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mcytrecursive · 4 months

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Nomination Overview - Found Family

And this is a popular tag, as it turns out! Of 111 nominations so far, 14 of them are tagged with Found Family, from a half-a-million-word-epic to a 2k fic.

Title: catbag Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43929327/chapters/110455053 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: supinetothestars Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Tubbo & TommyInnit, Nihachu & TommyInnit, Quackity & Wilbur Soot Characters: TommyInnit, Tubbo, Wilbur Soot, Philza, Technoblade, Dream, Quackity, Jack Manifold, Nihachu, GeorgeNotFound Length of the work: 60,459 words (incomplete) Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, AU, Family, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Superhero/Superpower AU Type: Fic Summary: Tommy's called Blindspot for a reason. He’s not invisible, as he’s reminded Dream time and time again - people can definitely see him. They just don’t notice. He blends into plain sight, totally diverting all attention like water off of a duck. Usually, anyway. Orpheus, however, stiffens a little as Tommy draws nearer. He starts glancing around, as if struck by sudden paranoia. Tommy draws up in front of him, staff clenched in one hand, and Orpheus starts turning as if to check behind him. “What’s that,” Orpheus mutters. “Who’s there-“ Tommy pulls his staff back and slams it into Orpheus’s stomach, hard. Orpheus stumbles. He wheezes, choking, and then looks up at Tommy and fixes him with a burning stare. “Who the fuck are you,” Orpheus says, eyes wild and oddly delighted. “Where were you hiding?” __ Suspected of betraying the Hero Guild, Apprentice hero Tommy (A.K.A. Blindspot) is put under Security Protocol Catbag: a locked-on noise cancelling mask equipped with truth gas. His mentor, Dream, calls it a necessary teaching tool. Meanwhile, SBI wants to know why their least favorite loudmouth little Hero has suddenly stopped talking.

Title: Scarecrow AU (When The Sunlight Dies) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2556517 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: personalized_radio, bramble_patch (Marianne_Dashwood) Relationships: Dream/GeorgeNotFound, Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Quackity/Jschlatt Characters: Karl Jacobs, Dream, GeorgeNotFound, Sapnap, Quackity, Jschlatt, Wilbur Soot, DreamXD Length of the work: 511,877 words Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, AU, Dark Fic, Drama, Family, Fantasy AU, Friendship, Found Family, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic, Romance, Royalty AU Type: Fic Summary: It's been three months since the coup. Three months since Sapnap, a knight, and George, his prince, have been chased out of their home. Three months of being on the run, trying to find a safe way out of Kinoko without being caught by the president's mercenaries or an opportunistic bounty hunter. It's hard, but it would be a lot easier if he didn't have to worry about George's sudden taste for wandering. Or the two guides that have worked their way into his group, promising them a safer way out of the kingdom. And it would be a whole lot easier if Sapnap wasn't flying solo, doing a job made for two. And then there's the Godling to worry about. Yeah. That's a whole thing. (Summary is for "When The Sunlight Dies", the first story in the series)

Title: Blood Brothers (Blood God!Tommy AU) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2714209 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: lockergirl Relationships: Tommy & Technoblade & Philza & Wilbur, Wilbur & Quackity, Quackity/Karl/Sapnap Characters: Tommy, Technoblade, Philza, Wilbur, Quackity Length of the work: 85,937 (for the whole series, the first three fics in the series make a complete story but the series is incomplete) Genre: Angst, AU, Fantasy AU, Found Family, Humour, Hurt/Comfort Type: Fic Summary: A series of fics in which Tommy is the Blood God, and he gains his followers (family) through a series of fortunate and unfortunate events.

Title: i can be the one you call Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051148 Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP Author: mayflowers07 Characters: Hermitcraft Ensemble, Evil Xisuma (Exiona) Length of the work: 143,821 words (marked not complete, but the main storyline is finished) Genre: Angst, AU, Character Study, Domestic/Slice-of-life, Drama, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt-no-comfort, permadeath AU (no MCD) Type: Fic Summary: The Hermits have a code phrase. If spoken, this phrase acts as an emergency safe word, telling everyone to stop whatever they’re doing, because something is seriously wrong. Whether it’s from physical or emotional distress, all Hermits know that when someone uses the code, they need help from their chaotic, dysfunctional family. Notes: Pretty much all hurt/comfort and found family because I am weak and predictable. No shipping, it’s all platonic love (26 stand-alone fics under the series)

Title: Flowers for the Blood God Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31888939 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: de_hautdesert Relationships: Nihachu & Ph1LzA & Ranboo & Technoblade, Nihachu & Technoblade Characters: Technoblade, Nihachu Length of the work: 2,129 words Genre: Angst, Canon-Compliant, Character Study, Domestic/Slice-of-life, Fluff, Friendship, Found Family Summary: The Syndicate plans an unconventional meeting. Techno and Niki prepare. Featuring friends supporting each other, recovery from trauma, and infodumping about hair dye.

Title: the body is an object Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42838071 Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP Author: ruffboi Characters: Grian, PearlescentMoon, Mumbo Jumbo, XisumaVoid Length of the work: 19,132 words Genre: Angst, AU, Canon-Compliant, Character Study, Friendship, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort Summary: the Hermitcraft Backstory Rule says that you don't ask other people about their backstory, you let them tell it if they want to and leave it be if they don't. Unfortunately for Grian, one of the newest Hermits was also a player on his old server - one he'd thought had been dead for years - and she's going to drag his backstory kicking and screaming into the light whether she means to or not.

Title: He Has a Soul Made of Stars Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35533927/chapters/88583056 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: NobleDragon Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Ranboo & Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Philza, Wilbur Soot & Fundy Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit, Technoblade, Philza, Ranboo, Tubbo, Fundy Length of the work: 16,875 words Genre: Domestic/Slice-of-life, Family, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Space AU Summary: And the heart of a galaxy. There is something in the vents of his ship, stealing their food and walking around at odd times of the day. Phil was going to catch that animal and cook it up for dinner if he has a say about it. Wait...it isn't an animal, but a sentient? And it's probably scared and hurt with no one to take care of them? Well...that changes things. Or: I'm going to make Phil want to found family something he hasn't even seen yet.

Title: The Blood of the Covenant Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34723480/chapters/86456896 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: NobleDragon Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Fundy & Wilbur Soot Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit, Technoblade, Phil Watson, Fundy Length of the work: 53,227 words Genre: Canon-Divergent, Dark Fic, Family, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Urban Fantasy/Werewolf/Vampire AU, Dimension Travel Summary: Is thicker than the water of the womb. After Wilbur dies by his father, he is taken to a new world with new beginnings. He stays away from it all, not wanting to hurt this worlds family and stay hidden in his forest. Said family thinks they should have been informed of this opinion. Or: Wilbur gets punted into prime found family territory, kicking and screaming.

Title: Its Free Son Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30819416 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: SilverWing15 Relationships: Philza & Technoblade Characters: Philza, Technoblade Length of the work: 3,522 words Genre: AU, Friendship, Found Family, Kidfic Summary: He comes from the realm of the dead. Through the doorway that stands alone on the far off hill. He walks across the Soul Sand desert as though it does not tug at the essence of himself. He wears sacred gold and carries weapons of precious netherite. He is a god, and they have been his favored people for as long as anyone can remember. He comes to their village and trades sacred gold for their potions and eyes of ender. The Blood God walks among them, and they are honored. They have always traded fairly with the Blood God. Sacred gold for offerings of pearls potions and other difficult to acquire things. But this time the Blood God granted them his favor, this time he turned aside their enemies with his open hand and took nothing in return. It is not done to simply take from the gods. The debt must always be repaid. He has saved their lives, they must offer him a life in return. And their eyes fall on him. Technoblade is not a coward. He has faced the enemy in battle, he has seen the Blood God in all his wrathful glory. But he doesn’t want to die.

Title: future site of something Better [a fabulous killjoys au] (Restricted) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2273504 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: hallmarked_error Relationships: Jack Manifold & TommyInnit, Ranboo & TommyInnit, Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Phil Watson, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot Characters: Tommyinnit, Technoblade, Philza, Wilbur Soot, Jack Manifold, Ranboo, Tubbo Length of the work: 54,020 words (incomplete series) Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, AU, Found Family, Post-Apocalyptic AU Summary: a fabulous killjoys au featuring the cast of the dsmp (plus a few others thrown in for good measure), inspired by the concept album by mcr and the comics by gerard way.

Title: the misadventures of detective falsewell and grianlock Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29980416/ + blog/art tag https://www.tumblr.com/sleepynenes/tagged/dtau Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP Author: sleepyrinas Relationships: Grian & False & Rendog Characters: Grian, False, Rendog Length of the work: 86,922 words Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, AU, Drama, Fluff, Family, Found Family, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Superhero/Superpower AU, Urban Fantasy/Werewolf/Vampire AU, Mystery Summary: Detectives Falsewell and Grianlock are some of the best in the business, two siblings with a prowess for solving mysteries and any flavor of crime. Of course, not everything goes as simply as they hope. What disasters and troubles await these two detectives in the small town of Hermitville? Only one way to find out!

Title: Just the Two of Us Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45549838/chapters/114615043 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: eepyvoid Relationships: Philza & Tommyinnit Characters: Philza & TommyInnit Length of the work: 6,675 words Genre: Angst, Dark Fic, Found Family, Post-Apocalyptic AU Summary: As the world descended into zombie apocalypse driven madness, the number of living people was cut in third - two of those people being Philza Minecraft, an infamous criminal who was wanted by everyone for all the wrong reasons, and a small former 'lab rat' kid, TommyInnit, a small and scared child being free for the first time. The two meet, and team up, both not sure how mere friendship looks like. Or, Two traumatized blondes bonding over their shared lack of other people to trust in their life, under the looming threat of the zombie apocalypse.

Title: Ruby in the Moonlight Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135688 Fandom: Dream SMP Author: SilverWing15 Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Dream & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit Characters: TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson, Technoblade, Dream Length of the work: 29,976 words Genre: Angst, AU, Drama, Fantasy AU, Found Family, Historical AU, Hurt/Comfort, Urban Fantasy/Werewolf/Vampire AU Summary: SBI Victorian Vampire AU where Dream appears to be a Huntsman who has sent Tommy to spy on the vampire family of Philza, Technoblade, and Wilbur.

Title: Response to Danger Rating: M rated but might go higher later. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53414110/chapters/135193228 Fandom: QSMP Author: InsomniWillow Relationships: MissaSinfonia/Philza, Bolas Rojas Ensemble (QSMP) & MissaSinfonia, Bolas Rojas Ensemble (QSMP) & Philza Characters: Philza, MissaSinfonia, Cellbit, Etoiles, Baghera Jones, Slimecicle, Roier Length of the work: 3,739 words (incomplete) Genre: Angst, AU, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Smut, Slavery AU, Gladiator AU Summary: "Philza." The Observer boomed, and Phil frowned at him, but couldn't do much else. The big fucker raised both his arms in dramatic fashion, his long sweeping sleeves spreading out like large wings, and when he dropped him there were two people kneeling beside him, and Phil's stomach dropped in kind. "Pick your gift." "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Phil breathed, looking at the two men, heads bowed demurely. They almost could've been statues if they hadn't been breathing and Phil felt suddenly like he was on the verge of throwing up. Cellbit's face had gone cold and distant, and expression Phil hadn't seen in a long fucking time, and expression he'd never hoped to see again. "You can't be fucking serious." I.e. Missa is given to Philza as a prize. They both do their best despite the circumstances.

Title: Perché Ti Sento Lontana Da Mer Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53234041/chapters/134708440 Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP Author: amindofmyown Relationships: TangoTek & ZombieCleo, Solidarity/TangoTek, EthosLab & ZombieCleo, EthosLab & impulseSV & Skizzleman & TangoTek, Solidarity & LDShadowLady Characters: Tango, Cleo, Etho, Jimmy, Impulse, Skizz Length of the work: 5,137 words (incomplete) Genre: Angst, AU, Fluff, Found Family, Modern AU Summary: If there's one thing Cleo doesn't anticipate upon returning home from lunch with her best friend, it's a terrified, homeless child outside her house. Who hardly speaks English. Fuck. The small town of Hermitville, Oregon, is a boring, pleasant place. Especially for Cleo, who is perfectly content to keep the same old routine day after day. Until Tango shows up, scared, young, and alone, having left an abusive household several months prior. Cleo takes it upon herself to care for the child, enroll him in school, help him continue his life. But for Tango, life can never be the same. He feels empty, and lost, in a country that isn't his, where everybody speaks a language he struggles to understand. And then he meets Jimmy, and finds himself through music, and they show him that the grass really is greener on the other side.

#Nomination Overview

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leorawright · 2 years

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AAAAAAA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE THE MERCS ❤️❤️❤️

can you make some headcanons on how the mercs would react if they slowly started falling for their best friend (who is also a merc)? thank you!!!

Sure!

Mercs falling for their best friend

Scout

He gets a lot more nervous around you

He'll also try some bad pickup lines but you think he's just joking since you two are friends

He also gets a lot more touchy

Not in a weird way just more hugs asking for more cuddles hand hugs too

It would take him a long time to confess since he doesn't want to possibly ruin you twos friendship

Soldier

Takes him forever to notice

After like 2 months he'll realize 'oh I have a crush on them'

After he figures that out he'll try to show off around you more

Just trying to get more kills or showing off his rocket jumping

He can't flirt and you can convince me otherwise

He would confess pretty soon after he figures it out because it's killing him

Demoman

'Ohhh nooo I like them!'

He's so devastated because he doesn't want to confess and you reject him and start ignoring him or something

He tries his best to keep it on the down low

It's hard though when he's constantly blushing around you

If he ever did confess its probably while he's either drunk or sleep deprived because he's not really processing what he's saying

Pyro

A lot more affection from them

They give you the biggest hugs, you get more cuddles, they also have a fixation with rubbing your arm with the tip of their gas mask

They'll also make obvious drawings of the two of you with hearts but you think they're being sweet

It would take forever for you to understand they're confessing because they normally tell you they love you and give you affection

Heavy

Very flustered about it

He'll avoid you in hopes the feelings will pass

You're his best friend and he doesn't want to ruin the good times you have together

When you confront him about being disappearing he'll apologize

When he does confess he's very quiet about it and waits with a tense look on his face

Medic

Unlike Heavy he'll just spend more time around you

You make him happy do of course he would!

He'll cling to you seeking your attention every second he can

He loves friendly little touches like patting his back, hugs, holding hands, and all that cute stuff

When he confesses its very heartfelt because he wants to show how much he truly loves you

Sniper

Oh nah he does not have a crush on you

He'll always blush like mad when he's around you

He'll also flee and hide in his treehouse to avoid you

When it comes to confessing he'll take forever to do it

When he does he'll hide his face with his hat while stuttering out the question

Spy

He's very scared

He knows he doesn't have the best mental health and that he's a flirt which is why he thinks you wouldn't want to date him

He also won't change behavior much as to not alert you to his crush

If he does ever tell you its quick and simple before he flees from the scene

He also disappears from the base for several days before coming back and apologizeing

After that he'll ask you out properly

#tf2 x reader #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 spy x reader #tf2 pyro x reader

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evilphrog · 1 year

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The Locked Tomb: A summary by someone who has never read the series

I asked my husband to finally sit down with me and explain this damn book series. Heavy spoilers below. Or maybe not. We will see.

Husband: Okay, so the main character is Gideon. She is a redheaded lesbian and her –

Me: WAIT Gideon is a GIRL??? Why does everyone draw her looking like Crowley in a skull mask?

Him: Yeah, that’s pretty much what she looks like. SO, her long time crush/mortal enemy is named Harrowhark. Her parents were very worried their child wouldn’t be a necromancer, so they released a nerve gas that killed every child on their planet, and funneled their souls into Harrowhark. Nobody except Harrowhark’s family knew why all the kids on the planet died. Everyone else was so traumatized by it that they either left the planet or just never had kids again.

Me: Why did they want her to be a necromancer so bad?

Him: The fate of their planet depended on it. Or maybe it didn’t. Hard to say. But Harrowhark was born, and was a very powerful necromancer, and –

Me: Why did Havok need to be the necromancer?

Him: Harrowhark. Only necromancers can guard the locked tomb. It can honestly only be opened by a god, so guarding it is a bit pointless, but that is the whole purpose of their society, and the whole reason they live on that planet at all.

Me: Couldn’t they have just waited to see if any of the other 200 kids became necromancers?

Him: Listen, her parents are not the best at planning. We’ll get to that later. So Gideon was the only child that survived, and as a result, Harrowkark’s parent’s HATED her. Because they were scared of her.

Me: How did she survive?

Him: That’s a bit unclear. But when they were both ten, Harrowhark found out she has the souls of 200 dead children trapped in her body. She decided to kill herself, so she went to go open the tomb. And Gideon came along.

Me:To stop her?

Him: No.

Me: To kill herself also?

Him: Absolutely not. Gideon likes being alive more than anything else. She is a big fan of being alive.

Me: SO then why did she go along with Harrowhawk?

Him: Harrowhark. They are the only two children on the whole planet. I think it just hadn’t occurred to either of them that they could be apart. So Harrowhark was expecting to get killed by the necromantic traps around the tomb, but she was too powerful, and accidentally opened the tomb.

Me: So is Havelhawk a god?

Him: Harrowhark. No. She is just a really good necromancer.

Me: Kind of seems like the tomb would have been safer without any necromancers at this point.

Him: SOOO inside the tomb was a beautiful lady.

Me: Is this the barbie doll?

Him: …Sort of?

Me: The one possessed by the spirit of earth?

Him: The spirit of NATURE. But the spirit escapes when the tomb is opened.

Me: Then where did the soul go? Into Harkhawk?

Him: I feel like you’re doing this on purpose. But MAYBE. But the key here is that these are ten year olds, and they have no idea a soul escaped. Or didn’t escape. Hard to say. But Harrowhark decides not to kill herself, and the girls rush back home. Gideon confronts Harrowhark’s parents, and tells them everything they discovered about the murdered kids and opening the tomb. The parents are distraught, because not only did they fail their one goal, but now everyone will know they murdered 200 children. So they make a bunch of nooses, and they put one around Harrowhark’s neck. And then they say they will all kill themselves together. The parent’s jump, and hang themselves, but Harrowhark doesn’t.

Me: Wow, when you said they were bad at planning, you really meant it.

Him: Yeah. But now Harrowhark blames Gideon for her parents’ deaths. She is afraid if anyone finds out she is 200 dead children in a trenchcoat, they will kill her. So she necromances her parents to be basically meat puppets, and tells Gideon she will kill her if she tells anyone else.

Me: That makes no sense.

Him: It does if you are ten years old.

Me: Okay, fair.

Him: So, it’s now seven years later, and God has sent out a demand that one necromancer and their swordsman from each planet come to his home planet to be trained to become a super necromancer. Harrowhark’s swordsman is a 40 year old man who loves poetry and hates swords. He refuses to go with her, because it sounds like zero fun. So Harrowhark asks Gideon to be her swordswoman instead. Gideon refuses, so Harrowhark bribes her. She offers to pay for her to become an officer in the army after she completes Super Necromancer training. Gideon agrees, and they go off to train. But there is a surprise twist! At the end of training, John tells the necromancers that the –

Me: WHo is John?

Him: God.

Me: God’s name is John?

Him: Yeah.

Me: Okay, fine.

Him: And he tells them the only way to become super necromancers is to kill their swordsman and eat their souls!

Me: Wow, what an asshole. So does Harrock go through with it?

Him: Not at first, but then John tries to kill Harrowhark, and the only way Gideon can save her is by killing herself and force-feeding her soul down her throat.

Me: Because she is in love with her?

Him: Because she is in love with her.

Me: So now Harlock has 201 souls inside her?

Him: 202. Maybe. Because the spirit of nature might be there also. And it is hard to tell which soul is in charge. So everyone is trying to ask her a bunch of questions to figure out who she is.

Me: Why won’t she just tell them?

Him: She isn’t really sure herself. It’s a bit crowded in there with over 200 souls. She renames herself Nona, because she doesn’t want to be wrong about who she actually is. But this is a big key. The thing in the tomb WASN”T a barbie at all! See, 2,000 years ago, God and the spirit of nature were in a battle. God needed to lock her away, but he needed to give her a body first, so that he could lock it up. But he took the barbie body, and the spirit of nature took his old body. So technically, God is the barbie doll!

Me: John God the Barbie doll?

Him: Yes. It was a minor detail, so I don’t know if the tumblr people are messing with you, or if they missed that. But yes. The beautiful lady in the tomb is God’s body.

Me: So is John God pretty much just an evil necromancer that got too much power?

Him: Maybe? But this points to a very crucial detail. The way to become a Super Necromancer isn’t to eat the soul of your best friend at all! It is to voluntarily swap bodies with them!

Me: OOOHHHH! So then does Gideon end up having her soul put into God’s body now that nature is free and it’s just a spare?

Him: yes and no?

Me: None of this makes any sense. I’m just going to read it myself. Then I will actually understand.

Him: That is very optimistic of you.

#tlt #the locked tomb #best guesses #how did i do?#tlt spoilers

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dinosaurchurch · 2 years

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It comes to no surprise that after thinking I escaped I caught that terrifying thing that everyone had been talking about for the past 2 years. Honestly it’s going to sound weird but besides the initial 36 hours, Covid wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was. It’s no different than any other cold I’ve had at this point, probably a lot milder thinking about it (thanks being healthy and vaccines I guess?).

Makes me kinda chuckle at how absolutely goggled the whole world had been, the amount of mass hysteria and panic that ensued. The pandemic looking back at it almost seems to be surreal at this point - the misinformation, the tribalism, the politicization, hell even the divide it caused over everything from masks to vaccines. I’m glad we took it serious initially but to think that there’s still people out there that believe that we should never fully go back to normal and lockdowns should be our friends is an insane thought to me. Where do we draw the line? Where does it end and when do we start getting back to normal?

Probably one of the most interesting things that was highlighted throughout all of this was how well it showed people’s true colours. Some for the better and some for the worst; it really brought forth a lot of questions to the table about people’s humanity. Where do make the distinction of what’s the best for not only you but other people and how much are you willing to be selfless to ensure the safety of others? There was a lot of people that gave the illusion of caring when they didn’t, hard to pin point the problem that’s plagued humanity since the beginning of time when honesty and transparency weren’t always forefront and centre. Lies always seem to circulate when something big takes off and this was no exception to that rule. I perfectly understand why some folks couldn’t trust anyone, I felt like that myself.

It’s weird living through a moment in history where it’ll probably be viewed as a major turning point for the century - something that defined this decade for sure. I will absolutely say that things seemed much scarier from the start, but that’s how it always is isn’t it? Things are never that eccentric as what they once seemed. Life is never that exciting - it’s not like the Hollywood movies but I’m okay with that.

I don’t like being sick as much as the next person but we’ve done what we can. The events of 2020 and subsequently 2021 really showcased how unprepared and ill equipped we are to handle a lot of things. Probably one of the biggest thing is mental health issues. I may not have mentioned it but I tuned out the news (I still get some), I started focusing more on getting myself back on track pushing the unnecessary out of my mind and it worked albeit it took a while for me to find that equilibrium I was looking for. Covid and the surrounding culture that formed around it was like some sort of fever dream, that’s all anybody talked about for a while. You couldn’t escape it no matter where you went.

As someone who works in the public as an “essential worker” there was no breaks during lockdowns. I was balls deep in the insanity, seeing people waltz into places in literal gas masks and hazmat suits was wild. Guess after a while I just became numb to it after a matter of time. I kind of had to, after having some coworkers of mine commit suicide and hearing about Covid snagging some people within my own community it was something that I knew was going to be rough right out of the gate.

The pandemic and the following lockdowns shook up everything at it’s foundation. No such thing was a schedule anymore, I had to let up my reigns on how rigid I was or I’d face going insane since like a lot of folks I wrote off 2020 after a certain point and I completely tossed out any hopes for 2021. I think one of the worst parts was being left alone with my own thoughts for so long, not being able to do what I loved really set the mood. I think that’s why everything was like going through the hurricane over the past two years. There was times I felt okay but before that time period I didn’t know what a panic attack was and I didn’t know what was the endless spiral of every thought spelling out nothing but dread and doom either.

I know I’m not alone in saying I’m not the same person I was entering 2020 that I am now half way through 2022. I’ll admit it, I’m almost mad that this silly cold is what really turned the world upside down. We tried to cancel fun for this and what happened in the end? Covid is now endemic - it’s here to stay just like the flu. Nature literally gave all of us the middle finger and outsmarted us. Cheeky.

If there’s anything I can take away from this whole thing is I never want this to happen again. I’m a far cry from the shadow of a person I was last summer at the peak of my depression. It’s not easy wandering through the dark but it just makes bathing in the light that much more sweet.

#pandemic #spring 2022 #introspection #inner thoughts #personal #journal #vent #fuck covid #covid #looking back #summer is coming #isolation #perspective #cultural shift #turning point #lockdown

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imagineimpact · 3 years

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Caught (Scaramouche x Reader)

I got you! ♥

Caught

Scaramouche x Reader

It wasn’t like you had expected for it to happen but there you were, tied back by your wrists and locked up in some sort of cell. There were strangers around, all masked, keeping a keen watch on you. The fabric stuffed in your mouth kept you quiet. No one had said anything to you, but they most certainly were watching you. Every passing second made you feel worse, the hard clump that you felt in your chest tightening and making it hard to breath. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, but you knew that it might have gotten you in trouble if you did. You weren’t sure what exactly you had done to deserve such a thing.

You didn’t want the tears to leak out of your eyes, but they did. It felt like you were a kid in a timeout corner, locked and without being able to do anything. You had no choice but to let the quiet choking sounds escape you as you tried to calm yourself down and drastically failed. It was dark enough. Maybe the candlelight wouldn’t show it to those guarding your cage.

It was a pretty enough lie, at least.

The masks were watching you. You tried to drown out the sounds - the scoffs and the laughs - of mockery that they had made. Maybe the sounds were in your head, but maybe they were real. It was hard to tell, but it wasn’t your main concern; Making it all stop was the thought that hovered above everything else.

The door swung open. The person was backlit, only a silhouette in the distance of your blurry sights. Being unable to wipe the tears from your eyes, you tried to focus more, and to little avail.

The figure - with a familiar enough red scarf around him being the only identifying piece - stepped into the room; You had never seen a group of people come to attention so fast, restoring their manner as if they had been drawn to a magnet. He was looking at you, curious.

“Well, isn’t this a curious sight.” Childe’s words are simple.

“Sir, we found-“ one of the Fatui underlings begins, but with a wave of his hand and a quiet “shh” sound, they scuttle back into their place.

“No no.” Our eyes meet, and he squats down to meet my eye level. “Tell me dear, does he/ know you’re here?” The words feel like a whisper, spoken like a secret.

You go to speak but you can’t. You slowly shake your head.

“Is that the truth?” He asks, softly again.

You nod. He nods back, slowly. Assessingly.

“Okay.”

He stands back up, straightening out and looking around the room. “Where did you find them?”

“Sir, they were loitering around our business. We suspected that they may be a spy for-“

“A spy?” Childe laughs, quite outwardly. The fatui agents are surprised. “Oh, wow.” He looks back at you, eyes dancing over you. “Such a forlorn conclusion to be drawn. But, nonetheless, this is a serious matter.” He spins back around, facing the door and striding toward it. “Everyone in this room is to remain here.” He orders. A chorus of “yes sirs” ring out across the room, and he stalks out, closing the door behind him.

There’s a moment of silence for us all, and it lasts a few minutes. Then, a sense of forbode disperses like a gas through the room, leveling over everyone. Everything feels like energy has been released and no one wants to be in it, and everyone tenses, watching the door.

And there he is. Your heart pounds faster than it had before, and you are washed over with a sense of relief.

You are the only one.

“There you are.” He barely acknowledges anyone one in the room as he stalks over, clearly pissed off. He snaps his gaze to one of the fatui, murderous. “You. Tell me why the one person who never should have step foot in this place is locked up in front of me.”

“S-Sir-“

“Talk faster.”

The fatui agent, terrified of the electricity basically flying through the air, shakily explains that you had been lingering around the commerce center in Liyue, the one where Scaramouche had happened to be visiting for the time. You were both a long distance from where you were supposed to be. The agents had suspected that you were hanging around in order to steal information.

“And you were all responsible for this arrest?” His voice lowered dangerously. There was a slight hesitancy across the room, but everyone owned up to it.

You’d never seen him like this before. Not to this extent. You felt cold, not wanting to make any sounds.

“You must all have a death wish to do such a thing. Get out of my sight.” He demanded. When there was a slight hesitancy, he narrowed his eyes and turned more directly to them.

They scattered like scrambling mice, all heading toward the door.

He took the key off the table and held it tight, circling to the back of the cage and silently untiring your hands. He reached around and pulled the fabric from your mouth, then rested himself on the ground in a kneel.

You turn around and face him. His expression is resting, neutral. It hits you: a thought that maybe he could murder someone with such a calm gaze.

You don’t want to think it. You shrink back slightly, his gaze tilting to the side slightly as he watches you.

He says your name softly. You meet his gaze as he straightens his head once more. “You’re shaking.”

His words are simple, but you hadn’t realized it before. You also hadn’t realized, until this moment, that you had backed away from him when he untied you.

“You’re scared of me.” He says quietly.

It might be true. You can’t really tell.

He calls your name softly again, trying to draw your eyes back to him. You do. “Look at me, please.” You meet those eyes again as he takes his hat off and rests it on the table behind him. “Are you alright?”

It’s a simple question. You know it’s purpose and you give him what he’s beckoning for, “I’m...” It’s a more difficult question to answer than you had expected. “I’m scared.”

“I see.”

“Not you... this.” Your eyes wander around the cage, and you pull your knees to your chest. You let the remaining tears fall on the fabric of your clothing, and you stare back at him.

“Alright. Alright.” He takes a deep breath, and his eyes crease. “Why don’t you start by telling me if those putrid guards were telling the truth?”

“I wasn’t spying. I just... Yes, I was lingering.” You sigh, deeply, and shift up to be closer to him, resting on your folded legs in front of him. “I just wanted to see you.” It’s a quiet admission of thought. You’re not quite sure what to even think about it.

“You wanted to see me.” His voice is soothing. He stands up from his place on the ground and walks over to the other side of the cage, unlocking it and stepping in, standing over you. You shift to face him, keeping silent. He places a hand on your head, then kneels right there, is front of you, and let’s his hands rest on your waist instead. “You risked your life, do you understand that? If they were competent they would have just killed you right there.”

You blink. You don’t know if you ever stopped shivering, or if it started again, but you feel that sense of panic return. “Killed me?”

“Yes.” He pulls you into his chest, tightly. “You are unbelievably lucky right now.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only think you can choke out. “I didn’t think-“

“Shh.” He sighs, running his hand through your hair. “You didn’t know.” The softness gives you whiplash from the sudden switch.

You’re not sure what to say. For a few moments, he just holds you close to him, and really you’re not quite sure whether he expects you to say anything else.

The sigh he lets out is deep, exhuming through the air as if it could push walls. You feel his chest puff back up after a few seconds as he regains all of his air. The way he holds you, you can tell that the situation is exhausting for him. His grip on you tightens quickly, suddenly.

“What am I going to do with you?” The question is quiet, strange. It doesn’t feel like something he would say.

As if realizing that very fact, he pulls away and stands up quickly, taking your hands and pulling you up. “You should be returning home by tonight.” He turns away. “You are never to go near the other Harbingers or the fatui again, do you understand?” He wanders over to the other side of the cage again to retrieve his hat, gently swaying it so that the fabric eases itself out of any folds before placing it upon his head. “You would be foolish to try and hurt yourself like that again.”

You step out of the cage, closing the door of it as you do. He steps around once again and lifts your chin, gently pushing you against the cage and giving you a kiss. It was not the kind of kiss that was given for a long-distance goodbye. It was the kind that you gave a lover to tease them, to tell them that you would see them that night. The kind that, when parted, isn’t enough.

When he steps away from you, pulling you by your hand toward him and resting a hand on your waist, a glimmer of that softness that he has when you’re alone together shines to you.

It’s the one reassurance that you have, that he truly loves you.

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #imagines #Scaramouche #Scaramouche x reader #oneshot #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #scenarios #genshin fic #Scaramouche fic #imagineimpact #genshin impact x reader #hurt/comfort #my writing

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imagineslashers · 4 years

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First Words Soulmate AU

okay so i love this au, and i’m not sure if it’ve done it before, but i’m doing it now so enjoy! essentially, the first words you ever speak to your soulmate are imprinted on you somewhere and same for them, if you aren’t familiar with this au! x

WARNING for violence and death and swearing!

also sorry this is long yikes-

Jason

To be perfectly honest, you had lost all hope of ever meeting your soulmate, if going only by the words on your wrist - or rather, the lack of words. All you have imprinted on your skin is a dash, a wobbly line, and nothing else. From day one, you had merely accepted the fact that your soulmate was likely dead, or going to die, before you’d ever have the chance to meet them.

Your trip to an old camping ground was purely as an escape, to break away from all your friends who were happily in love and all met their soulmates. It was overwhelming, the joy they were suffocating your lonely self with, so you needed to get away.

Hiking through the cool afternoon air, your heart lays heavy in your chest, proving that even distance and ignorance can’t shield you from the pain. Anxiously, your fingers rub at your exposed wrist, and the crooked line across it. An owl hoots in the distant treetops, reminding you of your isolation.

You pause, taking a minute to breathe in deeply, stretching your sore muscles, and peering at the glimpse of the lake through the distant tree trunks. A slight sound distracts you, a brief snapping of a twig, and all the birds stop singing. A deer, perhaps? Your head turns slowly, taking in the surroundings. Even the insects seem to be holding their breath, the forest blanketed by a harsh silence.

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you exhale shakily, deciding to push on and try to reach a clearing where you may feel less trapped. It doesn’t help. The more steps you take, the more aware you become of the sensation, constantly looking over your shoulder.

When your nerves are entirely fried, the sudden flight of a startled crow sends you into a fully fledged panic, bolting through the trees. The quiet snapping of twigs becomes a heavy thudding, trembling the ground and you no longer waste time by looking back, powering through the forest.

There’s a looming shadow that falls over you and your voice escapes in a shriek, realising the inevitable. You’re not fast enough. The world spins as your shirt is grabbed, yanking you backwards and throwing you off your feet. Rolling across the dirt for a few seconds, you’re finally stopped staring up at the hulking masked figure. There’s a machete in his left hand, and a shred of your shirt in his right. He steps over you, feet either side of your hips and pulls back his arm.

You instinctively lift your hands to defend yourself, turning your head away and gasping for breath. “P-please!” You whimper, heart racing like a hummingbird. “Please don’t!”

He freezes, pulls back, and blinks at you from behind his mask. After a few painfully slow moments, he rotates his arm holding the machete, and you’re able to glimpse three words inscribed down his arm. They’re the words you spoke.

It all clicks and you realise he doesn’t, or can’t, speak. You shakily lift your wrist to show him your mark. He appears bewildered, stunned at the thought of having a real soulmate as much as you, then finally extends a wary hand. You take it.

Bubba

The road trip was a stupid idea, you said that from the start. However, you had been dragged along by your friends to celebrate a few milestones in your lives, and so succumbed to their pleading. Now, you sit rigidly in the back of their car, waiting anxiously. How long does it take to pay for fuel?

Your mind is racing, it’s been nearly half an hour and you haven’t heard anything. You elected to stay behind to keep an eye on the car while they went inside to get snacks, but that shouldn’t take too long, right?

A light flickers in the back of the old gas station, and with it the sound of a machine, perhaps a chainsaw or similar tool. You try to shrug it off. It’s a dilapidated country station, they’re probably fixing something or working at the back.

However, you can’t ignore the screaming, or the sudden bursting open of the door. Your friend’s boyfriend comes streaking out, face ashen, bolting past you. You lean out of the window, eyes wide, calling his name but he ignores you. A whoosh of air rushes past your head and an axe lands squarely in the back of his head. You scream, jerking yourself back into the car before kicking the door open and almost falling out.

You don’t have the keys, but running is obviously pointless. Instead, you bolt for the gas station, hoping to find a phone or a weapon or something! You don’t make it that far before the axe thrower steps out into the light, breathing heavily. He’s hard to make out, but you recognise the bloody apron and odd looking mask as immediately a threat, if you hadn’t already witnessed what he’d just done.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Shocked by his appearance, you find your feet are sluggish and unresponsive. He notices you but doesn’t charge, instead making cautious steps towards you, dragging a large chainsaw. He mumbles something, just a string of sounds, as if trying to soothe you like an injured deer. It takes hearing more screaming for you to start stepping backwards quickly, unwilling to take your eyes off of him. Your back thuds into something solid and your hair is twisted into an iron grip, making you cry out.

“Got ‘em! Hurry up and finish it so we can go home already.” The man behind you reeks of blood and sweat, his accent almost masking his words. The one with the chainsaw makes a muffled noise of distress, closing the distance between you and shoves the one holding you backwards, releasing the grip on your hair.

“The hell, Bubba?” He growls, but the much taller male hisses, grabbing your arm and pulling you back with him. This captor, Bubba, starts desperately pulling up his pant leg, seemingly having forgotten where his mark is, but finally twists around to see the back of his calf. Your words in shaky handwriting are scrawled across his flesh.

Shocked, you pull down your shirt and try to inspect the nonsensical letters along your collarbone. Bubba makes a slight squeal, pulling you against his chest, delighted to finally have his soulmate! Still in shock, you allow him to lead you to their truck, your heart swelling but your head spinning. Oh well, not like you have much choice anyway!

Freddy

Bad dream would probably be an understatement, that’s what you think as you find yourself sprinting painfully slowly through a boiler room, steam burning your skin as you pass. Laughter rings out, bouncing off the walls and startling you. Bitterness creeps into your heart, a sour taste in your mouth as you try not to fall into the sick games you know are going to begin.

“Where are you, you prick?!” You yell, hands balled into fists, stomping your foot for effect. You’re terrified, naturally, but not going to die looking like a wimp or giving him the satisfaction. You know all about him from the teens in your neighbourhood.

Freddy comes bounding around a corner, looking expectantly gleeful and sadistic, his gloved hand dragging along the wall. His face breaks into a grin, but you recognise the flash of panic in his face, which confuses you all the more. Why would he be scared?

You step back, ready to throw yourself into a fight or flight, but he just looks at you dumbly, huffing, amusement fading. “What did you say?” Something clicks in his mind and he stalks towards you. “Say it again.”

You’re ready to tell him where he can shove his request when you understand the significance of his words. His first words to you.

“Oh, shit, no way!” Your words leave you a breathless rush and it makes him laugh. He’s so badly burnt that your words have been essentially destroyed from his wrist, but he’d never forget what they said. You carefully roll up your shorts and expose the slanted writing wrapped around your thigh. Freddy looks a little stunned, and annoyed, but he finally sighs dramatically in defeat.

“Okay, guess you’re mine then, baby!” He resigns himself to it like a child having to do chores, grabbing your hand in his exposed one, pulling you with him.

Michael

Halloween is arguably one of the best holidays, but you don’t agree with that statement anymore as you’re creeping through the dark streets, trying not to be noticed. The news headlines were that the killer was on a streak, getting more creative with every victim, and you’re determined not to be the next one.

Unfortunately, you live in his neighbourhood, so you didn’t have any options when the television at your work lit up with a warning to stay home. And your car broke down, so you’re now stuck walking home, jumping at the sound of every meow and car horn. Pulling your coat tighter around your frame, you hurry down the street, passing under a streetlamp which illuminates your white knuckles wrapped tightly around your bag.

There’s a siren in the distance and that assures you, just a little, that perhaps the killer is being brought down right now. With that in mind, you let out a breath which escapes you in a puff of smoke in the cold air. Clinging tightly to your reassurances, you speed up a little, having reached your street. Relief washes through you, as well as embarrassment at how terrified you’d been.

You chuckle to yourself, rounding the corner to your house when you see him. A huge black shadow, stepping out from the neighbouring house, his knife stained crimson. You both stand in silence, staring at one another, before you decide to try your luck at running.

You turn around and sprint the way you’d come, biting your lip so hard it draws blood. Your breath comes in short puffs as your body is pushed beyond the limits. He may have the advantage of being quicker, but you know this area. Ducking down an alleyway, you launch yourself onto a wooden fence, scrambling to get over. You’re just about to when a cold hand wraps around your ankle and yanks you back down.

The force of it knocks the wind from your lungs as you lay on your back, gasping. The stranger crouches over you, pressing the tip of his blade to the hollow of your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Just do it!” You manage to force out.

The blade pulls away and you risk peeking one eye open to see the white mask. Your killer is shocked, looking almost like a stone figure, unable to move or breathe. He never wanted a soulmate, didn’t believe in it, but now you’re laying under him and he can’t kill you.

Angrily, he slams his fist into the concrete by your head and you flinch, eyes wide open now as he stares back at you. There’s a quiet word he mutters, just loud enough for you to catch it. “Fuck.”

You barely have time to question him, recognising that one word from the one that’s imprinted on your shoulder blade, before he’s hauling you up and carrying you off bridal style, one hand still tightly clutching his knife.

Beetlejuice

The motel room is kinda dingy- well, it’s very dingy if you’re honest, but you’re so exhausted you can’t bring yourself to do more than collapse on the bed. You’d been travelling for a few days on your way to a new town to start up your new career, passing through this idyllic little town. It’s cute, very homey, but the motel is pretty old.

Whatever, you just need to sleep. Rolling onto your stomach, you pull out your phone and check your messages. The television starts playing. Sitting up, you strain your ears but hear only some corny romance film. Rolling your eyes, you decide that you’re leaving as soon as the sun rises, but begrudgingly force yourself to walk into the living area to turn off the television.

Once you do, you put the remote on the coffee table, making sure it can’t fall or turn itself on again. Turning around, you start walking back to the bed when it turns on, louder this time. Your brows furrow in annoyance as you return and turn it off, smacking the side of the set for good measure.

After staring at the black screen for a few seconds, you decide it’s done being irritating and once again try to walk back to bed. You’ve just collapsed on your side when it turns on again.

Gritting your teeth, you rub your eyes and contemplate how much effort it would be to walk back to reception to ask for a new room. You’ve just decided on getting up when you feel the bed dip behind you, fingertips tracing your arm. Your heart nearly bursts in terror.

“You don’t like this movie?” The words come out dripping in sarcasm and amusement from the stranger behind you. Immediately, your body reacts defensively and you leap from the bed, whirling around to punch the intruder. He yelps in surprise, hand over his nose.

“You asshole! Get out of my room!” You yell, barely able to contain your emotions, completely glazing over the realisation that those words are on your lower back. However, the intruder does notice and sits up excitably, eyeing you like a prize. You’re not sure where to look first, the green hair or the dirty striped suit.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to find you in a motel room, but hey, can’t complain!” He grins, his expression resembling that of a wolf. He pops the buttons on his shirt and you’re stuck standing in confusion as you read back the words you just yelled at him, imprinted on his collar.

“No.” You point at him, then the door. “Not happening. Go away and come back at a decent hour.” He laughs, but then realises you’re serious, whining as he pulls himself from the bed.

“You’re mean. I like it. See you in the morning!” He disappears in a hazy cloud of purple smoke, leaving you coughing and wondering if you hallucinated.

Billy & Stu

School sucks. Not only because of the obvious; preppy kids, bullies, annoying teachers, homework. No, you’re annoyed because everyone is falling madly in love with their soulmates, throwing it in your face. You’re a freak to most, because you don’t have your soulmate mark. You have two.

Wearing long sleeves is how you conceal it, but everyone knows you’re different, the rumours started as soon as you walked in the door. Irritable, you resign yourself to having to deal with not only the first day at a new shitty school, but also being the object of much taunting on said first day.

You manage to sail through most of your classes by ignoring everyone else, but by lunch time, you can’t avoid it. Your feet carry you to an empty table where you hope to just have a quiet meal. That, of course, can never happen for you.

Two rather imposing looking teens slink over to you, and you recognise them as the school’s bad boys, popular kids if a little weird, Billy and Stu. You look down and continue picking at a sandwich, hoping that if you pretend they don’t exist, they’ll do the same for you and move onto someone else.

Once again, that doesn’t happen for you. “Hello, gorgeous.” Billy sits in the seat next to you and Stu sidles up on the opposite one, both of them grinning. “Why are you sat alone, baby?” Stu purrs. You’ve had enough of being taunted today and you stand up, causing your chair to scream in protest against the tacky floors.

“Can everyone just leave me the hell alone?” You scowl, grabbing your bag and missing the look that the boys exchange in surprise. Billy nods, and Stu grabs your arm.

“Hey!” You try to pull it back, but Billy takes your other one and they both pull up your sleeves. Sure enough, the words they just greeted you with are on your arms, one of each. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, and relief, at finding your soulmates.

Stu lets go first, practically bouncing on the spot as he lifts his shirt to show you what you said written angrily across his ribs. Billy’s next, he has the same words but wrapped around his ankle.

You’re in a state of shock when they coax you back into your seat, one hanging one each of your arms. There’s no way you’re getting away now, especially not with the way they’re looking at you like you’re their favourite toy.

The Man

The night was finally quietening down when you decided to sit on the porch for a bit, a hot drink cupped in your hands, listening to the crickets.

Your decision to live in a wooded area is probably one of the best you’ve made, or at least that’s what you believe as you enjoy the blissful peace of your surroundings. Blowing on your drink, you almost don’t notice the figure in the corner of your eye.

Expecting one of the neighbours checking in about something, you aren’t immediately alarmed, sitting up a bit straighter to try and make them out in the shadows. The stranger doesn’t speak, so neither do you, but the longer you both stare at one another, the worse the feeling in your gut becomes. Something isn’t quite right.

You’ve just decided to go back inside when he starts approaching. Coming nearer to your porch lights, you can finally see that he’s wearing a mask, and across his back he’s carrying a crossbow. Adrenaline shoots into your veins and you leap up, your mug smashing. The display of alertness doesn’t concern him, he continues approaching at a leisurely pace, dragging his hand across the side of your car as he comes up the driveway.

You walk backwards to the front door, making sure you can keep him in your sights at all times, your hand fumbling for the handle. He waves at you, and you sense he’s smiling under his mask, judging by the delighted, predatorial glint in his eyes. You simply scowl in response, attempting to hide the way your body trembles as you finally get the door open and jump backwards, slamming it shut.

He leaps up the porch steps and stands outside the door, his shadow spilling in from under the door. You step back, holding your breath. The shadow retreats with the sound of boots, leaving you frozen to the spot listening for him.

The silence becomes so painful that when he finally does make a noise, it startles you. Tracking it down, you find him stood outside your kitchen by the large window, head tilted as he peers inside at you, still jovial and content to be terrifying you.

Unwilling to show him your fear any further, you point at the alarm system, indicating you can set it off to alert authorities. Yelling to be heard through the glass, your words get his attention easily.

“You better leave, or I’m going to make sure they haul your sorry ass to prison!”

He steps back, much to your surprise, and then lifts his mask. You’re taken aback by his face - attractive - and don’t notice him pulling up his hoodie. There in cursive along his hip is your handwriting, and the threat you just gave him. His face breaks out into a grin as he jumps back to his position right up against the glass.

“Show me yours!” His voice is elevated by his delight and you step away, warily lifting your arm to reveal his demand written along your outer forearm. Like a kid given candy, he knocks excitably against the glass. “Let me in! You’re so mine!”

The Blissfield Butcher

What a shitty day. You missed the bus trying to get home from work, and then it started raining. By the time you’d made it to the next operating bus stop, your clothes had been successfully drenched, leaving you shivering under the meagre shelter provided.

Cursing your boss for lecturing you and in turn making you late to leave, you hug your arms around yourself. A ping goes off from your pocket, then another, and another, until you give up on trying to warm yourself and fish around in your pockets to find the source. Your phone lights up your face in the darkness. An amber alert prompts all residents to stay home if they can, following a string of murders.

You exhale sharply, trying to centre your thoughts on anything other than the anxiety creeping into the back of your mind. Your gaze lifts from the screen and is immediately drawn to a passing shadow, which halts the second you look at it. Unsure if you’re seeing things, you put your phone away and squint through the rain, attempting to distinguish whether it’s someone you know.

Likely just a passer-by, you resume huddling under the shelter. The shadow moves away, and your anxiety with it. However, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. After a few minutes, the shadow reappears and you realise it’s circling you from a distance. The reality sets in and you curse, chancing up your options. Glancing over your shoulder, you can see your workplace still lit up a few blocks down. You could run there, but you’re not sure how fast the figure is.

When you tear your eyes away from your distant workplace, you realise that looking away had been a mistake, the shadow significantly closer and now more obviously a male. A very tall male, in a mask. You curse under your breath and decide to risk it, your aching legs once again forced into action. The bitterly cold rain makes running harder, and it’s worse trying to see where you’re going as it starts to come down heavier, masking the sounds of your stalker.

You shoot a quick look over your shoulder, your heart jumping at how close he is, within reaching distance. Your mind makes a quick decision and you jerk to the side so his grab misses you, whilst you run down another street onto a local sports field, now dark and silent.

The wet grass clings to your feet, slowing you down, but you don’t have time to reflect on this mistake because your shoved from behind. The force of your momentum and the power behind the shove sends you skidding on your front, grazing your cheek.

He’s on you before you can blink, pushing you onto your back, straddling your hips. His eyes are wild behind the mask as he uses one hand to keep your shoulder down, the other gripping a butcher’s knife. Your efforts at squirming are denied by his sheer weight and the force of his thighs trapping your lower half. Seeing no other option, you start to panic and gasp, the rain still soaking you both.

“Wait, please, don’t!” Your tears mix into the rain as your hands desperately push against him, one accidentally knocking his mask off. He’s distracted by this and you continue, your hands instead lowering to protect your face. “I know a lot of cops, I-I-” the excuse tumbles from your mouth, but cuts off when you notice the black writing on his neck. “Oh.” Your voice is reduced to a whimper, reading back what you’ve said to him.

He sighs, stabbing the grass and sitting back, looking at you expectantly. “Um, are you not going to kill me?” You curse the way your words shake as you look up at him. The ghost of a smile touches his lips and he grips your wrist, pulling you up. He doesn’t stop there, throwing you over his shoulder and stooping to pick up his knife. “I’m not gonna kill what’s mine.” He growls the words, sending a chill through you as those familiar words are etched onto your arm.

#soulmate au #slasher imagines #jason voorhees x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #freddy krueger x reader #michael myers x reader #hush 2016 #the man x reader #blissfield butcher x reader #billy x stu x reader #beetlejuice x reader #reader inserts

1K notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 4 years

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Anxious

Prelude - It took me three evenings to write this (EW that’s the longest I've ever taken) and it’s RLLY long (almost 10k) so be warned. The style is mean’t to be jumbled, grammatically incorrect, and awful, rushed, and incoherent. My day-to-day life process is like this but worse lol and I wanted to capture just the feeling of bad that exists. Have fun.

(Ps Kirishima is the subtlest of creeps here. Def a stalker, but good at lying, and reader is too gullible.)

Pairing - Yandere Kirishima X GN Reader

Warnings - anxiety, panic attack, non con, NSFW, idk the usual.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/1qFMIjTe9esCDiytqUY19t?si=RrkIvlXMReyT6CYKEh6xdw

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh god, is that Pro-Hero Red Riot?

Your hands tremble as you lift your drink to your lips, take a shaky sip.

It feels too hot in here, is it hot? You scream internally.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Red Riot, your favorite Pro-Hero in the entire world, was currently standing in line at Starbucks, looking up at the menu with his big, dumb, handsome face. He was wearing his hero costume - meaning he was on-duty, abs out and mask on.

As usual, you had ordered your regular drink, immediately sat down (always the blue armchair by the window, the one with the little table next to it). Normally you ignored each little tinkling of the bell above the door, the sound signaling another person entering the coffee shop. You just wanted to nurse your drink and look at stupid memes on your phone, try to gas yourself up for the day ahead, convince yourself that you would be able to get through whatever life decides to throw at you.

A particularly violent shake of the bell had your head snapping up, the loud noise startling you.

And holy fuck.

Red Riot.

Your cheeks were burning as you lowered your eyes to your phone, knowing that the big man was moving up in line, then ordering, then probably moving to wait near the drink pickup.

Looking up was out of the question - you didn’t want to ogle the Hero and make him feel uncomfortable, or for him to catch sight of your stupid blushing.

You almost dropped your drink the next time you raised it to your lips, your hands were so sweaty.

And of course that little slip-up had your heart beating ever faster, embarrassed that you had almost made a mess all over yourself, self conscious that someone had seen, oh god, what if people were looking at you, thought you were dumb and couldn’t even drink correctly? Oh god.

You set your drink back onto the little table at your side. A quick glance upward (to check the clock, that’s where your eyes went) and you could see Red Riot out of the corner of your eye, smiling as he took a picture with a fan as they both waited for their respective drinks.

Wouldn’t that be cool, to get a picture with him? But oh, that would mean you’d have to stand up, stumble over awkwardly towards him. Could you leave your drink on the side table? Would your seat be taken before you got back?

The hero would probably be able to spot you from a mile away, see how weirdly you walk, how your body looked. The thought made you cringe; he was so muscled and fit and in-shape, he’d probably think you were fat, or maybe weak? He’d be disgusted, wouldn’t he.

If you managed to get close enough to ask him if he wouldn’t mind taking a picture with you, he’d have to hear your voice crack, see how you shook like a tiny chihuahua from nervousness, see how sweaty and flushed you were from the embarrassment of being alive, of being seen.

God, you hated yourself.

You could never approach the Pro-hero and ask for a picture. He’d see how revolting, how weird and nervous and pathetic you were.

Plus, you’d already talked to the barista to get your coffee, had walked to the coffeeshop all by yourself and committed yourself to the horrifying ordeal of being known and seen by society. You’d done enough today to make your anxiety skyrocket, your hands were already shaking so bad, it’s a miracle you hadn’t dropped your drink or your phone or done something stupid and embarrassing to call attention to yourself.

“Red Riot!” Your eyes flickered up at the barista shouting, saw Red Riot smile and compliment the barista as they handed over his drink, something large and brightly colored and sporting an ungodly amount of whipped cream on top.

Red Riot left the Starbucks, the bell above the door jingling just as violently as it had when he had entered - the man was enthusiastic about seemingly everything, even opening and closing a door.

That’s actually one of the reasons he was your favorite. Red Riot was so confident and self assured, beaming with positivity and kindness. It was clear to see that he loved his job, that he loved life. Of course, you had seen him have bad days - in a few of the interviews after big rescues or horrific fights, his smile seemed to waver a bit, his eyes getting misty as the casualties were mentioned.

But that just showed he was human. Sensitive.

You grabbed your drink again, grimaced as nausea washed over you in a gentle wave. You were such a nervous wreck. But Red Riot had left - the only people here now were the employees and the people waiting in line. You just prayed none of them would pay attention or take notice of you.

----

He was here again.

Holy fuck, he was here again!

This time you weren’t as nervous (a mild feeling of excitement could be felt), you could actually drink out of your Starbucks cup without shaking like a leaf.

The redheaded hero had gotten his drink already, once again something large and colorful and probably loaded with sugar. But instead of leaving immediately, he moved to sit down and holy fuck - holy fuck he was walking right past you.

You didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself by moving - humans will subconsciously look towards movement, you knew that. But he walked further, you saw him sit down by the corner window, settling into the seat comfortably. He was wearing his hero outfit again, abs rippling as he leaned back, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him fiddling with his mask before taking it off and chucking onto the table in front of him.

Ah, so he was probably on a break.

Averting your eyes back to your phone, you tried to ignore his presence. He was a human being, just like yourself, who deserved and probably appreciated his privacy. God knows, if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want fans to even think about you, much less look at you.

Minutes passed, maybe twenty? Thirty? But you had finished your drink. Now it was time to will yourself to your feet, to breathe, in, out. You were going to walk over to the trashcan, throw your drink cup away, and leave to walk back home.

Oh, but you were nervous.

You always felt nervous - this was a common occurrence, and each time you came here (you visited this Starbucks maybe twice a week) there was always this fight with your anxiety.

People would look at you as soon as you stood up. Did you walk weird? Your body had weird proportions, people would be mocking you inside their heads as you walked. Your outfit wasn’t trendy, it didn’t fit your body right, you looked odd and out-of-place - that’s probably what people thought as soon as their eyes landed on you.

You’d get judged for your drink cup - the size, because people would probably think it was too big for somebody with your body. Or maybe too small? Would people think you don’t take care of yourself?

Oh god, what if it slipped out of your hand as you were walking over? Even with it being empty, the noise of the cup hitting the floor would draw everyone’s eyes to you. They’d watch as you scramble to pick it up, and they’d probably think how clumsy and awkward and incompetent you were.

And what if the trashcan was full? Would you carry your empty cup home with you? That would look weird, someone carrying an empty cup down the street. I mean, who does that? Well, you’d seen other people do it, watched them carry their drink until they reached a trashcan, and then throw it away. But what if there weren’t any public trashcans nearby? You’d look so odd, fumbling along trying so hard to walk normally, to not draw attention to yourself, to blend in with everyone.

Should you turn around to see if there was another trashcan in the Starbucks? Oh, but that might look stupid. The employees had seen you so often, you’d look like a fool for not knowing if there was another trashcan.

Ugh, and your walk. You have to focus on straightening your shoulders, keeping your back straight, moving your arms - just a little, not too much. Taking even steps, not walking with a heavy foot or making any stomping or scuffing sounds.

There was so much to focus on, too much. And now you had been sitting here for five minutes, knuckles white as you gripped your empty drink cup. You looked like a moron.

You could do this.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Remind yourself that people didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to all of the lame little things that you did. You anxiety was misplaced, you worried about things too much, and everything was fine.

You were okay, you could do this.

And so you stood, walked to the trashcan by the door (oh thank god, it was empty), and threw your cup away.

You heard Red Riot saying bye to the employees, his cheery, upbeat voice as he laughed at something one of them said. Oh, had something been said about you? Were the employees and Red Riot laughing about what a disaster you were?

No, you were just being nervous, that was your anxiety talking. Red Riot wasn’t that kind of person, and the employees weren’t either. You knew this.

The door jingled as you opened it, and you heard footsteps behind you so you moved to the side after you had gone through, holding the door open for whoever was behind you.

“Thanks cutie!”

Red Riot was fixing his mask as he strolled past, and your head snapped up, flushing fiercely as you met his gaze. You smiled awkwardly, throwing up a feeble thumbs-up.

Oh god, why did you do that?

Red Riot smiled back at you, giving his own exuberant thumbs-up. Well, at least he was doing it too. That made your anxiety quiet down a bit, emboldened by your favorite Pro-Hero.

You watched his broad back as he walked away, muscles flexing with each step. He really was a beautiful man, both inside and out.

----

The next time you went to Starbucks, you reached the door right as someone else did (even though you saw them walking towards the door, even though you slowed down your pace so they would reach the door first and would go inside so you wouldn’t have to do that awkward dance of who-gets-the-door and who-goes-inside-first).

But they pierced through the awkwardness, yanked the door open for you and stepped to the side and motioned for you to go in first.

It was Red Riot.

He was wearing casual clothes today, ripped jeans and a dark hoodie, but you’d recognize that spike red hair anywhere, those gleaming shark teeth too.

You nodded your thanks quickly, hurrying through the door so he wouldn’t have to stand there for long. Immediately you headed for the bathroom, not wanting to have the Pro-Hero standing in line behind you. He was intimidating, but in the nicest way possible. You were just afraid there was something about you that he would think to be weird, or odd, or out-of-place.

Better to just avoid the situation altogether.

When you finished your business (you were a nervous pee-er), you ordered your drink, deciding to be bold this time and try something different from your usual choice. It was the little things, the small little bits of life that made you anxious - those were the things that you tried to overcome. I mean, life’s all about the small victories, right? And hopefully if you built up enough small victories, you could have a really big victory someday, like telling your favorite barista that you liked her hair, or picking a different seat to sit in, or trying to make a friend with another customers as you waited in line.

But for today, the small victory was stepping outside of your comfort zone just a little bit, getting something new that you weren’t used to.

You ordered, waited patiently for your drink to be made, and then turned to go settle down in your blue armchair by the window.

And Red Riot was sitting in your seat.

Fuck.

Your hands were suddenly sweaty, and you felt the familiar pang of an upset tummy. You were so tired of being nervous, of freaking out every single time there was a small change that you weren’t aware of, or if something happened that you couldn’t control.

There was an armchair opposite the one you always chose - also blue, but not as comfortable and certainly not with a good view out the window. It directly faced your usual spot, but in all your time coming here, no one had ever sat in it. A first you had just figured it was uncomfortable, but as you came here more and more, you figured that the nook was probably for couples rather than individual coffee drinkers.

The time you visited was a bit odd, eight PM, a few hours before closing. But it was the least crowded at this time, and the sun was barely setting, and it was the perfect time for you to be unbothered and by yourself.

But there was Red Riot, invading your (unofficial) space.

But it was okay, you could just sit somewhere else.

It felt weird, sliding onto one of the chairs at a small table. You were so used to your usual, safe routine that this threw you off. You were shaking so bad that you missed your mouth on your first try of sipping at the straw. What an idiot.

You had to try again, holding the straw this time, before you could actually taste the drink.

Selfishly, you wished Red Riot had chosen a different chair. But he was entitled to sit anywhere he liked, and it was obvious he enjoyed this particular Starbucks. Judging by the familiarity with the employees, he was becoming a regular like yourself. You only came once or twice a week, but he probably got his drink fix more often than you did.

Hopefully he didn’t think you were stalking him.

Oh god, what if he thought you were stalking him? How would you show that you weren’t stalking him? Come on a different day? At a different time? But you were here first, this was your routine, and that was your chair!

But man, you really didn’t want to make the Pro-Hero uncomfortable - he’d probably had a few crazy fans who had stalked him before.

Sighing, you sipped slowly at your drink, pulling out your phone to look at memes and text a few to your friends. You could still go about your routine, even if you were sitting in a different spot.

----

You ran into him at the grocery store.

It was in the produce aisle, where you were trying to decide between red apples or green, weighing the pros-and-cons of each decision in your head. You probably looked like an idiot, standing in front of the apples and doing nothing but staring at them, but you needed to ignore that right now.

“Yo, Starbucks buddy!”

The shout rang out across the produce section, and you flinched, suddenly drawn out of your apple-selection process.

It was late, almost ten PM, who and why was shouting in the grocery store??

You weren’t one to turn and stare, but you were curious, and surely whoever shouted like that wouldn’t mind a few questioning looks thrown their way.

And so you glanced over your shoulder, expecting to see a bunch of teenage boys greeting each other, or maybe a man saying hi to his friend.

Red Riot was excitedly waving at you.

Your brain blanked. Immediately, you turned your head, trying to see if there was someone else he was waving at. But there was no one around you - hell, there wasn’t even anyone else in the produce section except for you and the hero.

So he had to be waving at you.

Turning your whole body this time, you gave an awkward imitation of his wave, and let out a soft, croaky “Hey…” as the big man walked closer.

He had a big dumb smile on his big dumb face, and as he reached you, it grew even wider.

“Starbucks buddy! I didn’t mean to make you flinch, my bad. I know I can get a little loud sometimes, haha.” He stopped right in front of you, a grocery basket filled to the brim with meat and a few vegetables clutched on one of his large hands. God, he was so strong, you would be struggling to carry such a heavy basket, and here he was lugging it around like it had nothing but a loaf of bread in it. Red Riot could probably squish your skull to a pulp with just his hand, goddamn he was big.

You shrugged at his words, desperately willing your brain to work and to think of something smart and eloquent and good-to-say. “It’s uh, it’s-it’s fine. I’m just y’know, one of those nervous people, y’know?”

Wow.

Good job brain.

But the Pro-Hero smiled gently, putting his basket down on the ground.

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

Wait, what?

“I’ve seen you a couple times at Starbucks, the one on Grant and 1st. You always seem… well, nervous whenever I see you. At first I just thought it was because I was there, cause y’know, people have different reactions to seeing heros out in public.”

Your eyes were big, you felt your face erupt in an embarrassed fire, and your hands were fucking sweaty. Why couldn’t you have been born like, a blade of grass? A tree? Some non-sentient object that didn’t have to worry about thoughts or talking or how other people perceived it?

Red Riot continued, “But I’ve seen you a couple of other times; once on the subway, a few times at that park on the north side of town, haha, you really get around, dont’cha?”

Ah yes, now would be a good time for something to happen, like a plane to crash into the building and kill both of you instantly. Or some emergency that required his immediate attention, one that was so big and urgent that he would forget about you instantly.

His red eyes were drawn to your leg, which you were subconsciously wiggling like a toddler. His eyes softened, and his voice lowered an octave. “You always seem a bit… anxious. And I know that feeling, believe it or not. I used to be really insecure and nervous when I was younger-“

Oh, great. Now he was just calling attention to the fact that you were acting like a fucking child, that you were a fully-grown adult that couldn’t handle being out in the world because it was too nerve-wracking. Were you really that easy to read?

“-but I had some awesome people to help me through it. My moms were always really supportive, and they took such great care of me. It was rough for a little bit, but I learned how to be confident and how to strut my stuff and it’s helped me to help others. It’s sorta why I became a hero, actually.”

You smiled again, nodding. That made sense - each and every hero had a reason for why they wanted to help the general public, and of course Red Riot’s reason would be pure and inspiring.

“But uh, anyways! I just saw you shopping and thought I’d say hi to my Starbucks buddy. I was hoping you’d come and sit by me the other day, when I sat in the place you usually sit? But I understand that it’s sorta intimidating to approach a hero, even one in civilian clothing.”

Shoot, so he’d wanted you to sit by him that day? And here you were thinking that he had unintentionally commandeered your seat and was just trying to be left alone. God, you were so stupid.

“Oh, I’m-I’m sorry!” You stuttered out, face hotter than the actual sun. “I didn’t realize! I figured you always have people trying to get an autograph or a picture and you probably just want privacy, and I thought that maybe you just wanted to sit there and hadn’t gotten a chance to because I always sit there, which honestly that’s such a selfish thing for me to do - I should probably try to vary the places I sit so I don’t like-“

“Ah, don’t worry about it! You’re fine, okay? Trust me.” Red Riot patted your shoulder (yup, he could definite squeeze your head like a grape), before leaning down to grab his basket off the floor.

“Oh, well uhm, t-thank you, Mr. Red Riot” You resisted the urge to bow.

“Oh!” The man exclaimed, looking slightly surprised, “Call me Kirishima, none of that “Red Riot” stuff, alright?”

Confusion overtook you. “Uh, that’s only for your friends, civilians should respect the heros and call them by their chosen names.” At least, that’s what you had always been told.

But Red Riot just grinned. “Well, what’s your name?”

With a slight shake in your voice, you told him.

“I know your name now, so I officially deem the two of us as friends!” With his free hand, he patted you on the shoulder again. You shivered, and Red Ri-Kirishima seemed to notice.

“You alright (Y/N)? Didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”

“No, no… I’m just… kinda weird about touch I guess.” That was an understatement. You were so incredibly sensitive, every light touch felt searing, hugs always were too much sensation, you shuddered even thinking about cuddling - you were just too sensitive to touch.

Red-Kirishima stepped back, holding his hand up apologetically. “Oops, my bad. I kinda noticed that about you too, I should’ve remembered.”

At your questioning glance, the man hurried to continue. “Well, y’know, I saw that couple bump into you on the subway, and you looked like you were gonna cry. And then, like, at Starbucks you make an effort to not touch the barista’s hands when they give you your change.”

Great, so that was another thing you were obvious and weird about. Just great. You felt embarrassed that Kirishima had noticed that about you so easily, but you guessed being observant was part of his job.

“Well, I’m gonna go check out now, unless you need help with your groceries?” The man motioned to your barely-filled basket, and you shook your head.

“No, it’s-it’s okay. I can handle this, but thank you.”

Kirishima gave you a thumbs up. “Alright, sounds good. Although, are you planning on walking home?”

You shook your head yes, prepared to receive the “its not safe” talk. You knew it wasn’t safe, but it was just a few blocks, and you had made the walk to your apartment a million times, plus, you couldn’t afford to pay for an uber or a cab.

“It’s pretty dark out there, mind if I walk you home? I’m a hero and all, I promise I’m not going to try and steal your wallet.”

And there it was. For someone as nervous as yourself, walking alone in the dark really was no issue. Maybe it’s cause you weren’t afraid of someone trying to hurt you. You looked poor, you were ugly as fuck, and it was only a couple of blocks.

‘It’s okay Mr. R-Kirishima, I don’t mind. I’ll probably be here for a bit longer, don’t worry about me.”

He probably had other things to tend to, and even if he didn’t, you weren’t important enough to make a Pro-Hero go out of his way to walk you home. You were such an inconvenience already, it would just make you feel worse about yourself. And would you have to make small talk as the two of you walked?

Would he try and insist upon carrying your groceries? Would he want to walk up to your apartment floor with you? Or would he say goodbye in the lobby? Once again, best to just avoid the situation altogether.

Plus, you knew the hero was just trying to be polite. He probably didn’t actually want to walk you home.

Kirishima tried to offer again, but you turned him down, shaking your head, self-consciously drawing your shoulders up. You probably looked so stupid, like a scared little dog that had gotten yelled at. But it was a nervous reaction, and it felt better than just trying to stand there like a block.

Kirishima smiled gently, told you to have a safe night, and then left to go check out.

You turned back to the apples, trying to focus back on which color you should get, stuck between red, or green.

----

The next time you visited Starbucks, your regular spot was once again empty. It was almost a relief, seeing that you wouldn’t have to figure out if Kirishima wanted to talk today or not, if he wanted you to sit by him, or if he was just trying to make small talk back at the grocery store.

So you settled in, warm hot chocolate in hand as you looked out the window, watched cars whiz by on the street, rain puttering down softly.

And then Kirishima was bursting through the door, sending the door bell jingling in a frenzy, rain patterned heavily over his jean jacket, His eyes immediately found you, and his face lit up in a smile.

“(Y/N)!!!!”

You gave a little wave, watching as Kirishima smiled cheerily at you, before quickly ordering a drink. Immediately, the muscled redhead came to sit down in the armchair opposite you, panting a little bit.

“Wooo, I had to run here, started raining on me!”

“I can tell.” You let out a small laugh, noticing how his spiky hair was drooping from getting rained on.

“Glad to see you got home okay the other night.” The male blurted, leaning forward so he could strip off his jacket.

You paused. “What do you mean?”

He flashed you a grin, throwing his jacket over the back of the chair. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

Ah, he had a point.

His name was called, and Kirishima jumped up and went to pick up his drink before plopping back down in the armchair with a sigh.

“So, (Y/N), you ever been to the ocean before? All this water, the streets might be an ocean by the time we leave.”

Kirishima proceeded to launch into a story about the time he went to the ocean with his buddy Bakugou, how they had swam with turtles and even got to see a whale.

You were glad he was doing all the talking, letting you sit back and listen while you sipped at your hot cocoa. There was no pressure for you to talk, no pressure for you to try and fumble for the right words. And it was nice, seeing the big hero be so excited and animated, gesturing with his hands and almost spilling his drink all over himself.

As you listened to him talk, you settled back further into the armchair contentedly. He was a nice person to be around, you could see yourself being friends with him, if he didn’t mind.

——

And friends you did become.

It wasn’t long before the two of you exchanged numbers - Kirishima had wanted to send you a picture of a dog he had seen the other day while he was out patrolling.

The two of you texted memes to each other, cute pictures of animals, and even though your anxiety was loud and demanding and convinced you that you were bothering the man, Kirishima always assured you that was never the case.

He always seemed to be able to tell when you were feeling anxious, when nervousness settled deep in your bones and refused to leave. You slowly began to notice that with Kirishima, your anxiety was quieter. It was easy to let the exuberant man to take the lead, for him to make decisions, whether to walk up and ask to pet the cute dog or not. It was freeing in a way, letting your new friend take your anxiety and make it be quiet.

After all, no one gave you a second glance, now that you were trailing behind Pro-Hero Red Riot.

Kirishima was such a character, goofy, cheerful, and always sporting a sunny disposition. His casual fashion consisted of the most god-awful color combinations and mixed patterns. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to bounce towards you in greeting, wearing neon green crocs, dark blue overalls that were plaid, and a head-ache inducing black-and-white psychedelic shirt. Somehow he made it all work, and didn’t look odd or out of place.

You admired him, truly. You wished you could have his confidence, his attitude and bouncy personality. If you had confidence like that, you could probably do anything. As it stood right now, you could barely approach someone on the street and ask to pet their dog.

It had been so embarrassing, walking with Kirishima down the street and listening to him talk between gulps of a bright pink slushy. You spotted a woman walking a dog on the other side of the street, a big dog, fluffy and sweet-looking and happily walking along it’s owner, stopping to sniff at each plant that grew in the cracks of the sidewalk.

“Cute, I wish I could pet that dog.” You interrupted Kiri’s story, gazing wistfully at the dog.

Kirishima paused, swiveling his head to see what dog you were talking about. Once he did, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your hand. “Lets go pet it then!” But when he tried to pull you forward, you balked, pulling your wrist backward.

“I-I can’t, it’s….. I don’t know, It’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, studying you as he took another slow sip of his slushy. You had your own slushy, a significantly smaller size than the beefy Pro-Hero’s own giant cup.

“(Y/N), it’s okay - I’ll do all the talking, ‘kay?”

He could tell that the thought of talking to the owner, asking to pet their dog, was making you nervous. What if they said no? What if they thought you were being rude? Would the dog not like you? Would the owner think you looked funny? What if they were hurrying somewhere?

But if Kirishima did all the talking….. maybe you could manage trailing behind him, only emerging from his shadow if the owner said yes to petting their dog.

You gave the big man a weak smile, nodding gingerly before getting yanked forward, Kirishima already speed-walking towards the lady.

He asked, the lady said yes - you got to pet the absolute cutest dog ever. It was heaven.

You were grateful for Kirishima - shyly told him as much. If you were by yourself, you would have noticed the cute dog, but done nothing about it, just wished you had the courage to approach and ask if you could pet it.

But with Kiri? He made anything possible.

----

You were worried you were annoying him.

There was no evidence, but still, wouldn’t it be annoying to have an anxious little shadow? One that shook and stuttered and could barely go to the grocery store without freaking out and having a panic attack? Your fears and feelings weren’t entirely unfounded, I mean, there were millions upon millions of possible outcomes of any one action. Unfortunately, your brain liked to focus only on the negative options.

But Kirishima never got tired, never got frustrated with you. He didn’t mind ordering for the both of you when you got snacks at a fast-food place during long afternoons. He didn’t mind taking up extra space with his personality, being loud and brash and drawing attention to himself when you felt like everyone was watching you, waiting for you to make a stupid mistake.

Kiri seemed to like walking you home, helped you check your windows and in the closet and under the bed (not for people, but what if there was some eldritch monster that lurked just out of sight?). He never made fun of you for your feelings or fears, just gently listened and then tried to help you deal with them.

He even got you to be somewhat comfortable with making silly little mistakes in public. One time the man tripped on thin air, spilling warm coffee all over you and himself. Immediately he burst out laughing at his own clumsiness, apologizing between giggles as he heaved himself off the floor and went to go grab napkins.

If you had spilled a drink on him and yourself, you would’ve been asking Siri where the nearest cliff was. But you realized, the same way that you weren’t worried, and how it wasn’t that big of a problem that your shirt was now soaked with sweet coffee and sticking to your skin, Kirishima probably wouldn’t care if you spilled anything on him.

After all, it was an honest mistake.

The big man was helping you to learn how to be more comfortable in the world. But still, the creeping suspicion that he was just being kind to you out of sheer politeness was forefront in your mind.

So you came up with a question, practiced asking it in the mirror, took several days to build up your confidence to ask Kirishima.

“Do you actually want to be friends with me?”

And sure, that might be a forward question. But you valued honesty, had told him so a few times when he asked you to rate his outfit on a scale from 1-10 (usually it was a solid 10 - his personality making the outfit shine) you tried not to lie to others, and expected the same courtesy from them.

The two of you were in the park, resting on one of the benches after walking around and looking at the different plants (one of your favorite activities, no matter how lame). And now was as good a time as ever, so you popped the question, barely stuttering once.

Kirishima was silent for a bit, and you were almost afraid of looking up at him. The truth would come out now - how he just saw a pathetic little civilian and felt so much pity for them that he decided to be their friend. You were just a burden to him, how could you ever be anything else?

When you dared to look up at the big redhead, the intensity in his gaze had you leaning towards the side nervously, away from the strength of all his attention focused on you.

“(Y/N)…. becoming friends with you was - it’s been the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.” His voice held such sincerity, his face open and honest. You recoiled from the statement, uncomfortable with the compliment. That had to be a lie, he was just saying that to make you feel better. You were so pathetic and weak that other people had to pretend that you were better than you actually were to avoid hurting your feelings. You wished you never existed. Why did you even ask him that question in the first place? There was no way that someone as nice as Kirishima would actually tell you how worthless and pitiful you were.

Large hands grabbed your own, and you jumped. Kirishima’s hands were warm, scarred and calloused, yet soft in their grip as they gently squeezed your own hands. You tried not to flinch at the contact.

“I know that you don’t believe me, but you should. You know-“ One of his hands went to run through his hair, tousling through it’s straight, un-gelled style, before returning to your hand. “-I was pretty lonely before I met you. Like, I had my squad - Bakugou and Mina and Denki and Sero…. But it just….. There was something missing.”

Kirishima leaned close to you, your sides pressing together, his red eyes trying to catch your own. You were too shy, had to look off to the side.

“There was someone missing. And when I saw you, it felt…. Everything just clicked. I was missing you.”

You could feel his breath fanning against the side of your flaming hot face. It was uncomfortable. He was lying, he had to be. He was just trying to help you be confident in yourself, so he wouldn’t have to baby you and hold your hand and help you do simple things like ordering food or going for walks and not worrying about what people thought of you.

He was just being nice.

For some reason, you felt your throat clog up, felt the spicy sting of tears building up. Why did you feel like crying? You weren’t exactly in tune with any of your other emotions, only paid attention if it was anxiety or fear.

A thumb rubbed over your knuckles soothingly (it burned), and the next thing you knew you were being enveloped in a bear hug, Kirishima’s arms crushing you into his chest, his pecs pressing against your face.

Goddamn, he was built as fuck.

You tried to keep still, not squirm away from his touch like a child. You were an adult, you could handle a little bit of discomfort over being touched.

Kiri sighed. “I like being around you (Y/N). You don’t judge me for my mistakes, you accept them - you accept me. You uh, you make me happy dude, like, really happy.”

You chuckled a little bit at the redheads use of the word “dude”. Only a meathead could turn a sappy moment on it’s head by using the word “dude”. Still, you liked the way Kirishima talked, from the excited chatter when he was talking about something he liked, to the slow, comforting honey when he was being sincere and intimate, like now.

At the same time, your heart felt tight, waiting for the inevitable but that was sure to come. For the redhead to explain that he enjoyed your company but he was just being polite to a nervous civilian who couldn’t fend for themselves. You fun to hang out with but it was only because you made him look better, cooler and manlier because he was nice to someone as pathetic as you.

The but never came. You waited and waited, but Kirishima just kept the slow rhythm of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, kept your face pressed into his chest and an arm wrapped around your body. You didn’t know what to do.

Should you pull back? Your throat felt tight again. Kirishima was lying to you, he had to be. There wasn’t any way that someone would actually enjoy you as a person.

You pulled back from the warmth of his body, pulled your hand away from his. “I don’t….. I want honesty Kirishima. Please? Lies hurt more than the truth, please. I’m not a good person, I’m pathetic and nervous and shy, and I’m too loud sometimes, and my body looks weird, and I’m ugly and disgusting, and-“

“(Y/N), stop.” His voice thundered, cutting you off. Immediately, you fell silent, chest tightening, gaze falling to your lap. He was right. He didn’t need to hear all your insecurities, they were already clear to see. You were such a drag on his life, he probably hated having to deal with you, having to see you.

“Kiri, I’m not uhm-“ Your voice was wavering. “-I’m not feeling so great, I think I’m gonna head home.”

As you stood, so did the redhead. “Please don’t feel obligated to walk me home, I know it’s way out of your way.” He probably hated every second of it, probably insisted just to be polite. Even now, Kirishima was beginning to protest, grabbing at your hand. You pulled back, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Kiri, please.” You whispered, tears threatening to fall. You hated yourself. You hated yourself so much, your chest hurt, your ears felt full, everything felt too heavy and bad - there weren’t even any words to explain it. You just wanted to go home and cry, sob into a pillow.

Kirishima stayed put, probably watching you walk away from the park. God, you hoped he wasn’t, you walked so weirdly. Why couldn’t you just disappear?

——

You tried your best to disappear.

You did the bare minimum, turning in assignments an hour before they were due, half-assing them. You hardly ventured out of your room, only to grab water or to use the bathroom.

Neighbors kept knocking on your door, probably the couple in the apartment opposite you, asking for a cup of sugar so they could make cookies, or wanting to tell you that your mail downstairs was getting full. But being the person you were, you were far too nervous to go answer the door. You were probably annoying people. It would just be better for the world if you weren’t in it, wouldn’t it?

Kirishima kept trying to text you, call you (Even though he knew you couldn’t pick up - calls terrified you), trying to coax you to go on a walk with him, to come get coffee or a slushie with him when he finished working. You brushed him off with lame excuses, telling him you were sick, backtracking when he said he was coming over with soup and movies. You didn’t feel well enough for company.

Still, the man kept texting you several times a day, then only a few times, and now it was down to just once a day. In one corner of your mind, it hurt. The rest of your mind knew that it was for the best, knew that his life was going to be better because you weren’t going to be there bothering him.

His texts consisted of simple messages now, ones you felt bad not responding to, but if you did respond, you hated yourself for the rest of the day. You sucked.

“(Y/N), look at this dog!” *IMAGE ATTACHED*

Cute.

“Yo, you wanna come get something to drink at our place? They have a deal on coffee today!”

Sorry Kiri, I’m not feeling too good today. You should go get a drink though, have fun!

“I saw some people rollerskating in the park, we should try that!”

Yeah.

“Would you wanna go for a walk sometime?”

I don’t think so, I’m pretty busy right now. You should go and get sunshine though, you deserve it!

“We need to go to our Starbucks soon, I need COFFEE haha”

“Gonna ever come see where I work? I can show you my office, it’s super cool!”

“(Y/N), you doing okay?”

“I miss you.”

----

You woke up to the sound of your neighbors (or maybe the complex manager?) knocking on your door. Anxiety filled you, palms immediately becoming clammy, so you fumbled around your bed, searching for your earbuds. Maybe if you could listen to music, you could calm down? Sometimes that worked, sometimes not. It really depended on how worked up you were.

Luckily you found them, quickly stuffing them in your ears as you queued music up on your phone. The knocking faded out as music filled your ears, but your anxiety still persisted. You curled up onto your side, hugging a pillow to your chest, almost on the verge of tears from nothing more than a few knocks at your door. You were such a burden to society.

It took a minute, but your heart stopped racing, palms stopped sweating, and you fell back asleep. You were so tired of being awake.

----

You awoke a second time to hands carding gently through your hair. It felt weird for a brief second, but you just ignored the feeling - until you remembered that you lived alone, and the front door was supposed to be locked.

Squeaking in panic, you shot up, eyes wide, scrambling back into the corner of your bed, clutching the blanket to your chest.

Kirishima blinked at you, hand still hovering over where your he’d had previously been. He was sitting on the edge of your bed, shoes off, bare feet on the floor.

Your eyes were still wide with fear, chest heaving with panic, but you managed to rip out your earbuds. “Kirishima? How-how did you get in?!? What are you….” You trailed off, tugging your blanket closer around your body as you realized that you were in your pajamas. They weren’t provocative, nor exposed any skin, but they drowned your form, were probably stained and most likely dirty, and you definitely looked awful. But back to the issue at hand, how did Kiri get in your apartment?

The man in question gave a dorky little wave, lips quirking up ever so slightly.

“(Y/N), hey! I haven’t seen you in so long!” He paused for a second, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. “I missed you… I was kinda worried.”

“But how are you- I mean…. inside?” You stuttered, completely flustered.

“Oh, I talked to the complex manager, said I was a family member who was really worried about you. Showed him how you haven’t been answering my texts…. I was really worried (Y/N). You were giving such weird replies to my texts, and then you stopped answering completely, and no one answered the door whenever I knocked.”

Wait, that was him knocking? All those times?

You were going to jump out the window.

“Kiri… I didn’t mean to worry you, I just… You shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“Why not? I care about you, I… I wanted to see you.”

It was time to be honest, say the things that were painful to say. The truths that hurt your heart, but needed to be said. Otherwise, Kirishima just wouldn’t get it.

“Kiri, I’m not-I’m not worth your worry. I don’t deserve it. I’m a nervous, depressed wreck, who can’t even open a door or answer the phone. You’re-you’re being nice to me cause you’re a good person. I don’t think I should be… well, like, around you. I just-I bring you down, and you have to do stuff for me and reassure me and I’m such a burden. Please just, I don’t know, please just don’t give me any more attention. I’m so stupid and gross and you should be friends with someone who isn’t….. isn’t like me.”

You finished your rant, almost breathless, choked up, feeling ready to cry.

Silence reigned between the two of you, everything quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the rhythmic clicking of your fan.

It was uncomfortable. But you’d said your piece. It’d be weird if you said anything else, right? Should you say something else? Was he going to hate you for wasting his time? Holy crap, Kirishima is gonna hate you for wasting his time, for not telling him that at the beginning, when he first got to know you.

“(Y/N)-“ The sound of Kirishima’s soft, low voice made your head snap up, up to his face. He was looking at you, red eyes dark and large and filled with… pity? Sadness? “-I don’t even know how to tell you how wrong you are about that.”

The blanket shrouding your body was quickly pulled away, Kirishima discarding it to the side so he could shuffle closer to you, wrap you in one of his signature death-grip hugs. You were quickly pulled into his arms, the large man hunched over you as he squeezed you tight. It didn’t feel good. You wished he would remember that you didn’t like to be touched.

“I was pretty sure of my feelings before… well, before you asked if I wanted to be friends with you. And truthfully, I wasn’t exactly honest with you.” Your heart gave the tiniest squeeze. You knew he had been lying to you, but yeah, it did kinda hurt to hear him admit it.

“I kinda wanna be more than friends with you, actually.”

His hold on your body loosened, pulling back so he could look at your face. Your ugly, about-to-cry, gross face. You tried to turn away, pull out of his grip and find your blanket and crawl underneath it and stay there until you died. There was no way he was coming onto you - you weren’t good enough for him. He was Kirishima, Red Riot, pro hero, sunshine of the world, manliest and strongest guy out there.

And you were just….

You.

Kirishima didn’t let you move away. He grabbed your arms, pulled you up a bit so you were at his level. “I’m serious about this. I know you don’t believe me, all that anxiety and nervousness trying to lie to you, but….” A quick glance at his face showed the redhead to be blushing. “I’ve wanted to be more than friends from the moment I first saw you.”

Exasperated, almost angry at this point (he was lying), you scoffed, wiggling in his grip to signal that you wanted to let go.

“Kiri, I held a door open for you, it was nothing special. I’m ugly and lame and I panic over the slightest things, stop lying to me and saying that I’m someone worth your time.” Surprised, Kirishima loosened his grasp on your arms, and you moved away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. “I could never be worth your time.”

Was silence becoming a trend between the two of you? Apparently, because Kirishima didn’t say anything, just crawled over and sat down next to you. The big man was hardly ever silent, always talking about this, that, or the other. You were just a pro at messing things up, weren’t you?

A moment longer of sitting awkwardly in silence. You couldn’t take it anymore, you wanted to be able to cry about your shameful existence in peace, without having to entertain Kiri’s pity and lies.

“Can you….. Can you-you go…. Please?” You whispered, hugging your arms around your body. Oh yeah, you had forgotten you were in your gross, oversized pajamas. Just another thing for you to feel bad about.

Kirishima didn’t move.

Afraid he hadn’t heard you, you turned bright red, what an idiot - you can’t even speak loud enough to be heard. You stuttered as you started to repeat your request, but Kirishima cut you off.

“Why can’t you see?” He turned to you. “You’re the most lovely thing, I want to be around you all the time. Why can’t you see that you’re the most wonderful person in the world?”

Horrified, you reeled back. He was just pushing more lies. You felt so uncomfortable, you hated this, you wanted him to stop. “That’s-that’s just some fantasy Kiri…. I’m awful. Please, just go-“

“No.”

No? His voice sounded different, harsh and filled with authority. You looked at your feet, settled against the bare floor. You just wanted to sleep, and sleep, and never have to wake up. Why did being a human have to be so hard?

Might as well let the big redhead say his piece, make you feel worse about yourself. Then you could shove him out the door and spend the next week sobbing yourself sick.You felt bad, you couldn’t even explain your own emotions, put a name to this feeling that was painful and clawed at your chest like it was trying to rip you apart.

“You aren’t understanding me (Y/N). That’s no fantasy of mine - that’s reality.” A large hand grabbed your chin softly, turning your face towards Kiri’s. “Whenever I come up with a fantasy that involves you, I end up fucking my fist ’til I go raw.”

The admission made you stutter, and you hadn’t thought it was possible for you to blush harder, but here you were - twelve shades redder than the reddest tomato.

Kiri didn’t give you a chance to breathe. “I missed you so much, you don’t even realize. I could compliment you until I go blue in the face, but you’re so shy and nervous and adorable, you’d never, ever believe me.”

Well, that much was true. At least he knew you well.

“So instead, I’m just gonna show you how much you mean to me.”

Soft lips met your own, a hand fisting into your hair and twisting your head back to make kissing you easier for Kiri. You couldn’t even think, barely had presence of mind to push at the solid man, hitting his chest. You felt ugly, and gross, and stupid and weak, was this some sort of prank? This had to be some sort of prank. There’s no way Kirishima could actually be attracted to you.

Your mind was drawn to the present when a sharp blossom of pain emanated from your lip. Kiri pulled back, a single drop of blood running down his chin as he stared at you, your foreheads almost touching.

“Don’t get in your head, I want you here. Don’t think, just feel.”

You wanted to say something, to open your mouth and ask him again to leave. He shouldn’t be kissing you, he should be kissing someone prettier, stronger, someone who had their life together.

You wanted to protest, but you were being pushed onto your back on the bed, Kiri’s large, calloused hands grabbing at your limbs and bodily moving you however he saw fit despite your squirming.

“Kir-stop-stop touching! Don’t, please, I’m-I’m so gross-“

His lips were on yours again, swallowing your cries as he moved the two of you around on the small bed until you were splayed out underneath him. He was moving so quickly, with such confidence and self-assuredness that you couldn’t keep up. His hands were starting to squeeze at your waist, his thighs bracketing your own as the big man got comfortable over you, leaning down to avoid breaking the deep, passionate kiss.

Your lungs were burning.

You had to pull your face to the side, pushing at Kiri’s shoulders as you did so, making panicked noises as you tried (and failed) to take in air through your nose. How the hell was Kiri holding his breath this long?

The man finally got the hint, letting you pull away from him, gasping for air. You felt dizzy, his hands were still squeezing and stroking over your waist, it was too much. As you tried to get your breathing under control, you glanced up at your friend, red-faced, on the verge of tears. Why was he doing this? You were so gross, ugly, nothing when compared to how fit and muscular and handsome Kirishima was.

HIs eyes were dark, chin smeared red from the blood earlier - you bet your chin looked the same. His chest rose and fell rapidly, seemingly also out of breath, but the moment your eyes met his, the man was descending again, this time to press hot kisses all over your face, on your jaw, behind your ears.

“Don’t, oh, please don’t. Kiri-why are you-? Stop-“ You gasped, the sensations of his lips trailing across your skin too much for you to handle. A kiss to the column of your throat had you jolting, trying to sit up, not knowing what you were doing but trying to get away. It was too much.

“Lay back.” Kiri’s deep voice rumbled. “Let me make you feel good. You’ll forget about the anxiety, okay? Just focus on me.”

You didn’t want to focus on him. But at the same time, the situation was so overwhelming, you didn’t know what to do except let him push you back down with a hand on your chest.

Before you could process what happened, your clothes were off, his clothes gone as well. You wanted to shriek; cry and cover yourself and tell Kirishima to leave, but everything was happening too fast, and your body couldn’t keep up.

You felt floaty, buzzy, like you were in a weird dream, ears stopped up full of cotton.

Wet fingers prodded at your entrance. Oh, were they Kiri’s? When had they gotten wet? The fingers retracted, and you watched Kirishima gather the saliva in his mouth before spitting onto his hand.

Ah.

The fingers were back, one pushing into you, the pressure too deep, too tight, too harsh. You knew in the back of your mind that you probably looked so stupid, gasping and shivering and shaking, but you couldn’t control it.

One finger turned into two, then three, then four, and then they were gone, something much bigger trying to split you open.

You felt sick.

You couldn’t move.

Kirishima was kissing your face again, his touch burning, making your skin feel tingly and painful and rough everywhere he touched. It hurt. He was saying something, but your ears were buzzing, everything felt fuzzy and weird, and you didn’t know where to look, what to do, except lie there and let the man continue.

He was soft, gentle. But no amount of easy touches or reassuring words were getting through to you, just the overwhelming sensation of being too full, nausea thick in your stomach, throat closing up. The room tasted like blood.

The pressure wasn’t going away, just building and building and building as Kirishima thrust into you, until eventually a twinge of pleasure slipped into your system alongside the discomfort of being filled.

It felt weird… nice? You couldn’t tell anymore.

There was only sweat, slick, slapping noises, rough hands running over your skin, words being said. You couldn’t grasp anything.

You felt full, empty, all at the same time.

The pleasure built, higher and higher and higher until it burst into little sharp fragments that ran through your veins, zinging into your wrists, sparking through your tummy.

And then there was warmth inside you, and the part of you still lucid recognized that Kirishima had just cum inside your body.

You couldn’t get enough air into your lungs.

----

Kirishima was laying beside you, making shushing sounds, stroking your hair, pulling the blanket up around the two of you. The pressure between your legs was gone, as was the stinging pleasure that had spilled all over your body. You couldn’t feel, everything was still too much, too loud and bright and rough and warm.

Kirishima was still stroking your hair as you finally calmed down, hyperventilating coming to a stop, shaking still there, but not as violent as it had been.

“-so strong, and your laugh always makes me happy. I love you, and I know you love me back. It’s gonna take some time for us to work past all this nervous stuff, but I’m not give up. I’ll always be here for you, you know that?”

He was rambling, occasionally pressing soft kisses to your neck, along your collarbone - innocent, reassuring. You closed your eyes.

“You need someone to be there for you, I know. You get so anxious, and you bottle up your feelings, and I know you get so scared of saying or doing the wrong thing and you just freeze or panic.” He continued. “You won’t ever have to worry about that with me. We worked around it today, yeah? You just relax, and let me lead. I’m never gonna steer you wrong (Y/N).”

You felt cold.

#yandere #yandere kirishima eijirou #yandere boku no hero academia #kirishima #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #anxiety #tw noncon #tw dubcon #panic attack

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cuuno-moved · 3 years

Text

hermitbur chapter 2, i guess.

part one

tws: panic attacks, implied sh

Wilbur woke up to clean sheets, and a slight breeze coming through the window. The air smelled a bit like vanilla, and even without opening his eyes, he could see the early morning sunlight settling on his face.

He sighed, breathing in deeply, and felt his muscles relax. This was nice…

He hadn’t felt this relaxed in years, he realised, not since-

His eyes flew open, and his body jolted upright, sending pain throughout his ribcage, and he gasped, leaning to the side, curling in on himself.

He wore a new, clean sweater- a blue-grey one that hung a bit loose on his wiry frame- but they had left his tattered jeans alone. It felt like there were bandages wound around his chest, and up his arms, and his hair felt clean.

He scowled, shoving himself up into a sitting position. The room was large, and bright, with large windows set in the clean white walls. A large painting hung over a coffee table at the other side of the room. The floor was covered in a soft looking brown carpet, and the bed was twin sized, with a tall, elegant headboard. He noticed railings set up along the wall, as well as a wheelchair in the corner.

A hospital? No, it didn’t have that sterile, empty feeling. So what? A prison?

Suddenly, two people walked in, chatting quietly.

One was a woman, tall and thin, with long blond hair that was slung over her shoulder, held back with a pair of goggles. Her arms were crossed, her lips thin, but something about her was warm, inviting.

The other was a man, a painfully familiar one at that. He was tall too, but not as tall as the woman, or Wilbur. His nose was buried under a pile of bandages and plasters, but up this close, Wilbur could see the thin scars tracing his jaw, marring his lips, curving along his cheekbone. His sandy brown hair was just a little too long, brushing his collar, and his leg braces creaked as he shifted on his feet.

For a moment, Wilbur wondered if throwing himself out a window would be a wise idea until he saw the axe strapped to the woman’s back.

They both looked up at the same time, eyes landing on Wilbur, and glanced at each other, before the woman frowned, uncrossing her arms and stepping forward, slowly.

“Hallo…”

“Hey.” He rasped, wincing at the sound of his own voice.

The woman glanced at the man, who shrugged helplessly, before running a hand down her face. “Okay… okay, what’s your name, let’s start with that.”

“...Will. Will Watson.”

Her bright blue eyes darted over him, watching for any sign of deceit, before she nodded. “I'm False. This is my friend, Scar.”

Wilbur nodded jerkily to them, eyes catching on Scar’s face for a moment too long before glancing away. “Sorry about… y’know…”

Scar chuckled, uneasily. “Oh, it’s alright, I startled you.”

“Still shouldn't have punched you."

The room was silent and tense for a moment, before False sighed. "Are you feeling alright, Will?"

He hesitated, thinking. His ribs were sore, and his chest ached, and his back burned, and his wrists were itchy, but it didn't hurt as much as it did before, in Pogtopia, when his whole body felt like it was being crushed under the weight of the world, so he nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright."

She frowned at that, brows drawing together in disbelief. "You had a cut in your chest. Not too bad, but… it was bleeding."

Somewhere in Wilbur's mind, he smelled smoke and heard the scrape of a sword against leather and felt the blade sprout from his chest, but he didn't say anything, just shrugged.

Her scowl deepened and he braced himself to run, but she looked more concerned than anything, her lips pressing in an expression so reminiscent of Phil's, just before…

Scar shifted uncomfortably, dull green eyes darting between them. He was no fighter, Wilbur recognized that. They had similar builds, long legs and a long torso, like stretched taffy. He looked a bit sickly too, like a good wind would put him down for a week, his eyes rimmed in red, his fingers almost blue. This was no fighter, this was a talker.

Wilbur could take him, if he needed. If it came down to that, he could probably use him as a shield, at least.

His staring hadn't gone unnoticed. False had shifted between the men, staring Wilbur down with narrowed eyes.

The silence was almost unbearable, and Wilbur almost spoke, before a sudden thud echoed through the room, coming from the roof. Wilbur tensed, eyeing the other two for any reaction, but False's face was set in a stern glare and Scar looked… relieved?

Reinforcements. They had been waiting for reinforcements, and now they were here, and he was going to die.

Ignoring the way his legs felt like damp noodles, he shoved himself off the bed, collapsing almost immediately.

Scar yelped, stepping towards him, but he pushed himself up from the floor, leaning against the wall. He knew this game, he was a politician after all. Kill them with kindness, smother them with sweetness, fuck em up with friendship and when their guards are down, put an axe through their fucking skull.

He had pressed himself in a corner gazing at the two strangers, his mind running a million miles a minute. If he moved quickly, he could grab Scar, shove him to the ground, run past them.

Footsteps echoed through the building, heavy but quick, and he went to move, just as the door was flung open, and he froze.

A man stood in the doorway, sharp eyes staring him down. His hair was white, but he looked in his thirties at oldest, although the gas mask that covered his face made it hard to tell. A wicked scar ran over his right eye, rendering it blind, a dull grey color in comparison to the other, which was a bright chocolate brown. He wore what appeared to be a bulletproof vest, lined with fur and pockets. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene, before he moved forward, muttering something to False, who nodded stiffly and stepped back.

The new man moved closer to Wilbur, slowly, gently, reaching forward.

He flinched back, his shoulders slamming into the wall, and he suddenly realised his wings were exposed, the thin iridescent material pressed against the concrete wall.

The man crouched in front of him slowly raising his hands like he was talking to a scared animal.

Wilbur didn't move, didn't speak, just stared, his whole body tense to the point of pain. He knew what was going on. The man was going to kill him. He was obviously well built, even if he wasn't obviously armed, he had to have a knife hidden on him, somewhere.

"Can you tell me your name?" The man asked quietly.

Wilbur didn't speak.

”He says his name's Will Watson." False said, flicking a lock of golden hair from her eyes.

The man didn't look at her, eyes fixed on the still-panicking elytrian. "Is that your name? Will?"

Wilbur nodded, jerkily, before freezing. If they found out he was lying…

"No," He gasped. "No, that's not… that's not my real name."

The man blinked. "Okay… okay, that's alright, you don't have tell us your real name if you don't want to-"

"'S Wilbur. Soot. I'm General Wilbur Soot."

As soon as he said it, his chest panged, and he curled in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. General… that's not a rank he'd held in years, but it was sweet on his lips, like something he'd almost forgotten, and he hated that more than anything.

"Okay, Wilbur? You're having a panic attack. Can I touch you?"

Wilbur's mouth opened but all that came out was a low whine, like a kicked dog. He settled on nodding, and then two arms wrapped around him, gently.

He tensed up almost immediately, expecting the familiar feeling of steel, but there was nothing.

The man wasn't Phil.

Phil smelled of vanilla and wood smoke and damp stone in the summer, this man smelled almost acrid, like redstone and soldering and sweat.

Phil wore soft, silky clothes that felt like home and gentle hugs. This man wore rough clothes, built for action.

Phil hugged tight, in a way that felt safe, like the world couldn't get him, as long as he stayed in his father's arms. This man was gentle, careful, one hand cupping the back of Wilbur's head, one settled between his wings.

This wasn't Phil.

Later on, he'd wince in embarrassment when he thought of this moment, sobbing in the arms of a complete stranger because said complete stranger didn't remind him of his father, but in the moment, he was too tired to be embarrassed.

When he looked up, Scar and False were gone, the room empty other than him and the man.

"Shit, sorry," He muttered, rubbing at his face. "That was dumb."

"It's alright," The man said gently. "You're alright."

Wilbur snorted, shaking his head. "Don't even your name."

The man jolted, laughing in surprise. "Oh, you're right! I'm Etho."

"Why does everyone have such dumb names?" Wilbur muttered.

Etho's eyes crinkled in a smile. "Oh, you haven't met Beef yet…"

Wilbur frowned. "Yet? You're not going to make me leave?"

"Leave?" Etho scowled. "Why would we make you leave?"

"I showed up out of nowhere, broke your friend's nose and passed out on your beach," Wilbur chuckled humorlessly. "Why would you let me stay?"

"Do you have anywhere else to sleep tonight?"

"No."

"Then you'll stay tonight," Etho smiled. "Or longer, if you need to. You're injured, and obviously lost, plus… plus you're obviously not in the best place mentally…"

Wilbur scowled, his fingers pressing against the bandages wound around his wrists. "I'm fine."

Etho raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Alright. Stay for Scar at least. He's been worried sick about you."

"I broke his nose…"

"Yeah, that happens," Etho nodded. "Please, stay."

Wilbur eyed him, frowning a bit.

No one had ever asked him to stay anywhere. He'd always shown up, carved a home for himself, fought tooth and nail, and then got kicked out. To have someone ask him to stick around…

"Fine. I'll stay. Just for tonight."

Etho smiled, and Wilbur couldn't help but feel that for once in his life, he'd made the right choice.

#toby writes shit #wilbur soot #goodtimeswithscar #falsesymmetry #ethoslab #hermitbur #hermitcraft #dream smp #idk man #this one was kinda dark

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spicysoftsweet · 4 years

Note

Can you write a very jealous/aggressive Chrollo NSFW?

I hope you’re interested in semi-public antics! Also I realize I don’t write Chrollo very often, so this was a welcome challenge~

You braced yourself against rapid deceleration as Chrollo slammed the car brakes, almost rear-ending the car that had pulled to a stop several feet ahead of the two of you.

You finally let out the breath you had been holding; much too loud, as Chrollo was now glaring at you, his hands on the wheel gripping so tightly that you were worried the metal would bend. You tried to ignore his burning stare, focusing on the traffic light on red, waiting desperately for it to turn green so that he’d have to focus on the road again.

Chrollo very rarely got angry - in fact, he was known for his unflappability, and his ability to seemingly control every situation, in such a way that those around him didn’t know they were being directed.

But tonight was different, and in Chrollo’s opinion, it was mostly your fault. Chrollo was losing his composure enough that you had almost ended up in an accident, and the tension inside the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. You had not said a word in the past twenty minutes, focusing on the winding road instead, so that you could avoid saying anything to him. With Chrollo, any word you said could be twisted and manipulated to suit his purposes, and he was absolutely bent on accusing you of being unfaithful.

Per his account, you had actively been flirting with the magician, Hisoka, but you vehemently asserted that you had done no such thing. It was just that Hisoka had a way of smiling that made your heart flutter involuntarily, a small warmth settling in the apples of your cheeks. It also didn’t help that Hisoka had decided to introduce himself like a perfect gentleman, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips to the back of it. You could tell he had done it particularly to irk your partner Chrollo, to provoke him into a fight. You had heard from Chrollo that he desperately wanted to fight him after all.

The greeting had been the first strike; your bashful reaction to it had been the second. The third strike was the fact that you had told him to relax when he’d ushered you into the car after troupe business had been officially adjourned, teasing him about his obvious jealousy.

Jealousy was such an unrefined, pedestrian emotion. Chrollo thought highly of himself - to call him jealous, even jokingly, was to wound his ego twice.

And that was why he had been driving like a maniac until this very moment.

The light was staying red for far too long, you noticed. You fidgeted slightly in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your ankles. Chrollo was still watching you, and you could feel his irritation with you intensifying every second.

Then before the light could turn green, right in the middle of the road, he put the car in park and set down the parking brake.

“Chrollo, what are you do-”

“Take off your pants.” He interrupted in a low voice.

“What?” You looked at him with confusion, but immediately, he unbuckled his seat belt and pulled you into a rough, needy kiss. Shocked for a moment, you fell into his groove nevertheless, allowing him to kiss you hungrily, pressing your body tighter against him. One hand entangled in your hair, and he used the other to unbuckle your own seatbelt.

“Take off your pants,” he repeated his command against your lips and his grip on the back of your head even tighter, and you obliged, unfastening the button of your jeans and rolling your jeans down as best you can. You shivered slightly in the cold as the upper part of your legs became exposed, only to be warmed again as he thumbed the small knob downstairs through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Chrollo…,” you moaned, as he started to rub small circles, and then hooked his finger under the underwear to touch your sensitive skin with no inhibition. You whimpered even louder at the direct sensation, and he lowered the back of your seat so that you were laying flat for better access. Leaning over, one of his hands crept up your shirt as the other one was working your clit, caressing your breast, then he leaned over the console to ease one of your mounds into his mouth.

Sucking softly, and stimulating both erogenous zones, you felt as though you were on cloud nine, enough that you forgot for a moment that you were in the middle of the road still, in the middle of the night on a poorly lit road.

“C-Chrollo, i-is this okay…” you were struggling to use your words over the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. “There might be… ah… people coming.”

His mouth left your breast with a small pop to tell you not to worry, and you found yourself yearning again for its warmth immediately.

“They can drive around the car if it’s so important. It’s equally as important for you to understand that you’re not going to get this level of pleasure elsewhere,” Chrollo insisted, accentuating that with a bite back down on your breast that made you cry out.

You found yourself drawing your legs up as he continued to work breast and clit, clit and breast, the muscles of your belly tightening and contracting as you tried to control your squirms, with him holding you down to keep you laying flat.

“It’s too much…,” you whined, overwhelmed with sensation.

“I’ll show you too much,” he said, pulling back with an amused laugh, now forcing three fingers at once in your slick entrance, drawing a gasp out of you, and moving so quickly, you felt that you could not catch your breath.

You cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure only to be muffled by his own lips on yours, kissing and nipping at your lips. Once he could tell you were close by the intensity of your moans, he withdrew his fingers right as you toed the edge.

“Not yet. I’m going to fuck you senseless so you remember who you belong to,” he murmured, as he freed himself of his own clothing. He pulled his own seat back and motioned for you to make your way on your new throne, his throbbing member, and you shakily acquiesced. As you lowered yourself onto him, you grit your teeth at the initially painful but later pleasant stretch, and he began to move. To your dismay, he then started to ram you hard enough into the steering wheel that the horn began to honk, as if reporting your dirty deed.

“Chrollo-”

His grip around your hips tightened as if to warn you to stop talking, and he continued to thrust into you forcefully, using your moans and cries of pleasure to encourage him.

“No one else will do this for you like me, do you understand? No one,” he continued to growl, his hands moving from your hips to warp around your waist. His head made its way into the crook of your neck and he continued to rut into you while placing obvious hickeys on your neck, marking you as his.

You continued to moan his name over and over again like it was a mantra until your speech became unintelligible and then the two of you were speaking your own language of pleasure and possession.

And then you climaxed, and he climaxed, and you fell into him, a sweaty, bruised mess.

He rolled you back into your seat quickly and refastened his pants before starting the car, as you tried to resettle into your seat, still trying to come down from your high.

“We’re fucking again the moment we get home. I’m going to make sure I leave my imprint all over your body,” he declared, now stepping on the gas, the roar of the engine only slightly masking the thump of your racing heart.

#chrollo x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #hunter x hunter #jealousy

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wickedpact · 4 years

Text

[waggles finger angrily in direction of computer screen] KEANE!

ok so i Started saying this in that other post but the Thing About keane is that he doesnt come off as being That Bad through the most of the movie. obviously hes not a good person; the fact that he works for merrick and that hes ex special forces alone is sus as fuck (like buddy, why arent you still in special forces?)

but in comparison to dr kozak (sadist) and merrick (also a sadist) keane doesnt seem that bad. he spends most of the movie standing around in douchebag suits and being intimidating. there are only like five scenes where we see him touch other people, ‘cause all he really does is order his goons around, and Usually when we Do see him touch people, he’s more or less Your Usual Brand of Asshole about it

long post under cut :/

like. 1.) grabbing joe after he headbutts merrick

2.) knocking out andy and booker with the sedative

3.) knocking out copley

4.) the joenicky fight scene

5.) the joe fight scene afterwards but that doesnt really count bc he never got a punch in (lol)

and in all of those, excluding the the joenicky fight scene (and the joe fight scene which i just said doesnt count) keane’s.... eh? hes not nice but he could be way meaner.

The Joe Grab: obviously not Good Boy behavior, obviously aggressive, but he doesnt hurt joe here. hes not even cutting off joe’s air, he’s just grabbing him.

i mean. in reaction to the headbutt, keane threatens joe without harming him, the goon behind joe pistol whips him, and merrick stabs him. of the three reactions we get, keane’s is the most mild. look, his finger isnt even on the trigger

andy & book; again not good boy behavior, but again he could have been way worse. when he sedates andy she struggles like fuck, and you can even see keane kind of stumble as he tries to hold her down. even so, he doesnt hit her to get her to stop, a thing his goons do fairly regularly to the others, and even when he grips her neck to hold her still, he’s holding her jaw more than her neck (look at his thumb). in the aftermath, she doesnt even have any marks. (this coming from the movie that gave merrick a red spot on his forehead for like a whole minute after joe headbutted him. lmao suck it merrick)

and when he goes for book, more of the same. he just kind of... holds him in place, despite his struggling. its professional . hes just a dude doing his job. Keane The Professional.

when he knocks out copley right after thats the only other time we see him personally harm someone, and even then that was with a specific order from merrick (you see him give keane A Look) and theres nothing sadistic there either. he hit copley, copley was out(TM), the end.

None Of This Gives Any Indication Of Keane Enjoying Causing Pain

AMND THEN: THE JOENICKY FIGHT

and Many People have discussed this fight so i wont go off too hard but. this fight. it lasts roughly thirty seconds. Thirty. and of those thirty seconds, keane spends about... eh, seventeen focused on nicky? (the kicking, the gun, etc) on joe? he spends about three. as in seconds. the other ten seconds is mostly keane getting beat on or standing ominously above the two of them.

and of the few analyses ive seen, people point out keane being homophobic as his motivation here (and he definitely is) but homophobia alone doesnt explain why keane WENT OFF on nicky specifically.

because like! the beginning of this fight! keane sends all of his goons after nile booker and andy! SIX men to fight THREE immortals, leaving KEANE ALONE to fight the other two! and then he walks into the room joe and nicky are in, sees them both lying there,

ADN HE PUTS AWAY HIS GUN

like! he already won the fight right then and there! nicky and joe were on the floor! a bullet to the head to both of them to keep them down and keane would have had them both, but no, keane puts his gun away, grabs his zipties,

AMDN then he goes straight for fucnening nicky

it would make Sense if hed gone for joe. he and joe have established beef. the headbutt. the speech in the van (which im sure keane heard at some point since those guards had bodycams and im sure keane wanted to know how he and nicky managed to kill his men and looked at the footage) --and theres the killing of the men itself, but both joe and nicky did that together. so.

either way, joe has been challenging the authority of keane and his men since he had the breath to do so. nicky’s barely glanced in keane’s direction (beyond the killing the men thing, which weve established both he and joe did)

other than that, worst thing nicky’s done to keane is nearly bump into him while he was busy making Disappointed Eye Contact with copley

but anyways: keane doesnt go for joe! he walks past joe’s body and goes for nicky, who’s just barely begun to move. it would also make sense, at this point, to put a bullet in nicky’s head here. like i said, keane’s already won. Keane The Professional wouldve already killed him.

instead, keane kicks nicky in the head, stands there and watches nicky get up, then kicks him a second time, and watches him again. he goes to do it a third time before nicky gets the drop on him.

at no point prior to this in the movie do we see keane behave like this. he doesnt cause pain for the sake of causing it. he doesnt hurt people pointlessly. here, he does. theres no reason to be kicking nicky like this. its not accomplishing anything, it’s not helping him capture them. hes just doing it ‘cause he wants to. (not to mention, each time you see him go to kick nicky, he goes to kick harder)

and actually, doing this is actively stupid! joe is waking up a foot away. there are three other immortals on the loose. merrick is unaccounted for. and keane is just wasting time. by dicking around rn, he’s actively shooting himself in the foot.

but anyways, nicky punches keane, keane kicks him off, and then joe’s awake, and This is the detail i just noticed a little earlier-- but when keane gets up here and joe grabs him: his head is turned towards nicky. his eyes are turned towards nicky. he’s moving towards nicky, not joe, who is the active threat in the moment

he doesnt even acknowledge joe until joe’s hand is physically on his head. joe had to physically Hold the dude back from going after nicky again

and then we see keane’s behavior change again when he sets his sights on joe. Keane The Professional is back again- two rapid-fire punches aimed at joe, no nonsense, no drawing it out, and then he goes for his gun

he doesnt draw it out. he doesnt sit and watch joe suffer. that gif is in real time, thats how fast keane took joe out. two punches, shoulder, neck, and then an immediate escalation to lethal force.

like the difference between: keane putting his gun away and then keeping it away for fifteenish seconds while focusing on nicky

when focusing on joe, it takes him.. about two seconds & some change to pull the gun out again

keane wanted joe dead, but he wanted nicky to fucking suffer

and the you know, theres the obvious gun in mouth thing, which other people have talked about. the only thing i have to say about That is that its another fucking example of keane shooting himself in the foot. hes in a room filled with gas w/ no gas mask, and theres a very pissed off joe like two feet away from him recovering by the second. however, he doesnt do the Keane The Professional thing and put a bullet in nicky’s forehead-- he deliberately leans down, grabs nicky’s hair (and its not like he needed to, nicky sure as hell wasnt going anywhere anyway, unable to breathe and probably still sitting on a concussion after being kicked in the head) and jams the gun in nickys mouth. he’s wasting time doing that. it would have been faster and easier to just shoot nicky in the head. (like he probably was about to do to joe, considering how he doesnt step any closer to joe as he pulls out the gun)

and then he just??? bounces??

he is, again, in a position where he’d practically won. he had nicky dead. joe was on the ground. he could have gone for his mask, or shot joe and then fucked off to get a breath of Good Air. gun is still in his hand. he doesnt even try to take out joe, not even just shooting over his shoulder as he left. he doesnt give a shit about joe once nicky’s dead.

nicky was dead, so keane just left. and he double takes at the body as he goes??

like at first i thought he was confused nicky wasnt getting up, but he knows how the immortals work, he saw joe and nicky die on the body cams at the church. like sir why are fucking looking? fuck off?

but yeah theres just no explanation for this! nicky has done practically nothing to keane, but keane just zeroed tf in on nicky with no provocation! it couldnt have been just homophobia, if it were he would have targeted joe the same way he did nicky. he had to have some other motivation for acting completely differently @ nicky than he does to any other character in the film, and then just. going back to normal once nicky was dead. its weird. its creepy. and theres like 0 explanation. dont like it

#i said i was gonna make this post and then i sat down and made ramen instead which really sums up me as a person #its fucikgn. keane meta hours i guess #dont know what to tag this as other than #Keane Warning #my_essays

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trashytummiez · 3 years

Text

Beef and Belly Rubs

I came up with this idea after seeing some old Haikyū!! drawings @dumdumdrawstumtums did of Bokuto and Akaashi. I love his art a whole lot and wanted to make something with these two for a while. <3

“Akaashiiiiiiii, I’m starvin’ heeeeeeere!” Bokuto whined and rubbed his stomach hungrily through his grey, sleeveless sports top. He had on sweatpants and no socks as he typically did whenever he was home and relaxing.

“Delivery will be here any minute, stop whining,” Akaashi said to his exuberant boyfriend while sitting on their couch. But the latter kept whining when all of the sudden, his stomach grumbled loud enough that even Akashi went slightly wide-eyed. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Bokuto tilted his head and looked up in thought. “Uhmm, like two hours ago?”

“Could you not think with your stomach for six seconds?”

“Sure!” Bokuto exclaimed and paused, as if he was listening intently. “...Hmmmh, my brain says I’m hungry too!”

Akaashi merely pinched his brow and huffed through his nostrils.

Still, for the grief he gave Bokuto, Akaashi had to admit, he was pretty hungry too; evident when his own stomach rumbled enough to make him blush. He gently rested a hand against his T-Shirt clad stomach and rubbed it softly.

But mercifully, the delivery guy came before Akaashi could have any more choice words for his gluttonous boyfriend or before his own stomach could embarrass him. Between Bokuto’s ravenous hunger and his own gnawing hunger pangs, he made it a point to order a considerable, extra amount of BBQ beef and steamed rice. It was Bokuto’s favorite dish and Akaashi had to admit, he was partial to it himself.

The spiky-haired boys mouth was practically drooling at the smell of the food. Akaashi set everything down on the floor where the two always sat to eat. Bokuto didn’t waste a second. He opened his takeout box and immediately dug in before Akaashi could even grab his own box. All Akaashi could do was watch his gluttonous boyfriend become a human trash compactor for food. It was like he was literally inhaling his meal of beef and rice with his chopsticks shoveling everything in his gaping mouth like one would shovel snow.

Akaashi didn’t think anyone loved food as much as Bokuto.

Still, fair’s fair. The beef was really good, especially when paired up with rice so fluffy and steamy.

Akaashi at his own pace while Bokuto ate like a cartoon on fast forward. He finished his first takeout box in record time and was already downing the contents of his second box. How the boy managed to eat so much all the time yet stay so fit, Akaashi chalked up to a great metabolism and their constant athleticism. Professional Volleyball in Japan was one of the most demanding sports one could ever play after all.

The meal went on with Akaashi moving onto his second box. In truth, he didn’t tend to eat this much, but he skipped lunch today and was really hungry. Bokuto, on the other hand, was already three boxes in and onto his fourth. How anyone could eat so much was a mystery to the raven-haired Akaashi, but it didn’t matter. Not when the end result caused Bokuto’s normally lean stomach to bulge out like that. His sleeveless sports shirt was naturally puffy as they tended to be, but even that wasn’t enough to mask the bump in his midsection that was growing tighter against his shirt with every mouthful swallowed down.

Akaashi had no clue why seeing his boyfriend eat so much always seemed to make him a little hot under the collar. But whatever the reason, the composed of the two volleyball players had accepted that he liked what he liked. Though, as their meal went on, Akaashi himself was starting to feel heavier than usual. He grimaced with discomfort and rested a hand against his own stomach and, much to his surprise, it was very noticeably pushing out; felt tight to the touch too. Akaashi blushed, not realizing he was eating so much. But he figured he was almost done, so he might as well finish what he had left.

The meal was eventually finished and the two athletes sat on the floor surrounded by empty takeout boxes and nursing their overstuffed bellies. Bokuto pronounced the completion of his gorging the way he always did; he slumped back and let out a huge burp. Akaashi rolled his eyes at Bokuto’s crudeness but blushed a little, both at the gross but impressive display, and especially the end result of Bokuto’s gorging. Bokuto had eaten so much that his stomach was partially exposed from under his shirt; it had bloated out by nearly two feet.

“Ahhh, man, I’m stuffed!” Bokuto exclaimed contently, patting his belly.

“Ungh, for once, you’re not the only one,” Akaashi complained, rubbing his own achingly full stomach softly. His t-shirt barely contained his middle, which pressed out by over a foot more than it usually did. Whereas Bokuto was sporting a sizable potbelly, Akaashi’s stomach looked like it had a prominent food baby; appearing very tight to the touch.

Akaashi blushed some more when he realized how bloated he was. He could eat when he was hungry, but he tried his best to make a point of not eating so much if he could help it. The only solace he took was the fact that, for as much as he ate, Bokuto still ate way more. A point Bokuto was more than happy to emphasize with another big, lengthy belch. He sighed when it ended and smacked his lips with a grin. “Not too shabby, amirite?”

Akashi simply glanced back at his boyfriend and was about to call him a pig. Instead, a burp of his own rolled out of his mouth the second he opened it. A loud one too. Akaashi’s eyes bugged out and he immediately covered his mouth while blushing immensely.

Bokuto blinked, then laughed heartily. “Gyahahahahaha!!!! Dude, that was epic!” Bokuto exclaimed, slugging his mild-mannered boyfriend in the arm.

Akaashi glared but it did nothing to quell his blush. “...That wasn’t epic,” Akaashi said with embarrassment. He would’ve said more, but he had to keep his mouth shut with a fist pressed against his lips as another burp tried to work its way up Akaashi’s throat. This time, he was able to hold it back, but it still rumbled in his mouth and made his cheeks puff up.

Bokuto saw Akaashi’s embarrassment; saw his cheeks redden even more, then decided to cut him a break with a sly grin. “Hmmm, y’know what? You’re right, that wasn’t epic at all. This is epic...”

Akaashi watched Bokuto swallow some air; saw his throat bob and heard it gurgle a little with his throat muscles hard at work getting that air down. Then, once Bokuto had enough air in his gut, he thumped his chest and let loose a resounding belch that dwarfed Akaashi’s in volume, length and rumble. It rolled out of him with such force that Akaashi almost felt like the ground itself shook, but that was probably because he was sitting right besides the burping boy.

Bokuto sighed loudly with relief and gave his belly a resounding pat. “Whew! Now that was a good one!”

“You’re an idiot,” Akaashi replied, but he said it with a grateful smile, which Bokuto met with his joyous grin.

“You know ya love it,” Bokuto teased.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not an idiot,” Akaashi responded, neither confirming nor denying Bokuto’s claim.

Though, that confirmation was made when the black-haired boy scooted over next to Bokuto and slid his hand underneath Bokuto’s shirt in order to rub Bokuto’s bulging belly.

Bokuto hummed and leaned back with his hands pressed up against the floor for support which made his stomach stick out more for Akaashi to rub. His hand ran up and down the bulging flesh, kneading into it while Akaashi stroked gently. Akaashi could hear Bokuto’s belly burbling deeply in tandem with his delicate touch. It was as if Bokuto’s belly itself was genuinely gurgling with pleasure at the treatment Akaashi was providing.

“Ohhhh man, that feels good,” Bokuto moaned out loud.

Akaashi knew what he was doing. He ran his palm in circular fashion all across Bokuto’s middle, digging his fingertips into the rounded top of Bokuto’s gut and making him moan a little louder. Then his hand drifted to Bokuto’s lower belly, which required Akaashi to tug his sweatpants down to expose more of that burgeoning stomach. There, Akaashi felt up Bokuto’s belly, stroking its underside from side to side.

Bokuto’s stomach churned deeply, which made Bokuto squirm a little uncomfortably. He sat up and tightened his face a little. Then, he grabbed his stomach with one hand and let loose a rumbling belch that rolled out of his for a few seconds. “Ungh, man, I’m feelin’ gassy today...”

When Bokuto said that, a thought occurred to Akaashi. Experimentally, he moved his hand to the center of Bokuto’s bulging belly, and pushed his palm deeply into it. Bokuto lurched but then threw his head back and burped again; a thundering, rumbling belch. Akaashi could actually feel the gas circulating up from Bokuto’s belly since his hand was pushing right up against that bloated stomach. He couldn’t help but blush again.

Bokuto gasped loudly and grinned a relieved but satisfied grin. “Gaaaah, dude, that felt good...! Thanks, man!”

Akaashi simply bowed his head and patted Bokuto’s belly then went back to rubbing away.

But as Akaashi rubbed, he froze in place when out of nowhere, Bokuto’s own hand slid underneath Akaashi’s t-shirt and started to rub his own belly. “...W-What are you doing...?” Akaashi asked, feeling flustered.

“Well, you’re always givin’ my belly some love, it’s only fair I repay the favor, right?” Bokuto explained, pulling Akaashi’s shirt up and exposing his bare stomach. He squirmed even more when Bokuto unbuttoned Akaashi’s jeans and pulled his zipper down to give his own bloated stomach some room to grow.

“...Th-That’s not-”

Akaashi couldn’t finish his sentence. The second Bokuto’s hand started rubbing circles against the center of Akaashi’s bloated stomach, the black-haired boy moaned with pleasure. It felt so shockingly good that he was almost stunned.

“...So that’s what that feels like...” Akaashi mused, settling down on the floor and relaxing, even while still stroking Bokuto’s much larger belly.

Bokuto snickered. “Yep! Sure is!”

Both athletes sat together, both gingerly stroking each others bellies and humming with delight. The belly rubs made Akaashi more relaxed than Bokuto had ever seen him. It brightened Bokuto’s day to see his boyfriend enjoying the treatment so much, so he kept at it.

His hand gently stroked up Akaashi’s belly, reaching his lean chest, and down to his underbelly. When he stroked up again, Bokuto kneaded around Akaashi’s belly button, which got quite a reaction from Akaashi himself. His cheeks darkened and he bit his lower lip at the feeling, which Bokuto took as a sign to keep going, even if Akaashi’s own rubbing halted in that moment. Bokuto continued kneading around Akaashi’s navel and got a pleased moan from the boy.

But that turned into a groan when Akaashi’s belly churned loudly again. He turned his head and muffled another burp, blushing afterwards and excusing himself.

Bokuto snickered. “Y’know, your stomach’ll feel a lot better if ya just let it out, dude. It’s just us. Ya don’t hafta be so polite.”

“I’m not just polite if people are around me or not,” Akaashi corrected.

“Whatever, man. Ya wanna feel better, don’tcha?”

Akaashi glared back at Bokuto, but when a sour, sickly gurgle bellowed from his belly and made him recoil, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking for some relief. So, when his gurgling gut gave him more grief and he felt some pressure coming up, against his better judgement, Akaashi turned his head, held a hand over his mouth and burped. It was pretty deep and brought a sliver of relief, even if Akaashi felt embarrassed to let it out like that.

Bokuto grinned. “Nice, but I think you can do better.”

And to prove his point, Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s belly and pressed it down.

There was a hefty rumble that erupted from Akaashi’s stomach in response. He lurched again and was unable to hold back the huge burp that erupted from his throat. It was loud enough that it could’ve almost been mistaken for one of Bokuto’s and actually lasted a few seconds too.

Akaashi would’ve been embarrassed if letting out such a big one didn’t feel so good.

He slumped back and moaned loudly. “Ahhh, wow, that’s...that’s a lot better...”

Bokuto grinned. “You’re welcome! Heh, hey, why don’t we grab some sodas’n get a burping contest going? Ya always say no whenever I challenge you, but now, ya seem to be gettin’ in the spirit of things.”

Akaashi just glared back at his boyfriend. But in spite of himself, that adorably happy grin of his was impossible not to smile at. “...I’ll go get the sodas,” he conceded. But before he did, Akaashi leaned forward and planted his lips against Bokuto’s by surprise. Now it was Bokuto’s turn to blush.

“What was...umm...what was that for?” Bokuto asked timidly.

“For being the big idiot I know and love for some reason,” Akaashi exclaimed and pushed himself up to head over to the kitchen.

Bokuto, who was still blushing, nonetheless smiled. “And I’m more than happy to be your idiot...”

#akaashi #bokuto #akaashi x bokuto #haikyuu!!#belly rub #belly kink #i ship it #burping #burp kink #stuffing #bloating #boyfriend #gay #haikyū!!#manga #anime

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

Text

right where you want me (m) | pjm

summary - nothing was getting you off anymore, no matter how hard you tried. Luckily, your neighbor Jimin was happy to help.

rating- explicit 18+

word count- 3680

pairing- jimin x reader

genre- smut

Warnings: rough sex, spanking, oral (female recieving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex

a/n thank you so much to @sweetnspicy93 for beta reading and helping me you’re amazing

“Mmm.. Jimin! Fuck!” you moaned, the familiar fire burning deep in your belly.

You worked yourself closer to release, one hand pumping the vibrator in and out of your aching hole while the other circled your clit. You were teetering on the edge, so close to release, images of Jimin’s ass in his slacks from when he’d dressed up the night before flitted through your mind. You imagined your heels digging into that plump bottom, legs wrapped around his torso while he fucked you senseless.

You could almost feel the weight of his body on yours, could almost imagine he was really there with you, if it weren’t for the buzzing noise coming from between your thighs. You tried imagining that Jimin was using the toy on you instead, but you could already feel your orgasm retreating as your fantasy dissolved and reality washed over you like a splash of cold water. You’d been so close this time… until it died away, leaving you unsatisfied. Again.

You groan in frustration for probably the 100th night in a row. Laying in your bed with your vibrator in hand just wasn’t doing the trick. Nothing seemed to do the trick anymore. You’d tried Tinder hookups, you’d tried the detachable shower head, probably 15 different sex toys, and nothing was getting you off anymore. You were convinced your pussy was broken.

On the verge of tears, you chucked the useless toy against the wall with a thud, and it hit the floor and split open, batteries rolling in different directions.You watched them roll away and sighed, pulling your pajama shorts back up and accepting defeat.

You weren’t sure why you even tried anymore. It was clear you’d probably never get to orgasm again. Your problem began when your new neighbor moved in next door. It was 3 and a half months ago, and one look at the man had you weak in the knees. He radiated sex appeal. From his skin tight jeans that showcased his perfect ass to his flowing, see-through white top unbuttoned about halfway, teasing you with defined abs, to his piercing eyes and the plushest lips you’d ever seen in your life.

Even the way he walked made arousal pool in your panties. He knew he was sexy, he had the toned body of a dancer and his movements were graceful and confident. When he’d directed his pearly white smile at you, you were a goner. That was the day that Park Jimin had ruined you.

You’d gotten to know Jimin a little better over the past few months. You both left for work at the same time and would walk to your cars together, chatting about anything and nothing at all. Sometimes he’d get up early to bring you coffee or you’d bring him some cookies you’d made. You were friendly enough, but you did try to keep a little bit of distance since being anywhere within ten feet of him had you feral and dizzy.

If Jimin noticed your obsession with him, he didn’t say anything. He just smiled at you like everything was normal and asked if you’d caught the newest episode of The Masked Singer. Jimin was kind, he was funny, he was polite, and he was devastatingly handsome. Every new fact you learned about him only made you like him more, want him more.

How many nights did you lay alone in your bed, fantasizing about Jimin and the way his hips moved? How much stamina he must have? He’d dance for hours at the local studio, you knew he could go several rounds. He had so much control over his body, you loved imagining how that would play into how well he could fuck your brains out. Pretty well, you guessed.

Just this morning, he’d offered to give you a ride to work, saying that he had a dancing class to teach nearby at a new venue. You’d agreed, not wanting to be rude, and also it was good for the environment, right? Cutting on gas emissions. That was why you wanted to get in his car. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You immediately regretted that decision. Jimin’s car was very nice and clean, but it was small. His thick, juicy thighs were mere centimeters from your own and his hand brushed against yours whenever he had to change gears. Jimin's car smelled like him- prim and proper with a hint of his cologne. Sitting so close to him, completely enveloped in the scent of him in the small space.. you could almost imagine him leaning your seat back and having his way with you in his car. You had to rub your thighs together to get some comfort from the pooling moisture between your thighs. This was going to be a major test of your self control.

You tried to focus on the tranquil turn of the steering wheel in Jimin's hands instead. Jimin was a smooth driver, which you weren’t surprised about. It seemed like you couldn’t find a single thing he didn’t excel at. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking over to you every so often though, making your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink. Jimin was paying more attention to you than the road and didn’t notice the speed bump. He didn’t slow down in time and drove right over it, jostling the whole car. His arm shot out to shield you from the impact, his hand landing right above your breast.

Your brain seemed to short circuit, your eyes widened and you stared at Jimin’s hand. He was frozen in shock and made no attempt to remove his hold on your body. You could barely breathe, the heat from his skin soaking through your shirt had shivers racing through your spine. You were vibrating with sexual tension, losing your mind. When he finally regained his senses, he yanked his arm back, fingers accidentally grazing across your nipple. Your body jolted and heat rushed between your thighs. If you didn’t get out of his car soon you were going to attack him.

“I’m… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” he mumbled.

“It’s okay.” you tried to make your voice sound even, but it came out breathless.

You thanked Jimin once you’d exited the car and politely refused his offer to pick you up after work, lying that you had plans with a friend. You’d spent all day at work horny as you’d 8ever been, tortured for eight hours with sticky thighs and an unbearable yearning between your legs, which was what brought you here, denied yet another orgasm because you just wanted Jimin between your thighs, not that stupid plastic imitation.

Even now you couldn’t stop shivering when you thought back to how close he was, how good he smelled… you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining his sweaty body after dance class… You punched your pillow with a loud whine before you heard a heavy knock at your door. You made your way to the front door and opened it, immediately being pushed back into the wall with a pair of soft, plushy lips on yours.

You only knew it was Jimin by his smell, and the small flash you’d seen of him before he’d basically attacked you.You froze for a moment, shocked and reeling. Jimin was kissing you. The same Jimin who had consumed your thoughts and dreams for months. Those soft, pink lips were pressed against your own and it felt better than you could’ve ever imagined. You kissed him back with fervor, though you weren’t really sure what brought this on, you weren’t about to tell him no. Live out your fantasies first, ask questions later. His kisses left your lips and moved over to the shell of your ear.

“You know our bedrooms share a wall, right?” he purred, “I’ve been listening to you fuck yourself for months, calling out my name.”

“What?” you squeaked in embarrassment, trying to cling to the minimal amount of brain function you had left while his lips worked their way down your neck, “why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was trying to get to know you, do this right. But I’m so tired of listening to you not get off.” he hissed. “None of those boys knew how to fuck you right. I’m going to help you baby.”

Quiet whimpers left your lips when he began rocking his hips into yours, his hard member grinding against your core. Jimin pulled his lips from your skin and looked into your eyes. You saw his pupils were blown with lust. His usually perfectly styled hair fell into his eyes and he shook it away, breathing just as ragged as your own.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” he spoke evenly, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips.

“Please don’t stop.” you whispered, swallowing nervously.

Jimin smiled, his eyes burning with desire as he backed you up towards your room, shoving you down on the bed and crawling until his body hovered over yours. His lips reattaching to your skin had your hips bucking up into his, desperate for any kind of friction. You probably should’ve been embarrassed at how desperate you seemed but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when your wildest fantasies were being played out before your very eyes.

“So impatient.” Jimin tsked, hand sliding up your shirt and under your bra to grasp your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Jimin…” you whined.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Jimin purred in your ear.

“Touch me.” you begged.

“I am.” he teased, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers again.

You whined loudly, rolling your hips up to meet his.

“Nuh uh, use your words.” he encouraged.

“Please, I want you. Your fingers, your cock, anything. I just need you inside me.” you writhed against him.

“Mmm… good girl.” he smirked, making his way down your body and leaving a trail of love bites.

His skilled mouth sucked and nipped at your skin like he was a professional. Jimin instinctively knew how to work your body, how to draw the neediest moans from your pretty lips. Your body was on fire, and he was your gasoline, fueling the blaze the closer he got to where you wanted, where you needed him. His fingers gripped the elastic of your pajama shorts, tugging them off and tossing them aside.

He peppered hot kisses along your panty-covered slit, deciding to tease you rather than give you what you wanted. Jimin wanted you begging for him, needy and desperate.Jimin wanted to get back at you. For all the sleepless nights he lay awake listening to your moans on the other side of the wall, calling to him like a siren. He relieved himself more times than he can count to just your breathy moans and was left wanting more. He intended to drive you to the point of insanity before he let you have your release. He wanted to make sure no one would ever be good enough for you again, you’d only want him. No other man would ever touch you again.

He ran his tongue along the lace of your panties, dampening the already sticky fabric. His barely there touches were making you dizzy and you whimpered, lacing your fingers through his thick, soft hair. Tears were forming at the edges of your vision, so desperate for release you hadn’t found in months, and Jimin’s touches were ghosting along your skin raising goosebumps in their wake but they weren’t enough.

Finally, he pushed your panties aside and his tongue dipped into your heat. You almost cried out in relief when you felt his muscle sliding along your walls and licking designs on your clit. Your back arched off the bed and he used one hand to hold your hips in place while he continued to drive you mad with his skillful tongue.

He slipped a finger deep in your hole, curling it and hitting your gspot with every flick of his wrist. The way Jimin worked your body put all your Tinder dates to shame. You knew he was a sexpert upon first glance but you didn’t realize he could perform actual magic between your thighs. He added a second finger, then a third, stretching your walls.

Jimin pumped his fingers in and out of you at the perfect rhythm, alternating the timing of his fingers with the flicks of his tongue on your sensitive bundle of nerves and you could feel yourself climbing towards your end. Your whines got louder, your cries needier. You couldn’t stop yourself from bucking your hips against Jimin’s hold.

“Oh, fu- JIMIN!”

Finally, for the first time in months, the sweet blissful, euphoria consumed your body. Jimin’s ministrations sent you over the edge, your orgasm completely consuming your being. You felt like you were ascending out of your body and soaring into the night sky while Jimin worked you through your release. Jimin did not slow down, even as you began to settle from your high.

You attempted to push him away, feeling overly sensitive from your first orgasm in three months, but Jimin was stronger than you, and soon the burning turned to pleasure again, building back up much quicker than the first, and you wriggled beneath Jimin’s hold on your hips. Mere minutes after your first orgasm, another crashed through you, just as intense as the first. Jimin finally relented, leaving a soft peck on your folds as he pulled away from your trembling body.

His chin covered in your juices, he grinned at you, moving up to place a kiss on your lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and somehow that was erotic enough to create another wave of arousal to gush from your over-sensitive cunt. You moaned into Jimin’s kiss, nipping at his swollen lips.

“Mmm.. your turn.” you smirked, reaching down and palming at his hardened member, but Jimin stopped you.

“No tonight is about you, baby. We have all the time in the world for that later. I just want to be inside you.” he purred into your ear, nibbling at the skin.

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. You reached down to pull his sweats down his thick, delicious thighs and tossed them aside. He lifted your shirt and sports bra off of you effortlessly, licking his lips at the sight of your nipples peaked and ready for attention. His tongue swiped a bold line across one, then the other, forcing shivers from your fucked out body. You quickly tugged at his boxers, simply unable to wait any longer.

“Need you. Now.” you panted.

Jimin smirked, shimmying out of his boxers and hovering over you.

His length brushed against your folds and both of you groaned. Jimin’s cock was thick, so hard it looked painful, and dribbling precum from his pretty round tip. Jimin froze, looking like he was about to cry.

“I forgot a condom.” he nearly whimpered.

“I’ve got an IUD.” you assured him, running your fingers through his hair to get the sweaty mess out of his eyes.

“Oh thank god.” he breathed in relief, body shuddering.

Before you could reply, Jimin was entering you, he just couldn’t hold back anymore. He started off slowly, making sure you could handle the stretch and burn. Your breathless moans of his name made it hard for Jimin to keep control, and soon he was pounding ruthlessly into your soaking cunt. Your headboard bounced against the wall but you couldn’t force yourself to care, not when Jimin felt so good buried inside you.

Jimin seemed to reach places within you that no other man had before, like he was made perfectly for you and you perfectly for him. He fit inside you so well, his cock brushing against your walls was driving you insane. You weren’t sure how he hit that lovely spot inside of you every time, but his expert thrusts hit the best angle every time.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. So wet for me baby.” Jimin grunted as he continued to snap his hips into yours.

“Jimin!” you gasped when his teeth began to nip at your collarbones.

“That’s it baby, say my name… who fucks you this good? Who owns this pussy?” he growled, bringing one hand between your bodies to circle at your clit.

“You, Jimin!” you groaned, body bouncing with the forceful impact of Jimin’s thrusts.

“Louder!” he commanded, his hips snapping harshly while his fingers increased their speed on your nub.

“Fuck, JIMIN!” you screamed.

“You feel better than I imagined, princess. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to wreck your pretty little pussy? I used to get off with you, you know.” he groaned while his hands found your hair and pulled so your neck was exposed for him to litter hickeys on.

“Oh god.” you moaned at the idea of Jimin alone in his bed, hand wrapped around his cock while he got off to the sound of you getting off to him.

“Mmm… it took everything I had not to come over here and make you cum all over my cock. Your sweet pussy is even tighter and wetter than I’d dreamed. Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me.” his voice shook.

Without warning, Jimin flipped you over onto your stomach and started pounding into you from behind, reaching a whole new angle you didn’t even know existed but had your head spinning. You pushed your hips back against his to meet his every thrust. You were jolted out of your blissful state when his hand came and smacked your ass, sending electricity straight to your core.Your pussy clenched around his length and he let out a strangled groan.

“You like that, huh? Such a dirty girl. How many times did you fuck yourself without me?” he questioned innocently.

“Ummm… I’m not sure.” you confessed. “I haven’t gotten off since you moved in though.”

“Hmmm.. then how many Tinder dates did you have instead of coming to find me?” he wondered.

“Ummm, 4?” you answered, unsure of why he was asking about your other sexual partners while he was balls deep inside you.

“Mmm… you’ve been a bad girl. You should’ve just come to me. Count.” he ordered, his palm coming down swiftly on your bottom again.

“Ah, one.” you moaned quietly, clenching around him again.

“Mmm.. you like this a little too much.” Jimin chuckled, bringing a harsher slap down on your ass, then soothing the red skin with a gentle brush of his fingers.

“Two.” you whimpered blissfully.

Jimin loved the way your skin turned red under his efforts, and he loved the way you tightened around him every time he delivered a spank to the soft skin of your bottom. He admired it for a moment, fingers tenderly grazing over the skin before he unexpectedly left another harsh slap on your skin.

Your body jolted forward with the impact and you groaned low in your throat at the blissful burning on your backside.

“Three.” left your lips in a whisper as your high drew closer with Jimin’s actions.

His pace didn’t slow down while he “punished” you in the best way, and you were just on the edge of oblivion when he delivered the final slap. You screamed as your high washed over you, even more intense than the first two, and Jimin’s thrusts got sloppier as he met his own end soon after you. He worked you both through your orgasms until you were shaking and tears were falling from the corners of your eyes. Jimin collapsed next to you, trying to steady his breathing just as you were.

“Are you okay?” he asked between his deep breaths.

“So okay.” you sighed happily, a small giggle rising from your throat. “Ugh, it feels so good to finally cum.”

“Mmm… you’re so sexy when you do.” he grinned, licking his lips suggestively.

You covered your face to hide your blush and he only laughed, crawling off the bed and going to grab a damp washcloth. He returned and knelt between your thighs, running the cloth gently along your folds to clean up the mix of your juices and his cum seeping out of your spent pussy. You whimpered at the overstimulation, and Jimin tossed the cloth into your hamper.

You reached out for him and tugged him back into bed with you, and he wrapped his arms around your frame, holding you against his chest. Your breathing was still labored but feeling Jimin’s body against your own felt more important than oxygen in that moment. He stroked your hair gently with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around you.

“I hope you realize I’m not going to let you go now.” you smiled into his chest. “There’s no way anyone is ever going to top that.”

Jimin laughed, a deep, full belly laugh and pulled you closer into his embrace, kissing the top of your head.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll fuck you whenever you want.” he grinned. “But I really would like to take you on a date sometime.”

“I’d really like that.” you blushed, looking up to meet his eyes.

Jimin bit his lip to try and hide the smile that threatened to spread on his swollen, deliciously red lips. You let yours free though, grinning up at him like a kid on Christmas. Jimin’s resolve broke and his smile spread from ear to ear.

“Where would you want to go?” he asked, idly playing with your fingers.

“Hmmm... I don’t know. Somewhere lowkey but fun? I want to get to know you better.” you hummed thoughtfully, watching his expression.

“Okay… maybe… the amusement park? Then dinner?” he offered. “Or would you rather go to a movie? Or we could-” he began.

You giggled and pressed your finger to his plush lips.

“It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as you’re there. You’ve got me right where you want me.”

#park jimin #jimin #bts #bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #jimin x reader

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