#and Honey is the big fluffy ragdoll | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

venusiangguk · 3 years

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pretty kitty | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / gamer!jk x brat!oc

>>genre: established relationship, smut, pwp

>>word count: 5.7k

>>warnings: hard dom jk, brattiest brat oc, mentions of pet play!!, wearing of cat ears during the deed!!, teasing, hand job, spit, finger sucking, name calling, degradation, tummy bulging, pet names, orgasm denial, begging, masturbation, light pussy slapping, jks a lil mean… so sexy of him, praise kink, flinching, light face slapping, humiliation, size kink, jk biggest cock in the whole world !!, forced orgasm, withheld creampie to forced creampie??, mentions of buzzfeed and 2d cat girls, jk lowkey a simp 🙄, mentions of choking

>>notes: this is more of oc just getting railed with cat ears on LMAO actual pet play stuff will be in part 2 which i will have out next week hopefully seeing as this part wasn’t even supposed to turn into a whole ass one shot -.- anyway!! this is ltgb!couple <3 but you dont have to read that to read this~~

>>summary: you’re jk’s baby, his toy, and now his pretty little pet.

It starts with a buzzfeed quiz.

‘What kind of cat are YOU?’

Your boyfriend is lying next to you, controller in hand and his pink little tongue poked out in concentration. He’s still kinda sweaty and flushed from your last round. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths, his honey blonde locks a little bit askew from you running your tiny hands through it while you rode him.

He senses your stare and looks at you for a second, doe-eyes scanning your face, your still bare body. He lingers on your neck before a big hand reaches out, fingertips rubbing on your skin a little.

“You good, chicky? You’re a little red… was I too rough?”

Your phone camera comes up and you angle it to look at where his hand just was. Indeed a bit red, and a little sore, but nothing you don’t love. You smile, and shake your head, wiggling a little closer. You’re laying on your side so your curled knees press against the outside of his leg.

He gives you a small smile and gets back to his game and you get back to your quizz, dutifully answering the questions, truthfully and honestly. After a few clicks and debated answers, you await your results, humming along to the game song that you’ve come to memorize. Surely you’ll be a Russian Blue, or another beautiful and regal breed.

The breath you were holding puffs out in a dejected sigh, ending on a pitiful whine. A sphynx? A bald and wrinkly scrotum looking feline?

Jeongguk notices your deflated state and cranes his neck a little to see what you’re doing. You turn the phone so he can see better and he snorts a little laugh out when he sees your results.

“It’s not funny, Kookie,” you grumble, going to the search bar and typing in ‘breeds of cats’ before clicking on images and pulling up a little picture chart. “Which would I be? For real,” you ask him, sitting up a little, so you both are side by side.

“I don’t know, I think sphynx is pretty accurate. Aren’t they like super high maintenance and have very specific care instructions?”

You graciously ignore the backhanded way that he is saying you are also very high maintenance and have very specific care instructions. “...Yes, but so do ragdolls… I mean just look at that coat, so fluffy.”

You zoom in on the little picture of the fluffy cat on the chart and Jeongguk humors you, laying his head on top of yours. “I could also see you being that one. It’s so pretty and it looks like it would be high maintenance too. And it also looks like it would demand attention 24/7 even while I am gaming. Just like you.” He pauses, fingers doing something intricate with the controller, before continuing a little absently. “But maybe you were dubbed a sphynx because you like being naked all the time.”

You tut your tongue, and look at your nude state. He had a point. But a ragdoll? It was quite pretty… fur fluffy and well-groomed, eyes blue and icy. You pause, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you saying you wish I had blue eyes?”

“No, of course not. I love looking into your eyes and not being able to see your pupils, chicken. Also, I don’t think cats have brown eyes?” he states, eyes never leaving his game.

You hum, contemplative as you turn your head to give his tattooed arm a tiny peck. Google tells you that cats in fact, do not have brown eyes. Your will to bicker dwindles as your brain purrs with thoughts of kittens.

You and Jeongguk have been together for like 7 months now… maybe it’s time for a fur baby? One that stays at his place, of course. You can’t risk the tiny demon using your stuff as a scratching toy.

With Instagram pulled up on your phone you go to the explore page and then to the ragdoll tag, cooing every time you see a particularly cute one. The kittens look like little clouds and the big ones look like small little princes and princesses. Your thumb is quickly scrolling down the feed when something a little different pops up and catches your eye, making you hastily backtrack.

On your slightly cracked screen, is a pair of fluffy ears and tail, as well as what looks like a choker. And while you aren’t 100% familiar with cat accessories this… realistic (you’ve been a slutty kitten for Halloween your fair share of times, the ears and tail incredibly cheap, nowhere near as luxurious as the ones you’re staring at now), you are familiar with pretty things and the set is certainly that.

You click on the page and begin scrolling, seeing a lot of other pretty sets, as well as some informational posts, answering many of the unspoken questions in your little brain.

What is this? Pet play.

What is pet play? A sub-category in the BDSM community.

Okay but like what is it actually? A type of role play of sorts.

Like a furry? No, not like a furry.

Why do people like it? For many different reasons. Sometimes people just like dressing up and sometimes people like being tied up, humiliated, and being owned.

You scowl at your phone a little, a small pout on your lips, the last bullet point making your brain buzz just a pinch. You liked those things… Images of Jeongguk plague your mind. Him making you feel like a tiny little toy that’s only useful when you’re making him feel good, him calling you his dumb little baby when you can’t think properly with his cock inside of you. Him filling you all the way up, till you’re stuffed full of his cum and just his.

“Do you like cat girls?” you peep, eyes still on your phone.

He hesitates. “2D ones or real ones?”

You give him side-eyes. “Both?”

“Only 2D ones, I don’t look at other girls… Haven’t seen one since we started dating, actually.”

You laugh, taking it upon yourself to settle in his lap facing him, giving him a big kiss. “I love you, but this isn’t a trap. I’m just curious.”

He gives you a weary look. “I don’t believe you.”

You hum, laughter still swimming in your eyes, turning and sitting between his legs, back to his chest. Going back to the account you were just on, you go to the tagged photos, finding just what you were looking for. Cute, sexy girls in their cute, sexy kitten gear.

You pull up one and nudge him a little to get his attention, but he turns his head to the side, avoiding the screen once he realizes what he’s being asked to look at. You fight with him some, phone waving around and him jerking his head in all different directions, crying between laughter asking how you can be so small, yet hold so much evil in your tiny body, why you insist on trapping him in sticky situations.

Finally, however, you get him to look with the promise of good intentions, admitting that you’re thinking about getting some ears for yourself maybe. This peaks his interest well enough.

His eyes are round as they take in the girl on the screen. She’s posed a bit lewdly to show off the tail as well as the collar and leash that’s falling between her breasts, and you see how he hesitates, looking at you, and you just laugh, shove the phone closer.

“I mean… the ears and tail are kinda sexy… and I like the leash I think. But only that, and they would look much better on you.”

You make a soft appreciative noise, going to the website linked in their bio while Jeongguk once again starts to play his game, eyes occasionally dropping down to you, but you keep your phone out of view.

~~~

It takes a few weeks for your package to arrive, everything from the shop being handcrafted and made to order.

But it finally gets to you when Jeongguk is out. He’s been gone most of the day, away at a streaming event with Jimin and Taehyung. Due back any second now. You haven’t mentioned the cat stuff since that night, and you think after the first few days, your boyfriend has probably forgotten about it. So with your fingers running over the soft fur, you quickly think up a way to surprise him.

You decide to go for simple and nonchalant, hoping to ease him into it. Even though he seemed interested in theory, in reality, seeing your girlfriend naked on the couch with something long and furry coming out of her ass might be a little shocking. So instead you just place the simple ears on your head, keeping on your lazy outfit; one of his big shirts and some thigh high stockings.

The ears are white, fuzzy and furry and soft to the touch. The insides are almost like a rougher version of baby pink suede, with tiny black hearts airbrushed into the material. Kind of reminds you of earrings a little.

Your tail is the same fur fabric, with a baby pink ribbon at the end to attach the complementary little plug the shop provided as a gift. The plug is a translucent, baby pink, glass one and it’s tiny. Thank god, because anal isn’t something you dabble in very often. It has a little ‘o’ shaped ring at the base, which is where you’ll tie the ribbon. You tuck those away in the drawer of his dresser that’s become yours the past few months, just as you hear his front door open.

You walk out and see a rather tired looking Jeongguk. He hums, pleased, into the kiss you greet him with and his hands come to your face, pet over your hair a little. He makes a small curious noise when he feels the headband.

He pulls away and finally looks you over, his eyebrows raising a tad when he sees your ears, and his eyes growing mischievous when sees the rest of you.

“You look cute,” he says casually, walking away from you. He taps your butt on his way to his kitchen. “Have you been here all day?”

You make an affirmative noise. “Was waiting for you.”

You tiptoe over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek on his back. You stay like that, attached to him as he wanders around the kitchen making something to eat. While his food is heating up he laughs softly, spinning around in your hold. He looks down at you, eyes narrowing playfully. One of his hands grips at your bum and the other grips at your jaw, squeezing so your lips push out in a guppy-like manner.

“A little needy today, hmm?” It sounds a little mean, like he’s making fun of you, but his gaze holds love and mirth.

“Yeah,” you nod, small hands grabbing at his shirt. You want it off. “Missed you.”

When you press yourself into him, boobs flush against his stomach, you hear him let out a satisfied little sigh, telling you he missed you too. His hands start to wander some more, slipping under his shirt to squeeze and pull at your cheek and you think that maybe he’ll be easy tonight, too exhausted to make you work for it after his long day. But he gingerly wiggles from your hold when the microwave beeps.

Until you grip his big hand in your small one, pulling him back to you with an indignant whine. He regards you with a quirked brow, a look of incredulity on his face even though he knows how you are and should be used to your antics by now.

Going with you until you’re hopping onto the kitchen table, he settles between your open legs giving you a wistful gaze that’s decorated with a knowing smile. His thumbs rub into the meat of your thighs until one comes to your kitten ears, rubbing the soft material between his fingers. He then pets at your head, cupping your cheek.

“You’re not being very good, are you?” he whispers, pinching your cheek a little. “Not being a very good pet? Hmm?”

It’s said patronizingly, but his tone, his choice of words- it makes your lashes flutter and a soft gasp sound from the back of your throat. When he presses the softest little kiss to your lips, you chase after him, locking your legs around his waist when he tries to get away again.

He laughs, shaking his head at you, cupping your face in his palms, jostling you like he’s trying to shake some sense into you. You just pout with your brows furrowed, impatient for his affection.

“What’s gotten into you? I was only gone for a couple hours and you’re acting like you haven’t seen me in days.”

You turn away from him with pink tinted cheeks and a scowl. “I just want it,” you say, tightening your legs around him, bringing you both closer, almost body to body.

“Want what?”

He already knows what, and is just being obnoxious. You can tell because he subconsciously pushes closer to you, and his tone has taken on that dreamy quality that it gets when he’s turned on. And when your hand drags down his body to touch him over his jeans you feel how he’s just a teensy bit hard in your tiny palm.

“Want you to fuck me,” you say quietly, squeezing him some, coaxing his cock into getting harder, little by little.

His hands pet at you some, and you push into the touch, and he pushes into yours. He’s always touchy with you, can’t ever keep his hands to himself most of the time, but you wonder if the circumstances are making him more conscious about it. If it’s deliberate when he rubs his hands over your arms, scratches at your head a little. You all but purr in his hold, getting a little more deliberate with your own touches. He’s not fully there yet, but the bulge in his jeans is obvious.

However, Jeongguk is in a mood, and is not giving in as easily as you thought he was going to.

“I will,” he says, squeezing at your waist. “But I’m hungry, haven’t eaten all day.”

You clamp your legs before he even starts to move away. Sounds like an excuse to you. “No, now,” you insist, bratty as always, hell bent on getting your way.

“I’m tired, chicken. I need fuel-”

Circling your arms around his neck, you kiss him so that he shuts up, slowly trailing your lips wherever you can, words sounding in between each peck, “That’s okay, we can go slow,” you try to sound cute, as if what you’re saying is a compromise and not a selfish way to get what you want, “haven’t done it like that in a while.”

You bring your lips back to his and kiss him like you mean it, like you’re trying to get him under your spell. He resists a little at first, but melts into your touch quickly enough, angling his head to kiss you deeper, to slip his tongue into your mouth. Pulling away, he sighs, placing chaste pecks on your cheeks, nose, everywhere.

“Get me there then,” he murmurs between kisses.

You let out a breathy giggle, giddy at getting your way, just like always. Bringing your hands from around his neck, you drop them to his pants. You undo the button and push at his tummy a bit so that he backs up enough for you to get his semi out.

He starts to plump up even more as soon as you get your hand around him, but Jeongguk stays quiet, gazing down as your small hand works over his growing length. After letting you pump him for a few seconds, he finally gives you his attention, a soft smile on his lips. He tucks a little bit of your hair behind your ear, eyes flicking to the kitty ones on your head once more. He leans in some, teases your with a kiss by rubbing his nose against yours, keeping his lips just out of reach.

“Both hands,” he whispers, smirking at the whimper you let out when he pulls away, withholding his kisses. He lets out a shaky breath when you comply, hands twisting under the crown on the upstroke. He’s just about fully hard when he says, “Spit on it.”

You work your jaw a little, gathering the spit before you drop your head and let it fall from your mouth down to his cock, stroking a bit quicker with the slick aid. You look at him, expectant of praise, having done what you were told, but he just drops his mouth open a little, a silent moan written on his features. You jut your bottom lip out, a complaint on the tip of your tongue.

“Shh,” he coos before you can, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you. The corners of his lips quirk up just a bit, like he thinks your need for praise is funny. A hand comes up to your face, his thumb wiping under your lip to get the little bit of drooly wetness that was left behind. He drags your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb, before putting it in your waiting mouth.

You latch your lips around it, licking and sucking for him, as his eyes grow a little glassy and unfocused, his hips starting to barely thrust into your fists. His lashes flutter, and his head tilts back, reveling in your touch. He lets out a soft, airy, ‘Yeah’ that goes straight to your pussy.

“You’re ready,” you decide for him, speech a little gurgled around his thumb.

He laughs, hazy and turned on, taking his thumb out of your mouth and slapping your face lightly with his open palm. “You’re such a brat.”

You shrug, checking behind you to make sure there is nothing that can break on the table. When it’s all clear, you lean back, squirming a little so you're right on the edge, giving Jeongguk easy access.

He hums when he sees you laid out for him, his big hands wasting no time as they slip under his shirt that you have on, pushing it up to your armpits, your big tits pillowing into plush circles on your chest. Groaning, he brings his hands to them, squeezing them and jiggling them, mesmerized at the way they bounce back into place.

His hands and eyes then move down the rest of your body and you hear a quiet laugh.

“No panties?” he asks, glancing at you before his fingers come down to your pussy, spreading your plump folds open so he can see your tiny clit, and sweet, pink center, wet and shiny. He doesn't touch you there anymore than that though, his hands rubbing over your body again, like he can’t get enough of you. Can’t get over how soft and supple you are in his hold, arching for him eagerly. A hand covered in rings, runs down the outside of your thigh, over the white nylon material of your stocking.

You playfully bring your foot to his chest, toes wiggling and rubbing against his nipple. He lets out a tiny, unexpected moan, before he glares at you, gripping your ankle and pulling your foot away. He pauses when he sees a little bit of pink on the ball of your foot.

“Are those toe-beans?”

You giggle. “Yeah.” Your toes wiggle again.

He grins laughing a little to himself, bringing a hand down to grip his cock, stroking as his eyes rake over your body. “Not a chicken anymore, are you?” he asks, finally bringing his tip to between your pussy lips. He moves it up and down rubbing against your clit, spreading the wetness between your thighs around your cunt. “My pretty kitty tonight?” he muses thoughtfully.

You nod your head, wrapping your legs around him again to pull him closer, urging him to slip inside. He gives in,and you mewl as his cock slowly disappears into your pussy, the stretch a pleasant burn. When he pulls out, only to push right back in a bit farther this time, he sees how wet you are by the shine that follows.

He does that, fucks you slow, with long, steady thrusts. Every time he’s flush against you, you can see that small bulge in your tummy where his fat cock is filling you up. He brushes his fingers over it for a second, like he’s in awe of the way your petite frame takes him, just like every time you get him inside of you. Whenever he gives a particularly hard thrust, your tits bounce and the table knocks against the wall a little.

“Faster,” you moan, one of your hands playing with your nipple, the other just touching at him, fingertips on his tensed stomach.

He shakes his head, groans as he slides back in again. “Feels good like this.”

You huff a little. It does feel good, could probably cum with just his slow thrusts if you were patient. But you’re not, and even though you know you said you both could go slow tonight, you’re greedy and needy, and you just want more.

Before you can whine at him, he grips the hand you have on his tummy, pushing it down so that it's at your pussy. “Play with yourself, wanna watch,” his voice is quiet, a little rough.

You do as he says, bringing your fingers down to your opening, gathering a bit of your slick around his cock before rubbing over your clit. You start with tiny, little circles, slow like his thrusts. It feels good enough to aid the little simmer in your belly, making your arousal spike, your pussy tightening as his hips keep pushing into you. Your fingers start to work a little faster, the softest, airy moans that pitch up at the end fall from your lips. The kind that Jeongguk says always drives him crazy.

“Don’t cum, not until I do,” he pants, getting worked up, your cunt and your noises making his cock ache inside of you.

With movements faltering just a hint, you roll your eyes internally. He’s cruel and evil- he knew you were right there, just about to fall over the edge. You lick your lips a little.

“K,” you say.

You’re going to cum anyway, you decide, fingers going right back to that pace that gets you reeling.

You try to keep your telltale orgasm signs at bay. The way that your legs start to close on their own, like the pleasure is too much for you. The way that your breaths start to come out short and staccato, chest rising and falling. The way your brows furrow with concentration as you work to get there. How you let out the most pitiful whine, wanting nothing more than to cum with him inside you.

You do a piss poor job apparently, that or he knows you too well, because Jeongguk’s grabbing your hand again, this time keeping it in his grip and away from your cunt.

With a soft, whiny sob, you say, “Kookie, please-”

“You’re so bad,” he spits, a tiny laugh of disbelief in his tone. He swats at your pussy, not too hard, but enough to make you cry out softly, and try to close your legs. To little avail, he’s still inside you, between your legs, filling you up. “You were just about to cum even though I literally just told you not to.”

You turn away from him, a little flushed, embarrassed at being caught before you could even actually finish. He grips your face, fingers digging into the chub of your cheeks.

“No, look at me,” he says, “You just get so dumb when you get my cock inside you, don’t you?” He uses the hand he has on your face and makes you nod, like you’re agreeing with him. You give him a dirty look and try to get your face free, but he just squeezes tighter, making your eyes water. “Can’t even follow simple instructions?” He shakes your head. “Yeah I know you can’t. So fucking bad. Such a bad little pet.” He draws his cock out until just the swollen tip is still nestled inside before slamming back in.

It almost takes your breath away, how overwhelming full you feel. Tears well in your eyes from how good it is. Him being upset with you also makes tears fill your eyes. Even more than the painful hold his fingers have on you. But the pleasured tears and the ashamed tears are also mixed with angry, fussy tears. “You’re being selfish,” you spout.

Jeongguk looks at you for a moment, his hips slowing and his grip on your face loosening a bit. Then he just laughs at you. Balls deep, laughing at you like you’re the most pitiful thing he has ever seen.

“Shut up,” he tells you, eyes still smiling, thrusts picking up again. “You’re selfish, I wasn’t even home for 30 minutes before you were demanding my cock- you didn’t even let me eat. Spent hours and hours thinking about it, didn’t you?” He lets go of your cheeks and you frown, humiliated because he’s right. You know he’s waiting for an answer so you just barely nod. He smiles, satisfied. “Yeah, so dumb, that’s the only thing you ever think about.”

He brings his hand to your face again and you flinch a little, cheeks sore from his hold just a bit ago. He coos, smoothing his hand over the fingerprints that he left. “I’m going to cum first, and then you. Right? You want to be good, don’t you?” His voice sounds like he’s trying to explain something to a child, as his hand drags down your body until his thumb sneaks in between your folds, rubbing at your clit.

You buckle, a high pitched keen falling from your lips as your legs spread wider, your hands coming up to your knees and pulling them back. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. Mind a little hazy again, just wanting to appease him so he keeps his hands on you, so he’s proud of you. “Wanna be good. For you.”

“My sweet girl,” he whispers, his hips working skillfully into yours.

The praise makes you high, and you just know that you look like one of those lewd doujinshi girls with the flushed cheeks and the heart eyes. Huge tits bouncing every time he fucks into you, faster now, while he continues to play with your clit.

He moves your legs to his shoulders, and braces himself on the table so that he can ram his cock into you, bends you a little so that he can see the way your face twists as he fucks you deeper. You glance at your belly, looking for that bump, and god there’s something so hot about being able to see just how big he is, how he stuffs you to the absolute brim, every time he shoves his fat cock into your little cunt.

It makes you whine and grip at his forearms, nails digging into his flesh and he moans, head rolling back, hips snapping forward even faster like he’s starting to lose control. The tip of his cock kisses places inside of you that make you fuzzy in the head and his girth stretches you out so well, can feel every ridge of him against the sensitive walls of your pussy.

“Wait-” you say, a little panic lacing your dainty whine. “Slow down, gonna cum-”

“Don’t __, hold it,” he warns, moving your legs back to his waist. He does slow his thrusts a little, but he’s mean. He brings his fingers back to your clit, rubbing like he wants you to cum, like he knows you’re going to, despite his warnings.

“Please,” you whimper, hands coming down to grip at his wrist, “you gotta stop or I’m gonna-” you turn your head, bury your face into your shoulder, hiding from him. Your body is so tense with your effort to listen and be good for him, straining against the high that's quickly cornering you.

“Look at me, baby,” he says, sounds breathy and so turned on, but also like he’s amused, “You’re gonna what?”

God, he sounds so smug.

Your eyes are watery, and your flushed head to toe as you try to keep the rush at bay, but when you look at him and see his condescending smirk that matches his condescending tone, it does you in. Your walls clench around his cock and your clit is so sensitive and his touch is so good, you have no chance really.

“Gonna cum-” you cry, legs shaking, as your pussy starts to contract around him. Little pulses as you cream all over his length, high pitched moans coloring the air. You bring your hands to your face, covering yourself like you don’t want him to see as you wraith against the table,

Jeongguk sighs, like this is exactly what he wanted, like forcing you to cum on his cock is the most gratifying thing in the universe. He’s trying to keep from cumming himself, the clench of your hot, soaking cunt almost too much for him, but he focuses on you. The guilty way that you’re hiding from him while simultaneously working your cunt over him makes something short circuit in his brain, so fucking in love.

His thrusts start slowing down gradually along with his fingers so that he doesn’t overstimulate you, wanting to only make you feel good.

He tsks, once you’ve come down, body still thrumming with pleasure tremors as you lay on the table, his cock still throbbing inside of your pussy. “So naughty, baby.”

You giggle into the hands still over your face, a bit delirious. “Yeah, so naughty.”

Jeongguk starts fucking into you again, “Don’t seem like you’re sorry for not listening?”

“You made me, it's your fault,” you tell him, finally looking at him again with hazy cum-drunk eyes. Pawing at the shirt he’s somehow evading losing this whole time, you try to get your breathing under control. He takes it off without complaint and you hum at the sight and feel, his body lean and pretty, a little sweaty and hot under your hands.

He still sounds sweet, gentle as he tells you, “Hush, gonna pull my cock out and fuck your mouth if you keep talking.”

You laugh a little again. He’s the one that keeps asking you questions. Your orgasm has made you playful and carefree, just a little toy for him to play with now that he’s taken care of you. “Mmm, cum in my mouth?”

Jeongguk groans, and you can tell he’s getting close, his hands coming up to grip and play with your tits to get him there, as his hips start to lose their rhythm. “No way, you’re so spoiled and not even fucking sorry. And you never fucking learn. Not cumming inside you at all.” ”

That knocks you out of your afterglow quickly, “Wait, no,” you whine.

Your eyes search for his gaze, a little needy and panicked, but his eyes are closed, and his brows are furrowed, and you’re steadily ignored. The more lost in you that he gets, the more you want his cum. His grunts and groans that turn to needy whines make you keen, and his hands that tremble a little as they rub over your curves bring chills to your body.

“Fuck,” he moans, “You’re so rotten but your pussy is so good, gonna make me cum.”

“Inside me?” you chirp, trying again.

But he just shakes his head, bottom lip getting pulled between his teeth like he’s concentrating and trying to tune you out. Truly just using you for his pleasure as his blonde hair sways a little with every pump of his cock.

“Please, I want it, Kookie,” you whine.

“Don’t care,” he grits out, bringing a hand to your tummy, as he looks down his body to where his cock disappears into your pussy. He backs up some, getting ready to pull out and finish on you, as he brings himself as close to the edge as he can with your cunt. “I- Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, eyes squeezing shut.

As his hand moves from your belly to his cock, you act quickly. You wrap your legs around his waist again before he’s able to fully pull out, his tip still snug inside. Then you lock them behind him and pull him forward.

Jeongguk stumbles a little, his cock sliding right back in, quick and all the way to the hilt. He was so close before that that one last stoke into your wet cunt is all he needed to finish, to spill inside of you. His mouth falls open with a choked gasp and his face scrunching in pleasure. You moan with him as you feel the first hot shot of white paint your pussy, and the way he still milks himself inside, despite your fiendish ways, makes new waves of arousal settle in your lower belly.

When Jeongguk drowsily blinks his eyes open he’s met with your sheepish, very pleased with yourself smile.

“Sorry?” you say, charm turned on heavy.

He shakes his head at you, a smile playing on his lips as he tries to bite it down. He settles over you more, resting on his forearms, his cock still blanketed by your pussy. He nips your cheek as his fingers play with the white ears on your head. “Why don’t you ever listen, kitty?” He presses that smile he was trying to hide into the apple.

You giggle, his hair tickling you some, “Isn’t there a saying that’s like ‘don’t ask for permission, ask for forgiveness- it’s easier’?”

“You did ask, I said no,” his laugh melds with yours. “Gonna make you behave next time, be a good pet for me.”

You hum, running a hand through his hair, choosing to ignore his threats. “Want me to zap your food again? I bet it’s cold by now.”

~~~~

HELLO IT IS I, the procrastinator!! but here it is!! back to your regularly scheduled smut, and not soul crushing angst!! i hope you liked it <3 also sorry for splitting it into parts i just havent posted in foreverrr... also the pet play aspect is going to be rather light even in the next part, so if you are unsure of it do not fear!! please do all the things if you enjoyed: reblog, like, comment, share, send an ask~~ as always, i love talking to you guys :*

omg also thanks for helping me hit another milestone as well as a mini one on top of that!! :o

also also, this is what oc was wearing!! soooo cute <3

okie bye ily muah!!

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( VELVETEEN RABBIT. )

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi? Answer: Jeon Jungkook.

pairing. french lop bunny!jjk x ragdoll cat f!reader.

genre + rating. hybrid!au set in college. super fluffy, a little angsty, with a dash of smut to balance it all out. explicit towards the end because i just can’t help myself. oops.

tags / warnings. honestly, this jungkook should just come with his own warning. but more realistically, mentions of kook using a scrunchie, kook being cute, kook railing his date after using the world’s worst puns... the usual.

wc. 4.4k

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif as always become, c’mon. i’m me. she’s her.

author note. this was written as part of @thebtswritersclub‘s a hybrid fest and is gloriously late (i’m so sorry @ditttiii). i’ve never written anything hybrid-related before so hopefully you enjoy. feedback goes a long way! xoxo

He orders the same thing every time he’s in. Iced Americano, no room for cream, and a single almond croissant. (Every once in a while, he switches it up for matcha but that’s exceedingly rare.) He always pays with a tap of his wrist - a sleek black AppleWatch with rubber band - and flashes his trademark slightly too-big smile. All the girls swoon. So do the guys. Everyone except for you.

He’s unnervingly handsome, with long dark ears that sometimes hang in front of his eyes. You’ve caught him with them pulled back Lola Bunny-style, knotted with a loose silk scrunchie that looks nearly as soft as his fur. His hair’s usually unkempt, tossed into a little sprout of a bun, overly long fringe falling all over his big round eyes. He wears butterfly clips sometimes, though that’s usually on days where he isn’t freshly sweaty and carrying his gym bag. They appear in his hair when it’s damp from a shower, the smell of papaya and honey clinging to every inch of him. You know, because you have a great nose - one that’s sensitive to every smell under the sun but especially his. (You try not to think about it much.)

It’s a Wednesday morning when you notice the change. It doesn’t register at first, acknowledgement coming in a curious sniff at the air. Weird.

“Thanks,” he says like clockwork, a well-oiled polite machine, deceptively slender hands receiving the exceedingly hot cup without a care in the world. He’s got his usual bag over his shoulder - overly big, black, almost tactical - and a pair of comfortable looking pants on that seem more like they belong on your beloved grandmother. Somehow, he rocks it (but he always does). “Have a nice day.”

Because of course he says that. Of course he steals the words right out of your mouth, turns them back on you as easy as he makes your heart rattle around in your chest like it’s a Friday night bingo ball.

He moves toward the bar - he only ever grabs three napkins, tucks them into the slot on the left side of his bag - but pauses halfway there. Rooted to the same spot as always, sleek ears following the imposing line of his shoulders.

One, two—

The thumping starts, so quiet it’s almost negligible. But you catch it, because you always do and because you’re the reason for it.

He turns then, levels you with a look from the corner of those pretty, pretty eyes and you can’t help but laugh, openly, unashamedly, with the back of your hand plastered to your mouth. A true ojou-sama.

His mouth quirks - does that funny thing where he sucks in his cheek then rolls it back out with his tongue - and you think he might finally say something. Call you out for writing his name wrong for the past five weeks, finding more and more creative ways to do so every time. Even occasionally using nicknames - silly things you’d come up with while on the walk home, or during lunch, or in bed.

“Good one,” he states, laugh lines threading over his face, prominent around his eyes. His nose wiggles with the sound - another of his traits that comes out to play often. Your favourite of them all, if you’re being honest.

“Anytime.”

You don’t realise it’s him until it’s too late, until you’re practically running into him, bouncing off the broad expanse of his back with a startled squeak. Lucky for you, you’re quick on your feet, catching yourself before your skull can become too well-acquainted with the red brick wall to your right.

“You okay?” Though he asks, you have a sneaking suspicion he knows you’re not and an even stronger suspicion that he’d been waiting for you, hovering past the entrance of the cafe with his big university hoodie on.

“Barely,” you manage around a laugh, straightening the backpack slung over your shoulders, packed to the brim with goodies you got to bring home at the end of the night and two of your textbooks.

“Should watch where you’re going.”

This is the most conversation you’ve had - ever. But it’s fun, easy, organic and natural. You wonder why that is.

“You should watch where you’re standing, actually.”

He’s so much bigger than you, imposingly tall (especially being part of the Leporidae family) and wide in the chest. Not bulky by any means, but big. Strong. Threaded with a strength you don’t normally see in hybrids of his kind. It probably has to do with how often you see him covered in sweat and panting, basketball hooked under his arm, soccer cleats tied to his bag.

When he speaks again, it’s full of mirth, squeezing his round eyes near shut. “Got a problem with me standing here?”

You nod, solemn as ever (which is really never, but that’s besides the point). “It’s dangerous to block entryways, didn’t you know?” You’re gesturing to the awning, the dark interior just past the window of the shop. “You’re loitering, Jungkook.”

“So you do know my name.” You can tell he’s not surprised - that he’s hamming it up for dramatics, softly pink lips rounded in a little ‘O’. He’s cute like this, you think. Playful in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I do?”

There’s that cheek thing again. It’s even more attractive up close, the shape of his jaw thrown into prominent relief when he sucks in a breath.

“You just said it.”

You nod, thoughtful, finger tapping upon your chin. “I guess I did.”

“Say it again,” he states, expression inscrutable, eyes bright. They’re so glossy even under the dimmed streetlights, impossibly big and undeniable. So easy to get lost in - if your attention weren’t caught by something else.

“What is that?”

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, caught the scent in passing sometime during the early hours. You’d been unable to place it then, too distracted by freshly ground coffee, a girl’s three too many spritzes of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, and baking banana loaves.

It’s heady, masculine. A strong musk that sinks into your nose and makes it twitch, ears rotating as if that’ll help pin the smell down.

“What’s what?” You hadn’t realised how close you’d become, your face five seconds from planting directly into his chest. (It’d probably be nice - you know how soft your school’s merchandise is.) “Are you okay?” He asks because you’re now, actually, planting your face right against the worn navy cotton. It’s terribly nice, silk upon your cheek.

You answer more to his clothes than to him, nosing into the fabric. “You smell different.”

You feel more than hear his laughter, the sound barreling past his teeth seconds later. The vibrations running along his spine jostle you from your position face first upon him but you don’t mind. It doesn’t send you far, dark eyes peering up into the face of the bunny hybrid. True to his kind, his nose is twitching, puffs of laughter expanding his cheeks when he meets your stare.

“No I don’t.”

“You do.” Tone firm, a finger lands upon the neatly embroidered N on his hoodie. The white stitching stands in stark contrast to your baby blue nails. “You smell… off.”

Whether Jungkook’s offended or not, you can’t tell. He’s got that same strange expression on his face - the one from this morning when he’d received his coffee. It’s made up of too many moving parts: the flutter of his lashes, the coil of his jaw, the minute tick of the corner of his mouth. You can’t read him for shit, somehow more confused now than in your 300-level art history class. (You’d taken it as one of your optional electives assuming it’d be an easy A. You were wrong.)

“Sorry you think so,” he hums, looking down at you. You’ve seemed to fully forget the meaning of personal space, edged up beside him as if you’re best friends and not just two ships passing in the night.

“It’s not bad.” Really, it isn’t. It’s strong and sensual, vegetal in a way, calming in another. But it isn’t unwelcome.

In fact, you think you might like this scent a little more - less sweet than what normally clings to his skin, natural honeycomb rather than processed sugar. It zings across your teeth, pieces broken up and scattered behind your molars. You can practically taste it. Him.

“Is that so?”

“Yep.”

You share a look - one that says more than all the words you’ve ever spoken, that threads together all the silly laughter, narrowed stares, (written) flirtations. It settles between the two of you, filling the spaces with something akin to cotton, light and airy and soft.

The desire to speak lingers, hidden just beyond the cotton candy dusting. Should you? Shouldn’t you? You still have no idea what he’s doing here, a street urchin making his rounds on the campus village.

He beats you to it. “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”

You don’t think you could want anything more. “Sure.”

Silence falls again but it’s comfortable, a caress rather than a crutch. The grounds are surprisingly quiet - wayward students on their way to the library or heading home from lectures. There are no picnic blankets spread across the grass, no gaggles of girls dressed in school colours. It feels like the first day of fall, change sitting heavy in the air.

“So—” You start.

He finishes, “do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That’s surprising. (Or is it? You’re not really sure.) You nearly trip over your own two feet in your haste to look at him, entire body swivelling on the spot because apparently you can’t just turn your head like a normal person. Something something all or nothing.

“What?”

“Do. You. Want. To—” He’s being insufferable for the hell of it. You can see it in his eyes, glossy things shining down at you like he’s got the entire fucking nightsky hung in them.

“Not if you keep that up,” you retort, though you both know you’re lying. You’ve been waiting - wishing, wanting - for this moment since the day you laid eyes on him. Since Yuri had elbowed you so hard in the ribs you’d thought you’d be bruised for days, since Jae had rambled on and on for his entire shift about the cute new bunny who’d come in that morning. Since that very first wrongly spelt name on his plastic cup and every visit since.

“Is that a challenge?”

“You won’t get it in.”

He scoffs, loud and drawn out, cheek rounding with disbelief at your disbelief. How can you possibly doubt him - school basketball star and all-around athletic freak of nature?

“What do I get if I do?” The ball rests in his palm, poised to be shot through the hoop, sunk without making contact with the rim. He’s confident - he’s done it a million times.

“A pat on the back?” As much as you tease him - loop mockery around nearly every syllable you speak, you’re endlessly supportive, already carrying the fruits of his labour under your arms. A Pikachu shoved haphazardly into the purse slung across your body, a Snorlax tucked under your arm at an awkward angle that crushes his poor head, a Sylveon tucked into the side pocket of his joggers. (The arcade was really into Pokemon, apparently.) “Me saying thank you?”

“Not good enough.” He leans in close - those big galaxy eyes practically swallowing you whole - and taps a single finger upon your nose. It makes your nostrils flare, an itch blooming under his touch. “Gotta sweeten the deal.”

You must look hilarious because Jungkook’s biting back a smile, smirking down at you. Then, all at once, without breaking eye contact, he’s extending his arm, flicking his wrist, and— swish!

In goes the ball, leaving him with a perfect score.

“I want you to stay the night.”

You think he’s joking. He must be joking. This is your third date.

But he’s staring at you like he’s completely serious, gaze expectant, lips pursed around something that reads like a smile but has your heart doing a strange little one-two step in your chest. It soars for a moment, high above the clouds like the string orchestra of a choral work - Beethoven’s Ninth in D minor.

“Are you propositioning me, Jeon Jungkook?” It’s the same reaction he always has when you say his name: a twitch of his ear, the corner of his bottom lip quirking and then resetting, eyes so sparkly it’s almost absurd.

“No. I’m just telling you what I want.”

“Huh.” You should say no. Guys like him - with charm that oozes out of every pore, whose offhanded smiles break more hearts than you ever have - are almost always bad news. Too sweet, too funny, simply too much for your feeble heart to take.

“Is that a yes?” He’s got you in his clutches - a viper rather than a hare, with a smile so dangerous you’re paralysed by just the sight of it. (Who needs venom?)

Your words catch in your throat, stick to one another like the deformed gummies at the bottom of the movie theatre bag. What comes out isn’t what you expect. “Okay.”

Damn you. Damn him. Damn how good he smells and the big dumb grin that spreads over his lips, sunshine in human form, undeniable and warm and cute enough to start a war over. (That’s probably what’s happening - a vicious battle between your head and your heart.)

Damn his stupid thumping foot that you can make out over the sound of the video games, the boisterous din. It’s so cute you can’t help yourself from smiling, mouth pulling and pursing around the delight that begs to be freed.

“Cool,” he says, and you almost think that’s not very cool. He’s so nonchalant, cavalier about it as if it means nothing. You’d be bothered if you felt like you didn’t know him so well - hadn’t learnt his idiosyncrasies over the last two months.

How he looks when he laughs really hard, his slightly too-big front teeth taking up all the real estate in his mouth. How he sounds when he’s tired (groggy, with a lisp that rarely sees the light of day otherwise) or when he’s told he’s wrong (pouty, with his bottom lip jutted out so cutely you want to scream). How he runs every morning, hits the gym every night, and eats double your protein because fitness, bro! How his cheat meal of choice is soy garlic fried chicken from the place off-campus and he hates tangy, tart desserts (your lemonade lip gloss not included, he insists). How he can’t sleep if he’s too hot - which he often is - and he spends way too long combing through his ears with a specialty brush he doesn’t let anyone touch. How he’s secretly raindrops and gummy bears and hand holding in the car, so much more than his high school superlative of most likely to grace the cover of GQ.

You wonder, because you know those things, does that make you special? Does it make you immune to the heartbreak that you swear you imagine whenever your mood drops (not often, but often enough)?

You hope so.

“Let’s go shoot guns?” He’s tearing you from your reverie, planting an open-mouthed kiss to your temple. It’s sloppy and not very refined, much less suave than what you’d expect from your school’s soccer captain (and basketball small forward and swim team stand-in). You suppose that’s why you like him so much - because he’s always surprising you, keeping you on your toes.

“Let’s.” You agree, letting your date drag you toward the Time Crisis machine. It’s blissfully unoccupied, allowing the two of you to slide into place. He takes the blue gun, you the red.

He squeezes your hip when you take up position, one eye squeezed shut as you look down the barrel of the plastic weapon. “Better not let me die.”

“Better not get shot,” you return.

He doesn’t listen - failing halfway through the helicopter scene, his shot missing and resulting in some sad miserable death in the form of Continue? blinking across the screen. Neither of you mind that much though. He occupies himself on his phone, free hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. You play better when he’s not shouting terrible call-outs, nearly crashing into you because he gets so into it.

(How he’s never got a concussion on the basketball/soccer/etc. field before, you’re not sure.)

By the time you’re done - a good five minutes later, you think - Jungkook’s growing restless, tugging at your belt loops enough that you stumble with every shot, nearly knocking yourself out when you have to steady yourself on the centre console.

“Kook!” Your glare is barely that, too affectionate to dissuade him from his childish antics.

He pulls you forward, traps you between his thick thighs, tattooed hands settling comfortably on your hips. “Let’s go home.”

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

Of course, he doesn’t deny that.

It’s not the first time you’ve been over. Not even your second or third. You’ve met up with him before his games, thrown his jersey overtop and helped him wrap his fingers before hitting the court. You’d even had to grab his cleats for him once, running across campus as he did drills in his socks as punishment.

This time feels different. You know why but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. It lodges somewhere in your throat, makes it hard to breathe when you kick off your shoes and tuck them neatly beside Jungkook’s.

“Are you hungry?” He’s already in the small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at you as you linger in the adjoining hallway, bag halfway over your head.

“I’m good.” You are, really. You’d eaten one donut too many at the arcade, indulged in a little too much disgusting nacho cheese goodness. You don’t really understand how your date’s still hungry, a cucumber crunching between his teeth when he turns back to you.

Standing there, vegetable devoured in quick, decisive bites, he looks every inch the French lop bunny he is.

You reach him in the same instant he finishes his midnight snack. Arms fold around you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, head dropping to rest comfortably upon yours. Like this, his ears tickle your cheek - velveteen fur lost to the silk of your hair. “Are you tired?”

Another no comes - spoken into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater - and he hums above you, whole frame rattling with the noise.

“No bed then?”

At least he’s transparent, you think.

“One track mind much?” You’re only teasing. A part of you looks forward to… whatever it is that sits over the horizon, lost past the creaky bedroom door and somewhere beneath his surprisingly soft sheets. (You’d asked about them once - he’d told you his mother liked to send him housewares to remind him of home. He was a real mama’s boy that way.)

The monster only laughs, snuggles into your hair like it’s home. “Can you blame me?”

You can’t do much of anything when he’s like this - so utterly adorable and enticing and good for your heart that it feels as if you’ve taken a straight dose of morphine.

“Let’s go to bed, Wookie.” Another nickname, recently coined after you’d spent an evening watching Star Wars for the first time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whack him on the way to his bedroom, smack a hand over the arm curled around your shoulders. He pretends like it hurts, howls in a way he he thinks resembles a wounded animal but really just sounds stupid. “Not a ma’am.”

“Sir?” He asks, just to make you laugh.

“If you don’t shut up—”

He pushes you through the door of his bedroom while giggling to himself, sound puffing out of his cheeks. “Don’t be mad, kitten.” The two of you drop to the bed, a tangle of limbs and silken fur and squeaking laughter. “You’re so purr-ty when you’re annoyed.”

He’s doing it again. Dropping those stupid cat puns that make your nose wrinkle, ink-tipped ears folding back against your head.

“I think I’m hiss-terical, don’t you?”

Face adamantly buried into his sheets, you don’t give him the time of day. You don’t even care that your mascara is probably rubbing off against the charcoal fabric, lipstick tint doing potentially irreversible damage. He knows how unfunny you find these jokes, how you’ve heard them your whole life and roll your eyes so hard your optic nerve might sever every time you face another.

What’s the point of sharing your pet peeves with him when all he does is lean into them? Use them against you like it’s the cool thing to do. Make you wonder what you’d seen in him when he was just another customer, another boy in Seoul National indigo and bedhead so dishevelled it begged to be managed.

(You’re not sure why you’re so irritated suddenly, caught in the clutches of a moodswing as you curl into your side and ignore his bad jokes.)

Stupid Jeon Jungkook. Annoying, silly, too-cool-for-his-own-good Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook who makes you second guess your choices, leaves you breathless and confused with just one dumb look. Who has convinced you into his bed and teases you mercilessly, snickering to himself as his foot bounces against the floorboards because he finds himself that funny.

“Baby?” The pet name comes, presses itself past your curtain of hair and invades your thoughts.

You say nothing, adamantly faced away.

He doesn’t like that, sneaking his hands around you and cradling you into his chest as if that’ll lighten the mood. (It does, a little bit, but you don’t tell him that.) “Don’t ignore me,” he mumbles, warmth breath tickling your ears, fingers dancing over the rungs of your ribs as if they’re ivory and not bone, playing a tune only he can hear.

“Stop with the shitty jokes,” you retort. You’re being difficult - can feel the vinegar turning your blood even as he tries to will it all away.

You feel the intake, the rise and fall of his broad chest. You can only imagine how hard he’s biting his tongue, careful to keep his next errant pun at bay. People don’t tell him no - only you. Maybe that’s why you do it, to remind him you’re not just like everyone else.

“Sorry.”

You don’t tell him to show you how sorry— but he does anyway.

You’re astounded by him, utterly entranced by the way he moves. How power runs the length of his frame, manoeuvres each of his limbs and turns your own to jelly.

He’s got you face down, ass up, hands cradling your hips like they’re his home and he can’t bear to let go. Every upward stroke feels like heaven - feels like a million lifetimes of pleasure you can barely wrap your thoughts around. He’s impossibly big, thick and long. The first thought you’d had when he’d stripped his black Calvin Kleins was pretty.

You realise now there’s nothing pretty about him. He’s filthy - the devil come to collect as he fucks you across his bed, nearly loses you to the pillows at the head with each snap of his hips. (What they said about rabbits was true, you think.)

“B-Bunny,” you sob, scratch over cotton that’s worn soft and smells exactly like your favourite sweater of his. The linens are defenseless, tangled up and wrinkled with each flex of your fingers, bunched up within your palms every time he buries himself like he’s looking for the answer to life, thinks he might find it within the fluttering walls of your pussy.

“Not my name.” When he sounds like this, he’s more predator than prey, a thousand volts of electricity shooting up your spine. He’s demanding and unrelenting. It makes your head spin.

“Wook—”

“Not.” Bunny teeth are just as painful as a feline’s, doing their job as they dig into the flushed skin over your back, marking his territory with two prominent indents right between your neck and shoulder. “A.” He ruts into you as if he’s got something to prove, snaps his hips to a beat you can’t keep up with. “Wookie.” Grips you so tight you might snap, red blooming beneath his hands.

You sob under him, drool against the pillows because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut. (You feel like Jungkook post-win, spewing nonsense as he prattles on about game winning plays with his teammates.)

“K-Kookie.” It’s what he wants to hear - hits him right in the chest, a bull’s eye to the thing that beats wildly and in tandem with your own.

His rhythm stutters. The bed is shaking and not because he’s practically breaking the weak wooden frame. No, his foot’s thumping, bouncing across the sheets even as he tries to regulate the roll of his hips, return it to the assured, teeth-numbingly good tempo it’d been at.

It doesn’t work. You love it anyway. Like it more, because it means he’s just as affected by you as you are him. Your heart sings, leaps out of your chest on hummingbird wings, and dances around your head. You’re a goddamn cartoon - Pepé Le Pew in ragdoll form - animated pink shapes circling like a crown.

You don’t care. You can’t. Not when he plasters himself to your back and asks you to say it again, begs you to tell him how good he is, tells you how he wants to make you his.

Who cares if it’s three dates in, if your meeting was cliched and silly and he’s the campus heartthrob?

You don’t - because he’s yours and when he flips you onto your back and you curl your fingers into his hair, it’s your name he stutters out. It’s you who has him coming apart beneath your hands, the feel of his ears like velvet, the little whines he huffs growing louder each time you tug at the base. It’s you who knows what he sounds like as he falls to pieces, throws himself against you as if gravity demands it. It’s you who holds him to sleep, whose skin acts as a canvas for the doodles he traces as he drifts off.

It’s you and it’s him and that’s enough.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

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imagine-your-party-hosts · 4 years

Text

Salty Tea

Word Count: 2,146

Notes: This was my old piece for the @domesticbnhazine! I previously just had it in a google doc and wanted it to have a proper place on my blog.

Summary: It had been two years since the beloved and infamous class had graduated and began their long-awaited journey of pro-heroism when a wedding invite arrived in the mail, a small cat stamp in the corner. He was shocked - he had assumed it had been a messing up of addresses, though sure enough it was to his apartment, and when he opened the envelope and saw the names ‘Izuku Midoriya’ and ‘Ochaco Uraraka’ in their glittering gold he swayed on his feet and had to catch himself on the counter.

There was a lot to be said about Hero Class 1-A.

A majority of it could not be brought up, however, without the mention of Aizawa Shouta. After all, how could this group of students manage to tame the beast that had previously expelled all his students? What demon had they sold their soul too exactly to survive all their years at U.A.

Maybe the question should be asked of who exactly Aizawa had offered his soul to.

It was quite obvious - he’d laid it bare to the students of 1-A time and time again. He had sacrificed himself plenty of times for the good of his students and - as much as it pained him to admit it - he’d do it all over again if need be.

“You’re pretty soft on these kids!” Yamada had attempted to whisper in his ear sometime not long after these students had come to him - however, whispering had never been Yamada’s strong suit, and several heads suddenly popped up from the ten-paged essay they were supposed to be writing.

“I am not. Eleven pages,” Aizawa had said in response, knocking Yamada away from his desk and telling him to go bother Nemuri instead, and the heads suddenly sank back down to their papers.

“You’ve been pretty soft on these kids,” Yamada had said once in the teacher’s lounge. It was relaxed around the school - final exams had just ended, and graduation was nearing faster than Aizawa or his classroom had been prepared for.

“I have not,” Aizawa responded, stirring honey into the peppermint tea he was brewing that his class had bought him, the spoon knocking against the cat mug that his class had also gifted him. The kittens that stared up to him were all hand-painted little creatures, different for each of his student: a long-haired green Scottish fold, its tail too fluffy for its own good, constantly getting tripped on, curled around its little paws; a hissing abyssinian with bright red eyes that watched his every move of the spoon; a siamese with a scar trailing across his left eye, his ear a little mangled though a bright blue bow tied around his neck all the same. Aizawa’s vision blurred suddenly and briefly and he had to glance away so his tea wouldn’t be salty.

It had been two years since the beloved and infamous class had graduated and began their long-awaited journey of pro-heroism when a wedding invite arrived in the mail, a small cat stamp in the corner. He was shocked - he had assumed it had been a messing up of addresses, though sure enough it was to his apartment, and when he opened the envelope and saw the names ‘Izuku Midoriya’ and ‘Ochaco Uraraka’ in their glittering gold he swayed on his feet and had to catch himself on the counter.

They’re just kids, Aizawa thought to himself, ripping the invitation further from its hold, and he started with a revelation.

They’re adults.

A meow sounded from Aizawa’s ankles, and he hesitated, glancing down to the wide-eyed burmese that was watching him, making sure he wasn’t going to topple over. Aizawa could remember the day he got this cat - remember the day Kirishima had seen it outside in the rain from the school window and had promptly bounded from his seat regardless of Aizawa trying to stop him. “It’s raining, she can’t stay outside!” Kirishima had said when he’d came back in, his uniform sopping wet and dripping a puddle on the classroom floor. Aizawa’s lecture was immediately forgotten, as all the students suddenly hopped up to go look at the kitten curled up in Kirishima’s arms.

“She looks dopey,” Bakugou said, rolling his eyes, stepping away from it, though the cat’s wide yellow eyes just followed his figure. She meowed, loud enough for the students to all let out a simultaneous squeal.

“We can’t leave her out in the cold!” Kirishima repeated, and that was how Aizawa had ended up with a wide-eyed cat in his bag on the way home that chewed on his pens.

Aizawa would give Bakugou that she did look dopey.

He glanced back to the invitation in his hands, which was heavy and cold and held a thousand of his thoughts, ranging from the first time he saw little Midoriya and little Uraraka, terrified in his class, to the day of their graduation, much taller and much wiser than Aizawa had ever expected their little babbling forms to be. There was a brief moment that he faltered in the gold hue of the letters on the paper, before he suddenly sighed much louder than needed and went to get a pen to put in his RSVP.

These kids would be the death of him, and he knew that, and he did not mind one bit.

And so, six months later, Aizawa found himself sat in the pews beside Yamada, in a pressed suit that he’d let Yamada pick the tie for. They were matching, both such a bright and obnoxious yellow that Aizawa was blinded every time he glanced down to straighten it, but he supposed it wasn’t the worst thing Yamada could have picked out. It could be decorated with brightly colored birds, or it could make noise, so Aizawa would just consider the canary colored tie a blessing for now.

Midoriya was already standing at the front, though Aizawa had thought that for once he shouldn’t have been so early. He was completely red, freckles hidden in the crimson, his scarred hands shaking just barely. Aizawa could see the Scottish fold, its too-long and too-fluffy tail getting caught in his paws and making him tumble down, when suddenly music started playing from and Yamada nudged Aizawa’s shoulder to glance behind him.

It started with Mina and Bakugou, and he was surprised that their arms were linked together without a large argument, regardless of Mina’s bright, teasing grin and nudging of Bakugou’s tensed shoulder. The hissing and snapping Abyssinian was for once silent, its red eyes only staring straight ahead, while the Sphynx beside him was only flicking her tail back and forth playfully.

Then there was Tsuyu and Kirishima, Kirishima grinning brightly and marching down the aisle, Tsuyu being dragged behind him. Neither had wanted to be painted as a cat on Aizawa’s mug - Tsuyu had wanted to be a frog, naturally, and while she’d settled on being a hopping Munchkin kitten Kirishima was not content until he was proud German Shepherd, chasing after Sero’s much too long tail. Next was Jiro and Kaminari, Kaminari a rigid Bengal that the Manx beside him had to roll her eyes at and calm down. Iida walked down the aisle with Hagakure as his side; Iida was a Siberian that sat tall and regal, and Hagakure had said she wanted to be a Persian with their smushed-in faces that she adored, only seen for the bright pink collar it wore with its jingling bell.

Lastly came Todoroki and Momo, both smiling comfortably, seemingly at something shared a moment before the doors open - perhaps about Bakugou’s for once uncomfortable stance. Aizawa thought of the Siamese, with its torn ear and bright blue bow that was too big for its little frame, and when he saw Momo with her long hair down he had a remembrance of the Russian blue on his mug, pristine and beautiful with its perfectly groomed coat. He almost forgot what he was truly here for, wondering if he’d just came to check up on his students, who, yes, thank you, thank you, were alive and well, when Yamada shoved him once more and his breath caught in his throat.

Uraraka suddenly stepped out into the aisle, her father by her side. Aizawa had not thought he’d ever seen her in a long dress, and he’d never truly expected it, though here she was, in a long white wedding gown that flared out at her hips. She was grinning, tears already in her eyes, and Aizawa could not remember when exactly he’d felt tears pricking at the back of his own eyes. Uraraka still had her red, round cheeks, and Aizawa was suddenly overcome with the idea that he didn’t want Yamada to see him cry here when he saw that Yamada was already bawling. Uraraka was a small little ragdoll on his mug, fur a little pink at its cheeks, sitting beside the Scottish fold and trying to help it walk a little further without tripping on its tail, and when Aizawa turned some in his seat he saw the little Scottish fold crying as well.

Aizawa did not bother to stop the tear that fell down his cheek for once.

Yamada suddenly clapped Aizawa much too forcefully on his shoulder, jostling several more tears down his cheeks that he did reach up to hurriedly brush away. “It’s amazing that they’ve come this far, y’know?” he said in-between choked sobs.

Aizawa paused for a moment, before he slowly nodded his head, turning to watch Uraraka once more as her father led her down the aisle.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, underneath his breath, “Amazing.”

Throughout the whole ceremony the two teachers continued their tears; Yamada, loud and choking, Aizawa silent and almost serene. Aizawa however had managed to calm his crying by the time of the reception, while Yamada was still a sniffling mess beside him.

“Stop crying. It’s going to make your soup salty,” Aizawa told him once they’d sat down at a table with several of the other teachers, Nemuri teasingly nudging his elbow.

“Maybe I like it that way,” Yamada responded wetly, nudging Nemuri back.

At one point throughout the ceremony Kirishima made his way over to the reminiscing teachers’ table, pulling up a chair beside Aizawa.

“How’s that kitten?” he asked, still with the bright, sharp-toothed grin that he’d had since the first day he’d stepped foot in class 1-A.

Bakugou was not far behind. “Still look as dopey?” he asked, still with the sharp and smart gleam to his eyes.

Had they really aged, or was this just another day in the classroom, just another day of pretend?

Uraraka came up behind Yamada in her beautiful long dress, glittery and sparkling and Aizawa knew this was in no way and every way the same class that had left his care all those years ago.

“Yeah, still dopey,” Aizawa responded, and Uraraka laughed, Yamada giving a start when he realized she was behind him, suddenly starting his sobbing full force again.

“Aizawa-sensei!” Midoriya began as he came up beside his wife, reaching to place a hand to her side as he neared. It was such a strange sight, Aizawa thought, that he wasn’t stammering, that his hands weren’t shaking.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore,” Aizawa started to say, waving that off, however Kirishima pounced, clapping a hand down on his shoulder.

“Really, Shoto-san-“

“Never mind,” Aizawa said in response, while Yamada laughed loudly beside him.

“Speaking of that. I guess your last name is Midoriya, hmm, Ochaco-chan?” he asked, still shamelessly with the tears trailing down his cheeks, turning in his chair to the newlyweds behind him.

“You’re right! It’ll be something to get used to,” she said, grinning as she glanced over to her husband, and Yamada dabbed at his eyes, sighing over-dramatically about young love.

“Aizawa-sensei!” came another voice, Hagakure bounding up to join the table. “We all need a picture together!”

“Is that necessary-“ Aizawa began to say, though there was a sudden uproar cheer for a photo, Yamada the loudest of them all.

“Okay, okay!” Aizawa agreed, effectively settling them all down as Kirishima gathered the rest of the wedding party, his students grinning so brightly at him that Aizawa was almost blinded.

“Come on!” he was tugged from his chair by Kaminari and Kirishima, while Nemuri giggled and Yamada offered to take the photo. Ochaco grinned as he joined them, wrapping an arm around him and Midoriya while on the other side of him Kirishima hooked an arm around his shoulders.

“Everyone! You too, Bakugou!” Kirishima hooted, and, though he rolled his eyes, he still joined in, until everyone had their arms wrapped around someone.

“Smile!” Yamada said, and, apparently not satisfied, he repeated it louder. “SMILE!”

Aizawa was suddenly overcome with a feeling he could not place, surrounded by his old students at an event he’d never fathomed taking place, in a bright yellow tie that did not fit him. He could not believe he’d watched these children grow from students to heroes, from best friends to husband and wife, from children to adults. He felt the same uncomfortable pricking behind his eyes that had been following him all day, and he could not stop the tears that unexpectedly came down his cheeks.

Yamada only grinned a bright grin himself and snapped the photo.

#bnha #my hero academia #domesticbnhazine #aizawa shouta #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #katsuki bakugou #zine #my writing #todoroki shouto #kirishima eijirou #yamada hizashi #kayama nemuri #Kaminari Denki

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mysticnfantastic · 5 years

Note

Can I request rfa+saeran adopting a pet together! Like what pet they’d pick and all that!

Yes!! This is a nice, cute request I’d love to do!

Jumin Han:

At first, Jumin is…hesitant

After all, you already have Elizabeth the Third, so why would you need another pet?

He’s worried about how Elizabeth will react to a new companion

With enough convincing, he’ll agree.

He’d insist on getting a cat, of course - a dog is too much of a fuss and too stupid for Jumin’s cat-loving tastes, and if you got a small hamster or a bird there’d be a risk of Elizabeth growing a tad too peckish…

Jumin is a great Cat Dad (™)

Turns out his worries were pointless; Elizabeth warmed up to the new cat quickly and they were fast friends.

One of Jumin’s favourite things to do; When you cuddle up to him in the bed in the early mornings as your cats sleep on the bed with you. It’s such a sweet, domestic moment and he loves it every single time it happens.

Only has his cats eat the finest gourmet food

Elizabeth is a Persian cat, so the next cat would likely be a different race - I feel like it would likely be another fluffy one, a Ragdoll cat, perhaps!

Yoosung:

He loves the idea of getting a pet together!

It’s like a baby but without the 18-21 years of financial burden!*

He’d prefer a dog, but he’s down to have a cat too. Or a hamster!

He’d like several types of pets, to be honest; he wants to be a vet after all! So he loves most pets

By the end, you’d end up with at least 3 dogs (the number of which was ever-growing), a hamster, maybe one or two cats.

They’d be all kinds of different species’ and races!

Also, most of your pets would likely be strays - Yoosung has a weakness for bringing lost or abandoned animals home and adopting them

Jaehee:

Dear Gods above please NO CATS

She’ll die if you suggest a cat she has had ENOUGH to do with cats because of Jumin and is basically sick of them

Jaehee would like a low-maintenance, but still a lovely pet, like a small bird or hamster.

Birds would be a wonderful addition to your home, so Jaehee thinks. She always craved a real ‘home’ of sorts, and the idea of domestic life with a bird or two singing in the morning to wake you both up is a beautiful thought.

It’d get a bit annoying to hear your birds chirping loudly every single morning, but it got you both into a routine which you both enjoyed.

Jaehee would love to hear your bird(s) singing and chirping, and she’d melt if she ever heard you singing along with your birds/teaching your birds some melodies.

Zen:

He is Vehemently against Cats

Like, he will not come anywhere NEAR a cat.

Dogs are the most likely option - he likes them because they’re strong and fierce and he lives for the idea of a strong dog being there to protect and guard you

A big dog is preferred, but a gentle soul. Intimidating to outsiders, but a really sweet doggie once you get to know the dog.

He’d absolutely enjoy taking the dog running in the mornings, afternoons and evenings; it’s the ideal workout! Especially if you go with him to take the dog out.

Though he’d get really annoyed and paranoid about the dog hairs in summer, and so you’d have 21233 lint rollers and you’d have to make sure your home is relatively clean since Zen hates the idea of anything ruining his appearance.

Secretly trains your dog so that if suspicious individuals try to ‘approach’ you on walks, the dog will snare and bark loudly. You have no idea why the dog is so protective of you, and Zen acts like he knows nothing, pretending to not be the reason for your dog’s protective tendencies.

He’s so in love with the concept of you being a ‘little family’ with your dog! Deep down he craves a semi-domestic life and this is just…perfect, for him.

Honestly, he’d be down for any animal.

He loves to make you happy, and if a pet will make you happy he doesn’t mind which you pick.

A dog, a cat, a bird….it’s all indifferent to him - as long as it brings you joy.

But V does have a preference for fluffy things, so he’d prefer the pet to be something ‘fluffy’ and ‘cuddly’.

You’d likely end up with a dog or a cat, and only 1-3 pets overall, nothing major but enough to make your home feel like a ‘proper’ home.

V would insist on you both making dog treats together from scratch because it’s such a sweet, lovely thing to do together as a couple.

Would make BEAUTIFUL art of you and your dogs! Be it photography or painting.

707/Seven/Saeyoung:

The moment you even hint that you want to get a pet, he’s already On It

Literally always wanted pets, but he never really got to have them or had enough time for them, but now he had you, perhaps he could finally have what he always wanted; a proper domestic life!

Will be totally for getting at least one pet on the exact same day you say you want one.

It’d be a dog first, like Zen, Luciel would like the idea of having a cute but fierce guarddog to protect your home and more importantly, you.

He’d like more pets later on though, and like Yoosung they’d probably end up being adopted strays. He has a tendency to find a lost little kitten or dog and immediately take it home to you.

How could you ever say no? Especially when both him AND the kitten in his arms are looking at you with such adorable, pleading eyes?

Somehow, you’ll end up with an Actual Goat.

One day Luciel ended up accidentally buying a live, baby goat at a farmyard sale.

Needless to say you were rather baffled when you came home to find a BABY GOAT sitting on your sofa as Luciel fed it Honey Buddha Chips.

Your motherly instinct took over and you shoo’d your boyfriend away to protect the poor baby from getting sick from such unhealthy, un-goatly food.

The perfect modern family….even if it is a bit of an odd one - that just makes it so much better, though!

Saeran:

Akin to Jumin, Saeran is hesitant to get a living, breathing thing to care for.

He’s not really sure how to care for himself - much less something which needs him to survive.

Would probably agree to a small pet like a hamster. Low-maintenance but cute and enhancing to your life.

Likes to watch your hamster just…run around his cage. He finds it peaceful and soothing.

Eventually, he’d be more open to getting another pet - a small dog.

He’d find it therapeutic to have a cute little dog to love him and get excited by his presence. It was…nice, and helped his confidence that he is lovable.

*I’m sorry I had to - it was so fun to write I couldn’t rephrase it lmao ((Please leave comments and reblog if you’re able - it encourages me to write more!

#MM #mystic #mysticme #mysme #mystic messenger #mystic messenger imagines #x reader #mm x reader #mysme x reader #x reader imagines #headacnons #headcanons #mysme headcanon

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headoverhiddles · 5 years

Text

Klowning Around (or The Big Klown Krossover) - Multiple Clowns x Reader

Synopsis: Your friend is visiting. You take her to the seaside fair at Santa Monica Pier, where you introduce her to Pennywise, your boyfriend. She meets Art, another interesting, if not a little dangerous, clown. On top of it, the huge orange big top that popped up tonight hadn’t always been there... had it?

@chari-koopa I DID IT

Notes: Basically an It/Terrifier/Killer Klowns crossover. With clownfucker undertones cause ummm dat me. ;) Warning-- slight gore in one of the gifs below the cut. PS. THIS IS VERY WEIRD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK LOL

A white gloved hand slips into yours. Pennywise had been itching to go to the seaside fair for days, ever since they had opened it up for the summer season. It had been fairly good timing too, since your friend from out of the country was coming to visit.

“They’ll have popcorn, cotton candy, hot dogs, peanuts...” Penny’s busy listing off, and you laugh, digging through the closet.

“Of course they will, it’s a fair. Here, you’ll need to wear this—they’ll think you work there.” You toss him a black hoodie, and he glares at it like you’ve just tossed him the plague.

“What’s wrong with looking like I work there?” he asks, “I probably look more like a clown than any of those fakes do!”

“That’s because you are a clown,” you point out, putting on your own hoodie, “Or... kind of.”

“Eldritch demon spider, but I identify as a clown,” he shrugs. You sigh, looking at your boyfriend. He’s got orange puffs of hair sticking out all over his head, a frilly white clown suit with red pom poms... oh, well. He was probably right. As long as he didn’t do anything too crazy, the night might run smoothly.

“Fine,” you kiss him on the nose, “Wear what you want.”

“Agreed! Now get back here and give Pennywise a real kiss!”

“Only if you promise me something,” you smirk, sauntering over. He licks his red lips.

“What?”

“No. Eating.”

“B—”

“And you know what I mean. You can have popcorn. But I don’t want to hear about any murders while my friend’s in town.” He pouts.

“Fine. I’ll restrain myself. For you.”

---

“Hey!” you grin, your friend running up to you. You both hug, and she checks out Pennywise.

“Hey. Penny, right? Nice costume!” Penny looks extremely proud of himself, and you all head over to get in line for the fun house. As you’re waiting, you find yourself staring at a large orange big top, with red stripes.

“Was that always there?” you ask.

“The big top?” Pennywise replies, “They might have set it up today.”

You shrug, and all of you enter the Clownzilla Funhouse. “These always freak me out,” your friend says, “I look gross in all these weird mirrors.”

“That’s the point. It’s supposed to be creepy,” you say, glancing at your ass that has spread three times too big in the funhouse glass. “Look at that shit.”

“I’d have fun sinking my teeth into that,” Penny growls into your ear, practically salivating at the sight of your funhouse-stretched ass, and you swat him.

“Save it for later.” He gives your ass a squeeze before you all head into the next room. The hallways twist in colourful patterns, the neon assaulting your eyes. The intended effect definitely reaches you—you’re overwhelmed by the circus organs and splatters of red, white and black paint all over the place.

Just then, you see something out of the corner of your eye. Turning, you catch a glimpse of another clown, crouching down. He’s got a black and white suit on, a long chin, and he’s holding something. Fear starts to rise inside of you, as the clown glares at you, dark eyes almost staring into your soul.

“You see him?” you whisper, and your friend turns as well. You swallow. “D-do you work here?”

The clown just shakes his head slowly.

Penny growls, getting a little territorial, but the other clown just stands up, kicking away whatever was on the floor behind him. His gloves are stained red, which worries you even more... but he suddenly breaks out into a large smile, walking toward you guys.

“Hi,” your friend says, and the clown takes out a flower, handing it to her. She blushes, and he holds up a finger excitedly. “You’re a mime?” she asks. He nods. He then drags his bloody finger up the mirror, writing his name. “Art?” He nods again. “Nice to meet you, Art.” He laughs silently, and shakes all of your hands, clapping.

He draws a little heart in blood on the mirror. You look at Penny in confusion, but Art seems to be taking a liking to your friend. She watches, enthralled by the charming clown, and Art points to her and him, then the heart. She giggles, and shrugs. “Well. I don’t see anyone else around willing to hold my hand tonight.” She lets him take it, and they walk beside you.

“I told you you’d understand the clown love one day,” you grin, and she rolls her eyes.

“He’s not Mr. Clown. He’s just Mr. Clown Now.” You both laugh at the corny joke, as you finally make it out of the maze.

“Say, Art,” you bring up to your new tall companion, “Not judging or anything—was that a body back there you were hiding?” Art pretends to scratch his head, thinking, then gives an exaggerated shrug. You snort. “You and my boyfriend’ll get along just fine.”

“As long as you don’t give any of those flowers to this one,” Penny clings to you, lifting you like a ragdoll, “You’re not half bad.”

You all get in line for the Snack Shack on the beach to grab some food before heading up on the Ferris Wheel. The night is a perfect one—starry sky, the waves on the beach gently lapping against the shore as the sounds of happy screams, clown laughter, and the mechanical whir of rides roar around you. The sickly sweet aroma of cotton candy fills your nose, and you lick your lips.

Your friend and Art share some popcorn, and you and Penny each get some cotton candy. You get pink, and he gets blue. Once you start eating though, you furrow your brows. “This... doesn’t taste right.”

“What do you mean?” your friend asks, and Art gives you a puzzled look too.

“It’s just...” you take another bite of the fluffy candy floss, “It’s good. But it’s strangely sweet. Overly sweet. Also sorta tastes like...” You make a face, and hand it over to Pennywise. “Here, you try this.”

He takes a bite, and instantly starts to salivate. His yellow eyes drift apart, and he becomes primal, drooling and eating the entire stick of cotton candy whole in one large bite.

“Oookay,” your friend says, and you start to worry. If Penny enjoyed human food that much, it had to be just that. Human food. Human food.

“Let me check something,” you say softly, and walk back over to the snack shack. Taking a few steps, you walk behind the shack, where they’re getting their floss from a large, pink supply hanging on a hook. You start to turn it around, only to be distracted by the sound of a tricycle coming down the boardwalk. There’s no one really around this side of the boardwalk right now, and just below it is the biker area, where they hang out.

“Where are you going?” your friend asks, and you head up the boardwalk, just in time to see something approach the bikers. From what you can see, it’s a small, green-haired clown. He gets off his little trike, and proudly shows it off to the gang.

“Mean bike you got there, Jojo!” one guy taunts, and the leader of the group walks over.

“Can I take a ride, pal?” Apprehensive and more than a little protective of his tiny bike, the little clown shakes his head.

“Mmm-mmm!”

“Awww... can I beep the horn?”

The clown looks delighted someone would ask. “Mmm-hmm!”

“Ohh! Thank you!” It’s obvious that the leader of the gang is mocking him. The short clown watches helplessly as the man picks up his clown bike, but before he can drop and smash it, a voice rings out.

“Hey! Leave him alone!”

Everyone turns to see you standing there, arms crossed, and the little clown’s eyes widen. You nod to him, prepared to stand up to the leader approaching you angrily.

“It’s your unlucky night, honey,” the guy says, but suddenly stops. He looks behind you, and almost starts to cry.

“RUN!” someone behind him shouts, and all of the bikers break off, riding off on their motorcycles. You don’t even have to turn around to know Pennywise is standing behind you with some horrifying, nightmarish trick he’s done to his face and/or body to scare them off.

The little clown runs over to you, parking his bike against the wall, and hugs you. You hug him back, and he starts explaining things fast in a language you can’t understand.

“Penny? A little help?”

Pennywise listens, then hums. “This one's not from here. He’s from a different galaxy, just like me, but a different planet-- one I'm not familiar with. He came here in... that orange big top, with his family and friends. They came to eat a few people... but in general, they just want to have a good time.”

“Oh,” you nod, “Killer clowns from outer space. Fun.” But you can’t deny that the little guy’s growing on you... and you had felt bad for him, getting picked on like that. You decide you can't leave him alone. “Wanna hang out with us, little dude?”

He looks back over his shoulder, and speaks again in his language. Pennywise interprets. “He says his mum and dad might get worried... what’s your name, little one?” The little clown places a hand over his heart, and Penny grins. “Little one's name is Shorty... mother's name is Fatso, father's name is Jumbo. He... also came with his uncle, Slim, and his two brothers, Rudy and Spiky. He also says—" Shorty starts jabbering fast, and Penny growls in his face. "Slow down, or I’ll eat you!"

"Hey," you hit your boyfriend, "Be nice. He's scared."

"He's scared?" your friend asks. Shorty breaks out boxing gloves, and bounces around. Penny just roars, frightening the little clown and sending him waddling back over to you.

"Look you two, behave. What's he saying?"

"He’s... warning us that his brother Spiky is a troublemaker. Rudy is the nice brother.”

“And what about you?” you laugh, “Are you a troublemaker, or are you nice?”

Shorty makes a ‘both’ gesture, and smiling, you and your boyfriend take him back to where Art and your friend are—

“You’re making out with that?!” you blurt, crossing your arms. Your friend looks up, and Art grins, sticking his tongue out. Your friend blushes.

“He’s charming. What can I say?”

“Look who we found,” you say, and introduce Shorty, explaining what he is and where he’s from.

“Oh. Uh... think we just found his family.”

You all turn nervously, to find a family of mismatched, odd looking clowns making their way through the carousel. They’re huge, much bigger than Shorty. The biggest one’s got green hair like your little clown friend, assumedly Jumbo, the one holding that one’s hand has red hair and is wearing a pink and blue dress who seems to be Fatso, there’s one with spiky pink hair who you take to be Spiky, and one with floppy ears and red hair who answers to Rudy.

“Lovely family,” you try to compliment, and the clowns all close in on your group. You’re all backed against the wall beside the carousel, even Penny’s attempts to scare them off falling short, their ominous laughter echoing around you. Stopping them before they can kill you, Shorty goes bananas trying to excitedly explain you had helped him.

Fatso stops to listen, and pokes and prods Jumbo until he reluctantly listens too. By now, Spiky’s got your friend in a choke hold, Art trying (to no avail) to saw the bigger clown’s head off.

Rudy knocks Spiky on the head, and Spiky finally turns. Jumbo wags a finger at them all, explaining in their language that we saved Shorty. They all turn back, and wrap in for a big hug.

It’s the weirdest fucking hug you’ve ever felt, but dammit, it's cute.

“Now that introductions are over,” you clear your throat, “Wanna hit some rides?”

“Hell yeah,” your friend says, eating the last of the popcorn and taking your arm.

“That whole almost being murdered thing was... what word do you use?” Penny hisses, “Awkward.”

“Very,” you groan, "You were no help."

"What was I supposed to do against... those?!" Rudy trips over his feet behind you. Shorty laughs his ass off at his brother, and Fatso helps her son up. Just then, a tall, hot pink haired clown comes bounding over, carrying the cotton candy supply you'd seen from earlier. He takes a big bite out of it, and you see the blood all over his teeth-- your face twists up in disgust. Whatever's inside that cotton candy, you were eating it (or them) earlier.

"Slim! Slim!" Rudy introduces you, and the pink haired clown waves at you all, making a little dinosaur out of his gloves using shadows. Shorty claps, and you raise your eyebrows.

"What a family."

Both you girls and your fabulous clown entourage (clowntourage?) approach the ‘West Coaster’ roller coaster, lit up with blinking lights and funny neon faces.

“Sir...” one tiny teenage employee gulps, looking up at Jumbo, “I-I’m gonna need you to sit in the test seat before you ride.” His fellow employee’s knees are shaking together.

Jumbo looks at the one kid, over to the seat, then back to the kid, and picks up the test seat, tossing it up into the air and blasting his popcorn ray gun at it. The others then produce cream pies from out of nowhere, and pelt them at the poor guy, reducing him to a pool at your feet. The other teenager simply nods, and lets all of you in.

You and Pennywise sit in the front, Shorty squeezed between you two so he can see. Right behind you sits your friend and Art, still holding hands and still necking. He keeps giving her little gifts, and honks his horn whenever he kisses her. It’s strange, but what about dating a clown wasn’t strange, really? Behind them sit Rudy and Spiky, each punching each other and tugging at each others’ hair, Slim sitting in the middle to moderate (and doing a terrible job of it, laughing every time Spiky gets a good hit in). At the very back, Jumbo and Fatso hold hands.

The roller coaster starts to move, and Art reaches a hand out to take a group selfie as you all climb the hill. At the very top, Shorty covers his eyes, and the clowns behind you go wild.

Pennywise holds you tight, and everything is a blur, the circus lights around you spinning and blinking. It’s an amazing feeling—it’s like you’re high. This is the most fun you’d had in a while.

When the roller coaster comes to a stop, the clowns behind you are all chanting something—it sounds like again, again, again. They must not have stuff like this on their planet. You all stay on, having basically taken over the ride now, and just as you’re going down the first drop again, you hear a scream come from behind you that sounds far too distressed.

At the bottom, you feel like you’re in a haze. Glittering pink fog tinges your field of view. You and Pennywise turn around, to see Art holding his saw in one hand, and your friend’s head in the other. You sigh, and Art shrugs, miming crying. Pennywise looks at you.

“I knew something was off with that one.”

The Killer Klowns all seem to find this hilarious though, and play volleyball with the head as the roller coaster just keeps going around, and around. You scream, but Pennywise just snaps his fingers. You frown, as a pink mist around you dissipates.

“These Klowns give off pheromones that make you hallucinate,” Penny realizes, “It’s a characteristic of their species.”

“Fun,” you grimace, reaching back to make sure your friend’s head was securely on her shoulders. She looks at you weird, but you snatch Art’s saw away, just for safe measures.

“Let’s just try to enjoy tonight,” you sigh, and Penny’s white gloved hand slips into yours.

“A few more rides. Then popcorn. Pop, pop, pop,” he whispers in your ear.

“Best night at the fair ever,” you grin, and you two kiss, some of his red lipstick rubbing off onto you. Shorty wiggles his ears between you, putting his hands up, and Art honks his horn.

#gore tw #for the gifs #clowns #killer klowns from outer space #shorty #pennywise #pennywise the clown #pennywise the dancing clown #it #it movie #art #art the clown #terrifier #all hallows eve #pennywise x reader #art the clown x reader #clourophelia

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perksofbeingawaifu · 6 years

Note

I saw you reblog some post about sending you a fic title and you have to make up the story. "The Chicken Nugget Surprise"

…

Why.

…SIGH FINE. I WILL WRITE IT. Here have some domestic fluffy nonsense. I AM TIRED AND THIS IS ALL YOU'RE GETTING.

“Levi,” Eren started.

“No.”

“You’re not even looking.”

“I don’t even have to look, I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I—“ Eren couldn’t make it through the sentence before breaking out into laughter. “What am I doing?”

“You took the chicken nugget box and you cut a hole in it. I get it. It’s unsanitary.”

“Just open the box, Levi,” Eren said, nudging it towards Levi.

Levi adjusted his glasses and kept his eyes focused on his laptop.

“Leviii,” Eren cajoled.

“Eren, I don’t want to see your dick in a box.”

Eren had both hands on the box of chicken nuggets and jerked his hips forward, tapping Levi’s shoulder. Levi sighed and looked down at it.

“If I open the box, can I go back to work?” Levi asked, hooking his head to look up at Eren.

“Baby—“

“Gross—“

“You can do whatever you want.”

“Fine. Wow, look it’s a dick in a box—“ Levi said before he had it fully open and then paused.

Inside were the words, “Will you marry me?” written in sharpie on the lid and a ring box.

Levi hesitantly pulled out the ring box. He tapped one impatient finger on it before setting it down.

“No. Do over.”

“What?” Eren asked.

“You don’t get to propose to me like this? Do it again!”

“You didn’t even open the box!”

Levi opened the box and pulled out the ring that was clearly from a gumball machine and threw it at him.

“Levi—“

“I have so much work to do, oh my god, what?”

“Is it not your size?”

“You’re such an asshat.”

Eren was still tittering as he picked up the fake ring from the ground.

“Next time it’ll be a real one!” he shouted from the bathroom before unzipping his fly.

“I’ll believe it when I see it!” Levi shouted back, crooking one finger under the chin of their lazy ragdoll cat.

***

“No,” Levi said a week later when Eren tied yet another fake ring onto his teabag. “How could you even think this is appropriate? No. Try again.”

“You didn’t even let me say it!” Eren protested. “Levi, will you—“

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Will you keep letting me teabag you for the rest of our li—“

Levi threw his pillow at him.

Eren pulled it off and rolled over next to him. “You know why I keep doing this, don’t you?”

“I have an idea,” Levi said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Do you now?” Eren teased, kissing him behind the ear.

“To torture me,” Levi guessed.

“It’s because you said you don’t like surprises. And you don’t like surprise proposals. So when I do propose, for real, you will know. And it won’t be a surprise. It won’t be a shock. It’ll be soft and sweet. Like coming home. Like a comfy pair of shoes.”

“When you propose it’ll be athletes’ foot, got it,” Levi said, but his ears were burning.

“I love you. I want to be with you. And I want you to get used to the idea of ‘Levi Ackerman will you marry me?’ Because I do and I want to marry you, but only when you’re ready.”

“My tea is getting cold,” Levi said, shoving his face away.

***

“Leviiii,” Eren whispered hot against his neck.

“Jesus fucking Christ what time is it?” Levi asked, rolling over and checking his phone.

“It’s now officially my birthday,” Eren said in what he must have thought was a seductive voice.

“It is three in the fucking morning.”

“Remember how last year for my birthday you were broke?”

“I’m still broke. Why do you think I’m putting in all this overtime?”

“And you gave me that coupon for a free blowie?”

Levi groaned.

“Redeemable at any time Levi!”

Levi rubbed his eyes.

“It’s my birthday,” Eren tried, biting his lip in the dim light.

“Fine. Fine. I’m up already so, fine.”

His lips met Eren’s and their legs tangled. They slipped into that rhythm that frequent lovers do. Levi’s arms wrapped around Eren’s waist and then he dipped his fingers down into Eren’s pajamas, tangling in the dark hairs there. When he reached for Eren’s cock, however, he found…

“No!” Levi said, getting out of bed and walking towards the bathroom.

“Levi! You didn’t—“ Eren broke out into laughter again as he chased after him. “You didn’t even see it!”

“Fuck off!” Levi said, shutting the bathroom door to piss.

“What if it’s a real one this time, Levi?” Eren asked, pressing his cheek against the bathroom door.

“Then you would owe me a new proposal!”

“It’s a—“

“Don’t you dare—“

“It’s a cock ring—“

“Stop it.”

“Levi—“

Levi ripped open the door. “C’mon take off your pants.”

Eren paused.

“Birthday blowie, let’s go. Get naked. I need to be at work in…wow. Four hours.”

When Eren stood there, still with a gumball ring tied around his cock, Levi grew impatient and pulled his pants down. Soon all of Eren’s laughter subsided and soft groans took its place.

“Where do you keep finding all of these stupid rings anyway?” Levi asked, tossing it in the trash.

“A master never reveals his…” Eren trailed off.

Levi waited for the punchline…but Eren was asleep.

***

“Oh my,” Eren said, rushing ahead of Levi. “A fancy dinner at my favorite place? How interesting.”

“Okay, settle down.”

“And on the rooftop usually reserved for special occasions—how intriguing.”

“This is why you’re the worst to shop for. You always know what I’m getting you ahead of time. I have no hiding places left in the apartment because you keep finding your presents and ripping them open. Hi, Ackerman, party of two—“

“Is it? Is it a party…of two?” Eren asked the hostess, who looked at Levi for help.

“Don’t snoop around on my Facebook if you don’t want to be spoiled!”

“You’re never on Facebook, then suddenly a month ago, you “Liked” a picture of Sasha’s breakfast. Highly suspicious. So you were either cheating on me with the sexy personal trainer next door—“

“Yes, I was cheating on you,” Levi deadpanned.

“Or, you were organizing me a—“

“SURPRISE!” everyone called out.

Eren’s smug face made Levi roll his eyes.

“A birthday party? For me?” Eren said, putting his hands to his face in pretend shock.

“Oh,” said Mikasa in disappointment.

“He knows, you guys,” Armin called to the group. “He figured it out.”

“I tried,” Levi said with a shrug.

“You can’t surprise me, I’m the master of surprises!” Eren said, waving his hands in front of his face.

“You’re right,” Levi agreed.

“Wait, you invited my parents?” Eren said as Carla ran towards him to plant a kiss on his cheek. “And my stepbrother?”

“I just went through your friends on Facebook,” Levi admitted.

“My big boy is twenty-eight!” Carla cooed, kissing his cheek. “I’m so proud of you sweetie!”

“Uhhh, hi mom,” Eren said.

Then he realized Levi’s mother was there too. And Erwin. And Hanji. And Isabel and Farlan.

“Wait,” Eren said, about a second too late.

He saw his mother had tears of joy in her eyes and turned around.

Levi got down on one knee and held out a ring.

“…Is it real?” Eren asked after several long seconds of him opening and closing his mouth like a fish on land.

“Honey, what kind of a question is that?” his mother chastised him.

Eren tapped the box like he was expecting it to bite him. Levi opened it and he flinched.

“Oh my god, it is real,” Eren said, absolutely dumbfounded.

There was a beat as he simply stared at the box in shock.

“What did he say?” Hanji broke the silence loudly from the back.

“Yes. Yeah, yes, yes of course yes,” Eren answered, tears already welling up in his eyes.

Levi slipped it on his finger and they kissed to the cheer of the small crowd.

“That’s how you do a surprise proposal!” Levi said spiking the empty box on the ground. “Beat that! HA!”

“Oh you asshole—“

“Don’t be mad because I won, be mad because I beat you so good, oh I beat your ass Jaeger.”

“Okay, alright—“

“You thought it would be cute to mess around with Chicken McDickNuggets—“

“Should I just throw this away then?” Eren asked, pulling out his own box.

Levi paused his showboating and he eyed the box. He took it and opened it quickly, then threw the chicken nugget that was inside at Eren’s head.

“He has faked me out so many times,” Levi explained to Isabel as she raced forward to congratulate them on their engagement. “I’m done.”

“He loves me,” Eren said, wrapping his arms around Levi’s waist.

“Apparently. I did ask you to marry me after all.”

“Mm,” Eren said.

And as Levi turned to his mother to thank her for making the drive, he felt Eren slip something cool and heavy onto his finger. He didn’t have to look down to know what it was. He ran his finger over the smooth design and smiled to himself.

“I knew you had it,” Levi said in a soft voice.

“Of course I did,” Eren said, lacing his fingers in Levi’s own. “Surprise.”

Eren was right. It did feel like coming home.

#replies #friendo #drabble #ereri #snk #snkartists network #if this is what you give me to work with this is all i can give #this is some of my fluffiest work yet #omglevixeren

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mwolf0epsilon · 7 years

Text

League of Legends - Rakan’s Big Day

Summary: Vastaya magic and Fae magic do not mix well, as Xayah and Rakan soon find out when the charmer is hit by one of Lulu’s most powerful spells during a match.

[Inspired by @tinypancakes super amazing and cute Giant Rakan fanart! I’ve always had a thing for making my favourite characters BIG so having one of the best champs of all time turn into a giant lovebird? That’s right up my alley!]

---

Xayah had trouble understanding Yordles. A simple enough concept right? She didn't get gist of then, their overly friendly and sociable nature, their quirky personalities, their overall nauseating cuteness.

It made no sense to her how this species had not died out while the Vastaya were under threat.

Human favoritism was just...Beyond reasonable comprehension.

Regardless of all this, they still beat faeries. Nothing was more annoying than the Fair Folk.

As it turned out, the world had a very very bad sense of humor when it came down to it, so Xayah was met with her worst nightmare in terms of complete and utter annoyance.

A Yordle that associated herself with faeries.

Lulu was perhaps the biggest pest Xayah had ever met.

Her bubbly happy-go-lucky personality.

Her love of small furry creatures and cupcakes.

Her love for turning people into small furry creatures and cupcakes...It was endless, how sickeningly cheery she was! But nothing was worse than how Rakan saw the little misfit…

For, unlike Xayah, Rakan had no problem with Yordles. Found them entertaining even! And Lulu? He was actually friends with Lulu!

Which meant Xayah was forced to deal with her on a regular basis!

It was torture!

Of course Rakan didn't get that.

Yordles, faeries...Gods above! Xayah hated them all! Especially their brand of magic!

Yordles were far too simplistic, incapable of seeing true potential like human mages, while faeries were too wild, too unpredictable. Unstable.

She wouldn't trust them as far as she could throw them…

So when she and Rakan were assigned to go on a match with Lulu and two other bland misfits, Xayah didn't think much other than about how glad she was that the Yordle wouldn't be in her peripherals for more than ten minutes.

And then, just as things usually tended to go sour, during a team fight to push the Middle Lane, Lulu had cast her Ultimate, intent on boosting their Top Laner, when Rakan got in the way unexpectedly…

Xayah was currently standing under the shade that her now gigantic mate cast upon her and the Elder Summoner that had come to figure out a way to reverse the damage done. Even with the hood covering most of his face he seemed stumped.

“I’m sorry you two, but there really isn’t anything I can do here.” he said, one hand resting idly at his hip while the other rubbed under his fuzzy chin. “Fae magic is a tricky type of sorcery.”

“That would be because fae are malevolent tricksters.” the female Vastayan retorted sourly. Humans were so clueless sometimes...Of course fae magic would be hard for them to comprehend!

“Well, I’m not really complaining. I’m really digging the view!” Xayah had to crane her neck upwards to look at Rakan’s face. His expression was one of complete glee, not at all bothered by his current predicament. “Not to mention how cute you’re looking babe.”

The rebel glared up at her counterpart, ears lowering as a sign of great displeasure at the choice of words.

Cute?

Her?

Never!

If anything she was a badass, badasses were not cute!

“Aaaand there’s that pout I like. Looks waaaay more adorable now that you’re so tiny~” Rakan was enjoying this far too much, she did not like it at all.

“I’m not the one who’s small Rakan.” she reminded bitterly as the male vastayan leaned in to get a better look at her. She could feel her feathers standing slightly when his face got close enough that his breathing was actually noticeable.

Hard not to take something of the sort into account when you were being blasted by warmth. “Urgh! Your breath smells horrible!”

Her partner raised an eyebrow at her, before backing off a bit to check. He apologized when he realized he smelled faintly of Honeyfruits.

They tasted amazingly but they smelled fairly bad to be honest.

“Well, I see you have this under control miss Xayah.” the Elder Summoner said as he turned to leave “I’ll leave you in charge of keeping Rakan under your care until this issue resolves itself.”

“What? No! You can’t just leave! You’re supposed to know how to fix this!” the rebel exclaimed, trying to follow the man only to pause when he raised a hand to stop her.

“I really am sorry Xayah, but Fae magic is just...unpredictable. Wild Growth isn’t a permanent spell, I do assure you...But as you know, the Vastaya produce their own natural magic. Rakan’s body is simply boosting the spell on its own. Eventually the effects will just fade.” and with that said the summoner walked away without another word.

Xayah was alone in dealing with this mess.

How she despised Lulu and her rotten trickery!

“Is this...Really bothering you that much?”

Xayah turned around at the sound of Rakan’s uncertainty. She was met with a furrowed brow and lowered ears.

Rakan looked to be a bit less relaxed now, his eyes full of worry and a little sadness.

It occurred to the female vastayan that perhaps she’d given her mate the wrong impression.

“Oh honey...No it’s not. It’s not that it’s...Yes.” she sighed, looking down at her feet before scratching the back of her neck. “But it’s not because of you.”

“Then...What is it about?” Rakan asked, once again leaning closer so as to make proper eye contact. It looked a bit weird when he had to practically lay down to do it.

Without hesitation, Xayah walked closer so as to touch his cheek, feeling a little bit of surprise at how warm he felt. She chalked it up as a side effect of being a giant.

“I just don’t trust fae magic. I don’t want you to get hurt because that little yordle witch wasn’t careful with her stupid stick.” she confessed.

“Awww you worry about me! That’s so sweet!” It was odd how she could feel his muscles move as he spoke, as well as the reverberating of his voice against her hand, but it didn’t feel too bad.

She shook her head at her mate and suppressed a smile.

“Of course I care. You always get yourself into trouble.” Most of which she helps getting him into, which to be honest Rakan never really seems to mind. Some of his acts of mischief however, she has nothing to do with. Like when he tried to steal chocolate on that ridiculous human festival, the one with the cards full of poems and heart shapes.

Needless to say that day had not gone well for him. Yordles could apparently be vicious if you tried to steal sweets from them.

“I live on the wild side. Keeping out of harm's way is just so dull!” He was grinning, she could count each individual slightly sharp tooth from her position.

Anyone else would have found that intimidating.

Xayah did not. She trusted Rakan to not go too overboard with his current condition.

“Very true.” she agreed, sitting down besides his face. “However I wouldn’t really recommend dancing or running around in your current size. You’d probably cause a bit of trouble.”

“Ah...But that means I have to sit around all day until I’m normal sized again!” Rakan looked absolutely horrified at the thought of this.

“I’m sorry baby, but I don’t want you getting kicked out for destroying the Institute of War. I’d miss you if that happened.” She patted him on the nose which, in hindsight, she should have realised was a mistake.

Rakan seemed to have a reply ready but he paused, eyes widening and ears falling flat against his skull before he scrunched up his face. The female rebel looked up in alarm, worried for a second that something was wrong before realising what was coming.

She backed up quickly but failed to give herself and Rakan space before he loudly sneezed, the burst of air sending her flying through the garden towards the path that lead back towards the main buildings.

Xayah let out an undignifying screech as she felt her body flip about in the air, before she collided with a much softer surface than the cobbled steps she’d been headed for.

After taking a few breaths and sitting up, she found herself sitting on the palm of her mate’s hand.

In the charmer’s defense, he looked adorably sheepish.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Xayah realized he must have thrown himself abruptly to catch her “Sensitive nose.”

She blinked owlishly at him, feathers all standing on edge as she recovered from the rush of adrenaline. That could have ended poorly had Rakan not reacted immediately.

“Note to self, no booping your nose…”

The abnormally larger male smiled before laughing, raising her up so that he could hold her close to his face.

He seemed to be inspecting her before slowly nuzzling his face against her body in a display of affection.

The relief in Rakan’s eyes was evident, she imagined the sight of her ragdolling through the air might have been quite a bit of a fright for him.

“Lets not go for any more improvised flying lessons.” she leaned into the warmness of his face. His feathers felt very fluffy, more so than usual.

“Yeah...Unless I’m there to catch you.” The charmer agreed, content with nuzzling his mate. He definitely enjoyed being able to hold her it seemed.

“You’d catch me every time I fell wouldn’t you?”

“Always.”

#Eps Writes:#League of Legends #Rakan and Xayah #Giant Rakan #GT League

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