively cutting you off and catching you so off-guard, you freeze for a second before reacting, pulling his jaw closer. you almost tug him back when he pulls away, before you remember you’re still standing on a crowded, moving subway, and while kissing your best friend had been all you wanted for way too long, you were absolutely going to miss your stop if you didn’t stop.

“i- i’m sorry, i just-” peter stammered, stepping back. “no! so, please don’t apologize, seriously, it’s fine, it’s, like, better than fine.”

a beat of awkward silence passed before the tube halted to the stop right before yours. “it’s you. in case that didn’t… come clear. you’re the person i like,” peter informs quietly. “really?” you ask, cheek already pulling in a shy smile. “really,” peter assures.

this time, you don’t really care if you miss your stop, and neither does peter, now that he knows that, sometimes, peter parker does get the girl.

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navegandoaciegas · 3 years

Text

Not so shy now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: You’ve been pushing Bucky’s buttons for days, and he finally snaps.

Warnings: smut, 18+, watersports, omorashi, dom!Bucky, brat!reader, a lil’ bit of humiliation and daddy kink, outdoor sex, rough sex.

A/N: I don’t usually write dom!Bucky, but I hope you’ll like this!

You weren’t one for the outdoors, that Bucky had found out the hard way a couple hours into your mission together, being the sole witness to your bitching and complaining for hours on end.

10 days later, all he wanted to do was bludgeon you to sleep until the mission was over.

Or alternatively, fuck you stupid until you’d all but forget about your backpack being too heavy, the bugs being gross, the blisters in your feet too painful and the meals too bland.

He’d been painfully hard for days and his ears just needed a break from your endless complaints, and stuffing your loud mouth with his aching cock seemed like a practical solution to both problems.

And Bucky was nothing but a practical man.

“Barnes,” you huffed, voice coming out in a childish whine, “Bucky? Buck? Let’s take a break, I need to pee.”

And of course, the biggest problem that had surfaced in your time together: you drank like a camel but your bladder had the capacity of a toddler’s.

“You went less than an hour ago, you can’t be serious right now.”

You, on the other hand, watched in amusement as Bucky turned around, a murderous glint in his eyes. You wondered how much more he could take, how much more you could push, until your grumpy but collected colleague would finally snap.

You felt giddy with excitement imagining all the ways that vibranium arm of his could put you in your place. Would he slap you, choke you, pull your hair? Would he be condescending or mean, how much would he degrade you, and most importantly how much could you take before you broke?

“I couldn’t really go,” you shrugged, feigning innocence, “I was scared that a bug would crawl up my ass, to be honest. And I have a shy bladder, you know. Can’t pee if you’re hovering behind the trees.”

“I wasn’t hovering,” he cried out in disbelief, crossing his arms over his middle.

You smiled wryly, following the flexing muscles of his bulging biceps with your eyes.

“You kind of have a hovering problem, Barnes. A staring one too but we can unpack all that later, I really need to pee right now.”

You stomped over to him, swinging your backpack over your shoulder and hitting him square in the chest with it, mumbling a ‘thanks’. He let out a wheeze, stumbling back as you kept walking.

“You fuckin’ brat,” you heard him grumble, “Been gettin’ on my damn nerves all week.”

You heard a loud thump behind you, and before you could turn around, you were yanked by the arm, and your back hit the trunk of a tree as Bucky caged you against it with his beefy frame.

“It’s about time someone put you in your place, isn’t it? You’ve been running your mouth, so loud and so fuckin’ annoying, bitching and moaning about everything.”

You opened your mouth to sass back at him, but his rough, callous hand grabbed your jaw, shutting you up.

“I’ll give you a reason to bitch and moan, sweetheart.”

Before you could process it, Bucky slanted his mouth against yours in a messy kiss, all clattering teeth and drool, his hands forcefully roaming over your body, you tightly clutching his biceps for support.

You were dripping already, panties ruined with the amount of slick that leaked out of your pussy.

You’d been fantasizing about this moment for nearly a year, and in the end it had only taken you 10 days to crack your colleague. Although, as one of his hands groped your breasts and the other kneaded your ass, you had the feeling that he would be the one to crack you. And your back, and neck.

His hips bucked against yours, and your walls fluttered against nothing as you felt his hard length press on you. You’d accidentally seen him before, and you knew he was going to fill you up like no one ever could before him.

You could ignore the pressure in your bladder and the simmering pain in your lower belly for the moment, in favor of losing yourself in the warmth of his built body, in the shivers that ran down your spine with every one of his rough touches.

In a blur, your t-shirt was discarded, your bra ripped and your pants and panties shoved down your legs, while he stood completely clothed over you.

His thick fingers weren’t delicate when they cupped your cunt, harshly pressing down on your engorged clit, but he was so intoxicating that you could forget the scratch of his nails and the mosquitoes tormenting your ankles.

Fuck, neither of you smelled like roses after a whole day of hiking, but all that you could feel was Bucky and the goosebumps and love bites he left behind.

He leaned back just to watch his fingers dip into your dripping folds, smirking at the way you shuddered.

“Fuck, I just knew you were a fuckin’ whore, you’re so wet for me.”

He plunged inside you, feeling your walls clamp down on his hand.

“What, cat’s got your tongue? You’ve been pestering me all week, if I knew this would get you to shut up I would have done it before, doll.”

You moaned his name when his fingers curled inside you, and the tingly sensation in your lower abdomen made your eyes widen in realization.

You still needed to piss. A lot. And the more Bucky’s vibranium hand jerked inside your pussy, the more your urge grew, the pressure so painfully, maddening pleasant.

Bucky latched his lips onto your pulse point, sucking a bruise on it. You clenched your thighs, whining in shame and need, as you fought the urge to release in his hand.

If you accidentally pissed on him, you’d just quit your job and change identity.

You couldn’t bear the shame of it, brows scrunching as you willed your tense muscles to hold in.

Bucky was none the wiser, continuing his ministration and mistaking your heaving chest and copious sweat for pleasure.

It was delirious, brain turned to mush as part of you wanted to let go and cum (and piss), while the other restrained your urges, and witheld your orgasm.

Bucky’s thick fingers inched you closer and closer to your release, but you bit on your lip and dug your nails in his back to stop you from falling off the edge.

“Don’t hold yourself back, doll. I wanna see you fall apart on my fingers and on my cock, wanna make you cream my fingers, pretty girl. I know you can do it.”

Your entire body shook as he doubled his efforts, panting against your ear as his arm vibrated inside your pussy.

You squeezed your eyes shut, body on fire as you tried and failed to conjure any gross image that could sour your mood. None of it worked, though.

A sharp yet somewhat delicate slap on your face brought you face to face with Bucky’s pissed expression.

“Damn brat, never doing what she’s asked,” he tsked, shaking his head, “You’re lucky you’re so pretty.”

You whined in disappointment but internally cheered when his fingers slipped out of you, and despite the emptiness he left behind, your aching bladder could finally sigh in relief.

Relief that was short lived when he manhandled you again, spinning you around and slamming you front against the tree, ass up in the air.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” you heard him mumble as he tugged his sweats and boxers down to free himself, “Wanted you for so long.”

He slapped his leaking cock on your ass, hot and heavy.

“Please, Bucky, please,” you whimpered, parting your legs wider.

You should have been begging for him to stop, but the ache in your pussy was too unbearable, and the prospect of his fat cock splitting you in half too appetizing.

“I like the sound of that, c-could get used to this.”

You felt as the breath had been knocked out of you when he breached your entrance, your gummy walls sucking him in. He felt better than you’d imagined all those lonely nights with your fingers down your panties, his name on your tongue as you made yourself cum imagining his hand instead of yours.

His breaths tickled the back of your ear as he gave you time to adjust, bracing one arm against the tree and the other on your shoulder.

Once he started thrusting inside you, the ache returned, stronger than it had been before.

His cock hit all the right spots inside you, which also meant that it jammed against your bursting bladder with each forceful snap of his hips.

The heat in your core was so great that you couldn’t feel the bark scratch against your chest, or the sweat trickling down his hair onto your back.

Again, you wanted to beg him to stop but words failed you, and all you could muster were some broken whimpers as your tongue lolled out of your mouth and you lost your mind on his dick.

The more he pistoned inside you, the more your need to cum grew, the more the idea of pissing all over yourself and Bucky seemed less scary.

“I can feel your tight pussy clamping down on me, doll. So tight, so good to me. Fuck,” he groaned, lost in his own pleasure, cock swelling inside, “‘M all yours, all yours.”

His arm snaked around your waist to pull you flush to his chest, which proved to be an awful move when his hand pressed against your bladder and you shrieked, a spurt of piss erupting out of you.

“God, you’re squirting? Oh God, fuck,” he grunted, clenching his teeth, “I’ve never made anyone do that before.”

You wanted to laugh, and cry.

“Bucky, Buck, stop, please, stop, I can’t, I-“

“Yes, you can, you’re doing so good for me, c’mon.”

“Bucky, no.”

Your tone was much harder than before, and Bucky froze like a deer caught in the headlight behind you.

You could feel his heaving chest on your back, and could sense his confusion in the air.

“But I thought…?” he muttered, pulling out of you, “Did I hurt you?”

You debated lying to him, but settled on telling the truth despite how humiliating it could be.

“No,” you hesitated, drawing in a deep breath, “‘S just, I really need to pee, I can’t hold it anymore.”

The air was still for a moment. You gulped, not daring to meet his eyes. After what felt like a century, you heard a low growl behind you.

“You and this damn piss,” he grunted, “Gettin’ on my nerves again, you fuckin’ brat. Always drinking water and whining like a child.”

His fingers dug painfully in your hips, surely leaving bruises behind. You were too speechless to protest.

“‘Bout time I teach you a lesson, sweetheart. I’ve been too good to you, and like the little brat you are, you’ve taken advantage.”

Bucky slammed his cock inside you again, pistoning his hips with brutal force while his hand found your front again.

The pad of his callous finger traced the bulge of your bladder, tickling the skin before pressing down on the swelling.

You had no time to think or react before your body acted on its own, releasing another spurt of hot piss against the tree.

You clenched your muscles to hold the rest of the piss in, and Bucky groaned behind you, feeling your pussy throb around him. You could tell he was getting off on your humiliation, watching you struggle to keep your dignity as he played your body like a fiddle.

“And I thought you were squirting,” he chuckles, “C’mon, piss all over yourself like the dumb bitch you are, princess. Show daddy how stupid his little toy is.”

Had you been more conscious, his alternating moods would have given you whiplash, but your sole reaction was to clamp down harder on him, biting on your lips until you could taste your blood on your tongue.

His cock dragging up and down your walls, the pressure in your cunt, the pain in your bladder, his hand on your belly, it was all becoming too much.

You opened your mouth to scream and all that came out were incoherent mumblings as you released all over yourself and his cock, your hot piss coming out in spurts as he kept fucking you.

“Dumb fuckin’ brat, you’re gonna be a good girl and cream all over daddy’s fat cock, aren’t you?”

You nodded, trembling head to toe with the sweetest release you’d ever felt, mind completely wiped as you lost control over your own body.

“Daddy, daddy please,” you wailed, “Make me cum, please.”

Your voice didn’t sound like your own as you begged, Bucky’s words lost on you when the ring in your ears got louder and louder.

You didn’t realize you were cumming until waves of searing hot pleasure crashed through you, the orgasm so intense you felt like you were going to black out.

You had the impression of being underwater, blissfully disoriented from reality, Bucky’s cock being to only thing to ground you.

You felt him throb and grow inside you, and he came with a grunt, filling your cunt with his hot cum so much that it began spilling out of your pussy while he was still hard inside you.

You both slumped against the tree, his arms around your chest, his head on your shoulder.

You were covered in dirt, piss, sweat and cum, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Not so shy now, that bladder of yours, hm?”

——

Pease let me know if you enjoyed the filth! Leave some feedback and reblog if you can! ❤️

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine

2K notes · View notes

fe-fictions · 1 year

Note

Where? ~oh~ where? Have those Henry fics gone?~ I needs my crowman

(I've got some Henry taking care of Robin and Morgan when they get sick! Huge thanks to @zankavogue , who compiled a huge archive of fics from the deactivated blog! I'll be reuploading as many as possible!!! U V U)

Plus, you were both Plegians, so it was nice to learn about your roots.

It was a magical time. Or at least, it would have been. You woke up the morning after you came home and found yourself unable to get out of bed.

No one was immune from it, not even sweet, innocent little blood bags like Morgan (Henry’s words, not yours).

So Henry quickly went from teasing you and being fascinated by how miserable you were to going into full-blown panic.

You didn’t.

“Gods, Henry- did you have to send that filthy animal to me? I’m literally down the block! It would take you fifteen minutes to-”

“Fifteen minutes is a waste of time! Morgan and Robin could be dead by then! And if it’s either of them, it’s no joke, nya ha!”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“It’s nervous laughter!” He chuckled again, though judging by how pale his face was, it seemed to be true.

Maribelle simply scoffed and hurried to the bedroom, ready to treat her friend.

“I-it’s a disaster.” You wheezed, not before you were overcome by coughing. “Anything y-you can do will be a welcome remedy.”

“Luckily for you, there’s nothing here that herbs and plenty of rest won’t fix. Now Morgan might be a little trickier, given his age...but we can at least get started with you.”

Maribelle was quick to send Henry off to grind up the herbs, preparing some disgusting concoction guaranteed to get your body back to normal.

Presuming Henry could put it together.

“Now, when did you start to feel ill?”

“W-well, if I’m honest… It started around-”

Crash

“Ah, gods- I broke the cup!!”

“-The time we got home, last night. It was late-”

Smash

“The pestle’s shattered!!”

“-And I just thought I was tired, but...my head feels about the same as-”

Bang

“The herbs are everywhere!!”

“HENRY!!” Maribelle shouted out the door, “What in the gods’ names are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess!” Henry apologized, his voice shaky and unsure. “I-I just meant to help a bit, but it looks like I’m making things worse, nya ha!”

“Why don’t you come and sit,” Maribelle pinched her brow, “Just settle down until you stop breaking things.”

You watched as Henry wandered back into the bedroom, looking surprisingly pale and nervous. You had never quite seen him in such a way, before.

After all, it was always good times and weird vibes with your husband. Since when did he become the anxious type?

“I’ll be right back, Robin. I’ll get your medicine.”

“Give some to Morgan, first.” You asked, “I can wait.”

Maribelle nodded to you before taking off, leaving you alone with your husband who was bouncing his leg and fidgeting with his hands with a nervousness that you’d never seen before.

For a few moments, it was quiet, listening to the rhythmic, rapid tapping of his heel against the stone. Eventually, though, you would have to snap him out of it.

“Henry, a-are you all right?” You questioned as gently as you could. Henry started to nod, giving you a cracked, faux grin. Then he paused, his smile fell, and he shook his head.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Henry.” You tried to assure him. But he shook his head, folding his arms tightly.

“You don’t know that! All it takes is one thing to go wrong and it could be bye-bye wifey, or even bye-bye baby, and I...oh, I couldn’t handle that. Nope, not one bit.”

It was certainly a reasonable concern.

He took your hand, revealing trembling fingers. You squeezed it tightly, trying your best to comfort him despite your situation.

“Maribelle will take care of us. We’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

“Henry,” You pressed a finger to his lips, “You’re overthinking.”

“B-but I just...I worry about you guys…”

“Gosh, Robin...how’re you able to stay so calm all the time?” He looked at you incredulously, “I’m about ready to pop out of my skin and just run around like a headless Risen!”

“Experience.” You laughed.

Maribelle came in not long after, informing you both that the flu didn’t appear to be as bad as it could be.

Henry shared a look with you, seeing your encouraging smile. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I can handle it, I promise!”

“That’s fine by me.” You agreed; the less disgusting, bitter herbs you had to ingest, the better.

“He can take care of us.” You told her, “I trust him.”

“You got nothin’ to worry about, Maribelle! We just take it a day at a time, and it’ll be great, nya ha!”

“Robin, if anything changes, or you need help...please don’t hesitate to call me or the other healers immediately.”

“I will.”

“I do mean anything, dear.”

“...I will.”

“If Henry does one thing wrong-”

“Hey!”

“I got it, Maribelle.” You chuckled, waving her away. “Thanks for your concern. We’ll be sure to call for you if we need anything. But I’m positive Henry will take care of us just fine.”

“You can bet your organs on it!” He grinned, giggling happily with his wife’s support. Maribelle gave him a long, hard look, but eventually took her leave.

Henry was quick to move Morgan’s crib into the bedroom, guaranteeing that he could keep track of both of you and ensure you were both recovering nicely at the same time.

While it was heartbreaking listening to Morgan’s discomfort and those tiny baby coughs, it helped to see him improve day after day.

At least there wouldn’t be another opportunity for him to break anything else of Maribelle’s, seeing as you wouldn’t be getting sick again.

You would take extra steps to ensure that just so he wouldn’t frighten Maribelle with another horrifying “gift”.

#henry #robin #morgan #fe 13 #fire emblem awakening #henry x robin #henbin lol #robenry #henbin #IDK WHAT THE COUPLE NAME IS #fe-fictions #fe fictions #f!robin #fem!robin #family fluff #hurt and comfort #sick prompt #sweet baby morgan #papa henry to the rescue!!!!

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hellion-writes · 2 years

Text

Harmonic Humor

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x reader (platonic), Esme Cullen x reader (platonic)

Pronouns used: none (completely gender neutral), no description of the reader except that they’re a vampire

Warnings: none, just a crackfic about doing dumb shit with our favorite himbo : )

“EMMETT, WHAT THE FUCK?” Your screams between barking laughter and breathless gasps pierced the silence of the house, making Esme nearly jump out of her skin. Don’t get her wrong, hearing you laugh made her feel happy because she wasn’t sure how well you were acclimating to their lifestyle, but she could never recall such a time where she’s been startled so hard. She wasted no time in racing up the stairs to where the laughter was streaming from and pressed her ear against the door (not that she would need to, with her hearing and the sheer volume of the ruckus).

What she heard confused her to no end.

The sound of a… something distorted Emmett’s tone as he wheezed with you. If she listened carefully, she managed to pick out what he was saying. It was mostly him singing along to some electronic pop music- some Korean band he was into at the moment, BTW? No, that wasn’t it, but it was close. At the moment the band’s name wasn’t her main concern.

“You can do it too~!” He sang out, hitting every note possible with his vocal range in fast runs. His harmonic wheezes created chords that mingled together perfectly and it was only then that she found out what object was making that strange voice: a harmonica. But how could he talk through it? Unless…?

The door was slammed open and the sight of you dangling a plastic harmonica over your gaping jaws like some sort of reptile while Emmett rolled on the floor laughing hysterically made exasperation and slight anger well up in her.

Your heads snapped towards Esme as you both tried to act normal; you quickly hid the harmonica behind your back while Emmett scrambled up to his feet and stood next to you. Your nervous smiles and wide eyes reminded her of the children she used to teach getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.

“Hey, Esme,” you began awkwardly.

“Hello, (Y/n),” she drawed out. Her gaze moved to pin Emmett. “What’s going on here?”

“We were just messing around with harmonicas-”

“(Y/n), sweetheart, I was talking to Emmett. Where’s the harmonica?”

Emmett glanced at you and Esme could tell that it was taking every force in the universe to stop you from laughing again. She softened, but only fractionally before she put on a reprimanding exterior once more.

The second Emmett opened his mouth and, with the most shameful tone a man with a harmonica in his throat could muster, sighed out a defeated “it’s in me.”

You snorted, but were quick to stifle your amusement when you felt Esme’s icy gaze on you. For such a loving, motherly person, she can put the fear of god in you when she wants to.

Esme sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, ““Emmett, please go and get the harmonica out of you so we can have a proper discussion.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emmett walked out of the room with his head hung low. The next couple of hours were spent sitting next to Emmett on the couch while Esme lectured you both on how swallowing foreign objects could be dangerous for your health. You and Emmett couldn’t look at each other in fear that you would start laughing all over again. In the end, your harmonicas were confiscated and you both were banned from hunting for a week.

You followed Emmett back up to his room and closed the door softly behind you. You looked at him and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I can swallow a whole bunch of rocks or something next time and become a maraca. Maybe we can get someone else to swallow a dog toy squeaker for the high notes.”

“You’re a genius,” Emmett breathed out. “We’ll be internet famous in no time.”

#hellion writes twilight #emmett cullen x reader #esme cullen x reader #twilight x reader #twilight reader insert #x reader

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

Web of Lies

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.

warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff

word count: 4.3k

Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.

A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.

Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.

To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building.

Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.

It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.

Why can’t Jungkook see that?

For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see.

He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up.

“Gotta confront the fucker.”

Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.

You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”

“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”

“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”

“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”

You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.

“Well, is he, Soyeon?”

The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.

“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.

Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along.

The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…

“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”

Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.

Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to.

“When?”

“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.

“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!”

You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.

It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence?

Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.

“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.

“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”

“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame.

“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.

“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day.

“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”

It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?

“I know,” you whimper and run off.

Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks.

“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood.

“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.

“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him.

“She needs time—”

“Fuck off.”

When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.

“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.

Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…

“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”

Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow.

The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”

“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”

She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”

“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”

I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.

“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”

“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone.

You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”

“Jimin?”

“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.

“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”

An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.

You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise.

“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.

“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”

“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.

“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”

“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"

“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!”

He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.

Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”

His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat.

“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.”

His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.

You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”

“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”

You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips.

He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.

It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.

At least no one’s watching him now.

You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”

“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?”

Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”

“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?”

You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.

“Yes.”

“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook imagines #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts #networkbangtan

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quaranmine · 3 years

Text

The Babysitting Game

They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, Grian doesn't have a child but he does have an egg and a village. That’s basically the same thing, right?

Grian acquires an egg. His friends help him.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly fluff! Hermits: Grian, Mumbo, Pearl, and Scar. My first publish fanfic since 2016 and my first hermitcraft fanfic :D ao3 link and some inspirations to be linked in a reblog

Words: 2862

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"What if I touched it really quick?" Scar asked.

"No, don’t-don’t touch the egg," Grian said seriously. "Look, I even made a sign! It specifically says ‘Do not touch.’" He gestured to the sign in question, but Scar ignored him.

"Can I rub it?" he said. The man leaned over it, studying the object carefully. Grian hadn’t known where to place the egg when he got it, and it was just sitting on an anvil for the time being. He didn’t even have a starter house yet, but clearly he was going to need something soon if he was going to protect the egg from some of the more . . . mischievous residents of their Boatem village.

“No, don’t touch the egg! Scar-” Grian walked closer, hands outstretched, just in time to see Scar reach out with his hand and pat the egg.

Vworp!

The egg disappeared into thin air.

Dragon eggs had a tendency to do that. It was a survival tactic--Grian didn't really know how it worked, but just as endermen could teleport away from danger, so could the egg if it were touched. Now whether or not Scar was dangerous remained up for debate…

Scar giggled. "Oh, where did you go?" he sang, hunting around the area.

Well, he COULD be pretty scary sometimes.

"Scarrrr," Grian whined, helping him look. "I told you not to touch it!"

"It's over here!" Scar shouted, finding the egg at the bottom of a small slope nearby. "Just one more time…." He reached out again.

"No!" Grian said, slapping his hand away. "Look, you've got to pick it up the right way." He demonstrated, carefully lifting the egg and placing it in a pouch slung over his back. He had hurriedly stitched it together not too long ago, worried that transporting the egg normally might break it. “If you do it roughly, you’ll scare it and it’ll teleport away again.”

"I see!" said Scar.

"Now, please, don't touch the egg.”

"Oh," Scar said. He straightened. "You're really serious about this."

Grian glared. "I am."

"I'm sorry, I just thought it was funny!"

Grian sighed. "It's okay, Scar. It's just--this thing is a baby, it needs to be handled gently! You can't just go around scaring it! What if it falls into a hole or something?" he hissed.

"Oh my god," Scar laughed, "you're its mother now!"

"No, no, I'm not!"

"You are!" Scar cried. He suddenly stopped. "Oh no, didn't you kill its mother?"

"Well it doesn't know that!" Grian snapped. "Truthfully I didn't realize there would be an egg! And I couldn't just leave it, you know! Here, look at this." Grian gently withdrew the egg from its pack, and Scar moved closer. He held it up to the sun. "Look at that."

The sun shined dark red through the deep purple shell of the egg, making it glow within. In the middle, the silhouette of a curled up creature was illuminated. Blood vessels radiated outward, and at the bottom there was a blank space that Grian assumed was air. The egg’s shell was too thick for any detail to be made out, but the processes happening within were clear. Grian was enchanted with it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

"Wow," Scar breathed. "There's actually a dragon in there! What're you gonna do with it after it hatches?"

"Well, I haven't exactly thought that far--I just want to worry about keeping it safe first. I mean, what do you even do with this thing?" Grian put the egg back in its satchel, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I suppose you keep it warm and safe but, like, I don't know what else-"

"I could help!" Scar said.

"You were just playing with it!"

"Hey," Scar said defensively, "that was before I knew more about it!"

Grian rolled his eyes.

“What are you guys doing over here?” said Mumbo, wandering over. Grian just knew he’d been up to something, and sure enough, there was a new tree next to his little collection of chests. Grian wasn’t very bothered by it, because he already had a plan to get Mumbo back for it.

“Grian is just showing me his new baby!” Scar teased. “He’s a mom now.”

“I am NOT its mother,” replied Grian tiredly, but he smiled at the sight of the other man.

“A baby?” Mumbo asked, choosing to ignore the rest of Scar’s statement.

“A dragon egg,” Grian answered. “I found it in the End.” He paused for a moment, feeling almost bad. “After I killed the dragon.”

“Grian! You’ve orphaned it!” Mumbo sounded scandalized.

“Why do you all keep bringing that up!?” he defended, glancing between Mumbo and Scar, who both gave him disapproving, albeit playful, looks. “I know you’re Mr. Peace, Love and Plants this time, but we’ve always killed the dragon in every new world!”

“Well, I guess that’s true, but it is a little sad isn’t it? You’re taking care of it but only because you killed its mum.”

“Yeah,” was all Grian said. The dragon always needed to be taken care of in each new world they visited, and while it was always a bit of a shame, he’d never really contemplated it that much. After all, he normally wasn’t the one who fought it--that last time in Evo aside. He didn’t really know what he had gotten into but he felt deeply like he needed to protect this egg. It was like a tug in his chest, drawing him into the egg and telling him not to let go.

“Show him the egg!” Scar said.

“You just want to see it again,” Grian replied, but pulled the egg out of the satchel again anyway for Mumbo to see. The surface of the egg wasn’t smooth, like a chicken’s egg, but bumpy. The purple spots almost seemed to glow, and occasionally little violet particles drifted off of it. Grian felt like he could stare at it in awe all day, and apparently his friends felt the same.

“How’re you going to keep it warm?” asked Mumbo after a moment of admiring it. “That satchel isn’t going to be enough, and to be frank, I don’t see you spending any time sitting on it, even if the mental image is pretty funny.”

Grian rolled his eyes at the comment, but thought about it. How would he incubate it? He may have had wings, but he didn’t know anything about eggs, other than that it was a safe bet to assume it needed to be kept warm. “I'm not sure, actually.”

“Hey, let me design something for you!” Mumbo said excitedly. “I could probably use some redstone and make an incubator of some sort for you.”

Grian smiled. “I’d really appreciate that.”

Asking Mumbo to create a contraption for him--what could go wrong?

•·················•·················•

“I’m not wearing this thing, you know.” Grian said, holding the contraption while Mumbo wheezed with laughter in the background. The design that Mumbo had come up with was essentially a backpack with heating elements strung through it, except for one thing . . .

“You-you wear it in the front,” Mumbo choked out, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Yes, I see that,” Grian replied, unamused.

“Like a swaddle!”

“Yes, I see that.”

Mumbo laughed harder. Grian had to begrudgingly admit that it was well designed, however. It would fit the egg perfectly, keep it warm, and most important it was mobile to ensure that he could take the egg with him. It was thoughtful, especially since Mumbo knew Grian was quite protective of it.

“I’m not wearing this thing,” Grian repeated. “I’m not going to let you all laugh at me while I walk around the server with an egg swaddled to me!”

“I thought you’d say that,” Mumbo chuckled. “Here, you can switch the straps around and turn it into a backpack.” He unclipped the straps and moved them into the new configuration.

“Thank you, Mumbo,” he said gratefully. “This will certainly do the trick.”

“Glad to hear it mate,” Mumbo replied. “Now, while you’re here, may I ask why there is an incredibly tall tree on top of my camper?”

“Sorry, got to go!” blurted Grian, snatching the backpack from Mumbo’s arms and flying off in a burst of feathers.

“That’s unfair, I don’t even have an elytra yet to go chase him down with,” muttered the man as he watched Grian disappear.

•·················•·················•

Grian sat in the grass in front of his starter home and rubbed his eyes wearily. He was exhausted. Is this how all parents feel? he wondered. Was he just uniquely unqualified to be one? After all, this was only an egg! It hadn’t even hatched yet and he was already tired of keeping up with it.

Carrying it in the backpack was heavy, and Grian tired out quickly. It was hot on his back, and Grian found himself having to take breaks to avoid overheating. It was also cumbersome, and he found it difficult to build with as it shifted his weight. He almost fell off the roof once while building it! Of course, having wings meant that Grian could catch himself easily, but it had still given him quite the scare. Dragon eggs were pretty sturdy, and would teleport themselves out of danger if possible, but he was still so paranoid about breaking it. And now there was the Boatem Hole to worry about--what if it teleported itself into the void? These things kept Grian awake at night.

But if he left it...well, just like Grian had a tendency to lose items in his chest monsters, he also had a tendency to forget where he placed things. He had been forced to go back and rescue the egg from some place he’d left it more than once, which he wasn’t exactly proud of. What sort of parent forgot their child?

. . . He was definitely not admitting to being its parent.

Oh God, what did I get myself into?

“Hey Grian, what’re you up to?” came a voice, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up and saw Pearl standing over him. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her hands were in her hoodie pockets. She took a seat on the ground next to him, and followed his gaze overlooking the Boatem village. “What’s on your mind?”

“This--this egg,” said Grian. It sat next to him in its backpack, still radiating heat. “I don’t know what to do with it. I’m just so tired of carrying it around!”

“I have to admit,” Pearl said, “I didn’t expect you to immediately adopt a baby dragon the very next time I saw you.”

“Yeah, well, it was an accident.” Grian groaned. “I don’t know what to do with it now, let alone when it hatches!”

Pearl thought for a moment. “You know, the rest of us are all here for you. The other hermits would be happy to help out, I’m sure.”

The other hermits . . . well of course they would. If it was one thing they were all good at, it was supporting each other. Scar had already taken a particular interest in the egg, although Grian was still a little suspicious of him scaring it again. Mumbo had specially designed an incubator for it. Pearl was visiting him to check up on him and offer help.

All Grian had to do was convince himself to let it go. To let them help.

“I know that but . . .”

“But what? Have you had any reason to believe they wouldn’t?” Pearl asked.

“Well, no.” He thought for a while. He thought of how his friends would lend materials when needed, or how they’d help replace someone’s armor and items if they were lost. He thought about the days where they all teamed up and chose one hermit to help out, and he thought about all the things they did for the good of the entire community without even being asked.

His desire to protect the egg was strong, and putting it into the hands of another person almost felt like simultaneously a betrayal of the egg itself and the biggest leap of faith he could take. But the hermits were good at leaps of faith, because someone was always there to catch you.

“You think it’d be okay?”

“I know it’ll be okay,” Pearl replied. “I haven’t been here very long but from what I’ve seen, I know they’d all help. They wouldn’t hurt it. They might be a little mischievous sometimes,” she said, glancing at Scar’s house, “but they know how important it is and would be happy to help. They helped you before, didn’t they?”

Pearl was right, of course. Nobody on the server had any desire to hurt the egg. He trusted that. If there was anyone that he could trust, it was them.

But how would he get them all to essentially sign up for babysitting?

An idea struck him, and Grian scrambled to his feet. “Pearl, you’re brilliant. Thank you!”

She blinked, a little startled. “Always happy to help.”

•·················•·················•

Grian stood back, admiring his work. A near perfect duplicate of the egg that was currently sitting in the backpack slung around his shoulder, but at a much larger scale. It was built out of obsidian blocks and crying obsidian for the spots, and if Grian was pretty proud of how it looked.

If Grian knew anything, it was that his friends loved minigames. And Grian was not above gently exploiting that fact to get a little help--just like barge game from the last world, where he managed to get his friends to help mine out the stone from next to his mansion. Just slap the title of “game” on something and you could get a hermit to sign up for anything.

“Now . . . I just have to write the signs on the inside.”

The game Grian had come up with was officially called Tegg--he needed to stay on brand with his tag games in every world--but he’d mentally been calling it “The Babysitting Game” for a while now. Because that’s what it really was--each hermit who signed up would also sign up to watch the egg and keep it safe. He set to work outlining the rules.

RULE ONE: Protect the egg and keep it safe.

RULE TWO: Keep the egg incubated or it’ll die.

RULE THREE: Keep a close eye on the egg.

RULE FOUR: Call Grian if it starts to hatch.

Satisfied, he wrote out the rest of the instructions. Because it was a game, he wanted to make it fun for the hermits too, so he’d decided to make it like a scavenger hunt. People were allowed to take the egg, provided they adhered to the rules, and were encouraged to hide it and keep it safe. Otherwise, someone else who wanted to have it could get it. The safer the egg was, the less likely for someone else to find it. The winner was whoever had the egg the longest when it finally hatched. Grian didn’t know how long that would take, but he didn’t want to miss it either, hence rule four.

Yep, totally outsourcing his babysitting onto his friends.

Grian squinted at his wall of signs, before placing one final sign at the bottom: Grian will track the game and has final say on points and rules!

“That should do it,” he mumbled. He still wanted to keep an eye on the egg, to make sure that he knew who had it and how many people’s hands it had gone through. After all, he was the one ultimately responsible for it.

Grian pulled the egg out of the backpack and carefully placed it on the ground. He’d somehow made a habit of just speaking to it every now and then--he had no idea if the little dragon could hear anything in there, but he liked to think that it could. “Hey there,” he whispered, and stroked the top of the egg. “Some new people are going to start taking you pretty soon, but it’s okay. They’re going to give me some help and make sure you’re safe.”

He paused, taking in the little room he’d made and the wall of signs he’d written with meticulous instructions for the egg’s care. It may have been the first thing he’d built for this egg, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be his last. A baby dragon was a commitment and for the first time Grian really let himself think about what that meant, beyond just an egg that he had to carry around. Would he house it? Train it? Let it stay by his side? Would he love it?

I think I already do, he thought.

He thought of the hermits--their mischievousness, their pranks, their hard work, their friendship, and their goodness at heart. They were his family, now. What was one more addition?

“It’s okay,” he whispered to the egg. “I trust them all with my life, but more importantly, I trust them with yours.”

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #grian #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft fanfic #quara fanfic

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tofumedic · 3 years

Text

first ma(mmo)n

summary: not giving into his greed to go bother his favorite human was a tiring job, too tiring to keep up the act late after dealing with his brothers and rad.

(mainly a soft sfw sleepy mammon after a hard day blurb w/ a gn! mc)

"Uh-oh, it's already this late... Can I go to your room later?"

The day had started off young, it was bright and had a small promise of peace and ease carrying on with the aggressive chimes of the alarm that squealed from Mammon’s phone. Fridays were just like that, speaking relaxation into stressed eyebags after staying up too late to finish coping homework at last minute, that it would be okay and it was almost break time.

However, getting through it was still quite a stressor on its own. There was something punishing about being the second oldest in your family despite not having the respect the position requested, punishing about how no matter that your actions were something you could not stop as it was a temptation to your sin but were still looked down upon. Mammon easily knew about being the butt of not just one joke, but multiple lined up as if it was a theme park and the ride was “Berate Dearest and Oh So Great Mammon: He Takes It Like a Champ!”. It was a lifestyle and he would often joke that he at least made it look good, usually a line that he paired with pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose’s bridge to block off eye contact that would prove whether he believed his words.

It was his whole breakfast, his leave for class, even lunch but that was just for their RAD mode, there would also be the entirety of getting home and breathing the shared air.

And when you had come up to him, he held his breath as if forgetting how you treated him and expected the light cruelties to continue so when he instead got the apologetic smile and a hand reaching to give a gentle rub to his hair, he would have cried if not for his reluctance to show how much it affected him.

With his hand heavy against covering his twitching smile, "What’s up with you?” He thought about saying more, about how praise doesn’t affect him but his voice was already shaky and full with feeling. Which got even worse when you laughed at him and his almost wheeze when you continued only to lightly scratch at his scalp during a drag of your hand. It wasn’t the same kind of laughing at him though, it was sweet not antagonistic. He would see it as that, definitely, his brain already had a hard time keeping up with your interactions and now he had to completely restart from his blue error screen, a look he knew was visible in his dilated eyes as your lips curled all sweet and understanding.

Mammon couldn’t take it, his hands were starting to get all clammy and you were talking about something that happened during your trip with Lucifer after RAD but he was so focused on not crying in appreciation on the couch in the public of the entire house. He stood up almost haphazardly, legs unsteady and feeling like Beel’s pudding as he had to take a quick few steps in his stumble. Wiping his hands on his pants he grabbed your shirt by its sleeve, not wanting you to feel the small trembles he was experiencing bodywide, to pull you to follow towards your room.

He let go of you soon after to open your door in his rush to a safe private location before placing glasses on your table and gracefully, flopping onto your bed head buried into your scattered pillows with his arms by his sides and legs hanging off the edge, toeing off his shoes that carelessly flopped too only at the side of your bed on the ground instead. Mammon was patient enough to wait for you to close your door and change into something more comfortable to lay down in, however once you had even sat down next to him you were sucked up into his arms to fall next to him as he curled into you.

Like a dragon, protecting its nest of valuable gold Mammon had curled into your presence completely as if melting into your mold, his legs coming slightly up to intertwine with yours and arms wrapped around your middle and face pressed into where your collarbone met the side of your neck. It was safe, you were safe. Not nearly heaven but instead a haven, safety in your company purely holding your attention in the way your fingers met his back drawing soothing circles and arms cradling his shoulders.

He had no worries here, with you completely all his, a treasure that was only his in that moment.

In that moment he allowed himself to reach an understanding, the way he loved you so much it threatened to burn him from the inside to out. His eyes were closed but in a peaceful way, one that was gentle with eyelashes barely touching not with a pinch holding his face close. And he could see pink, it was bright and close to red but it was so pure and strong like the lingering scent on the street outside a perfume shop or the smell of bread as it cooks. It was a solidified version of his love, beating and heavy while feeling light as a feather just barely there instead of overwhelming and cruel in the extreme amount. It felt perfect, it was yours. He could feel every scrap of warmth from your previous trips with or gifts to him, every cup of noodles that had been shared or movies watched together, the same feeling of sinking into your pillows the first time to binge all of TSL and every fiber scratching and stimulating the sensors of his skin. The texture was imprinted into his skin when he had been there so long as if it had never left, that he was meant to come back and lay there again as if deciding they would home not just you but him as well on the tougher nights like these.

All of it was so welcoming, him reaching understanding of how much he craved past just greed. His fingers twitched at your sides, tapping into the new outfit you had put on just to lay with him. A sign, that was very quiet in its request.

And you would answer, bringing one hand from his back to intertwine with his own, completely melting into his mold as well.

#obey me #om mammon #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #obswd #obey me mammon imagines #mammon x mc #mammon imagine #i really went today i will love huh #tofus blurbs!#my writing

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