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triple-7-heaven · 1 year

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ONCE AGAIN

thank you for waiting for me, readers. i do hope you enjoy it ♡ my first aespa fic, awesome! i've been going through it, thus the lack of content, but things are looking up for me. take care of yourselves, until next time :-) pairing: male reader x winter; words: 6.5k ; categories: aespa, winter, reader insert, smut, slightly storyline heavy

Back in high school, there was a girl who shone above the rest, but wasn’t necessarily popular. A girl who was a member of the math club, the photography club, and the dance team, whose evenings were filled with activities, who made many friends, but wasn’t fawned over by the student body in the way the true popular kids were.

One evening, you were at school pretty late, tutoring in the library. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice the time passing, until the janitor came in and told you he’d be needing to clean the library up, so you’d better scram. Backpack full of books, you rushed out of the library, and quickly made your way through the dark hallway. You turned the corner and nearly collided with a small girl, who grabbed onto your arm to steady herself.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you said, and the girl looked up at you. Oh, perfect… “Minjeong, shit, I’m sorry…”

“Hosang, what are you doing here so late?” Minjeong asked.

“Uh, tutoring… You know my name?” you asked incredulously. She smoothed out your sleeve, folded the collar of your shirt down, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“You know mine, too,” she quipped and giggled before running to catch up with her dance team friends, leaving you without room to explain yourself. To explain that no, I promise it isn’t weird, everyone knows your name, Minjeong, I’m not a crazy stalker, and I’m not here to spy on you through the gym windows while you dance. But you never got to explain yourself. To be fair, you did admire her from a distance. In the halls, at lunch, you wouldn’t deny that you looked at her with heart-shaped eyes. As pretty as you thought she was, you didn’t ever talk to her, something you would eventually regret.

Minjeong dropped out, and you didn’t run into her again. After graduation, you headed off to Seoul to learn how to fly, and soon, you realized someone else had come, too. Billboards, advertisements, you name it. For a solid month, wherever you looked, you saw her.

The same Kim Minjeong who you nearly sacked in the hallway that night, who, instead of yelling or being upset, straightened your clothes and wished you a good night; who knew your name when you were nobody. She was Winter, now, styled with gorgeous long, blonde hair, imposed over ethereal backgrounds and colors. You had to give it to whatever company she was running with, they made that old crush of yours flare right back up again with the way they marketed that girl. Financially stable enough under an air charter company flying small private jets, you decided you’d buy a set of the group’s albums when they debuted. Sitting on the floor of your apartment, pulling the photocards and posters out of those albums, you felt the full force of the regret from your school days: if you’d only talked to her in high school, you could have her number in your phone right this minute… But you were resigned now to being a fan, and a strongly biased one. That’s all you could be.

Charter piloting has benefits. Loads, surely. You’re essentially a glorified taxi driver, charging rich business people and celebrities $20k for a one hour flight from Incheon to Jeju. It’s morally wrong to allow a sucker to keep his money, right? As good as the pay, benefits, and overall experience are, the clientele… Well. Nothing you hate more than a stuck-up diva, and it’s even worse when you’re trapped in a flying metal tube with them. But you make do; the idol sightings you get on the job make all the asshole corporates worth it. From old school stars your parents might know, to drama actors and actresses, to the newest generation of idols, you welcomed a ton of each aboard, more than you could ever remember if you didn’t write it down. Unforgettable guests come along now and then; a trio of Twice members one weekend, some big-name producers behind insurmountably popular groups for a surfing trip, and the casts of award-winning shows on celebratory benders. Unforgettable loses its meaning when your secretary hands you today’s clipboard.

“This is mine? Thought it was… Uh…” you trail off and your eyes widen. The secretary laughs behind the desk.

“I knew it! You’re her fan, right? You always talk about Aespa. And I know you have her photocard in your wallet,” she winks at you as your face fills with an embarrassingly deep blush.

“It’s not just that, Jihye. I knew her in high school,” you say hesitantly.

“Oh my God, it’s like a reunion!” the girl squeals. “Wait, were you cool in high school?” she laughs.

“Uh… I don’t-”

“Yup, I knew it,” she says matter-of-factly. “Let me guess, the lame, nerdy guy had a crush on the cool-chick future idol?”

“No! Well, I don’t know,” you say. Your mind is too busy racing to think properly. The young secretary giggles to herself as you walk to the hangar. Preflight routines are difficult to complete when your mind’s racing faster than a Blackbird. Would she recognize you? Should you say something? Nah… You’re kicking tires pretending to be busy and the door opens. The trail end of a conversation…

“-ng is going to be your pilot. He’s a great aviator and an even better tour guide, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to show you around the island,” Jihye says. That damn secretary.

“Hosang? I feel like I’ve known someone with- oh, hi,” Minjeong stops abruptly when Jihye walks her around the aircraft to meet you. Long, wavy, dark hair, with bangs curled and blown out to mathematical perfection. Fair, unlined skin of a small and cute face. A simple and comfortable black sweater, a modest manicure, and plain, natural eye makeup. You bow shyly and wave.

“All good to go?” Jihye asks with the most annoying smile in the world.

“Yep,” you answer. Jihye departs and you welcome Minjeong to get comfortable while you finish up. A strange look occupies those perfect features as you give her a quick safety brief, then turn to enter the cockpit. Before the door closes behind you, “if you need anything, let me know.”

Why are you cold with her? Why are you nervous? You hardly smiled at her or asked what she was traveling for… Pure white clouds roll calmly underneath you. You resolve to be nice to her, even if she doesn’t recognize you, because let’s be real, it’s not her fault for not recognizing you. She meets tons of people. You’re just some not-cool kid from high school who had a crush on the cool-chick future idol. A pilot report over the radio snaps you out of it as you enter Jeju International’s airspace. Gusting winds and vertical movement, it’ll be a bumpy ride down. You reach for the intercom.

“Hey Minjeong, forgive me if I startled you. Looking at some rough air on the way down, but we’re about 20 minutes out. I’d sit down and belt in if you aren’t already, okay? Call if there’s any issues, and think of what you’d like for dinner.” You toggle off the intercom and wonder where the hell that came from. What, Jihye said you’d be happy to show Minjeong around the island, right? So you’ll show her. Your inner autopilot (funny…) takes over and you idly nudge the yoke for your approach phases. Wheels on the ground, hangar door shut, you stand and exit the cockpit. Minjeong looks up at you sleepily, and you sit across from her on one of the bench-style seats.

“So… dinner ideas?” you ask. Minjeong stands up and points at you groggily, shuffling towards you until her finger pokes the center of your chest.

“You. You went to my school, didn’t you?” she says, tiredness dripping from her voice. You nod and meet her eyes. “How come you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me…” you say softly, honestly. She moves her hand to your shoulder.

“Well you’re bigger, yeah, but… I recognize you. Bigger and taller. Same face,” she says. The smile can’t be kept off your face, unfortunately, and Minjeong smiles too.

“You sound really tired. Let’s get going,” you say. After a quick post-flight and signing off with the hangar staff, you face her and say: “Gonna change really quick, then we’ll head to dinner.” You slip into the FBO restroom and drop your duffel, then slip out of your annoyingly stiff white uniform shirt. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, then pull on a plain black t-shirt before swapping your slacks for black jeans. One careful ruffle of the hair later, and you’re leaving the restroom to meet Minjeong in the hallway.

“Alright, ready.” You carry Minjeong’s luggage and she trails behind you, much like a puppy, on the way to the parking lot. The modest rent car’s parked right where the staff told you, so you open the door for Minjeong and she shoots you a confused smirk. You smile back, and hop into the driver’s seat.

“So what’s the occasion? Family in Jeju?” you ask.

“Honestly, I… When I get time off, I run a secret travel blog… So I take vacations, and take pictures and stuff,” she says quietly. “I dunno, it’s kind of silly.”

“How come it’s silly? Sounds fun to me. We’ll have to go to some really cool places so you can write a good post, huh?” you reply. “Now, dinner?”

“Mm. I’m too tired to think,” she mumbles. Great, now the pressure’s on you to pick something perfect…

“How about Black Pork Street? Could make for some good photos, and it’s really as good as people say it is,” you say and put the car in gear.

“Sounds good…” she trails off. Really, really sleepy. But she makes an effort to talk to you. She makes an effort to keep the focus off of herself, and more on you; she asks you how graduation was, since she didn’t go, and you really had to reach deep into your memory for that one. She asks you about flying, about why you chose it, about your life in Seoul, and about how you never ran into each other in the city. You hold yourself back from saying ‘well no, Minjeong, we haven’t run into each other in a city of 10 million people, with about 9,999,999 of those people being more interesting than me.’ When you arrive, Minjeong is lively and excited, telling you about her camera and asking what’s next after dinner. You kick yourself when you start wishing for a specific sort of dessert. Quit being dirty-minded, idiot…

“Let’s go! I’m hungry,” Minjeong says, dragging you out of your thoughts. She looks perfect taking photos on the street, pointing her camera at the sky, at signs, storefronts, plants, street cats. The way her eyes light up when she takes a good photo, runs over to show you, insists that you take a few of her; she’s not much different than she was back then, huh? A person with a good heart. A person whose heart you’d like to learn.

“Is it our honeymoon? First date? Must be a first date, you look nervous,” the dorky waiter says, nodding to you. Minjeong laughs, and you blush; the difference between you.

“Uh… J-just high school friends,” you manage to say. Minjeong jots notes and snaps photos throughout the meal, and as you’re serving up some pork belly for her, she takes a few photos.

“C’mon, make it look nice,” she whines.

“You’re serious about this, huh?” you laugh.

“It’s… It’s my baby. My project. My travel blog is like… I dunno, it’s a way for me to be creative, but not be Winter. It’s a way to just be Minjeong,” she slowly explains. “To have a space that’s all my own. Where I can talk about stuff I like, and not worry about press, or netizens, or fans, or anti-fans.”

“I get it. A space of your own. I should call you Minjeong then, right?” you say, nodding your head a bit too fast and a bit too much. She smiles and nods. But she nods like a regular person, not like you.

Dinner passes without incident. If we can ignore the waiter thing. Do you look like a couple or something? Maybe you do compliment each other. Maybe you seem like high school sweethearts. Maybe you could be.

“Hosang?” she says as she leans forward. “You in there? Let’s go to the hotel!” You snap out of it for the second time and hop up to lead the way to the rent car. The paperwork Jihye gave you had most of the information listed for Minjeong’s trip, and the hotel she’d be staying in was, of course, the Lotte City Hotel. No less grandeur for the princess. The GPS gets you there quickly, and you pull up to the front doors, leaving the car on as you grab Minjeong’s suitcase. Just as you’re rounding the front of the car and waving goodnight, she makes a confused face.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” she whines. Minjeong the kid…

“Oh, uh, yeah. I was gonna head to the motel near the airport, that’s where my room is. Did you need something else?” you say.

God, why do I sound like a customer service bot? ‘Did you need something else?’ Seriously?

“I… I dunno, I guess I just wanted someone to hang out with,” she replies.

Oh. To hang out?

“Oh, of course, Minjeong. Let me park, I’ll meet you,” you say. And she’s waiting for you in the same spot once you return to the front door; she didn’t even go inside. Her long, dark hair’s ruffled by the wind. Cute.

NO. Not cute. Not cute or pretty or hot. She’s my client, my customer, my responsibility; not my crush, my girlfriend, or my next body. Look at the ground or something, for the love of God, Hosang.

But looking at the ground can’t keep her legs from your peripheral view. She walks through the sliding doors and you follow behind with her suitcase in your hand, and your duffel on your shoulder. Long, slender, perfect legs, and you’re looking right at them. You snap your gaze to the windows and pretend to be looking at the skyline through the windows while Minjeong checks in. After a moment, she turns to you and smiles.

“Do you have a swimsuit?” she asks. You shake your head. “There’s shops on the bottom floors, go and find one, okay? Meet me on the sixth floor. There’s a pool! The pictures are gonna be perfect!”

She shoves a room key into your hand and takes the bags from you. You’re left in the lobby, dumbfounded, wondering how you should navigate this. A bellhop whistles at you.

“First night with her? Sheesh,” the young man says. “Score!”

“Weird situation, man. Weird as hell,” you trail off as you walk away, still shaking your head, more so to yourself now. Okay, shops. Swimsuit. You begin to feel insecurity nagging at you. You’re lean, sure, but not perfect. Not as perfect as… Well, nevermind. Quickly, you make your way through the shops, and find a pair of rather plain, mid-length black trunks at a duty free shop, changing into them in the restroom and leaving your shirt on. The elevator ride lasts forever. And ever. And ever. Until the robotic voice announces,

Sixth floor.

The doors open and you walk quietly out to the open area of the pool. You see one figure in the water already. She’s facing the city, hugging the edge of the pool and gazing at the skyline. The water laps at her back, just below her shoulder blades, and the silky smooth skin of her back is laid out for you, with only thin bikini straps to cover it. Her arms and shoulders are small, toned, but soft. Fancams and jacket shoots could never do justice to the sculpted angel right in front of your face.

“How’s the temperature?” you say. She turns around. Her top is composed of white strings and back fabric; conservative, but form-fitting to her chest, that Goldilocks chest, the perfect balance of size and shape. Her collarbones are distinct, curved, beautiful. Hell, every curve you can see is perfect, from the angle of her jaw to the base of her neck to the gentle taper of her arms.

“It’s heated,” she giggles. “Come on!” Insecurity. Nagging. Loudly.

“Are you sure? I can just hang out and take pictures for you up here, it’s not-”

“Come onnn,” she pleads. You turn away from her and slowly drag your shirt off, then kick your shoes and socks off near where Minjeong left hers. The water is slightly warmer than room temperature, and a welcome change from the chilly air. You sit yourself down on a ledge in the pool, and Minjeong swims to your side, sitting right next to you. Not close enough to touch.

“See? Isn’t it nice up here?” she says.

“It is. Ever been to Jeju before?” you ask.

“Nope. I think it’s even nicer with a good tour guide.”

“Ah, come on. I’m not all that.”

“You’re…” she trails off and sighs. Her hair tickles your shoulder when she leans into you. “I wish I’d talked to you more back then.”

“Hmm? Don’t worry about it, that’s way past us,” you mumble.

“So… If I said I wanted to make up for lost time… What would you say?” she says and you feel her fingertips smoothly run over your leg under the water.

“I think I’d ask where that idea came from,” you say breathlessly. She moves her hand to your waist, arm around your front.

“I always liked you. I just didn’t think you liked me, you were always so quiet,” she says. Your hand, now, meets her waist, and your eyes meet hers.

“Is this okay? I mean… Can you do stuff like this? Now that you’re all famous and everything,” you say, struggling to form any words at all, overwhelmed by the electric sensations of skin on skin underwater. She cups your cheek with a wet hand and nods to the camera bag.

“Can I get some pictures for the blog? Before… Before I forget,” she finishes cautiously.

Before you forget, huh… Gonna make me take an impromptu bikini shoot of one of the most beautiful women ever. No big deal.

Minjeong disentangles from you; she tosses you a towel and you dry your hands, then power on the camera. Eyes fixed on the camera’s display screen, you start shooting. She moves through pose after pose, and you can feel yourself hardening. How could you not? A perfect, slim, pale Minjeong, body covered with water droplets, her skin shining in the flash of the camera.

“Would you check and see if those ones are any good?” she calls to you. You begin scrolling through the photos, and sure, they’re great. It would be hard to take a bad photo of her.

“Yeah, these are good,” you say.

“Let’s take a few more, then we can relax a bit,” she says. The camera display switches back to photo mode, and you look through; this time, your heart stops. The screen shows you that Minjeong has shed her top, and now, the camera focuses on her bare breasts, nipples erect in the cold air, water streaming down her chest. Her hourglass shape is all the more prominent now, and you wonder how it would feel to run your hands all over her wet body. You begin to lower the camera, but she shakes her head. “These are just for me. Please?”

“J-just for you?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. Her poses grow more erotic. She squeezes her breasts together with her arms, grabs them with her hands, and leans over for you to capture a shot of her from the side with her back arched. Now you’re definitely hard, no question about it, but at least now there’s no way she could be mad at you for it. It’s her fault. She moves towards you, and you set the camera on the ground next to the pool.

“How’d they turn out?” she asks. Her arms reach around the back of your neck, and yours wrap around her waist.

“You’re evil,” you say into her neck before planting a few kisses there.

“Oh, how could you say that? It seems like you had a good time,” she says. Her hips grind forward against your cock; she wants you to know that she knows how hard she’s gotten you. “You know, to be really honest, Hosang, you’re the first guy I ever thought about while touching myself.”

Really?

“Why?”

“You’re an idiot- Oh, God,” she’s interrupted by moans as you kiss further down her neck. “I just like you, okay?

“Well I just like you, too. Always did,” you say.

“I hope so. Otherwise this could be kind of awkward,” she giggles. You withdraw from her neck to place a kiss on her temple, and finally, on her lips. She tastes so sweet, lips so soft, tongue so aggressive. Her hand grabs onto your hair and she forces your head to turn so she can deepen the kiss. Minjeong seems hungry, desperate. You sit back on the ledge with your high school crush in your lap, her legs around your waist. She’s got both hands on your face, and she observes you like some sort of specimen.

“What’s, uh, what’s up?” you say, eyebrows raised.

“Your face… As different as it is, it almost looks exactly the same as the face I fell for back then. And I think I’m falling for it again,” she says. You begin to speak, but she places a finger over your lips. “I know what you’re gonna say. Just don’t think about it right now. Don’t. Think. About anything.”

Between her words, she’s taking your hands in hers, and moving them to her bare chest. You swallow. Hard. She’s right. If only for tonight, for this weekend, for a week, you have to just let it go. Her breasts are soft, and she whimpers when you squeeze them. She giggles and moans through a toothy smile when you roll her nipples between your fingers. Minjeong is clay in your hands, melting under every single touch, and it’s your job to make this trip unforgettable for her, to mold her into shapes of pleasure she’s never felt before.

“You know there’s a sauna,” she whispers through gasps.

“Good idea,” you reply. Water falls from both of your bodies when you stand up with her still wrapped around you, clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree. A quick jog from the pool to the sauna, but the wind still manages to chill you both to the bone. The sauna, though, is comfortably warm. Minjeong in your lap again, you sit on the wooden bench and she devours your neck. Her tongue and breath are hot against your skin and the steam begins to make you sweat already. She stands and takes hold of your hand, beckoning you to follow suit; you stand close to her and she looks up to meet your eyes. Small hands make their way to your waistband.

“Can I?” she asks softly. You help her slide the trunks down your legs, and your cock springs out, painfully hard, smacking your stomach. Her hand wraps around it immediately, and she moves in to kiss you again. She moves her tongue slowly against yours and her hand works your length all the while; her delicate fingers find the precum dripping from your tip and spread it generously. Delicately, she kneels; cautiously, she licks your cock from the base to the tip before latching onto the head and giving gentle suction. She looks up at you with her deep brown eyes and you place your hands on her head. You’re gentle with her. Your fingers make their way through her hair, and you keep your hips as still as you can, so as not to overwhelm her. You feel the back of her throat suddenly, and a moan escapes your mouth briefly, before you slap your hand over it. Minjeong backs off and strokes you with her hand.

“Don’t… I want to hear you,” she says. You feel your cock twitch, and you let out a sigh. A soft moan when her strokes speed up. “Good…”

“What if someone-”

“If someone hears? They’ll leave. Don’t worry,” she says. She gives you a few more seconds of suction, tongue massaging your head, then stands back up. You switch places with her, only now, she casually strips her bottoms off and sits on the wooden bench. Her toned thighs spread apart slowly while you stand back to take her all in.

After all these years, there she is; imagine telling high school Hosang what’s happening right now. Forget moaning her name while I jerk off… She’s right there.

Beads of sweat roll down your face and body. Minjeong, too; she’s covered in dewdrops of her own. Somehow you think they must look better on her than they do on you. A deep breath, and you step towards her. Her chest rises and falls rapidly under your hands when you give her pert breasts some more attention. You’re on your knees, now, watching her face contort and listening to her voice catch in her throat. If she never wore a bra again, you’d surely be happy. Kisses planted down her body, from her sternum down her stomach, halting at her hipline. You take a moment to stroke her thighs softly with your fingertips, and they shudder. More kisses for her legs, from her ankles up her calves to her inner thighs. Her sweat is salty and sweet. How will the rest of her taste? You look at her again.

"What do you like?" you ask.

"I… I don't know."

"When you touch yourself, how do you do it?"

"That's embarrassing…"

"When you're using your hands, imagining they're mine, what do you do?"

"..."

"Show me, so I can do it for you." Minjeong’s eyes are half-lidded, lust-laden. When you look down at her perfect, trimmed pussy, it’s dripping; your words got to her. She takes hold of your right wrist and places your hand on her stomach, thumb on her clit.

“Slowly,” she whispers. You oblige, and slowly make circles on her clit, spreading her wetness over the sensitive nub. Her next move brings your left hand to her mouth. She sucks on your two middle fingers, taking them deeply into her mouth. Wet enough now, she moves your hand, palm up, near her pussy, and nods. “Inside.” The walls of her pussy are so hot, so scorching hot, inch after inch engulfing your fingers. One curl of your fingers and she’s cursing, moaning, bucking her hips. Poor girl must be starving.

“Is that good for you, Minjeong?” you say. Your voice seems like it’s dropped an octave and slowed down about half a measure. It doesn’t matter; she can’t answer you, anyway. She’s busy stuttering out your name. Temptation gets the best of you and you move your thumb away. Minjeong whines, but it’s soon replaced by a near scream when your thumb is replaced by your tongue. As expected, she tastes incredible, some remnants of salt water from the pool, but overwhelmingly sweet underneath. She clenches around your fingers a bit.

“F- Oh my fucking-” Minjeong stutters. Her eyes roll back in her head. Her delicate fingers grip your hair, not so delicately. Rapid, shuddering breaths cause her toned stomach to rise and fall quickly, her arms and legs jerk, and the salty and sweet flavor floods your tongue. Unlatched from your hair, Minjeong’s hands grab your face and yank you up towards her face; as you stand, the tip of your cock grazes over her clit.

“Whoops,” she whispers. Her lips are warm and smooth when they lock onto yours. And you feel her hand creep down your abdomen. Your attempt to break the kiss is foiled with Minjeong’s arm around the back of your head, and her other hand moves up and down your shaft. She’s devious, smiling into the kiss as you fill her mouth with moans, tightly gripping your cock and twisting her hand with her up and down motions.

Kim Minjeong from high school is jerking me off. Kim Winter from Aespa is jerking me off.

It’s a mindfuck. She kneads the back of your neck and sucks on your tongue. You can’t fuck her in a public sauna… Can you?

“Minjeong…” you whisper against her cheek. She looks at you innocently. Like someone who isn’t driving you crazy.

“What?” she giggles.

“How about we go to your room? Could be bad if, you know, someone sees us,” you mumble.

“How about once here, and a few more times there?” she says with a wink. “It’s late, baby… No one will come up.”

‘Baby.’

Minjeong guides you towards her pussy with the hand that had never left your cock. Her legs rest on your shoulders, and you grip her pillowy soft thighs to brace yourself for impact, for entry. Her heat begins to swallow your length, quite easily due to how wet and aroused she is, and she makes the hottest noise she’s made the whole night. And now you’re hilted in Kim Minjeong in a hotel sauna with an unlocked door. Her nails scratch at your chest and shoulders frantically.

“God, so full…” she moans.

“You want me to fuck you now?” you put the sultry voice back on. She nods. “When you’re using your toys, imagining they’re me…”

“Please, Hosang, just fuck me,” she pleads. “However you want. However you need.” It’s all you need to hear, certainly. You pull out nearly all the way, and watch your cock disappear inside of her with a grunt. Your thumbs nearly touch as you wrap your hands around her small waist to pull her down around your shaft with every thrust. All inhibitions are gone, any restraints have been lifted; you’re slamming into her hard, and the both of you moan loudly enough for the reception desk to hear. Minjeong’s tight abs contract and relax under your hands, you look at her face to see her drooling with her eyes rolled back. Like, actually, really drooling.

“Fuck, babe… You’re really enjoying this, huh?” you say gruffly. You swipe your thumb over her chin and she leans down to suck on it instead. Lustful eyes meet your gaze and your thumb pops out of her lips.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” she says. A quick sigh to punctuate her sentence. “So many years…”

“Well-” you try to speak, but she clenches herself around you. “Fuck. I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have-”

“Pull out baby,” she sighs. “I want to swallow you.”

Regretfully, you withdraw from Minjeong’s tight hole, but the steam keeps your cock rather warm while she kneels down. After a lick from the base to the tip, she takes you all the way into her throat. She takes your hands and places them on her head, looking up at you sinfully. With fistfuls of her dark hair, you pull back, and thrust in again. She gags and coughs, but she never gives up, and soon, you’re shooting rope after rope, nearly convulsing in pleasure. She strokes you into her open mouth, wringing every drop out of your spent cock. When she’s satisfied, she swallows and stands up to kiss your neck and chest.

“How about… How about we go to the room?” she says.

“You want me to stay with you tonight?” you ask. She laughs a bit. Her laugh is fluttering and adorable, a sharp contrast with the noises she was making moments earlier.

“Of course.”

After getting dressed and gathering Minjeong’s things, you head upstairs. In the elevator, you stand behind her; she grinds back onto your groin and brings your hands to her chest. Floors fly by and the number on the small screen goes up as you massage her chest and her delicate moans get you painfully hard once again. She rushes in front of you to the room, giving you another view of those creamy, toned legs, and you do your best to catch up. Once inside, she sits on the bed in front of you and waits. Her hands travel slowly from her hips to her knees, and even slower she parts them with her hands to reveal the glistening skin peeking out from her bikini. Her breath hitches when you step forward and gaze down at her.

“I showed you what to do last time,” Minjeong whispers. “I want to see what you’ll do on your own.”

“No pressure, right?” you joke, and she smiles. Her thighs are soft and malleable in your hands, and her neck softer under your lips. You untie the bikini top and cast it to the side, then kiss further and further down her neck. Kisses travel down her neck, over her collarbones, down to her sternum. There’s still salt from the pool on her skin, and you lick towards her nipple before giving it a bite. Minjeong jumps slightly and closes her fists in your hair. Your mouth works on one nipple and your hand kneads the other breast, perfectly sized for your hand. After switching sides once or twice, you kiss her stomach. Her hands move to your shoulders as you kneel on the floor in front of her.

Minjeong’s legs are wide open. You slide your fingers into the waistband of the swimsuit and slowly drag the bottoms down. More kisses travel from her knees across her inner thighs and up to her hip bones. She’s still dripping for you and you drag your tongue upwards over her pussy slowly to savor her. You spit on your fingers and slip them inside of her easily.

“Ohhh my God-” she whispers and bucks her hips. “Go faster…”

“Mm, so impatient, Minjeong,” you reply. Your tongue returns to her clit and makes smooth circles. She tenses around your fingers when you curl them back towards you, her moans growing louder, grip on your hair growing stronger. Taking her by surprise, you withdraw your fingers and stand up. While her hands work automatically on pulling your swim trunks down, you take a moment to just gaze at her. Her ruffled, semi-wet hair, strands sticking to her forehead and swaying wildly as she kisses up your thighs. Her flushed, glistening skin, cheeks inflating and deflating with the waves of pleasure coursing up your torso as your length disappears into her mouth again. Her pretty shoulders and arms. Her nose buried in your stomach.

Fuck.

“You’re really good at that,” you moan. With a yelp Minjeong is scooped up into your arms and tossed, more or less, onto the pristine hotel bed. She pats the bed beside her, and you get the message. You lie back and let her mount you. She guides your tip to her entrance, and once in line, she slams her hips down aggressively. You’re content to let her ride. Her body moves in mesmerizing ways as she grinds on you, seeking the best angle for your cock to rub against all the right places. Just as soon as you begin thrusting into her, your phone starts ringing.

“Dammit, sorry, Minjeong,” you curse and remove the girl from your lap. Fucking spam call? Really? With the phone silenced, you turn around to see her lying back on the pillows.

Like an animal, you crawl towards her; you feel like one at least, with the way your cock is throbbing. She pulls her legs up for you, and you guide your tip towards her dripping center. The warm feeling envelops you again and you sigh, eyes closed. Your hands find her waist and keep her torso still while you begin to drive into her. You almost can’t even hear her whines anymore, her voice punctuated by each thrust, curses and iterations of your name following every other sound.

“-nside me,” Minjeong’s voice fades in as your stupor breaks a bit. You lean forward and make a confused expression. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you fill me…”

And something about the way she says it just obliterates any second thoughts you may or may not have had. Her high, airy voice, begging for such an impure action, intensifies the warm, wet pleasure surrounding your cock. It only gets warmer and wetter as your cum dumps into Minjeong, deeper and deeper inside of her, coating your shaft, dribbling out onto the sheets. Your thrusts slow down, but your dick stays inside; you’re tired. You wrap your arms around her waist, and lie down gently on top of her with your face in her neck. She administers gentle scratches to your scalp.

“You came so much, Hosang,” she whispers. Her legs settle around your back.

“Drained all my energy,” you laugh weakly.

“You’re heavy. Can we switch?” she says. So you do; you roll onto your back. Your cock slips out in the meantime, and you both laugh about it. She fits in your arms like she was made for them.

For a long while you lie there. The cold air condition and the crisp sheets are a welcome contrast to your steaming hot skin and the panting, sweating furnace lying on top of you. Minjeong painstakingly brings her hand to your cheek and kisses the other with soft lips. A slow blink. A thought in your mind.

Is this what it feels like?

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. She knows.

“How do you feel about me?” you reply. Her expression is mixed.

“How do I feel… I feel like there’s a reason we ended up on this trip together,” she answers. Her body rises as you take a deep breath. “I mean I feel like something brought us together.”

“What do you want to do about it?” you ask.

“I want to find out why. There must be a reason this happened, you know?” she says. A small yawn. “Like… There must be something waiting at the end of a journey we can take together to find out. Or something.”

Together? A journey?

“Think it might be time for you to go to sleep,” you whisper. Her baby hairs stick to your face when you kiss her temple. The sheets are smooth and cool when you pull them up over Minjeong’s body and yours. She falls asleep quickly. You don’t. You’re thinking about IFR plans and what to say to her in the morning. Your fingers trace along the smooth skin of her hips and lower back for a while. The softness is comforting. And you fall asleep.

Is this part gonna go in the blog post?

#aespa fanfic #winter x male reader #aespa x reader #aespa x male reader #aespa smut #winter smut #girl group smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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leviathanleva · 19 days

Text

Daisy

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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

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Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

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[5.5k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 6 "The Book"

Green.

Green spanning as far as the eye could see. A thick, overflowing forest accompanied by such humid air it made you nauseous and slightly out of breath. It did well to shield you from the sun and you no longer had to use your blazer as a substitute for a poncho and avoid a sunburn.

It took you nearly two days to stop gawking at the luscious flora once you’d set foot in it and the ghoul had found it necessary to bark a threat at you a couple of times when your feet had stilled to take in the scenery. You didn’t let his grumpy nature affect you though. You’d never seen such a view and you let your eyes feast with mouth ajar and hands fisted. Sticky mud, twigs, and leaves clung to the soles of your boots and the vapor you were sure was radioactive frizzed up your hair.

You’d expected the forest to be brimming with life, from animals to insects, birds, and critters, but there was nothing. When you took the time to recollect the past three weeks while silently following behind your bounty-hunter-turned-tour-guide, you hadn’t seen any birds. The bombs wiping them out was the obvious explanation, they were gentle creatures, they didn’t stand a chance and it was a melancholic realization. Bird songs were the symphony of nature and it was painful to know you’d never be able to hear it.

You adjusted the backpack strap away from your throat and rubbed at the sore spot before taking a few springy steps to catch up with the ghoul. His pace had quickened for reasons unknown and you had to jog to be able to keep up with him. It was tedious considering the slippery ground actively worked on slowing you down, but you’d take this over going a faceoff with the sun any day.

Humanity’s traces could be spotted scattered amidst the greenery, bits of metal sprouting from the dirt, tattered cloth at the bases of the trees, or hanging off low branches, a plane wreckage in the distance. It was comforting that other people had passed by your route and left a piece behind, an echo of their presence. You wanted to believe they were good because so far there hadn’t been a soul you had encountered that hadn’t tried to attack you.

WELCOME FOR TO TILLBURRY

A bright red billboard was risen high above the treeline, fastened to a multitude of wooden planks nailed together. The once pearl white paint was now a deep yellow with spangles of rusty brown, the words were peeling off, weathered down by time, you could tell even from where you stood.

You stand shoulder to shoulder, except the ghoul’s is more at level with your cheek. He kicks some buildup off his shoes and opens his canteen.

The settlement is right down the hill. Tillburry. You made it to Tillburry.

“We made it?” you release your lips from their toothy prison and your face lights up with an untamable grin. You beam up at him and shake his arm excitedly. “We made it, Mister.” your eyes dart back to the sign, you’re practically vibrating next to him. “I can’t believe it!”

He pauses between swigs and glances down to where you’ve taken hold of his wrist. His lack of reply stirs your attention and you follow his gaze, then let go and step away with a wary expression.

“Uh…Sorry. I just got a little – ” you’re tugging at the frilly edges of your dress anxiously, one foot readies on its toes if you spotted even a glimpse of a rope peaking from behind his back. “ – I didn’t – No tying up, please? My ankles are still sore from last time, Mister.”

You’re an eye-bat away from bolting, again, and it never works because he’s scarily good with a lasso, but you’re stupidly optimistic. Last time you’d gotten on his nerve he’d tied you up and hung you from the ceiling lamp of an old farmhouse, gagged as well, mind you, because you wouldn’t stop talking. At least, he’d been kind enough to take your shoes off so you could stretch your feet and keep the blood circulation going. The fact that he’d used you as a sentient coat hanger was less nice.

Then again, you’d gotten another dose of his scent while he’d had dinner by himself and ignored your existence for a good hour or two. It wasn’t all bad, or maybe it was but you were too dependent on him to protest against his unorthodox punishments.

“Ain’t no point.” he clicks his tongue and glosses over his canteen before tucking it away. “You don’ learn nothin’ cept how to complain harder.” he taps a gloved finger against the center of your forehead, forceful enough to have your neck tipping back and you scrambling for balance. “Thought you were supposed to be smart. How come nothin’ sticks in that lil skull o’ yours?”

“Mm, have you thought about maybe…” your eyes squint at his rough gesture and you pull away with a wince. “Maybe a nicer approach to your lessons, Mister?”

“Nice don’t keep you alive, Darlin’.” he doesn’t spare a breath before answering and after a moment you reluctantly nod.

His malignity and somber methods were a necessity both for your development and safety yet you wished it weren’t so. You wanted for a kinder world and less spilled blood and were likely one of many, but no one had the privilege of choosing what they were born into. Despite all ill circumstances, you were still lucky to be taken under the wing of an expert, taught how to survive by someone who’d lived so long and accumulated enough knowledge to fill a library.

It wasn’t peaches and marmalade up here, although you had a can of both stuffed somewhere in the depths of your backpack.

The hand which had been resting on his hip reaches for the hefty tato sack slumped next to his boot and he secures it over his shoulder before nudging his head towards the welcome sign.

“Les go.”

You’re hot on his heel, stomping down the mucky hill with acute prudence, your dress was already dirty, you didn’t need to add mud stains to the extensive collection.

The peaks and roofs of ramshackle buildings loom above the shabby fence surrounding the settlement, dyed in varieties of reds and yellows, some fully, others unfinished because there was no more paint to spare. The vegetation became sparse and the soil soon gave way to dusty gravel that crumbled delightfully under your boots. Once close enough for a better inspection, you notice the defensive walls are nothing more than plates and pieces of different scrap metal bolted together. A swirl of barbed wire is draped on the top and rotting pikes are sticking out from the base.

It wasn’t exactly the warm welcome you were expecting.

Anxiety and excitement kept you glued to the ghoul, mostly hidden behind his unfriendly frame. A meager excuse came up as a means to start up a conversation that might ease your quickening pulse and sweaty palms. You decided to keep the silence, though, opting to restrain your questions for a later time, when there was less tension built up on his shoulders and his fingers weren’t instinctively gliding over the handle of his pistol.

You heard the marketplace before you saw it. Your stomach flipped once you stepped beyond the open town gates, now being able to put faces to the buzzing chatter lingering in the air.

“Holy moly…” you gasp with brows raised high and your step falters.

It was busy.

After years of solitude and countless dreams of a normal pre-nuclear war life, after nearly a month in the company of a single man who preferred action over word, the reality of civilization crashed into you like a boiling wave. Hot prickles pinched at random places around your body, beads of sweat are already trickling from your armpits and your skin becomes clammy. With a heart lodged in your throat, you stumble forward, giving in to the ghoul’s rough tug on your wrist.

“Keep movin’.” his rasp fails this time, impossibly outmatched by the turbulence simmering inside you.

“Mm…sorry.” it’s an empty apology, insincere because he sees your eyes flitting and knees wobbling.

You never expected the settlement to be this…overwhelming.

Strangers are passing by and blending together in a jumbled blur of worn-out clothes and limbs. Carts are being rolled between the isles, restocking items as soon as they’re bought, and smoke lingers high above your head, amassed from chimneys, food booths, and cigarettes.

You find it difficult to breathe the more information your short-circuiting brain is forced to process.

“Get your RadAway right here good people! Three for the price of one – ”

“ – Cactus fruit for sale! Fresh out the – ”

“ – Bullets, guns and more bullets – ”

Stalls were huddled together, adorned with junk and trinkets, things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And even if the owners already had at least one customer looking over their products, they still hollered at the crowd bustling around them. There’s a heavy stench in the air, of car oil and lack of hygiene, sweat and musk blending in with roasting meats that smell like no animal you’ve eaten before.

Shopkeepers had the doors to their establishments open, waving over weary wanderers with promises of a good time and helpful products.

“Stimpaaaks! Rad-X and more! Whatever your heart desires! Save a life! Buy a stimpaaak!”

You avoided eye contact, keeping your sights low and only skimming over the intricacies of the stands. The flood of strangers was cordial enough not to bump into you, but when a roasted cricket was shoved in your face and behind it a pair of foggy blue orbs stared right into your soul you recoiled.

“Ah, no thank you, Sir!” you give the merchant a wide apologetic smile and lift a hand to your mouth.

You latch onto the ghoul’s forearm when the merchant’s face falters for a split second before he’s already trying the unfortunate person behind you. For a moment there you’d thought he’d pounce on you, there was no telling considering the man looked half-dead.

“Aww, was wrong, Sweetheart?” your bodyguard barks out a laugh, sneering down at you. “Don’ want a cricket on a stick?”

You don a thin-lipped, unimpressed expression and detach yourself from him.

“I’ll stick to crackers and canned beans, thanks.”

His teasing tone unwittingly shook off a part of your anxiety. The overstimulation eases to a broiling irritation and most of the smells and sounds fade behind a wall of ignorance. You still sweat more than you’d like, but your pulse nestles back into a steady rhythm. You take a breath and squeeze your palms a few times, working through an alien mental exertion as your face settles with neutrality.

“Suit yourself.” he snorts, guiding you towards a particular stand. “Dunno what you’re missin’ though.”

“Think I’d rather keep it that way.” you murmur under your breath and turn back for a more in-depth examination of the unappealing delicacy. “…Yeah.”

Bugs…Who eats fucking bugs?

There’s a steaming caldron propped up over a steady fire, but you can’t discern the scent and your upper lip is already twitching into a disgusted scowl. The owner has his elbows resting on the display counter, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled to just below his meaty biceps. His thick mustache spreads into a delighted smile and he abandons his hunched-over posture when he notices your uncanny duo approaching.

“Welcome! Browse at your leisure.”

“One o’ those.” the ghoul motions towards the cauldron and you’re ready to fight back nausea, anticipating a monstrous fiend turned snack to emerge.

You were wrong.

The man sinks a ladle inside the lively water and fishes out a potato.

“Oh.” you blurt without a second thought.

“What d’you think it was?” he tosses a few caps on the counter and plucks the boiled potato from the merchant’s ladle and you can’t help but grimace.

“At this point, nothing would surprise me.” you answer honestly, then cock your head with a face scrunched at the unnerving sight. “Doesn’t that sting? He just…y’know…took it out of the water?”

Does this man honestly have no pain receptors or is he just high again? Either way, you were left stunted every time he took a blow without a flinch. From bullets to hot potatoes, nothing could scathe him.

“ ‘S fine.” he blows away the steam and unfastens his hunting knife to cut a sizable piece from the top, then tosses it at you.

You catch it with a precious glint in your eye, graced with a bittersweet smile. Him willingly splitting food was a new addition, but an act you cherished fervently. A display of custody so fleeting and illusive it was unclear how intentional it was.

Then the heat finally registers and you’re forced to juggle the mushy piece between your hands.

The ghoul dips his half in the disturbed salt pile next to the fresh vegetable crate, and you mimic him once the potato has cooled enough to hold. He’s already moving and you follow closely behind while giving your treat a few more needed puffs and tapping off the excess salt.

“So what are we looking for now, Mister?” you ask and dodge bumping shoulders with a dazed old woman while adopting a steady tempo by his side. You’re looking up at him with wonder while sinking your teeth into the potato and he’s very tempted to lick his thumb and try to wipe off that incessant glee from your face.

“Trader’s shop.”

“Oh, right! For the Pip – ” a hand is harshly smacked over your mouth. He shakes his head curtly and his mouth dips into a short-lived frown; you clear your throat and nod in understanding.

Right…Everything from the vaults was considered a rare treasure on the surface. People were ready to kill for a single one of the items each of you was carrying. Caps flowed whenever a mint-condition lint roller was involved, let alone more practical things. And Pip-boys were at the top of the pyramid. They were priceless. Some would sacrifice a limb to get their hands on one because it meant they were settled for life.

You scan over the current of wanderers for any prying eyes but find none. It was too noisy; your words had been drowned out the moment they’d escaped.

Maybe you should try not to forget you aren’t living in a vault anymore…

You hold onto a wrinkle at the back of his coat as he cuts through the busy market, then wipe away the remnants of potato bits with the back of your hand.

Everything seems to have the same coat of decomposition to it, from the persons to the buildings, but it has a charm to it, it’s lively and somewhat welcoming.

Familiarizing your surroundings presents you with a feeling of peace and the anxiety is finally washed away for good. Well, as long as you keep reminding your self-centered doubt that nobody’s gawking at you or paying you any mind. You’re just a nobody lost in a sea of nobodies and you like it that way, just you and the ghoul minding your business, not being threatened or attacked or anything that would coerce you into taking action.

A safe haven. Finally.

A gargled moo pierces through the din of chitchat and your head snaps. And there, amidst the stalls a cow is lazily sloshing at a bucket of water while simultaneously rearing its snout around and sniffing the air because it has two freaking heads. It looks skinned, reminds you of your grumpy gunslinger and you can’t help but titter. You make a turn towards it, handholding with your nosiness. Then you reassure the concerned squeal at the back of your head that you’ll find your way back by the distinguishable cowboy hat sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd.

Just a closer look and then you’ll be right back by his side.

A two-headed cow. How fascinating!

Your escapade is short-lived. An iron grip takes hold of your backpack no more than five steps in and jerks you back. The strap digs into your throat and you gag with a backward blunder.

“Ehugh – ”

“ – The hell you think you’re goin’?”

The back of your head collides with a solid chest and you gaze up to meet an acquainted scolding face.

“The cow. It has two heads.” you answer candidly, blinking up at him, dumbfounded. “I – ” your lips purse as you briefly mull over your next sentence. “ – I wanted to see it up close?”

“ ‘S called a brahmin, Darlin’.” he’s unimpressed with your revelation, lets you go, and spares a brisk, disinterested glance at the mutated cow.

You dust off his crude gesture and smooth out your dress and backpack. His barbarian tactics are slowly losing their charm; he makes a mental note to up the ante in the future.

“How does it work though. With two heads?”

“Take one good look a’ me ‘n tell me if I’m a fuckin’ vet.” his arms are crossed over his chest, weight rested on one hip. You disregard his snappiness as your eyes roll from him back to the brahmin.

“Do they bite?” you know it’s probably a herbivore, but considering its disfigured state and the scarce vegetation along your journey, you have reason to consider other possibilities. With a palm placed on your waist, you tap a forefinger against your hipbone in thought. “Can I pet it?”

“No. Now move.” he grips your upper arm like a disgruntled father and drags you forward as you keep your neck craned to the side to stare at the cow over your shoulder. “Ain’t got all day.”

“But – ”

“ – You stray more than two feet away ‘n I’m puttin’ a leash on ya.” he hisses you into silence and presses onward, towards the last few remaining stands.

The thickness of the crowd lightens as you approach the end of the market. Once you manage to escape all the fuss and buzz you give a gentle pat to his wrist and he releases you with a warning grunt to keep close.

Given more room to note the architecture and structure of Tillburry, it reminds you of an old cowboy settlement rather than a pre-apocalypse town. The buildings are raised in such a peculiar array, all random and each one different. There are no traditional houses, per se, everything is turned into a business, from a shady hospital to a loud bar made guest house because even travelers need a bed sometimes. You see a few tire-ridden trailers, but even they have a makeshift sign plastered on the door offering services for caps.

A label scribbled with coal rests above the entrance to a two-story shack.

Trade & Barter – If it exists, we have them!

Mm…Maybe you could become the local English teacher, give the folk a few grammar lessons, put that multi-subject dossier in your head to the test. Make theory into reality and try your hand at machinery, build a lamp or do some testing and create a water purifier. From what you’ve read, it’s not that difficult, but the materials needed can range from tricky to impossible to scavenge.

You step onto the wooden porch of the trader’s shack, the bell above the door springs to life when the ghoul enters and you follow suit.

First things first, you had to figure out if you were going to continue travelling with him or if he was going to keep his word and let you settle here. There was a small chance he’d forgotten and if you didn’t mention it, he’d let you trudge along. Tillburry was a nice place, but you’d choose him over anything else if you had to pick.

“Evening good people!” a scrawny old man peaks from behind the counter accompanied by a symphony of metal clanks and a few curses. He dusts off his hands and plants them over the register with a crooked smile. “Mah name’s Hank. Now how can I help you lot?”

He eyes the ghoul in an odd manner, then you.

“Oh, it’s you…”

“Got another deposit t’ make, old man.” said ghoul slaps all five Pip-boys on the counter and rests on one of his elbows as he leans down. “Thousand caps up front, the rest every few months till you pay em in full.”

You have to squint when Hank’s eyes bulge out of his skull and he hastily stuffs the merchandise under his desk.

“You tryin’na get me robbed?!” he straightens to look over the windows then hunches down and continues with a hand cupped over the side of his mouth. “Where did you find so many?” he pauses then, a certain grimness to his face. “Never mind, don’t wanna know.”

Your vision is overflowing with all the junk strewn about, hanging off walls, stuffed in dusty display cases, over tables and windowsills, there’s items even on the floor. Most of it is weaponry and repair parts, a trinket here and there, a greasy comb, gold teeth, and a half-built robot of some sort. You lightly kick at a stray margarine cap abandoned on the floor, then stop when an elbow is roughly dug into your side.

You spare your assailant a bitter glare while tenderly massaging away the pain, then click your tongue but relent at the curt “behave” you’re tossed back.

The trader has the light strapped to his forehead shining down on the Pip-boys. He fiddles with each one briefly, turning the cog and testing the menus, then tries them all on his wrist to check the security of the straps. He’s humming, muttering something incoherent while evaluating the treasures from your vault.

“We doin’ business or not, Grandpa? They ain’t fucken’ fake.”

“I might be old, but I’m still a babe compared to you.” Hank spits back with surprising vigor and disappears under the counter. “Now have an ounce of patience you grumpy bastard. Gotta check em or else Imma be the one dealing with the consequences.”

“Sorry?” your attention darts back to the ghoul who’s suddenly avoiding eye contact. “How old did you say you were, Mister?”

“Ain’t you got junk t’ stare at?”

The remainder of his reply is cut short by a snort of a laugh erupting from behind the register.

“Oh, he’s ancient that one.” the trader resurfaces with an old plastic bag stuffed to the brim with caps, he ties it neatly and pushes it forward. “Been around since – ” he sputters, frozen solid as the edge of a hunting knife is pressed flush against the collar of his shirt. “Right…” he swallows once, then gently steers the blade away with the tips of his fingers. “Ain’t my story to tell, sorry Lil miss.”

“Sure ain’t.” the ghoul nods, lower lip slanted.

“Uhm…can I – ” you pipe in and set your backpack between the two before blood is spilled. “ – Can I trade too?”

“Sure you can.” Hank nudges towards you, hands clasped together and stubby fingers intertwined in silent anticipation for your upcoming offer. “Watchu trading?”

You’re rummaging through supplies, pushing away food cans and bottles of water until you reach the very bottom of the bag. You grip a thin, plastic wrapper and force it past the sea of provisions before showing your open palm to the trader.

“Is this worth anything?”

“Well, well.” he snatches the item and settles the glasses dangling from his neck on the bridge of his nose as he concentrates on the label. “Pristine condition too. You don’t see these around much anymore.”

“A toothbrush.” the gunslinger is scowling when you turn to look at him. “You brought a fuckin’ toothbrush?”

“Three actually. One for each of us and a spare in case I lost mine. Which reminds me!” you’re digging through the bag again briefly before plunging another packaged toothbrush into his face. “Here’s yours.”

He plucks the damn thing from your grasp while you keep up a sickly sweet smile, twirls it in his fingers and he would have been annoyed if he wasn’t already so thunderstruck.

“Why do you have to be like this…”

“Twenty-five caps.” the trader declares and stuffs the merchandise in his back pocket.

“Deal!” you exclaim and gather up the caps as soon as they’re set on the counter.

“Workin’ through your debt already, Sweetheart?”

You squint at the question and shuffle away from your interrogative companion. Your foot is already tapping incessantly against the floorboards, a dead giveaway.

“Yes?” you clear the lump in your throat and lift your nose towards a book hanging just above a display cabinet. “But also I wanted to buy – ”

“ – No.” short and stern, no wiggle room. “You ain’t wastin’ no caps on a damn book.”

“Why not? They’re my caps.” you ask, but are promptly ignored when he gives you a cold shoulder and turns back to Hank. You aren’t even graced with the courtesy of debate.

With a regretful look, you secure your backpack over your shoulder and give the tome a last, pained glance as you rub at your upper arm.

“Gimme five packs o’ Grey Tortoise too.”

Hank stacks the cigarette packs in the ghoul’s outstretched hand before leaning back with a nod, instigating the end of their trade.

“Good doing business, Cooper, now get the hell out before I go bankrupt.”

You snort before you realize it.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Your body freezes and you’re looking straight ahead as your teeth clamp down on your lips. The laughter bubbles, pushing against your chest and throat and you barely manage to inhale a shaky breath.

“There somethin’ funny, Smooth-skin?” the ghoul, Cooper, tantalizingly engulfs you under his frame. Each hand is gripping the counter, on either side of you, as he forces his chest into your shoulder blades and leans down until his voice is right in your ears. “Hm?”

“No.” you rasp, and your jaw clenches immediately after as your vision blurs with tears and you’re fighting so hard not to fucking cackle. You’re suppressing yourself so violently that you’re shaking. “No, Sir.”

His name is fucking Cooper. The deadly gunslinger, the boogeyman, the ruthless killer, the zombie cowboy. Cooper…

You can’t breathe.

“I’m gonna…Gonna wait outside, Sir.” you proclaim with a strained voice and slip out of his dangerous embrace, ducking under his armpit and heading towards the exit with stiff footing.

After securing the caps and cigarettes in his bandolier, he’s ready to follow, but a curt whistle from Hank stops him and he turns back to see the man waving him over. Already lacking patience for the upcoming exchange, he sighs and spares you a once-over to make sure you’re out of ear reach, and then he’s back at the counter, glaring.

“Go on.”

You shift to the left of the door, leaning back against the windowsill and leaving your backpack to rest between your feet. The world is slowly dimming, crickets deftly chip in the distance and it would have been pleasant if you hadn’t known they can grow as big as your arm. A few people pass by, scuttling towards either their homes or the bar opposite of where you stand. Besides a muffled murmur, there’s nothing you can catch from the conversation and curiosity gnaws at your gut, but you don’t have the courage to peek inside the shop and risk getting caught. A steady whizz as the minutes pass by, you don’t care for being left out, there’s already too much you’ve witnessed and endured that you wished you never had.

An abrupt rise in octaves catches your attention and your eyes flick to the side. Something in their exchange wasn’t going right, a topic was unraveled that was acrid for both parties and you curse at your limited hearing for being unable to catch any particular words.

A storm comes out the door that nearly knocks the bell off and startles you. You step back to avoid him in his blind fury, a distinct “oof” escaping you when the book is blindly thrust into your stomach. The sun has sunken, and an array of moths flutter around the swaying light bulb above the trader’s entrance and despite Cooper’s soured mood, you’re happy to have him back. Plus, he’d relented and gotten you the book, either he or the shopkeeper had pitied you enough to hand it over.

You’re dancing around him like a butterfly, the title “The Count of Monte Cristo” bouncing in and out of sight as you twirl the tome around.

The bar is well-lit, Christmas lights hang from the windows and roof, and he’s headed straight toward it. The atmosphere is unpleasant, whatever discussion he’d had with Hank had left a sour taste on his tongue, pinched some nerve that you could only guess.

“Thanks, Mister.” you try with a soft note and secure your present under your armpit for safekeeping, hoping a little sugarcoating might help ease his frustration. “I’ll cherish it forever.”

He pays you no mind, not even when you pinch the sleeve of his coat to keep in toon with his hasty stride.

“I like your name.” you peep through the mingling silence and glance up to find a strained expression and a sharp glare directed away from you. Your smile does nothing and falters quickly.

There’s a gap there, one that didn’t exist until you left him to converse in private with the old trader. The lingering question of whether you’re staying here or going with him is dismissed for the moment despite the time you have together ticking away. There’s malice building on his features the longer he stays locked away in his head and your words drift past him without effect.

“Mister?”

No response.

It’s when you wrap a hand around his wrist just as he’s about to burst into the bar that he stops.

You release a breath and ignore your skittish nature yanking at you to run, or apologize and hope for the best. There’s a clog in your throat and you feel the air becoming harder to intake, but that doesn’t stop you.

“Whatever he said isn’t true.” your eyes search the display of shells fitted over his chest, then flick up to find his. “You’re not a bad man, Cooper.”

It’s a shot in the dark because you don’t know what was said or done. But this is better than leaving him to sulk. He gets to know that you’ll stick by him no matter what happens. You��ll be there, even if the whole world turns against him, he’ll have someone who will stand by him.

“I’m a rotten man, Sweet pea.” his gaze is steady as he replies. He doesn’t believe you and not because you’re naively spewing words of comfort, but because he’s seen a lot more than you. He remembers the things he’s done and will keep doing and he knows himself well and you’re just plain wrong. “You jus’ don’ know it yet.”

“You’re a survivor.” you repost, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “And we’re all a little rotten inside.”

He rests a hand on your head, then moves to slump an arm around your shoulders and puffs out a breath. He’s not up for such a conversation, not now, not with you.

You don’t know him, not really. You don’t know that his vials are running dangerously low while your presence is turning into a solid option to get more. There’s a good reason he’s kept you safe and barely scathed and it’s not a measly three hundred caps.

And you hadn’t done anything to deserve such a fate, but his life came before yours, a rule of survival that you’d never learn.

Hank had had his suspicions the moment he’d laid eyes on you, but it wasn’t his business and despite having grown soft from decades living in a settlement, he had no right to dictate how others survived in the wasteland.

It might be cruel to keep you in the dark while your life is being weighed by a constantly shifting scale, but the ghoul would rather you enjoy the time you have left. Maybe they’d be kind and sedate you before harvesting your organs and you’d remember him as the hero he wasn’t, or maybe you’d grow a brain and stay in Tillburry. At least now he has the caps to buy off two large whiskey bottles and wash away the image of your face when struck with betrayal.

He was a survivor, you’d said so yourself, he did what he had to do, but that stupid conversation and Hank’s stupid expression wouldn’t budge from the back of his eyelids.

“What’re you gonna do if she doesn’t stay here though?”

“There’s always Super Duper Mart.”

“Oh, by the way.” your voice is a spark in the void of hopelessness, ripping him out of the maze of thoughts he’d unwittingly fallen into. He leads you through a haze of clinking tankards and lively, drunken chatter, a heavy smog of cigarette smoke that makes your nose wrinkle, and dim lighting to hide people’s identities. But you’re just happy to be with him and it’s visible by the perky smile on your lips. It’s painful to look at. “My name is – ”

“ – Don’t.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 7 >>>

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatereality @gruffle1

@v3lv3tf0x

@fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckrichard

@rockst4rkitty @lisnamavka @Iomlbillieeilish @itsyellow @cloudroomblog

@skykaykay @i-just-like-to-read @landlockedmermaid77 @enaelyork @maeplaysbass

#cooper howard #fallout tv series #the ghoul fallout #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #x reader #fallout x reader #fallout x you

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thebestsetter · 22 days

Text

The emperor's bad luck

An: This is actually my first fic! Also, english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes! I just read Kaiser's backstory and got really sad. HE'S JUST A BABY 😭😭

Michael Kaiser has never been a lucky guy. And I'm not talking about that kind of luck of finding a penny on the floor or getting a question right even though you don't know the answer. I'm talking about a luck that is harder to be found nowadays: the luck to be born with a great family, with loving parents and awesome siblings. The kind of family that you see on magazine covers or billboards, smiling and having fun together, looking like they've never had a bad time.

His mother left him when he was just a baby. A Hollywood actress who has probably already acted as a mother in a movie, although not in real life with her own son: ironic, isn't it? She looked like an angel, with pretty blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, but her looks didn't reflect her personality: a cunning and clever woman.

So, she came up with a plan to make her fame grow: she laid down with a movie director. After she became more famous, she left the man all alone. Well, maybe not ALL alone. She left him with their son: Michael Kaiser. But the man didn't appreciate it and often abused Kaiser. For every mistake Michael made, he hit and tortured the poor boy. When Kaiser was barely 8, his father started sending him to the streets to steal food and other things, since the man couldn't really work because he began drinking (he also didn't want to work, and sending his kid to steal things was a lot easier).

- Now go, Kaiser! - the man said while waving a broken beer bottle in the air - and don't come back without that milk you forgot last time, or else I won't be as gentle with your punishment.

Michael grabbed the backpack his father handed him and ran out of his "home", not wanting to spend another second with that man.

"They found out I stole from that shop" Kaiser thought while looking at the shop he stole from the last time he went on his 'robbery spree' "so I have to find another one".

He then began walking across the neighbourhood trying to find somewhere to steal from. The blond boy came across a new shop he had never seen before: it was a small shop with red colored walls. The german child decided that was the one he was going to rob. Passing his small hands through the shelves full of things he couldn't even think of buying, Kaiser shoved the important things down his bag, such as eggs, butter and other things. He then came across the dairy session. Reaching for the milk, Michael quickly grabbed it and hid it into his bag, wanting to get out of there before he got caught, when suddenly he heard a gasp coming from behind him.

- Are you stealing milk? - a (h/c)nette girl said, startling Kaiser and causing him to drop the bag from his hands, making all the items of his backpack spread across the floor. Scared, he began to pick his things and stuff them back on the bag - hey, what are you doing? COME BACK HERE!

The girl began to chase him around the store while begging him to stop running. After some time, she finally caught up with him.

- I-I'm sorry - he said, panting - p-please don't turn me in! I need to steal to s-survive. My father doesn't work and my mother left me with him. I'm sorry, but I need this things!

- Don't worry, I won't report you! - she said, smiling - my father is the owner of the shop. I can give you some cookies and snacks to go and won't turn you in, but with one condition: you need to answer the question I wanted to ask you when I saw you stealing the milk.

- O-okay - he said in a calmer tone - what is it?

- Do you wanna be my friend? - she asked, her toothy grin appearing and almost blinding Kaiser because of how big and bright it was

- W-what? - he asked, making the girl repeat herself - sure, I guess…

- GREAT! You're my friend now! Come on, I'm gonna give you something to eat.

The girl gave Michael some snacks (without her father seeing them, of course) from that shelves that had things he thought he'd never get to eat and went to the door of the store to say goodbye to him.

- Bye hm… - she began, then gasped - You're my friend, but I don't know your name!

- I'm Michael Kaiser - he said, clearly a lot more confident around the girl, but still a little weary

- I'm (Name) (Last name) - she smiled, glad that she made a new friend - bye, Michael! Come here tomorrow again so we can play!

- (NAME)! COME HELP ME OUT IN THE SHOP! - they heard her father yell

- COMING - the girl shouted and waved goodbye to Kaiser for the last time before disappearing inside her family's shop.

Althought Kaiser was a guy that didn't have a great luck, he considered himself lucky for finding her: his first friend ever since he was born. And for the first time in a few years, Kaiser went to sleep with a full stomach and a happy mind, with a new found hope in his soul: a hope for a better future, with friends like (Name) (or maybe even her, if his luck suddenly decided to change) at his side.

#bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #michael kaiser #bllk fluff #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #kaiser x reader #Ihatekaisersparents #blue lock #bllk manga #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #Blue lock

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lovingseventeen · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Hope you are doing well!!

I absolutely love your account.

I was wondering whether you could write a scenario with svt where the boys realize they are in love.

svt realizing they’re in love ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

a/n: hi! and thank you for this request! i’m so so sorry this took so long for me to get out. i always had this in the back of my mind and i’ve been thinking about so many scenarios for the boys.. i hope it’s better late than never.. also SORRy this is a day later than i promised, school got in the way

also trying a slightly different format because the bullet points occasionally make the posts so long.. BUT ALSO ALSO: thank you for 800!!

(established relationships unless stated otherwise)

seungcheol:

he knew he liked you for the longest time, but love was another word that was so big, so strong, it intimidated him to even think of it. but he knew when he realized he was always looking for you

he was driving home and everything he passed by, his thoughts connected them to you a bakery? y/n’s birthday is coming up, i should surprised them with a cake. a billboard for a new movie? would y/n want to go see that? the trailer looked good.. a park? is that the same one we went to when y/n made that bento? even a convenience store: y/n better not be eating ramen again..

jeonghan:

it's when he sees that you don't fall so easily for his pranks. he knows you're on the same wavelength as him, truly his other half.

you're at the airport about to take your first trip together. "baby i forgot our passports at home" he suddenly tells you, pretending to rummage through his backpack.

you look back at him with a half smile, "no you didn't, you're just being silly. c'mon we have to start checking in now." he's smiling back at you even if his little prank didn't work. as he follows you from behind, he feels a little shift in his feelings for you. ah, is this what they mean about love? he wonders.

joshua:

it's when the two of you are in the car and you're singing (half-yelling). he's humming along to parts that he recognizes as he drives, but not without stealing glances to see you passionately belt out every single word.

it's at a red light that he looks over to you and at the same time, you're enthusiastically bumping along to the rhythm in your seat. you point to him as you sing along to some cheesy lyric about being in love except to him, it's not cheesy at all. instead, he feels his heart skip a beat when he realizes he loves you.

jun:

it's so simple, really. this one time, he makes this opera voice to you as he laid out options for dinner.

"so we can order from our usual or try that new place nearby that just opened up~~" he asked, trilling his voice in random places dramatically.

you think out loud, humming, but then replying in the same silly manner as you choose. "i think we can try the new place~~" you sing back, making your voice two octaves lower. you're both laughing after but his smile feels a little deeper to him and he wonders if this feeling is what he thinks it is.

hoshi:

hoshi has never run from his feelings, he's always embraced them.

it's when he picks you up for a date and sees the skip in your step to greet him. you fall into his arms for your usual hug but with a little more accidental momentum.

he laughs as he catches you, "hi pretty" he smiles. your arms are wrapped around his middle and your face is so close to his as you're smiling back at him just as big. this is when he knows. "i love you, you know" he declares, kissing your cheek.

wonwoo:

one night where he can’t sleep, he figured he really needs to hear your voice. he accidentally disregards the time, not realizing he’s been awake for so long and that it’s three am. you pick up your phone after couple rings (it took you a moment to wake up).

“hello?” you asked, voice muddled with sleep. he can't help but feel some kind of relief, some kind of comfort so specific to you.

“i just wanted to hear your voice."

"right now?" you can't help but ask. this is where he checks his phone and realizes how late it actually is.

"oh, i'm sorry" he almost whispers.

"is everything okay?" your concern warmed him.

"yeah, yeah, everything's fine," he assures you, almost whispering those three words so late into the night. "go back to sleep, love." he's never really used that pet name, but he figures it'll have to do for now.

woozi:

it hits him where he spends the most time: his studio. the last two weeks or so he hasn't been able to see you and he's been starting to feel bad. he tries to text you when he can, but he still replies hours later or not at all. somehow, his schedule was arranged down to the hour.

yet you managed to drop off food for him at the hybe building occasionally, brightening his day even a little bit. he was always in the middle of something else, whether it be a dance practice, a going seventeen shoot, a photoshoot, recording, or producing. so it was always a manager or an assistant taking the food from you to bring up to him.

when jihoon finally gets a day off, he's almost rushing to see you. he almost expects you to look unexcited, or even mad, but he's surprised to see you simply happy. he takes you out to lunch and as you wait for your meal, he blurts out what he feels is a necessary apology.

"sorry for what?" you looked back at him, puzzled.

he's caught off guard at your confusion. "um, for not really being around the last two weeks," a nervous hand comes up behind his head, "i feel like i didn't reach out enough."

you take his hand, "weren't you just working? it's a busy time right now, isn't it?"

"well yeah, but still-"

"baby i wouldn't have agreed to dating you if i would have a problem with your schedule," you assured him, "as long as we're still trying with each other, we'll be fine."

"i still feel bad," he sighs, taking your hand in both of his.

"baby, i wouldn't want you to worry about us on top of all of your responsibilities," you tell him. "i'm really okay, honestly, and if anything ever comes up, i'll promise to talk to you."

he sees the genuine look of understanding from your eyes as you sit across from him. he feels his heart hammering in his chest and it's like he's been brought to the months where we was just falling for you. but this time, it's much grander and he knows it's love.

dokyeom:

he knew he was in love the first time he made you laugh. he's probably the one member who would realize it before you were officially dating.

you held onto his arm as you laughed, shaking your head as his antics and this is when he knew. you looked at him with the warmest smile and he was already falling.

far into the future people will ask him when he knew you were the one and he'll be the kind to remember all the details of this encounter: the hoodie that you were wearing, how your hair looked, the joke he was telling, etc.

mingyu:

so you took him to one of those sip and paint cafes so the two of you could have pottery in your home with a personal touch. mingyu is also quite artistic so it would be fun. everything is going smoothly until his large hands accidentally knock over the water cup meant for rinsing your paintbrushes. then as he's trying to quickly clean up, the paintbrush that he set down accidentally touches his mug, ruining his image.

he's whining after ruining his piece, but you assure him that it's still fine. you laugh a little, encouraging that he can probably try to fix it. but, even with an attempt to correct his mistake, the little puppy that he painted is still awkward-looking.

he feels like you're just trying to comfort him when you tell him that you actually adore it. after your pieces are fired, and you're allowed to bring them home, he sees you use his mug. he sees you continue to use his mug with his painting on it weeks after too.

one day you're sipping from it and glancing at the slightly chubby puppy on its front. you smile at it fondly as you hold the cup, "i really love this, you know," you chuckle, finger tracing the puppy's cheeks.

he almost has to stop himself from blurting out, "well i love you." when he catches that thought, he realizes.

minghao:

hao realized he was in love when you went to travel to another country for a week. you sent him pictures from museums you visited of artwork you thought he would appreciate. you sent him food you ordered at a local restaurant, texting him: i'll bring you here one day because you'd like this! or we're coming back to this.

when you finally return form your trip, he helps you unpack and settle back in. however, what you're excited for is showing him everything you brought back for him.

"so i got you a couple things."

one of his hands is coming up to pat your head lovingly, "you didn't have to but thank you." he sits across you as you eagerly open up your suitcase and begin you little haul.

"so i got you this top at this local store there because the mesh has this slightly distressed feeling and you usually look good in these."

"then there were these little pins that i thought would be cute if we had matching ones."

"oh! there's this ring i found at a flea market and it reminded me of your usual jewelry!"

"and the last thing was.. drumroll please," you request and he starts patting his thighs to oblige, "some tea i thought you might want to try."

he's smiling as he picks up and examines the items you got him. when he notices you looking at him expectedly, asking him, "so what do you think?"

he knows it and he can't hold back, "i think i love you."

seungkwan:

he knows it when you tease him and he can't even find it in himself to get annoyed. you two probably have a series on ongoing jokes that neither of you can count.

where he'd usually get annoyed or whiny if one of his members teased him, he can't help but just look at you with adoration and you tease him with that smile. you're lightly teasing him, even bringing your face up close to his and all he can think of is kissing you.

"you're lucky i can't get mad at you," he rolls his eyes.

"you love me," you replies casually, not giving it much thought as you walk away from him.

"yeah maybe i do" he replies in a voice so low you don't hear him.

vernon:

sometimes you'd ask him if he wanted to do something random. so far you've made him watch that very weird indie movie, various weird food trends, and even pole dancing (he genuinely gave it his best effort). you'd ask him if he wanted to go with you on these mini adventures and no matter how weird, he'd usually say yes.

so one day, you ask him if he wants to try this new viral ice cream dessert that's been trending. even though some of these ventures have gotten you both to try underwhelming food, he still says sure.

as you're sitting in the shop, he watches you look at the donut and ice cream monstrosity in anticipation. "ok here i go," you announce, making sure to get a little bit of everything to get that 'perfect bite.'

"how is it?" he asks you, only to smile when your eyes light up. so it's a good food adventure day.

"oh my gosh, i think i just found my new favorite thing ever" you mumble with the ice cream in your mouth.

he watches as you push the dessert towards him, encouraging him to try it too. while he thinks that it's just a fine dessert, he could feel full watching you eat. ultimately, he feels happy that you're happy, and this is where he realizes.

dino:

in recent days his schedule had been so packed that he could barely see you, even more so since they had a comeback.

of course, he can't let his slight burn out show while he performs, but he can't ignore the weight on his heart. but still, he puts his best foot forward and gets up on stage.

what he isn't ready for is seeing you in the front of the crowd with a headband with his name on his. you've even come with one of those fans with his face on it.

the fans start cheering as they get in formation for the song and he feels recharged knowing you're in the audience. their song opens and he glances at you and sees that you're even participating in the fanchant. he knows his name is last and looks at you as you scream his name the loudest, giving him a wink too.

he feels alive and comforted. his new energy makes the song fly by without mistake and soon enough someone is already giving the camera their ending fairy. his eyes find you again and sees you blow him a kiss that makes his heart swell :')

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

Note

Yandere baki, Jack, katsumi, and maybe pickle with a reader who’s not interested in men and wants to be single?????

Yandere Baki Head Canons

Afab reader who isn’t interested in men

All characters are aged up

Minors DNI

Noncon (pickle), dubcon, and uncomfortable themes

Baki Hanma

Is confused on why you’re not interested in dating him. You won’t even acknowledge him and his confession. What do you mean you’re wanting to explore the world alone?

You’re a traveler who Baki thought was super pretty. A backpacker of sorts. He doesn’t understand why you want to travel the world alone so young. Don’t you know the world is dangerous?

He’s endless in his pursuit of you. He asks you out constantly until you do accept. You two go out for a drinks and it all falls apart then

It’s a mistake on your part to let him into your bed after one too many drinks. The broken bed frame was evidence of what you had done. Not to mention all the love marks on your neck. What happened?

You’re so confused when Baki informs you that you two were now in a relationship. That you accepted him since you two had sex. You try to tell him you don’t remember what had happened that night but he crawls on top of you and tells you, “then we’ll have a replay of last night.”

The man is a sex god. You’re moaning and screaming and he’s smiling into every kiss. Doesn’t he make you feel great? Why would you want to leave Japan when you can be here with him and feel such pleasure? You can be so safe in his arms

Baki presses a kiss to your forehead and tells you this is your home now. The two of you can travel together. You’re too exhausted to even try to fight him

Jack Hanma

You two were friends with benefits and he’s the one who fell in love. You both found each other on an app for hookups and you two came to an agreement of no strings attached. But Jack loved being inside of you more and more… you were the only one able to handle him. And you gave him a key to your place for heaven’s sake. How could you not like him? He made you come undone in seconds over and over. You told him no one has ever satisfied you like he has

You start to notice how he’s gentler in the bedroom and how he’s pressing kisses all over your body instead of bite marks. How his hands gripped your skin like a lifeline instead of like a flesh light. How he would stay in the morning to hold you and how he would make you breakfast. How he would whisper about how you were his… it was starting to scare you

Your toes are curled and you back is arched as he’s so deep inside of you. You didn’t even think it was possible for someone to reach so deeply in you but all you could ever feel was Jack whenever you two got into it. How good he made you feel. How full you were..

After the deed is done, you inform him that you do not desire a relationship of any kind with him. That’s when he tells you he’s in love with you. That you’re always on his mind and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He wants a life with you

It’s then that you start to feel morning sickness. Jack holds your hair back with a smile. That’s when he admits he threw out your birth control. That he was afraid of your rejection of his love for you

You start to cry but Jack kisses your head. You’re going to be stuck with him for life

Orochi Katsumi

Now you used to have feelings for him. You used to pursue him and you’d watch him train everyday and even be at all of his tournaments… he never reciprocated your feelings because he was young and stupid. It was when you finally gave up that he began to pursue you

He missed you cheering for him, writing him sweet notes, the warm homemade meals, and always smiling at him. You ignored every man for him and he so coldly rejected all of your advances for years but now your face is on every billboard in Japan. You became a famous singer and it consumes him in guilt

You ignore him now. You inform the world how you decided to give up on love and how you were going to enjoy the single life to the fullest. Katsumi pursues you now but you don’t beat around the bush. You coldly reject him. You throw his flowers back at him, you rip up his notes, and you throw all of his invitations to his tournaments in the trash in front of him. You inform him you want nothing to do with him anymore

He breaks into your house to see you. He beat up your security guards just so he can hold you. He doesn’t care that you’re kicking and screaming. Don’t you see how perfectly you fit in his arms?

He doesn’t listen to your pleas to stop. He’s pressing his body against yours on your mattress. You’ll want this… you still love him. He knows you do

He cries when he’s inside of you for the first time. The blood dripping from between your legs makes him so happy that you saved yourself for him. He’s kissing away all your tears as he continues thrusting into you. He loves you so much. He’ll never mistreat you again. He goes for several rounds with you that night until he’s sure his seed takes

He’s so happy you accept his marriage proposal. Your childhood love for him has now turned into fear but his heart was completely aflame for yours. He was so happy to take this next step in life with you, the one you always wanted with him! He just doesn’t understand why you don’t smile at him anymore… he can change that

Pickle

He doesn’t understand anything. He’s a caveman who just understands that he wants to breed you

He might try to court you with dead animals and bring you back strange gifts. Probably things he’s stolen

It won’t be long for him to just take what he wants. He doesn’t care that you scream at him. If Pickle wants you and he’ll have you

#baki hanma #baki the grappler #baki x reader #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere fic #baki son of ogre #female reader #kaoru hanayama #jack hanma #Baki #yandere baki #baki dou #baki the grappler x reader #grappler baki #baki kaoru hanayama #baki headcanons #katsumi orochi #pickle baki

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gglitch1dd · 1 year

Note

Ochako do be the kind of person to leak izukus gf address to the paps just to stir up trouble 💀

SHE WOULD!!!

Like Ochaco is petty and the moment that Izuku found you was an instant no-no in her book. I mean she tried to ignore it. She was a great friend and kept quiet and tried supporting the both of you and being the good supportive friend that she was but the both of you were EVERYWHERE.

You were on billboards, morning shows, Night shows, tabloids, parties, galas, dinners. EVERYWHERE SHE LOOKED, There was something about how you and Izuku were so in love. How Izuku would look at you with practical hearts in his eyes even when you weren't looking at him.

Frankly it was annoying to her. So a little anonymous hit to the paparazzi might just scare you away.

Unbeknownst to her...

"Izuku..."

"Hm?" Midoriya turned to look at you from where he sat in the kitchen typing away at his laptop. Even though his eyes were on the screen in front of him, the moment your voice rang out saying his name, you had his attention instantly.

You sighed as you poured him a cup of coffee. "She leaked our address." You stated as your phone buzzed on the counter from security notifying you of the people in the lobby of your apartment building.

"Hm... took her long enough." Midoriya picked up the cup of coffee you laid for him automatically, the All Might mug looking almost dwarfed in his large hands. He lifted it up to his lips and took a sip. He let out a smile with a hum at the warm coffee. he turned to look at you as you walked up to stand next to him, leaning on his shoulder. He smiled. "Good thing we packed up and sent our stuff to our new place. You're so smart babe."

You chuckled and placed a kiss on his nose, as you held your own cup of coffee. "Not like you Mr Number One hero." You teased. A whine came from Izuku, a soft pink lipped pout making its way to his lips. You chuckled and gave him what he wanted. A sweet kiss to the lips. he moved one arm to wrap an arm around you and pull you in. You chuckled at his neediness as you leaned out of his grasp.

His green eyes were sparkling as they looked up at you. "Damn... how did I get so lucky?" His eyes looked you up and down.

You shrugged with a hum. "Looks like you've been good in your last life, Zuzu." You tapped his nose. "Now switch off your laptop and lets get out of here before they shove their way up here." You moved to grabbed your backpack from the chair next to him.

Midoriya sighed. "Why can't I fly us there?"

"Cause I don't trust your flying, not after the Tokyo incident."

"That was a mistake!"

"One that will never happen again."

-Glitch1d

#midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku fluff #deku x reader #deku x y/n #deku fluff #midoriya x reader #midoriya x you

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strangethlngs · 2 years

Text

"If I get to live a million other lives, I hope I get to love you in all of them.” Eddie Munson fix-it fic.

(gif not mine, credit to dunadain)

Pairing: Eddie x female!reader

Summary: A quickly, sloppily written angsty + fluffy fix-it fic I cranked out in one sitting because this is my therapy in a post st4 vol2 world. This was written quickly and quickly proofread by a very tired me, so definitely not my best work but something I just wanted to get out in the open for everyone! Enjoy.

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, gore, drinking, basically, everything from e9 except Eddie lives, suggestive dialogue but ultimately sfw. And obviously, spoilers ahead.

A/N: My first published fic! I hope u enjoy it, it’s not what my best work looks like (I’m working on a long ass AU fic that will be impeccably written and proofread don’t you worry), but, like I said, my brain just wanted me to get this idea out of my system, so here you go! Please be kind!

Word count: Almost 3k

"Let’s hope this works” Dustin mutters as he plugs in the extension cord to the amplifiers. You teeter over the chord, trying to maintain your balance atop the tin roof of Eddie's trailer. The trailer that held memories of some of your brightest memories with the long-haired dungeon master standing in front of you. You take in the sight in front of you, the world slowing down for a millisecond. bright red lightning crackled in the distance. Dustin’s hard breathing. Eddie’s warm brown eyes trained on you and only you. Upside-down flurries landing in the curls of his frizzy hair. Guitar slung lazily over the front of his torso. You remembered back to the first time you’d met him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You had just moved to Hawkins for your freshman year of high school, thanks to your parents moving for work. That first day at school, you’d taken your lunch to the bathroom, too nervous to eat at a table alone. It was on the billboard by the restroom door you had seen a poster for a local band playing at a bar close to your house that night. Back in your old city, you’d loved to go see live music. As you sat in the stall, you grasped for your backpack, digging out your wallet. There it was. staring back at you was the face of your freshly 21-year-old sister, her old id hiding in the back flaps.

You arrived that night to the venue that night, breezing past the bouncer and heading straight to the bar. You didn’t mind being alone here, because at least here you didn’t feel like the targeted new kid like you did in the cafeteria. Oh, how you were so wrong; because, as you waited for the bartender to pour your beer, you heard a voice come from beside you.

“You’re the new girl in my algebra class.”

You whipped your head beside you. The smell of weed and jack burned your nostrils. In front of you was a cheeky, long-hair brunette boy. And even in the dark ambient lighting of the bar, you could see his big, beautiful kind brown eyes. Oh my god, he was cute. In an attempt to stumble out a response, you just huffed out a “yeah” and handed the bartender some cash, swapping it with your beer.

"As part of the new-kid-Hawkins-high-experience, I was planning on asking you to sit at my lunch table, but you seemed to disappear in the few moments between algebra and lunch period,” he pressed on while you sipped, determined to talk to you for some reason.

“Oh yeah, I, um,” you stammered. You took in his full appearance now. He had a black tee with a flannel and leather jacket, black pants donning a chain, and white reebok shoes. On his fingers were a range of rings of different shapes and sizes. His ringed fingers wrapped around what you assumed was a jack and coke but was mostly gone.

“I promise sitting at our table is better than eating alone in the bathroom. Trust me, been there, done that...” he smiled, turning to stick his free hand out to you. “I’m Eddie.”

You told him your name and shook his hand, the cold from the rings shocking your skin. You chatted with small talk back and forth for a while. You told him your love for live music and excitement to see the band, and he told you about the DND club he loved. Hell, what did it hurt to befriend someone cute on one of your first days in a new town? He downed the rest of his drink before bowing to you.

“Well, I would love to chat with you for longer, but I do have duties to fulfill. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?” he smiled, holding out his hand. Unsurely, you put your hand into his and he places a chaste kiss on it. The alcohol in your system bubbled a giggle in response.

“Tomorrow,” you bid him farewell. And then, to your absolute horror, he climbed the steps to the stage followed by a few other guys. He went up to the center microphone, slung a guitar over his head, and gave a smile directly to you before yelling his band name and playing the opening riffs to a metal song you didn’t recognize.

And the rest was history.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And at this moment, you saw that same boy. The same young boy with kind eyes staring at you from across the roof of the trailer. Suddenly you’re filled with fear at the gravity of what you’re actually doing. So many things could go wrong. You’re literally setting yourself up as bait. You can’t lose him. You can’t.

Your arms and legs move faster than your brain as you trek over to Eddie, hands reaching out for his face and planting a kiss onto his perfectly ready lips. His guitar bumps against your front and you pull away, foreheads touching.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I just had to tell you before.”

Before he has a chance to respond, you back away next to Dustin, your hand reaching out to crank up the volume on the amp. Eddie’s eyes meet yours in the last moment of silence. His voice breaks it as he reaches up to his guitar pick on the chain around his neck and he mutters your name as he rips it off, eyes trained on yours.

“This is for you.”

And then it all starts. the guitar riff to the Metallica song you knew all too well, because, well, Eddie was obsessed with it. You liked it too because it reminded you of how talented he was. He shreds the guitar as you watch. If this was any other situation, you would have a heat building between your legs at the sight in front of you, but considering the compromising nature of what was happening at the moment, you focused on the sound of the bats swarming closer. As the epic guitar solo comes to an end, you stumble off of the roof and into the trailer, choking out a sob of relief once you realize you’re safe.

The first thing Eddie does after his cheering moment with Dustin is kiss you again, hard and passionately as if he didn’t just kiss you minutes ago.

“See, all worked out,” he cups your cheeks and your smile. Then, your smile fades as the bats ram against the roof.

“Eddie, the vents!” you realize. Eddie mutters a ‘shit’ and rams his trash can lid weapon to the vent in the living room and you run, ramming yours into the one above his bed. But you’re too late. A bat narrowly escapes your attempt and latches onto your shoulder, knocking you off of the bed and onto the hard floor.

You’re sure your arm is broken somewhere from the shooting pain paired with the pain of the bat gnawing on your flesh. You scream and Eddie quickly appears into your vision, beating the hell out of the damn thing. It finally dies and Eddie kneels down to you.

Eddie sits you up, blood gushing from the wound on your shoulder.

“Oh, god, you’re okay, you’re okay” he coos. “Henderson” he yells and Dustin appears in the door frame, gasping out your name.

“I’m fine...” you attempt to get up, dizziness taking over you. “Woah-” you blink slowly, fighting the dizziness caused by the amount of blood dripping down your shirt.

“We gotta get her through the gate, out of here,” Eddie rapidly fires, and in your hazy state, you can tell he’s holding back tears. He grabs for a shirt of his nearby and holds it to your oozing wound.

Your vision continues to blur. How were you losing this much blood? The world spun fast around you as Eddie walked you to the gate. Eddie....

“Eddie” you murmur out. Eddie looks at you, holding you up in his arms.

“I’m right here baby, right here. Now I need you to be strong and get yourself up that rope.” he manages to say, no tears spilling from his clearly-watering eyes. You muster up the strength you have and somehow manage to get to the other side of the gate. Dustin follows, coming to your side immediately to check on you. you gaze up at the gate and see Eddie staring back at you.

“Eddie...” you start, suspicious of him. And before you know it, there he is, cutting off the cloth rope between the two dimensions. Dustin starts to scream. You become numb with shock. Tears prickle your eyes.

“Get her to a hospital, Henderson. Make sure she’s safe.”

And then he’s gone. In one fluid motion, tears bursting down your cheeks, you saunter over to a chair in the corner, pulling it to the gate.

“Dustin, I don’t care what you say, I’m going in there whether you want me to or not. So you can either help me or not. But I’m going” you manage to get out.

He nods in agreement and you get yourself on the chair, using your good arm to pull yourself up. Dustin helps with your feet the best he can, and by some miracle in the universe, you land on your back on the floor of the trailer in the upside-down, crying out in agony.

You don’t even wait for Dustin to come through before you’re scrounging up all the strength you have to run sloppily out of the door, hand pressed to your shirt-covered wound, blood already soaked through it.

You see him. He’s there, weapons up and at the ready, fighting the swarm the best he can. A scream gets choked in your throat as you run in his direction. When Eddie falls to the ground, that's when the yell building up inside you finally comes out, taking most of your strength with it. It’s a mix between his name and the word ‘no’, but it’s loud enough to get some of the bats flying in your direction.

But then they all... fall. All at once. No bats even reach you before they’re dead and unmoving on the ground. But that doesn’t matter to you.

“Eddie!” you scream again, weaker than before. you hear Dustin's yells distantly behind you.

When you reach him, your knees buckle at the sight of him. He’s bloody. Really bloody. It covers his torso and hands, even his face.

“No, no no no” you shake your head. “Eddie no you can’t,” you start, fully sobbing now, tears mixing with his blood. “You can’t leave me.”

“I didn’t run away this time,” he choked. His voice gurgled. Blood splattered from his mouth to his teeth.

“No, Eds, you didn’t.”

He manages a smile the best he can, and even with the blood covering parts of his face and teeth, he’s still the most beautiful boy you have ever laid your eyes on.

“You’re so beautiful,” you coo to him, brushing his hair with your shaky, bloody fingers.

“N- not more... b- beautiful than you” he chokes, shaky hand reaching to yours that was on his chest. Dustin finally arrives and falls next to you.

“I love you” he musters.

“Stop that,” you manage through tears, shaking your head at him. “You’re making it through this.” he turns his eyes to look at Dustin.

“You’re gonna have to look after my little sheep for me, okay?”

“Eddie you are not dying, stop this-” you and Dustin protest at the same time and you bury your head in his blood-soaked hellfire shirt.

“And make sure you watch over her for me. Promise me,”

This breaks you. You audibly sob, not hearing anything of what Dustin responds to Eddie.

“H- hey look at me,” Eddie grunts. you lift your head, brushing hair out of his beautiful, perfect eyes.

“If I get to live a million other lives, I hope I get to love you in all of them.”

You can’t get words out at this point. You just lean forward and kiss him softly. You don’t care about the mess or the blood. When you pull away you choke out broken “I love you”’s over and over.

You’re broken out of your trance by Steve’s distant voice. You whip around.

“Henderson!” he yells, running over, noticing your compromising position.

“Oh my god, what happened-” Nancy starts but you interrupt.

“Bats. He needs help. A hospital. Bandages. Now.” you demand. Steve is already beside you, helping Eddie up. You go to the other side of him, holding him up carefully as the group quickly moves to the trailer.

“You’re going to be okay, Eddie. It’s going to be okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It’s a few hours after the giant earthquake ripped through Hawkins. You return from the kitchen in Hopper’s cabin to the room Eddie was laying in with another bowl of water and a cloth. Somehow, someway, you and the gang were able to patch up the wounds, none being too detrimental. He pitifully laid on the bed, bandages covering most of his body. He seemed better and more sentient, just a little traumatized. You were too, your own uncovered gash dully throbbing at you. The others suggested one of them look at it but you refused, mind only focused on Eddie.

You sat beside him on the bed and he gave you a weak smile. You dipped the cloth in the water, continuing to wipe him down, this time wiping down his face.

“Thank you” he simply stated.

“You don’t have to thank me” you smiled softly.

“You’re just... too good to be real,” he said, almost in a whisper. And then suddenly, his smile faded.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. His eyes trained on your shoulder.

“Please just let me look at it,” he states. You shake your head, continuing to wipe his face.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Please, just let me look.”

You drop the cloth back into the water, sighing out in surrender. He manages to sit up and reaches a hand out, pulling your shirt down to reveal the gash. He sighs out your name.

“I’ve been applying pressure and I promise it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did earlier,” you protest. But, he’s already reaching for the damp cloth, pressing it to the wound, cleaning it. You wince but surrender to his touch as he softly and shakily cleans the wound. You shed your shirt and he grabs a spare bandage from the side table, wrapping it around the wound.

“There,” he lays back down and smiles.

“Thank you,” you respond mimicking him from earlier, leaning down to sweetly leave a kiss on his lips.

“Circumstances aside, I do have to mention how sexy you look right now,” he cheekily smirks at you in your bra, even in his weakest moments still being the cheeky Eddie he always has been.

“Scooch over,” you tell him, shedding the pants you were wearing, and climbing into the bed next to him.

The entire gang was fast asleep, too exhausted from the events of the night to manage a normal sleeping schedule. You nestled in next to Eddie, his bandaged arm coming to wrap around your side.

“You know, I really thought I was going to lose you,” you look up into his eyes.

“Yeah, well... I didn’t want to run” he mumbles back.

“Running doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“I shouldn’t have run from Chrissy,” he says sadly, remembering back to his friend. You knew her, albeit not that well, but you had been with them in the woods. The night she died you weren’t with Eddie, but he found and told you right after. You helped him hide. You knew the guilt from that night ate at him.

“There was nothing you could do, Eds.”

“I know.”

“Running isn’t stupid. Especially when it’s in the best interest of everyone involved. You can’t leave me like that. ever. I won’t ever let you. You can’t go off and die being a hero and leaving me behind,” you say, not even realizing you’re crying. “Chrissy would be so proud of you from tonight, Eds. She’d be proud, but she wouldn’t want you to put yourself near death for the sake of not being a coward.”

Eddie sniffs in response. You know he’s softly crying.

“Just promise me you won’t pull some shit like that again,” you whisper, looking up into his eyes again.

“I won’t. I’m sorry,” he wipes your tears and hugs you close to his chest. “Never again. I’m never leaving you.”

"Good. Because I’ll kill you first.” you smile. He softly laughs with you.

And everything is okay. Well, not in Hawkins, technically, but Eddie's okay. And you’re okay. And that’s all that matters at this very moment.

#stranger things spoilers #stranger things vol 2 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson st4 #st4 spoilers #stranger things vol 2 spoilers #eddie fix it fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #eddie #eddie my beloved #eddie my boy

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ggukkiedae · 5 months

Text

miya

[3:30am kst, 231217, wc: 620] [cw: jonghyun (read at your own discretion)]

(from c: i miss jonghyun loads. words can't explain. he has been one of my longest running role models, and i just really wish he's happy and at peace making music for all the angels and stars up there with our moon)

Yoonmi never felt lonelier.

Her members, her brothers, her constants were all in the military, and she had restricted access to communication with them. In fact, she wouldn’t be able to contact four of them for a few weeks at all. Her siblings by blood and on paper were both busy, and her boyfriend just arrived in the country and was probably tired.

She sighed to herself as she looked over to her photowall, a floor to ceiling section filled almost completely with photos, one catching her attention in particular.

Sitting up gently to keep from startling her pets, she approached one specific photo. One of her and someone she used to always go to for advice or comfort when she couldn’t ask her members.

“Hey, Rajah,” she looked at her kitten, “there’s someone I want you to meet.”

The small kitten just looked at her curiously, patiently letting her owner pick her up. After getting her kitten in a sweater and herself in sweatpants and a coat, Yoonmi grabbed her helmet and the body harness for her pets and made for her motorcycle.

The drive was cold.

There was no other way to describe it. It was the middle of December, the beginning of winter, but she didn’t care. Those thirty minutes she spent driving to him would always be worth it.

She silently greeted the security guard, one she grew familiar with over the years, and handed him a pack of brownies as she placed her helmet on her motorcycle. She knew the security guard would guard it like he always did. After a deep breath, Yoonmi walked past the gates.

It was a minute walk before she reached her destination, the person she wanted to see. With a smile, she sat down across from him and gave him a smile.

“Jonghyun oppa,” she bowed her head to his resting place in respect, “I feel like I’ve been bothering you too often, but you know you’re one of my safe people.”

She gently lay a brownie piece on her handkerchief and placed it by him. “I know I’m a day earlier than you probably expected, but I brought brownies! Though I will have to take this piece back when I leave. I don’t really want to litter.”

A laugh escaped her lips as she gently began to unfasten the harness around her torso. Small mewls filled the air as Rajah was shaken out of her comfortable position.

“Oppa,” she showed off the kitten, “this is my new baby, Rajah. Rajah, that’s Uncle Jonghyun. Isn’t she cute, oppa? Jimin oppa got her for me so I wouldn’t be too lonely over their enlistment period.”

She sighed as she set Rajah down, watching as the cat curled up just under Jonghyun’s name. “I made it through the SHINee oppas and their military service, but this is different, you know? I’ve had the oppas with me almost every day for the past thirteen years, and now all seven of them are going to be away for so long.”

“I guess I feel lonely.” A sad smile made its way to her face. “Especially because everyone’s so busy… I know you are, too, but you’re right here with me, right?”

Something, she didn’t know what (or maybe she did), prompted her to look up. Right in her field of view, a star shone brighter than the others. Maybe she deluded herself into thinking it had a slight pearlescent aqua hue.

“Thank you,” she smiled back at him, petting Rajah slightly and taking out a small paper slower she had made from her backpack and placing it next to his name. “I miss you lots, Jonghyun oppa. I hope you’re happy up there.”

taglist: @sunflower-0180 @seaoffangirling @yourwonderbelle @1-800-enhypennabi @kamiiyou @strwberrydinosaur @uraveragefangirlsposts @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @toriluvsfics @billboard-singer @stopeatread @allthings-fandoms

drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

#will probably upload yoonmi with the tannies tomorrow #i miss the tannies too #i hope they’re safe #yoonmi.timestamp #yoonmi.shinee #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi #bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year

Text

spider-woman

pairing: steve harrington x female!reader

WC: 3.3K

warnings: cursing, mentions of a cut and bruise, a very inaccurate way to stop a panic attack (i took inspiration from teen wolf, dont actually do that)

summary: everyone has secrets, but what happens when yours involves super powers and saving lives?

A/N: ive had this in my drafts since i started writing the byers-harrington story. trying to get better at posting more stories in between the series. shout to my lovely friend @alecmores who does all of the proof reading because i practically write blindly.

reblogs are appropriated if given💗💗

masterlist

“What the hell!”

“Steve!”

You were just coming home from a quiet night of patrolling the streets. Ensuring no one was hurt, stores weren’t being robbed, and animals were safe and fed. Although there was just one incident where it had to get physical, you ended up with a black eye and a slight cut to your abdomen, allowing blood to seep out, staining the frayed edges of your costume.

Once you had the perpetrator webbed up and got in contact with the police you made your way back to your apartment, fatigued grabbing at your eyelids, letting them flutter close for a few seconds before you snap them back open and barely miss ramming into a billboard sign or the side of a building.

You make it to your apartment window after midnight, trying to be as quiet as possible not knowing if Steve or Robin are home or asleep already. You push the frame up as slowly as possible since it likes to creak and groan if you move it too fast upwards. You slowly moved one leg through the frame, reaching for the ground, and then moved your other leg. When both feet were touching the ground you maneuvered your upper body under the frame, making sure you didn’t hit your head by moving up too fast.

When you were halfway through you grabbed your backpack from the fire escape and placed it right beside you before moving inside and standing up. Again, you slowly moved to close the window and then threw your curtains shut causing your room to become blacked out.

When you heard no movement coming from the hallway indicating that no one was home or heard you, you let out a sigh causing the slight cut to sting again. When you turned around heading towards your dresser wanting to be in regular clothes, you forgot that your backpack was placed right beside your feet allowing you to fall face-first onto the floor. You let out a cry because, hello dumbass you just smacked your face into the floor, maybe bruising your nose.

You then heard thundering steps coming from the hall, shocking you because it might be an intruder who heard you. The sound of running got louder coming towards your bedroom's direction causing your spidey senses to tingle, bringing you to attack ready with your web shooters pointed at your door preparing for the intruder. Your door was thrown open and without hesitation, you activated your shooters, webbing the intruder from moving any further, stopping them in their spot.

You heard the thump of their body meeting the floor before you even realized who you just webbed up.

“What the hell!”

Your eyes bugged out hearing the cry of your roommate and boyfriend, “Steve!” And you instantly turned a light on.

There Steve was, webbed up in just his plaid pajama pants with his metal baseball bat pressing against his chest. His hair was a bit disheveled meaning your cry woke him up from slumber, he usually sleeps lighter when you’re not together. His eyes were blown wide just like yours were, but both were for different reasons.

You could see Steve’s eyes grow even wider when you were in his proper eyesight. His pupils were roaming over your figure, specifically your chest which was bent over his body with your gloved hands covering your mouth in shock just showing your eyes, along with your black eye. He was looking at the suit covering your body colored in red and blue material with black webbing covering the whole suit, he stared at the spider emblem that was in the center of your chest, and he was not looking out of desire, but confusion. His eyes then moved to the open cut on the side of your abdomen where the fabric was ripped up showing your skin.

“(Y/N)! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING? AND WHY DO YOU HAVE A BLACK EYE AND A CUT!”

You slowly moved your hands from your face, wanting to say something to Steve to try and smooth this situation over, but with nothing coming to mind, you just stated the obvious.

“I’m Spider-Woman?” you stated in more of a question form instead of a fact.

There was a beat of silence between the both of you. All you could hear was your heartbeat moving erratically, Steve’s shaky breathing, the refrigerator turning on to make ice, and the distant sounds of nightlife seeping in through your thin walls.

You moved closer to Steve, kneeling on the floor next to him, roughly ripping at the tough webbing keeping him hostage. You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth with your brows furrowed in slight stress and concentration. Even with your enhanced strength, the webbing kept its hold, maybe even tightening from the stress. You did make the substance so it was strong enough to withhold the weight of a car or building, and it didn’t dissolve until two hours later.

During this moment you’re choosing to not look in Steve’s direction since he still hasn’t said anything and your anxiety was slowly building the longer his silence lasted. You always knew this was something you would have to bring up to him and Robin, but you wished this wasn’t how Steve found out.

“(Y/n),” Steve spoke quietly, barely even heard, trying to grab your attention from your task at hand.

When you didn’t look at him right away he tried calling your name with a bit more steadiness and demand. You barely even turned your head an inch before flinching back into place, scared to be having this talk, scared of what this could mean for your relationship. You know Steve loves you and you love him, but this is something you’ve kept a secret for two years. With all the excuses that range from believable to straight-up stupid that has come out of your mouth, Steve is probably questioning everything.

“(Y/n), can you look at me?”

You finally decided to look in his direction, directly staring into his dark irises which were dripping in confusion and concern. He was still covered in webbing, but at least he could move his left arm out of the grasp allowing him to grip your forearm to keep your attention on him. The both of you were just watching each other now, trying to see who will make the first move, say the first thing. It was Steve to say something first, which makes sense since he needs more answers.

“When did this happen?” was the first question he asked.

“Two years ago, I started to do the webbing thing a month after the incident,” was all you said.

He was still staring at you, the silence slowly suffocating the both of you. You didn’t want to tell Steve or Robin about this because you were scared they would end up getting involved with your crime-fighting life, you wanted to keep the two parts of yourself separate for as long as possible, guess two years was the best you could have before the curtain fell. This was probably the worst time to have this moment since your reputation was slowly growing, meaning more people are out to get you and stop you, aka try to kill you.

You were looking into Steve’s eyes, ones that were watching you, zipping all across your face almost like he was trying to commit every single detail of your face to his memory. As you were just observing him it scared you because this is something you didn’t want Steve to worry about, having him already worried about you, in general, was enough. Adding onto the fact that this line of ‘work’ could get you killed, or get him killed. It would kill you inside and you're pretty sure it would break Steve as well if something were to happen to you.

You went back to pulling the webbing on his body, finally, after all the tugging and ripping, it broke allowing Steve to move again. With him finally free, he sat forward, dropping this bat next to him on the floor, and cupped your face with both his hands gripping your face, gentle, but firm in place. He swiped his right thumb delicately under your left eye where the bruise was already slowly fading in color.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head into his left hand just enjoying this peaceful moment, wishing to freeze time right now, worried about what will happen in the next minute or two.

“Hey,” is the one word that brought you back to reality.

You slowly lifted your eyelids and looked at Steve through your lashes, honestly, you just wanted to sleep right now and talk about this in the morning when you're both properly awake.

“Steve, I know you really wanna talk about this situation, but I’m tired and have to clean my cut, and I would really love to just be in bed right now cuddling you.”

You didn’t want to make it seem like you wanted to avoid this conversation, but it’s been a long day and this interaction felt longer than it was. You could see that Steve was a bit annoyed about having to put off this conversation, but you could tell he saw the dark circles around your eyes signaling to him that you did need the rest and the peacefulness of being home.

He just sighed and nodded his head telling you that he understood. You stood up first, grabbing his wrist and pulling his warm hands away from your cheeks, and then helped him up from the floor. You could see that your webbing was slowly dissolving on the floor leaving behind a little gooey pile, another thing to ignore right now.

You let go of Steve and started to head in the direction of your bathroom, but a grip on your wrist stopped you in your tracks making you turn your head in the direction of Steve. He was just staring at you, watching you as you looked back at him. Knowing what he wanted at this moment now you tilted your head in the direction of the bathroom pulling him along.

You walked into the bathroom with Steve in tow, feeling his watchful gaze following every motion, from grabbing the first aid kit to stripping off the top half of your suit leaving you in just the lower half and your bra. You went to grab the cotton balls and some alcohol, but Steve’s hands beat you to them, pulling them away from your grasp.

“Let's go to the bedroom,” Steve spoke up, his voice a bit harsh.

You just nodded your head, sleep slowly becoming more inviting as each second passed and the feel of Steve’s warm body on your skin is even more welcoming at this moment. The both of you moved quietly through the apartment to make sure you didn’t wake up Robin since it was now nearing two AM.

When you both walked into Steve’s separate bedroom you let go of Steve’s hand, walked to the end of the bed, and sat down with a groan, placing your face in your hands while your elbows rested on your knees. Steve closed the door behind him before walking up to you, running his fingers behind your ear. He moved his hand from behind your ear, gliding it towards your wrist to pull one of your hands away so he can see your face. Steve dropped the kit onto the floor and grabbed your other wrist, both now in his grasp and both pulled away from your face leaving you feeling exposed.

“I’m going to clean your cut and eye and we’re going to sleep this night off, but in the morning the first thing we have to talk about is this situation,” Steve said to you in a low, but solid voice telling you this was one of your serious conversations.

You just nodded your head, too tired to even say okay.

Steve made quick work of cleaning your wounds because they were already slowly healing on their own anyway, but you didn’t tell him that. He would stop and mutter a quiet “sorry” anytime that you hissed from the disinfectant making contact with the wounds. He kept a firm grip on your jaw when cleaning your black eye, moving your face slightly when needed.

It felt intimate with the way he had his grasp on your face, the same way he sometimes held you when you were kissing and it slowly led into something more heated, more passionate, more wanting between the both of you. Although right now you don’t know if he feels any of that wanting right now, just the thought of him not loving you anymore because of this makes your brain go into a bit of panic making your breathing pick up its speed.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, moving his hands to grip your upper arms.

You were looking into Steve’s warm eyes that were clouded with concern and panic, just watching you as you were losing your hold on your breathing.

“I-I c-can’t bre-“

You didn’t even register what was happening for a few seconds before your mind caught up to the present moment.

The feeling of his soft lips on your lips, his hands moving to hold your face, his fingers delicately touching your cheeks and jaw. The feeling of him grounding you back into reality, allowing for your hands to follow in his actions and moving them to hold his face by his jaw, barely setting your forearms on his shoulders. Your lips finally moved before Steve had the chance to lean away from you. Wanting to savor this moment, this little bubble of simple, peaceful times with your boyfriend, and not pay attention to anything that happened before this moment or think of what will happen in the morning.

The outside world became background noise to you, only tuning your ears to the thumping of Steve’s heartbeat as he was tasting you, hearing the hiccups in his breathing when the kiss became more than what it originally was intended to be. Your skin becomes overstimulated just from the feeling of his skin pressing into your cheeks, or the scent of his natural body odor mixed with his body wash; something clean mixed with woodsy elements.

When the both of you ran out of air in your lungs you both pulled back slowly, almost thinking this might be the last time you kiss, the last time you feel each other, but it won’t be the last time, right?

You lean your foreheads against each other, you choosing to not open your eyes, not wanting to break whatever this spell was. You don’t know if Steve chose to do the same thing, but the both of you were just stewing in the silence now. Steve’s fingers swiped across your face where they were holding you in place and then suddenly his thumbs moved under your eyes like he was wiping away fallen tears leaking without your permission.

“Let’s go to sleep, yea?”

Steve spoke the command out quietly as he continued rubbing his thumbs against your wet cheeks. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, the tears free-flowing now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose Steve. He was someone who made you feel exceptional, beyond beautiful, worthy of every piece of your being in this crazy and dangerous world.

He and Robin were all that you had left, your parents were dead, your uncle was killed, and your aunt passed away a year ago. They were the only two people who have constantly been there for you, and if something were to happen to either of them, you don’t think you can continue living.

“Steve,” your voice was rough, the tears causing your throat to constrict.

His hands stayed glued to the side of your face, his thumbs continuing to sweep away the on slot of tears, “sweetheart-” you cut him off, “Steve, please, please” your hands kept a firm hold on his cheeks, “please, don’t break up with me, just because of this. I-”

“Wait, what?” Now Steve interrupted you.

You jerked your head away from the close distance the two of you formed from your kissing session. The look on Steve’s face probably mirrored the look on yours. Brows furrowed in the middle, eyes squinted and held confusion within his irises, his lips a bit pursed, and if this wasn’t a serious conversation you would happily kiss away the puckered mouth.

“You thought- you thought I was gonna break up with you…because you’re Spider-Woman?” he scoffed at the end.

“Well, I-” you were at a loss for words right now. “I just- this was a big secret that I kept from you.”

“(Y/n), sweetheart,” he pulled your face in close and pecked your lips, once, twice, and a third time for good measure. “I would never break up with you, in general, I’m in way too deep,” a stunning smile appeared on both your faces at the confession.

“But this is personal, so I can tell you would have told me eventually. I’m upset because you’ve been putting yourself in danger, and I would have never known if something bad happened to you.” His hands wander along your face.

“Now I wish we had this conversation earlier,” your joking nature spills in.

Steve stood up, his hands leaving your face, “and now I wish we had this conversation in the morning.” He held a hand out for you to take, “now, let’s go to bed. I need my beauty sleep darling.”

You snorted, “Okay, well I need to change out of,” you pointed to the half-striped suit, “my super suit.” A cheeky smile to your words.

“Shall we strip you the fun way or the boring way?” Steve’s reply was even cheekier.

“The boring way, you perv.”

“Shame. I wanted to see how flexible you are.”

“Steve, you already know the answer.”

“Yeah, but you said it’s ‘cause of gymnastics. Now I know you’re Spider-Woman, this opens more possibilities.”

You decided to indulge his idea for a moment, “maybe another time, lover boy.”

He handed you a shirt, “and I’m now going to hold you to that promise.”

With a shake of your head and a smile on your lips, you clipped your bra off and threw the shirt over your upper half. “Ah, come on. Can’t even get a little show?” Steve cried from the bed.

“If you give me twenty bucks, I might put a little burlesque show on.”

He just chuckled at the comment and you heard him sigh before there was the rustling of sheets being moved around on the bed.

With Steve’s oversized shirt covering your upper torso and the hem hitting the top of your thighs, you discarded the dirty suit into a corner and crawled into the bed. You slipped under the covers and Steve instantly has his arms around your body, one over your waist and the other lying under your head. Your own tightly clinging around Steve’s waist and palms flat against his heated back.

“I’m sorry, again.” You mumbled into his neck, nose rubbing against his pulse.

He wrapped you tighter, “I forgive you. I understand why you would keep this a secret, I’m just gonna be worried about your safety twenty-four-seven now. Something I already do, but now I’m on high alert.” He huffed a laugh, trying to play it off as a bit of humor but you knew he meant it.

“I can’t promise you, but I’ll- I’ll try and stay alive.” Your voice cracks just a bit.

Steve was quiet, only the feeling of his chest moving up and down along with him breathing through his nose tickling your strands, long fingers running through your hair. You knew it wasn’t the sweetest thing to say at the moment, but it was the truth. You couldn’t promise your safety or even Steve and Robin’s after this night, and you couldn’t even promise to him that you’ll stay alive and make it back to him, but he didn’t need to know the full truth, only an easy lie.

“Just come back breathing. That’s all I’ll ask of you, (Y/n),” you felt the wet tears hit your scalp but didn’t comment, just held him tighter.

...

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #stranger things #stranger things series #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au #spider-man au

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gainingfiction · 2 years

Text

Office Hours

Summary: Dave has never been much of a reader. But when he finds himself enrolled in an English course with a hunky TA named Cole, Dave discovers plenty of newfound interests... especially when Cole’s weight starts climbing.

As the professor shuffled through some notes at the front of the room, Dave let his mind (and his eyes) wander. There were so many electives he could have taken: Art History, Intro to Human Sexuality… and he chose English. It had always been his worst subject in high school. Dave could understand numbers, the tireless cycle of hypothesis and experimentation, but… words? Words weren’t exactly his strong point.

But he’d been late to register, and he needed a humanities credit. So after grumbling all the way to class, he found himself seated in a musty corner of the Arts Building, playing solitaire on his laptop and flicking through social media. At least there were a few cute guys in the room—sensitive, artsy types, laid-back stoners, fit gym-bunnies....

Maybe this would be the year he actually mustered up the courage to talk to one of them. That was a side of his life he’d been neglecting. He’d spent all of high school and so much of university focusing on schoolwork and lacrosse… on getting his scholarship, and then on keeping it. This English course certainly wouldn’t help...

Dave tuned out as the prof went over the syllabus, and he didn’t think his focus would improve during the rest of the introduction. But then, the prof introduced the course's TA.

Cole was beautiful, with just-slightly-overgrown brown hair and charming, boy-next-door good looks. There was something so impossibly enticing about him, the way he perched on the razor edge between pretty and dashing. His eyes and lips, his glossy hair, it was all so damn adorable, but then he had that sharp, powerful jawline and a nose that seemed to belong on a Renaissance sculpture. He filled out his chinos and a grey t-shirt like he was modelling them for a billboard.

Dave felt a crush starting to form almost immediately. He had to look away to keep from staring.

Throughout September, he spent English class gazing at the stunning graduate student in the front row. Cole was exactly Dave's type, with messy, silky hair and an athletic build, his broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist. Did he row? Was he a football player? Whether he was gliding across a pristine lake or pulling off his helmet after scoring a touchdown for the home team, Cole acted out all sorts of fantasies in Dave’s imagination.

Although, as September gave way to October, Dave started to notice that Cole's waist wasn't looking quite as narrow as it once had. Anyone who wasn't paying close attention probably wouldn't have noticed, but as he looked across the lecture hall, Dave had the distinct sense that Cole's back was looking a little broader, his collared shirt just a little tighter as it pulled across his torso.

Dave put English class on the back burner to focus on lacrosse practice and lab assignments, but he couldn’t put it off forever. The first assignment was due in early October, so Dave used that as an excuse to visit Cole during office hours. On his way, he bought a muffin from the coffee shop in the lobby, tucking it into his backpack as a snack for later.

Dave tried not to be too obvious about the facts that he hadn't been keeping up with the readings, but if Cole noticed, he didn't seem to mind. He was easygoing, with a great sense of humour, and Dave got the sense that he really cared about his students. Which was sweet, given how little the university paid its teaching assistants. Dave had gone into Cole's office with absolutely no idea how to do the assignment, and left with… well, at least something he could work with. He was so grateful he even offered up his muffin as a thank you; Cole declined, at first, but gave in when Dave repeated his offer. He watched with interest as Cole tore into it, eating more enthusiastically than Dave might have expected.

After that, Dave came to office hours more often. In fact, he dropped by practically every week. And for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, he started bringing food. At first it would just be a muffin or a cruller from a nearby coffee place, but as October slipped by, he got a little more generous, whipping up batches of homemade cookies or brownies for his crush.

And it started to show around Cole's waistline. He wasn't particularly tall, so all those extra snacks soon found their way to his middle, until his form-fitting tees and button-downs clung to a pair of budding love handles and his stomach, once flat, started to put some stress on his buttons. When he wore a collared shirt, the lower buttons now spread slightly apart under the weight of his starter belly, the surrounding fabric wrinkling in a desperate attempt to compensate for the excess calories that now padded his stomach.

Dave noticed Cole’s pants getting tighter, too; his thighs had always been sturdy and impressive, but they seemed to be getting thicker, gathering mass at the same rate as his stomach. If thick thighs save lives, Dave was in need of Cole’s salvation. Not to mention his butt—Dave was lucky they spent the lecture sitting down, or he would never get anything done, since that round, perky booty drove him to distraction. It filled out the seat of Cole’s pants perfectly, swaddled tight by a pair of dress pants or khakis or sometimes jeans, all of them getting put to a very vigorous test. Dave made a point of loitering in his seat after class ended, just to watch Cole walk away.

He tried channelling his pent-up sexual frustration into sports. It was something he’d had to do before, but never with a singular focus on one gorgeous guy. Dave started to feel a little embarrassed about how hard he was crushing; he’d even turned down a couple of guys since the strapping, husky TA entered his life. Well, if ignoring unsolicited dick pics counted as “turning guys down”, and inasmuch as a TA “enters your life”—Dave couldn’t escape the feeling that Cole didn’t even know he existed.

Pouring his energy into the game worked for a little while, but he could feel his level of distraction increasing. Dave didn’t even know guys like that existed outside of movie stars and airbrushed influencers, but there Cole was, in the (increasingly ample) flesh.

By November, Dave was starting to seriously reconsider his taste in men. He'd always gone for fit guys, but lately, there was something about a soft belly and chubby thighs that was driving him crazy. It was like Cole had taken him by the hand and started leading him away from the traditional Hollywood hard body, into the world of dad-bods and beer bellies. Dave spent more time thumbing through recipes than he did reading English books, and Cole seemed almost overwhelmed by his generosity—every week, Dave would bring a new and fattening treat, sometimes two: a tray of homemade cupcakes, a new kind of pie... but Cole never complained; he only accepted the desserts with gratitude.

And he seemed to be eating them, too, if his climbing weight was any indication.

Dave was practically drooling by December at the sight of how much Cole had thickened up. When they got back from Thanksgiving, the TA had upgraded his wardrobe, but even that wasn't enough to hide how much wider he'd grown. His belly now pooched out in front of him, his muffin top bulging over the waistband of his pants, forming a tasty pair of grabbable love handles. And his lower half... Well, that was a work of art. His butt remained perky, keeping its round shape even as it widened and thickened and expanded, growing juicier and more prominent with every passing class.

“Dude, how’d you miss that pass?” Dave’s friend Grayson asked one day, as they changed after lacrosse practice. It was a fair question; Dave had been wide open, and Grayson’s pass had been perfect. But instead of catching it, he’d gotten checked hard and slammed onto the field, losing possession of the ball.

Dave didn’t want to admit it, but he’d been daydreaming about Cole, thinking about what he was going to bake for him that week, thinking about his growing dump-truck ass and starter gut. “I dunno, man, must’ve been distracted.”

Grayson arched an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. He just tapped the side of his head with his fingers. “Gotta keep your head in the game, bro.”

But his head was somewhere else.

Feeding Cole had become a hobby for Dave, and he spent hours each week crafting new and rich offerings to lavish on him. And he actually started trying in English class—over Thanksgiving, he'd gone back and done the readings he'd been putting off, and he honestly enjoyed some of them.

"Are you TA-ing any courses next semester?" Dave asked Cole, at the last office hours before the exam. He had brought a pan of cheesecake brownies and a tray of fat, fluffy cinnamon buns dripping with cream cheese frosting; Cole could barely restrain himself, digging into a cinnamon bun during the review and making Dave's cock strain against his pants.

"Yeah, I'll be helping out Professor Glazner again," he said. He gave Dave the course number. "Why, have we made an English student out of you?"

"Who knows? Maybe I'll do a double major, or something." That seemed like a stretch, but if it meant spending more time with Cole, Dave felt like he could be the next Jane Austen. The thought made him smirk.

The exam went better than Dave could have hoped, and he left for the holidays feeling energized. His grades came back, and he’d ended up with a pretty decent mark in English, despite his general… distraction. With the rest of his grades, he’d keep his scholarship by the skin of his teeth.

It was good to catch up with his friends back home, and to spend time with his family, but Dave spent the whole break thinking about Cole. He knew it was silly to have such a desperate crush on a guy who, at most, saw him as an over-eager student, but he couldn't help himself. His attraction was stronger than ever. And, irrationally, he kept wondering whether Cole was losing weight over the break—and hoping that he wasn't.

When Dave settled into his winter semester English class, he realized that he had nothing to worry about. Cole's replacement clothes looked skintight, with his porky thighs and plump backside overloading the seat of his pants. Dave didn’t know whether to pity those pants, faced with the impossible, Sisyphean task of containing Cole’s fat ass, or to be jealous. His burgeoning gut burdened the front of his shirt, and his love handles had plumped up nicely, looking thickset and husky. Dave noticed that his pecs also looked bigger, beefier, like they were starting to blossom into full-blown man-tits. Even his face was softer, rounder.

Dave's arousal was through the roof. When he wasn't studying or working out to get ready for the lacrosse season, he was thinking about Cole, dreaming up new ways to spoil him. He went to office hours every week, having to hold himself back to keep from throwing himself at the increasingly chubby grad student. Tiramisu, banana bread, cheesecake... all of it made its way from Dave's kitchen, through Cole's office and into his expanding belly.

“You’ve been baking a lot,” Dave’s roommate, Kristen said, as he rolled out a pie crust. “Who’s it all for? Because I know you’re not eating all that yourself.”

Dave smiled. “Just this guy,” he said. “You know, study snacks.”

Kristen frowned, “What guy? You haven’t brought a guy back here in ages.”

Dave chuckled at her bluntness. “Thanks for reminding me. We’re just friends,” he said. He wished Cole was more than a friend, but for now, he was forbidden fruit. Even if he was looking particularly sweet and juicy….

February meant the start of lacrosse season. Dave was far from the top of his game, but he managed to hold his own, and he didn’t let the team down. He used to love discreetly checking out his teammates in the locker room, but lately their gym-hardened bodies just weren’t doing it for him. Sure, they were hot, but lately, there was something about a guy with some extra padding, with a big butt and a fuzzy beer belly that really got Dave’s heart beating. Slender jocks just didn’t have the same power over him anymore.

It was close to Valentine’s Day when Dave showed up at Cole’s office with a homemade chocolate torte and a batch of peanut butter brownies. He considered bringing a card, but thought that might be a little much.

Cole gave a slight groan when he saw the amount of food Dave had brought. "You're too good to me," he said. He patted his bulging stomach, already starting to fill out his wardrobe after he'd upgraded it once again. "I'm not blaming you, Dave, but I've gained, like, 60 pounds since September."

Maybe you should be blaming me, a little, Dave thought. He did the mental math: that was almost 12 pounds a month! Cole was exploding! Hearing him talk out loud about his transforming body, hearing his name used in the same sentence as Cole’s weight gain, made Dave pulse with desire; he crossed his legs in an attempt to be discreet. What has gotten into me? He wondered, as he tried to keep from blushing. He didn’t know where this fascination with Cole’s weight gain was leading, but he wanted to find out.

Dave sized him up, admiring the way his buttons seemed to positively ache over the curve of his gut. His shirts were getting tight everywhere, around his chest, around his paunchy middle, even around his increasingly doughy arms… and he was wider, too, his back broadening to accommodate his added girth. That broad back led down to a seriously chunky set of hips, large and well-insulated.

“You look great,” Dave said, cringing at how excited he sounded. He tried to recover. “I mean, like, I know lots of girls go for that sort of build.”

Cole chuckled. “Well, they’ll be disappointed to hear that I’m gay,” he said.

Dave tried not to swoon. Not only was the object of his desire ballooning before his eyes, he was also gay! Of course, Cole seemed too straightlaced to date a student… but Dave wouldn’t be his student forever. And he already had a pretty good idea about the way to his heart.

So when he wasn’t blasting his pecs or quads at the gym, playing lacrosse, or finishing up a lab assignment, Dave was whisking lemon curd, filling eclairs and piping out beignets. It was getting expensive, but he had his scholarship and some student loans to fall back on. And as hard as it was hitting his wallet, the excess calories were hitting Cole’s waistline even harder.

Dave looked at the clock one night, and realized that it was after 1, and he had an 8 AM lab the next morning. He looked at himself in the hallway mirror—same slender, easygoing face, same smooth skin, but with flour in his hair and a distinctly bleary-eyed look. He’d have to frost the cupcakes tomorrow… He couldn’t have Cole going without.

As March slipped by and the air started to warm up, Dave realized just how much winter weight his favourite TA had piled on. In just six months, Cole had gone from trim and toned to downright fat. His dad bod—perhaps more than a dad bod, at this point—was evident, with a prominent belly that looked soft and pliable beneath a dress shirt that was pulled as tight as a drum over his broad, round gut. There was definitely still some muscle in his chest, but that chest was rapidly transforming into a pair of meaty man-tits, with nipples poking against the fabric. His arms looked thicker, softer; Dave imagined his slender body getting wrapped up by those burly arms, cradled against that soft torso as he cupped Cole’s big, round butt.

And what a butt it was. Cole’s whole lower half was a masterpiece… Dave wanted nothing more than to rip off Cole’s tight pants and bask in the glory of his blubbery thighs, to clasp and grip and jiggle each plump ass-cheek, to hold him by those broad hips and pull him into a kiss. Each step sent a definite, noticeable ripple across his buttocks, and his thighs had gotten large enough that they were starting to rub together when he walked. God, he was so dreamy…

“Hello? You there?”

Dave was snapped back to reality by his prof, and he realized that everybody was staring at him. His cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“We were talking about theme. And what Melville was trying to convey through the character of Ahab?”

“Uh, obsession,” Dave said. “And the destructive power of his obsession with the whale.”

The professor nodded, returning to his lecture, and Dave breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he’d just barely gotten away with his daydreaming. He was shocked he’d managed to go so long without getting called on by Glazner; then again, he did sit pretty far back.

Dave overheard a particularly juicy conversation on his way out of class. A pair of girls in front of him were chatting, and his ears perked up when the conversation turned to Cole:

“What has he been eating?” one of them asked, as she packed up her bag. “He’s like, seriously letting himself go.”

“Ugh, I know right?” her friend said. “He used to be super cute, but now… God, look how fat he is! He’s practically waddling!”

Dave followed their gaze, staring at Cole as he walked over to the lectern to talk to the professor. He was starting to waddle a little bit, meaty thighs fighting their way past each other as his bulbous rump bobbed up and down, sending his saddlebag hips swaying from side to side. His pants were almost obscenely tight, the seam separating each beefy butt cheek looked very strained indeed.

“Seriously, he’s turning into a blimp.”

“Aren’t gay guys supposed to be, like, super fit?”

“Yeah, like that one guy. The lacrosse guy. What’s his name, isn’t he in this class?”

“Danny? No, uh, Darren?” she scoffed, “I wish my boyfriend looked like that.”

Dave made a show of clearing his throat, and the girls turned around with predictable embarrassment. After an awkward chuckle, they quickly turned to enter the stairwell.

But it wasn’t their compliments, or their mind-numbingly reductive view of gay men, weighing on Dave’s mind as he walked out of the Arts Building. He practically had to hold his backpack in front of his crotch to hide his boner, locking himself in his bedroom as soon as he got home and frantically rubbing one out. He’s turning into a blimp.

Cole wasn’t in his office at the start of office hours that week. Dave waited outside the door, clutching a plastic tupperware container and a pan of brownies. He was hoping the object of his affections would show up in time for their weekly one-on-one.

A moment later, he saw Cole bounding down the hall, his blubbery middle quavering as he plodded along. “I’m—” he huffed. “I’m sorry… I’m late.”

He was out of breath and sweating; Dave was amazed to see that a guy who’d looked to be in tip-top shape just six months ago now seemed far from it. He must have been doing absolutely nothing since school started, aside from sitting on his ass and eating. Cole pressed a hand against the wall, panting. “My bus was… late,” he explained. Dave imagined him jogging up the stairs to his office on the third floor, wishing he had been a few minutes later so he could have taken in that sight.

Inside his office, Cole stripped off his jacket and slung it over the back of his chair; Dave took in his pit stains, watching the way his chest and belly expanded in and out with each heaving breath. God, he was out of shape. Dave set his baking on the desk and took out his notes while he waited for Cole to get ready. Eventually, they got down to business. Dave studied Cole’s handsome face, dusted with a perfect layer of stubble, as he read over the outline of Dave’s latest assignment.

“I see someone’s been doing the readings,” he said, as he chewed on the homemade fudge that Dave had brought him. “Either that or you found a good online summary.”

Dave laughed. “No, I really did do the readings,” he said. “Well, some of it I read, some of it I listened to. Sometimes I listen to audiobooks at the gym.” And when I’m baking.

Cole offered a wry smile, “Sounds like an English nerd to me,” he teased.

Dave flushed. They’d built up a pretty good rapport over the course of two semesters. He was going to be sad to say goodbye after exams.

April snuck up on Dave, as usual, and he was in exam mode before he knew it. Even if the constant noise in the kitchen drove Kristen crazy, baking was a good outlet for his stress, and he swung by Cole’s office for their usual Thursday sitdown with his arms laden with sweets: a chocolate pie, a batch of snickerdoodles, and a full box of raspberry scones.

“This is so much,” Cole said, as he took it all in, wide-eyed.

“Well, you’ve just been such a big help to me,” Dave said. “I want to show my appreciation.”

Cole smiled. “Just doing my job. It’s rare to have a student so engaged. And so generous!” He laughed, making his round, sprawling belly jiggle.

A few weeks later, Dave slid the final essay into the dropbox. He was done another year of school; only one more left before he graduated. It was exciting, but he felt a twinge in his chest: he had gotten so used to spending time with Cole. He was really going to miss him.

It felt strange showing up to his office empty-handed. He almost wished he had brought something, even as a token. But Dave didn’t want to risk leaving for the year without saying goodbye. The door was closed when he arrived. After a moment’s hesitation, he gave a knock.

Cole was bent over when Dave entered, reaching into a filing cabinet. Dave took in the sight of his vast, wide posterior, a great, spherical ass that jutted out behind him, resting atop a pair of broad, hulking thighs. If he was still piling on the pounds as fast as he had been in February—and Dave guessed that he was—he must have been at least 80 pounds heavier than he had been in September. And judging from the size of that ass, 80 may have been conservative. On a fairly short frame, that amount of weight made him look nothing less than huge.

“Hey, Dave,” Cole said, spinning around to face the door. He looked bigger than Dave had ever seen him. His fat belly flooded out in front of him, not quite fully contained by his thin sweater, which pulled tight across an expanse of abdominal fat. Even the white undershirt beneath was riding up, unable to contend with so much extra weight. Soft love handles bulged out at his sides, stretch marks exposed and visible, and his breasts cleaved against his sweater, round and perky from the muscle beneath.

Dave drank in Cole’s large, thickly-upholstered torso, in awe of how paunchy and overfed he looked. There was a time when his tight shirts showed off the outline of abs; now, it was his navel that was outlined by the overworked fabric. And his pants looked almost painted onto his vast legs. He dropped himself into his office chair, which gave a furious creak, his big butt pressing against the chair’s arms. He smiled, “What can I do for you?”

“I just, um… I wanted to say thanks,” Dave said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He felt like an idiot, but he was starting to get emotional. “You’ve been really great.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Cole said. “You have my email.”

“Yeah,” Dave said. His heart was pounding. “I, uh… you know, I really like you.”

Cole seemed surprised. “I like you too, Dave.”

“No, like, I really like you,” he said. He cringed at how childish that sounded; he was talking to a guy who was mostly finished his masters degree in English, and Dave sounded like a high school jock. He still was a jock, but Cole had opened him up to a whole other side of himself. His eyebrows knitted together as he struggled to convey the full strength of his feelings. “Like, I don’t want to stop seeing you, that’s how much I like you.”

Cole searched Dave’s face, eyes widening as the realization dawned on him. Dave didn’t know how much more obvious he could have been; he’d been practically throwing himself at Cole all semester. Short of doing a striptease in his lacrosse uniform with an Oscar Wilde anthology, he didn’t know how he could have made it any clearer. Did Cole know he was gay? Or did the idea of having that kind of relationship with a student not even occur to him? “Oh, you mean…”

Dave nodded. “I don’t know if this is totally inappropriate or if I’m way off base here, but… would you maybe want to hang out sometime? Outside of your office, I mean?” He bit his lip, his gaze flickering from the floor to Cole’s face, his perfect, luminous eyes.

“I’d like that a lot,” Cole grinned. “Although I don’t know if that’ll be good for my diet plans.”

Dave laughed. “It definitely won’t,” he said. He could only imagine how many more sweets he would stuff into Cole over the course of the summer, and the sort of massive proportions he’d balloon up to. If those girls thought he was a blimp before, just wait until fall semester, he thought. The university had better upgrade their chairs, widen the doorways, reinforce the floors… If they started dating, Dave knew that Cole’s weight was going to get seriously out of hand.

“How about tonight?” Cole asked. “There’s this Korean barbecue place downtown that I’ve been dying to try.”

Dave couldn’t say yes fast enough.

#weight gain #male weight gain #gay #weight gain story #wg story #realistic gain #gaining fiction #belly #bhm #fatboy

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impyssadobsessions · 2 years

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Phoenix Down

T w T story wouldn't leave my head for months so i wrote it instead of new chapters LOL but I hope y'all like it too~ Here's an excerpt below ~

The rain. It didn't matter where it rained or how heavy, Dick didn't like it. It made jumping off buildings more risky, visibility low, wrecks more likely to happen, and worse of all... it made him panic. Every time he was caught out in the rain, he felt his chest tighten. An uneasy chill in his spine that wouldn't go away. His stomach would churn and it took all his mental power to focus on anything else. This time wasn't any different. Or at least he thought. He stood perched on the edge of a rooftop, staring down below at the lights blurred by the heavy rain and mist. He was doing everything in his willpower to focus on the few moving lights. Keeping his mind blank as his hair stuck to his face. Just a few more hours, and then it will be time to head home. To a warm shower, and cool bed. Just to wake up in a couple hours and head off to his day job. No rest for the wicked nor for the vigilantes that fight them, as they say. Well, as they should say. Dick flinched, as his eyes saw movement in corner of his eye. There was a grayed out figure on the rooftop of one of the abandon buildings below. Small and staggering. He furrowed his brows watching the figure, as it stumbled closer to the edge of the roof. No. That's not good. Dick stood up from his perch, he took a step back and leapt forward off the roof, diving to the building below. He curled his body in the air to flip himself around, using his grappling hook to grab onto the billboard sign just above the building. Slowing his descent and landing onto the rooftop with a roll. The figure seemed startled as it fell back onto its bum. Water splashing as they hissed in pain. Nightwing smiled apologetically, as he took in the other's form, now that he could see it better. He couldn't be older than fifth-teen if he was being generous, though he looked closer to thirteen or twelve even. His hair was black and scruffy, and his eyes were piercing blue. Striking and clear despite the heavy fog and mist. He wore a torn hoodie, holding his arm to his chest. It was bandaged with ripped fabric. Presumably, from another article of clothing. A backpack was slung around one arm, looking just as worn as the rest of him. “Sorry for dropping in, but you look like you could use a hand.” Nightwing forced a grin, kneeling down as he offered his hand out to the boy. He didn't mean to scare the kid. Just to stop him from potentially dropping himself. He half-expected to be cussed at, after all, Nightwing was not well liked here. Neither was any vigilante. Instead, he was greeted with an annoyed glare, and quick wit. “I already have two, thanks.” The scruffy teen showing off his hands, letting go of his injured wrist for a moment. He then hissed in pain and returned to put pressure on his injury.

“One and a half.” Dick pointed out, still keeping his distance. He didn't want to overwhelm the teen, but he really hoped he let him look at his arm. “An extra pair, wouldn't hurt?” “No thanks, I can make do with less.” The teen scooted back from him, before shifting to get up on his knees. His feet ready to push himself up and run if need be. “Doesn't mean you have too.” He couldn't let him run away. His eyes glanced back at the injured arm. Nightwing offered, “At least let me clean up your arm.” The boy glared at him suspiciously, keeping his injured arm to his chest. “Its fine.” “The fabric is soaked in blood.” Dick pointed out, which seemed to be the wrong answer as the kid panicked down at his arm, hiding it away from him. Strange. Nightwing peered, trying to get a better look at the arm. At least he knows it wasn't self-inflicted by the way he reacted. Or at the very least, not intentionally created to be as bad as it was. Maybe he was running away from the gangs? They didn't have any problem hunting down a teen who was struck with bad luck, or anyone really. If only he could inch.. just a little.. closer-

The teen glared at him, moving back even more. Nightwing held up his hands, with a sheepish grin. “I concede.”

Way to mess up. He had to be patient. Think. “So water wing, why did you come up here all by yourself?” “Water wing?” The teen repeated with a raised brow. “It's raining, and you're holding your arm like a broken wing.” Dick tried to explain, when really he was just trying to think of what to call him on the spot. He doubted “kid” would receive a good reaction. “Unless you have a name for me to use?” “That's fowl.” The teen stuck his tongue out, but his response made Dick grin. “A real quack way of asking who the heck are you. Normally people, I don't know, start with their own name before they ask someone else's.” Name. He could do that. “Nightwing. I'm here to help you.” Dick held out his hand, hoping the teen take it.. or at least shake it. The teen raised a brow at the hand, then stared hard at Dick's face. His face trying to hold back showing his expression, as his mouth stressed trying to keep in place as he thought. Then his eyes widened, muttering. “Duck.” “Duck?” Nightwing uttered before he could register what the Teen meant. “Not so far off. It is a waterfow- “No. DUCK!” the teen lunged forward into Nightwing.- read rest on a03

#dick grayson #nightwing #danny fenton #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #crossover #fanfic #ao3 #phoenix down #was gonna wait til I had more chapters ready but T w T i couldn't LOL

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ask-spider-men · 11 months

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Right as JJ is on the news complaining about a new spider person, said new spider person swings face first into the billboard above the streets of New York displaying him, breaking it, gets electrocuted, and falls to the ground with a thud. She stands up and stumbles a bit, her costume seeming to smoke, very much not used to her powers yet

“You okay there?” Spider-Man asked, his voice sounding both concerned and amused. He’s sticking to a wall like he just landed there with a backpack on his back.

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trapezequeen · 27 days

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I went tromping around Disney today as a walking Zendaya billboard for some of her older stuff😂

1. My hand painted Anne wheeler hair bow (thanks to @igotthisaccountunderduress telling me she was watching the greatest showman)

2. My outfit giving KC Cooper vibes

3. My MJ and spiderman backpack

#Wesleya rants #zendaya #backpack #mj Watson #KC cooper #Anne wheeler

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plumoh · 6 months

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a prayer and a coin; chapter 1

Natsume Yuujinchou & Noragami crossover fic.

Rating: G Wordcount: 2213 Characters in this chapter: Natsume & Yato Summary: Takashi calls a god. It makes things easier. Note: AO3 link. The first few chapters will cover the setting for this crossover when Natsume is still a child, then the following ones will most likely be standalones.

Takashi thinks it's worth a shot.

He's tried everything up until now, and nothing worked. He tried telling his guardians that something was lurking in the house sometimes, he tried asking for advice at school but the teachers weren't of big help, he tried the little tricks he saw in books like putting salt in front of doors. He is running out of ideas and the monsters keep following him everywhere he goes.

So one day, he scribbles down the phone number he sees on walls and billboards on his way back from school, thinks that this Yato god must be fake but… but the phone number is tagged in large and ugly handwriting and nobody seems to notice it. People would have gossiped about vandalism if they could see it. So that means this is a real god, right? A god who is only visible to those who need help?

Takashi runs home to avoid encountering any monsters. He pushes the door open, throws his backpack on the ground and quickly surveys the apartment to make sure his guardians are still at work. Only silence greets him, which makes him sigh in relief. He retrieves the piece of paper from his pocket, ambles towards the house phone, and dials.

He feels like his hammering heart is going to crash through his ribcage. There is one ring, then another, and these are the most nerve-wracking three seconds of his life.

And finally, someone picks up.

“Hi, thank you for calling! Fast, cheap and reliable, delivery god Yato at your service!”

Takashi slowly moves the phone handset away from his ear, and blinks. He’s not sure what he expected but it is…not that.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Takashi fumbles with the handset in his haste to reply. “Y-Yes, sorry. Thanks for answering my call.”

“Oh, a kid. What’s troubling you?”

“Um. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He hears something like a sigh on the other side. “Do you need help doing your homework? Did you lose something? Are you bullied at school?”

Takashi winces a little at the last suggestion, but this is not an issue he can’t resolve by himself, so he swallows and goes for it.

“I…I see monsters sometimes. They like scaring me and nobody believes me when I say they’re here. They all think I’m lying.”

Takashi nervously glances around the room, suddenly aware that any of the little monsters could have entered the apartment when he opened the door. He doesn’t hear or see anything hiding behind the couch, or flying over his head, so he’s probably safe for now.

Yatogami is quiet and doesn’t answer right away. Takashi’s heart drops to his stomach at the thought of a god not believing him either. Red-faced, his throat is getting dry and he feels panic rising in his body.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” he mumbles.

“No, no, kid, that’s alright,” Yatogami says hurriedly, and he tacks on a cheerful laugh at the end of his sentence. “You were right to call! So you’re telling me you can see ayakashi? Big colorful monsters with lots of eyes looking at you like you’re a feast?”

Takashi wracks his brain to find a monster similar to that description.

“I think I’ve seen small ones around on my way to school,” he says. “Like spiders? Or worms? But the monsters I usually see look like ghosts, or sometimes like people. They often wear traditional clothes or have masks.”

Takashi easily recognizes this type of monster (ayakashi?) because there is something unsettling about them—the one-eyed mask, the crooked fingers, the sinister smile. And they always specifically address him, even in a crowd. Then they follow him home and try to eat him.

The little colorful ayakashi don’t bother him as much, but he never expects to see them so close to other people or hiding in the cracks of the pavement, so that makes him anxious in a different way. What if they climbed on people and got into their homes?

“Hm… Well, you’re sensitive to both ayakashi and youkai, which is kind of rare,” Yatogami muses. “Do you mind if I come over to explain a few things? That will be easier than over the phone.”

Takashi startles at the request. “I-I’m not sure it’s a good idea… My uncle and my aunt are going to be home soon, and I’m not supposed to have guests over.”

“Don’t worry about that! They won’t be able to see me, and I can disappear just as fast as I appeared.”

And, probably to prove his point, someone materializes next to him. Takashi drops the phone and scrambles back against the wall, stupefied, while the man in front of him grins and lowers his cellphone.

“See? Divine teleportation!”

Yatogami is…a man no older than some of the cousins he sees at family dinners. He’s wearing a tracksuit. Takashi was imagining formal wear, like a kimono or at least a grown-up’s suit, so he’s completely taken aback by the ordinary person he’s seeing.

These blue eyes, however, are the most god-like feature on Yatogami—sharp, bright and all too knowing. Takashi feels pinned by that gaze, even though the rest of the god’s face is nothing but friendly.

“So, what’s your name, kid?”

Takashi does his best to refocus on the conversation, despite the odd feeling running the entire length of his body. Maybe being near a god naturally makes people uneasy.

“I’m Natsume Takashi,” he replies slowly. “Should I… Should I call you Yato-sama? You look so normal.”

Yatogami snorts. “Well, that’d be weird if ‘god’ was written on my forehead!”

“I mean, you’re wearing normal clothes…”

“They’re comfortable and perfect for the kind of jobs I do. And if you want to call me ‘Yato-sama’, go for it, Takashi!” The grin that splits Yatogami’s face in two looks genuine enough. “I’m a god after all, call me whatever you prefer.”

Takashi nods. “Yato-sama then.” It’d be rude if he doesn’t address a god with propriety, even if the god in question looks like he’s about to go on his morning run.

“I’m going to give you some advice, since you’re having trouble with ayakashi and youkai. Some people consider them the same thing, but in my experience ayakashi are less intelligent than youkai. Ayakashi are creatures that simply feed off people’s negative energy, while there are all sorts of youkai. You’ve probably seen many of them. Do you have paper and a pencil?”

Wordlessly, Takashi goes back to the front door to bring his backpack over. He reaches into it and retrieves the requested items (Takashi is giving Yatogami his math notebook, so he hopes there will be enough pages left for him to use at school). Yatogami takes them with a thanks and starts sketching on a blank page of the notebook with inhuman speed. He shows the results to a surprised Takashi.

“I’ve seen that one,” Takashi blurts out, pointing to a one-eyed, round body. “And the kappa. And some others that look a bit like what you drew.” He meets Yatogami’s eyes. “You’re very good at drawing.”

“One of my many hidden talents.” Yatogami winks. “What I’ve drawn are youkai. Most of them are capable of speech but they have varying degrees of intelligence. You should ignore them if they start talking to you, and if they’re really persistent, run to a temple. They don’t like their sacred grounds. Ayakashi will also leave you alone if you go to a temple, but you don’t have to worry about them as long as you don’t have strong negative emotions.”

Takashi frowns. “You said that… ayakashi like negative emotions? Like anger?”

“Anger, sadness, frustration, guilt, all sorts of things that humans don’t like feeling. So you’d better keep yourself in check, especially since you can see them.” Yatogami draws more figures on the paper, and this time the drawings only depict strange shapes with many eyes on their bodies. “They look kind of gross, right?”

Takashi gives a tiny nod. He doesn’t remember seeing huge creatures resembling the drawings, but maybe he just wasn’t paying attention. The small ones probably think they’re discreet enough to pass through the cracks and get closer to humans without them noticing.

“Thank you for telling me what these monsters are,” Takashi says, bowing his head. “I can’t talk about it with anyone, so I’m really glad you don’t think I’m a liar.”

Yatogami stills his hand, and his gaze settles on Takashi. There is…a dangerous glint in these blue, blue eyes.

“Humans are so frustrating to understand,” Yatogami sighs, shaking his head. “You’re just a kid, so you’ll grow up and become someone different. Surround yourself with people who like you for you.”

It’s easier said than done. All the friends Takashi tried to make eventually left him because they found him weird and scary—but he’s not going to tell that to Yatogami, who is only trying to help.

Yatogami sets the notebook and the pencil on the dining table, and with his back to Takashi, he says, “I can’t teach you how to defend yourself from youkai and ayakashi, but you can call me whenever you’re in trouble, alright?” Then he whirls around, and his gigantic grin is back on his face. “That will only cost you 5 yen!”

Takashi blinks. “5 yen?”

“Yeah! I’m not going to steal from a kid. Give me a 5-yen coin every time you call me and that will do.”

This is the oddest payment Takashi has ever heard of. He didn't even think about payment in the first place; he saw the phone number, a promise to help for any kind of issue and the hope of living a better life. But Yatogami seems sincere and he isn't looking at Takashi like he's pulling his leg or going to withdraw his offer. There is a sort of reassuring presence that emanates from the god—the aura of someone who knows what they're doing.

Takashi, despite the weird encounter, likes Yatogami. He's only had one conversation with him but he already looks forward to their next meeting.

“I probably have some coins in my bag… I'm not sure I have 5-yen coins, so if I give you 10 yen, does it mean I'm paying you in advance?”

Yatogami shrugs. “I usually only accept 5 yen, but I can make an exception.”

Takashi digs into his school bag, in the inside pocket near the bottom. He only gets enough money from his aunt and uncle to buy a snack every week or so, which means he should be really careful about storing it to avoid losing it. He pats around the pocket and finally fishes out a few small coins. There is no 5-yen coin, but like he suspected, he has a 10-yen coin.

“Here.” He hands the coin to Yatogami, who picks it up with a smile. “I don't know when I'll call you again, but I have your phone number written on a piece of paper so I won't forget it.”

Yatogami’s mouth quirks up, like he's resisting making a joke. He shakes his head, then flips the coin to toss it in the air and catches it in a swift motion.

“Thanks for the money. Be sure to call me back one day, because you'd be losing 5 yen if you don't!”

“It's only 5 yen,” Takashi says, puzzled.

“You have to start small to become rich, kid.” Yatogami looks around, stares at the front door a little longer than necessary, then says, “Well, I have to go now. Avoid trouble when you can, call me when you want me to deal with whatever problem you have! See you, Takashi!”

“Ah, uh, goodbye, Yato-sama!”

Right as Takashi’s words leave his mouth, Yatogami vanishes in a dance of light and the front door opens.

“Oh Takashi, you're already home?”

Takashi jumps towards the table to take Yatogami's drawings and stuff them into his bag. His aunt doesn't seem interested in what he's doing and simply heads towards the kitchen. She is humming a song that often gets broadcast on the radio, and Takashi hears some rustling from plastic bags. She is probably going to start on dinner, which means he should go back to his room and do his homework.

Takashi stuffs back Yatogami’s phone number in his pocket and lugs his backpack to his room. He should put the piece of paper somewhere that will be easy to reach—maybe in the pockets of his coat, or in the front pocket of his backpack. If he’s not at home, he can use a payphone to call. He should actually write the phone number on multiple pieces of paper, in case he loses one of them. And leave one under his pillow. That way, he’ll be able to call Yatogami whenever he needs to.

Satisfied and kind of giddy, Takashi sits at the tiny coffee table in his room and starts his math homework. Yatogami’s drawings are staring at him all the while, but Takashi, for once, isn’t scared of looking at these strange and awful creatures. They exist, and there are other people who can see them. He’s not alone.

#natsuyuu #noragami #natsume takashi #yato #natsume yuujinchou #fic: a prayer and a coin #i love these two series SO MUCH 8((#and soooo many characters are about to become friends

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