#i literally see it in any edit and burst into tears | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiestrokes · 8 months

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i like had this thought in the back of my head of like what ateez would be like with an S/O who has a physical illness bcs i actually have one which causes a lot of pain to my bones and i'm like in a constant state of pain and discomfort, been going on for about 12 years HELL YA ✊🏻, if i don't keep up on my meds (currently don't have the proper meds so it only tides me over for a little while-) then im basically fucked so IDK i feel like there isn't a lot of stuff written about this kind of stuff (im a sucker for shit i hardly ever am able to read abt) ALSO IM NOT 100% SURE IF YOUR REQS WERE OPEN BCS I DIDNT SEE ANYTHING POSTED ABT IT SO- YA- if you don't want to write it obviously you don't have to !! no pressure at all lovely

ATEEZ Caring for You: Chronic Illness Edition | SFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Gender Neutral!Reader/You/Yn Rating: SFW Genre: fluff, slice of life, headcanons, imagines, scenarios. Warnings: chronic illness + immunocompromised talk.

🗝️ Note: Hey atiny anon! You actually asked the right person; I have fibromyalgia combined with a few other annoying chronic illnesses. Because you can't just have one 😓 I hope that you can find a decent fucking doctor and get on the proper medication soon. That's the biggest part of the struggle, finding a physician that will listen and is competent enough. I hope this was enough, I tried to assign each member a caring task that I felt fit them! Has not been beta-ed.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

Seonghwa

He’s here to help you prevent all the chronic pain that he can. Booking you massage visits. Trips to the hot springs. All the arnica rubs. Silly little games the two of you play, to keep your mind off the pain and depression spirals. His favorite is seeing who can build their new Lego set the quickest. Hwa is the biggest advocate for you, he would never return a dish at the restaurant when its wrong. But he will fight for you at every appointment, every pharmacy, wherever you need him to. Because he knows you've grown tired of fighting all the time.

Hongjoong

HJ's specialty is flexibility. You have a sudden burst of energy? He’s down to go explore that new pop-up market with you. You’ve come down with a bout of bone numbing pain? That’s cool, you’re getting changed into comfy clothes and piled up on the couch. Swaddled in your heating pad with all the snacks. Where he falls asleep on your shoulder. HJ never gets frustrated with your rapid change in mood or plans. Nothing but the most understanding partner you could ever have asked for, and boy is he so cute and snuggly when dozing on you. Small hands seeking your face for drowsy kisses that soothe your aches just a smidge.

Yunho

The quiet presence, the one who knows what you need before you say it. Passing you tissues, making you a cup of tea and most importantly holding you so that you can cry. Shedding angry tears about how frustrated you are with your own body for betraying you. For feeling weak. For missing out on things. He's gently calming every frayed nerve in your brain. Reassuring you that you're exactly where you need to be in this moment, and he will bring all of the fun to you. And he does, in small, manageable doses.

Yeosang

His way of caring for you is through caring for your outside. All the skin masks, hair treatments, skin softening lotions because if you feel cruddy, at least he can make you feel cute and comfortable. They do heal though, in their own way. The extra moisture of the humidifier and every cream and essence he buffs into your skin helps keep some of the aches away. Subsiding the itchiness of the nerve pain, just a little. And you can’t get over how cute Yeosang looks in each animal themed headband or with his hair tied back into teeny space buns or how nice his hands feel every time they glide over your skin.

San

Where Yunho is quietly attentive, San is passionately attentive. You cry, he cries (while holding you). Quite literally your pain, is his pain and he’s here to be with you through each step. No judgment is ever passed when he has to pick up your extra chores around the house. Because to him, that is the smallest act of service he can perform for you. San is the one who wishes he could take on your pain, that he could fight it and destroy it and it pains him that he cannot. So he will simply have to do everything else.

Mingi

He thrives on making you laugh and smile through tough days, because he understands feeling burdensome. Mingi never wants you to feel that way, he wants to make sure you verbally know that your presence is needed and welcome. His favorite thing is cuddled up in bed with you wrapped in your heated blanket watching shows. You looking so small in his arms, giving him the feeling of protecting something. He reassures you constantly, because he himself seeks constant reassurance. Mingi never tires of this, he will reaffirm every single self deprecating thought with a compliment even on his worst days.

Wooyoung

He cares for you with his skinship, which is incredibly healing. His happy heartbeat encourages yours. His strong hands make you feel loved and needed. Who would cuddle him if not you? Woo often reminds you, whispering the phrase into your ear as he traces his nails through your hair, or while rhythmically drawing circles on your spine. Making you float into dream land and anchoring you in the moment with him at the same time. Woo also loves making you whatever dish you’re craving, knowing you need energy to fight off fatigue and pain. And cooking is one of his many, many love languages.

Jongho

Needing to hoard all the extra rest you can get; you seek out solace at Jongho’s place for nap time. Jongho has taken notice, he’s also taken inventory as to which blankets of his you prefer, the pillows that keep you asleep the longest, what temperature you prefer the room to be based on what you’re wearing. All your favorite snacks before or after. New blackout curtains. He’s made his place your ultimate nap zone. New heated blankets. Duplicates of your fave lounge wear and socks. And he takes his payment in cuddles. Holding you tightly in his bed or sprawled on the couch. Sometimes he falls asleep himself and flips you onto your back to bury into your side like a full-sized teddy bear.

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riseofamoonycake · 4 months

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Sending photos to s/o using a chest enhanceing filter

But the reader is either flat or male

I thought it might be funny

For Buddha, Jataka, Loki, your choice

THIS IS THE FUNNIEST! THANK YOU!

RoR characters reacting to their S/O using a chest enhancing filter

Buddha

It takes him two seconds to open the photo you send him. And not even one to burst out laughing like crazy, so much so that he even starts howling. As usual, you are a blast! And as soon as he sees you he doesn't even speak, his gaze says it all and he can't help but laugh again. His behavior then varies based on the reactions: if you get angry, he sits next to you, takes your hands and kisses the back of them, and then hugs you and whispers that you are perfect just the way you are, it's not the breasts or a few more sizes to make you better… however, if you really aren't comfortable with your body and this creates serious problems for you, he is willing to listen and advise you on possible solutions to make you feel better. Everything, to make you happy.

If, however, you are the first to laugh at your own creation, then he has no hesitation in teasing you and joking with you, even going so far as to slip fruit, pillows or other things under your dress, specifically to see how you would look with an enormous breast. It goes without saying that you lose everything, from your dignity to all your tears, just by thinking about it.

Jataka

"My love… what is it?" Jataka continues to stare at the photo without knowing exactly how to react: he should be worried, because you are uncomfortable with your body and would like to change it? he should laugh? Maybe you want to tell him something he isn't understanding? In the end, the king goes to talk to you, because in addition to be (very) embarrassed, now he wants to know if there is something deeper underneath, or if this is all a joke. So, with all his sweetness and kindness, Jataka listens to what you have to say on the matter; all the time, however, he can't help but look at your chest - which he knows perfectly and in every centimeter - and not feel the desire to cuddle and caress you, even just to thank you for sending him a photo of yourself (every photo of you is preserved like a treasure). In the end he doesn't hold back any longer and does it, whatever you told him, giving your chest all the attention it needs; and regardless of why you used the filter, you find yourself thinking that maybe you should use it more often, if this is the effect you get… literally.

Loki

“You'd love it, eh”, Loki grins as soon as he sees the photo, then edits it by removing the filter and sending it back to you with a heart-shaped emoticon and a kiss. If you get angry, he's happy like this and keeps teasing you all the time, pointing out how impossible your dreams are and teasing you in every way to make you more and more furious, it's more fun and your angry little face is pure enjoyment for him! if instead you start laughing, he smiles sweetly and doesn't go on… anyway, regardless, he won.

In both cases, however, he ends the conversation by taking you by the hips and placing you under him, then he leans into your ear and whispers to you how much he adores and prefers you just the way you are: there is no filter that can improve you, you are already perfect. You are the best version that could exist… after all, it is you who makes him weak, not your chest; even if he chooses that one as the first recipient of his kisses, tearing your clothes to pieces to immediately bite your nipples and trap them under his wriggling tongue… in the end, you don't need to have huge breasts to feel pleasure under the merciless touch of his teeth and his unstoppable, hungry licks…

Susanoo

Daddy Susanoo stares at the photo for a few moments, then smiles quietly and chuckles to himself. After a while, you find him behind you, his confident gaze above your head and a hand already on your chest, intent on caressing it with slow circular movements that could excite even a statue. “And so, someone here wishes to have big breasts… really, sweet Y/N? Hmm?”

You don't even have time to answer, because Susanoo has already pushed you onto the first soft surface available and pinned you under him with all his weight, before grabbing the upper part of your clothes and tearing them without much fuss, and finally making slide a finger down your chest, tracing it from your collarbones to the top of your belly. "It already seems perfect to me as it is… ah, no, wait, something's missing…", and at this point he gives you a bite so hard that it makes you scream and leaves a mark on your skin, and then kisses it... and leave you like this, breathless and even confused, now that you see him walk away giggling and without doing anything else.

All day Susanoo will do nothing but giggle and do everything he can to avoid your gaze, and will continue to stare at the photo, this time laughing openly. Who knows, maybe towards the end of the day he'll come to you and finally take care of you… after all, you have made him so happy with your stunt, so why not? Maybe, just maybe, your chest actually deserves more bites and marks to show off.

This time, without any filter.

#snv loki #ror loki #record of ragnarok loki #shuumatsu no valkyrie loki #ror #snv #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv buddha #ror buddha #buddha record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok buddha #ror jataka #snv jataka #snv susanoo #ror susanoo #record of ragnarok susanoo

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pinchofhoney · 1 year

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Hi! Could I request a Ben Barnes x reader story where they have been secretly dating for a long time and their relationship only gets publically found out when Ben accidentally does an interview with a lipstick mark on his face/neck 💋

white lies

@/pinchofhoney, i'm the author of this poorly made edit (autocomplete interview with ben is something we all need)

i combined this request with another one, because they are meant to be together: (...) if you could write a one shot where Ben and the reader are in a really private relationship, and when I mean private like literally just them, like their close friends are the only one who knows they're together but one time they got spotted and it went trending and the reader thought they would receive backlash but turns out the people have always been rooting for them? (...)

ben barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

warning: nothing but fluff, everyone loves fluff<33

summary: The saying goes that a lie has no legs, and this rings especially true when it is caught on camera.

a/n: hello, and thank you for your request!!<33 i know how long you waited for me to write it, so i hope you will be satisfied with the result:(( let me know, please! thank you for your patience<3

every like and reblog is very much appreciated. don't let if flop!!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @myladydarkling @alexxavicry @danelhi @lonelywitchv2

“Hey there, I’m Ben Barnes and today I’m doing WIRED Autocomplete Interview,” Ben introduces himself with a bright smile on his lips and his eyes fixed directly on the camera, so everyone in front of the screen could feel as he was speaking specific to them.

When one of the people off-camera handed him the first question board, Ben quickly thanked them before taking a moment to look on the very well-known by internauts object. With a confident smile, he uncovered the first question and responded without hesitation. “Is Ben Barnes British? Yes, absolutely. I was born in London, England and I am 100% British, even though I spend a lot of time in the States,” he replied with a hint of amusement in his tone. “Although, I thought my accent would give it away,” he added with a chuckle before tearing off another piece of paper to reveal the next question.

“Is Ben Barnes an only child?” as he read question, he shook his hand in front of him to remove a piece of paper that had stuck to his fingers. The paper eventually fluttered to the ground, and Ben's attention returned to the camera with a grin on his face. “No, I actually have a younger brother named Jack,” he said, his eyes sparkling with joy as he recalled his sibling. “He's absolutely lovely, I miss him,” he added, nodding his head slightly.

Upon reading the next question, Ben furrowed his eyebrows, a hint of confusion flickering across his face. “Is Ben Barnes Spanish?” he raised his head to look at the camera and chuckled. “I don’t think we need to answer this question,” he said genuinely amused by the search. Without skipping a beat, he quickly moved on to the next question, and when he read it, his face lit up with a warm smile again. “Is Ben Barnes in the T-Mobile commercial? Yes!” he declared, his voice brimming with pride. He sent the camera a charming grin and added, “I, in fact, am this charming British actor,” winking at the camera and playfully imitating a line spoken in the commercial.

The quiet giggles of the women working in production behind the camera made you burst out laughing. Even though you couldn't see them, you could picture the adorable grins on their faces. Ben always knew how to work his charm, and sometimes you found yourself resenting him for it, especially when he used it against you. Both of you knew you couldn't resist his charismatic plays.

You sit on the couch, absorbed in the latest interview with Ben, which had just been posted online. You could be his girlfriend, his confidante, his partner in crime, but he never shared any behind-the-scenes secrets with you. He loved seeing your genuine reactions to his work, no matter what they were. It was just one of the many things that made him so endearing to you.

As the interview continued to play on your phone, you heard the familiar sound of Ben's footsteps entering the living room. You looked up to see him walking towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew what you were watching and he couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you. He leaned over the back of the couch, his face hovering just inches from yours.

“What are you watching, love?” he asked, his voice full of amusement.

You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. “Just the latest interview with my favorite actor,” you replied, pretending to be unimpressed.

Ben grinned and leaned in closer, his breath tickling your cheek. “Oh, really? And who might that be?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock curiosity.

You shook your head, trying to hide your smile. “I don't know, some Benjamin? He reminds me of my favorite character from Disney animation,” you teased back.

Ben chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before settling onto the couch next to you. You leaned into him, enjoying his familiar scent and the feeling of his arm draped around your shoulder. The interview continued to play, but you found yourself more distracted by Ben's presence than the questions being asked. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and the way his hair looked even messier than always. You could hardly believe that the charming and witty actor was your boyfriend.

“Wait,” he suddenly spoke up, snapping you out of your thoughts about him. He shifted his curious gaze to you after he stopped the video, his eyes a warm shade of brown that you could get lost in for hours. “Which character?” he asked, his voice filled with interest.

You furrowed your eyebrows completely off guard. It took you a moment to realize that he was referring to the words spoken as a joke. “Oh,” you said, your eyebrows raising slightly as your brain processed his question. “Eugene Fitzherbert.”

“Eugene?” Ben repeated, looking even more confused than you were a seconds earlier.

“Oh my goodness,” you muttered pretending to be annoyed. “Flynn Rider, does that tell you anything? Girl with magic hair? An evil stepmother keeping her in a tower?” you shifted away from him, settling into a cross-legged position as you faced him. “I've got a dream, I've got a dream. I just wanna see the floating lanterns gleam,” you sang, earning a chuckle from Ben.

“Okay, Rapunzel. Right,” he said, still laughing as he watched you. “I should have known. You’ve watched that movie, what, a hundred times?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't help the fond smile that crept onto your face. "Only a hundred? I thought you knew me better than that," you teased, leaning back into his side.

Ben shook his head, still grinning from ear to ear at your playful banter. He reached for your phone and resumed the interview with a smile. You watched him intently as he answered all this questions, his passion for storytelling evident in every word he said. But suddenly your attention was diverted by something you hadn't noticed before – something that could potentially create a stir online.

Your hand flew to your mouth in surprise. “Oh no,” you gasped. “Is this what I'm thinking about?”

Without a second thought, you took the phone out of Ben's hands and held it up to your face, squinting to make sure you weren't mistaken.

Ben chuckled at your sudden change in behavior. “What are you looking at? I know I'm devilishly handsome, but you can look at me in person, you know?” he joked, but as he noticed your furrowed brow and lack of response, his expression turned serious.

“What is that?”

You turned your head, shifting your gaze to Ben, all the while holding your hand to your mouth with eyes wide open. “The reddish mark on your neck.”

Hearing your words, Ben's eyes widened and he almost snatched the phone from your hands to get a better look. At the same moment, a question about whether Ben had a partner appeared on the white board, to which he firmly denied and quickly moved on to the next topic. Hearing this coincidence, you burst out laughing uncontrollably, but Ben didn't find it as amusing since you had managed to keep your relationship a secret for over a year. Only your closest friends and family knew about it, and no one else. You had made the mutual decision to keep your relationship under wraps. It had started as a way to avoid unwanted attention and speculation from the media and fans, but as time went on, it had become a way to protect your relationship and keep it sacred. It had been a source of stress and anxiety at times, but it had also brought you closer together, sharing this special secret that only the two of you knew.

The situation was too ironic, and you couldn't stop laughing. The timing of the question about Ben's relationship status coming up at the same moment you noticed the mark on his neck was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Finally getting a hold of yourself, you asked, “What do we do now?” Noticing the look on Ben's face, you could tell he was worried.

He tried to reassure himself by saying, “This mark is barely noticeable. No one should be able to spot it, right?”

But you couldn't offer him any comfort, and you just helplessly shrugged your shoulders. You had to be honest with yourself, the idea of it being exposed was kind of terrifying. You knew that if you made it public, it would change everything. People would start scrutinizing every little detail of your lives, and the media could potentially spin it in a negative light. Being a regular person, you valued your privacy and didn't want to deal with the hassle of being in the public eye. Besides, what if his fans didn't like you? The thought of reading negative comments about yourself on all your social media profiles was daunting. You knew what kind of venom some users were capable of spewing, and you didn't want to expose yourself to that kind of negativity.

You quickly navigated to the comments section below the interview, frantically searching through the fan reactions, praying that no one had caught a glimpse of the conspicuous reddish mark on Ben's neck that you had left there before he went to work. Why the makeup artists had failed to conceal the mark before filming? They should have noticed it.

As you scrolled through the fan reactions in the comments section, you couldn't help but groan when you came across the first comment that mentioned the hint of your lipstick with an exact time reference. “03:31 BENJABIN THOMAS BARNES WHAT IS THAT MARK ON YOUR NECK?” you read aloud, and looked uncertainly at Ben, who was also staring at the phone screen. Your fears had come true.

As you continued to read, you noticed that there were other comments that also mentioned the mark. Ben pointed his finger at one of them too, confirming your suspicions. The situation was getting out of hand.

But amidst all the serious comments, there were a few that made you chuckle. “Someone wrote all men do is lie,” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t lie,” he rolled his eyes, biting his lower lip to keep himself from laughing along with you.

“You do and this video is the proof of that,” when you said these words, you suddenly realized something. You straightened up, opening your mouth in surprise, and looked at Ben with feigned indignation. “Are you the one who ate the last cookies in the package? Don’t lie to me,” you said clearly, pointing an accusing finger at him with a serious face, wandering your eyes over his face.

“I-” Ben began in a defensive tone, and you watched the amusement that started painting on his face. “Okay, fine, it was me,” he admitted, laughing and defusing the tension. “But let’s not start a cookie war right now.”

As you both sat there in silence, you reached over to lock the screen of the phone, effectively ending the interview. With the device now resting on the table in front of you, the weight of what had just occurred began to sink in.

After a few moments, you tentatively broke the silence with a suggestion. “Why don't we just pretend that nothing happened?” you offered, hoping that Ben would agree. It was clear to both of you that publicly announcing your relationship was not an option, and this seemed like the best way to handle the situation.

Ben looked relieved at your suggestion and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that's probably for the best,” he said, his voice sounding a little strained. You could tell that he was still processing everything that had just happened.

You sat in silence for a few more minutes, both lost in your thoughts. Finally, you decided to break the tension with a joke. “Well, at least now we know that your fans are Sherlock-level detectives,” you quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Ben chuckled, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I guess I underestimated their sleuthing skills,” he replied, his voice sounding a little more relaxed now.

As the weeks passed after the incident during the interview, you and Ben did your best to keep your relationship under wraps. You avoided going out in public together, and when you did, you made sure to keep a low profile. But on this particular day, you decided to grab lunch at a small café near the neighborhood he lived in. You were enjoying your meal and chatting with Ben when a fan spotted him and shyly approached your table.

“Excuse me, are you Ben Barnes?” the fan asked excited, holding out their phone for a photo.

Ben smiled politely and put his coffee down on the table before agreeing to take a photo with her. She handed you her phone, her hands shaking with excitement, and asked if you could take the picture for her. You accepted with a soft smile and positioned yourself to take a few shots while Ben stood up to pose with the fan.

After the photos were taken, she couldn’t contain her happiness and gushed, “I’m such a big fan! I loved you in The Punisher.”

Ben chuckled and responded with a grateful tone, “Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

The fan asked him a few more questions about his upcoming projects and music, and you observed with admiration as Ben responded with a smile and listened intently to her every word. He never gave the impression that he was bothered or uninterested, even if the topic wasn't something he was particularly fond of. You thought how much his fans meant to him and how he treated each of them with respect and kindness, making them feel important and appreciated.

As the fan walked away from your table, beaming with excitement, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy at her experience. It was amazing to see how Ben handled his fans with such kindness and charm, making each and every one of them feel special, and you were sure that the girl would cherish this encounter for a long time. Despite having witnessed this before, you were still impressed every time by his sincere connection with his fans.

When Ben sat back down, you could tell that he was still in a good mood. “She was sweet,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “It's always nice to meet fans, you know?”

You smiled at him, feeling warm in your heart. “You're amazing with your fans, Ben. I don't know how you do it.”

He shrugged, looking down at his coffee cup. “I don't know, I just try to make them feel appreciated. They're the reason I get to do what I love, after all.”

The two of you continued chatting for a while longer, discussing the least important things, enjoying each other's presence and having lunch together. But as you were about to leave the café, you noticed something strange happening on your phone.

“What's going on?” Ben asked, noticing the look of concern on your face.

You showed him your Twitter feed, where several notifications were popping up, all of them about the photo you had just taken of Ben with the fan, praising Ben's good looks and speculating about your identity. “Looks like we're trending on Twitter,” you said not sure how to react.

You glanced at your phone's screen once again and read the tweet that had caught your attention. “JUST SAW BEN BARNES OUT FOR LUNCH WITH HIS MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND! I have no idea who she is but THEY LOOK SO CUTE TOGETHER! Screaming crying throwing up #thatshouldbeme”.

Ben let out a small laugh as he read the tweet on his phone. "Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag," he said, glancing up at you.

The tweet had already been retweeted hundreds of times and you could feel your anxiety rising as you thought about what this might mean for you. For your relationship.

“What do we do now?” you asked him, your voice trembling slightly.

Ben took a moment to think before responding. “I think we should just embrace it,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “We can't change the fact that people know now, so there's no point in trying to hide it. And honestly, I’ve been thinking about it. I don't want to have to pretend that I'm not dating the most amazing person in the world,” he added, reaching across the table to take your hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

Despite the less-than-ideal situation, his unwavering support and affection provided you with a sense of comfort, as though everything would be alright.

As you and Ben exited the café, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, even though it seemed like everyone was just minding their own business. Some pedestrians recognized Ben and pointed discreetly, while others tried to catch a glimpse of you, the mysterious girlfriend. The paparazzi were nowhere in sight, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they caught on. You wondered how you would handle the inevitable intrusion into your private life, but for now, you were content to hold Ben's hand and enjoy the moment.

As you walked down the street, Ben leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Don't worry, we'll figure this out together,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. You turned to him and smiled, feeling grateful to have him by your side.

#ben barnes #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes fluff #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x fem!reader #ben barnes x female reader #ben barnes interview #wired autocomplete #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fluff #secret relationship

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finalgirlfae · 2 years

Text

your best american girl.

pairings: platonic!nick sturniolo x black!fem reader

genre: sad, very sad

warnings: black girl trauma, slight mentions of colorism, just sad ok!

this was written for the dark skin black girl, babe you’re beautiful and more than enough. let no one tell you or make you think otherwise <3

you drove to the sturniolo house with tears welling in your eyes and your heart hammering so loud you could hear it in your ears. you took one hand off the wheel, wiping an eye before making a left turn and flooring it.

it happened again.

stupidly, you had fallen for this guy and you thought that he liked you back. you two had been talking for several months and you thought it was finally going somewhere until he hit you with all that “i’m not ready for a relationship” bullshit. he had wasted countless hours of your time and energy for something that was going ultimately no where which yes, left you feeling shitty, but it wasn’t why you were currently crying at the sturniolo’s front door.

he had lied. just days after saying he wasn’t ready for a relationship he had posted a photo on his instagram of this girl and him, clearly dating and happy together. the harshest part? she was lighter than you. that was why you were standing on the porch of the sturniolos in tears.

the door opening pulled you out of your thoughts.

“hey y/n- oh my god are you okay?” matt asked as he looked at your teary eyes. chris stood next to him with the same concerned looks. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m fine,” you lied. you were close with all the triplets, of course, but matt and chris were the last people you wanted to break down in front of. you actually didn’t wanna break down in front of any of them at all- because you knew no matter how many sympathetic nods and looks they gave they didn’t really understand what is was like to try and date as a black girl. that was your burden to carry and one they’d never have to face.

this wasn’t to say they didn’t struggle on their own but it was completely different from how you did. “is nick home?” you asked, blinking away some tears and they nodded, telling you he was up in his room.

each step you took up the stairs made your head pound, it hurt so much from all the crying and you literally hadn’t eaten all day. nick’s door was cracked open so you didn’t bother to knock. you looked at him, sitting with his computer on the bed- most likely editing a video.

“nick?”

he looked up, smiling to see you but it dropped as soon as he was the expression on your face. “y/n/n? what’s wrong?” he slid the lap stop away and stood, coming over to you. as soon as he was in front of you you broke down into tears.

nick didn’t say anything and wasted no time before pulling you into a hug which only made you sob harder. you didn’t know what to say, where to begin or how to explain it because of course everyone struggles in love. it’s part of the human experience. that hug lasted for a while before you were ready to pull away and take a deep breath. you knew he was anxious to know what the fuck happened judging by the look he was giving you.

“it happened again.”

“what?” nick questioned. you knew if you hadn’t just burst into tears a second ago in front of him he’d be berating you for being so god damn vague.

“nick he got a girlfriend.”

“he did fucking what?” he asked, following you as you went to sit down on the bed, him next to you.

“i’m sorry, didn’t he just fucking say he wasn’t ready for a relationship? which, by the way, was a complete waste of your time.”

you sniffled and nodded. “and she’s light skin- i’m so-” you couldn’t even finish the sentence before choking straight on your words.

“i’m so tired, nick. i’m just so tired of it of it all. i feel like i’m being pranked all the time, and i feel even dumber when i believe these guys could actually like me. it’s even worse because i don’t know how to explain it to you guys. it just sucks. no matter what i do i’m gonna be beat out for a girl that’s lighter, or white or has some kind 3c hair i just can’t take this anymore. i mean, like- do i not get to be loved too?”

nick turned his head to you. “what?” he asked, “babe of course you do.”

“yeah well you’re my best friend. you gotta say that.” you shrugged, sniffling a tear.

he shook his head. “no. i’m not saying it as you’re best friend, i’m just saying it as a person who knows you. y/n, you are easily one of the most gorgeous girls i’ve ever seen. you’re funny, and you’re smart, you’re loyal and you’re all around just an amazing person. these idiots know that.”

“so why does this keep happening to me?”

“because they’re idiots!” he exclaimed. “i’m sorry that it keeps happening and i can’t do anything about it, and i’m sorry that i don’t fully get what it’s like, but don’t for a second think that just because some dumbasses screw you over that you don’t get to be loved ever. okay? it’s gonna happen for you. i’m sure of it.”

you looked at him and smiled, wiping a tear from your eye.

“you’re the most incredible person i know, okay? i wish you would see yourself the way i see you. it fucking sucks, but it’s gonna get better. it just has to.”

“thank you nick.” you pulled him in for another hug. nick always knew how to reel you back in when you were going off the deep end.

“of course.” he stood up. “come on, let’s go get you a picture with matt or chris so we can make that dumbass jealous.”

you laughed as he grabbed your hand and you two ran down the stairs. nick made you feel 10x better in those short few moments.

•••

FAE SPEAKS,

this was sooo self-indulgent but idec

#nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #imagines #fluff #i'm sad #black reader

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moonbreezes · 2 months

Note

"-sickly Georgie (literally trauma bonding through sickness and period accurate “medicine”) he was ill every other month why not use it '

Sounds intresting and I haven't heard that before. What did you mean by that????

I do not know how to present this in a coherent way so allow me to create a vague list of some of the more notable events that revolved around George’s health. And I will restrict myself to only the time that he was James’s favourite.

I will not comment on George’s early years, because I cannot find any source (I might edit this later when I find anything of substance) that comments on his health. (Nonetheless I vaguely remember reading something about his poor health when he was a child.) However, there are records about him being sick whilst being already a favourite. It is especially interesting as King James often personally visited George or sent him gifts (fruits) so that he could recover quickly. There are not only third party records about George’s health and his sickness form outside visitors, but there are also letters from James directly addressed to Buckingham that mention his health.

The first incident oh his health collapsing is around late 1616, when it was speculated that he fell from grace and was not going to stick as a favourite, because of his absence. This is also around the time when he received the nickname Steenie, after St. Stephen who was dubbed as person with an angelic face. At that time, it became imminent that he was prone to being sick during moments of great tension. It might have been a prolonged sickness as it was noted around spring he was not feeling well, perhaps due to the death of one of his promoters – Sir John Graham. Some also speculated whether his poor health and absence was connected to John’s ‘fits of insanity’ (elder brother).[1]

Another incident happens three years later around June 1619. In April, James fell ill, and many feared he might die due to the severity of it. George, fearing his bad prospects after the possible death of the king was immensely relieved once James started to recover. Nonetheless the constant fear and taking care of the king resulted in him felling ill. After quick recovery he overexerted himself once again and a series of fainting spells took place, this forced him to rest much longer. After that James gave him, a stern talking to as he worried about George.[2]

Then, at the very end of Charles’s and his stay in Spain (around the end of August 1622) he, once again, fell ill which resulted in a delay of their return to England. There were rumours that he contracted syphilis while staying in Spain, which was supposed to explain a collapse in health shortly after he returned.[3]

(late April 1624 – June 2024) Then, there was the carriage incident. After the failed Spanish Match, there was a lot going on between not only between James and George but in general (Spanish weaving in accusations against George while talking with James, then there was the Parliament, James not liking what was going on and the influence George was exercising over Charles and the whole popularity thing. There was a lot). Their relationship turned colder.

He was about to leave for Windsor, for the Garter ceremonies on St George's Day, but could not bear to take Buckingham in his coach with him. The Duke, sensing that something was wrong, pressed James to say what was the matter. Thereupon the King, bursting into tears, declared that he was the unhappiest man alive, to be treated with such ingratitude by those who were dearest to him, and told Buckingham of the charges made against him. The Duke, who could not restrain his own tears, protested his innocence and called for a full investigation to discover who had given the ambassadors this false information. But James drove off to Windsor, taking only the Prince with him, and the disconsolate Buckingham was left to return to Wallingford House where he retired to bed and refused to see anybody.[4]

After that George fell ill once again. Charles in letters to Buckingham assured him, that he would mediate with James so that he would forgive the duke and the affection would return once more. Still weak in body and mind, after some time George was allowed to travel with the king in his coach. Nonetheless, his frail health was compromised once more, and illness returned. This time however, it was not entirely certain that he would survive. (James’s head physician tended to him).

Chamberlain reports on 13 May 1624: "The Duke of Buckingham hath ben sicke above this sevenight of a feaver, the jaundisse, and I know not what els, so that besides other phisicke he hath ben thrise let bloud at least, yet the world thincks he is more sicke in mind then body and that he declines apace" (Letters, 2: 558) [5]

After a difficult night, the King, fearing for his favourite’s life rushed to his side and was by his bedside for some hours. As Buckingham steadily recovered James was said to send him gifts (fruits such as cherries, melons, or grapes) daily, for which George thanked him in letters.[6] Then it is also said that at one time, he knelt at his bedside and begged the God to transfer the illness onto him so that the favourite would recover.

Dear Dad and Gossip, Though you commanded me to write no answer, yet, since I should not a slept well this night except I had done it, I hope you will excuse my disobeying of you at this time. I have been the longer a-doing of it because I might send you the certainer news of my health, which at this time is so good, what with your sweet cordial and my seasonable drawing of blood, that I hope tomorrow to wait of you a perfect man. I hope you will not be put to much pains to read this hand, since you have received so many love letters from her who joins with me in humble thanks for your kindness and care of us both. So, craving your blessing, we end Your Majesty's most humble slaves, Kate. Steenie.[7]

And once again, the affections between James and George returned to their, let’s call it, default state. Nonetheless, despite a quick recovery, during his next appearance Buckingham was supposed to be carried on a chair, as he was unable to walk or even hold a pen; his body was simply too weak.[8]

Following that, there were other minor instances when George’s health gave out.

Dear Dad and Gossip, I have not yet been able to acquaint the Ambassador with what you have found in your book, because I received your letter when I was come from him; but before I shall be able to see you, I shall have done it; for what with the rainy weather, my late coming last night, and this day's long treating with him in the garden, I have such a swelling in my throat, and such a noise in my head, that I can neither swallow nor hear well; wherefore I shall be forced for my health, if your service will permit me, to take a little physic. The physicians tells me this is the seasonablest time […].[9]

Sweet heart, Blessing, blessing, blessing […]. Remember now to take the air discreetly and peece and peece. And, for God's sake and mine, keep thyself very warm, especially thy head and thy shoulders. Put thy park of Bewlie to an end, and love me still and still. And so God bless thee, and my sweet daughter, and god-daughter, to the comfort of thy dear dad. JAMES R[10]

In January 1625, whilst dealing with various (war-related) affairs he has once more fell ill, and even the King urged him to leave London and rest in the countryside. Nonetheless this time around, he had to suffer through what was ailing him and carry on working. And lastly the death of king James also affected George, as the grief rendered him so weak in his body that he had to be, once again, carried in a chair.[11]

So there it is. I am absolutely sorry about the amount of my yaaping about George and his health, even if is truncated. I have tried to stay coherent and do not stray from the timeline, so I hope that this little ‘compilation’ is alright. Tldr; George had health of a Victorian street urchin battling with consumption and contemporary medicine.

Bibliography

Bergeron, David M. 2002. King James and Letters of Homoerotic Desire. University Of Iowa Press.

Lockyer, Roger. 2014. Buckingham: The Life and Political Career of George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham. Routledge.

[1] Lockyer, Roger. 2014. Buckingham: The Life and Political Career of George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham. Routledge, 28.

[2] Lockyer. Buckingham, 55-57.

[3] Lockyer. Buckingham, 162.

[4] Lockyer. Buckingham, 187.

[5]Bergeron, David M. 2002. King James and Letters of Homoerotic Desire. University Of Iowa Press, 125.

[6] ) Bergeron. King James and…, 208.

[7] Letter form Buckingham to King James (c. 16th June 1624) ) Bergeron. King James and…, 205.

[8] Lockyer. Buckingham, 196-9.

[9] An excerpt from the letter form Buckingham to King James (c. August 1624) Bergeron. King James and…, 207.

[10] An excerpt from King James’s letter to Buckingham (c.1624) Ibid., 176.

Lockyer. Buckingham, 213, 226, 234-5.

#george villiers #king james vi and i #king charles i #kate villiers #mary and george #it's a travesty that he only had pox in the show #and wdym James returned his letters #they conversed about health a lot #ty georgie for making me read about your urin #and yellowish skin #sweet steenie #nothing gets one going like a good health talk #i am sane #i swear

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glow-205 · 10 months

Text

Elaine: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t “fit in” and I don’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.

—

Elaine: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL-

Leora, covering Cory’s ears: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!

—

Leora: Are you mad?

Elaine: No.

Leora: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

—

Leora: Are you good?

Elaine: In what sense?

Leora: Generally.

Elaine: Oh, definitely not.

—

Leora: Wow, great work on the Halloween decorations. Where did you get the fake skeletons?

Elaine: Fake?

—

Elaine: WHO THE FUCK-

Leora: Whoa, language!

Elaine: I speak fucking English!

Leora: ...

—

Leora: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Elaine: Literally or figuratively?

Leora: I have to specify?

—

Elaine, holding a kettle: Coffee or tea?

Leora: Tea.

Elaine: Wrong. It's coffee.

—

Elaine: Hey Leora, can you give me the opposite of these words?

Elaine: Always, Coming, From, Take, Me, Down.

Leora: Never, Going, To, Give, You-

Leora: The satisfaction.

—

Cop: What are your names?

Leora: Don't tell them, Elaine.

Cop, writing: Elaine...

Leora: Crap.

Elaine: Nice going, Leora.

Cop:

Elaine: Well, shit.

—

Elaine: Who the fuck-

Leora: Language!

Elaine: Whom the fuck-

Leora: No.

—

Leora: Can I borrow five dollars?

Elaine: If you’re only borrowing it, does that mean you’ll pay me back?

Leora: Of course.

Leora: Not directly, but with my love and affection.

Elaine: So that’s a no.

—

Elaine: I’ve invited you here because I crave the deadliest game...

Leora, nodding: Knife Monopoly.

Elaine: I was actually going to play Russian roulette, but now I'm really interested in whatever knife Monopoly is.

—

Leora: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry?

Elaine: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

—

Elaine: Ugh, there’s always that weak bitch in the group who isn’t down with murder.

Elaine: *glares at Leora*

Leora: Well, sorry I have morals!

—

Leora: What do you have?

Elaine: A KNIFE!

Leora: NO!

—

Leora: All the sudden I got a random burst of energy, and I think it's my body's last hurrah before it completely shuts down.

—

Leora: I'm feeling it! What am I feeling? Death, probably.

—

Elaine: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen.

Leora: That’s a snake.

—

Leora: Don't go to the kitchen.

Elaine: Why?

Leora: I saw a spider.

Elaine: Well, did you kill it?

Leora: It has 8 arms and I only have 2, it's not fair...

—

Leora: If you spell skeletons backwards, it still spells skeletons.

Elaine, deadpan: Wow, I can't wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks.

—

Leora: *mixing different alcoholic beverages together*

Elaine: What are you making?

Leora: A mistake.

—

Elaine: I can't believe you've done this.....

Leora: I'm sorry I didn't know-!

Elaine, on the verge of tears: YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE ASSHOLE!

—

Elaine: How do you want your coffee?

Leora: Black, like my soul.

Elaine:

Elaine: Leora, your soul is a latte.

—

Computer: Please enter a password.

Elaine: *types in “Leora”*

Computer: Your password is too weak.

Elaine: How fucking DARE YOU-

#dislyte #dislyte leora #dislyte elaine #dislyte incorrect quotes #24duo #leora dislyte #elaine dislyte #incorrect quotes

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theimperialnuisance · 8 months

Text

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 10: You pick: Limit

the furthest extent of one's physical or mental endurance.

Character(s): Kien Eilath and Ardbert with mentions of Emet Cw: very mild body horror (if you squint) depiction of being sick Word count: 579 Notes: I asked my friend/co-worker to give me a word and this is what I got! :3 Contains Shb spoilers as this was the first thing I thought of when I heard this word. Might go back and edit this cause what I want to really capture here is just barely scratching the surface. Under the cut for the cw.

His comrades were down–there was no one left.

The Light was finally breaking free with a vengeance.

Harsh coughs racked the Miqo’te’s body as pain coursed through him.

It was only a matter of time before he became the very thing he feared to become.

A scream tore through his throat as a white hot pain stemming from his left shoulder blade drove him to his knees. That must’ve been the wing bursting through…the transformation was beginning to take hold and it made him feel sick to his stomach–literally.

He felt his stomach clench painfully and he fell forward onto his hands as his body began to heave up the chalky white bile again at an alarming rate. He could seem to catch his breath, his mouth opening and closing with needy gulps of air any chance he wasn’t coughing up. Dimly he could hear Emet-Selch saying something to him but it was drowned out by the cracking in his ears and his vision began to white out.

This is it then….I’m at my limit….after everything and it still came to this…

Kien fought back the tears as his body finally gave out and he fell forward onto the ground, the last of his energy spent. Just as his consciousness began to fade, he could see a pair of boots step up next to him. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was–the familiar warmth of his presence would be the last thing he felt before his vision was engulfed in blinding white light.

He wasn’t out for long though. Or at least, that’s how it felt when he blinked open his eyes. He was still somehow himself. At least, in here he was. He shuddered to think if on the outside he had already transformed entirely but at least here in this white cocoon in his mind, he was no longer in pain. The warm presence was still with him too and he finally had the strength to lift his head to see it was indeed Ardbert standing by his side.

He opened his mouth to say something, an apology for failing but somehow he knew that wasn’t necessary. The Hyur kept his gaze focused ahead, a raw sort of determination radiating off of him a as he finally seemed to understand his purpose. “If you had the strength to take another step, could you do it?” Ardbert asked, his question causing hope to bubble through Kien’s chest. “Could you save our worlds?”

Kien inhaled a breath, feeling his strength return to him. They haven’t lost yet. He pushed himself up to his elbows, a small determined smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You know I could,” Kien spoke, his voice clear with determination. Emet-Selch would not be the victor today. His gaze softened as he too knew why Ardbert was still with him and he added with quiet conviction, “But not without you.”

Ardbert let out a short chuckle as he finally turned his gaze to Kien, his eyes full of the same purpose reflected in the Miqo’te’s eyes. “That’s the spirt,” He grabbed his axe off his back and offered it down for Kien to take. “Take it, we fight as one!”

A new blinding light filled Kien’s vision as he grabbed the hilt of the axe and he knew he could push himself beyond his limits to win this battle. His world and this world would be saved.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #shadowbringers #cue the awesome shb music #kien eilath #ardbert #miqo'te wol #final fantasy xiv #nico writes #ffxiv fanfiction #shadowbringers spoilers #ffxiv writing #cw for illness #cw body horror #very mild

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bellajackson200 · 2 years

Text

Pocket Boy. The Anual Feast, edition

There is a tradition among people who "owns" tiny people. Boys in particular as they can endure more. I have found by personal experience, that tiny people are gluttonous by nature, and this tendency is being abused by a certain competitive and possesive type of people. The so-called self proclaimed owners of these poor tiny boys. The boys were taken in as strays and groomed in a way where they can't leave. They were made dependent on their owners. They are better off in their abusive relationship than to fend for them selves on the streets.

This abuse i'm talking about happens once a year but for several months in a row. The tiny boys are fed huge fatty, greasy, filling amounts of food without a break for several months. From they wake up til they go to sleep "if they can even sleep due to massive belly aches and indigestion" The boys agreeingly devour huge amounts in the beginning until they start to hurt and wants to leave. Then they are tied to small recliners specially made for tiny boys with huge growing bellies. The recliners have a hole in the seat where the boys can do their business when needed. There they lie in pain and agony being fed. Sometimes with a tube if they refuse to obey.

The owners will "in their own twisted way" take care of the boys and rub their swollen bellies to help them digest and to soothe the pain to get them to eat more. The owners don't want to wreck the boys tiny systems because then they can't use them next year. This procedure is practiced night and day for several months to stretch and prepare the poor boys bellies, and all this is leading up to one big event. The Anual Tiny Boy Feast.

It is an eating competition for tinys and their owners. The prize... is the skill. The skill to make your tiny boy eat so much that he is just seconds away from bursting "literally" I've heard about it happening but i've never seen it and i hope i never will.

Each owner has a camera connected to a website 24/7. The camera is pointing at the poor boys where curios viewers, in general and other competitors can watch the progress of the growing bellies sitting heavily and painfully on the abused boys.

A panel of judges can also tune in and watch the swollen belly boys and disqualify on the spot if they see any cheating going on. When there's a week left for the actual competition day, the judges will pick out 10 of the most promising boys to enter the competition. Making their owners proud. The poor boys have been force fed for several months. Getting their poor bellies stretched and ready. The last week before the big day, will be spent on starving the boys, deflating their swollen, sore bellies. They need to enter the competion with equal measure and a flat belly so the audience can visually see their bellies growing as they eat. Their stomach lining is still stretched inside with nothing to fill it out and the boys will suffer from terrible hungerpains.

Still with a camera pointing on them, the poor boys will be untied. They will frantically scour around for food while crying in pain to the viewers amusement. The aching boys will be fed one tiny meal a day to deflate their huge bellies. The boys will undoubtedly be starving when they enter the competition and their owners are counting on that.

The 10 boys have been picked and me and my boy are tuned into the website, watching the poor things searching for food, crying, clutching their hungry, aching bellies. My boy is eating potato chips while staring at the screen with a haunted look on his face. He opens his tiny mouth to take a bite of the chip. Then stops, looks at the chip and then at me. With tears in his eyes, he reaches out his little hand holding the chip, towards the screen. My heart breaks. I pick him up and cuddle him into me. He's hugging my hand, letting out a little sob.

He turns his head and looks at the screen with a sad face. I close my tablet.

One week later. Competition day. I have to watch it. Even though it's messed up, i've been watching it for years and i've seen tiny boys return to compete so maybe i'll see some familiar faces this year.

I turn on the tv at excact 6pm. The actual event will go down an hour later but i like to see the opening act such as the owners and boys arriving at the venue. The state of the boys. Some anxious, some excited, some with no clue as to what's going to happen. They interview the owners who will talk about their methods while squeezing and pushing the boys belly. Show & tell, kinda. The boys are completely naked as noting can be restraining on their soon-to-be swollen aching bellies.

There's a market with different food and candy and games for the kids. One popular game is a pop-the-balloon game. you shoot darts at balloons shaped like tiny boys with swollen bellies. Every balloon contains a small gadget that falls out when popped. Kids love it. Morbid.

45 minutes in and the owners are getting their boys ready. They strap them in chairs lined up with a long table in front. They tie their hands behind their backs so the aching, starving boys can't start until the judge says GO. 10 bowls of greasy pasta with heavy sauce are placed in front of the desperate boys. The boys shift and rocks and moans in the chairs trying to reach the food with their little mouths and tongues. The smell makes them drool and smack their tiny lips.

The owners are only allowed to help their boy once during the competition. The competition is over when a boy finishes the whole bowl and don't get sick. If a boy can't finish a bowl, he doesn't win. Simple as that.

My boy was sitting on my lap watching the freakshow. Not quite sure how to react.

The owners all stood behind the boys each with a pair of scissors, ready to cut the rope tying the boys hands together as soon as the judge said GO.

Everybody was quiet. anticipating. The only sound heard was 10 growling, starving bellies.

GO. Scissors cut through the tension and the boys arms flung out to grab the saucy pasta. The poor starving boys were stuffing them selves uncontrolably. They were so hungry, so starved. Their eyes were big and round as they shamelessly munched through the greasy, heavy pasta. Their bellies were starting to swell slightly but they kept stuffing their tiny faces.

Sauce and pasta were flung about as the gluttonous boys shoved handful after handful of messy pasta down their throats. Their bodies were covered with red, chunky sauce. One boy belched loudly but kept stuffing. One more belched and the rest followed. Shoving, belching, farting boys. Bellies growing exponentially larger. Swollen, extended, growling tummies.

One particular boys tummy was growling really loud and with a hurtful belch the boy vomited a good amount of pasta all over himself and back into the bowl. This action made 3 other boys sick and they also vomited all over them selves. Then there was 6 swollen belly boys left. The owners of the 4 crying, still vomiting, boys, Picked them up and left the competition.

As i sat there watching the show, i heard a raspy belch and looked down on my lap. My tiny boy had also gotten sick all over him self. The vomiting boys had affecting him and he had puked up some potato chips. I lifted up the crying cutie, wiped him off and cuddled him into my chest.

The remaining 6 boys was starting to slow down and was looking pretty done and painfully full. One was close to having an empty bowl and his owner went to him and massaged his huge swollen aching belly. The boy whined in pain as his owner tried to forcefully handfeed him. The boys sick belly let out a hurtful, deep growl and a waterfall of liquid diarrhea splattered from his hole onto the ground below him. The sudden forceful push also made the boy sick and he vomited on him self and the disgusted owner. The horrible odor and sight made 2 other boys wretch and vomit. Their owners picked the boys up and left.

The 3 remaining boys was so full and so achy. They were crying and writhing in their chairs. Belies so swollen they couldn't walk or even try to move. They were begging their owners to help them, Give them soothing belly rubs. One lost it and vomited. His owner picked him up and started massaging his swollen aching belly. Praising the tiny boy for making it this far. They left.

The 2 remaining boys sat with 5 chairs between them. They felt so sick and their bellies hurt them so much. Both their owners were providing comfort by rubbing and massaging their extended swollen bellies. One owner started to slowly force the rest of the greasy pasta into his sick boys tiny mouth. The boy got pale and stuck his little tongue out. He vomited but the owned stuck his finger in his mouth to stop the vomit from spilling out. This disqualified them. The owner got frustrated and stuck his thick finger down the poor boys throat while pushing on his swollen belly, making him vomit painfully. Then they took off.

1 swollen, aching, sick belly boy left. His owner was gently massaging his poor bloated belly. The boy was in so much pain and his belly was so enlarged and stuffed to the max. His skin was stretched so thin it had a shine to it. The tiny poor boy was crying. every movement, every breath and sob hurt. The owner reached into the bowl and picked up the last bits of pasta. He held it next to the poor boys mouth. The boy looked at the food, then the owner and with a pathetic look, he shook his tiny head. Pleading. The owner pushed on the poor boys mouth with the food, forcing him to open up. The poor boy slowly chewed his way through the last greasy, saucy mouthful of cold, sticky pasta. He swallowed hard and moaned in pain.

The boy had to keep the food in for 5 minutes to win the competition. The clock started. The audience watched intensely as the poor aching boy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 3 minutes left. The owner held his breath and stared at the boy who was now feeling the full effect of the event. His poor belly was so swollen and so achy like he had never felt it before. He wanted to cry so hard but it hurt too much. He could just sit there, not move and take shallow breaths.

My tiny boy had been watching the show from the safety of my hair. Peeking out once in a while. Hiding his face when scared. This must be like a horror show to him.

WINNER. The judge snapped everybody out of the hypnotic state. Everybody clapped and cheered the remaining poor boy. This sudden outburst startled the sick boy and he expelled all the pasta in hurtful, continous waves of vomit. His owner took pity on the choking, wailing, sick boy and picked him up. He tried to calm his convulsing, aching, swollen belly down by rubbing it gently but the boy couldn't stop vomiting. One heave triggered the next until the boy had nothing more to expell. He then curled up in his owners hands and cried in pain. Belly flattened a bit. They left the event with a medal of honor.

My own little cutie had fallen a sleep on my chest, still hiding in my hair. Never would i ever.

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arcanadreams · 3 years

Text

That time you and your demon boyfriend went viral

hi yes hello obey me fandom!! my name is Gabbi and i have never played a single second of the actual game but i have read enough fanon content for the past year to have this idea swimming around in my head and now i am finally letting this accursed thing out of my brain and putting it in yours

also i’m only doing the brothers because any more than that and i’d have an aneurysm probably. oh and shoutout to @obeythebutler and @beels-burger-babe for inspiring me with their works to feel brave enough to write for this fandom

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer go viral on Asmo’s Devilgram story!

You’re in the kitchen helping Asmo with dinner duty and singing along to one of your playlists of human realm music that you like to show him.

Asmo starts filming your cute little dance while you stir the pot on the stove because you are just adorable!

About ten seconds into him filming, Lucifer appears in the doorway with quite the stern look on his face. You know, the one that comes right before a “MAMMOOOOOON” and strikes fear into the heart of all those with functioning eardrums. That one.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell y’all to shut the fuck up, but then there’s a lull in the music and the eldest can hear your voice ever so slightly above the song’s vocalist and he freezes.

Man stops in his tracks like someone just smacked him in the face with a midair volleyball.

Asmo can be heard stifling a laugh behind his phone.

Lucifer’s face gets so soft and he almost, almost, loosens his metal-rod-through-the-ass posture before you notice him and give a little wave and ask if you and Asmo were being too loud like the considerate darling you are.

Lucifer clears and his throat and says something like, “No, you aren’t. I was just coming to check on how dinner is coming along,” and leaves, after which Asmo immediately presses the post button.

Screenshots of Lucifer’s heart eyes for you go absolutely viral because every demon on Devilgram goes absolutely feral for seeing the eldest demon brother lose his dignified composure. It becomes a meme template. “Get you someone who looks at you like Lucifer looks at MC” and “me at the delivery demon when he shows up with my spicy bat wings” posts become commonplace. (Asmo thinks the memes are totally worth getting strung up with Mammon for laughing at them.)

Mammon:

Much like Lucifer, you and Mammon end up going viral off Asmo’s Devilgram. (Noticing a pattern here?)

He pulls a silly prank on your asses and honestly I don’t know how you fell for it. But hey, they say “idiots in love” for a reason, so...

You and Asmo are sitting in the common room of the House of Lamentation just chillin. Well, he’s chillin, you’re on the floor studying for an upcoming exam.

The video starts in the middle of a conversation you and the avatar of lust were having.

“No, Asmo,” you say. “Mammon and I don’t use pet names for each other.” Now that’s just a darn lie, and every demon and crow within ten miles of Mammon and you together knows it.

“Really? I find that very hard to believe, MC.~”

You sigh in response to Asmo’s teasing. “Okay, he has a lot for me but I’m just not much of a pet name person, y’know?” The rest of the exchange goes like this:

“Oh, I totally get it.” *pause* “Hey MC, what do human world bees make again?”

“Honey.”

Cue a sheepish Mammon sticking his head in the doorway at the bluntness of your tone when you answered Asmo.

“Yeah, babe?” he looks like a puppy left on the side of a highway oh my god hUG HIM-

Asmo turns the camera back to his smug ass face and in the background you can be heard tripping on the damn carpet trying to get up and hug your mans. (”MAMMON GET OVER HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU” “W-WHAT? I THOUGHT YA WERE MAD AT ME?!?!?!?!”)

Leviathan:

Streamer Levi? Streamer Levi.

You guys go viral the first time you make an appearance on one of Levi’s weekly (insert cool Devildom streaming service name here) streams.

It’s completely unintentional. You had been asking him for weeks to play with him on there, but he’s the avatar of envy after all. He doesn’t like sharing his partner, even if it’s with random strangers who have no real access to you.

However, he has his stream on a Thursday instead of a Friday one week, and you come into his room carrying dinner because 1) You didn’t realize he was streaming and 2) No matter what he was doing, the boy needed to eat. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring him dinner, so you had no idea why he was blushing and stammering even more than usual this time in particular. Boy was speaking in beached whale trying to tell you what was wrong.

Then you notice his screen. Oh! “Hi chat!” You wave, setting Levi’s food down on his desk in front of his keyboard. “M-MC!” He full-on whines, slamming a hand over his mouth afterwards when he remembers his viewers could hear that.

Honestly, they’d meme the fuck out of him if it weren’t for the fact that they are FINALLY SEEING HIS HENRY!!! THE MYSTERIOUS MC!!!

Chat is bombarding you with questions while you make Levi eat dinner. And by make him eat dinner, I mean literally feeding this man forkfuls/spoonfuls while he games because you love how flustered he gets when you do that.

Does it impact his score? Absolutely. Does he care? Not really when you’re pampering him like that.

You start answering chat’s questions about you while he’s chewing so he can’t tell you to stop LMAO-

You’re a natural on stream. The VOD becomes the most popular on Levi’s account in a matter of hours and soon cute highlights compilations of you and him on that stream start making the rounds on Devildom Twitter.

Satan:

There was buildup to Satan going viral, similar to Levi in a way.

Satan does have a Devilgram, but it’s basically a white woman’s Instagram with added book reviews for variety. Unless you’re a reader his account is pretty boring: candles, books, fireplaces, and cats.

However, after you two started reading together fairly often he began posting pictures of your legs draped over his while you sat together. They’d always be captioned with vague ass pretentious literary criticism.

This goes on for months, and he gains a lot of (horny) followers after the leg pics start up. He doesn’t really get why but you both joke that it’s because you have some damn nice legs and I mean neither of you are complaining about the new following.

You two go viral when he finally shows your face, entirely by accident.

The post is a video, which is already strange for him and grabs attention. In it, you’re scoffing and reading an excerpt of a book, mocking its understanding of female anatomy.

“I’m quoting here, Satan: ‘her breasts bouncing around like giant pacmen.’ I’M SORRY?? THAT ISN’T HOW BOOBS WORK SIR. WHY ARE MEN ALLOWED TO WRITE?”

(fun fact that is a very real quote from a very real book I really read last month pls save me)

Originally the camera is focused on your body, with your head out of frame to protect your privacy, but your righteous anger made Satan laugh. Like, a real laugh. The one that makes you and everyone in earshot wonder if he truly was never an angel cause he sure as hell laughs like one but anyway-

When he threw his head back, his DDD angled up just a tad without him noticing, and your face was in view for like .2 seconds. Screenshots of it are making the rounds on Devilgram almost immediately: FINALLY THE LEGS’ OWNER HAS BEEN FOUND.

Satan apologizes profusely but you honestly find it funny and you two opt to just start taking selfies while reading with both of your faces in them from now on.

Asmodeus:

I’m gonna be real with you: you and Asmo go viral all the time. Pretty much everything Asmo posts can be considered viral because of his social media following and his status as one of the seven avatars of sin.

However, there are some fairly cute highlights to be pointed out among the times you were both featured in a post that blew up.

Your favorite is probably that time Asmo livestreamed on of you guys’ ‘Nail Nites,’ as you call them.

You’re both on the floor, doing your nails and kicking your feet back and forth while talking to chat. A lot of the questions are about your relationship, and there’s a lot of flirting back and forth between the two of you.

A particular clip of the stream does blow the fuck up on Devilgram, though, when someone screen records it and posts it with a bunch of heart emojis edited over it.

“’What colors do you think best describe each other?’ Ooo, that’s a good one, chat!” Asmo claps his hands together excitedly, making sure to be careful of his nails.

Pretty much everyone expected you to say pink, but you surprised both your boyfriend and your viewers when, after a pensive few moments, you replied with “Hmm...probably yellow or orange.”

“Can I ask why, darling?” Asmo tilts his head in confusion. I mean, yeah, those colors look good on him, but he doesn’t wear them often so he’s wondering about your thought process.

“Well, in the human world those colors often represent happiness, optimism, and positivity. You’re always the cheerful presence I need in my life when things get hard, so you have the vibe of those colors.”

Asmo proceeds to burst into tears and hug you, messing up both of your nails and prolonging the stream since you both have to start over. But neither of you particularly care.

Fun fact: Asmo has the clip that demon made of that portion of the stream saved on his DDD and watches it whenever he feels sad.

Beelzebub:

Beel and you probably go the most viral out of everybody. Like this moment is an entire phenomenon across the Devildom internet.

It’s a video, or well, multiple videos, taken at the end of a Fangol game that Beel’s team had just won. Everyone is cheering and going crazy, yourself included, and you just really wanted to congratulate your boyfriend.

So, like the rational person you are, you elect to climb up onto the railing of the bleachers and wave to get his attention.

You were absolutely fine up there, and sat all comfortably motioning Beel over to you. He notices, of course, and jogs over, standing right beneath you and looking up. (Back where you were sitting, Mammon is screeching like a hyena in heat and Belphie, who is laying down, has one eye open to glare at him. The youngest knows Beel would never let you hurt yourself; you’re fine.)

A bunch of assorted demons at the game has started filming while you were sat atop the railing since you were rather noticeable. Therefore, there’s a shit ton of different angles of the adorable events that follow:

You slide off the railing, landing right in Beel’s waiting arms bridal style. You’ve got this brilliant smile on your face as you pull his helmet off. None of the DDDs filming can hear it over the crowd noise, but Beel asks you why you just went through all that trouble and you tell him it’s because you wanted to tell him how proud you are.

Soft boy’s chest puffs up and he smiles this big cheesy smile at you reach up to run a hand through his hair. You feel him practically purr at the contact, and with a laugh you pull him in and plant a big ole smooch on him.

The crowd, at least those of them that can see, scream. Everyone is running high on adrenaline and happy emotions; something that cute causes a ruckus!! When you pull away Beel proceeds to put you on his shoulders and you celebrate with him and the rest of his team.

The videos of you two being adorable go completely viral and there are some threads dedicated to stockpiling every single angle taken of the event. Beel is completely oblivious to the attention but you have a lot of them saved on your DDD.

Belphegor:

If you think Belphegor has any sort of social media presence whatsoever then you are sorely mistaken. (Well okay he actually does run some anonymous troll accounts to meme on Lucifer’s posts but that’s neither here nor there-)

Therefore, naturally, you two go viral off of Asmo’s Devilgram.

Okay so someone in the obey me tag the other say headcanoned that Belphie will go out of his way to nap in ridiculous places and my brain really took that and RAN WITH IT.

So what happens is that Belphie will fall asleep in the fucking weirdest places. I’m talking on top of the fridge, underneath the dinner table, on top of bookshelves...you name it, he has slept there, no matter the effort it takes to get there in the first place.

And, ever since you two started dating, you would join him. Sometimes it involved putting yourself at risk of great bodily harm, but the little smile he gave when you he saw you fucking scaling the countertop to reach him made it worth it.

So anyway, since Beel adores the both of you to no end, he takes pictures whenever he sees you two napping together, whether or not it is in a crazy place. He sends these to the family group chat because he thinks they’re adorable.

Over a span of weeks to months, Asmo has built up a stock of images of you and Belphie cuddles up in seemingly impossible places. Once he has about ten or so, he posts a compilation of them to his Devilgram with some cheesy ass caption like “The things we do for love <3″.

They become a meme SO QUICKLY. Like UNBELIEVABLY quickly.

The picture of you and Belphie sleeping on top of a bookshelf, in particular, is a big hit. Memes abound.

“If my girl doesn’t climb up a bookshelf to cuddle my ass, she don’t love me.” “Get yourself a partner who scales bookshelves just to be with your ass.” Etc etc...Belphie doesn’t give a shit but you laugh at a lot of them so he sees that as a good outcome.

#IM SO HAPPY TO HAVE FINALLY WRITTEN THIS #obey me #my writing #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #posts

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bubblesuga · 3 years

Text

Mahina || Part 1

Summary: Jungkook couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something drawing him to you. Like the moon tugs at the tides, he needed to be beside you. genre: smut, fluff, angst word count: 4,626 tags: idol!au, fantasy!au

When Jungkook awoke this morning, something was... different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the air in his room seemed to have shifted slightly. He felt lighter on his feet, a sudden bounce to his step while he pulled himself off of the bed and towards the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth as usual, carefully scrubbing his tongue and admiring his reflection in the mirror. The eyebrow piercing was a good edition, he thinks. It accentuates his high brow and sparkles underneath even the dimmest light. Spritzing himself with cologne, he opens the bathroom door just in time.

"Jungkook, I made breakfast! Hurry up!"

Smiling to himself, he trots down the stairs of the far too large penthouse he and his band mates bought a couple years ago. He doesn't mind sharing with 6 other people, though. Having grown up with no siblings, he enjoys the dynamics at play when he speaks to the members. They're all his brothers, co-workers, family... He couldn't have asked for a better turn out when it came to finding a career path.

Yoongi is standing in the kitchen when Jungkook walks in, the smell of pork and kimchi filling his nose. Thanking his hyung, he grabs a bowl and starts filling up.

"You seem happy this morning," Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Jungkook shrugs, "I just woke up in a really good mood. I feel like--" he takes a bit of his food, then speaks with his mouth full, "--something amazing is going to happen today."

"We just have rehearsals?" Yoongi's statement comes off as more of a question.

"Exactly." Jungkook says, continuing to munch on his food. Yoongi looks at the younger man and shakes his head, continuing to fry meat for the rest of the members.

"Hey, did Namjoon come home last night?" Seokjin asks as he walks into the kitchen. He takes a spot beside Jungkook on the counter, reaching into his bowl and grabbing a piece of pork belly. Jungkook attempts to push his hand away but Seokjin smacks it and grabs the meat anyway.

Yoongi shakes his head again, "Nah. He stayed at the studio last night, said something about a last minute inspiration."

Jungkook has noticed Namjoon's lack of attentiveness recently. It seems as though his head is always filled with potential themes and lyrics and beats, much more so than even in the early days of the band. He's curious about his inspiration as of late but Namjoon doesn't seem to want to give away his methods any time soon.

"He's been doing that a lot lately." Jungkook thinks outloud.

"More power to him," Seokjin says, "man works his ass off and it benefits all of us."

Yeah, it definitely does.

~*~*~

"5, 6, 7-"

Hoseok's counting is cut off by the music blasting again. It's the third run through of the new choreography, Jungkook is center and carefully watches the rest of his hyungs in the mirror. He moves to the left, following Hoseok's lead and smiling as he notices a mis-step on Jimin's part. Jimin throws his head back and yells, lifting his shirt up and wiping some of the sweat that's accumulated on his brow.

"It's okay, Jiminie," Hoseok sings, "this shit is hard."

Seokjin nods in agreement, "Yeah, what the hell happened to a laid back choreography for this come back?"

"It's the last one of the year. We gotta go out with a bang." Jungkook turns back to look at Namjoon, who chugs water in the corner of the room. "Speaking of big come backs, are you working on your mixtape?"

Namjoon laughs, "Nah, definitely not. I'm trying to get a couple more songs for the album."

"Don't we have like 14 tracks?" Taehyung speaks for the first time since rehearsal started.

"16 is better than 14." Namjoon smiles, listening to Hoseok as he calls everyone over again.

"One more time. 5, 6-"

It's then that the doors burst open and Hyun enters in. "And this is the rehearsal room containing the 7 men you will be photographing."

Jungkook's eyes travel to the person his manager is talking to, and he has to hold back a gasp. He feels the way his jaw drops, but he's unable to close his mouth while he looks at you. God, you're gorgeous. Your hair cascades down your back and your clothes cling to your body in all the right ways. Jungkook struggles to tear his eyes away, but once he sees your smile he realizes there's no way he can turn away. You're literally glowing, with god-like shining eyes. Who are you?

"Boys, this is _____. She's in charge of photography and will be around to film Bangtan Bombs, behind the scenes, or anything you all want filmed and made into content."

Jungkook repeats your name in his head five times. He whispers it to himself once while everyone else heads to you to shake your hand. Jungkook stands back, finally blinking his eyes.

You step forward after having shook the hands of everyone else, "And you're Jungkook," you smile again, "I like your tattoos. Glad you're finally willing to show them."

"T- tattoos..." Jungkook mutters pathetically as he takes your outstretched hand. You giggle, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Well, anyway. It was nice to meet you all. I'm excited to work closely with every one of you." your words are met with a chorus of 'same!' from everyone except for Jungkook.

Hyun puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you out of the room, continuing on the tour of the HYBE building. Jungkook stares after you, the doorway now long empty but he couldn't look away. You were, by far, the most beautiful woman he has ever come across. With your simple torn jeans and black t-shirt, he feels you could pull off anything you put on your body.

It's not until Yoongi speaks does Jungkook finally tear his eyes away, "Could you have been any creepier?"

"What?"

Jimin bursts into laughter, his frustration with the choreography long gone, "You were-" he takes a deep breath in between laughter, "you were staring at her like she was the last woman on the planet!"

"W- what?" Jungkook stammers.

Jimin doesn't respond, only laughing louder as he falls to the ground. Jungkook can see the hidden smirks of the rest of the members, turning his to look at everyone, "What the fuck just happened?"

"Love at first sight?" Taehyung suggests.

"More like love at first drool." Seokjin begins laughing before he even finishes his sentence, causing the rest of the members to groan at his joke.

Jungkook doesn't react to Seokjin though, as he turns to look back at the empty doorway. If love at first sight is a real thing, Jungkook just experienced it to the fullest extent.

~*~*~

Jungkook manages to continue the rest of rehearsal without a problem, except for the way his mind kept traveling back to you. Saying your name in his head again, he washes up in the gym showers. He thinks back to the way your skin seemed to be literally glowing to him, and your bright white teeth hypnotizing him.

Never in his life has he had such a short conversation with someone that had such an impact. He wants to learn everything about you, your passions, the music you like, the books you read. He hopes that you enjoy some of the same things he does, so he has an excuse to talk to you.

Though his interest in you is certainly piqued, he has to keep in mind that you are, essentially, his employee, and fantasizing about your employee is more than inappropriate.

Fantasizing might not be the right word, but he can't help and imagine conversations between the two of you. Your voice is so pretty, it's light but carries through the room. You make sure your presence is known, though with the way you shine you didn't have to try hard. He smiles to himself, closing his eyes and rinsing off the conditioner from hair. Then, he wonders what your hair looks like when it's wet.

Okay, Jungkook. That's enough.

He shakes the water off his head and wraps a towel around his body. Exiting the shower, he realizes he forgot his bag in the dance room and sighs. Checking the time on his phone, he realizes that it's after 9 pm. The odds of anyone other than the members being here is pretty slim so he can just walk his way to the rehearsal room and change in there, right?

Right.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he walks out of the gym bathroom and strolls down the hall. He scrolls through his phone while he walks, rounding the corner and hearing your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. I'm very excited to properly start tomorrow."

"We're excited to have you," Jungkook peeks his head around the corner and watches Hyun bow to you, "your work is incredible and I know Taehyung in particular loves your shooting style."

What? Taehyung knows her? Jungkook must have missed that earlier when he couldn't stop staring at you.

"Yeah! It still blows my mind that one of the bangtan boys followed my work," you let out a small, somewhat embarrassed giggle, "thank god for Instagram."

You and Hyun share a laugh, followed by a goodbye. Jungkook gasps as he sees you turn in his direction, rushing to a small doorway and pushing himself up against the wall. You can't see him like this, not already. He's nearly naked and he knows this towel isn't big enough to cover himself as well as he should in front of a stranger, so he holds his breath as your foot steps become closer... and closer... and-

"Hey Jungkook."

Fuck.

Jungkook exhales a breath and moves to tighten the towel around his waist even more. You're eyes are not scanning his body like he thought you would be. Of course, Jungkook knows that sounds cocky of him to say but he can't help but assume that that would be the outcome of this situation. Either way, his face still burns when your eyes meet his. Those gorgeous, glowing eyes.

"Were ya hiding?" you laugh, tilting your head to the side, and Jungkook realizes that he's still pressed up against the wall.

"I- I, uh-" come on Jungkook, get it together, "Sorry. I didn't want you to see me naked."

"Oh please. When humans are naked, they're at their purest forms. It's natural, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." you smile brightly, moving a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. Your phrasing is odd, but he doesn't question it. Instead, he swallows, "You're right, but I'm sure you wouldn't have been okay with my dick just hangin' out. Neither would the security watching the cameras."

You laugh, a proper laugh that doesn't seem to be masked by something else, and Jungkook realizes it's melodic. A fine tune singing into his ears as one of the most beautiful songs he has ever heard. It's soft, breathy, and makes him want to make you laugh for the rest of eternity.

"Either way," you say after a moment, the hint of humor still in your voice, "nothing to be ashamed of. I'll see you tomorrow, Jungkook."

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you wave and waving back as you carry your feet towards the elevators.

~*~*~

The air was even lighter this morning, and Jungkook can't help but think you play a part in his bright mood.

Following the conversation yesterday, Jungkook walked with a grin on his face to grab his clothes. You're incredibly charismatic, an stark difference to Jungkook's usual shy and laid back personality. Despite your conversations together being minimal, Jungkook feels you and him are going to be close.

Jungkook hops out of bed and styles his hair carefully. Checking his phone as he brushes his teeth, he's received a text from Taehyung apologizing because he had already left. The house sounds still, he remembers Yoongi and Seokjin opted at staying at their respective apartments tonight, wanting to be a little closer to home. Namjoon probably stayed at the studio again and Jimin and Hoseok more than likely left with Taehyung. He shrugs, making a quick protein shake and grabbing a banana before heading out of the door.

As he drives to work, he makes note at how much more productive the members have been these days. Not that they never were, but the usual slump of exhaustion that follows months of continuous promotions, rehearsals, and recording doesn't seem to be hitting anyone this time around. Surely, the explanation is the high everyone is riding from the success of Butter and Permission To dance in the west. It's motivated everyone, including Jungkook himself.

He pulls into the parking garage, rides the elevator up to the 13th floor, and steps off only to be stopped by Hoseok.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck and squeezes him tight.

"Hoseokie!" Jungkook mocks, giving a pat to the older one's back. Hoseok pulls away with a chuckle, "I guess _____ is doing behind the scene shoots today. Something about wanting to catch us in our element."

"Oh? Like individual shoots?"

"Yeah," he smiles, "she's with Yoongi in his studio right now. She told me to tell everyone to choose a thing they do on a daily basis that might be interesting to see for ARMY."

"Should I work out?" Jungkook smirks. Hoseok rolls his eyes, patting Jungkook's pecs,

"You work out enough." Smiling, he begin walking towards the commons area,

"I'm almost to where I want to be." "Whatever Jungkook, you bully us enough already." Hoseok pats Jungkook's head and walks away, leaving Jungkook to sit on the couches for a moment.

He picks up his phone and scrolls through Weverse and Twitter for a moment. Despite not being as active as people wish he could be, he does keep up with what everyone is talking about. Currently he sees excitement about their online concert from last year coming to DVD, and "JUNGKOOK'S ABS" is trending.

Yeah, he's definitely going to work out for his behind the scenes.

Holding his phone up, he snaps a quick selfie and posts it to Twitter. Once a month seems to be a good formula.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice enters the room, "She's gonna shoot with Namjoon then you."

"Ah," Jungkook stands, "time to get nice and sweaty for ARMY."

"You're such a freak." Yoongi laughs, watching Jungkook leave the room.

Jungkook begins on the treadmill, listening to music and trying not to think about the fact that you're going to be photographing him while he's working out. He feels somewhat dumb, being so incredibly invested in your opinions of him already, but like yesterday proved, there was something about you that drew him in.

He speeds up the treadmill, his calves burning and his breathing quickening while he runs. It's incredible, the feeling of absolute bliss he feels after a run. When his muscles ache and his chest feels clear, he feels most at peace. Though, peace isn't difficult to come across these days. Even with the sadness of not being able to perform live like he wants to, it's not as looming as it was before. It's incredibly exhilarating to wake up not feeling like the end is near. It happened so suddenly, he's not sure what changed.

At the beginning, when they had to cancel the tour and stay in Korea, Jungkook felt as though life was never going to be the same. It was dark for everyone. He remembers Jimin crying in the bathroom after the cancellation, which caused Jungkook to start crying as well. He scrolled through social media for hours, reading the anger and frustration at those who had to return their tickets. It pained him, to see such a bleak view of the fans he adored.

Now that it's been close to 2 years, Jungkook has learned to-- for lack of a better term-- live with it. He wakes up every day and tries his hardest to live, and that's all you can do when your passion in life is ripped away from you due to an ongoing worldwide pandemic.

The gym doors slide open and Jungkook looks in the mirror to see you.

You have a camera around your neck, Jungkook recognizes it as a Canon. You close the door behind you and stop him as Jungkook starts to slow down the treadmill.

"Pretend like I'm not even here." you nearly whisper, and Jungkook has to stop himself from choking on his spit. Your voice sounded almost sultry. He can't tell if that was his imagination or if it was intentional on your part.

Jungkook shakes his head, turning up the speed just a little bit more.

He hears the shutter on your camera clicking, the action setting in full effect as he runs. You move around him, being sure not to get yourself in the mirror of the shots. The only noises in the room are his breathing and the sounds of his feet hitting the runway. It's rough, his chest heaving the more he pushes himself, but he's more interested in the way you seem to float around the room, or the fact that your hands seem dwarfed by the large camera.

It makes him wonder what your hands would look like on him.

A necklace dangles from your neck, it's gold and shines under the lights of the gym. It falls gently into the crevice of your chest, what looks like a golden moon on the end of the chain.

Again, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his.

"You gotta stop looking at the camera." you giggle.

He didn't even realize his eyes were following you. Suddenly, it's like a wave of confidence washes over him. Confidence that he was not ready for.

He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I'm not looking at the camera." Why is he saying this?

"Yes you are," you grin, "I have like 7 pictures in a row of you looking directly at the camera."

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm looking at the person holding the camera." Shut up, Jungkook. Stop talking!

"Oh?" you laugh, "what's catching your eye?"

"The necklace." what the fuck? He basically admitted to staring at your tits!

"The necklace that's right in between my tits?"

He laughs, you snap a picture.

"I guess so, I'm sorry." The usual nervousness that he would feel at an admission like that is non-existent. He feels comfortable enough to talk to you like this, and judging by the way you smile, you're comfortable with it too.

"No need to be sorry," you snap another picture, "I know they draw attention."

Jungkook nods, "They certainly do."

"What do you like about them?"

The question throws Jungkook for a loop but he doesn't let that show.

"They're perky," he explains, stopping the treadmill, "and your shirts show off the perfect amount to leave some to the imagination."

"Ah, so you're imagining my tits?"

"Yes."

You smirk, walking away. For a moment, Jungkook is scared he said too much, but it's very quickly washed away by the sound of the lock turning. "So," you begin, "you're saying that if I took off my shirt, you wouldn't be opposed to looking at me?"

Jungkook shakes his head, "I also wouldn't be opposed to touching you."

"Well," you slip off your shirt, "I'm ready."

Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his gym shorts at the sight of your bra. Of your fucking bra.

Despite the blood rushing to his cock, he shakes his head, "Oh come on, darling. You know that's not enough for me."

"Your shirt first, buddy." your eyes follow Jungkook as he grips the hem of his shirt and pulls it off. Now that there's verbal consent, your eyes roam all over his torso. He's ripped, Jungkook knows this, but under your gaze he feels like a meal. Like he's about to get devoured by you, and he can't say he's not enjoying the idea.

You reach behind you, unhooking your bra and allowing it to fall to the ground.

Jungkook's eyes widen at sight, stepping closer to you and falling to his knees. He places his nose against your torso, inhaling your scent. The sensuality of the small gasp that left your mouth fueled Jungkook. He grabs your hands and pulls you down to his level, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It's rough and heated, all teeth and tongue. He's not used to being this way, to feeling almost primal in his movements. He gnaws at your bottom lip, eliciting another moan from you. It's high pitched and nearly whiny, proving that you're suddenly filled with as much need as he is.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Jungkook states, "right here. Right now."

"Please." you toss your head back, falling onto the padded floors of the gym. Jungkook follows suit, kissing his way down your body until he reaches your navel. Again, he presses his nose into you and inhales, you smell so damn good.

He keeps smelling, inhaling your scent as he undoes the buttons of your jeans. The less clothing there, the stronger your scent becomes. He feels insatiable, nearly ripping off your panties to get to your center.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," Jungkook groans, his voice deep with want, with need. Taking a single finger up your slit, he draws it back and sucks your juices clean, "and you taste as good as you smell."

You stare up at him with hooded eyes, holding yourself up on your elbows and spreading your legs as wide as you can. "Now that you've had a taste you might as well finish it."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice, diving into your soaked folds with his tongue. He moves fast but also meticulously, being sure to take note of all the places that make you moan a little louder, sink a little deeper into him. Your hand reaches down and snakes its way through his hair, tugging at the roots.

At that point, Jungkook begins to kick off his shorts without pulling away.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to fuck you," you moan in between words, "you always look so good everywhere you go."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckles, "did you imagine fucking me before you got hired here?"

You nod, "I couldn't help it, I knew you'd be good."

As Jungkook manages to get his shorts off, he grips ahold of his aching member. Pulling up to his knees, his thumb doesn't stop rubbing harsh circles against your clit.

"That's hot," Jungkook breathes, "I've been wanting to take you since I first saw you."

"Then do it." you demand, and a flip switches in Jungkook's brain.

He pulls his fingers away from you and leans forward, "Taste yourself."

You don't hesitate to take his fingers into your mouth, Jungkook feeling your tongue dance across the pads of his fingers. Feeling himself twitch, he strokes himself for a little bit of relief while you suck.

"Taste good?" He questions.

"Delicious."

"Good girl." He murmurs, leaning down and connecting your lips with his again. As he does so, he runs the head of his cock against your slit, enjoying the gasp you let out every time he brushes against your clit. You feel so warm, so inviting. He can taste you so well, he wants nothing more than to dive in.

So he does.

Pressing into you slowly, he feels your warmth envelope him. Your legs wrap around his hips and guide him in all the way. When he slips all the way in, you both pull away for a moan.

"So fucking good. So tight." He moves his hips achingly slow, enjoying the noises of content leaving your lips. Your moans spur him on as your tightness engulfs him yet again. He leans down and presses a kiss to your neck, your hot skin nearly burning his lips, "I don't want to hurt you."

You shake your head, "You can't hurt me. I promise."

Jungkook isn't sure what takes over him at this point, but he feels his lips begin to thrust harshly into you. He doesn't process the rest of the world, the only thing that's certain is you. You're everything that he needs to focus on now, your whines, your moans, the feeling of your legs guiding him in and out of you. He wants to take you here over and over again until the end of time, and he's never felt that about anyone before in his life.

Your lips are beginning to bruise from the rough kisses he's been laying on you, so he takes a gentle approach and sucks on your jawline. Every few thrusts, he rests his forehead against yours. Then he moves again. Then rests.

"Tell me how good I feel." you whisper against his lips, breathy.

"Baby," Jungkook's brows knit together in pleasure, "you feel so good around me. So warm. I want to cum in you and fill you up so bad. Do-n't stop squeezing- fuck."

Jungkook abandons the pace he tried to keep and slams into you, pulling you on top of him and lifting you up and down on his cock. You let out a scream as he reaches a point he hasn't touched before, your cunt tightening exponentially around him.

He latches his mouth onto your nipples, the sensitive peaks hardening against his tongue. Your nails rake down his chest while you grind against him, your ass smacking against his thighs while he begins thrusting upward.

His hands grip your hips harshly, sure enough to leave bruises by his fingertips. He feels his orgasm approaching quickly, but he needs you to cum first. He need to feel you cum around him. "Fuck," he growls through clenched teeth, "cum. I need you to cum. Cum around me, please please please!"

"I'm gonna- I'm-" your sentence is cut off by your orgasm taking over, clenching deliciously around Jungkook and pushing him over the edge. His hips stutter and he releases into you, your warmth mixing with his as he collapses onto the ground. You're both silent for a while, your chests heaving as you try to calm down. Jungkook leans up, keeping you in a hug as your knees move to either side of his hips. Neither of you make a move to pull apart, Jungkook softening inside of you but the sensitivity feels so good.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, glancing behind you and towards the mirrors. On the inner edge of each of your shoulder blades, lay two large scars. They're old, pink in color now. Jungkook reaches a finger up to trace the scars but is stopped by a knock on the door.

"Hey, I'm ready when you are _____!" Jimin's voice sounds through the gym, muffled by the door.

"Shit." You whisper, "shit, shit, shit!"

You quickly pull off of him, beginning to slip your panties and bra back on.

Jungkook flinches at the sudden loss of warmth around him, looking down at his cock and seeing a mixture of his and your cum coating his thighs. "Don't you need to clean up?" he whispers.

"I'll stop by the bathroom on the way." you murmur, now fully dressed, "thank you for that, by the way." you wink, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing a hard kiss against him. Then, you're out the door.

Jungkook is left naked on the floor, confused, and wanting to ask why exactly you have asymmetrical scars on your back.

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook x reader angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x you

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keisurou · 3 years

Text

build it up

(ft. koutarou bokuto)

minors dni.

wc: 3.2k

Warnings: semi-public sex (in the locker room?), doggy style, mirror sex, mutual masturbation, blowjob, atsumu x kiyoomi ship, atsumu being a lil’ shit and drilling ideas into bo’s head, not edited.

So my friends and I were fangirling discussing and apparently personality-wise, I’m basically a mix of Akaashi and Kenma, and it kinda makes sense because my top two comfort characters are Kuroo and Bokuto. Anyways, this is just a lil’ thing I wanted to try out, and again, this is not edited (i did edit it, and then my laptop just DIED so now its all gone. *sobs*) - does anyone want to be a beta-reader?? Because I literally went on a road trip with my family and just typed this in the car the entire time while my brothers screamed nonsense bs next to me. Hmu if you’re actually interested :)

“Babe,” Bokuto murmurs into your neck, drawing out the word, his hair still damp and smoothed down from his shower not too long ago. You’re trying to focus on the pile of research assignments in front of you, but the way your fiance is rubbing circles on your back has you rereading the same sentence multiple times. “I heard something I wanna try,”

“Hmm?” You hum noncommittally, encouraging him to continue, but you don’t look away from the papers. He frowns, frustration clawing at his belly and lets out a small grunt as he paws at your thighs exposed by your silk pyjamas. When he doesn’t speak, you turn to him and run your fingers through his damp locks before ruffling them slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you tired? You have practice tomorrow morning, don’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, his gaze locked on your lips and the way your tongue peeks out ever so slightly to wet your bottom lip only for a second. Bokuto has been strung tight lately; he had just returned from a training camp after being away from you for an entire week. He had been so excited to come home to you; he missed your smiles, your soft agreements, the way you came apart and lost yourself under his touch. But instead, he came home to you fully decked out in your ‘no sex’ gear. That’s right, from the ten piles of papers you had to mark, and a brand new box of red felt tips, you were ready for five days of no sleep, no fun, and absolutely nothing frisky with Bokuto. Needless to say, he almost cried when he first stepped into the apartment.

But now, with only ten research papers left, you were practically finished. “Babe, let’s cuddle tonight,” You give him a look, and he deflates only a little before quickly adding, “I’ll be good, I swear,”

“Kou-kun,” you lean in and give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he’s so touch starved that he sits motionless, absorbing the way your lips brush against his skin for as long as he can. “You’re always good.” You move away, and he quickly grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “But if I finish up here today, I won’t be able to see you play tomorrow,”

He’s silent as he contemplates this and then promptly hooks a hand around your waist and pulls you to him. His lips slant over yours, and it only takes you a second to melt into the kiss, hands flying to the hem of his t-shirt to drag him closer. Your lips are warm, and he can taste the sweetness of cherries from the dizzying brush of your tongue. He leans back against the sofa, and you clamber onto his lap, your softness meeting the hard planes of his body as you kiss along the smooth column of his neck. There is nothing sexier than the way you press a kiss before nibbling along his jaw, and his hands automatically find their way under your sleep shirt to squeeze at a naked breast.

You let out a strangled moan and immediately press your body to his chest, halting his movements. Bokuto’s eyes widen as he tentatively brushes a thumb on the underside of your breast, only for you to shudder. “Koutarou, wait,” you pant softly, grabbing at his arm to pull it from your chest. “I’m really sensitive today, and it hurts if you squeeze too roughly,”

“Why?”

“I’m on my period,” you say simply, and he blurts out the first thing that pops into his head.

“So, no sex?”

You shake your head, and his erection throbs painfully in his shorts as it strains against the material, somehow understanding the situation but not exactly cooperating. You get up to clear the table, and when you stretch, he can clearly see the way your nipples poke through the flimsy fabric, almost as if begging for his attention. He’s up, wrapping his arms around your waist and breathing in the scent of your hair. “Can I massage them?”

You pause, and when you don’t respond for a few seconds, he cups one breast through the shirt, palming it softly until you melt under his touch. “O-Okay, but no sex,”

He murmurs out a thank you, his golden eyes sparkling, and he’s glad you don’t question his enthusiasm. Once in the shared bedroom, he strips your shirt off your body watches with hooded eyes as you crawl over to join him at the centre of the bed.

His fingers brush against a peaked nipple before slowly pushing down on the nub, and you let out a soft whine before cupping your other breast yourself, rotating the flesh in small circles.

Bokuto briefly wonders how long it could take to make you cum just from your tits, and he turns it into a personal mission for tonight. He pulls at the free nipple, and you gasp sharply. Your reaction brings a lazy grin on his face, and he brings you to sit on top of him, the outline of his erection pressing against your ass so he can feel at least some sort of friction. He swats your hand away and pulls a nipple into the heat of his mouth, suckling the flesh softly as your thighs tremble around his waist. The first contact of his teeth against your sensitive nipple has your breath hitching deliciously as you chant his name, and he does it again, wanting to commit the sound to memory.

“K-Koutarou, please. I’m going to-”

He switches to the other breast and bites down on the nipple without warning. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest as he soothes the abused skin with long strokes of his tongue. The way you pull at his hair sends sharp jolts of pain, and you realise that each time you tug at his locks, he puts his teeth to work.

You tug at his hair again, and he smiles as he bites down for a second. He takes satisfaction in the way you tremble and grind against him when he tugs at a hardened bud with his fingers, twisting and rolling the nub until it borders on pain and pleasure. He’s going to make you come like this even if he doesn’t get any sleep.

Minutes later, you tremble, your hands feebly pushing at Bokuto, and he leans back only slightly. He watches with wide eyes as you roll your hips, the movements unstable and shaky, almost frenzied. Your fingers squeeze at a breast and pull at the tip of the other, and you let out a breathy moan at the sharp streak of pain that quickly turns into pleasure. “K-Kou-kun. I’m s-so close. So close.” You whine out in both pleasure and frustration and reach for his hands so he can help you finish the job. “Please,”

You don’t notice the way Bokuto’s erection grows bigger from under you. He loves it when you beg for him like this, eyes glazed with lust without a care in the world except for how quickly you’ll come. It’s so intoxicating, and you look so desperate that he can’t help but want to tease you until you’re ruined. But tonight, there was no way; you wouldn’t be getting any help from him until he gets off on the image of you sobbing for his fingers and his tongue.

He watches as your eyes widen when you see him take out his cock and grip himself at the base. The tip is red and weeping, and when he smears the fluid all over the head, he’s delighted to see the way you lick your lips and lean forward, entranced. “What is it, puppy?” He purrs and grips himself at the base before moving up to the tip and coming back down again. The way your eyes follow the movement is incredibly sexy, but it’s the tremble in your lower lip that has him growing harder. “F-Fuck. Shit, you want my cock? I thought you said no sex.”

There’s a whine of frustration, and at this point, he can’t tell if it’s from you or him, but the way you rub your thighs together and tug at your nipples has him lifting his hips, craving the friction he can’t have. There are now tears in your eyes as you sniffle. For a fleeting moment, Bokuto considers sliding your underwear to the side; your period be damned, and fucking you into the mattress until the bedsheet is soaked with your tears. His cock twitches in agreement at the mental image, and a shudder goes down his spine.

Instead, he gives himself a few more rough strokes and closes his eyes, listening to your moans echo in the room before he groans, loud and low, as his release lands messily on the bedsheets.

Bokuto is restless at practice the morning after, and everyone knows this because his performance was downright terrible. On the rare occasions when he did score a point, there was no hey, hey, hey, no burst of confidence, no nothing.

There had been days on end where the team would have done anything short of murder to shut Bokuto up, but now that he had, they had no idea what to do. Well, except Atsumu, of course. The setter sauntered over, his lips stretched into a cocky smirk. “Bokkun, what are ya mopin’ about for? Did yer girlfriend leave ya all needy?”

Bokuto grumbled sourly at the blonde before promptly turning away. “I’m not moping.” And when Atsumu raises an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue, Bokuto only sighs and leans back on his elbows. Surprisingly, that’s all the setter needs to understand the situation and begins to laugh.

The entire situation is infuriatingly unfair, especially since it was, in fact, Atsumu who had drilled in the idea of having sex in semi-public places. Bokuto usually didn’t care to listen to the gossip of others much, unless it was related to volleyball or you. During the training camp, the blond setter had been describing how hot it was to do it in a semi-public place where there was a high chance of getting caught, much to Kiyoomi’s chagrin. Bokuto genuinely cannot bring himself to care because obviously sex feels good all the time, so why would doing it outside make it any different? Atsumu had just tutted when Bokuto explained this to him before asking him about you, and that definitely got his attention.

“Bokkun, do ya know what kinks yer girlfriend has?”

“She doesn’t have any,” Bokuto’s response had been immediate, and Atsumu just stared, wondering if the hyperactive male was just pulling his leg. But he wasn’t - Bokuto genuinely knew you didn’t have any because of course you would tell him as soon as you discovered one, right?

“She seriously never told ya?”

“Maybe she just doesn’t know.”

Atsumu had spluttered indignantly to his excuse, equal parts horrified and insulted that Bokuto could even think about suggesting such a thing.

Needless to say, ever since then, Bokuto has been trying to find out more of the things that make you tick in bed. He’d already found two last night, and his body was already tense, eager to find out more today. Especially since you said you’d be visiting after handing back all the papers to your students. They all wrapped up practice, with Meian giving Bokuto extra laps around the gym. By the time he had finished the required amount, Hinata and Meian were about to leave but had stopped to greet you for a few minutes. The sight of you leaning against the door, your lips pulled up into a soft smile filled him with restless energy and he took a swig of his water before making his way to you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” His voice booms, echoing off the walls and you swivel around to grin at him. There is a collective sigh of relief from the other members as they leave the court gym and he sees the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He practically sprints to you and pulls you into a bear hug. He knows he’s sweating and that he probably stinks, but that all takes a back seat as your arms come around to wrap around his waist as you breathe in the feel of him. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod and lean up, puckering your lips to give him a short kiss, and his heart squeezes before he leans down to meet your lips halfway. When you pull back, your face is flushed, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m all better today, we can go wherever you want and do whatever you feel like,”

His golden eyes glint dangerously under the low lighting of the hall, and you immediately know that you’re in trouble. “Now?”

He can see the way your breath hitches and throat constricts as you let out a little whimper. Your voice reaches a higher octave as you whisper out a “Now?” and he suddenly wishes that he could drag you to the locker room in front of everyone. He realises with a start that Atsumu had been right all along and expects the fact to rub him the wrong way, but the thought is pushed to the back as you let out a timid nod.

That’s all he needs. He drags you into the locker room, too impatient to bother with the intricacies of the lock. Everyone had gone home anyway, so what did it even matter? As soon as he sits down, you push his thighs apart and situation yourself between them. Your hands fly to the hem of his gym shorts as you gaze up at him, and the whisper of friction that your fingers provide already has his cock swelling in his boxers.

The first contact your tongue made with his cock has him hardening even further as he sinks his fingers into your hair. He can’t take his eyes off the way your hot tongue glides up the curve of his dick before swirling around the tip and-

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait, baby-Don’t-”

You take him into your mouth, one hand softly massaging his balls, and all the protests die in his throat almost instantly. He chokes at the sight of you on your knees and your pretty, pretty mouth stretched around his fat cock. There are tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggle to take him in any further, and there’s nothing in the word that could make him look away. He thrusts his hips up only slightly, taking you off guard and forcing more of his length into your mouth as you gag around his size.

You make a sound at the back of your throat as you drool around his cock, and it sends waves of vibrations throughout his length. Bokuto eases out of your mouth, and the stark coldness that hits the sensitive skin has him hardening even further. “You did so good, puppy,” he pants out his praise and comes up behind you before he pushes you forward so that you’re on your hands and knees. You’re such a pretty sight that he has to stop himself from entering you straight away. “Are you comfortable, babe? Think you can take it like this?”

You nod vigorously and hold his gaze through the mirror. The head of his cock is leaking and angry, and he’s half tempted to bury himself balls deep inside you without warning. But the moment he pushes the tip inside your wet heat, you arch your back, and his hips jerked forward, craving the way your slick walls spammed around his length.

“S-Shit—” Bokuto grits out, relishing the way the unmistakable sound of your arousal squelching around his cock echoes in the locker room. “God, you’re so fucking messy- baby, I can’t—” his words end on a whine and tries to push himself further inside you, his hands going to grip your hair to wrap it around his fingers.

There’s a low guttural moan from you, and when he looks up, his gut clenches at the sight of your thoroughly fucked face. He wants to commit it all to memory - the way your tongue lolls out while your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cry out for him because he’s the only one who can make you feel like this. He pulls at your hair slightly and immediately feels you clench around him.

He does it again, harder.

Your whimpers thunder in his ears, and he leans forward until he has you completely underneath him, chest grazing the back of your shoulders as he braces his entire weight on his arm. His tongue and teeth are relentless on the flushed tips of your ear, laving the sensitive skin before nipping it harshly as he thrusts into you. “You’re such a pretty puppy, aren’t you? Fucked dumb and drooling on my cock,”

You sob at this, your words slurring. “K-Kou, s’close—” His thrusts become short and fast, reaching deeper as your walls dragging along his cock deliciously. The way you’re needy heat is sucking him in leaves him breathless, his hips stuttering with effort as he struggles to go faster and faster and—

Your walls flutter around his girth, clenching down and squeezing so tightly that he can’t help but arch his back, hands gripping your hips to bring you closer, the curve of your ass flush against his abs. He ruts into you harshly, trying to fuck you through your orgasm, and it’s the loud slapping of skin on skin that mixes perfectly with your lewd keens that have his dick spasming and finally sends him over the edge.

For a moment, all he can hear are the heavy breathing as you both try to catch your breaths, skin slick and glistening with sweat, but then his ears perk up at the telltale whisper of footsteps shuffling. Somewhere, right outside the door, a broomstick topples over something, and he swears he can hear the hushed bickering of Atsumu and Kiyoomi.

Thank you for reading :)

Taglist: @lukehemmingsfan101 @the-actual-audrey @Dontmindme:) @potaytopothato @jadasz @momoraen (those in bold could not be tagged).

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#bokuto koutarou #bokuto #bokuto x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto x female #koutarou bokuto #bokuto smut #hq smut #hq x you #hq x reader #hq bokuto #haikyu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x you #hq x female reader

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howelljenkins · 4 years

Text

As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom.

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing. I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly.

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold.

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children).

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical.

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

#*#og #rr crit #samirah al abbas #rick riordan

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put-trash-here · 2 years

Text

The End of the World ~ Steve Rogers

For @dadplease 4k submission challenge! For the prompt, "Please let me in. You don’t have to be alone." It literally took me so long to write this because I've been so busy. Also... angst.

Warnings: very brief hint of suicide at the end, you're the bad guy, bad writing skills, sad Steve, not edited

Summary: You're not who he thought you were.

Word Count: 909

The world was burning, at least that was how it felt. All of the buildings in the surrounding area were on fire, orange flames bursting from the melting glass windows. People were running away, their screams echoing behind them. Sirens and helicopters were heard in the distance. Military personnel, firefighters, and police were pulling people out of the wreckage. The avengers were doing what they could, but they were distracted. You could say you can’t blame them, but the public definitely will. It was one of them who did this. Who brought the destruction to this city. Who took the lives of the very citizens they had sworn to protect.

Beads of sweat dripped down Steve’s face as he surveyed the scene. His heart rate was sky high and his hands were shaking but Steve didn’t notice. He didn’t notice anything but the pang in his heart. A scream sounded from somewhere next to him and he blinked, coming out of his trance. Steve rushed to his right, getting a firm grip on a car and pulled it up, letting the citizen trapped underneath pull their legs free.

“You okay? You alright?” He kneeled down next to them, using his shield to block some debris from hitting them.

The citizen nodded quickly, fearful eyes locking behind the Captain. Steve turned his head, locking eyes with a familiar person.

“Y/N.”

Her eyes were tired, clothes covered in blood, light pulsing in wisps around her arms, and she floated a few inches above the ground. When she noticed Steve she faltered, feet touching the ground.

“What have you done?” Steve breathed, taking a step towards her. The citizen behind him scrambled to their feet, having been forgotten by the hero.

“Steve, please leave. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The light around her arms flared for a moment before softening once again, a warning, one not easily given. Steve didn’t back away. His eyes searched hers like they had done so many times before but this time, this time he was desperate. Steve was searching for any sign that it wasn’t her, any sign that she wasn’t in control, that she didn’t create the destruction around them. He couldn’t find any.

“Tell me it’s not you. Please tell me it’s not true because I know you. I know you and this is not you.”

She shook her head.

“Don’t make me kill you.”

He barely heard it, but he knew it was meant for him.

“You won’t. I know you won’t.”

The sky got darker as the towers of smoke stretched towards the midday sun. The sirens got louder as more vehicles arrived. Thunder rumbled in the distance from Thor’s power and red surrounded unstable buildings as Wanda tried to hold them up. Steve knew the others were around, Y/N did too, but neither cared. Neither wanted to see them at the moment. The looks of pity and disappointment that would be on their face’s would be too much to bear.

“You can’t stop me,” Y/N said, flames reflecting off the exhausted look on her face.

“Why, Y/N?”

“I’m sorry. Feelings weren’t supposed to get involved.”

“‘Weren’t supposed to get involved’? How would they not? You lived in our home, you worked with us for years, I fell in love with you! Just surrender! We can figure this out!”

She shook her head. If Steve was closer, he would’ve seen the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Please let me in. You don’t have to be alone. Just tell me what’s going on. We can fix this.”

“No, we can’t!”

Her power flew through the air, balls of lights hitting the nearby buildings causing them to crumble. Steve stepped back, shocked at the destruction he just saw her cause. Her eyes widened before she floated up into the air again.

“It’s over, Steve,” Y/N’s eyes flared. “There’s no turning back.”

Steve tried to protest but she was too far and too fast. The power around her pulsed before exploding, coating the entire area in light. Screams echoed before dying out. Steve struggled as he tried to hold up his shield. In reality it was only seconds, but to anyone in the blast it felt like eternity. Gradually it fell away. Steve blinked his eyes, trying to clear the haziness from them.

Y/N was laying on the ground in the middle of the destruction. Her powers had destroyed everything around them, the buildings that had been there before were gone, New York was desolate. Everyone within 30 miles was dead, millions of lives lost to her, the other Avengers likely among them.

Steve stood on shaky legs, tears falling freely down his face as he saw he was the only survivor. His shield was burnt, flimsy, probably one flick away from cracking down the middle, yet he still lived. Steve surveyed the surroundings, eyes landing on his former lover’s corpse.

“Y/N.”

He rushed down beside her, pulling her still body into his arms. His hands shook as he brushed the hair from her face. He screamed into the empty air, wishing he could go back, save her, save them… but nothing changed. No shift in the air, no bright light, her body still growing colder. His eyes closed as he sobbed, pressing his forehead against hers.

The rescue team wouldn’t get there for hours and they would be too late to save the Captain from himself.

#dadplease 4k submission #marvel #the avengers #writing #reader insert #prompts #mcu #steve imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #oneshot #end of the world #marvel angst #angsty #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader

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gojology · 3 years

Text

The Start of Winter Break. (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I FEEL RLLY SAD CUZ I WANTED TO DO THE SUKUNA BUT I DONT KNOW THE STORY ON ALADDIN SO I OPTED FOR 2 INSTEAD IM SORRY ANON. anyways i wanted to feed u guys rlly well and actually took the time to write and edit. I’M REFORMED also writing on google docs is so hard?? (reposting cuz i think im shadowbanned)

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3798

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Food Play, Nipple Play, Oral (Fem Receiving), Degrading Nicknames (I didn’t really proof read that hard but I know there’s like, a mention of one nickname along the lines of that.)

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s the first day of Winter Break, and you want to surprise Gojo with a cup of hot cocoa, instead, Gojo surprises you. Blinking your eyes furiously, you adjusted to the dark room. Immediately, you breathe a sigh of relief. You didn’t have to wake up at such an early hour, and for once you woke up refreshed. It was finally the first day of Winter Break, you had overworked yourself, making sure that you were to spend the end of the year work-free and available for as many Christmas parties you wanted to attend. Yawning, stretching as you did so, you look over your shoulder. There’s a slight smile dawning on Gojo’s lips. His long eyelashes fluttered when he slept. He slightly snored, grabbing at where you once slept in his arms. The room was unusually cold. You had always awoke to sunlight streaming from the window, realizing that could only mean that another day of work was ahead of you. But now, the room was dim, and freezing might you add. You couldn’t wait to snuggle with Gojo, this was perfect cuddle weather. Tearing your eyes away from Gojo’s pretty face, you instead looked at the door. Years of photos with Gojo absolutely slathered the poor thing, past memories all flickering before your eyes. Pictures in Disneyland, bright colors in contrast with the rather dark clothes he always seemed to wear. Once in a while, you would see pictures of Yuuji, Shoko, Megumi, Nobara, just about every Tokyo Jujutsu Tech School member there was, and even Utahime, celebrating good times with Gojo. You didn’t find yourself in many of the pictures, but the ones you did find yourself happened to be some of your fondest memories. Far more common were pictures of you, with ridiculous, shit, you’d even go as far as to say downright ugly faces while he told you a stupid joke were also taped sloppily, some photos were even slanted. Gojo had made it a firm promise to take pictures of you when you least expected it, because that’s when he always found you the cutest. You peek at Gojo’s sleeping face once more, a slight giggle rising from your throat that you struggled to silence. His mouth, slightly agape, was now drooling onto the pillow he oh so gracefully rested on. Jerking your head up and snapping out of your Gojo daze, you realized that you were supposed to make your daily morning coffee for you and him today. You had chewed him out multiple times, telling him that the way he made coffee was nauseating. Usually, Gojo would always accompany the bitter drink with 8 sugarcubes, which was not your thing. He always seemed to forget, honestly you couldn’t really tell with him, giving you a mug of absurdly sweetened coffee every morning. You always foolishly assumed that he had listened to you from the last scolding, so you would always sip it, letting the coffee coat your pallet, but promptly spit it out as soon as you realized how sickly sweet it was. “Satoru! This is too sweet!” “Honeybun, you’re the sweetest thing in this room, what do you mean the coffee could be too sweet? Not possible.” he would inquire innocently, tilting his head to the side. You’d frown, shaking your head and muttering about the acts of distaste you’d do to him before Gojo bursts into a fit of laughter, pointing at you and watching you unenthusiastically look back. Most likely fuming silently, but you didn’t want to tell him that. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re angry, (Y/N).” “Satoru, I can literally not survive the day without coffee. Whatever you’re serving me is definitely not the coffee I want, and sooner or later I’ll be dropping dead.” He would shrug playfully, as if he didn’t even understand the core concepts of what you were trying to tell him. But you knew he did, he just didn’t want to do it. You would clench your fists, trying to look threatening. Your back straightening, and on your tippy toes even though you knew you could never be as tall as him. It never ever worked though, he would just continue to laugh harder, but that was just the routine. “Then do it yourself, sweetie. I wake up at the asscrack of dawn just to make you a cup of coffee. I don’t know about you, but that’s the best show of love.” “Oh I will. I’ll do it well.” And so, you weren’t lying. The two of you began to take turns. You woke up even earlier than you did for work, and made him his coffee (with extra sugar, just as he likes it) while also making yours, making sure to relish the bitter and frankly delicious black drink, void of any sweetening. The next day, he would as well. He never listened to your sugar lectures though, making sure to add 3-4 cubes just to make you angry. You had pretty much given up on all hope of ever getting your ideal coffee from Satoru, it was beyond him to even listen. Besides, you had grown to like the sweetness. Speaking of brown sweet liquids, it was a perfect hot cocoa morning. The snow was beginning to pile up outside, pure white blanketing just about everything. You hastily threw on an oversized sweater Gojo owned, which you had found strewn on the ground. You rolled your eyes, that guy was a mess. What would he do without you? Trudging and stumbling your way into the kitchen like a newborn fawn, you flicked on the lights. As soon as the lights came on, you shielded your eyes from the brightness. Cursing as you pulled out a chair, your eyes slowly adjusting, pulling the chair over to the shelves and cabinets out of reach. Now standing on the wooden chair, you grumbled. So much for being a good girlfriend, your legs ached for some reason, so every time you stood on your tippy toes, you winced. Knocking down a bottle of vegetable oil into the sink, you were startled by such an incredibly loud noise. Your eyes widen and your legs tangle as you scramble, almost falling backwards. Grabbing onto the cabinet’s ledge, you breathed a sigh of relief as the chair stabilized. This was a blessing in disguise, as the chocolate syrup came into view. A feeling of triumph flooding you, you happily hummed gently pulling it out. Setting it down on the counter, you got down, moving the chair over to the right. Standing back onto the chair, you placed a finger on your lips, slightly rubbing them. Your memory wasn’t doing you very well, forgetting where all the extra add-ons for baked goods were. Your tongue stuck out to the side, swinging a random cabinet’s doors wide open. You had guessed correctly, sprinkles of various vivid colors stood idly, eye-catching colors on full display. A fine coat of dust had settled on the caps. You coughed into your arm, now rummaging through the many sprinkles that Gojo would insist on buying because, “they were too cute to pass up.” Sometimes, you swore the guy was a middle-aged Pinterest mom. Yanking out a half opened bag of Jumbo Marshmallows, you did a small victory dance. Normally, Gojo would inhale the darned things, but he was asleep, and very soundly at that. Finally able to have your first taste of marshmallows in a while, you popped a couple in your mouth, practically melting. So sweet. Strolling over to the fridge while popping more marshmallows in your mouth, you lazily threw the bag onto the counter. Swinging the fridge door wide open, you shivered at the cold air, hauling a jug of milk out. As usual, it was half full. Gojo would insist on eating all his cookies with milk, and if he didn’t have milk with his cookies, he would not eat them, stating that it was against his beliefs to even begin to stare at a cookie without a cold glass of milk at the side. He was probably a 9 year old trapped in a 28 year olds body. Humming a short tune, you poured the milk into a mug that Gojo had bought for you as a souvenir on a business trip. Painted onto it was a beautiful scene. Flourishing, vibrant flowers only half-heartedly concealing an undisturbed pond, deers frolicking around it. The mug was your favorite cup, and even Gojo, who most likely had the memory span of a goldfish when it came to unnecessary facts such as this one, knew it. You flipped the chocolate syrup bottle upside down, smacking the top. Making a note to yourself to buy chocolate syrup the next time you went out. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer. “Boo.” Startled, you twirled around, expecting a rather friendly home invader, or something along the lines of that. Instead, you were greeted with Gojo Satoru’s face. Satoru’s eyebrow twitches, looking at you with an amused expression. “Scared? We’re on the same boat.” he snickered, “woke up to some loud ass bang.” Gojo sleepy whispered into your ear, ruffling your hair with his large, calloused hands. His chin now resting on your right shoulder. “I dropped the vegetable oil on accident.” You ignored the light, fluttering feeling when he touched you. “Gosh, you’re a clumsy one aren’t you, sugar?” Scoffing, you whip your head back to the hot chocolate. An unhealthy serving of chocolate syrup was splattered inside the mug, already blending with the milk. “Don’t turn your back on me, pumpkin.” whining playfully, tugging at your left shoulder. There was something about such a playful, childish Gojo that you loved. You wished you got to see it more often. You pretend to be annoyed, looking at him, now standing up without the support of your shoulder, in the eye now. A flicker of mischievousness over his face, he looks down at you. “How thoughtful.” kissing your temple, he yawned. “Making hot chocolate for me? Oh hey- you even got the exact same amount of chocolate I like.” “Satoru.” hands on your hips, you were bemused. How could one even like sugar this much? “This is an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup, and can NOT be good for you.” His warm gaze stared back, a slight curve to his lips now. You swear you could die a happy girl now, Gojo wasn’t sleepy very often, so when he was, you made sure to relish it. Usually, when you were lucky enough to be in the presence of a sleepy Gojo, he was always softer. Giving you small, coy smiles. Your retort didn’t even seem to register in his brain in the slightest. “I want it, though.” You sighed, facepalming. “Ooooh, marshmallows!” suddenly bursting with energy he never exhibited before seeing the sugary treat, his long arm extended over to the bag, tugging at it to get it closer to him before finally shoving 3 or more into his mouth. “Satoru!” you yank his hand back from the entrance of his mouth, able to save a few, albeit a bit ugly and smooshed, marshmallows. “Wha?” he rubbed his eyes, chewing noisily on the marshmallows he was lucky enough to get into his mouth. “Baby. We need those marshmallows, here, can you microwave a bowl of them? Save a few for later.” He nodded obediently, tugging a bowl out of the “washed dishes” section of the sink. Wiping it down sloppily with a towel. He dug his hand into the marshmallow bag, throwing a few handfuls into the bowl before carefully placing the bowl into a microwave, sneaking a few more into his mouth before jabbing at a few buttons. “There.” he gave you a crooked grin and a thumbs up, walking back over to you, placing warm fingers against your cheek, suddenly jumping back. “Holy shit, babygirl, you’re cold.” About to respond, you too realized how cold you were. Lightly shivering, your hands seemed to be blocks of ice. “Babe, can you go get an extra sweater-” Hands under your sweater (well, technically his) suddenly, his warm, big hands massaged your breasts. You yelped, the hot contact against your cold skin was electrifying. His thumbs, rubbing over your nipples lazily, sent even more shivers down your spine. Quietly moaning, you looked back at Gojo, who seemed to thoroughly savor every little sound you made. “Like that, lil girl~?” “S-Satoru! Not now… I’m making you s-something!” “Hot cocoa doesn’t take a chef to make.” he placed kisses on your neck, lightly suckling on your bare skin. “I-I know, but just… N-not now.” you stammered, he was now tweaking your nipples, gently pulling them. He didn’t seem to register the request though, but instead was drawing lazily on your breast. “That better, missy?” he questioned, watching you catch your breath and gulp. Resting his chin on your shoulder once more. “Mmmmm.” you responded, thoroughly enjoying his warm touch. Closing your eyes, enjoying the mystifying feeling his hands always gave you. Loudly, the microwave beeped. Suddenly jumping up from the loud occurrence, Gojo cursed under his breath and jogged over to the microwave, swinging the handle open. “Great news, (Y/N). I didn’t burn the marshmallows!” Grumbling under your breath, and wishing all hell to the microwave for disrupting such an intimate event, you nodded, giving him a few weak claps for his rather stupid achievement. Gesturing for him to bring the bowl over, you pulled out a spoon from the drawer beneath you. As soon as Gojo placed the bowl on the counter, he zoomed back to where he had left off, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it. This time, he was massaging one of your shoulders. Your breathing was heavier when he did this, Gojo noted, watching as you struggled to mix the chocolate syrup and milk together. He did this for a while, eyeing the cooling marshmallow. He swiped up a dollop, wiping it down your neck. Letting out a gasp by the sudden warmth, you assumed it was Gojo’s mouth. To your surprise, it wasn’t. He licked the cloud of fluff, before straight up placing his entire mouth on it, lightly sucking and licking your skin. Your panties were getting awfully wet. “L-love, we n-need the fluff to a-add the finishing touch to t-the hot cocoa.” you would mutter, trying not to collapse from the pleasure. “You getting wet?” now lightly nibbling on your skin, his hand left your breast, dunking his hand underneath the fabric of your panties. He sneered, realizing the puddle that had seeped itself into the material. “Aw, you’re absolutely wet. Fuck am I saying?” he swirled his finger around your entrance, lightly dipping one of his fingers in before he took it out. Whimpering, your walls clenched around something that wasn’t there. “Anyways, let's get back to the hot cocoa!” innocently licking his glistening finger, he looked at you. ‘What? Y-you can’t do that to me-!” “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he chirped back, smiling devilishly. “That’s what I wanted before-” “Hush up, slut.” he rubbed your head with one hand, the other, stroking your cheek. You didn’t realize how hot you got when he called you a slut, whimpering, the hot cocoa long forgotten on the counter as you leaned into his chest. “Aw, you’re so cute.” tugging on your cheeks softly, you look up at him, while he looked down. Even though you were his girlfriend, you didn’t really see his eyes often. They were a brilliant shade of aquamarine, flecks of a darker blue were also sprinkled amongst the sea of various shades of blue. “You want something? You’re giving me those puppy eyes.” Still pulling at your cheeks, he stared down patiently, unable to hide the smile on his face. “I hate when you tease me.” you blurt out, surprisingly coherent, even though Gojo was pinching your cheek. Another flicker of amusement on his face. “That’s not how you ask for something you want.” He stopped pinching your cheeks, now staring at you. You couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking about, his face was blank, eyes cloudy. “Mmm, I’ll give you one last chance before you get punished. Now missy, what do you want?” You tugged at the hem of his pants, still making eye contact. “You can’t have that, sweetie.” he straightened you back up, so that you weren’t leaning on his chest any longer. “It’s way too early.” “Then what was the point of teasing me?” you groaned, clasping your hands together and looking at him. “Please?” you were sure to have your eyelashes flutter. He laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry, princess.” You groaned, getting down onto the cold floor, getting onto your knees, looking at his pleasurably entertained face. “...What about now?” He chuckled, rubbing your head again. “No, baby. I’m just not in the mood, but I can make a recommendation that works with me. Although, you’re really cute when you’re on your knees for me.” You nodded, nervously anticipating whatever he wanted to do. You didn’t need to wait, though, he carried you over to the table, like a princess, unclothing you quickly. Throwing his sweater onto the floor once again, you felt your heart jump a little. A small pile of clothing consisting of the sweater, your panties, and a t-shirt was crumpled up on the floor. He cupped your breasts, leaning over the table to look at them. His expression softened, placing delicate kisses on each breast, making you gasp a little. “So cute.” whispering, rubbing your nipples once again. Your hands found their home in Gojo’s hair, now clenching onto his snowy white locks. He grunted a little as you pushed his head further into your chest, effectively telling you to start suckling on the now slightly abused domes. “Just a sec, (Y/N).” extending his impossibly long limbs to grab the marshmallow fluff bowl, his long fingers danced at the rim, then pulled it closer to his chest. Yanking the spoon out of the bowl, he spread the lukewarm fluff on your body, you weren’t expecting such warmth, and you let out a yelp, realizing what he was slathering onto you. “Satoru! D-did you forget what I said e-earlier?” “Nope, I just don’t care.” sadistically grinning, he ducked his head down, the space between your breasts and his face non existent. He had practically smooshed himself into your embrace, your arms around his head. He was good with his tongue, you had to admit, too good. Goosebumps grew on your skin, no matter how many times you two fucked senseless, he still had such an effect on you. His tongue swirling around your nipple, fingers rubbing and teasing the other. You felt his hot breath against your skin, and you couldn’t help but think how good it felt. Strands of hair tickled you as he began to noisily slurp, before coming back up again. Your breast was glistening with spit, few thin lines of marshmallow fluff left over. He licked them up, before scooping up a few dollops of marshmallow fluff onto you, looking hungrily at the attention-starved breast, before diving back down. Fingers now giving the spoiled nipple almost close to 0 action. He licked the hard nipple a few more times before sucking onto it, as if he was a baby. I mean, he probably was. Afterall, he was a manchild. Regardless, you found yourself heavily breathing, hugging his head like it was the last thing you’d ever do. His teeth lightly nibbled, making you jump a little. Now biting onto it, you squealed. He glanced up, before going back down, licking the sensitive bud. You felt a rush near your lower regions, a familiar warmth rushed to your cheeks. “S-Satoru! I think I’m gonna-!” You weren’t even going to finish the sentence, the white, hot liquid pooling out of you as soon as you uttered a few words. Gojo’s attention was now focused on you, before looking down. “Woah, lil girl. That’s a large mess. I didn’t know your pussy needed any attention.” he directed his gaze towards your pussy, spreading the folds and softly examined it. “How pretty.” he muttered, he flicked his thumb on your clit, making you moan loudly. “FUCK!” you threw a hand over your mouth, he laughed, his breath tickling you. “You’re really wet.” Without any warning before hand, he dove in between your legs, beginning to noisily slurp at your folds, dipping his tongue into your entrance. You began to practically scream louder, you were fuzzy, your body, your mind, everything. Unable to cover your moans, you began to grimace at the stares your neighbors would give you when you went out for the mail. Gojo would laugh, telling you that, “He was just trying to show the world you were his.” and not pay any mind, cursing him for being so skilled, you struggled to contain all the noises you were making. You felt his tongue tease your entrance playfully, flicking your clit a few times for extra measure, you were now wildly thrashing, and you knew Gojo couldn’t wait to ridicule you over dinner. About to straight up shove his head closer into you, his tongue finally stuck inside of you. Letting out a sigh of relief mixed with added pleasure, he skillfully lapped at your juices. Noisily slurping away at you, he glanced up. You were trying to sit up, but were struggling as you did so. The waves of pleasure sent you crashing back down onto the table. You felt him exhale through his nose, tickling you once again. He closed the little space between you and his face, as soon as he was in contact with your skin, you wrapped your legs around his back, trying to close the distance that wasn’t there. Now, his tongue was reaching you in places you’d never think he would. Flush, hot skin was sweating against the table surface, but you paid no mind, promising yourself to wipe the top later. Hair strands practically glued to the sides of your head due to the sweat, you whined again, feeling yourself close to cumming. You were about to speak again, warning Gojo, but you couldn’t. Before the words could even spill out of your mouth, you felt yourself burst. Gojo, seemingly unaware, was still lapping at your walls. You looked at him, breathing heavily. His eyes widened, and you felt him stop licking for a while, before you saw him gulp and stand back up. His eyes twinkled a little in the light, and you straightened, sitting on the table, your heart still beating rapidly. “You never told me you were gonna cum.” You turned your head to the side, about to retort, before you realized the empty bowl of marshmallow fluff. “Satoru! I told you to not use it all!” (resposting because i think im shadowbanned, please interact if u saw this!)

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojou satoru #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #smut and more smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #hhhh #i think im shadowbanned

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marmosa · 4 years

Text

you mean it?

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: i saw this concept done by someone else and it finally kicked my writing brain into gear and i couldn’t not write my own take on it (love potion shenanigans). my requests are currently open because i’ve been at a lack of my own ideas, so feel free to drop a request or two, i’ll be writing up a few of them! in the mean time, i hope you’re all doing well and as always i hope you enjoy <3

***

“How do I know you didn’t mess with my drink?”

Fred and George exchanged knowing glances, both unwilling to let on that they did, in fact, tamper with her drink.

“Look, I’m not one to be selective when handed free butterbeer, however if anything I would like to not have my hair dyed against my will again, however cool it may look,” [y/n] sighed, holding her drink up to the light to try and see if there truly was anything suspicious she could note within its contents.

“Would you just trust us?” Fred pleaded, clasping his hands together and shaking them like a child trying not to get grounded.

“Do we look like we’d ever hurt you?” George added, smiling innocently.

“Yes, yes you would,” [y/n] deadpanned, “like when Fred dropped me 50 feet off your broom and nearly missed me when he tried to catch me, or when you gave me food poisoning because the potion you put in my lunch was faulty, or the time that you both nearly killed me with a miscalculated firework, or-,”

“Okay we get it!” The twins groaned, Fred reaching forward to press his hand flat over her mouth to get her to be quiet.

“Just trust us on this one, okay?” George begged, squeezing her shoulder as she eyed the butterbeer unsurely once more.

“Fine, bottoms up lads, hope I don’t end up in the infirmary!” [y/n] cheered half-heartedly, shaking the bottle before downing it like a shot.

“So?” Fred asked, nearly jumping in his spot as the twin both eyed her excitedly.

“So what?” she repeated, scrunching her nose at the weird aftertaste in her mouth, “it was just a-,” her voice trailed out as her eyes zeroed in on Fred, her mouth suddenly running dry.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing! See, Fred, I told you we needed to add less Borage and more Belladonna!” George cursed, shuffling through his book bag for his notebook he kept for notes on these certain instances.

As the twins got lost in their tweaking of the potion, it completely slipped past them that [y/n] was quite literally going through an internal awakening, her mind spinning as she took in the boy before her.

Why was Fred so suddenly at the forefront of her mind? His strong facial features, soft swooping locks, lean and athletic build, all of it was flooding her brain and she felt like she was going to explode. She felt as if she could count every single freckle on his face is she wanted to. Her eyes trailed down to the empty bottle in her hand and it quickly clicked before the potion flooded over her inhibition and stole her capacity to think clearly.

“You’re cute,” she blurt out, her eyes widening in shock before sinking down comfortably, her face relaxing into one of pure adoration, “like really cute.”

The twins halted their discussion and slowly turned to her, their eyes ready to nearly pop out of their heads. They exchanged surprised and then excited glances, George immediately getting to editing his notes.

“[y/n], how do you feel?” Fred questioned, eyeing her up and down as she beamed up at him with a newfound sort of confidence.

“I’m doing fine, darling, why do you ask?” she replied, pressing her fingers against her temples as a surge of sense surged through her, “wait, what- what’s going on?”

“Did the potion work?” George asked, leaning forward to squint into her eyes which she leaned backwards to avoid, her eyes never tearing away from Fred’s who stood there rigid as can be.

“George, I think it worked just fine,” Fred muttered, pulling his brother back by his shoulder, “dosage was a bit off, but it worked.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t mind, you have a lovely voice,” [y/n] lilted, tilting her head to the side as she took a step closer towards Fred.

“Oh shit, she-,”

“Saw me. Yup,” Fred finished George’s sentence, pulling his lips into a tight line.

“But it shouldn’t be a problem since you- OW!” George yelped when Fred pinched his arm, shaking his head in an unspoken “shut up”.

“Uh [y/n], I think we should take you up to your room, you look like you need a nap,” Fred chuckled uneasily, reaching forward but retracting his hand last minute when her eyes nearly popped out of her skull at the contact.

“But I don’t want to be away from you,” she pouted, sagging forward and slinging her arms around his neck, twirling the hairs at the nap of his neck around her pointer finger, “I’ll die without you Freddie.”

Fred chuckled and unwrapped her arms from his neck, pushing her back onto her own feet, “yeah, you most certainly need a nap. Let’s get you back to your dormitory and then we’ll talk about me leaving alright?”

“Sounds lovely,” she hummed, leaning into his side and hooking her arm with his.

“I’ll take care of taking her to keep down a fuss, you run and go see if you can make an antidote, though I hardly think we’ll need it since she keeps coming to on her own,” Fred explained, getting a curt nod from George who ran off to go fix something up.

“Did you know you have such pretty eyes?” [y/n] giggled, reaching forward and brushing his hair out of his face, “You’re even cuter when you blush too.”

Fred wanted nothing more than to go and swim to the very bottom of the black lake right then as he realized she’d picked up on the bright red hue dusting his cheeks, but he couldn’t leave her on her own, he knew that would cause a bigger fuss than any of them wanted.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, not used to being on the receiving end of such forward flirting, “lets get you to your dormitory.”

***

“But you can’t leave! Freddie, darling, please! I can’t be without you, I cannot!” [y/n] pleaded helplessly, clinging to his robes with balled fists.

“[y/n], you most certainly can be without me for a few moments,” Fred tried to sooth her distress, holding her up by her shoulders to keep her from sinking onto the floor.

“I can’t! Freddie I’m in love with you, I simply cannot be apart from you, it’ll hurt too much,” she nearly cried, plopping down on the nearest bed, her eyes already watering over.

Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, thoroughly embarrassed that he was partially responsible for putting her through this, “Look, hey, hey look at me, don’t cry please?”

She sniffled, looking up at him as he sat next to her, the comforter sinking down beneath them, “I can’t help but cry when you say you’re going to leave me!”

“I know, it’s hard, if I could take you with me, I would darling, trust me. But you know the dormitory rules, McGonagall would have my head on a stick,” Fred explained, reaching forward and brushing away the stray tear that rolled down her cheek.

Her eyes widened a bit as she relished in the attention, her clouded mind basking in the sweet affection and reassurance he was giving her. She hummed quietly and leaned her head onto his shoulder, her head twinging as the effects of the potion wavered once more.

“Fred, where are we?”

“[y/n]! You’ve come back to?” Fred exclaimed, leaning back to observe her face scrunched in discomfort, confusion quickly overtaking him when her face laxed into bliss again.

“I’m- I’m fine now that you’re staying here with me,” she nodded, throwing herself over his lap, beaming up at him when he looked back at her all flustered, “you’re so pretty, did you know that?”

“I didn’t, no,” he chuckled awkwardly, tearing his gaze away from her love-sick eyes, his heart about ready to beat out of his chest.

“Well you are. You are oh so pretty, Freddie dear, a proper beauty if I ever did see one,” she sighed dreamily, walking her fingers up his chest to tap her finger gently at the tip of his nose.

He scrunched his nose at the feather light touch, pursing his lips disapprovingly when she giggled at his discomfort, “thank you, [y/n].”

“It’s my pleasure darling,” she chirped, fluttering her eyes shut, “I think you were right about me needing a nap.”

“I’m always right, [y/l/n],” he mused, leaning back on his arms to give her more room to get comfortable in his lap, “but if you’re tired you should get into bed, I don’t think you’d do well laying on my knees.”

“But they’re comfortable, I could lay here all day,” she hummed contentedly, folding her hands over her stomach, “I could spend all my time with you and never grow bored of your company.”

“You flatter me far too much,” He mumbled, glancing away again to try to hide the flaming red quickly overtaking his features.

“I don’t flatter you enough,” she replied simply, already starting to nod off, “but that’ll change. I love you so much, darling, I will flatter you for the rest of my days if it makes you happy.”

“That would indeed make me very happy,” Fred smiled softly, smoothing his hand over her cheek as she finally dozed off.

***

“Okay I think I’ve got something!”

Fred’s head snapped up from the book in his lap as George burst into the room, holding a small vile in his hand. Fred shushed him, nodding up from the floor to [y/n]’s sleeping figure behind him on the bed.

“Oh, sorry,” George whispered, “but I’ve got something fixed, I even got it doubled checked by a professor who promised not to tell.”

“Do you have a drink?” Fred asked, pushing himself off the floor to take the vile from his brother to inspect himself.

“No more butterbeer, unfortunately, but on my way here I nicked a small bottle of apple cider from the Hall, so that should do it,” George explained, pulling an almost shot glass out of his robes pocket.

“Brilliant, that should do it, I’ll wake her up,” Fred nodded, handing the potion back to his brother, and heading over to [y/n], “hey sleepy head, you gotta wake up.”

“Mmm,” [y/n] muttered, rolling over on her side as she opened her eyes soflty, “Freddie!”

He chuckled softly as she reached up towards him blindly, her eyes still shut as they readjusted to the sudden burst of light, her hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him down towards her.

“Hey, careful there, don’t wanna break me in two, do you,” Fred laughed, [y/n] releasing him with a soft gasp as her eyes snapped open once more.

“I don’t want to snap you in half, that would be dastardly, darling,” she explained, obviously distraught at the insinuation of injuring him.

“Well, since you’re up, George here’s did you the favor of getting you something to drink, it’s apple cider, I remember you saying that you really liked it,” Fred smiled warmly, taking the drink from George who stepped back, amused at the awkward situation they were put in but endeared at his brother being so uncharacteristically soft.

“Well if you say it’s my favorite, it probably is, you’re too sweet to lie to me Fred,” [y/n] grinned, swirling the drink around in its bottle, “would you like some?”

“No thank you, I’ve just about had enough to drink today, I think it’d do better if you had it all,” He nodded, “Besides if I want some I can always go get my own.”

“Good point darling, thank you for the drink,” she mused before downing its contents whole.

It didn’t take long to see the potion take effect as her face scrunched into one of disgust before smoothing out into one of confusion, “that tasted like shit what the bloody hell was that- wait, what happened?”

Fred and George both let out a simultaneous breath of relief, momentarily cheering amongst themselves as [y/n] stared up at them with a quizzical look.

“Well I suppose you deserve an explanation,” George muttered sheepishly, taking the empty shot glass from her hand and tossing it in the nearest bin.

“That would be nice, yes,” she frowned, rubbing at her temples as her skull pulsed, the potion finally washing out all the previous effects of the other potion, “I don’t remember much except for drinking the butterbeer- what the hell did you guys put in it.”

“Promise not to get mad?” Fred bat his eyelashes innocently, tilting his head to the side with clasped hands to emphasize the effect.

“I think we’ve gone far past that, but I guess so,” she grumbled, shifting so she was laying down to accommodate her now twinging headache.

“We might’ve, possibly, on accident, give you love potion,” George laughed uneasily, trying his best to diffuse the tension, knowing he was failing miserably.

“Well who was I fancying? Who did I make a fool of myself in front of?” she asked from under the arm she’d slung over her face to block out the light.

Fred chuckled awkwardly, pulling the inside of his cheek between his teeth. [y/n] lifted her arm and looked at Fred with wide eyes, her mouth falling open as the gears in her head rolled to a conclusion. George rolled onto the balls of his feet, shuffling towards the door as Fred and [y/n] got lost in their own world, slipping out of the room as soon as he could.

“No,” She groaned, “No!”

Fred sunk into himself as he watched her roll over and curl up into a ball, almost like a frightened pill bug. He wanted to escape the room just as George had done, he wanted to pretend this had never happened, he wanted to run and hide in his room until this entire prank had blown over. What made it worse was he didn’t think he was going to have to hear her verbal rejection of true feelings for him so soon.

“It wasn’t that bad if that makes you feel any better,” Fred muttered, shuffling over and sitting at the foot of her bed.

“Wasn’t bad- tch,” she sat up and stared at him with demanding eyes, “what did I even say? Wait, don’t tell me, it’ll just make me feel worse.”

[y/n] fell backwards again and pressed her palms into her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She didn’t want to look at Fred, not even wanting to face him right now, she made a mental note to strangle George later for slipping away when she was so plainly swallowed in shock and humiliation. It was unfathomable that she was so outwardly love-sick to a boy who most certainly didn’t see her as anything other than a friend, and now she had to hear his rejection up front.

“It really wasn’t anything bad. If anything, it was just really forward flirting,” Fred tried to sooth her, still feeling guilty for the turmoil she was facing.

“But it probably made you so uncomfortable and you probably had to babysit me while you were uncomfortable and now I’m gonna be so awkward about everything and you probably hate me,” she confessed, wanting nothing more than to just shrink into herself and forget she was there.

“I truly didn’t mind it at all, I actually found it sort of endearing, actually,” He mumbled, looking away to avoid any and all eye-contact.

“You didn’t?” she replied, taken aback that he wasn’t as disgusted as she’d thought he’d be.

“Not at all. It was the first time someone so outwardly flirted with me and it was kind of nice coming from you. You said I had pretty eyes,” He chuckled to himself, still staring holes into the floor.

[y/n] was speechless. Of all the horribly embarrassing things she probably did and said, that was the one thing he chose to relay to her. She wasn’t sure how to proceed after that, not being able to tell if he was simply being nice and recalling a gentle interaction or if he was truly being honest about his feelings.

“What else did I say?” She asked quietly, sitting up and scooting over so she was sitting somewhat next to him.

“You said you loved me,” He smiled softly, “and you did this,” he imitated her earlier actions, walking his fingers up from her collarbones to tap her nose with his finger, smiling when she scrunched her nose just as he had done.

“I did, didn’t I? Well,” she shrugged, offering him a smile of her own, boldly reaching forward and tucking his hair behind his ear, “that was a proper rubbish potion then. It’s suppose to make you say things you don’t mean, isn’t it?”

Fred nearly collapsed in on himself, a blissful grin pulling its way onto his lips, “You love me?”

“You’d think that was clear by now,” [y/n] giggled.

“I just wanted to make sure before I did this.”

“Did what?” she quipped, looking at him quizzically.

“This,” he reached forward and cupped her cheek, pulling her face to his and connecting their lips.

As soon as the initial shock factor fell away [y/n] was giving her entire self into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in as close as she could in their awkward positioning. Fred didn’t hesitate either, pouring all the pent up feelings he’d been hiding throughout the day into the kiss. It was over as quick as it had started, the both of them pulling away with the sweet smiles.

“I’m thinking we should spike your drinks more often,” Fred suggested cheekily, biting back a laugh when her face fell into a glare.

“If you even think of doing that again, I will not only never kiss you again, I will never speak to you again,” she snapped, “what happened to the Fred that was so sweet a little while ago.”

“Hey! I’m still sweet!” Fred scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting like a child who’d just gotten their toy taken away from them.

“Don’t think so,” she shrugged, scooting away from him until she was resting against the headboard.

“Don’t think so? Oh I’ll show you just how sweet I can be, come here,” he grinned mischievously, crawling over and dragging her down by her hips.

“Hey, careful there!” she squealed, bracing herself on his shoulders.

“You wanted me to be sweet? Careful what you wish for love, you just might get it,” he teased, leaning down and capturing her lips once more.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#mar writes #hogwarts #harry potter

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