#where you just grow apart despite how close you may have been once upon a time

[midnightshade]

“I think there are people that help you become the person that you end up being, and you can be grateful for them even if they were never meant to be in your life forever.”

#jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #geto suguru #gojo satoru #never realized how well this Bojack Horsemen quote worked for them #i love the tragedy of their friendship because it reminds me of some of my old friendships #where you just grow apart despite how close you may have been once upon a time #midnight seance

[nichirinpen]

Flame in his Heart

Rengoku x Reader

Part 3 (Part 2 here  AO3)

Synopsis- An arranged marriage, a horrible father-in-law and a husband who seemed content ignoring you. Can you weather the larger storm brewing? Will Kyojuro ever open up to you?

Content Warnings: AFAB reader descriptions, slow burn, mentions of alcoholism (not the reader), strangers to friends to lovers,  dark themes, mention of suicidal thoughts

~Minors DNI~

One week. 

In just one week, it would be your 1 year anniversary of being married. The thought sickened you. Not because of your husband, Kyojuro no longer caused you stress. Just a month ago yes, that might’ve been the case. But no, the sick feeling that twisted through your chest was because of your father-in-law. Shinjuro had insisted on a celebration, the man leaving no room for argument. And so, an event was being planned and you knew with it he was planning something to humiliate you. The pending date hung over you, like a cloud of mold. Your mind was constantly plagued by thoughts of what Shinjuro might do. No physical harm would befall you of course. But there were so many ways he could publicly humiliate you, too many to count. The drunk hadn’t let anything slip. No, in fact he hadn’t spoken to you nor visited since Kyojuro had punched him. All communication had been through various butlers, the staff scurrying from one manor to the other. It was the most annoying game of whisper down the alley.

Normally you would have been thrilled with the lack of communication. But this scared you. Your father in-law was up to something and you had no idea what. You almost wished to face the drunken yelling, that at least was predictable. This event however was sneaky, a snake lying in waiting.

Shinjuro had sent, of course, an event planner to the estate. You had been shocked when your newest butler had advised you of her arrival. The party was still a week away and yet, the entire house needed to be ready immediately. The thin woman had been flitting about for hours, humming over this and that. 

You had been trailing behind her, room to room, listening tiredly as she huffed over decorations, space, etc. She barked orders at both you and your staff in a terse tone. You hated it. Her sharp words grated against your eardrums, the stiff down turn of her lips infuriating. This would be the first event held at your home, the staff you had just been growing accustomed to had been fired, again. None of the faces around you were familiar. According to Shinjuro the estate needed “Properly Trained” staffing for the event.

You knew it meant he wanted people he knew without a shadow of a doubt would report back to him on the goings on in his son’s estate. No matter where you were in the house, even your bedroom, a member of staff was always nearby, watching. They lurked like shadows, scurrying away when you caught a glimpse of them. You began to detest them, each new face another threat to your peace and quiet.

But there wasn’t anything for them to report. At least not currently.

Your husband had been sent on an overseas business trip the day after the fiasco that had occurred. It was a punishment, the both of you knew it. Kyojuro assured you that you would be fine, that should anything occur, Genya could be relied upon. 

He had left the next morning without even a glance at you, per usual. It made your heart ache for once, fear of being alone and dealing with incoming retribution making your stomach drop. And now despite the nice bath, the words shared that night, you were a sea apart. There was no growing closer, no strategizing about how to deal with his father. Kyojuro had advised not to send texts or emails that were out of the norm, advising that his father could and would read everything. It sickened you to be watched so closely.

“Mrs. Rengoku, if I may, I think the pale green curtains you have and magenta streamers may clash.” 

You stared at the event planner from your seat in the library. She stood rigidly, graying hair swept into a tight bun, her blue clipboard clenched tightly against her chest. You wondered how she had known to find you here, but figured it was the staff. After being shushed rather rudely, you had decided to depart and let the bird-like woman push the staff around. She hadn’t noticed or hadn't cared, allowing you to slip away to gain some space from the bustle of activity. The house was teeming with staff and the event set up. All of it out of your control, you were merely a fancy decoration along with the rest of the house. 

“Well.” You paused, closing your book as you scrambled to recall her name, “Ms. Gloria, I don’t recall choosing a color theme.”

You waited, knowing full well that you hadn’t. The color palette of the home, grays and pale greens, was not of your choosing. The similar colors of your wardrobe, also not of your choosing. Picking how things went was not a privilege you had in this life. That was for Shinjuro to decide. 

The pause was long and you could see the other woman’s face twisting in distaste. She did not like your comment, it seemed. What had Shinjuro told her about you?

“Well I'm just going off the palette chosen by Mr. Rengoku.” Her tone was clipped, eyes narrowed as she looked at you. The Mr. Rengoku in question was not your husband, you knew this. It never was when you spoke to staff, event planners, colleagues of your husband. You bit your bottom lip as you thought. Now that you truly thought about it, nearly everyone referred to your husband as “Mr. Kyojuro”. As if he was still a child under his father’s thumb. 

Ms. Gloria looked at her clipboard, her thin lips pulled in a straight line as she looked at whatever was written. You stood, shelving your book and brushing off your dress, smoothing the silky saffron fabric. The dress fit you perfectly, the action was merely a way to gather your thoughts as you pondered your next step. Clapping your hands together, you look at the other woman, a polite smile on your face. 

“Why don’t we change the colors then? I’ll ask the staff to change the house up a bit.” You wiggled your fingers at her clipboard, “I’m thinking red so why don’t we do yellow streamers.” 

Ms. Gloria opened her mouth, no doubt to protest. You flapped a hand at her, cutting her off with what you hoped was a convincing smile. Playing the dumb ditz was becoming easier, your rudeness being overlooked as stupidity. “Mr. Rengoku won’t mind.” 

He would mind intensely. The fall out from this would hopefully be wrapped up nicely in the anniversary gathering. As long as he didn’t visit before the celebration. You weren’t sure what would happen if you were alone with him. The thought was terrifying. 

You realized you were clenching your fists and forced yourself to relax. The small dents your nails left in your palm ached slightly, a reminder to stay calm, stay perfect. Ms. Gloria nodded at you stiffly and left the library. You followed her out, motioning to one of the maids who was lurking by the door. The girl looked nervous, no doubt thinking she was going to get in trouble for eavesdropping. She wouldn’t, of course, you had no say in the constant monitoring. 

“Do we have red linens?” Your question seemed to confuse her. She blinked, looked around as if waiting for direction, then back at you. Her uniform was ill-fitting, too large and you suppressed a sigh. Shinjuro made all these staff changes but never bothered to ensure the staff were properly clothed. You didn’t think you had even been told her name, hell any of their names.

“Red linens ma’am?” 

You nodded, “The curtains, table cloths, hand towels, bedding. I would like them all switched out for the event.” 

The house was mostly painted in whites and grays, it was void of color except for the light green linens. Red was a color that you saw rarely, mostly just in your husband’s hair. Even your wardrobe seemed devoid of it, as if Shinjuro was disgusted by the color, instead insisting everything be blue and green to snuff out the bright color. 

The maid  blinked owlishly up at you, her confusion seeming to grow. You waited, trying to keep your face pleasant. Snapping would get you nowhere, they were used to that with Shinjuro. Kindness was your key to making any sort of changes to the estate. 

Finally the girl nodded and scurried off. You took the nod as confirmation that it would get done. Sighing, your shoulders slumped. You had made a decision, a massive one all things considered. If you were lucky it wouldn’t be detected until the event. But you knew that was a fool’s hope. With the constant monitoring someone would tell Shinjuro within a matter of days.

With a slightly shaking hand you patted your hair, it was perfect, as always. You were perfect as always. A clatter came from down the hall and you could hear the event planner squawking at someone. Turning, you made your way to the front door. 

You didn’t want to be near Ms. Gloria, nor the staff. They buzzed about like bees, frantic in their need to make everything perfect. The nervous energy in the house was suffocating, it filled your throat and mouth with a bad taste.

Turning the handle of the front door, you tugged it open, welcoming the bright daylight. And promptly froze at the sight before you. It was Kyojuro. You blinked stupidly at the man, then frowned. No he was too short. You glanced behind you, then back, unsure of how to proceed. Before you was a young man who looked strikingly like your husband. He was younger by several years, his stature smaller than your husband’s. You also noted what appeared to be a private academy uniform and matching tote bag. 

The young man seemed equally surprised to see you, his eyes wide as he watched you slip out the front door and close it behind you. He seemed unsettled, stepping back reflexively as you stepped closer.

“Can I help you?” Your voice carried your uncertainty. It shook you to see someone who was the spitting image of your husband and his father. Was he a relative, a cousin maybe? Other than Kyojuro’s mother you hadn’t been told about any other relatives.

“Um. Im Senjuro Rengoku, is my brother in?” 

You blinked. No that couldn’t be right, you hadn’t heard him properly. Tilting your head, you let out a nervous laugh, mind racing, “Your brother?”

The young man nodded, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked at you and then the doors of the estate. You nodded back slowly, hand pressed to your mouth as you tried to calm your mind. 

Why had Kyojuro not told you? Was it Shinjuro’s doing? Was this boy truly your husband’s brother? Was this a trick, a cruel prank of some sort from Shinjuro? A test maybe? 

“But.” You lowered your hand, forehead wrinkled in confusion, “My husband doesn’t have a brother?” 

It came out as a weak question, but the effect it had on the young man was visceral. Senjuro rocked back as if hit, his eyes wide, lips trembling as he mouthed what you had stated. His hands came up, twisting together nervously as he looked at you, tears in his eyes. The small tote bag sat at his feet, dropped in his shock. Your response had upset him immensely. 

Looking back at the house, the empty windows that might soon contain spying staff, you took action. Grabbing his hand you hurried down the driveway towards the garage. Genya would be there no doubt, it would be a safe place to talk. Senjuro followed, sniffling slightly. The gravel crunched loudly as you trotted to the large garage. You slipped slightly on the slippery gravel, cursing at your heels. Slowing down you kept your hand on Senjuro’s arm, reaching out to knock on the side of the garage.

“You ok Mrs. Rengoku?!” It was Genya, he must’ve heard you slip. The young man exited the building, wiping his hands with a rag. There were large streaks of grease smeared across his face. The front of his overalls fared a similar fate, the blue fabric dark with car oil. You had interrupted car maintenance it seemed. 

“I’m ok. Is the garage safe to talk in?” 

He nodded slowly,tossing the rag onto the hood of one of the many cars. Genya froze, then smiled as he caught sight of Senjuro. “Dude. You’re back?!” 

Genya pulled the other boy into a rough hug, cackling as he did so. Neither of them seemed to notice the grease that rubbed off onto Senjuro’s uniform. Both boys seemed thrilled to see each other, their smiles huge as they turned to enter the garage. Following them into the building, you cast a furtive glance back at the house, windows still empty. Good, they could spy on the empty rooms for the time being. 

The garage stunk, patches of oil soaked concrete giving off the awful odor. You tried your best not to make a face, the fumes making you want to gag. Neither boy seemed to mind, or they were used to it. Genya leaned back against one of Kyojuro’s cars, his grin wide as Senjuro softly spoke. You stayed quiet for a moment, taking in the rows of tools and the many parts littered around the various tables. The boys went quiet, watching you glance about. You shot them a tired smile.

“So, Kyojuro has a brother?” You collapsed onto the patchwork armchair Genya kept near his tool bench. It creaked horrible and you winced as a rouge spring dug into your back. Shifting uncomfortably, you waited for an answer. Both boys nodded at you, Senjuro looking confused and Genya looking sheepish.

“Is this another one of Shinjuro’s stupid rules?” Your tone was tired, you tilted your head back against the chair, looking up at the dusty rafters of the garage. There were small holes in the roof, the sunlight streaming in catching the dancing dust particles in the air. You grimaced, looking back at the two boys. Both of them looked at eachother, then at you. Senjuro opened his mouth, then closed it, his hand clenching the strap of his tote bag.

“I don’t know.” His lip trembled as he looked at you, “Kyo didn’t even tell me he got married.” 

Your heart ached for the young man. He looked devastated, amber eyes swimming with tears he was trying so hard not to shed. The boy was like a tiny version of your husband, your mind going back to the night he first cried in front of you.

Standing you quickly drew him into a hug. Senjuro’s fingers dug into your dress, his shoulders shaking as he began to cry silently. His head pressed against your collar bone, warm tears soaking into the fabric of your dress. It felt oddly similar to when you had held Kyojuro. The anger, the hurt, both men so tormented by their fucked up father. You patted his short fiery locks gently, looking at Genya who remained silent, his expression guilty. The young man sighed, his mohawk flopping in his face as he looked at the floor. 

“Mr. Rengoku told Kyojuro that if you were told about Senjuro, he would never be able to visit his mother’s grave again.” 

Oh of course he did, anger welled in your stomach, churning like a great beast within your blood. Black mailing your children was such a classy thing to do, you thought bitterly. Senjuro cried harder at the words, hiccuping as he sobbed into your shoulder. You rubbed his back reassuringly, ignoring the wet patch that was spread across your shoulder. Genya’s bottom lip trembled slightly, he looked ready to cry now. He twisted the dirty rag in his hand, taking a deep breath as he continued. 

“He was also told that if he told Senjuro about you, that um, Mr. Rengoku would make sure he never saw Senjuro again.”

Your mouth dropped open. What in the hell was wrong with the man? Had alcohol addled his brain so much that he no longer could think logically? How could a parent be so cruel to their child? 

Your own parents came to mind, their large smiles not at you, but at the check that was handed over as you were escorted like a prisoner to a private limo. Not even a true goodbye from them, just a limp wave in your general direction. Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol at all, but the money. It seemed the more one had, the less human they behaved. 

Senjuro pulled away from you, swiping a hand across his eyes. He looked so hurt, his frame shaking as he tried to catch his breath. You patted his hair reassuringly, flashing him a small smile.

The young man looked at you, running a hand under his nose as he stared. He was sizing you up, you realized. Straightening, you smiled at him, hands naturally coming up to rest at your waist. It was a pose you had perfected for photos with Kyojuro and meetings with Shinjuro. 

“You look nice.” Senjuro smiled, rubbing at his puffy eyes, “Your hug was warm, kind.” He paused, lips trembling again as he stared, “It's been a while since I’ve been hugged.” 

Poor kid, your heart ached for him. He looked so lost and sad. The apparent exclusion his father had him put through weighing on him heavily. It made your anger at the drunk swell in your breast. Your hands shook slightly as you attempted to swallow the fury.

“Do you guys want a snack?” Genya motioned to a small door in the back of the garage. Senjuro nodded and trailed after him. You followed quietly, feeling worried. To your surprise, you found yourself walking into what appeared to be Genya’s room. A small bed with purple blankets was tucked in the corner on one side. On the other a small kitchenette with a table and two chairs. Did Genya stay out here by himself? You worriedly looked about, noting how drafty the space was, the apparent lack of a bathroom. The other staff also lived on the grounds, but in a small house at the back of the estate. It had separate rooms, spacious living areas for hobbies. This was so cramped in comparison. And right against the garage, you noted that the smell of motor oil and other fumes persisted here. That couldn’t be good for his health. 

“I don’t mind Mrs. Rengoku.” Genya had noticed your worried look. He uncovered a plate of muffins, placing them on the kitchen table. Senjuro sat taking one tiredly. You noted how natural it seemed for him, they must’ve been friends. 

You sat gingerly on Genya’s bed, it was the only open space available. Through the rough blanket you could feel the springs of the mattress digging into your rear. You tried your best to hide your disgust. Shinjuro was one of the richest men in the world and yet his staff had ill fitting uniforms and broken mattresses. It was shameful. 

“Father wasn’t at his estate. So I came here.” You looked up at Senjuro’s words, a frown slipping onto your face. 

“Did you go to the summer estate or the winter one?” You asked, trying to think of where else the man liked to reside. He had several mansions but only two were considered ‘Estates’ by definition due to their sprawling land. Then again there was the new one you had recently seen, though you doubted he was there. Senjuro seemed confused by your question, shaking his head in response.

“I don’t know. I just went to the one I grew up in.” He picked at the muffin in front of him, lips quivering again. “The one near the city center.”

You nodded, that was the historical manor, one that Shinjuro tended to only spend the Summer time in. From what little you had gleaned, it was more convenient business wise during the company's busiest season.

“I think due to the time of year he’s at the winter estate.” You glanced at Genya for help. Other than a few street names, you actually had no idea where anything was located. The city of Nichirin was thousands of miles from your hometown and so different. Genya nodded thoughtfully, quickly swallowing his mouthful of food.

“I actually don’t think he’s in the country right now.” The boy’s response surprised you. Leaning in, you shot him a questioning glance. Genya shrugged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“My big brother is the head of security and goes everywhere with Mr. Rengoku. He left for America a few days ago.”

You sat back, nodding. That was very good news for you. The old man was in an entirely different part of the world, which meant your little antics here wouldn’t get back to him quickly. In fact you might be able to do a little more outside of the norm without any push back. At least not until the party. 

“If he finds out I’m here. Kyojuro will get in trouble.” Senjuro’s voice broke through your train of thought, the sight of him crying again alarming you. The boy swiped hurriedly at the fat tears rolling down his cheeks, his fluffy brow furrowed. Fishing in your dress pocket, you pulled out a handkerchief, passing it to the sniffling boy.

“My private school's out for the winter. But, I don’t know where to go.” Senjuro was sobbing again, pressing his face in the handkerchief as he did so. It tore your heart in two. The boy seemed so earnest and sweet, yet so very sad. 

You didn’t want Kyojuro to be punished any further and you had a feeling Senjuro would be as well. Word of his arrival would ripple through the staff and eventually make its way back to Shinjuro’s ear. You bit your bottom lip, tapping your wedding ring as you thought. 

This was a road bump you would have never thought of. You watched as Senjuro took a glass of water from Genya, both boys sharing a sad smile. Sending him away would be cruel, you mused. And besides, a part of you wanted him to stay. You had so many questions.

Shifting in your seat you winced as another spring dug into you, the sharp metal feeling like it would poke right through your ass cheek. You shifted back and then paused, an idea swimming to the surface of your mind.

Genya needed a new room. The garage and its stink was unacceptable. There were free rooms in the main estate. The small guest suites on the second floor that no one used. You knew for a fact the one on the west side of the house, closest to the back stairs to your room, had two beds. It was a full suite with a master bathroom, small kitchen and plenty of space for two teen boys. You almost cackled out loud, glee coursing through your veins at the idea. 

Shinjuro would be livid if he ever found out. But what he didn’t know, absolutely thrilled you. 

You tugged your phone from its pocket, quickly unlocking it. For just a moment hesitation stilled you, your thumb hovering over Kyojuro’s contact in your phone. But no, he was your husband, you were united.

You quickly pressed it, holding your phone to your ear. Genya and Senjuro shot you identical looks of confusion. You smiled at them, raising a finger to your lips with a wink. In truth you did not expect Kyojuro to pick up. He rarely messaged you and phone calls just did not occur. You knew it was mostly because his father’s intrusive need to monitor everything. But you also knew how busy he was, running the company alongside the old man.

“Yes?” No greeting, just a short word. You jumped at the sound of his voice, heart beat picking up as you took a deep breath.

“Hi! Kyojuro.” You paused, not sure how to continue the conversation. It was simple, ask him about the guest room. But the knowledge that your conversation would later have a third listener gnawed at the back of your mind. 

“Yes?” The word was clipped, a huff of frustration leaving your husband's lips. He must be busy, you realized, chewing at your bottom lip. 

“Well, husband. I find Genya’s room situation completely unacceptable. I think for the time being he should be moved to the main estate.” 

There was a lengthy pause. Then a very confused, “What?” 

Kyojuro sounded distracted and you could hear other voices distantly around him. Had you interrupted a meeting of some sort? You shook the thought from your head, pushing on.

“The room reeks of motor fumes and oil. This is a serious detriment to his health.” You paused, taking a deep breath. In front of you the two teens had become extra befuddled. Genya was mouthing that he was fine. You waved your hand at him as you continued. “So as I said. I propose he is moved to the main estate. At least until we get a contractor to fix this, mess.” 

On the other end of the line you heard Kyojuro let out a huff. You couldn’t tell if it was laughter or a noise of annoyance. A pause and then he sighed.

“Do what you see is fit.”

The line disconnected. That was it. No goodbye, nothing. A small part of you wondered if he was acting irritated for show, or if the annoyance had been real. You almost broke, but a quick sigh and you shook the thought away. Now was not the time to break down. 

“Mrs. Rengoku it’s ok really. I’m ok in here.” Genya’s face was pinched, his expression a mix of worry and apprehension. You nodded at his words, standing and brushing your skirt off.

“I know. However, Senjuro needs a place to stay.” You pointed at the other teen, the boy jumping slightly in his seat. “The staff won’t go into your room. They trust you, they aren’t monitoring you.”

You shrugged, hands in the air, “So Senjuro can stay in there, undetected.” 

Both teens stared wide eyed. It took a moment, but then your words sunk in.

“OH SHIT!” Genya stood, pointing at you excitedly. “Mrs. Rengoku that’s so smart!” 

Senjuro concurred, beginning to cry again. You stepped over and hugged the boy. He was like a little lost puppy someone had kicked. Each time he cried your heart broke. 

Genya quickly packed his things, shoving everything into an oversized duffel bag. You took note of this, deciding that a shopping trip was needed. For both boys you realized as Senjuro confirmed he had nothing other than the clothes on his back.

And now for the hard part. You peeked around the entrance of the garage, looking for any movement in the Estate windows. You saw nothing and after a full five minutes of waiting, deemed it safe to move. Quickly beckoning the teens to follow, you dashed across the driveway. It was incredibly ungraceful and far from the manners expected of a lady in your station. Had Shinjuro seen you he might’ve popped a blood vessel in anger. 

But he wasn’t here, not yet at least.

Making it to the main door you slowly pulled it open, peeking in. The front hall was empty, but you could hear Ms. Gloria’s whining drifting from one of the hallways. You grimaced, pushing the boys inside and quickly following. Pausing again, you cocked your head, trying to gauge how close the event planner was. Too close, but still far enough that the main hall was out of view. Luckily there was no staff milling about either, you suspected most of them had fled to their quarters to avoid the snippish woman. You were tempted to slip your heels off, not wanting to make noise as you crossed the main hall. But if you were caught without them, it would add to Shinjuro’s annoyance and anger.

Carefully you tiptoed across the wide hall, wince at each creak and clack. Despite your best efforts the three of you made noise. The small sounds become large in the echoing space of the hall. 

“Mrs. Rengoku?” From down the hallway Ms. Gloria called out, the sound of heels clacking against the marble flooring. 

You rugged Genya and Senjuro forward, flapping at them frantically in a silent attempt to shoo them up the stairs. They complied, racing up a flight and ducking down. It confused you for a moment and then you realized, Ms. Gloria had made it to the main hall. From where she stood, they couldn’t be seen at that particular bend. Still, if she moved any closer, they might be. 

You stepped forward, nodding at the other woman curtly.

“Yes Ms. Gloria?” You tried to covertly block the stairs, a smile plastered on your face. She did not return the look, her mouth pinching sourly. 

“I would appreciate if you were more attentive to this event Mrs. Rengoku.” The woman sounded down right nasty. You refrained from asking her what the point was, Shinjuro had picked out everything. Instead you nodded politely, tilting your head and gesturing to her to continue.

“Your staff is ill equipped and no one seems to understand anything I’m saying.” 

The urge to roll your eyes overtook you and for a moment you stood frozen, trying not to give in. You noticed that in the various hall entrances, faces peeked out. The staff was here, watching silently. It irked you at first, Shinjuro’s need for control coming to mind. They could no doubt see the teens. Both boys had remained frozen, not wanting to make noise. Your heart sank and anger swirled through your mind. 

But then you took in their expressions. They looked exhausted and defeated. A few of the younger staff had red rimmed eyes like they had been crying. You felt guilty. All day you had been doing your best to avoid Ms. Gloria and as a result this new inexperienced staff had dealt with her abrasiveness. Your gaze shifted back to the other woman, her eyes rolling as she shook her head. 

“Were you rude?” Your question was like a bolt of electricity. Ms. Gloria gasped, her cheeks going red as she sputtered. Her hands came up, fluttering about wildly.

“WHAT?!” The question was shrieked.  The loud noise making everyone in the vicinity wince at just how shrill she was. You rolled your eyes this time, a huff of irritation leaving your lips. Ms. Gloria had spent enough time in the Estate in your opinion.

“I asked you if you were rude to my staff.” You crossed your arms, looking at the other woman sternly. Ms. Gloria for her part, avoided the question, her face no red with anger.

“I am one of the most sought after planners in this city!” She squawked, jabbing a finger in your direction. You glanced at the offending appendage, then back to her. She was slowly moving closer, puffed up like a bear trying to scare you. 

“And I’m the wife of one of the most successful business men in this city.” You shrugged, shaking your head at her. “What would happen if I talked about how abysmal I found your services?” 

Ms. Gloria gasped, one hand clutching her stomach as if you had gut punched her. It was a rather amusing sight. Her hair was becoming disheveled, the woman resembling a chicken more and more with each passing moment. 

You gestured to who you assumed was the newest butler. His face was unfamiliar, but he wore the appropriate attire for the position.

“Mr…?” You waited, smiling at the man’s surprise. He bowed, stepping from the side hall and to your side. As he did so you realized that he was incredibly tall, way taller than any of the other staff. That paired with his long hair and stern eyebrows made him an intimidating figure.

“Mr. Kyogai, Ma’am.” His voice was incredibly low and gruff. You nodded in response, gesturing without looking at the event planner.

“I think it's time for Ms. Gloria to leave.” Kyogai nodded at your words, bowing again before turning to the now very pale woman. She began sputtering again, throwing around words like ‘Mayor’ and ‘newspapers’. The words fell on deaf ears however, Kyogai pushing her towards the door. Ms. Gloria resisted, shrieking again annoyingly. Her heels scraped across the floor, her legs locked in an attempt to resist being forcibly removed. 

You watched as the head maid darted forward, tugging the doors open, allowing a final shove from Kyogai. Quickly the doors were closed again, cutting off the indignant yells of the woman. You all sighed as Kyogai clicked the locks into place. The main hall was filled with silence, a huge sense of relief filling all of you. 

“Oh fuck I was her ride.”

You turned, surprised, to look at Genya. He hung over the rail, eyebrows crinkled with worry. There was a snort from behind you, then a tiny chuckle and full on laughter burst from the head maid. From the side halls other staff began laughing as well. It was contagious and next thing you knew, you were doubled over in laughter, tears of mirth on your cheeks. 

Straightening you swiped a tear from your cheek, giggling as you caught your breath. 

“I can call a ride ma’am. If you like.” It was Kyogai, phone clutched in one large hand. You smiled, half tempted to tell him no. Instead you nodded, chuckling again.

“Thank you.” You gestured to those still hiding in the side halls. “All of you. For dealing with that insufferable woman.”  

Faces peeked back out, small smiles being shot your way. The head maid bowed, her eyes still dancing with amusement.  “Well once I realized she was a bitch we started fucking with her.”

You heard one of the younger staff gasp, chiding the woman for cursing. Waving it off you smiled, extending your hand.

“I’m Mrs. Rengoku. Though I suppose you already knew that.” She nodded, flashing you a wide grin as she took your hand. Her grip was strong and you felt your wrist pop as she shook it. “Susamaru, head maid.” 

It was like a gesture of approval, the rest of the staff trickling forward. You noticed immediately that Shinjuro had cut the staff by nearly 90 percent. Only 8 people stood before you, all of them nervous and other than Kyogai, relatively young. 

There were 4 women, Susamaru, Nezuko, Mukago and Nakime. You realized that it was Mukago you had spoken with earlier in the day. She looked nervous, twisting a lock of white hair around her finger. The 4 male employees consisted of Kyogai, Yahaba, Enmu and Rui who was a literal child. He was solemn as you stared at him, pale blue eyes unblinking.

“We won’t tell. By the way.” It was Susamaru, her tone serious as she nodded at the stairs. You blinked in confusion, then gasped, realizing that Senjuro was in full view.

“Old man Rengoku is a dickhead and then some.” 

There were gasps again at her harsh words, eyes darting to gauge your reaction. You merely smiled, shrugging in response, “I can’t say I disagree.”

This time the gasps were for you. Mukago looked beside herself with worry. You patted her shoulder in reassurance.

“The less Shinjuro knows, the happier I am.” You swallowed the rest of what you wanted to say. Without him they would get to stay on at the estate. If that’s what they wanted. But as long as he controlled everything, their jobs would always be on the line.

“Thank you, again.” This time you were awarded with smiles all around. They seemed more at ease with you. Or at least you hoped they were.

“Please, retire for the day. I will assist Senjuro with his room.” 

They all nodded in response, hurrying away from the main hall excitedly. You smiled as you overheard Rui exclaim he was going to look for spiders in the garden. 

Turning, you let out a massive sigh, climbing up the stairs to join Genya and Senjuro.

“That was intense.” Senjuro mumbled, rucking back on his heels as you made it to the first landing. You nodded, your pleasant expression slipping slightly, “It’ll get back to him. And it’ll be worse. But that is another day.”

The boy nodded at your words, his face a sea of sadness. He knew what you meant all too well. You patted his shoulder as you passed, continuing to the second floor. 

Making your way to the large guest suite, you pushed open the heavy doors and gestured for them to enter. They scurried in, Genya gasping at the sight.

The room was as you had last seen it, everything in its perfect place. The sheets were fresh, the room clean. Even though no one used it, like everything else it was part of the weekly cleaning done. 

Senjuro walked over to the one bed, flopping down face first. Genya followed, tossing his duffel bag on the other bed. He walked around, nodding at each appliance and decoration.

“This is fancy.” 

You hummed in response, staring worriedly at Senjuro. He was crying again, this time the sound was muffled by the large comforter. Genya shot you a small smile, giving you a thumbs up. You took it as he knew what to do. Softly telling them goodnight, you closed the door, exiting to the hallway. It was quiet, the sound of your heels echoing against the high ceilings. 

Not wanting to retire to your room just yet, you made your way to the tiny second kitchen. It was just a regular kitchen, but you preferred it. The wide space and many appliances of the main kitchen was too much.

“Oh! Sorry!” You blurted as you entered, realizing that Kyogai was sitting at the counter. He nodded at you, not taking his eyes from the book in front of him. You weren’t used to seeing staff relaxing in any part of the house. It was both nice and a tad odd. 

“I’ll be quick.” You scurried over to the electric kettle, turning it on as you grabbed a nearby mug.

“You aren’t bothering me.” Kyogai, turned a page, picking up a pen and scribbling something in the margain. The scratching of the pen filled the air, his hand fast as he quickly filled the margin.

Pulling a tea box down from the shelf, you fished out a tea bag. As you waited for the water, you stole glances from the corner of your eye at the large man. He was very unlike any of the other staff that had worked at the estate. Even with the butler attire on, you could tell he was incredibly buff. That combined with his height made you wonder how he had ever become a butler. His physic would be better suited for sports. 

“Forgive me for asking. But how did you become a butler?” You leaned back against the counter, nail clicking against the cold tile. Kyogai placed his pen down, his maroon eyes meeting yours. He seemed to debate speaking, large hands coming up to rest on top of his book.

“Shinjuro Rengoku is black listed by all of the reputable staffing services in the city.” 

His words didn’t surprise you. Between Shinjuro’s abusive language and his high fire rate, it made sense. The amount of times you had seen people leave in tears had always made you wonder how he ever got replacements. 

Kyogai let out a sigh, shifting on the stool as he spoke. “He happens to be in good standing with my employer, Muzan.” You nodded at the name, it was familiar. Muzan was some big banker, the man constantly in articles about being the richest man in the city. While you had never met him face to face, from what little you knew, the man seemed dull and arrogant. 

“So you work for Muzan then?” The water kettle clicked off as it finished boiling. You turned and quickly poured your cup of tea. From behind you, Kyogai chuckled wryly.

“That’s a nice way to put it. No, I took a loan from him.”

You frowned, turning back to him. That didn’t track. Taking a loan didn’t make one a butler. Kyogai seemed to know what you were thinking, the man shrugging at you. He ran a hand through his long hair, inspecting the ends as he spoke. 

“Read contracts before you sign them. All of us here signed and didn’t see the fine print.”

He leaned back, hands splayed in the air as if he were using a giant touch screen.

“If loan is not repaid within a 4 month span, the signee will become an employee of Muzan Inc. until said loan is paid off.”

He recited it dully, the words falling like lead. Kyogai had no doubt spent hours reading and re-reading that phrase. You would too if you had become an indentured servant unknowingly. 

“So here we are. Doing whatever jobs Muzan deems fit.” He gestured around him, “For now, estate staff.”

You nodded grimly, distaste welling in the back of your throat. It didn’t surprise you. One didn’t become the richest man by being nice. You thought of the small group, how timid they were today. What else had Muzan asked them to do.

“Wait!” You stood up straight, eyebrows pulling down in confusion, “Rui is like what, 8 at most? He legally can’t sign for a loan.”

Kyogai nodded at your response, sighing slowly. “Just because a person dies doesn’t mean their debt with Muzan disappears. Rui inherited his parents' debt.” 

The notion sickened you. Kyogai shared your look of disgust, shaking his head as he looked back at his book. You bade him goodnight, not wanting to disturb him further. As you headed to your room, tea in hand, your mind buzzed with thought. You felt sickened by this new revelation. Staff that wasn’t actually being paid. Shinjuro working with a man who had the morals of a Demon.

As sick as it made you, none of it surprised you. This was the world of wealth. Fake friends, fake family. Nothing was real to them except exorbitant luxuries and being ‘The Best’. 

You sank into the thick armchair that sat nearest your closet. As you sipped your tea, one foot tapped the carpet. Now instead of just getting yourself out, you had several people on your mind. Kyojuro and Senjuro deserved freedom and happiness. As did Genya and the rest of the staff.

Your foot tapping picked up pace as your thoughts did. Somehow, you would get all of them out of here. All of you would wriggle out from under the filthy heel of Shinjuro Rengoku. Or at least you would die trying.

You set the teacup down, leaning back in the chair to look up at the high ceilings, feeling the calm before the storm. 

6 days until the party.

Part 4

#reader insert #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny x y/n

[hinatastinygiant]

Chapter One

Casual Lovers

WARNING! SEXUAL CONTENT!

Pairing: Jean x Fem!Reader, Connie x Fem!Reader

next | in my head

ONE YEAR AGO ~ May 2

You show up at Jean's door one evening like you tend to do most nights after a long day to let off some steam. And, like always, he opens it with a smile to show you right in. You hug him as you step inside.

"How're you doing, Y/N?" he asks politely as you remove your shoes.

"About as well as I was two nights ago when you asked me that," you cheekily respond. "How about you?"

Jean scratches the back of his neck as he leads you towards his room. "My friends left a little while ago. We were just hanging out, but it feels like it's been a long day."

You nod in understanding of his comment. Then, when the two of you get to his room, he shuts the door behind you. With one hand beside your head and the other turning the lock, he leaves hardly any space for you between him and the door.

"I know it's only been two days but god, I missed you," he hums only a second before his lips reach yours. He must have just put on some kind of chapstick or something because his lips taste so sweet on your tongue.

You place your hands on his waist, pulling him closer to you. It's quite nice not needing to pretend like your relationship is more than it is. You and Jean meet quite often for as long as the two of you take to hook up before you leave again. That's not to say it's not good enough for you, but it's quite clear that's all he wants. Besides, there are no lies, no pretending to be anything else. 

It's always been typical of Jean to bring you straight to his room and get right to the point. It was what the two of you agreed upon and it never takes you long to give him what he wants.

"Don't flatter me," you smile just inches away from his lips. "I need you, Jean."

"Whatever you want, babe," he agrees, removing his shirt and exposing you to the set of well-defined abs that leave you practically drooling every time you see them, before he removes your own.

He then pulls you over to his bed where you're quickly tossed down. He disposes of the rest of all clothes in the way- his and yours- before climbing over you with his condom in hand. As he tears it open, you reach for his cock already strained, and slowly pump him in your hand.

One of his hands lands on the bed beside your head as he hovers over you, finding it a bit more difficult to keep himself composed than it typically is. "Shit, you're so impatient," he huffs.

"Looks like you are, too," you tease back.

Jean smirks down at you as he rolls the new condom down his length. He then leans down once more, grabbing your legs and pulling you closer to him. You chew the inside of your lip as you see what you're about to take in. He's quite big and every time you wonder how you managed the time before. But despite your qualms, he lines himself up and you keep yourself from moaning out as he pushes in.

Like always as he spreads you open, you feel as though you're being torn apart. Tears prick at your eyes as he forces himself in, but once he gives you a moment to breathe, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him close to you. 

You kiss him again as his hands travel up your sides. His thrusts grow rougher as he buries himself continuously deeper within you each time until you can feel the bed shaking beneath you. 

One of his hands makes its way slowly up to your throat. He applies pressure with his fingers on either side of your neck until your lips part and you gasp for air. "I'm so proud of you," he praises. "You always take it so well."

You can feel your walls grip around him tighter at his words. Your mouth, still open, tries to respond, but no words come out.

"I hope you keep letting me fuck you like this, Y/N. You do so good for me," he continues. Your nails dig into his sides; you can feel your orgasm begin to build. Eventually, your eyes roll back and your entire body shakes as you give your release around him.

Jean continues despite how you cry out to him over and over, a string of cursing mixed in with it as you gasp for air. "I'm not done with you yet, babe. You can give me one more, right?"

You look up at his handsome face despite how absolutely delirious you feel and can't do anything but moan in response. Taking that as a yes, Jean keeps going at his bed-breaking pace, causing you to think that he must have some kind of industrial bed from the way it never breaks.

"Shit, I can't take much more... Jean!" you cry out. However, his large hand around your throat cuts you off short before you can plead with him any longer. He's somehow fucking you even harder than before and your legs grip as tight as possible around him.

When your orgasm comes, he practically chokes you out until you can no longer see straight. Just as your climax finally hits, you can feel the heat intensify from within his condom. He then releases his grip and lets your breathing return to normal. 

You place your feet back down on the bed and Jean catches his breath beside you. You look over at him and see him smirk back at you like he always does when he's proud of himself for anything.

"Don't say anything cocky or I'll regret coming here," you smile with a shake of your head.

"I just love fucking you," he sighs, his smirk only growing across his lips.

"You say that every time," you laugh.

"And I mean it."

"That's 'cause we make a good team," you nod.

"Hm, I can definitely agree with that."

As you look at him and his smile, you can't help but feel chills. Somehow the asshole has embedded himself under your skin and you've got no idea how to get him out. You always hate this part, having to leave him when you only just got there. But it's not as though the two of you have feelings for each other and you do not have feelings for Jean Kirstein. You just don't want him to think you're using him for sex... even though you are... and he is, too...

"Well, that's exactly what I needed," he sighs as he sits up and reaches for his shirt.

"You've got something going on tonight?" you ask as you sit up beside him.

"Eh, kinda. I've got this girl I just met coming over but I don't think anything serious will come out of it so I wouldn't worry if I was you," he smiles like an idiot as he nudges you in the side and stands up.

"Oh," is the only thing you manage to respond with before a quick, "good luck," while reaching for the rest of your clothes. Knowing your place, you grab your things and give him a quick goodbye before walking out and heading home.

At least he was honest... It's like you said before, there are no secrets in your purely-sex relationship.

next | in my head

want to join the taglist? Click here for more

#jean x reader #jean x you #jean x y/n #connie x you #connie x reader #connie x y/n #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirsten x reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer x y/n #connie springer x you #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #hinatastinygiant #fanfiction series #fanfiction #fanfic #in my head

[primowishes]

He had watched her picking up seashells with some of the local children by the beach, a faint smile tugging on his lips as they laughed and splashed water at each other. It was a gentle scene, so unlike what he had been mired in that it felt at the same time calming and deeply foreign.

Still, after a while the sun begins lowering on the horizon and the children take their hauls home, no doubt going to chatter excitedly about their day at the beach and the things they had brought back. Yet even with only Bonanus remaining silhouetted in the fading light, he hesitated to approach…

Even so, he had migrated from his spot atop the cliff to the shade of a lonesome tree surviving on that edge where fertile soil became sand, and hanging on against all odds. What are you doing? The question burned in his throat but remained silent, not daring to speak and break what felt like such a precious and fragile moment.

If only such things could be bottled, to be cherished and looked upon in fondness again later, a physical representation… || Xiao || You have to make him a seashell necklace now Bonanus, it's law xD Guili Assembly Xiao is so soft and conflicted dhfjksl

As the children returned home, Bonanus watched over their paths 'till her sight reached them no longer. She remained in the water despite the cooling evening, her stance wide and strong against the gentle push of waves that rolled past her calves, occasionally just high enough for the tips of her claws, one arm handing loosely at her side, to cut through the surface.

Her cheeks faintly ached from the afternoons smiles and laughter. A contented exhaustion filled her chest; these little ones would grow up in their happy childhoods, a peace that she defended with the very claws that dug shells from the sand with them, and splashed water to their shrieks of joy. These children, who had so little fear of even the weapons of Bonanus' arms, she wished to protect.

Bonanus noted when Xiao came closer. He lingered at the closest tree, just shy of the sandline, coming no closer despite how the children had already long gone. Had he been watching over their play the entire time? She smiled fondly in his direction, though the backlighting and the descending darkness may obscure her expression from him.

She dragged her feet along the sandy floor, and knelt when the waves no longer touched the sand. There she'd kept her own small pile of shells. The small, delicate things fascinated her, a protection so easily crushed by her fist, but once home to an ocean creature. And they were beautiful.

One of the children had left behind a craft kit--he had shown the other kids and her how he'd gently drilled a hole into it, and threaded the string through. Most of the kids hadn't the patience for it; too much pressure, and the shell shattered, depleting their hauls. Bonanus, too, found difficulty in it. Her hands were formed to maim and tear apart her enemies, not for such delicate work.

Still, she made one last attempt, sifting through her pile for the best clamshell. She bit her lip, concentrated on the barest pressure of her index finger at the end of it, twisting as she gradually wore away the shell, until she'd bored the hole to the other side. It was bigger than the nail had done when the child made his necklace, but she accepted it as an inevitable feature of her own work. She chose the thin cording, a pretty blue-green that suited her brother--both in-arms and in bonds--the best.

Concealing it between clasped hands, Bonanus met him where he was at, rather than beckoning him to her.

"Close your eyes, I've got something for you," she said, no greeting or ceremony to it. She barely even waited for him to obey or not, too impatient as she parted her hands. Her thumbs hooked through the cording on each side, she carefully placed it around his neck.

"Ta-da!" A singsong tone as her hands retreated, fingers splayed in the air to frame her proud smile. She only wished it could better compare in quality the shell headpiece that connected her horns, but Bonanus had not the ability to make such a thing. "Not bad, right? Now we match!"

@worldly-diversity

#worldlydiversity #m: bonanus #them... #bonanus v; early days #i keep forgetting to tag verses for all my muses ldksanflwef

[house-of-slayterr]

Flaysthings and I have been talking about this recently and I wanted to share it with you since I thought you'd like it.. sorry if you don't (っ.❛ ᴗ ❛.)っ

Flare headcanoned that y/n has once a kid/student and had a relationship like tai lung and shifu (from Kung Fu panda). So the student goes rouge like tai lung did in the movie, and while y/n was stronger than him, she couldn't do it mentally so she didn't. Victor had to do it (which resulted with him getting a few broken ribs ouch). They "put him down", and neither wanted to go through the same thing again. Which is why y/n was very wary of Maggie and probs Basil at first, and Victor wanted to kill Maggie cause he didn't want y/n to go through the same heartbreak again (we love Victor that actually cares).

I asked permission from Flare to share this to you :)

Tag: @keffirinne @flaysthings

Anon I must say, it has been ages since I thought about Kung Fu Panda. Not gonna lie, I had to look up the plot again because I forget who half of the characters were. So that was fun!

I must say, I love the angst. I forgot how dark children's movies could get away with being. I adore the idea of Y/N being a mom, but as she is @howl-fantasies Character and not mine, I'm not sure it's my call to make this canon or not. But if I am allowed to, I think it could be interesting if it was her blood child. I think it would have happened when she was a teenager. I imagine it wasn't something she was proud of, she probably ran away from home and gave birth to the child by herself in a dark alley somewhere. She probably contemplated just leaving the thing behind a trash can to either die or be discovered by someone else.

But I think when she looked at its eyes, she'd break. She's not as heartless as she likes to make people believe. I headcanon that Y/N wasn't actually born and raised in Gotham. I think when she gave birth, she never looked back, leaving her home completely out of fear of being disowned. She'd rather remove herself than go through the pain of someone making that choice for her. This is why nobody knows of her family in Gotham, it's just her. She somehow stumbled upon Gotham and made it her home with her child.

She built herself up from the ground up. Similar to Selena Kyle, she stole things like food and watches to get stuff for her and her child. That's where her morality started slipping. She quickly realised it was killed or be killed, and dying wasn't an option. She moved up from petty crime to more organised endeavours. Quickly gaining the interest of Carmine Falcone. His heart ached for the young mother, and he took her in. Y/N may have convinced herself she works better alone, but she does her best when she has "family" at her side, to fight for, and to fight with her.

Carmine watched as both she and the child grew, and watched the kid grow more cold and distant. When the betrayal hit, both parties were shocked. The child was like a grandkid to him. Victor obviously grew his obsession with her at this time, as they were both under Carmine's thumb. Carmine knew it would break her heart, so he convinced Victor to kill the child before they brought everyone down with them. Victor did as he was told, not feeling nearly as attached to the child, kind of jealous that they were stealing Y/N's attention away from him.

Y/N hated him at first when she found out what he did. This would be the catalyst, the thing that closes off her heart. She still believes in respect and honour for her "family" but she doesn't let it show on the outside. If she lets anyone know she cares, she'll get hurt again. Her obsession with Victor grows in return. She understands without him she'd fall apart and the darkness would consume her. Despite his sadistic and twisted nature, he is light of heart. He doesn't feel things as deeply as she does, which is why she clings to him. She's desperate to be numb, and he's desperate to be loved by her.

I actually think Y/N met Basil first, despite me introducing him quote recently in the story, this would make the most sense. She met him on one of her trips out of Gotham, one of the rare times she drops her Facade. A few places know of the Great Y/N, Carmine Falcone's right-hand woman, but when she can go where somewhere she's not known, she jumps t the chance. There she just gets to be that carefree little girl she once was, there are no expectations. Get in, get out, don't get caught. That's the only objective.

I think Basil spots her, he has a habit of observing the humans. Like his older sister Kara, he's still a little unsure about earth customs. But he did not receive Kara's heart or naivety. Despite them, both seeing the same evils of the world, Kara remains optimistic, while Basil is a realist. He spots her permission, he can see the determination in her stride, yet can also she's hiding something. He approaches, gently however, he's not dumb enough to startle her.

That's when they form their alliance. He wants to get rid of the person she's been sent to kill. Basil believes in killing for the greater good, if someone is a bigger threat they must be eliminated. But he never acted on it before, out of fear of his sister discovering his darker side. Y/N is weary of him at first, but she sees something in him that she saw in younger victor. Since Vic holds a special place in her heart, she is intrigued. Basil makes the kill shot, and that's when she knows he has potential.

Y/N escapes to National City when she needs to think. To keep up appearances, she has met Kara, Alex and Lena. Obviously, she takes the most liking to Lena, and can't wait to see her fall to the dark side. She slowly plants the seed in her head upon each visit. She and Basil grow closer, unbeknownst to the Gothamites. even victor and Carmine don't know the real reason she loves National city so much. When Basil grows bored of playing nice and following his sister's rules, he decides he needs a change and moves to Gotham. This is where my story begins.

We all know the story of how Maggie and Y/N met, that;s what started this whole thing. Basil knows of Maggie, long before Maggie knows about him. Y/N talks about her often and asks for Bail's advice on certain things. Despite him being a little younger than Maggie, he is very wise. He observes her from afar, interesting in Y/N's new protege, and curious if she can be trusted. He knows of the whole Wendle situation, and Y/N told him about Maggie's dissociative episodes. Basil is cautious of this, not like he actively distrusts Maggie, but he's not even certain she can trust herself. She's not a reliable narrator.

Basil is very proactive in his methods of protecting Y/N, he'd do the same for her as he would for Kara and Alex. He actually meets Oliver and Company, before he ever meets Maggie in person. Victor and Y/n and even Jim Gordon, are all ok with not knowing much about Maggie's past. They care more about who she is now than who he might have been then. They have no explicit reason to distrust her or pry beyond the normal bounds. But Basil knows the past is what defines your present, you can't make change without a starting point.

That's why it takes him so long to get to Gotham. For nearly half a year, he "Grew close" to Oliver and his team. He studied them, looking for any key factors in Maggie's childhood. He's good at modelling his personality to fit the mission. He stayed closest to Thea, knowing she'd be easier to break. Oliver is too guarded to let things slip by accident. I even think Thea and Basil dated for a while. Which is not something he will willingly tell Maggie because she would lose her shit. Nobody touches her baby sister.

He discovered the secret to her past with Barton Mathis, The Dollmaker. He understands Maggie better than anyone else. But he won't share this information flat out with Y/N, not unless she asks, or it becomes relevant. With Maggie not fully understanding her own past, it could be triggering if anyone else knows. They could use this information against her. Every time she dissociates, she loses a part of herself or at least the version of her that exists now. She slowly becomes corrupted, turning back into the scared little girl who would do anything to survive.

That makes her dangerous. She's highly suggestible and open to hypnosis, which is why Basil warns Y/N to try to keep her as far away from Jervis Tetch as possible. Under Jervis's control, she could become volatile, and he would have the ability to make her shut off her emotions. Not only would this make her unpredictable, and liable to attack those she should care about, but she would also be unable to feel physical pain as well. Which would make her unstoppable, and willing to sacrifice her own health for the objective. Just like Molly became Magnolia under the Dollmaker's guidance, she could become Alice, under Jervis's.

Maggie's only redeeming grace in Gotham is her relationships with Jim, Harvey, Bruce and Alfred. Of course, Thea and Oliver are always in the back of her head, like the angels on her shoulders. But she would fall off the depend if these four didn't reel her back. They are the voices of reason. Maggie is constantly torn between who she should attempt to please. It would be so much easier to just stop trying and let everyone hate her. But she's far too stubborn for that. So she plays both fields, not necessarily lying to either side. She wants to do "Good" but she also would kill if the situation called for it. She'd sooner sacrifice herself for those she loved than ever let them get hurt.

I hope this gives a little more insight into the characters. I sometimes forget you guys can't see them how I do unless I write down every thought. So thank you for the idea Anon. I'm just so glad you all adore these characters as much sI do. it means so much to me that I could write something that somebody could create their own headcanons about <3

#Anon <3 #magnolia blossom #Maggie headcannons #Fangs headcannons #gotham oc #gotham #maggie #gotham imagine #Basil Zor El #Basil #Victor Zsasz #Y/N Zsasz

[druidgroves]

👨‍👨‍👦🥊🌵🐍 for marisol and 🍁❤️🍿🎞 for florence!!

thank u for sending some in !!! <333 this got incredibly long bc i cant stop rambling lmao

fallout oc ask meme

MARISOL ESTRADA - COURIER SIX

👨‍👨‍👦 FAMILY - what is their family like? what is their relationship to their family? do they have any siblings?

Marisol only really had her older brother, Santiago. She knows they had parents at one point, but she doesn't remember much about them at all. She thinks she remembers what her mother looks like & can only confirm so much through the stories Santiago has told her.

After their parent's deaths, Santiago moved them around a bunch. Eventually they settled in a small town near a Desert Ranger station. When Marisol was 9, her brother joined up with them & finally told her about the fate of their parents.

Their father, Leonardo, was once apart of the Desert Rangers, fighting against slavers in the wasteland, while their mother, Renata, was apart of the Followers of the Apocalypse as a doctor. Leonardo died in the line of duty & a few months later Renata was killed trying to help people outside of the Boneyard where they had originally lived.

After joining the Rangers, Santiago didn't get to visit as much, leaving Marisol in the care of his then-girlfriend. Until Marisol was old enough to look out for herself, Santiago had a habit of charming people both into his bed & into looking after Marisol. She has many memories of being cared after by his various partners (all vetted by her brother before Marisol even met them). Still, Marisol revered her older brother (& still does). She doesn't hold his prolonged absences against him because every time he did get to visit, it was all the more sweeter for it (absence makes the heart grow fonder & all of that).

Santiago ended up leaving the Rangers after the Ranger Unification Treaty, not wanting to be beholden to the NCR. When Marisol was 19, she signed up to be a Courier for the Mojave Express. While it was never for any great reasons, the moving around she & her brother did when she was a kid made her fall in love with traveling, & being a Courier seemed to suit her just fine.

Present day, the two still keep in contact. Santiago ended up settling down in Nipton years before the Legion massacred it; however, when the Legion did arrive, Santiago was already on his way to New Vegas to visit a friend. When Marisol came upon the town, intent on visiting him on her way to Novac, she was incredibly upset & panicked to discover the state of the town. She searched every house, building, & trailer & found no trace of him. She hoped against everything that he had gotten out somehow, & was relieved beyond words to find him in New Vegas when she eventually made her way there.

🥊 BOXING GLOVE - what is their go-to fighting style (hand-to-hand, short range, long range, etc)?

Marisol prefers to talk her way out of fights or sneak past them entirely. She's a sharpshooter & can work just about any gun you give her (Santiago taught her how to shoot & she practiced frequently in his absence in an attempt to impress him). However, her primary weapon right now is a standard caravan rifle! This may change as I play the game more, but she generally tries to avoid close range fights.

🐍 SNAKE - have they ever been stabbed in the back or stabbed anyone else in the back?

I haven't played enough of the game for any definitive answers (I know there's some shit with Ulysses but I don't understand it yet), but I don't think she'd do it intentionally! Unless the person was a huge dick to her.

🌵 CACTUS - what is a sore subject for them?

Despite her & Santiago having a good relationship, his absences (+ their parent's deaths) did inspire a small case of abandonment issues! She tends to get stressed out & antsy when she feels like she's being left behind or left out, especially if she's being left by someone she cares about.

FLORENCE "FLORA" GALLAGHER - LONE WANDERER

🍁 MAPLE LEAF - do they have a favorite season? what is it and why?

After living out in the wasteland for a while, Flora grew to really enjoy summer. She liked the feeling of the sun on her skin & how warm everything felt compared to the coldness of Vault 101. I think she suffers from seasonal affective disorder after leaving the vault due to the colder seasons having 1) less sun & 2) feeling too familiar to the vault, leading her into a darker state of mind.

❤️ RED HEART- are they easy to love? (if not) what makes them so difficult?

She doesn't think she is to be honest, especially during her 20s. She had so much happen to her in such a short time that she really felt like she was just a complete burden to everyone even though that was the furthest thing from the truth. I actually think her & Butch break up for a long time because Flora feels like she just. can't handle any sort of relationship in her current state. They reconnect towards the end of their 20s & Flora is doing so much better & while she hasn't fully healed, she's doing leagues better than she was & doesn't actively want to die.

🍿 POPCORN - do they like being the center of attention or more in the shadows?

She despises being the center of attention, it makes her anxious, but she doesn't like being sidelined to the shadows like she isn't there either. She just prefers to be acknowledged.

🎞 FILM - what is their greatest / happiest memory?

Happiest memory is definitely when she got her G.O.A.T results & found out she'd be following in her dad's footsteps as a doctor. She loved her dad more than anything & she'd never felt closer to him than in that moment. She remembers him telling her how proud of her he was & she keeps that memory real close to her heart.

#aartyom #thank u again !!!! #asks #ch: marisol estrada #ch: santiago estrada #tagged him 2 bc he's here as well. #ch: florence gallagher #also ! this post goes against some of the stuff i put in another post abt mari & santi so ignore that old post. this is the canon.

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli #childe #albedo #kazuha #kazuha kaedehara #genshin #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact childe #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #nya writes

[kpoptrashlord-007]

Hands Free;; HJS

Word Count;; 1.5k

Genre;; Smut

Pairing;; Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Summary;;

Compromise is essential in all relationships. If your boyfriend wants to try controlling your body for the night, you’ll humour him… with a little caveat. After all, challenges are what make life fun.

Warnings;;

Voyeurism?, Slight sub/dom dynamics (reader is on the dominant side, Han is on the sub side) but! there is slight role reversal as well, no touching between the two, teasing and putting on a show, masturbation, Jisung watches and gets off from it. All consensual.

Notes;;

I may or may not be doing Kinktober and this may or may not be the first entry. The kink? uhh... no touching? Is that a thing?

Kinktober 2021 Masterlist​

Day One || No Touching

Main Masterlist || SKZ Masterlist

   “Take the robe off.”

   You offered him a sweet smile before complying, the silk slipping down the length of your body with little resistance. Despite the coolness of the room, your body burned hot in anticipation. Somewhere in the corner of your mind you thought you should play coy. You were, after all, standing before him so bare and vulnerable, and when the tables were turned, he would at least blush. The reverence that lit up his eyes and poured outward onto his soft, boyish face assuaged your nerves, however.

   Like a child in a candy store, he gazed upon every inch of your body with wonder and deference. That was all fine and lovely but what you yearned for was darker, and when you saw it, you quivered. There was no denying the hunger that grew beneath his surface, breaching his calm exterior in the form of a bitten lip or an exaggerated gulp.

   “Sit on the edge of the bed.”

   Once more you did as he commanded. With a deep breath, you took a step backward. Then another. And another. One foot at a time, you kept going until your legs hit the plush duvet. His eyes locked onto your breasts and their gentle jiggle as you lowered yourself onto the bed. Your gaze never left his face. He was alluring and magnetic and he possessed a warmth one could get lost in. Had it been any other night, you would have eaten him up right then and there.

   “Now spread your legs.”

   Heat tinged your cheeks but you obeyed. Your feet crawled apart, the carpet underfoot tickling your toes. Though near imperceptible, you could hear his shaky, eager inhales. His tongue licked along his drying lips and he eyed the growing gap between your thighs. Mouth agape, you knew he was salivating, hungry to taste your cunt but bound to his spot.

   As such you paced yourself. Knowing that you could do as he asked but in your own time, you forced him to wait and instead made a show of it. The second a cool breeze caressed your cunt, you pretended to shiver, closing your legs ever so slightly to hinder his view. For the first time that night his lips pressed together in a firm frown. Breaking his attention away from his treat, he offered you a raised eyebrow with a simple message: frustration.

   This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down; you were being difficult, but he expected nothing less.

   “Spread your legs.” You did what you were told but not without a pout - you wanted to have more fun before he had his. “All the way. I want to see.”

   All hints of playfulness dropped from your face. Lips falling into their natural resting place, you became a blank slate. He wanted to push your limits, to break you down and tame you. You knew this because that's what you would do. His little game had no effect on you, though. You weren't the type to give in - it wasn't your style. Submitting just wasn’t who you were. So you’d give him what he wanted, and then so much more.

   It was, after all, his treat.

   Lifting your foot off the pristine carpet, you straightened your leg and pointed your toes toward where Jisung watched with bated breath. With all the grace you could muster, you glided your right leg onto the bed until it lay outstretched beside you before doing the same with the left. Both of your legs made a perfect line near the bed’s edge. It was uncomfortable and stretched muscles you hadn’t utilised in a hot minute, but the haze invading Jisung’s once tranquil eyes made it worth the effort. It wasn’t elegant or extravagant but that’s what made it tempting - the act was raw and carnal.

   The only heat that lingered on your skin now came from your palms as they ran along your hips. Like a spider, your fingers crawled down the crease of your thigh until they reached your pussy. Your touch was tentative, almost experimental as you massaged your clit. A moan crept up your throat and with every circle you pressed against the small bud, the higher it climbed until the silence of the room was replaced with your gentle whimpers. Need burdened the sounds, transforming them from wispy breaths to guttural growls.

   Imagining Jisung teasing your entrance, collecting your juices as he slid his throbbing dick along your cunt while you writhed beneath him was enough to kick your libido into overdrive. Desire thrummed outward from your core. Fire ignited your blood and a fever befell your mind, your exhalations turning into pants. Your hips lifted to meet the thought of his cock pushing inside your squelching walls. He’d pound into you relentlessly, desperate to have all of you sans the teasing, and that little precious look of absolute determination, his unrelenting drive to please, had you clenching around nothing.

   He groaned when you parted your lips to give him a better view of how soaked you were despite having not been touched. “Fuck, you’re killing me.”

   “Jisung, tell me what to do,” you whimpered, middle finger sinking deep into your cunt.

   “Add another finger, baby, like I would, a-and-” he choked as he watched your index finger slip inside with ease, your body more than ready for what it truly craved: his cock. “And palm your clit while you do it.”

   Pumping the two fingers inside your pussy with urgent need, your pace was fast and sloppy. You lowered your palm until it hovered over your clit then jutted your hips to chase the additional sensation, forcing yourself to indulge in every ounce of pleasure. Jittery from the jolts that shocked your core, you threw your head back. Dancing flames from the candles’ perched on top of the bedside table caught your eye. Their orange glow did indeed add sensual ambiance just as Jisung said they would, you could no longer refute it. It brought a smile to the edge of your lips before you plunged yourself into darkness.

   With closed eyes, your other senses blazed brighter. Every hitch in Jisung’s breath sounded close enough to send shivers down your spine. Substituting the feeling of your own fingers with the well-known memory of his, sparks electrified the room. Static lifted the hairs on your arm. A sheen of sweat covered your form in a futile attempt to cool your raging desire. Mind racing around the mere idea of him, your orgasm bubbled within your core like a kettle left atop a heated stove.

   “God, you’re perfect.” His voice was a hoarse whisper and had you not been preoccupied, you might have felt pity for your little Jisung. “You really are so, so perfect. Wanna t-touch you s’bad.”

   Your orgasm fast approached and your body rocked, waves of euphoria overwhelming you. Ignoring the ache building within your thighs from the constant spread of your legs, you chased your high. Slippery from how turned on you were, your cunt gushed whilst also sucking your fingers in further. Wet sounds filled the room. Most days it was a noise you hated, but there was something delectable about it now that you knew just how much power it held over Jisung. Weak to the flesh, all he could do was watch in awe as you unraveled in front of him.

   He strained against the cuffs that bound him to the chair, but your focus wasn’t on his subconscious struggling. Zeroing in on his lap, your pussy tightened at the sight. Hard and begging to be set loose from its material prison was his cock. The outline of it was evident beneath his boxer briefs, as was the dark spot from his precum. Like a mantra he dedicated his soul to, words poured from his lips without end, the same variation of pleading on repeat - ‘Cum, please, fuck, cum for me.'

   And while fingerfucking your cunt while your boyfriend became a babbling mess before you was pleasurable enough, what pushed you over the edge was the spot on his briefs that started to grow as the cotton absorbed more and more of his salty load. By the sight of you alone and without a single touch, he had cum.

   Your ego got the best of you and you spasmed around your fingers, your cunt swallowing them deeper. Pressing against your g-spot only exacerbated the sensation. Speckles of white clouded your vision. Your hearing dulled. The world slowed, allowing you to elicit every last ounce of bliss before it sped up to account for the missing time.

   “That…” he trailed off, catching his breath as you did the same.

   “Yeah.”

   “Amazing. Worth the celibacy."

   You chuckled and sent a wink in his direction before standing and stretching your legs. Jisung continued to mumble, his thoughts running faster than his mouth could produce them. Grabbing the key to his handcuffs and a glass of water, you crossed the room and set his wrists free. Without missing a beat, his hands traced the curves of your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You handed him the water and watched as he gulped it down, thirstier than either of you realised you’d be.

   “Good?” You asked and upon his eager nod, you continued, “Up for the feather tickler?”

   Jisung grinned. “Whoever cums first buys dinner.”

   “Sounds like you're setting yourself up for failure, love… but you're on."

   – ♡ –  If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

#jisung x reader #jisung smut #kpop smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids #han jisung #han jisung smut #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop scenarios #skz smut #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hard hours #skz hard hours #kpop hard hours #stray kids fanfic #kpop oneshot #kpop fanfic #jisung fanfic #jisung oneshot #kpoptrashlord-007 #han x reader

[strawbabysimp]

Cold || Dom!Kagami x Reader

Genre: Smut

Category: Dom!Kagami x Fem!Sub!Reader

Warning(s): Knee Grinding, Pet Names, Praise, Size Kink, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex

Request(s): "Can you make a heavy smut with kagami taiga"

A/N: I wasn't sure if you wanted sub or dom but I promised some more dom!character content so hehe :)))

You stepped out of the gym alongside your boyfriend, the sky painted in pinks and purples as a sign of the time. Practice had gone late for the team and while you may have simply sat down and watched, offering the occasional comment or hanging out with the others during a break, you found yourself eager to go home. You knew Kagami could spend a few more hours on the court but he always did love to push himself and the boys didn't want to spend their Friday night running drills no matter how much they enjoyed the sport.

You walked side by side, his hand making its way into yours as you savored the moments before you two had to go your separate ways. You looked up at him and gave a small smile, the two-toned-headed boy returning one of his own albeit a bit more tired looking. He was peering down at you fondly when his eyes widened, tugging your hand behind him as he swerved off to the side. You were confused by his panicked expression but followed along nonetheless, his rapid footsteps soon accompanied by the softer, albeit growing, sound of droplets hitting the pavement.

Despite his efforts, by the time you and Kagami had reached shelter, you both had gotten your fair share of the rain's wrath. The jacket that he had thrown on upon leaving the school grounds was held over your head, keeping you safe from the downpour with the help of Taiga holding you close to him. Black and red strands were stuck to his forehead, hair losing shape as the moisture weighed it down against his scalp. You looked out at the street to see the water flowing past and your concerned expression was met with a wide smirk from the Seirin player.

"I don't think you're gonna make it home today, Y/N."

You were about to voice your annoyance at his smug look but as the wind began to blow the rain in your direction, you conceded. You didn't plan on walking home in this weather or to the station to be surrounded by unpleasant warmth from wet bodies.

Taiga's place it was.

~~~

Stepping into the apartment was like walking past the gates of Heaven after stumbling up the pearly white stairs. A content sigh left your mouth as your boyfriend locked the door behind you, quickly leaving you to your own devices, eager to rid himself of the clothes sticking to his skin. You may have been protected from the clouds' overflow but he hadn't been so lucky. You were grateful for his sacrifice though and made your way over to the kitchen to show him your thanks, having been made comfortable in the environment long ago. Your family spared you the trouble of having to call to tell them the situation, saying they were stuck out of the house because of the weather as well, and to just update them on the situation later.

Your boyfriend stepped out of the shower once the ramen water began boiling, his footsteps giving away his presence as your back was turned to him. You were about to add the noodles when his fingers curled around your wrist, bringing your hand down to the counter as he silenced the water. His other hand came to rest on your hip, rubbing small circles into the skin through fabric before he made his way beneath your shirt to pull you back against him.

"Taiga," you spoke slowly, "what are you doing?"

His response was a small chuckle, his chest sending vibrations across your back as he nudged forward once again. "Just warming you up," he said matter-of-factly, "I used up all the hot water and I can't have you catching a cold." You could feel the hardness against your ass and as your gaze traveled up his forearm to get a better look at the man pressed against you you realized he didn't bother to put on any clothes, a towel being the only thing preserving his rapidly fading decency.

A shiver ran up your spine at the contact and both of his arms came to wrap around your waist, turning you around to face him as he mocked your body's reaction. "See? You are cold." His cock pressed against you through the layers and he couldn't help but sigh against the top of your head when he ground himself against you.

He continued to step forward, guiding you away from the bowls you had laid out and to the other counter. Your back pressed painfully against the hard surface but the way his knee came to slot between your legs and press against your core quickly directed your attention elsewhere.

His fingers gripped your chin as his eyes stared down at the way his thumb massaged your lip, mesmerized by the sight. Your breath stuttered and his eyes gleamed victorious, knowing he had won you over. "Still cold?" Kagami whispered against your ear, your soft whines continuing as you nodded against his hand. His knee never stopped its teasing motions and he allowed your eyes to shut as you basked in the pleasure it provided.

As your noises became louder and the friction became somewhat painful, he pulled away, prompting a drawn-out sound of disappointment from your throat. Your eyes opened slightly to see what your boyfriend was doing but widened as he lifted you up to gaze down at him. Your thighs moved to wrap around his waist but he wasn't done yet and with a humorous "Alley-oop" he dropped you down onto the counter and situated himself between your legs, towel dropping in the process. His leg kicked the item away, having no more use for it, and he gave a smug look as you dragged your gaze up from the erection currently resting against his stomach.

"Too many clothes," he huffed. His fingers made quick work of your pants, throwing them to the side to join the previously discarded towel and quickly moving on to your top. You helped him rid your body of its clothes, his rough palms gliding across your skin appreciatively as he removed the final pieces. Your back was cold against the counter as you lied back, the man between your thighs now hovering over you.

"So cold," Kagami voiced as he rubbed his cock between your folds, the heat seeping into his shaft despite the words. He soon stretches you around the tip, allowing you to adjust to this size as he makes a strangled noise from the lack of motion. His palm moves to push against where his cock will soon be, slowly sliding into you while appreciating the way he presses against his own hand through your flesh.

"You're taking me in so nice. You should be thankful I'm willing to warm you up like this, keep you safe with my cock. I can feel you heating up with every thrust."

Tears fill your eyes, the warmth in your chest growing as he begins to fuck into you, wetness spilling from your core and coating his shaft more and more with every jerk of his hips. You try to express your gratitude for filling you up with his warmth so eagerly but the words of thanks fail to leave your mouth, pleasured cries taking their place as Kagami refuses to have mercy on your pathetic state.

The knowledge your walls must be barely accommodating his size dulls out the pain from his thrusts, the thought repeating in your head lulling you into a blissful state. At that moment all you had to focus on was allowing him to milk his cock with your insides and to enjoy your own steadily approaching orgasm.

Whimpers rose out of you, vocal cords giving away just how fucked out you were even if you couldn't quite work yourself up to actual words. Kagami's moans echoed off the walls, mixing with the sound of skin against skin. His hips increased their pace and the warmth in your core spread higher and higher until it eventually took over everything.

You had a vague recollection of being filled, your insides coated in white as your inner muscles spasmed in ecstasy. His forehead found yours as he lifted your limp body to sit upright, his fingertips running along your spine as he smiled with shut eyes.

"You warm enough yet?"

You shook your head with a soft chuckle.

#Smut #Kagami #Kagami Smut #Kagami x Reader #Dom!Kagami #Dom Kagami #Kuroko's Basketball #KNB #Anime #Kagami Taiga

[nejiraez]

one day, you all will know true peace when i stop making bakugou the default character to the maladaptive daydreamz i write. but until then...

get well soon! | bakugou katsuki

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader // 2.9k words

genre: fluff — contains spoilers from mha chap 298; includes kissing, thats it!

summary: free bakugou until it’s backwards!!! but until then, he appreciates having your presence around as he takes the time to properly heal.

the way i haven’t written a full fic since oct </3... but i needed to post this b4 aquarius season ends tmrrw...

He’s never had to stay this long in a hospital before.

Sure, there were minor check-ins that he had to tend to at the clinics every so often from the injuries he’s received, but he never had to stay more than a few days at hand.

“Only a couple more days until you’re discharged…” 

The sound of your voice prompts Bakugou to shift his gaze away from the TV screen stationed at the corner of his hospital room to focus his sights on you. Deep shades of scarlet watch as your hands absent-mindedly pick at the white petals from the bouquet that his mother had gifted him. 

Carnations, a ‘get well soon’ present that would prompt him back to wellness. They were becoming quite the eyesore. The stems were beginning to droop and dull in colour with how poorly maintained they had been kept for the past week.

“That must be exciting for you, yeah?”

Bakugou shrugs, but he’s quick to regret his slight movement due to the small wince that follows shortly after. Despite being placed in the hospital for a little over a week now, a great mass of Bakugou’s body still aches. “It’s whatever,” he mutters, dismissing the subject matter altogether, “I’ll be back to doing the same crap over again anyway, so it’s nothing special.”

Closing your eyes, you sink yourself further down into your seat near his bedside and sigh. The windows a few steps away from Bakugou’s left allow for the sun’s late afternoon glow to beam into his room. You’ve sat here with him for the past two hours and a half from when you first came.

“You’re so pessimistic, you know that?” You announce, resting your arms against the bed’s side rails, which promote access to you, propping your cheek onto your hands with your face turned towards Bakugou. “Always thinking so negatively.”

Choosing not to respond to your comment, Bakugou soaks in the brief silence shared within the confines of his room.

For the past few days, other than his immediate family, who was relentless about visiting him as much as they could- save for the days where work would pull them away- your regular visits were something that became apart of Bakugou’s daily schedule. 

Wake up. Eat whatever shitty food the kitchen staff has to offer for the day. Wait through numerous check-ups and appointments, while the nurses examine the vital state of his internal organs. And then, he has a bit of free time to himself before either you or any visitor arrives at Hosu General hospital.

“I’m just telling it as it is.”

Bakugou would be lying if he said that he didn’t look forward to your visits.

Like Pavlov’s law, he’s grown conditioned upon awaiting your arrival every day, always finding himself sitting a bit straighter in his bed whenever 15:00 rolled around on the clock. 

Growing bored with not much to do, Bakugou allows his eyes to wander the room, skimming each object with little to no thought before his eyes would drop down on your form once again. With your eyes still closed, Bakugou takes this chance to absorb your presence before him fully. Watching the tiny twitches that would happen every now and then on your face out of curiosity.

The amount of fear and dread that washed over you the moment you caught news of how Bakugou jumped in front of his childhood friend, Midoriya, to spare his life, in turn, putting his own on the line had you aching to the bone. 

You were scared and couldn’t bring yourself to the thought that you would lose him, and there wasn’t much that you could do about it since you and a few others were far from where the main fight had gone down.

Regardless of whether Bakugou had a chance of waking up or not, you were still adamant about swinging by his hospital room as often as you could until the second day where he miraculously woke up. And caused an uproar as he did. He had to be restrained as he tried to check up on the others’ wellbeing as he did so.

To be placed inside of a room alone, with no one around to tell him what the fuck exactly went on, Bakugou was on edge. Hands down, that day would take the cake as being the most overwhelming experience he has had at his time here. Where were was Deku, for starters? And where did you disappear off to? 

He really didn’t deserve you.

Pulling himself out from his thoughts, Bakugou breaks the silence to pester you with something. “Pass me that, will you?” He asks, nodding his head over to the sole snack that sat on his bedside table. Something that one of the nurses left behind for him after his physical exam.

You blink, snapping yourself back to reality. You crane your next behind you, following his line of sight to the bright Tarami packaging. “Sure,” you grab and toss it for him to take.

Bakugou grunts out his gratitude. “Getting to eat normal food again will be the pinnacle of my life,” he states, rolling the Tarami around in his hands. “They feed us nothing but literal dog water and bland shit. “

“I’m sure the staff is trying their best. You aren’t the only mouth they feed in here after all,” you say, referencing the fact that your other peers, such as Todoroki and Midoriya to name a few, found themselves in the same situation as he did. 

“I fuckin’ guess,” he mutters in response, his focus shifted onto trying to rip open his snack but to no avail.

“Want me to - ”

“Don’t need it,” he says, cutting your sentence short. His bandaged thumbs are still fumbling to get a good grip on the plastic seal that stood in the way between him and his fruit cup. “This stupid gauze is just - ” The cup tumbles out from his hold and rolls out onto his lap. “Dammit!”

You smile at the display in front of you. Bakugou glaring at the container as if it had crossed him wrong was quite the sight to see. The fact that he has shown no signs of making another attempt at opening the seal gave you an indication that it was your turn to step in.

What a dork.

“Jesus, Katsuki,” you say, shaking your head at his stubborn nature. You take the fruit cup off his lap and, without issue tear the seal off before passing it back to him. He was too headstrong for his own good sometimes. “Nobody’s gonna bite you if you ask for help once in a while.”

Bakugou scoffs - losing steam now, he tips the rim of the cup against his lips, knocking back as many diced peaches he could fit inside of his mouth.

A mix of wonder and admiration suddenly crosses you as you study how quick he is to swallow down his food. Not even bothering to make use of the silver spoon left astray on the stand.

Bakugou silently chews. His cheeks have bulked up in size for the time being until all traces of food have been gone. Cute. “You’re so - ” You start but cut yourself short, wanting to enjoy the serene atmosphere rather than spurring him to the edge towards nagging at you.

You reach your hand out towards Bakugou, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth to clean the small mess he has made, to which he gently swats your hand away. His mannerisms were still the same as ever, never changing.

“I’m so what?” He asks, flicking his attention onto you as he watches the way your eyes linger on his face.

“You’re so amazing, was what I was going to say.” 

“Damn straight.”

You half-heartedly roll your eyes at his narcissistic response and reach for your phone, checking the time. “Wow, it’s now getting to 18:00?” You exclaim, swiftly entering the passcode to your iPhone and so that your fingers could scroll to the Tokyo Train Navigation app to check the times of when you should catch the next ride home.

Bakugou brows bump together in confusion at your surprise. “What about it? That means you’re ditching me already?” 

“Only for today though, the next train is coming in 30 minutes, and I gotta catch it before it gets dark out.”

As much as Bakugou isn’t a big fan of having your time spent together but abruptly short, he understands where you’re coming from, mentally putting himself in your shoes. 

At hours like these, when the begins to sun hide behind the city’s tall, towering buildings, it isn’t an ideal situation to have you walking out alone in the middle of dimly lit streets where villains may lurk at any corner. Especially after the shit show that went down this past week with the jailbreak.

He’d have no problem walking you home at times like this, but he can’t. Not when he’s on a “house arrest” list with the staff of the hospital.

“Fine,” he replies, dropping his head into his hands, which then finds purchase through his hair. Pissed with the cards he’s been dealt with. Feeling like he should clarify about your safety, Bakugou pipes up, “Make sure you ask the front desk to have one of their idiot guards walk you to the station. I hear that they do that.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, collecting your belongings from the ground. “Not trying to be edited in with the clouds.” A remark that was supposed to prompt a lighthearted, humorous feel to the conversation, but Bakugou remains tight-lipped as ever. A fitting expression for your grouch of a boyfriend.

“I’m serious. Text me when you get home too.”

“And so am I! I love my life.”

And he loves you-- was something that Bakugou refrains himself from saying. It was something that he still had trouble saying verbally but had no difficulty expressing.

You walk towards the door, ready to bid your counterpart a farewell, but he beats you to the punch.

“The hell are you doing?” Bakugou’s voice halts you from making your grand exit.

He stares at you sharply from his bed. Glowering with jaw taut as he eyes your hand placed onto the sliding door. “Cut that shit out, come back.”

“For why?”

You hear Bakugou breathe out a hushed hiss, becoming peeved at how evasive you were when he knew for a fact that you were aware of what he wanted you to do for him. “Come and do the thing.”

At his sudden inquiry, you finally turn around to face him. “What thing?” You prod, wanting to hear him say what he wanted out loud. To be straightforward with you for once rather than dancing around the topic like he always does.

Sidestepping the multiple wires and the IV tube that he was hooked up to, at last, you close the distance between you both. Finding yourself back beside Bakugou’s bed, and now settle yourself down onto the small space that he has created for you on his mattress. 

You feel giddy. A hazy warmth exudes from your chest that spreads down to your toes as you watch the slow change of pigmentation in Bakugou’s face. Blotches of a soft, rosy pink littered his exposed neck, indicating the effect that had over him.

Caving in, Bakugou swallows down his pride and utters, “Kiss me…” His tone is wavering in the slightest.

There it was.

Propping your hand near Bakugou’s face to steady yourself, you nod. You’re gentle in the process as you move much closer to Bakugou, attentive as not to brush up against any of his wounds. “Okay,” you murmur. 

You think to yourself about how pretty looks from your point of view. Admiring how Bakugou's plush and soft skin was despite the light bruises and scratches he’s gained from the fight, he looked very well-maintained for a hospital patient.

The more time that you take, you become aware of the fact that Bakugou isn’t above taking a fistful of your shirt and tugging you down so that you could meet his lips. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise you if he were to do so right now.

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he waits. Patiently, for you to make your move and just fucking kiss him already. Though there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.

Feeling the bed dip beside him, Bakugou could damn near feel his heart hammering against his chest. “Hurry up and get on with it will you,” he chides, his striking features already beginning to twist into an unreadable expression.

You laugh, unable to bite back your giggles as the male fixed you with his signature scowl. “Look at you, being a bully to the person you want a kiss from...” You say, leaning in close, now only hovering a few mere centimetres from his lips, both of you desperate for what would come next.

“You’re so mean, I swear.”

And that’s when you decide to close the distance, pressing your lips together.

It was quite sweet, literally, for his lips tasted of citrus.

Bakugou does a poor job at suppressing down his groan the moment your fingers wind themselves into his hair. The pads of your fingertips adoringly dance across his scalp.

The kiss starts off relatively chaste, both of you relishing in each other’s warmth as you pepper several small kisses against him—your stomach ties into knots as you experience how gentle he was being with you.

Despite the dull aching pains that Bakugou could still perceive whenever he made broad movements with his arm, his hand steadily finds its way to reach up towards your neck, pressing you further against him to deepen the kiss, swiping his tongue upon your lower lip. 

When your tongue comes into contact with his, it’s tentative and quick. And then it happens a few more times before fully feel comfortable enough to full-on kiss Bakugou.

Your thought process was growing muddled. Not a clear premise came to mind as his bandaged hand trails to the small of your back and back up again.

With every sound or hum of approval that you made way past your lips, it fed Bakugou’s desire to satisfy both you and his needs even. His thumb smooths over the curve of your jaw, easing your nerves each time you shyly pull away attributable to the great intimacy that swirled between you both.

He chases your lips, fervent on returning your energy that you were relaying to him, back tenfold. He loves you. So fucking much, and he only hopes that his appreciation and devotion may reach you.

You choke on a tiny gasp. “Katsuki - ” And that’s when he feels it, right in his chest. It’s as if he has been jump-started back to life, his heart quite literally skipping a beat at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips. It was adorable, and he wanted to hear you like that again. Say his name like that again, on loop without end.

Fuck.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, your breathing was starting to grow laboured now, and you decide to break the kiss before things can escalate and before you miss your train.

Pulling away from Bakugou, the traces of confidence that you once had prior to the kiss have all but flung itself out the window, completely gone now. “I’ll, uhm -” You stammer over your words, brain trying to compose a proper sentence in spite of your current dazed state. “I’ll be back to see you again, with the others.”

With how flustered and scatterbrained you were acting, it stroked Bakugou’s ego beyond belief. A wicked smile threatens to split upon his face, but he bites it down along with his greed to ask for one more kiss before you go. “Tomorrow,” he affirms, flicking his eyes back towards the TV—an entirely new show publicized on its screen.

You hoist yourself up from the bed and stand to your feet, ignoring how your knees almost buckle. “Right,” you say. No fucking way were you this beat up over making out with your own boyfriend, for crying out loud- you thought as you wander towards the door, almost taking out one of the monitors in your trail. 

Sliding the door open you step out, but you poke your head back in, stalling a bit so that you could look at the blonde for the last time that day. “But until then, get well soon, okay?” 

Bakugou’s eyes stay glued to the screen, trying to distract himself from how damn sweaty his palms were, that or how he could feel the beat of his heart pick up in tempo. Its incessant pounding was all too much for him.

It’s so stupid how whipped he found himself to be nowadays. “I know,” he dismisses, a bit all too quickly. He wants your ass out before you have a chance to glance at the heart monitor he was wired up to.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t. You wave and close the door behind you, your smile being the last thing he sees.

With the coast clear, Bakugou throws himself back onto his mountain of pillows. “Shit,” he curses, panting out a sigh of relief seconds after you were gone.

That was amazing, you were amazing, he thought, recounting the kiss. He swipes his palms against his sheets, being sure to get rid of any nitroglycerin that may linger to activate his quirk successfully.

Bakugou can’t stress how much he’s aching for nightfall to come, knowing that he would be one sleep from getting to see you again, and again, and again, until he would finally be let free.

But until then, as you had said, he had to heal.

And with the knowledge of you being around whenever he needed you the most, Bakugou was most definitely on the bright path to a speedy recovery.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha imagine #bnha imagine #bnha scenario #original #cress to charlize for snagging this screencap from a twt thread mwah

[swtki]

Anonymous said:

Heyy! Can you do a Cedricxfem!reader smut? Where the reader get stood up at the Yule ball and Cedric heart breaks since he has been in love with the reader for quite some time. And then they do the nasty you know thank you

A/N: Okay so basically...I am a stupid fucking Cedric simp,,,,and since I got home today, and my course work is fairly light for this week (no promises) my requests are open and I will try to get as much out as I can this week before my birthday! Jan 24th and you will get an about me post. ALSO, thanks for 700 (now 710 no brag) followers! I love you guys! Ok onto the fic!.

moodboard

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, SAPPY CEDRIC, BAD WORDS OH GOD OH FUCK

(Y/N) stood in front of her full length mirror in her dormitory room, admiring the fabric hugging her hips. Very rarely did she ever get to see herself like this, never mind other people. Her hand reached up to move a stray strand of hair back into place, a minor detail that although she doubt mattered, she could not refrain from. It was the night of the Yule ball, a night that the girls in her year wanted perfection more than ever, (Y/n) not excluded. 

It would not be unheard of, however it would be rather embarrassing to show up un-courted. Nobody to dance with, nobody to share a moment in the moonlight with. That’s why when Miles Dane asked her to the ball, she did not hesitate to say yes. 

To be quite honest, the two seventh years had never really talked. Though, they did have potions together. Surely, she would get to know him while sharing a dance, and she had to admit that he was quite charming and handsome. A tall Ravenclaw boy, lankly in the most perfect way, his skin a medium tone that glowed in the sunlight, so the carriages weren’t out of the question either. 

The clock on the wall read six fifty, there was no sign of Miles, only (Y/N) and her twiddling thumbs. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hurt him even, but above all, she wanted to believe he was coming. Everything was going to be perfect. It should all be perfect.

Inside the hall, Cedric Diggory, the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, was pretending to be interested. The mundane conversation between Cho, his date who he now was sure didn’t even remember who she came with, and another seventh year girl droned on. Despite the banging of the loud music into his ear, Cedrics head was silent. Bored. Without saying anything, he slipped away from the table, creeping into the corridor for a breath of fresh air. 

The cold December air hit Cedrics face with a refreshing feeling, the pressures of being a Tri-Wizard champion melted off of his shoulders. Though, he didn’t like to admit it, he sometimes questioned if this path was right for him. Would it have been better if he had stayed put, never scratched his name upon the parchment? He knew that he couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. Cedrics tall, lean body slumped against the stone wall. All was quiet around him, a welcomed environment. Then, he heard the faintest gasp, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up.

“Fuck,” (Y/N) sighed out, wiping the small bead of sorrow that had escaped from her eye. She knew Miles was not coming. A dark figure leaning over her crouched body interrupted her racing mind. Instinctually, she looked up from her knees.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?”  Cedric said in a soft voice.

“Nothing..nothing is wrong Diggory.” She avoided eye contact. Cedric and (Y/N) had been friends in years prior, particularly in third year. But as time drew on, their paths separated, effectively making them strangers to one another. He had gone on to be a hearthrob who was wanted by every girl, while she had focused on her studies and the go-to for casual sex.

“You know, we may not have sat together for three years, but don’t you think I can tell when you’re lying?” He squatted on the cement next to her, becoming eye level. “Now, what are you doing out here? You look so gorgeous, I’m sure your bloke in there is missing you.” His hand gestured behind him to the large archway leaking a bright tune. 

“Yeah, thats the thing,” she drew a sharp breath in, tilting her head up, “My bloke never fucking showed up. Look at me, all dressed up and no one to dance with.” Her eyes closed, painting a small smile in an attempt to conceal her pain.

“Oh...I see.” Cedric stood up and offered his hand to the girl below him. “Well, let me fix that for you.” She rolled her eyes, but happily accepted.

Opting to stay where they were, the two swayed in each others arms. The warmth of Cedrics arms comforted the girl, soothing her in a way Cedric had not soothed her in years. 

“Didn’t you come with a date?” she asked, her head on his chest.

“Yeah, shes inside. She lost interest with me I’m afraid.” Cedric made a small chuckle that made her bite her lip. “You know...I’ve heard about your reputation. I’m a little surprised, I thought you would always hate boys. Cooties was it?” He teased, resting his chin on her head.

“Oh fuck off. For the record, I did like boys. I liked you, Cedric. I still do.” He pulled away from her figure slightly, his eyes searching over her face. Then without any hesitation, he collided his lips to hers.

Shocked at first, she froze. But within a second, her hands were cradling his face. The kiss was deep, full of years worth of emotion. His grip tightened on her waist. Time stood still for the pair, it felt like hours before Cedric pulled away.

“Do you want to go to my dorm?” He said, panting. 

“Won’t people notice if you run off?? You’re like a celebrity around here, Ced.” She grinned up at him. Cedrics face took a more serious appearance, but his manor became relaxed.  

“Fuck ‘em.” His large hand grasped hers, leading the way to his dormitory.

(Y/N) sat on the soft mattress, her body stiff and unsure. Cedric fumbled around, locking the door, playing suave. He stood a mere three feet from her, wondering how he got so lucky. 

“Did you want to just chat because...Cedric, I can do far more than chat with you.” She gave him a seductive look, making the boy swallow hard.

“Well I... I mean trust me, the way you look sitting on my bed is amazing, and I’m all for it. But the question is, are you - I mean do you want to? With me?” A rose blush creeped upon the Hufflepuff boys face, making (Y/N) giggle.

“Come here, Ced.” She beckoned him over to her with her finger. He happily obliged, walking over to sit next to her. But before he could sit, she put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his place. “Stand...I want you to stand while I sit. Is it okay if I..?” she gestured to the growing errection inside his trousers. 

“Fuck...please darling.” She bit her lip and started undoing his pants, enjoying the sight before her eyes. She stroked his cock, admiring the way his eyes scrunched up when she ran her thumb over the tip. Smiling, she leaned over and put it in her mouth. His soft moans filled the room as he ran his slender fingers through her soft hair. All of the sudden, he yanked her off, pushing her on her back.

“My turn, love.” Cedrics mouth started leaving sloppy kisses around her mouth, trailing down to her neck while his left hand massaged her tit over her dress. Her elbows pressed into the bed, pushing her up.

“Wait, lets get these off, yeah?” Cedric kissed her, then unzipped her dress, fumbling to strip himself as quickly as he could. Once she was left in just her knickers, he continued where he had left off. He traveled until he got to her covered pussy, looking up at her to see if he could continue. She nodded, her eyes filled with need.

Cedrics left hand pushed apart her legs, letting him get a proper look at how she felt about him. His other hand yanked off her knickers, little did Y/N know how mental simple white cotton undies made Cedric. Without hesitation, his mouth started attacking her sensitive clit. The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever felt with her previous fucks, because this pleasure was dedicated with love. Her eyes rolled back into her head, a wanton moan escaping from her throat. This encouraged him to suck on her clit, and then to Y/Ns delight, inserted two fingers. Filthy moans filled the room as her cunt felt so pleasured in a way she had never felt. 

“Fuck thats so fucking...oh my god Ced.” He moved his fingers at a faster speed, attacking her clit simultaneously. Eyes rolling back into her head, a pure groan of pleasure filled Cedrics ears as she bucked her hips, reaching a climax unlike any other. 

Cedric stood, climbed on the bed, then looked at her. 

“Do you want to..keep going or?” He ran his thumb over her lips.

“yes but..I wanna be on top” His heart beat faster, his erection becoming somehow even harder.  He laid down on his bed, allowing her to swing a leg over his hips. Y/N grabbed his member and ran it through her folds, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. Then she sunk her body onto his, both of them in seventh heaven. 

Her hips started rocking against his, making his cock hit all the right parts inside her. Cedric was in love with the sight before him, his eyes looking at her like she was a goddess. Her hand reached down, rubbing her clit, maximizing her pleasure. It wasn't long until her next orgasm washed over her, making Cedric even more eager to put himself to use. When she was back off her high, he  brought her down to him, chest to chest. Thrusting up into her was the best feeling he could have imagined, it went on for minutes, both of them feeling amazing. 

Y/N leaned over into his ear to whisper,

“Please cum inside me, Ced. Please, I want you to use me and leave my body stained with your cum.” Cedric, finding out that now he had a thing for cumming inside her, sped up. His hips clashed with her arse as his climax grew closer and closer. 

Cedrics eyes rolled into his head, his body releasing his cum into hers. His legs shook a bit, he had just had the best orgasm he had ever had. The girl on top of him rolled over, now laying beside him. Both of them sat in silence, trying to catch their breath.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N”

#cedric x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory smut #robert pattinson smut #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco mallfoy imagines #draco mallfoy x reader

[jawllines]

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!” 

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?” 

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day. 

or

Harry still doesn’t like the other camp counsellors but Y/N’s an exception 

part 1

(tw: mentions of suicide) 

ii.

Psst. 

Harry was typically a heavy sleeper. When he was younger his mum used to joke that he could sleep through an earthquake-induced tsunami if someone allowed him to. An alarm would have to be pretty loud to stir him from his slumber, and unless he was on edge, a mere call of his name would not drag him from whatever dreamland he’d submerged himself within.

Psst. 

There had only been two things before that could notably wake him. His mum, who was the sweetest person on this planet yet managed to be the cruelest being on earth when he needed to be up for something, and his childhood cat Molly, who sits on his chest and makes it hard to breathe (which, from what he’s learned, encourages his brain to panic and wake him up so he could fix it). Other than that, he was blissfully unaware of the world for hours at a time. 

Yet, there was something stirring him now.  A low sound that puzzles him as he toes the line between consciousness and his dreams, aware of the blankets that cover him but still dancing on a stage with his limbs thrashing wildly and people shouting his name. 

Psst. 

Was it an insect? Maybe he was performing outside then -- a crowd of thousands in an outdoor field to see him for... .what was it that he did again?

Psst. 

Oh, he’s dreaming, isn’t he? How deep in his dream is he? He thinks this is the first time he’s ever been asleep and realized that he was asleep...he could probably conjure something up, right? Manifest something that he’s always wanted, try his hand in lucid dreaming. If only he could focus apart from the insect zipping past his eardrum. 

Harry, please wake up, we’re being haunted -- or murdered, or something. 

Harry’s eyelids flutter like swallowtail wings, his gaze blurry and unfocused as he comes to. He’s confused, piecing together the puzzle that always presents to him when he’s just woken up and has to readjust to the world around him. The whole process of it took nothing more than 10 seconds, maybe 15 if he’s really out of it, but that’s only because thoughts run through his mind at a hundred miles a minute. 

 What time is it? The room around him his pitch-black apart from a very small amount of light illuminating beneath the curtain covering the window he’s beneath, so it couldn’t be morning. Potentially early morning, but he would say that would be 3-4 AM. Did he need to be up? He didn’t think so, actually, because there’s no alarm buzzing him awake and as far as he’s concerned, he hadn’t signed up for any early morning shifts at the bookstore as of late. The last time he went in at 5 to open up shop while the owner was on vacation and Harry was more or less ran down by a mother raccoon when he’d stumbled upon her babies after getting out of his car -- Harry had been reluctant to go before sunrise since. 

Where was he? He knows he’s not at home, that’s for sure. The sheets smell like him but not him enough to be at his own place -- and the bedding isn’t as soft either. He knows he hasn’t passed out at someone’s house because he only does that if the person is close enough to him that he would recognize their scent, or if he was too drunk to get home, but that was usually accompanied by a wicked headache and a sour stomach. No, where he was smelled like wood and generic fabric softener. There was an air conditioning unit that rattled and rumbled from where it was fixed to the wall, he felt a tension in his neck that he only experienced at one place and, yeah, he was at the camp. 

He was at camp, in a cabin with Y/N, who slept with the lamp on because she hated the dark, was the owner of the voice that had woken him up in the inky black room. 

“Hm?” He hums, brows pinching as he lets his eyes shut again, only to open them a few seconds later, “Wha’s wrong? Why is your light off?” 

“I don’t know,” her voice is still just a bit over a whisper, and Harry wonders why she doesn’t just speak up now that she knows he’s awake, “I woke up a little bit ago and thought maybe there was a storm that knocked the power out or something, but I checked the weather and it’s been clear skies all night. I think our power line was cut which is like -- straight out of a horror film.” 

Harry sighs, a bit of him regretting the number of horror movies they’ve been watching once they finally got to watch Midsommar (in three days, they’d sifted through six different movies -- two movies a night and each one managed to horrify Y/N more than the last). He begins to press himself from the bed, his eyes adjusting to the dark around them, making out slivers of shadows, “I’ll go check --” 

“No! Are you crazy?” He hears her bed frameshift with her as she moves, “That’s just asking for a maniac to come for us. Plus I keep hearing noises and I can’t tell if it’s like...like little raccoon feet or a one-armed hook man.” 

“Alright, then go back to bed.” Harry begins to lower back down to the mattress but a sharp whine leaves her throat, “It’s dark when you close your eyes.” It’s silent for a moment, but then Harry feels a bead of guilt dribble through his body. He sighs, reaching up and wiping his hand down his face, “What do you want to do, yeah? If you don’t want me to go out there. Do you want to stay up?” 

She’s quiet, Harry is straying further and further from the state he would’ve been in to fall right back into his dreams but he tries to wipe away the irritation the best he could. What he reminds himself is that four days prior, Y/N had trekked out in the forest toward a lake despite her unremitting distaste for the woods in the dark and slapped Jack clean across the face because he was being rude to him. And he was going to ignore her? Fall asleep while she’s frightened? Harry could be a prick, but he wasn’t the bleeding antichrist. 

“I...um, well, I don’t want us to stay up, no, we’ll be so cranky tomorrow,” she shuffles in the sheets, “I dunno’, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed, I’ll be okay.” 

Harry isn’t sure what to do but in his half-awake state, the next few words that leave his mouth seem like just the temporary fix necessary for them to get the last few hours of sleep that they can, “Do you want me to read you a story or summat?” 

She giggles quietly, “No, it’s okay, really, go back to sleep, okay?” 

What Harry could have said was I can’t now, knowing that you’re awake and scared, but instead he utters a simple, “No.” He sits back up, patting blindly for his phone in his sheets, slipping his fingers around it, and tapping it awake. His screen blinds him with its brightness, so he lowers it before finding the flashlight. It lights up the floor at his feet and subsequently at its edges, he can make out Y/N’s shadowy figure. She’s sat up, curled in her blanket, wrapped around her head, and giving her a pseudo-nun appearance. She waves at him lamely and he struggles not to roll his eyes, “Maniac be damned, I’m gonna go out there and look for the breaker. Maybe the arseholes broke their vow of integrity.” 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Jack or one of the others came around and switched the breaker off, just to be inconvenient for the morning. They’d left them alone for four days sure, but Harry figures that it’s not so much four days of silent reflection and questioning why they feel the need to be such pricks to him, and more so four days for their anger to fester and brew. If not for the fact that Y/N slapped him then made him find laundry detergent and commanded the others to go get his clothes, then for the way she acted like nothing had happened the day prior. Jack’s cheek was still a stingy, red splotch, Oliver and Brandon were straight-faced looking irritated, and Y/N -- well, Y/N had never been more content with her day. She was having a blast with her kids playing bean bag toss, they did their little dance when one of them got it in the hole of the board, and when they were all getting drinks, Y/N offered to grab Harry his. He watched as she went to the cooler around the same time Jack did, they both reached for the last Dr. Pepper, and Y/N plucked it up and handed it to him before grabbing both her, Harry, and Mitch’s lemonades. 

He thinks it’s the sincerity that she holds, that would aggravate him had he been in their shoes. Y/N was completely unbothered by the night prior and Harry could tell, just like when he doesn’t reciprocate their maleficent tendencies towards them -- it was digging under their skin.

(She makes Harry laugh when she comes back with their lemonades, handing him one and uttering, “I let the prick have the last Dr. Pepper, and I’m regretting it.”) 

And while he’s hoping that they haven’t turned their target to her out of spite, he wouldn’t change what had happened for the world. It had made the two of them that much closer, and in the following day’s Harry had poked and prodded Y/N’s brain a bit more. Especially after what he’d seen on her page, he was intrigued by her. Intrigued by how she saw life, why she came at things the way she did, what built her up to be the person that she was in these very moments that he’s speaking to her. Harry hasn’t asked her about her old college roommate and he doesn’t plan on it either -- he doesn’t feel like he could, or he should. 

Harry has lost people before and he thinks the worst thing someone could do was to bring it up unprompted. He knows that it’s probably always on her mind but even then, maybe it isn’t at the forefront of it. Maybe she’s just trying to have a good few weeks, separate herself from the real world for a while, and he would be cruel to dig up something that she may not be ready to just up and chat about. No matter how curious he is about the whole situation, and no matter how much he wonders if she treats him the way she does because of what happened. If the topic was brought up by her he would openly and freely discuss it as long as she was comfortable, but he wouldn’t give her the third degree. 

So he minds his business and focuses on trying to get to know her better instead. 

He can’t say that it doesn’t change how he treats her a bit though. Harry is much. . .gentler, than he had been. He tries to be less critical of her unwavering optimism and seeks to understand where it was coming from instead. If he’s in the right mood he’ll attempt to match it, which makes for a good day with their groups, who he finds -- despite the small age gap -- have begun to kindle very close friendships. Mrs. Graham had even commented on it one of the days after they had a riveting game of balloon tennis. 

“You two make a good team -- putting all these other counselors to shame. And to think you were pouty about having to share a cabin.” 

It was true, they did make a good team. Harry thinks that them sparking a friendship had made the whole experience much more enjoyable for everyone involved. 

All of this together gives insight into why Harry is willing to stuff on his shoes at 3 AM and go out in the dark, muggy night to check and potentially fix a breaker. And no matter the number of times he assures her she does not have to come out there with him, she keeps hold of her ‘no man left behind’ mentality, pulls on a pair of flip flops, and pads out after him. 

Had they been in any other cabin, finding the breaker would have been much easier. They’re typically on the backside in the upper right corner, surrounded by a little cage with a lock similar to that of an animal crate. The struggle with their cabin was that the backside was basically in the woods, so he had to dodge low hanging branches and tangles of ivy to get even remotely near it. He hands Y/N his phone and she shines the light over the metal box, her hand steady despite how she looks back and forth and all around them like she’s making sure there are no red eyes glowing at them. The world around them is silent apart from the chirp and groan of insects, the scutter of an animal somewhere in the far distance makes Y/N huff a weary sigh but otherwise, nothing comes out to attack them. Harry restarts the breaker, they go back inside, and the lamp on its dimmest setting is switched on how they had fallen asleep with it. 

They both breath out in relief, Y/N dives back into her bed and Harry flops down atop of his covers, giving himself a second to feel the cool air from the conditioner fan over him. 

“Theoretically,” Y/N begins as Harry lets his eyes fall shut, “If there were some creature in the forest --”

“There’s no creature in the forest.” 

“I know, but theoretically --” She continues again, but Harry is quick to cut her off once more. 

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he tells her, “Go to sleep.”  

Once more, Y/N falls silent, but a quiet, “Thank you,” was the only thing to leave her mouth. 

                                                      .                               .                              .

A summer thunderstorm wasn’t abnormal during camp, which is why the recreation center and the art building are beneficial. It keeps everyone preoccupied and entertained with well-insulated walls to mute whatever carnage is taking place outside, which makes for less frightened children and an easier time for everyone involved. Harry liked being active and running around with his campers, sure, but he also really enjoyed a nice, calm, relaxing day trying his hand at DIY projects and abstract paintings. Plus it gave him the chance to wear the camp hoodie that he had spent a pretty penny purchasing, which was made of the softest fabric he’s ever felt and was far more comfortable than the t-shirts that they normally wear.

Y/N had also bought the hoodie, Harry saw as she stepped out in it after her shower this morning, and she seemed to be drowning in it but in the best way. The fabric pools off of her, but she looks cozy, and well-rested despite them waking in the middle of the night. He thinks she looks pretty cute, but he kept the thought to himself and instead asked her if she wanted his extra granola bar for breakfast. 

They alternate throughout the day, between the rec center and art building, and on the schedule, it appears that most the day he would be with Y/N’s group (which he prefers) and a few times he’s even with Mitch as well, which is nice. Mitch doesn’t grow to like many people, but he liked Y/N well enough -- he thought she was oddly entertaining (or so he’s told, Harry) and good for a chat. The only times he and Y/N were not with each other were when the activities were age-specific, but even then, it wasn’t like anyone was in a different room. They were all just at different stations within a big room in the art building and the recreation center was more or less free for all. 

Harry wondered when he started basing whether or not a day was going to be good by whether or not he and Y/N were able to be around each other, but he decided not to think about it too much. Lately, he’d been a little more on edge with whether they were together, simply because of Jack and the others. He didn’t want them fucking with her, and even though she’d proven that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he still worried, especially knowing he would be the cause of it. 

Y/N doesn’t seem the least bit distressed about it, or as far as she was letting on -- she’d not expressed any thoughts or concerns that they would be spiteful towards her. Hell, the only thing she had told him the night after was that she hoped she didn’t make things worse for him. For him. Why was she so willing to defend him? What did she get out of being so kind? 

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!” 

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?” 

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day. 

“I especially like how multidimensional it is — purple and pink stars? Beautiful, I love those two colors together,” she places her hand on Oliver’s head, and it’s then that Harry notices he’s holding something, “Harry, Oliver here wanted you to see the flower he drew because I told him how much you like lilies.” As bashful as he always is, he holds out the paper toward Harry. It was cute — a singular, yellow lily and he could tell that Y/N helped him draw it, but the paint and crayon marks all over the page suggested she left the color duties up to him. 

“Oh my goodness,” Harry gasps, looking at the painting, flipping it to Oliver and pointing at it, “You did this?” Oliver nodded excitedly, “It’s gorgeous.” 

“I think our groups are the best artists,” Y/N motions to her table, only a meter away from them all working diligently on their projects, “Charlotte is over there doing an artistic interpretation of the both of us, we are not allowed to see it until she’s finished. Mikey is doing his own rendition of Disney world, I see Maisey is creating a beautiful tree  -- Noah is that a cowboy you’re drawing?” 

Noah barely looks up from his paper, very carefully dragging the tip of the marker in a circle, “Yes.” 

“And Noah is drawing a cowboy! Modern-day Van Gogh’s, all of them.” Harry smiles as Y/N drags a stool up beside him, positioning it in a way so that she could watch both her kids and speak with him, “I heard they’re having one of them party things tonight, I didn’t know if you wanted to go or not.” 

“Hm, I dunno,” his brows knit together as he lightly scratches a mosquito bite on the inside of his forearm, “Do you feel comfortable with going after what happened last time?” 

She suckles her bottom lip into her mouth, gnawing on it as she nods her head, “Mhm,” she looks around them for a second, making sure that none of the kids are paying attention to them before she lowers her voice, “Mitch said that you used to go to all of them last year, and would like -- have a good time. I hope that I’m not ruining that for you.” 

“How would you be ruining it for me?” It’s true, Harry hasn’t gone to any of the parties that they’ve been doing since the very first one he’d escorted Y/N away from. Not for any other reason apart from he was just spending time and hanging out with Y/N, or he’d be too knackered to even think about leaving the nice, cool setting of their cabin to be in the muggy heat with drunk college students. He had much more fun not attending, and other nights Mitch would come around and chill with them too. . .he had all he needed then. Didn’t need the booze for a good time. 

“I don’t know, I just didn’t know if you weren’t going ‘cos of what happened the first time and you felt like you couldn’t leave me out or. . or something like that.” 

Harry shook his head, “No,” he answers, “We can go tonight if you would like, but it’s unnecessary for me. I’m good either way.” 

Although Y/N appears unconvinced, they have little time to go further into the topic because Charlotte is running up to them, a big grin on her face, “I finished!” 

“Well give it here,” Harry holds out his hand, waving her over, “Let’s see it.” 

On the paper are stick figure versions of he and Y/N, with big grins and 12 other little stick figures surrounding them. Above Harry’s stick figure, there’s a pink arrow and a very five-year-old esque writing of HUSBAD (Harry presumes it’s supposed to be husband), and above Y/N’s in the same fashion, she’s written WYFE. It’s then Harry realizes that Y/N’s figure has a veil on and Harry’s has a bowtie, “This is for you twos wedding! So thens when they take pictures you can has this one.” Charlotte chirps brightly and Y/N and Harry both cast each other a disbelieving glance. 

“Whoaaaaa,” Y/N is the first to break their silence, a smile pulling at her lips, “This is really good Charlotte! I didn’t know Harry and I were getting married, though.” 

Charlotte nods quickly, still grinning at them, her bottom canine missing as she gleams, “Me n’ Mikey thinks you should!” 

Y/N turns toward him, nodding toward Charlotte, “Well, the god’s have spoken. Where’s my ring?”

Harry coughs on a laugh as he hands the paper back to Charlotte, “This is really good, Bug. Why don’t you and Oliver go help Josie finish her coloring pages, hm?” 

The both of them head the short way back to their table, hiking up on the small stools and Harry makes sure they’re all settled before he turned back to face Y/N, who was biting down on a grin, “Don’t start --” he began but she’s already started, shaking her head. 

“Listen, it’s okay to be in love with me, but you should really try to tone it down. . .the kids are starting to notice.” 

Harry scoffs before he proceeds to tease her,, “How d’ya know they aren’t basing it off your actions, huh? Giving me love eyes every couple minutes like nobody would see.” 

Y/N mocks offense to his words and he tries to keep up the facade, but his sheer delight for getting in a teasing match with her overcomes him and he can’t help his smile. Harry loved teasing people -- loved making them flustered or reducing them to a bashful mess by his words alone. Y/N, however, was much less into flustered gazes and sheepish tendencies, and more so ready and willing to give him it right back. He’d met his match -- if he teases her she’s teasing right back (if she hadn’t started it in the first place), and both of them found mutual pleasure in it. 

“You can’t use my love eyes against me, I can’t help but give them to everyone I’ve ever met” she tells him, feigning sincerity before an additional anecdote, “You know my college roomie always told me they’d get me in trouble one day, and she had never been more right, ‘cos they did once at a party. She wouldn’t shut up about it weeks after it’d happened.” 

Harry feels his body tense just a bit at the mention of her, and he tries not to let it show on his face that he’s surprised how she so casually brought her up, “Yeah? What’s the story?” 

“The little ears around us suggest that I tell that story later,” she checks her watch, before looking back up at him, “Oi, we’ve got five minutes until we’re in the rec center. You get to pick what we all do since I picked the last rotation.” 

                                                             .                           .                          .

This time when they’re on their way to the party, Harry lets Y/N walk in front of him as he directs where she was to go. Opposed to when they had first made this journey together, Harry feels far more protective of her than he originally had. Plus, he’d seen how clumsy she could be and after the earlier storm, the softened dirt and broken off tree branches from the billows of wind made for a much harder terrain to navigate, so he felt more comfortable being able to reach out to catch her if need be. 

Harry was wary of going to the party tonight but Y/N had been borderline insistent that they attend, “Mitch says he misses you at these things and Niall told me he could only stand Shaun theorizing about the universe and us not being the only life form so many times before he snaps. I say we’re needed.” Harry never minded free drinks, and a potential fuck at the end of the night, so he wasn’t all too worried that he would be having a good time. He just hoped that the others would allow Y/N to have a good time. And he knows he’s being paranoid, because they hadn’t necessarily targeted her for anything prior to or after the lake incident, but he still worries. . .he can’t help but worry.  

But he wouldn’t hover. Once they got to the clearing, he helped Y/N get her drink and she sought off after Niall while Harry went over to Mitch, the two of them promising to meet up again in a little bit. He didn’t hover, but he did watch semi-closely, eyeballing Jack and the others, making sure they were staying away from her. Apart from a few less than friendly looks thrown in his direction though, they seemed to be keeping to themselves which Harry was ultimately very thankful for. 

The night goes by as these nights usually do -- he and Mitch drank, had a laugh, gabbed about music for a while, some of the drama going on around the camp (Y/N had an ear for gossip and eyes that could make anyone tell her anything, so Harry’s had a door to all the melodramatic events happening throughout the counsellors). It was a bit weird when Stacey -- one of the counsellors he’d only ever briefly spoken to --  had come up to them, and a little weirder when she borderline propositioned him for something more than a chat in the woods, but Harry politely declined. Told her that he was pretty exhausted after a long day and was probably just going to have a few more beers and retreat back to his cabin. 

He passes it off as a fluke. . .maybe he’d been making eyes at her and hadn’t realized it. But then Mia makes her way toward him and Mitch, and this time Harry’s brows furrow when she starts chatting him up. This one he entertains for a little while before eventually ebbs away from the conversation, because he and Mia had a fling once, but Jack convinced her and the free world that he was a prick, so she called it off. He didn’t necessarily understand why she would want to start that up again, or what “little birdie” put a bug in her ear that he still thought about her (as she said one did). 

It was after Cara had finally left after coming around to chat with him, that Mitch began to chuckle lowly at his side, shaking his head slowly, “Jesus Christ,” he tilts the nozzle of his beer against his mouth, and when he pulls it away, his lips are shiny from the liquid, “She really is working hard.” 

“Huh?” Harry feels desperate for an explanation as to why three times he felt as if he were being propositioned for a romp in the woods when he was not actively pursuing one. He had a feeling that it was the others trying to get him alone so they could enact some sort of piss poor attempt at fucking with him without Y/N spotting and tearing them a new one over it, “Are you in on something that I’m not, ‘cos m’feeling pretty fucking lost here, man.” 

Mitch nods his head, and Harry follows his gaze to Y/N, who is speaking with her brows dipped inward to Cara, “A few days ago she’d been asking me and Niall what you were like last year, and we told her just the same, jus’ a lot more ‘fornication’ is how Niall put it,” he smirks softly with a shake of his head, “And she seemed all concerned, asking us if we thought she was holdin’ you back or something. Personally, I told her if you wanted to sleep with someone you would have whether she were around or not but she didn’t seem very convinced.” A snort leaves him as he motions towards her again, still as amused by her ideas as he had been when she’d first explained them,  “Guess she’s trying to set you up.” 

“Oh fuck me,”  he exhales so forcefully, it whips the delicate plumes of smoke from Mitch’s cigarette into a misshapen huff. Why was she so concerned with it? Harry hadn’t once expressed any avidity in needing to spend time with someone in that manner -- he could go without sex for three weeks. . .did she not think he could? Was he exuding nymphomaniac tendencies? He surely hadn’t thought he was -- a few quick handies in his nightly showers typically tide him over just nicely for a bit of a dry spell. And what was her business that he hadn’t slept with anyone since they’ve gotten here? Why was she speaking about him with the others what she could as easily ask him? What she had as easily spoken with him about, albeit leaving out a pretty large portion of it. 

For the first time since they had begun getting along, Harry was irritated with her. He’d never been one to brood, however. He liked things to be up front and honest as soon as possible if the situation allowed for it, to stop his mind from taking an idea and running away with it. He held little interest in playing mind games with people. 

Which is why he hands Mitch the rest of his drink, fixes his heavy cardigan around his shoulder, and sets off in her direction. He dodges many bodies, avoids an empty cup on the ground beside what he could only presume to be a sticky puddle of liquor, and narrowly makes it past a playful fight between Oliver and Brandon who were wrestling one another. Y/N doesn’t realize that he’s making his way to her until he’s just a meter or so away, when Niall catches a glimpse of him and attempts to be inconspicuous in the way he pinches her side. She gasps from the way his nails had accidentally bit into her skin, flinching from the pain before her gaze had settled on him, “Harry!” She cheered but his face doesn’t soften as it usually does when they see one another, which alerts her to his disapproving gaze, “Oh, what’s wrong?” 

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” He inquires, motioning out past the trees. Enough trust had been built into the foundation of their friendship for her to not question him. Instead, she passes her drink off to Niall and follows Harry into the woods -- he wouldn’t go so far that they wouldn’t be able to see one another from beneath the curtain of leaves shielding away the moon, but just far enough that nobody would be eavesdropping. In any other situation he might wait to bring this up until they’ve made it back to the cabin, but Y/N’s intentions had been clear that the person he was taking home tonight wasn't supposed to be her. 

She pauses with him at a particularly thick tree trunk, and places the arch of her foot against one of the jagged roots that carved its way through the earth, “Is everything okay?” She balances herself with a hand against the bark, wincing when it jabs into her skin, “I was keeping an eye on Jack n’ them I thought so they wouldn’t try messing with you, but did they say something?” 

That does melt him some, Harry was strong enough to admit that. Just as he had been concerned with her wellbeing, she was just as much concerned for him, and he appreciated that. And while it does threaten to soften him down to his core, he still had questions that needed answers, and he wouldn’t let up until she responded to them. 

“Why are you sending girls over to me?” 

Her brows raise, but less in shock of learning the information, and more so with wonder how he’d found out she was the one sending them their way. The surprise dissolves into embarrassment quickly, her shoulders slump and she casts her gaze deeper into the forest, “Dammit,” she doesn’t hide her disappointment from being caught, or even feign confusion to try and pass the blame off coincidence that every girl who had come up to him had subsequently talked to her prior, “I was hoping you would be less observant.” 

“Y/N.” He says her name sternly, and her shoulders drop dramatically further as she steps down from the tree root. 

“Listen, in my defense I just felt awful!” She admits, waving her hand toward the party, “Jack had tried telling me a few times about how you just fuck people and leave them, blah, blah, blah, right? And I wasn’t paying any attention to him, but it made me curious to what you were like last year, so I asked Mitch and Niall. You came to these things all the time and you had fun -- then I come ‘round, ruin the first one, and you’ve been hanging out with me since. I just. . . I wanted you to be able to have fun and not feel like you have to worry about me, y’know?” 

A ‘v’ sits between Harry’s brows, “What is it your business what I’m doing, hm?” He fixes his cardigan from where it slumps off his shoulder once more, “If I wanted to sleep with someone then I would. Do you think I can’t set something up myself?” 

“No, of course not, I just thought --” 

“You didn’t think,” he cuts her off, and Y/N’s arms curl over herself instinctively when a cold brush of air rolls past them, “You should have just came to speak with me about it, I could have told you that I didn’t need anything like that, and that would have been that. Don’t go behind my back trying to orchestrate things for me, okay?” 

He wanted to say it -- he needed to say it, because Harry wasn’t some sex driven lecher that everyone at this camp tried to make him out as. He thought Y/N had known that too, but he guesses he was wrong. 

But he wasn’t expecting her to look so fucking defeated by it. A guilt weighs on his being when she nods, tipping her head down, “Okay, yes, I won’t anymore. I’m sorry,” her fingers dig into her bicep, as she breathes out, a shiver rattles through her that she tries to be inconspicuous about it, “I wasn’t thinking -- I wasn’t thinking how it would look.” 

Harry sighs, peeling his cardigan off of his arms, revealing his bare arms to the chill but he ignores it in favor of holding it out to her, “Put this on,” he wiggles it some, “I know you’re cold.” She takes it from him carefully, looking up, brows raised slightly as if to ask if he’s sure, “Go ahead.” 

“I really am sorry,” she tells him, pulling the patchwork cardigan over her arms, it hangs off of her, and Harry swallowed thickly. She’s. . .cute -- Harry had always been able to admit that. Her face is sweet, her eyes exudes nothing but understanding, kindness, and such a soft glow that Harry couldn’t quite explain. He finds that those eyes give him great comfort and warmth, because now when they’re tinged with the contrition she feels and Harry feels cold. 

“I know,” he murmurs, he holds out his hand for her, and very carefully Y/N slides her hand into his own, “Do you want to go get pudding?” 

A small smile pulls at her mouth. 

“Yes please.” 

                                                          .                          .                         .

Niall lets them use the key after a few dozen promises to be careful with it. They trek the familiar way, mindless chatter fills the air around them until they get to the cafeteria and their voices quiet in case the security guard is looping around. Y/N reveals her hand from the shield of his cardigan sleeve, Harry watches as the fabric pools around her arm, toward her elbow, and produces the key (that Niall only trusted her with). They creeped into the kitchen, pulled open the large refrigerator door, and the pudding sat in rows on the bottom shelf. 

They both choose vanilla this time, having tired themselves out on chocolate, and they sit at the spot they had last time, across from one another. He can tell, despite his peace offering, that Y/N still feels upset about what had happened earlier and it sullies his mood. She’s still chatting but not with as much heart as she typically has, and Harry couldn’t stand it. He just wanted her to giggle as she teases him again, without feeling like she’s tip toeing on eggshells around him. 

“Hey,” Harry starts, dragging her attention towards him where it had previously been scooping the sides of her pudding container, “Would you stop being so. . .tense? Is this about earlier?” 

Y/N clears her throat, opening her mouth and furrowing her brows like she was about to deny it, but she relents, shoulders dropping, “A little. I still feel bad about everything,” she shakes her head, dragging the edge of the spoon around the plastic, “About everything, not just that you aren’t able to sleep with someone. I came in late, ruined you having your own cabin, woke you up with my alarm, made you get out of bed ‘cos I’m afraid of the dark and -- I just feel like this massive burden. I feel like this massive burden on everyone.” 

Harry is alarmed by this sudden confession, but his body ultimately rejects the notion that she could ever be a bother, “How are you a burden to anyone?” He inquires, shaking his head, “You’re such a ball of light that just swarms through rooms. The thought of you being a burden is akin to the thought of Satan being a saint. . .it doesn’t sound right.” Harry sets his pudding down, though he keeps his hands fixed around the cup and the spoon, “Don’t know what gave you that idea, but the last thing you are is a burden. Who gave you the impression that you were?” 

She wipes tiredly at her eyes, “Nobody in particular, it's just,” she shakes her head, “Even now, I wanted to make your night good, and then I fucked it, and now you’re here with me instead of having fun at the party. I just feel silly.” 

“Don’t.” Harry tells her simply, “I like to spend time with you, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” 

The tension in her shoulder releases, “Thank you for this, I’m sorry m’just saying the same thing again and again. Back at home it feels like everyone is just. . .so hyper aware of me -- they’re always being so careful, or overly concerned and I always wonder if it feels like a heavy weight on their shoulders, like I’m forcing a piggyback ride.” She shrugs her own, reaching for the second pudding cup, “It’s just shit, so I overthink everything all the time to try not to be a burden, but I keep making it worse. Or at least that’s how it feels.” 

Harry tilts his head to the side some. He’s not usually someone who pries and probes people for information, but he’s never been more curious about Y/N than in this moment. When he thinks of Y/N at home, he thinks of sunshine pooling in the hallways through casement windows, her spinning around the kitchen in a dainty floral dress that billows around her as she stirs homemade jam. Harry imagines her amongst woodland creatures who coax her to the forest with songs, escorting her there as she gambols freely. 

He could not imagine her going home and feeling like a burden. Hell, he would have thought that she considered everyone else a burden -- that maybe it was draining to be the absolute light of everyone’s life. Yet here she stood, seeming worn, and broken. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is everyone hyper aware of you at home? You don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable.” He says it delicately -- he means it. . .if she didn’t want to share this with him, then he wouldn’t force her, but he wants to open up the possibility. He wants her to know that he’s an open ear if she so chose to utilize him. 

“Um,” her gaze does shift downward -- she suddenly appears so small, “Are you sure?” 

Harry nods. 

“I just -- it's not that I don’t like bringing it up, I just don’t want you to treat me any differently than you would knowing it, yeah? I think that’s what I hate the most.” She notes, “So do you promise that you won’t -- you won’t start tiptoeing around me?” 

“You’ve got my word.” Harry vows, but he has a feeling he knows what she is to say.

The sleeve of his cardigan covers her hand as she brushes the hair from her face, “In freshman year of UNI, my roommate was Mrs. Graham’s daughter, Penelope.” She straightens out in her seat, “We didn’t like each other much at first but we had grown very close -- um, once she threw away my fruit snacks and so I dunked her toothbrush in the toilet, but I felt guilty and went out to buy her a new toothbrush,” a laugh leaves her at the memory, as she rolls her eyes at herself, “That was what we had going for a while, but a late night heart to heart kind of made us closer. She told me things that. . .she’d been through a lot that nobody should have to go through, you know? She was bullied a lot growing up—in high school it was bad, people used to always gang up on her over stupid shit.” Harry hums, encouraging her to continue, and she stirs the pudding around mindlessly, “And we were just close after that. We had a flat together sophomore year and most of junior year, she’s my best friend,” she swallows thickly, “I didn’t realize how sad she was. . .I didn’t realize what she was still holding onto, and she -- we went home for Christmas break, and she never came back.” 

Harry feels his stomach sour as her eyes bead with unshed tears, “Oh, Y/N,” 

“It’s alright. I’m okay, I’m fine as I can be --  I’ve -- I’m mourning and I miss her, but I’m trying to be strong. Most days I am, but everyone at home just expects me to be this fragile thing, y’know? The days I’m happy, and chatty, they think I’m faking it. And some days I do, yeah, but. . .it’s just disheartening when everyone pretends to know what’s going on in my head.” She plants the pudding directly in the center, leaving it there and retreating her hands to her lap, “Mrs. Graham told me she felt the same. That’s why I came in last minute -- I’ve got all my volunteer hours settled and everything but she said it might be nice to get away.” A slow, easy sigh leaves her lips as she blinks the tears away, not one drop trickled down her cheek, “It is nice, but I still worry that I’m a strain on people around me, even if not for the reason I am at home. And I’m sorry to like, info dump all this on you,” she laughs a little in spite of herself, “You can’t ask me things, unless you want an hour long explanation.”

Harry reaches out his hand for her, for the second time that night, and once again she slowly slips their fingers together, “Thank you for sharing that with me, I know it must have been hard,” he squeezes her hand, “But I understand you a bit more now. I’ll keep my promise, I won’t treat you any differently, but before that --” she blinks at him, waiting, “I think you might just be one of the kindest, strongest, most caring people that I have ever meant. I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or add stress onto my life, so you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to try with me. We can just exist together, yeah? We’ll exist without burdens and without worry.”

The look in her eyes, was one that Harry had never seen before. One that makes him melt in her touch. 

“I would like that.” 

                                                             .                                    .                                  .

 “I can’t swim.” 

Harry was crouched down to Maisey’s height, fixing purple mermaid floaties around her arms. The day was not unusually muggy, but there was an additional itch to jump belly first into the cool watered lake. He had woken with a revitalized need to pry a star from the morning sky as it shifted from an inky purple to an early, dusky morning blue -- and give it to Y/N. He had decided after their conversation last night -- after they’d gone to bed and Y/N fell asleep cuddled in his cardigan -- he had an overwhelming, and an all encompassing want to hold her. 

Which made it hard to part ways this morning, but he managed. And maybe he played out an image in his head where he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before they went to wake their respective cabins, or maybe he didn’t (but if he did that’s his own problem). He is quick to convince himself it was because she’d shared a piece of herself with him that he doesn’t think she lets many people see, and Harry always develops a bit of a platonic crush on his friends at some point or another. He questioned whether or not he was in love with Mitch for a solid four days once. . .sometimes he just let his heart get carried away. 

He had been enmeshed in these thoughts as he got his campers ready for their time in the lake. At first glance, a ton of children in the lake seemed like a horrible, and faulty idea, but they took precautions so that everyone was safe. Every child wore floaties and/or life jackets no matter how proficient their swimming abilities. There was netting about ten meters out so that the children and counsellors couldn’t float out toward the middle, and they worked it so that only three children could be in per counsellor at a time, so that they could keep an eye on everyone. Harry wasn’t so nervous because he was a strong swimmer, and his kids were a little older, but he could tell Y/N had been a little jittery about it. It’s why Harry told her that while she was out in the lake with her little ones to let him know, he would come out with her to bring her some additional comfort that even the floaties could not provide. 

Harry had been pretty sure all of his kids were excited to go to the lake and he was grateful for that, until he looked up to see the nervous, large blue eyes of Jackson, downcast after he had spoken the words. The unprompted admittance confused him as he turned to face him, “That’s okay, buddy, we’ve got floaties for that.” 

Jackson did not seem convinced, shaking his head fiercely, “No, I -- I can’t swim.” 

“J.J. is afraid of the water,” Noah exposes the truth just as easy as he takes a sip from his juice box, equipped with his own blue arm floaties, “He didn’t want to say though ‘cos --” 

“Noah!” Jackson cuts him off, betrayal laced within his features. 

“--’cos he didn’t want to seem like a wimp, but he almost drowned when he was little.” 

Jackson looked as if he could cry, and Harry shook his head quickly, “Hey, hey, hey, c’mere buddy,” he motions him over, and he comes easily, stepping before Harry who had not bothered to leave his already crouched position, “Explain to me what’s going on, yeah?” 

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, a frown prevalent on his mouth, even as he speaks, “When I was little little, my big brother pushed me into the pool and I went under the water and my mom had to come in and get me because I can’t swim good.” 

Harry pulls his lips back, reaching out to squeeze Jackson’s shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that buddy. I won’t force you to get in the water if you don’t want to, but I do want to tell you that if you feel more comfortable, we could try a life jacket instead of the floaties? It’ll keep you more buoyant -- more bouncy in the water.” 

“Aren’t those for little kids?” Jackson inquires, brows pinched, but Harry shakes his head and points toward Y/N, never more glad in that moment that she had the age group she did, along with her views on not making them do, wear, or say anything that she wouldn’t herself. She’s got the life jacket swung around her arm as she clips Oliver into his own. 

“Y/N’s going to wear one too, and she’s not a little kid. I’ll wear one as well if you’d like.” He promised him. Albeit looking reserved, Jackson nods softly with his hands in little fists, worrying his lip between his teeth. The poor thing, Harry thinks -- he used to be afraid of water too. Nobody wants to conquer that fear suddenly, let alone with a group of people that may or may not poke fun because they’re kids and kids are jerks sometimes. 

Harry finds him a life jacket -- a cute one with a shark on it, that he helps him clip on, and fits it to his body with the straps. Next, he needed to find one for himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure where they kept the counsellor life jackets, so he called for Y/N where she’d been a few meters away and she popped her head up from where she was like a meerkat. Her eyes softened when she realized who had called her, and a gentle smile pulled at her mouth, “Hey hubby,” she greets him, much to the delight of Charlotte, who claps giddily, “What d’ya need?” 

“A life jacket, please. Where’d you get yours?” Harry tries to be decent -- tries desperately to keep his eyes to himself, but he finds that this is surprisingly difficult when Y/N is in her swimsuit. It wasn’t obscene in any sense of the word -- in the pamphlet they get when they sign up, it is very clear that speedos and bikinis were not appropriate, and therefore not allowed. If a child couldn’t wear it, then you shouldn’t bring it -- was the apothegm that they chose to live by in reference to dress code. 

This, however, doesn’t mean that Y/N’s swimsuit didn’t suit her well. It was fitted in a way that wasn’t too tight, yet wasn’t too loose -- like it might have just been made with her in mind. A simple one piece of nylon and lycra colored a powder blue, that barely showed off that much more of what she wears to bed, and yet his mind still flutters elsewhere. To unwise places, that he drags himself from before clearing his throat and forcing himself to look around the lake so it appeared his eyes were just scanning everything. 

“You’re in luck,” Y/N jogged the short way from where they stood, back to where her kids were all gathered, playing happily in the sand. Beneath what Harry had assumed was just a cluster of towels, another life jacket was hidden beneath the fabric. She hands it toward him with a triumphant grin, “This was the last one. I grabbed it for you in case you just wanted to float rather than keep your legs kicking -- you had a big lunch, didn’t want you to get a cramp.” 

Harry hates how his heart balloons in his chest. There was no reason to be a melt because she had thought of him -- that she had him in mind, so she snatched the last life jacket, and hid it beneath towels so nobody else could have it. No reason to feel all mushy from the way that she unfolds it for him, a silent prompt that she’s going to help him pull it on. And there was certainly, absolutely no good reason for how stupidly affectionate he feels when she strokes her finger along the heart tattoo on his forearm mindlessly, before murmuring, “You make me wanna get covered in them. Maybe I’ll just go and get all of yours.” She looks down at the ground, “Maybe not the toe, my feet are ticklish -- think I would kick the artist.” 

He recruits Y/N for the process of easing Jackson into the water -- Noah and Elinor are floating and bobbing about happily at their sides, while Charlotte and Mikey playfully kick and float close to their older counterparts (if not practically on top of them). There was a chill bite to the water when they had first stepped in, but as they walked out further and sunk a bit deeper, the cold eases up. The cool air soothes them from the sharp bite of the scorching sun, Jackson holds his hand so tightly Harry thinks his fingers may go numb, and he figures Y/N is feeling the same way, if her soft, “Loosen your grip up a bit, Sweetheart, you’re gonna take off my hand.” 

Eventually, Jackson relaxes. He finally understands that the life jacket will keep him afloat and holding onto Y/N and Harry wasn’t a necessity. Once the idea of this settles in his brain, he is more willing to let go and enjoy himself. It feels wonderful to see that he’s having fun, and even better when he sees the smile on Y/N’s face from this small victory. Last year, he hadn’t felt this parental over the children last summer, but something had changed. . .something that made him feel like he was a bit of a parent. 

It has to be Y/N. There was something about her that just oozes mother figure for these kids, even if she wasn’t intending to do so. She kissed the bandages over their wounds to take away the hurt, she praised the ground they walked on, picked them up if they asked, danced with them, encouraged them, treated every single child as if they were her own. Harry believes she’ll be a beautiful mother one day, if that’s what she’d like, and whoever the father or mother was she had chosen to spend her life with, they were unbelievably lucky. He just hoped they would understand that. 

Y/N floats into his line of sight, “Are you okay? Ellie said you look like Maisey’s aunt again, whatever that means.” 

Harry snorts, before nodding, “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit tired.” 

An understanding gleam overtakes her, “Y’know, I did think you seemed a bit snoozy,” she reaches out for him, squeezing his shoulder softly, “D’ya want to have a sneaky nap? I could watch the kids.” 

“But I like having you both,” Jackson whined, shaking his head quickly, finding their hands once more, reassuring that his grip was tight as ever, “Please stay.” 

“Yeah,” Noah splashes over to them, sliding his arms around Harry’s neck, wetting his hair with the water clinging to his life jacket, “You two are fun together! We always have so much fun -- Brittany said her counsellor always yells at them when they ask her to play with them.” 

Elinor was quick to add, “And Ro’s counsellor falls asleep during art days! He doesn’t even help them stay in the lines, and they’re little like Oli, and Charlotte.” 

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in the prettiest little pout -- Harry finds himself wanting to pluck it with the pad of his thumb, “That’s silly, isn’t it? I have so much fun with you guys, I couldn’t imagine not playing. Right Harry?” 

Nodding his assent, he reaches up, settling his hands around Noah’s arms and bring him along with him as he kicks them closer to Y/N and the other three, “It is silly. Some people just aren’t as fun as Y/N and I, Bug, it’s proven fact. They did the scientific method and everything.” 

Oliver gleefully pushes himself up on Y/N’s shoulders, flopping back into the water and bobbing, “I love yous!” He chirped brightly, “Yous guys are my favorites! I love yous.” 

The sight is adorable, especially as Y/N wriggles around and holds her arms out so they could hug, which Oliver happily accepts, “I love yous too, button.” 

They have fun -- for hours, as they switch out which kids are in the water, spend time on the beach with all of them, making sandcastles, burying one another, chatting and playing. It was very freeing; Harry could easily tell that he and the others were having far more fun than any of the other groups were -- Mitch and Niall had gravitated their groups closer to them when Y/N and the kids began to pour sand over the top of him. Even Cassidy came around with her kids after they had heard them all giggling and laughing and wanted to know what was going on. Harry was having fun, and maybe he was just mushy, but he credited it to the joy Y/N was exuding. It was hard not to be in a good mood when he was around her. 

By the time the sun sat a little lower in the sky, casting the shadows of trees over the sand and cooling them to the point of chilling. The kids washed their feet and hands beneath the rush of water from a yard hydrant, wrapped up in towels, and headed toward the dining hall for their dinner. There was a taco bar today, and Harry found that Y/N and he had a mutual love of tacos as a whole. She showed him how she adds feta crumbles, even let him have a bite of hers to see if he would like it so he could decide whether or not to put it on his own (it was delicious, she was right). 

Once dinner was finished, everyone was exhausted. They all gathered around the campfire, one of the counsellors strummed a song on his guitar, they all had s'mores and then they dispersed. Not even the rush of sugar from the chocolate and marshmallow gave any of the children an umph in their step; they were all so sluggish and slow, dragging their feet through the dirt on their way to their cabins. Harry’s group barely kept their eyes open as they stalked to the showers, washing off the lake water and sand that had been clinging to their bodies. After they brushed their teeth, they all but face planted in their beds and snores soon filled the quiet air of the cabin. They only made him realize how exhausted he was from the day spent baking in the sun, floating and kicking in the water. 

He trudges back to his cabin, where he finds Y/N had already showered off. She was face down in her pillow, her back slowly rising and falling with each gentle breath she took. She hadn’t covered in her blankets -- no, instead she used his cardigan as a makeshift cover over her body, and Harry thinks it might just be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The patchwork swallows a good portion of her body, the sleeve flopped limply by her head. . .he could imagine her crawling into bed. Could imagine her putting her knee up first, dragging the cardigan that had been lying limply over the post with her and just letting it drape over her body. She probably wasn’t thinking she would fall asleep. . .probably thought she would just lay there for a minute before gathering the strength to get beneath her covers. 

It’s adorable -- Harry hates how adorable he finds it, actually. If he could crawl in beside her he would, but instead he ambles to the bathroom, starts up the shower, and climbs in. 

The water his hot -- boiling drops pelt his skin, washing away the grime and sweat that felt as if it’d been caked onto his skin. It felt good; to cleanse and scrub himself free of the lake, massage shampoo into his scalp, soften his curls with the conditioner, and just allow himself to revel in the feeling. Showers feel wonderful - a renewal that he deemed necessary by the end of the day. And when he gets the temperature just right, it soothes the aches and soreness in his bones, turning his muscles to softened jello. By the time he slipped out of the shower, he was practically boneless and thought he’d be lucky if he made it to his bed before dropping to the floor and falling asleep. 

He expects Y/N to still be asleep when he leaves the bathroom, but he’s surprised to find her sat up in her bed, his cardigan pooled around her body and a deep frown on her face. 

“Oh!” He’s started some -- he really thought she was out for the night, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

“It’s morning?” Her face further turns to that of distress and Harry bites down hard on a chuckle. 

“No,” he responds, “It’s not morning. Only about 10PM, so you’ve got plenty of time to rest still.” She looks around groggily, rubbing at her cheek with one hand while she fisted his cardigan in the other, pulling it closer around her body, “Why don’t you get beneath the covers, Babe?” He asks her, and she’s quiet for a little while. The only inkling Harry receives that she even heard him was how she tries to shuffle and wriggle the covers down with her still stretched out on the bed, stuffing her legs into the blankets first, then sliding the rest of the way smoothly. All the while she clings to the cardigan, holding it tightly, resting her cheek on it. Harry doesn’t know if Y/N’s just far more affectionate than he had even thought prior, or if she was just half awake and doing things she wouldn’t do if she was fully conscious. Vaguely does he remember her saying something about typically cuddling with a teddy at night -- how she stuffs her face against it because it always smells like her fabric softener. 

He wonders if that’s why she snuggles with it -- he wonders if she likes the smell of him, so she buries her nose in the fabric and breathes it in as she rests. 

Harry hates this. He hates how inconceivably soft he’s been feeling, but he can’t help it. Y/N had found him worthy enough to poke inside her brain -- she opened up to him in a way she expressed she’d not been opening up to many people about.  It made him feel closer to her.

But he told her he wouldn’t treat her any differently after finding out. And if he suddenly started expressing more affection, he fears she would think he was only doing it because of what she told him. He just wants to be. . .he just wants to be gentle with her. Doesn’t want her to ever think that she’s a burden to him, because the anecdote had made him question and second guess how he’d been treating her their entire time here. Of course, he was never intentionally cruel, but some of the situations he thinks about the two of them in, and how he responded, makes him cringe. 

He switches off the overhead light, her dimmed bedside lamp and muscle memory guide him to his bed. Harry climbs in, shivers as he adjusts to the warmth beneath his covers, and breathes a soft sigh of relief to have finished with the day. 

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice startles his eyes open, which he’d not been aware he’d closed. 

“Hm?” He hums -- he had thought she’d fallen back asleep already. 

“You’re okay?” 

A soft smile plays at his mouth -- she asks him every night before bed, he’s noticed. 

“Yes, I’m okay. Are you okay?” 

She nods, “You did really good today,” her voice is muffled from her cheek mushed against his cardigan, “The kids had a lot of fun, they were telling me. I had a lot of fun too.” 

“Yeah? Me too,” he reaches to thumb the hairs of his eyebrow down, “And thank you. You always do really well with the kids.” 

She’s quiet for a minute, and once more, Harry thinks she must have fallen asleep, but the shift of the mattress tells him she’s changing position and Harry notices once more that his eyes have closed, “I’m glad you’re my roomie.” 

Harry utters the words, that two weeks ago he thinks he would have spit at. 

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re my roomie too.” 

                                                     .                                   .                              .

Harry was drunk. 

Typically, he didn’t allow himself to get very drunk at these little parties. He trusted the others so little, he had no doubt in his mind that any moment he was slightly impaired in some way they would take it upon themselves to prey on his weakness. This means he only ever gets mildly tipsy -- drinks enough to feel good but caps himself when he thinks he might start stumbling. 

But he just didn’t cap himself today. Not for any reason in particular -- their day hadn’t been difficult. They helped their kids through a mildly strenuous obstacle course throughout the morning, cooled down with them drinking juice boxes and eating popsicles and by 2PM they were inside doing little DIY projects. Harry burned his finger with some hot glue, but otherwise it was a pretty easy smooth kind of day that they didn’t get often. He and Y/N hadn’t gotten to spend much time together, which he wouldn’t admit loudly was a disappointment, but he and his kids had all agreed that they missed her. 

(And when they had seen her and her group walking into the art room, the lot of them had erupted in cheers, Noah, Eli, Maisey being the loudest of them.) 

They had a pasta dinner that was surprisingly filling, they told “spooky” campfire stories and ate s’mores, he got his kids ready for bed and he went off to the cabin. He and Y/N were going to one of the parties tonight, not because they had such spectacular luck with a good time before, but because they were coming up on some of their last nights here at camp. It was a bittersweet feeling -- Harry remembered being more than ready to flee last year, counting down each day, each hour dragging on longer than the last. This time, it felt like it was coming too quick. He would miss the kids, he would miss the busy days some. . .and sure, he was happy to go home and take a shower that stays hot longer than five minutes and rest on his soft, cozy bed, but he would miss not having Y/N right across from him. 

That was what he was having the most trouble coming to terms with, he thinks. The idea of them not having to spend every moment of every day with one another after doing it for three weeks almost sounds wrong. It's the same feeling he gets when  he knew he and Mitch wouldn’t have such easy access to one another once they went back home. Being at this camp sort of felt like being stuck in a time loop where the outside world doesn’t exist, so it’s very easy to forget that they all have lives outside of here. They all go to class, go to work, go home, study, eat and sleep. 

He and Y/N live relatively close to one another -- only about a ten minute drive up the street with only one turn and it's into her apartment building -- but he wonders if they’ll utilize it. He wonders if their friendship is tied to this camp and if that’s where it will remain, or if she even wants to be friendly with him after. Harry hadn’t considered that maybe she was only putting up with him because they had to live together and she didn’t want it to be miserable. Had he questioned if he was even enjoyable to be around? How does he ask her that without sounding entirely too desperate or needy?                   

So partially, he drinks to ease some of the worry in his mind. Harry doesn’t think he would “break down” or something like it if they weren’t able to continue being friends -- like a forgotten summer love that he might think about throughout the fall, and message her to see how she was doing -- but he certainly wouldn’t be delighted if that’s how it ended up. Harry thinks there’s so much more to Y/N that he would like to see, and know, and hear. Three weeks isn’t enough time, Harry decided, but in the same breath he wondered if she had thought it was more than enough. 

Harry knows she cares for him, at least a little bit. He knows that he cares for her and her wellbeing; he was fond of her. From what he knew of who she was fundamentally, down to her core, Harry knew she was selfless and kind -- it was hard to find people like that, who were that, without it being cakey or clouded by something else. She was transparent in who she was and her feelings regarding most things, and Harry valued her honesty. 

And she was just so damn fun. Every moment with her he spent, the air filled with laughter; she brought a slice of sun in her pocket wherever she went and Harry was consistently being warmed beneath it. 

The fact of the matter is, Harry doesn’t know how he could meet someone like Y/N, and get used to the idea of her not being in his life after three weeks. If he could refuse it he would, but what was he going to do? Kidnap her and take her home with him? 

He’s sat on the tree root, opposed to standing beside it like he usually is, with his back pressed against the bark of the tree and he ignores the jagged, uneven trunk against his skin. Mitch was beside him, leaning lower than he was with his jacket bundled up and stuffed behind his head, his legs kicked out as far as they would go and because of this, his foot rested against Niall’s lap. Niall was pleasantly gone himself, a bit louder than normal but also zoning out every so often. 

He was a good guy, Niall -- he had good opinions, and he chatted him and Mitch up about guitars often (he was typically the camp’s go to for an acoustic guy if they ever wanted campfire songs). Harry thinks they could probably be really good friends, if not for the fact that Niall was so barefaced in his crush on Y/N. 

It was obvious, Harry thought. He’d thought it was obvious from the first moment he spent a prolonged period of time with both he and Y/N -- his cheeks got rosy when she touched him, he stuttered over his gratitude if she complimented him, and if she went out of her way to do something (like when she’d stuffed her hand into a thorn-bush for his guitar pick that had flung from his fingers, and subsequently got all scratched up), he would look at her how someone might stargaze. 

Harry doesn’t know why he doesn’t just ask her out, if he likes her so much. It almost irritates him how skittish Niall seems to get at the prospect of it; to run away from those warm, nice feelings that she provides is silly. It reminds him entirely too much of himself and he loathes it. 

Tonight had been no different, only Y/N was dancing back and forth between them and a few other counsellors (Harry only recognized one of them , who was called Rosie and had been in his first year maths). Harry watched her most of the night, in the least obnoxious and creepy way he could, just because. . .well, she was nice to look at. He liked how her body animated as she spoke, or how she nodded her head as someone was speaking to her -- it was an encouraging nod, and her eyes locked onto theirs like they might be telling her where the fountain of youth might be located, or the secrets to the universe. 

She was cozy today -- it was cooler out than most of the nights that they had experienced, with a chill breeze that had even stirred goosebumps on Harry’s arms (and he was all but swaddled in his hoodie). Y/N had a light fitted sweater that she sometimes slept in -- not heavy enough to shield her from the icy terrain that winter would provide, but enough to fight past the harsh summer night breeze that threatened to help a storm roll in within the next few hours. Loosely, he let the images of her cuddled close to him invade his brain. What it might feel like, how the knit would brush against his skin, if she would hide her face in his neck or spider around him as the big spoon and burrow against his hair. Y/N struck him as someone who liked to do more of the cuddling than being cuddled herself.

He would miss her when they had to leave. Harry worried who would just exist with her, like they had been doing. He worried about her going back to a place where she felt like a burden -- he would be around, wouldn’t he? If she allowed him to, he could be there for her, but he doesn’t want to seem pushy. By all definitions, they had really just met -- Harry had known Y/N for approximately 17 days, but it felt like so much longer. He wonders if he had known her in a past life, or if it was the fact that they spent almost every day all day with one another for at least 15 of those 17 day -- he finally understands how everyone in the Love Island villa always goes on about how a day in the outside world feels like a week where they are. 

It’s not like he’s professing his love to her, for fuck sake. He just likes her -- whether it be platonic or not, Harry thinks Y/N is just delightful. 

“Your little girlfriend’s not with you?” 

Harry had forgotten how Jack’s voice sounded how grating nails against iron pipes might make someone feel, mostly because they hadn’t spoken in quite a while. After Y/N had slapped him, he had kept to himself, resorting more to disgruntled glares and probably pissy comments he was murmuring to his mates about him. If someone asked Harry, he would say that him and his friends were afraid of Y/N -- she posed a good threat to them. Sure, they hadn’t understood the extent of her words that night (like how and why she knew Miss. Graham), but they were enough to rattle them. No matter being in university, or within the range of 20-23 years old, nobody wanted to be scolded by a woman in her 40s, nor did they want to be kicked out of a camp counsellor position, or to have their volunteer hours revoked. 

So they had left him alone, which Harry thinks may have been such a strain for them he would be surprised if they hadn’t popped a blood vessel. Even if they wanted to, he was always with Y/N -- they never really had the chance, and if they did, they didn’t really take it. 

Which is why he is both surprised and incredibly annoyed with Jack’s sudden appearance. 

“Piss off.” Harry responds, nursing his beer bottle closer to him. 

“You’re always so ill-tempered,” Jack leans up against the tree, “Just wanted to have a chat. Like why Cassidy suddenly wants to break things off after chatting with you and Y/N. Got any ideas?” 

Harry’s brows dipped in confusion, “What? What are you on about?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know,” Jack rolls his eyes, “Cassidy and I are doing just fucking fine for six months, but we come here, she starts chatting with you and now all the sudden she’s ready to break up. What the fuck did you say, hm?” He nudged Harry’s side with his foot, “Fucking Y/N wasn’t enough, you had to fuck Cassidy too?” He kicked him this time, harder than before.

Harry, who did not take too kindly to being kicked, rolled his eyes and pushed himself to a stand, “Dunno why you’re so fucking insecure that you think me being around has anything to do with Cassidy finally seeing what a prick you are, but this needs to stop,” he handed his bottle to Mitch who took it wordlessly, “I’m not fucking Cassidy, I’ve never fucked Cassidy, so if you could just grow the fuck up and recognize that maybe she broke up with you, because you’re awful to be around, that would be great.”            

Jack, which Harry had expected, took more of a physical approach, giving a shove to Harry’s shoulders, and Harry’s back slams against the tree behind him, “Fuck you,” he spit, “You all holier than thou ‘cos you’re dipping your dick in Miss. Rainbow Bright? What do you know about me, hm? You’re just a dumb fuck who has to be here because you’re a no good druggy fuck with anger issues. How does it feel knowing you’ll amount to nothing after UNI?” 

There isn’t a lot that could get under Harry’s skin. A lot of people could say a lot of shit that he brushes off and lets go, but there are two things that he really just can’t. One of them is when people try to speak poorly of his mum, and the other, was when someone pretends to know his situation when they don’t have a fucking clue. Who was this trust fund bastard to tell him he was a druggy fuck? That he would amount to nothing after UNI? Harry worked two jobs to set himself through school and keep himself fed, with a roof over his head, just so that he could live the life he wanted to after university. 

Maybe it was silly to punch him, but it felt good to. Harry reared back his fist and it collided with his jaw, making Jack stumble backward, his hand flying to his face, “You fucking --” he swung in return, only he catches Harry’s shoulder because Harry moved out of the way in anticipation. Niall narrowly dodged being caught in the crossfire as he rolled out of the way. 

The fight didn’t get too far, however, because when Jack was gearing up to swing again, Y/N appeared and easily wormed her way in between them, “Are you serious right now?” Her brows were furrowed -- she looked legitimately pissed off, and, well. . .it made Harry take a step back at least, “Thought we had a chat about this, hm? You were going to leave him the fuck alone -- no, look at me, not him,” she grabbed at his collar, giving a sharp tug when his angry gaze had flittered back toward Harry, “I’m not an angry person, Jack, I don’t like being mean, or cruel like you seem to be so fond of, but I can and will be if I need to and I promise you that. Don’t you ever speak to someone like that again, yeah? What you were saying was just awful.” She lets go of his collar, taking a step back and sighing in a sharp huff, “I can’t speak for Cassidy, but if I had to guess she probably cut things off because you’re a jealous bastard who questions every interaction with another person and try this alpha male persona to scare other people away. It must be exhausting.” 

Jack shook his head, “We were fine --”

“You thought you were fine. Things aren’t always what they look like, alright? The sooner you understand that, the easier your life will be.” She nods toward the center of the clearing they were in,  “Go get some ice from the cooler, and go the hell back to your cabin. You’re not a fun drunk.” 

Albeit reluctantly, Jack follows her orders and slinks his way to the cooler. The others around them had grown quiet as they had watched the confrontation unfold, but they soon all lost interest once they realized nothing more would happen. Y/N turned to face Harry, the anger on her face immediately dissolving, as she shakes her head, “What a dick. I’m so sorry he spoke to you like that,” she takes ahold of his wrist, the hand that he had punched Jack with, running her thumbs over his reddened knuckles, “I told him -- after the lake, I told him that he needed to leave you alone or I’d do something about it. Dunno what I was gonna do, but I was going to do something -- I will --” 

“Hey, hey,” he cuts her off, “It’s okay -- it’s okay, come on, let’s. . .let’s go to the cabin, yeah? Should we go back to the cabin?” 

Y/N looks at him like he was batty, “No shit we’re going back to the cabin! I’ve got to give you like a full medical look over. He slammed you into the tree, and honestly, you bruise like a peach.” 

They make the trek back to the cabin, relatively quiet, Harry still attempting to process what had happened and what Y/N had said. Had she really spoken to Jack after the fact and threatened him if he messed with Harry again? The softest, probably sweetest person he knows, had taken Jack off to the side and told him if he didn’t leave Harry alone she was going to do something about it. Not only that, she grabbed him by his collar and told him off in front of everyone. It made his heart race, the thought of it, and his cock twitches in his pants at the moment on repeat in his mind. 

Once they get back to the cabin, Y/N has him take his hoodie off with her in the bathroom so she could visualize his back and shoulder. Jack may be short-tempered and smaller than Harry, but his punches still packed a great deal, so a nice, reddening bruise was forming quickly around his shoulder. On his back there were scrapes from the tree bark, Y/N tells him, and a ton of little bruises that had begun to form as well. She makes him stay still as she retrieves the first aid kit from their medicine cabinet. 

“Y/N,” he started, and she hummed to encourage him to continue, “When did you speak with Jack privately?” 

She clears her throat, plopping the first aid kit down on the sink counter and unclipping it open, “The morning after the lake,” she answers without hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to like, fight your battles or anything, but I needed him to know I wasn’t bluffing when I told them I would rat them out, and worse if the situation allowed it. I hate bullies,” she pulls out a small tube of bacitracin, tutting her tongue as she squeezes it out on the tip of her finger, “And I hate how they treat you. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 

“You didn’t at all,” Harry remarks softly, jolting when her fingers very carefully graze over one of the tender areas on his back, “Thank you, actually, for sticking up for me again.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. I think I’m pretty scrappy when I need to be,” she giggles to herself, “Like, if need be, I would take on the Queen for you. Might be an uneven match though, she’s pushing 100.” 

Harry spins around to face her though, “Y/N, I mean it,” he tells her seriously, their gazes locking, “Thank you for everything. For dealing with my attitude, for sticking up for me, for helping with the kids, for making this experience bearable, for being such a positive light,” he sighs, “You’re amazing, you deserve amazing things.” 

Y/N looks taken by his words -- he wonders if she’s as lost in his eyes as he is in hers. Her mouth falls open gently, like she may be searching for what to say back to him but can’t come up with anything. He worries that he’d said too much -- that he freaked her out or something. He wasn’t trying to, he was just so grateful for her, he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to express it. 

He is about to apologize for being too forward, when Y/N pushes the short distance and connects their lips together. 

Harry’s confused for a moment as his brain registers what’s happening, but when he feels that she might pull away, his body finally seems to wake up. His hands find her face, cradling her jaw in his hands as he reaffirms the kiss and lets the butterflies in his body take over in hoards. He’d given thought to kissing Y/N, sure, but he’d never thought it would happen. Not only that, he’d never thought it would feel this nice. She tastes like the pineapple wine coolers she’d been sipping on that night, her lips still a bit sticky from the residue of the alcohol on her soft lips.

She’s gentle in how she kisses, like Harry would have guessed -- careful too, and cautious with how her lips parted from him only to fix back together. A pool of heat had formed in Harry’s lower belly and rose to his chest, stirring his heart in flutters when her tongue slid into his mouth and met her own. Harry hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to kiss her until their tongues are sliding against one another, and his hands are slipping down from her jaw,  caressing the delicate skin of her throat, skating down her chest to her hips. He squeezes her sides and pulls her closer to him, feeling the knit of her top rub against his bare torso. It was as soft as he’d imagined it’d be. 

Had she been wanting to kiss him for as long as he wanted to kiss her? Normally, Harry could tell how badly someone wanted to kiss him by the act alone, but with Y/N he was so caught up he couldn’t focus. She was calm and soft, but the longer they kissed, the more ardent she became. It was the tiny moan that had left from her mouth into his own, that made him lightheaded. He had to pull away to breathe but his forehead pressed against hers as he breathed in, “Harry?” Her voice is low, she says his name like a secret, “Was that okay?” 

His response is to press their lips back together, but this time only for a moment, before he withdraws. Harry loops his fingers around her wrist and brings her with him back into the main room, flopping onto her bed since it was the closest and urging her to climb into his lap. She straddles him, and just as soon as she’s within reach, he slides his fingers at the nape of her neck and pulls her back to his mouth. 

It was good -- it felt so fucking good, Harry couldn’t begin to describe it. He held her close, and tried as he might to stave off his cock from ruining the moment, the longer they kissed the harder he got. How she was positioned at first made it so she couldn’t really feel him, but when she tried to get closer to him, she scooted her hips forward and rubbed up right against him. A gasp leaves her as she parts from him, looking down, having lifted her hips, “I’m sorry,” she apologizes and Harry gives a startled laugh. 

“I’ve got a stiffy, and you’re apologizing?” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve got a pretty girl in my lap kissing me, s’kind of hard not to get hard. We can stop if you want.” 

“I don’t want to stop,” she answers with no delay nor doubt, as she lowers back down, resting her front on his prick and with this she gives an experimental roll of her hips. Harry hisses in a breath as she does it again, her own little moan slipping from her mouth. She was only in a thin little pair of shorts, and Harry had chosen sweatpants for the night, so there was little fabric truly separating them. Harry was thankful for it as she continued to roll her hips against him, sponging kisses from his mouth, down his jawline, to the curve of his throat. She fixed her lips there, lulling her tongue over the skin before she started suckling at him and Harry’s hands danced along her back, stroking up and down it, feeling her, holding her closer. Each roll of her hips made him harder, and he was desperate to know if she was wet. If he pushed his fingers into her shorts, would they come back slick from her arousal? Would she watch him as he slid them into his mouth to taste her? Would she let him split her thighs and lick straight from the source. 

His mind was overcome with filth, smutty images entangle once innocent thoughts as she brought the blood to the surface of his skin. When one of his hands left where it had latched onto her hip and slowly maneuvered around to her front, she paused, but left her face dipped in his throat, “Are you wet for me?” He asks her quietly and she nods through a little shiver, “Yeah? Bet you soaked through your little panties,” he murmurs as he slides his fingers past the elastic bands of her shorts and underwear, but left his fingers just past them, “Answer me.” 

“Yes,” her voice trembles, she swallows thickly and the muscles in her abdomen contract beneath his fingers. 

Harry hums low, slipping his fingers down further and he dips between her slick folds, “Oh, Sweetheart,” he presses a chaste kiss to the side of her head, “Is this your first time getting wet for me?” She shakes her head, “Hm, really? So you’re like this often? Do you take care of it?” 

“I -- yeah,” she stutters over a moan as the pads of his fingers roll over her swollen clit slowly, feeling it flick beneath them, “At night, sometimes I will in the shower if I can’t. . .if I can’t wait anymore.” 

He feigns a gasp, “Oh my goodness,” he speeds up the slow lull of his fingers, “Your showers are always so fast, doll, you’re really that quick to cum?” 

Harry may not be able to see her face, but he can hear the pout clear in her voice, “It usually isn’t that fast! Just with you, it is -- when I think of you, it’s always quick.” 

He thought it would be impossible for his cock to be harder than it already was, but her words make pre-cum bubble at the tip, and when he dips his fingers back into her slick little hole, he gets even harder. Gliding his fingers from her panties, he draws them up to his mouth and presses them past his lips as he’d wanted to. Y/N has withdrawn from his throat, watching him do it with glassy eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders, digging her fingers into grape sized dents at the muscle. Her mouth falls open as he sucks her juices away, his eyes fluttering and a groan torn from his throat. 

“Get on the bed,” he instructed and Y/N followed without question, crawling from his lap and lying her head on her pillow as Harry stood, and repositioned himself. He takes a hold of shorts and drags them down her legs, wriggling them off her ankle and tossing them elsewhere. His lips finds her ankle first, before he’s peppering and sponging kisses down her leg, the parts that he had tended to throw over his shoulder. When he gets to her thighs, he makes the kisses slower, softer -- he suckles and nips at the supple skin until he’s right before her center, only to switch to her other thigh and push kisses up and down the length of it. 

Y/N’s whole body trembles with each shaky breath she gives. She’d spoken no words until he was positioned right in front of her core, looping his fingers in the waistband of the little cotton pair she had on, pulling them up toward her hips so the fabric stretched out over her. He could see her pussy beneath it, made out the outline of her swollen lips and engorged clit -- it made his mouth water. 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” she tells him, and his gaze is pulled back up to her -- she looks apprehensive. 

“What?” 

She shrugs, “I know some guys don’t really like to so --” 

“Do you want me to eat your pussy?” Harry asks her bluntly, and he revels in the way her eyes widen, and how bashful her face turns as she looks away, “It’s a yes or no question, honey, if you don’t want me to, I can come back up and kiss you while I make you feel good with my fingers. If you do want me to, I’m g’na pull those panties to the side and make you cum on my tongue -- either I’m good with.” 

“I -- yes,” she answers, her voice meek, “Yes I want you to.” 

Harry smiles softly, “Poor thing, How many stupid boys were refusing to eat this sweet little peach?” He runs his thumb up and down her slit, visualizing where the wet spot had grown and soaked her panties so that the fabric thinned. Leaning in, he nosed at her clit and she inhales, “God, I’m so excited — you’re okay with this? You’re okay with me eating this little pussy out? Need you to let me know because once I start sweet girl, I’ll be in heaven.”

“Yes, please, please lick me.”

“So polite,” he suckles a kiss at the very innermost part of her thigh, before licking one, long stripe up her center through the fabric. She moans, pushing her hips down toward his mouth as he drags his tongue over it again, and again, and again. He soaks it with his spit, teasing her — he wanted to pull her panties to the side and suckle and slurp between her lips until she came — but he wants her to beg for him. Wants to hear that she wants him just as much as he wants her. 

He smiles against her as he hears her getting impatient, little huffs between each moan. She whines, her hips bucking up against his tongue — he looks up to her, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly. The fingers of one hand are dug into the sheets beside her, while the others rest between her teeth. Her brows were tilted, lips pouted, whimpers come more frequently the longer he suckles and laps on the fabric, drenching it. 

“Harry,” she finally works out, shivering when he pauses just over her clit and flickers his tongue over the top of it, “Oh, please just -- please.”

“Hm?” He hums against her, jolts, inhaling sharply, “What is it, baby? You’ve got to use your words.” 

“Please stop teasing me,” she tells him, “Please take them off.” 

And Harry may love to tease, but he wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t a bloody monster, was he? So he slides his index and middle finger in between the fabric and her core and tugs them over to the side -- he didn’t want to waste any time wiggling them down her legs. No, instead he dips his tongue in between her lips and slides it flat and straight up to her swollen clit. The groan that leaves her is sinful -- it makes his cock twitch in his pants, his heart slamming against his sternum as he suckles and her fingers find his curls. She digs her fingers within the strands, rocking her hips up to meet his mouth, and for a moment, Harry just leaves his tongue out and flat for her to grind against. Harry thinks, if he could spend the day just strapped to Y/N’s bed, willing, ready, and waiting for her to come use his mouth how she pleased -- he would be inconceivable happy. 

Eventually he wiggles his face back into her, sliding his tongue back and forth before he latches his lips back around her silky folds. The swollen little button crying desperately for his attention was where he spent most of his time, lapping, or lulling his tongue in circles around it. She keens, her heel digs into the mattress and begins to slide down but Harry grabs a hold of her thighs and pushes both of them up, so her knees are to her chest. The new position makes her cry out his name raggedly, and Harry was teeming with carnal desire, and so horny he thinks he would barely have to hump against the mattress to cum. 

“I’m close,” she warns him, mewling, “I’m g’na cum, I’m -- oh, please don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

Harry doesn’t think he’d stop if he was paid to do it. He doubles his efforts, sucking harder, sliding down to tongue at her hole while his fingers wrapped around and spun little circles into her clit. His other hand he reaches up with and slides his thumb into her mouth and she accepts it graciously, as it muted her moans that grew louder and louder the closer she got. 

When she cums, it’s beautiful -- Harry wishes he would be able to see it on repeat, how her back arched upward and her hips bucked loosely as she pulsated around his tongue. Her mouth hangs open around his thumb, her eyes squeezed shut, the fingers in his hair tighten and her other hand wraps around his wrists and holds him tightly. The initial lurch of it subsides and she melts into the mattress, trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving beneath her sweater. 

After he thoroughly cleans her (until she’s twitching and jumping away from his tongue), he crawls up her body, pushing her sweater up over her breasts, “Can I fuck you, Darling?” He asks her, a small smile on his mouth when she leans her chest closer to him so he can reach behind her and unclip her bra. Tugging the cups away, he grabs them carefully, thumbing over her nipple, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, don’t feel bad about it, just let me know.” 

“I want you to,” she rushes to tell him, nodding, “Do you have a condom?” 

He dips his head against her chest, breathing out a sigh, “Fuck me,” he utters, shaking his head, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.” 

He usually does -- Harry always keeps a few on him, but he remembers very vividly he and Y/N had blown his last one up just a few nights prior and drawn a face on it. For a moment he feels hopeless, a sad pit forming in his stomach because the thought of fucking Y/N sounded like paradise and he only brought one bloody condom that he wasted. 

“It’s okay, we’ll do it next time then,” she tells him, and Harry feels a joyful spike in his overall demeanor. Next time -- she wanted there to be a next time? And if she wanted there to be a next time, then they would have to see each other after the camp. . .they would spend time together, Harry could learn what she was like in her normal day to day. He was eager and delighted, and not even just at the prospect of pushing into her (which he was also pretty damn excited for), “I mean, if you wanted to do this again, then, yeah -- right? We’ll hang out after camp is through?”

A smile threatens to split his cheeks, “Of course we will,” he tells her, nosing at her jawline, “And not just ‘cos you promised to let me fuck you. I was hoping we would see each other still but was worried that you might be sick of me.” 

Her brows pinch, “Sick of you? Dummy, I thought you would be sick of me!” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the both of them, “We’re so stupid, we ought’a communicate better.” Y/N presses at his abdomen, “C’mon then, I’ll spin around and you can fuck between my thighs. I did it once with a boy -- I just shaved in the shower last night too so it should be soft.” 

Y/N flips over, scooting her bum in the air for him as she cuddles a pillow to her face, her ankles locked in place and her thighs squeezed together. Harry wiggles out of his pants and boxers before he lets a glob of spit fall onto his stiff cock that had soundly slapped up against his stomach, slicking it up nice and wet so the glide between her thighs wouldn’t be too dry. One hand he lays palm flat to her bum, stroking the skin there with his thumb while the other hand navigates his prick, tipping it down and fitting it between her warm, soft thighs. 

It felt good; Harry groans wantonly as he pulls out and sinks back in, watching himself disappear between them. She wiggles her bum at him and Harry playfully swats it, chuckling when she squeals and giggles, “You’re so fucking cute,” he coos before bending over, stretching himself over her so his chest was pressed to her back as he started steadily fucking in between her thighs. One hand he uses to cup her breast and tweak at her nipple while the other he slides down to her pussy, finding her swollen little button and rubbing it. 

Harry’s skin prickles as she moans, her legs falling open just slightly but he tuts his tongue, “Keep them nice and tight for me, baby,” he murmurs, and she nods, tightening the channel for him once more. He won’t last long, he knows it -- he can feel that pool of heat crackling in his lower belly. His blood buzzes in his ears as he fucks his hips forward, their skin slapping together sound in their little cabin. Her breasts bounce with each thrust he gives, she’s beginning to cum again from the ministration of his fingers, and Harry’s nearing the end of his rope. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he’s just a breath away from her ear, “You’re gonna make me cum.” 

He nibbles at the shell of her ear and lets his eyes flutter closed, his senses on overload. All he can hear, and taste, and smell, and feel is her. Dizzy and overwhelmed, Harry feels as if he may burst at the seams. 

“Cum,” she murmurs, “Please, I want you to feel good -- I want you to cum.” 

That’s all it takes -- the little push of her words has his hips stuttering as he cums, spurting long stripes between her thighs, some catching her skin, some landing on her sheets below them. His world fizzles out, static splinters through his body as warmth rushes through his veins, and his toes curl hard enough to lock up. As he comes back to, he giggles, the last of his orgasm drooling from the tip as he pushes a kiss to the back of Y/N’s head, “Stay still, lemme go get us a rag.” 

His legs feel like jelly when he stands, fleeing arse naked to the bathroom and returning moments later with warm, wet rags. He cleans her first, careful in how he works her underwear down her legs before he pats gently around her thighs and at her center. She’s sensitive, so a few times she twitches and flinches from him but eventually relaxes as she holds tightly to the pillow. He wipes himself off a bit haphazardly, more concerned with getting Y/N somewhere to lie down as he gently tugs on her arms, “C’mere, poor thing, I came all over your bed.” 

“Yeah, you jerk,” she says puckishly, letting him guide her over to his bed, climbing in and immediately snuggling beneath his covers. Harry is not too far behind her, and at first she snuggles up close to him, she hisses and squeals before trying to shuffle away, “Why are your feet like ice?” She asks him, her words accusing, like he’d come in the bed with intent to freeze her. 

Harry shrugs, “I dunno’ I usually wear socks to bed to keep them warm.” 

“Socks? To sleep?” She slowly wiggles her way closer to him, despite the words that follow, “I don’t think we can share a bed, you’re batty.” 

“Guess you’ll have to go sleep on the jizzy bed then.” 

Y/N laughs, and Harry feels it vibrate through his body as he holds her close to his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They’re quiet for a moment, as they both settle, taking deep, slow breaths, allowing themselves to slip towards sleep. 

Before Harry could get there, Y/N murmured his name. 

“Thanks for being my camp ‘husbad’.” 

Harry smiled to himself, and held her a little closer before he teased her. 

“You can say thank you next time with an 18 carat diamond.”  

#WRITING #WOOOOOOOOOOO #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT #YAHTZEE :D #IT WAS FUN TO WRITE #IM GONNA DO A SMALL PART 3 TO TIE THINGS UP IN A LITTLE BOW #HAPPY READING #harry smut

[yandere-wishes]

⭐Yandere Joestars⭐

(Parts 1-7 + Bonus Charcter: Joseph and Johnny’s characterizations are based off @dear-yandere​ ‘s interperations) I tried to write this mostly in the Joestars' POV. Their respective darlings resemble lifelike dolls rather than human beings to further illustrate how out of touch with reality the Jojos have become.

Warnings: Gore, kidnapping, dehumanization.

Edited: By the amazing Peri!! (@tealyjade-libran )

⭐Jonathan Joestar is possessive. ⭐

It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it...

It's an old saying, one that Jonathan remembers from an antique storybook his mother use to read him. It didn't mean anything back then, when he was still an infant too young and new, to fully comprehend what "owning" and "losing" was. But as the years ticked by faster than any clock could keep track of, things started to change. What had once been a passing quote in a chivalrous story about knights and dragons, soon turned into the epitome of Jonathan Joestar's life. 

Soon love wasn't about saving a princess or impressing the neighborhood girls with his boxing skills. No, all too soon love became about own and guarding. 

There may have been a time -long before "Jojo" and Dio met- when Jonathan was just like any other gentleman. Tender and sweet, flirtish at gatherings and charming in ladies' companies...but that was a Jonathan from a could-be-past that had been demolished the minute Dio Brando stepped foot onto the Joestar estate. From then on things depleted all so quickly. Everything Jonathan had come to unconsciously cherished had been so easily stripped from him by his beloved new "brother". 

Everything he loved had been killed, destroyed, or broken in some inhuman��way. His friends had abandoned him, his lover had distorted him, his father didn't even notice him...

"It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it". The second time he hears that phrase, it freezes him to the pavement, his body star-struck like he just received a message from the heavens. Although it's rather peculiar, why "heaven" would convey a message to him in such an unholy place. 

With Dio having practically kicked Jonathan out of the mansion and countryside. Jojo had no other place to go but the back allies of London. Sure he still tried to be home for supper and bedtime and any other time his father may get an inkling of his absence. But when there was no need to 'appear' Jonathan took to the London streets away from Dio and his lackeys. 

In fate's bizarre game, it's in a backstreet that reeks of days old licker and rotting flesh of paupers that no one has bothered to bury. That Jojo hears that life-defining idiom once more. His dulling sapphire blue eyes follow the mist of those melodious words. Staring until they're practically itching to cut through his sockets and run after those little words. But they stop right before they can leave their eyelets, they stop and stare at the figure that strolls out of the shadows, in such a way, that would make Jojo's father slap him across the face for being "barbarous".  

It's luck or fate or maybe even destiny that leads the heir of the Joestar legacy to meet his darling in the slums of England. 

"How my heart resonates when I lay my weary eyes on your enchanting face..."

There's an odd sweetness about the naivety that surrounds his little friend. A sort of innocence that comes with not knowing about the hell that he's gone through. It's charming in a moderate way, his darling can't come to despise him if they haven't got a clue who he is. Keeping both his worlds as far apart as possible is really the only option left. Dio and his friends can't hurt his new friend? Lover? Companion? In actuality, Jonathan really doesn't know what you are to him. At first, you're merely a distraction from his crumbling, lonely shell of an existence. A sort of invisible pillar holding up London's bridge before it collapses into the  River Thames. Sure he views you as another person, unlike the other noblemen Jonathan has no desire to treat you as anything less than a respectable young lady despite your social statutes. 

 Dio can have the noblemen and ladies, he can have all of George's affection and favor, Heck Dio can have the whole goddamn world for all Jonathan cares. So long as he has his darling, his sunflower, his only means for living, then he will be content. 

Jojo lost everything he once loved, but he swears it to every star in the night sky that'll preserve his darling from the wickedness that runs this cruel world. He'll cherish her while she's still in his arms...

He'll protect her, just like the knights did in the old bedtime stories his mother would tell him. 

"...I swear on my honor as a Joestar that I shall never lose you to the likes of anyone, I'll be a true gentleman, a true knight and I'll protect you from any who wishes cause you harm."

⭐Joseph Joestar is Protective and all so patronizing.⭐

Why must Love hurt so much?

It's solitude, pure utter solitude that attracts Joseph to his darling. Oh sure, he must have known them from an earlier time in his life, back when the words Hammon and Ripple just sounded like fancy dessert names. Back when he was still a naive kid wishing on every goddamn star that he could just meet one of his parents for a fraction of a second. Back when life was easy when everything made sense. That's when he first met his darling. Although all so many years ago he probably just thought of them as the little sister he never got a chance of having. 

There's a numbness growing inside him now that his life has slipped off its axes, hurling into unknown darkness that plagues him in the form of Pillarmen and red gems. 

Everywhere he looks there's a reminder that nothing's going back to the way it used to be. No waking up to Granny Erina's voice calling him down for breakfast, no running around chasing Old Man Speedwagon. Everything is gone, replaced by Lisa Lisa's brutal training and Ceaser's endless taunting. 

Day by day nothing changes, but once he looks back every little thing is different. Ruptured and mangled into something unrecognizable. 

But then there's his darling. Someone -or rather something- that's still the same. Just like before. Her smile is still the same as ever, bright and cheery as she runs up to him wrapping her arms around his abdomen muttering about how much she missed her "Dear Big Brother".

(Y/N) is a comfort, a familiarity in a strange new world. She's something so frail and vulnerable, not to mention naive. Thrusted into a world where horror writers don't dare venture into. It's so likely that she'd be captured by one of Kar's zombie vampire things or -even worse- charmed by Caesar’s silver tongue. 

It's thoughts like these that haunt Joseph at night, keep him up and wandering into her room just to gaze at her sleeping form. He's lucid enough to know how it might look. Like he's the bad guy trying to take advantage of a defenseless little girl. But he can justify his actions, he's her big brother, he has to watch over especially when she's at her most vulnerable. If Ceaser ever tried anything or some vampire freak snatched her away in the dead of night, Joseph would never forgive himself!

But what does he get for all his efforts? What does he get for all his sleepless nights and hours upon hours of worrying? Just a small smile and a fleeting kiss on the cheek. No sincere, "Thank you big brother," or, "You're my hero Joseph!" Nothing, nothing worthwhile anyway. 

Now it's a competition, a battle to the death if it has to be -funny how he takes this more seriously than his match against Wamuu.- He's competitive by nature and he's willing to do anything to earn his darling's affection once more. He doesn't care who he has to beat within an inch of their life so long as he can have his darling back in his arms.

There is an aftermath to all of these, once all the fighting has ended and the battle's won. Once Joseph has finally claimed his prize. There's a certain way his darling has to act. She’s got to smile and play the role of the dotting little sister once more. Just so Joseph can justify his actions...

"And your next line is, 'I love you more than anything else big brother Joseph!'...at least I wish it was." 

⭐Jotaro Kujo is cold and sadistic.⭐

Never learned how to love...

A lover by Jotaro's book is nothing more than a walking, talking doll. Someone who cooks meals, irons clothes, and kisses him on the cheek before he leaves for the day. Sure they have other uses, in flares of passionate moments, they're something to hold onto, another pair of limbs to get tangled in. Something hot and solid, someone to push down, to weigh his force on. 

That's it, that's all there is to it...

A lover and a convenient toy are one of the same. 

He knows it's wrong to think about someone that way. To deprive a living thing of all their thoughts and feelings just so it's suitable for him. But at the end of the day who wants to hear idle chatter and gossip or go outside for walks in crowded areas. All too social, it's all so troublesome. All Jotaro wants is a closed-off life, away from the scums of the earth...away from people in general. 

It's such an inconvenience to seek out a lover, to hassle through dates and meetups in hopes of finding someone that clicks. Jojo would even go so far as to call it wishful thinking. So it has to be a pure accident that he even meets his darling. They're just someone who gets tangled in with the crusaders. A perfect living perception of 'wrong place, wrong time'. Someone who's life gets blown to bits and shambles just because fate decided to play a cruel joke on them. 

And that's what piqued Jotaro's interest. The desperate, depleted look of pain cemented over their face. The sparse dying gleam of determination that blazes within their eyes. Oh, what Jotaro wouldn't do to snuff that little ray of hope. To watch as what little purpose they have is ripped from their arms. What he wouldn't do to see them in pain...

Pain is submission, that's really all Jojo wants. A darling submits, not out of their own free will, but because every little thing they've ever loved has been slaughtered, all that they cherished has been stolen from them. 

But it's not enough 

It's never enough

Although Jotaro adores the looks of anguish that decorates his lover's face. There's something more satisfying about maltreating them. About leaving marks all over, about leaving bruises that never lose their violet glow. He's claiming his darling, physically and mentally. Not a single day goes that Jotaro doesn't remind his lover who they belong to. From verbal taunts that plague his darling's mind day and night, to punches that break bones leaving them paralyzed on the floor begging for help, to cuts that are just a little too deep to ever heal properly. 

Even when his darling is behaving, even when the poor little thing does everything her lover tells her to do, there's still going to be some sort of violence directed at her. Some backhanded remark about how useless they are just because they couldn't follow his mother's recipe. Some sort of blow just for greeting him 'too late'. Trivial things morph into punishments, just for Jotaro's sick amusement.

At his core, Jotaro is an unresponsive man, one with no regard for how others feel. He's distant, it's a trait he can't change. He likes how he does things, how there's no room for slip-ups when it's only him. Even his darling isn't someone he'd consider opening up to. Their opinion of him doesn't matter and their feelings are irrelevant. Most days he's gone until the last possible moment, leaving his darling an endless amount of time to mull over every word and scar. 

But here's the catch.

As the clock ticks by, as the nights and days begin to merge into an endless existence, as all hope burns in the pits of hell, darling's mind is also going to stray. Ever so slowly losing its perception of reality. 

'Maybe' spiders begin to spin webs of doubt through darling's empty cranium. The isolation begins to bite at her skin like the razor-sharp fangs of frostbite. They start to crave Jotaro's harsh touches, they start to miss the venom-like words. Every insult and slap to the face is welcomed, all the misplaced anger and death threats start to feel like sweet kisses and flowery touches. 

Poor darling no longer sees big scary Jotaro as a monster. They've lost the ability to see him for what he truly is.

And what happens when Jotaro does finally come home? Oh, how little (y/n) will ravish in the gut kicks and loathsome words. How she'll take every beating with a sweet sugar-coated smile.

Cause this is her life now. A meaningless existence that revolves around Jotaro and his bleak personality. A life that's only worth living when Jotaro is around.

Is it even a life?

"Yare yare daze you're such a hassle, be glad I keep you around...”

⭐Josuke is obsessive with delusional tendencies.⭐

Maybe I'm the one you'll fall in love with next...

Just like his "father" Joseph, Josuke is stuck in a perpetual state between diaphanous and phantasm.

There's something all too wrong with Morioh nowadays. The narrow streets and verbose buildings have started to feel like a transparent cage. The town has always been small, barely reaching a population of 3,000 despite all the new families that keep moving in.

Nevertheless, everything has dulled, faded, and withered into a monochrome collage. The layers of repetitiveness had finally begun to pick at Joskue's nerves...

And yet somehow, by some diabolical twist of fate. In the mists of the oceans of familiarity, Josuke’s eyes grab onto some shimmering pearl lounged into between the crowd of familiar faces. 

Sure he's seen this girl before, but he's never actually seen her. Never stopped to look at the odd way their eyes twinkle like newborn stars or how their skin shimmers with the glow of a thousand suns. 

One second is all it took, a fleeting compliment as you passed by Jojo in the peppermint flavored afternoon. Your hair flowing like a tapestry of the galaxy as you disappeared in the crowd of dead pulsars. Not a care in the world, not for him, not for anyone.  

Destiny was definitely up to its old cruel tricks again. 

He's not stalking. Josuke will swear on his grandfather's grave that he'd never "stalk" a harmless little girl, like some distorted maniac. He just happens to bump into you at the beauty parlor when he's picking up a new brand of hairspray. And it's totally an accident when he meets you out in the abandoned fields! Honest! It's not his fault fate wants the two of you to keep meeting, it's not his fault that you guys are meant to be!

It's not technically a friendship that you two start to build up, it's far from one. Friends don't dream about sugar-filled kisses behind school walls. Or about ice cream that tastes like scandalous touches and candy induced moans. No, Joskue isn't your friend, he NEVER wanted to be your friend. He knows that! He knows what he wants...but with each passing day, he's beginning to doubt that you know that. 

He'd never realized he's been so sensitive on you. So entranced by your out of tune voice that muttered rather than spoke. He's seldom been so eager to throw a punch and crack his knuckles on someone's skull, just for saying you looked "lovely today". 

Whenever his eyes don't land on you, a rage-filled volcano bubbles in the pit of his gut, uncontrollable anger that festers inside of him, like lava waiting to spill out and burn anyone that wanders too close. His palms itch with the need to hold you, to feel your soft skin rubbing against his. 

The jealousy is always there, pricking at his skin like rose thrones. Until they inevitably cut through his flesh and make him lose his composure. He's ready to kick and punch and hurt and kill anyone that comes too close to you, anyone that saunters off their orbit and makes a beeline for you, disturbing the balance of solitude that Josuke so eagerly sets you into.

Sometimes in the dead of night, when the world has finally dozed off, Joskue's mind begins to wonder. He thinks the way he feels about you is the same way an addict feels about his drugs. Maybe to him, you're even more addicting than heroin and ecstasy...and yet he can't quit you, he just doesn't want to quit you. Nothing in this world could compare to your sweet voice that tickles his ear when you lean in, to whisper a secret, or the may your full lips move when you throw another honey-filled insult at him. 

He prefers when you're alone when he's the only one you talk to. 

Sure there are exceptions like everything in life, although in the end  

there's a sort of backhanded irony.

It's those exceptions that are going to hurt him in the. 

Josuke trusts his friends, he knows that Okuyasu and Koichi would never do anything to hurt him...

But you're not on that list and to be fair you're surely the only one who can truly hurt him.

You fall for a friend of his. Not him, not the boy that's been driving himself insane just to earn a smile from you, not the boy that let you get away with insulting his hair and poking insults at his look, not him never him, it just can't be him.

"You're like an older brother to me"...Did you wash your mouth with acid before you spat those words at him? Did you intend to lace your words with knives and blades and rubbing alcohol before you stabbed him? It's figurative, sure. But it might as well be literal. No pain, no cut, no punch from any stand would ever hurt so much! You really don't know what you do to him, do you?

"I'm happy for you," it's a lie, blank and simple. Automatic words that he's practiced in the mirror a thousand and one times. He'd rather watch you suffocate on your own blood than in the arms of another man. He'd rather break every bone in your body than watch you kiss one of his friends. 

How on earth had he ever come to love you? Someone as cruel and cold. Were you even human? You resembled some ice stand more than a flesh and blood person. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM.

He really hadn't meant for it to become an addiction, he hadn't meant to get all so used to the crunch of bones beneath his foot, and the bloodied lips quivering, shuttering out apologizes for having the gall to utter your name in his presence. But there's only so much a teenage boy can take, only so much torture that he can bury inside with a moonlight smile. 

Addictions really do funny things to semi-sane people, huh?

It's a split-second decision, done in the heat of an all so regular moment. It's just a simple half-hearted punch when you beat him at another videogame. Then another

And another

And another

Then a crack, another and another, and before either of you knew it you're on the floor screaming out in pure agony. 

Josuke vows he's not being cruel when he breaks your bones so delicately. He can justify every crack, every fracture. Although it's rather repetitive and in certain cases borderline petty. 

Five broken bones on your left leg just for "kissing" your new boyfriend. Your right leg is bent at an angle you're sure it's not meant to be. All because you hugged said new lover before going to class. 

Josuke's once liquidy blue eyes that held the softness of clouds have been dulled over by a sort of thick mania. His once soft touch is nothing but nails digging into already bruised tissue. His lips wobbling as stray tears flow past his eyes. Muttering apologies and stuttering curses at both you and himself.

It's not really like his darling can leave after that incident. Josuke is known around town as the boy with a diamond heart. There's no way in hell anyone will believe what he did to you. It's just better, safer, to stick close to him, to swallow the indignities and paint a loving smile over your face when you gaze into his depraved eyes. 

It's better to pretend to love him, rather than have another limb broken...

"Come on (Y/N), it's just a little crack. If you promise to give me a tiny kiss I'll let Crazy Diamond fix you right up."

⭐Giorno Giovanna is sneaky and manipulative. ⭐

Sono pazzo di te. Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata...

There's a sleekness to Giorno, a cunning that's hidden behind layers of charisma and charm mimicking that of his birth father's. It's so easy for him to fool his darling into believing that he's a charming prince from a storybook. He's the good guy trying all so damn hard to make his dream a reality. He's admirable, he's noble, he's Giorno Giovana, the golden boy.  

It's not like he ever intends to hurt his darling. He'd never dream of laying a hand on them, he's all too familiar with the wounds that come from endless beatings. The bruises and phantom pains, that get worse as the days slip by. He knows real pain, and unlike all so many others on both sides of his family, Giorno doesn't want his lover to experience an uncia of it. 

He'd never repeat what his stepfather and mother did to him. He's going to try and do everything he can to make sure that his darling is safe...

Because isn't that what's important? To make sure the one you love is safe. To make sure they don't get swept off their feet by some masquerading drunkard or taken advantage of by some fanciful sadist. 

Giorno will do anything to keep his darling safe, even if it means tampering with their mind a little. Nothing too serious, he'd never even considered changing anything about them. Although isolating them isn't completely off the table and a few verbal threats are fine from time to time. Just for precaution...

Giorno is a rather determined boy, he'll go to any lengths to isolate his lover. Scaring away friends by letting Gold Experience give them a small out of body experience. If they're persistent then he can't guarantee that that out-of-body experience will simply remain an experience much longer. It's not out of malice, but it's what must be done for the sake of his darling, the only other thing he cares about.

There's a shift, a difference between the young naive Giorno Giovanna, the golden boy with starry eyes, and the new boss of Passione, the Mafioso who holds the whole country in the palm of his hand. 

Oh sure, as a simple Soldato Giorno was dangerous in his own right. But Don Giorno? He's the sort of monster written about in the grimmest fairy tales. Wearing the appearance of a true king but underneath the luxury suits and priceless watches, he's just another greedy, fire-breathing dragon.

As the Don of Italy's most influential gang, Giorno's manipulation tactics have gotten rather ....hazardous. He doesn't have time to waste getting rid of every single person that poses a threat to his darling. If someone looks their way, he'll send some goons to take care of them. 

Although it's so much easier to keep his lover locked away, he even has the perfect excuse now. He's the head of the mafia, he has all so many enemies who jump at the opportunity to hurt him in some way. So he has to keep his defenseless little lover locked away in some mansion that's all so far away. 

He's also a bit more violent now. Giorno's more physical, ready to break a bone just for a wrong word or a cracked jaw from a punch for even asking to go outside. He blames it on the stress of running an organization...although it's more likely that all the power from passion has begun to rinse away Giorno's caring side. 

"Cuore mio, Resta con me per sempre"

⭐Jolyne Kujo is clingy and obsessive and delusional.⭐

I can't stay away from you...

Jolyne is a rather condescending yandere. Her rough ragged exterior does little to hide the clingy neediness that writhes inside her shattered heart.

She's soft, dependent, desperate at best. Wanting her darling to approve of every tiny trifling thing she does. Needing their words of praise and approving smiles to have the courage to live another day. 

At times it seems like the only thing keeping Jojo alive is the  "good girl!" and "I'm proud of you!" her darling throws her way. Chanting the words of praise with closed eyes and fluttering smiles of anxiety. 

It's difficult to make her sweetheart realize how virulent this relationship is, far too hard to call Jolyne a Yandere. The derogatory term applies to someone who ceases all control from their lover, who locks them in a basement, and throws away the key. It applies to murders and 

stalkers and lunatics that roam the streets in the dead of full moon nights. It applies to those who were thrown into Green Dolphin for a reason.

 Not to some girl whose life has been demolished over and over and over again. 

Not to the girl with a star birthmark that follows her darling around like a lost puppy in the freezing rain. 

But even Jolyn has her limits. She's been let down time and time again, abandoned and framed by those she thought she loved unconditionally. From friends to boyfriends to even her own father, everyone leaves, they take what they want, and then they leave. 

Flesh like strings, stitched into a web of antithesis and distraught moods, act as a  solid, interchangeable reminder of who really holds the power in this relationship. Of how Jolyne can go from needing her darling to controlling her darling in just a fraction of a heartbeat. She loves them, she swears she does...but they need to stay close to her, they need to only think about her. 

Her addiction gets worse as the days tick by. It's less romantic, less loving. Morphing into a dependency, a compulsion. Rotting thoughts of her darling suddenly leaving, plague her every waking moment. The once semi pleasant conversations between her lover and her friends, get cut off like a severed limb. 

Even Hermes and Foo Fighters aren't "good enough" to be around Jolyne’s lover. She's all so, scared they'll try to take them from her. Stealing the ONLY good thing in her life.

There's a certain degree of control that Jolyne's willing to give to her darling. A sort of freedom to make, revolting appalling choices, so long as they include her. A freedom to boss her around and make her submit. Her darling is free, so long as that freedom revolves around Jolyne.

"(Y/N)~ don't look at them! You should only focus on me! I'm supposed to be your world!"

⭐Johnny Joestar is sadistic and manipulative.⭐

Arrogance disguised as affection...

It's all degradation, all harsh words that sting worse than bullet wounds. Glares from dull wicked blue eyes that might as well kill, cause it's better than the alternative. Smirks that make being alive so damn distasteful. Kisses that engrave the lingering taste of rotting lead into your tongue.

Johnny isn't sweet, he doesn't smile at his little sweetheart. He doesn't pat their head and kiss their temples while uttering sweet nothings into their blushing ear. No, his lover doesn't deserve a honey-coated life. They don't deserve to have what was stolen from him by his so-called "loved ones". Instead, he uses them as a living dart board, for both his acid-laced words and bullet-like fingernails. 

There's no love when it comes to Jojo. He doesn't want to waste time on something so frivolous as a "significant other". But he does like having someone -or rather something- to play with, a form of entertainment that bends at his will. Not a pushover, not someone who's too proud either. But a living doll that can take a few verbal spats and survive an armada of fingernail bullets through the stomach. 

Oh, sure he wants to break them, having a toy that's so conflicted, that questions their own sanity is so much more fun. But it's the intervals that count. Johnny wants to be the one to break his darling. To engrave the helpless look of distress into his memory. He wants to preserve every scream, every tear. That's the whole purpose of even keeping a darling. 

Johnny rarely lets his darling out of his sight. It's so much easier to play with their mind if he's the only one they ever talk to. They'll become so easily dependent on him if he's their only companion. Although sometimes Gyro can get a little too touchy and friendly. And there will be occasions when Hot Pants start to pry into the darling and Jojo's personal life. But the incidents are few and far between. Not like Johnny minds, if anything these minor secondary "meetups" are useful to the paraplegic jockey. They refill his darling with the most precious thing..." Hope". Just so Johnny can beat it out of them all over again.  

There's a darkness that resides deep within Johnny. A toxicity that laces his actions. His life is miserable and he's damn well sure it'll always be that way.....

So why not take his lover down with him?

"Don't you love me darlin' ? Cause I certainly don't love ya."

⭐Jorge Joestar is delusional and obsessive.⭐

What if we lost our minds, together?

A love story better than his parents, that's all Jorge wants. Flower field dates, and quick lingering kisses before midnight. Something sweet, that doesn't have a macabre end. A romance without body-snatching vampires and zombies that shed their flesh. Something normal, gentle, lovable. 

Although with the family he's been born into and the kind of things that keep finding him. Jorge doubts he's ever going to get such a hopeful love life. He's all so desperate to carve a life for himself outside of his family's shadow, but in the end, it's simply eager wishing. 

He's not exactly sure what he's even looking for in a lover. Someone sweet but strong-willed, an average answer. Someone who bears a sort of resemblance to Lisa Lisa. Not physically but rather mentally, he's not a coward, he swears he's not, but he just wants someone who can protect him. A fair exchange in his eyes. His lover will guard him against the bullies and freaks of the island and in turn, he'll protect them from the grim ghouls that run amok through the world. Although when push comes to shove he isn't sure if he'll really be 'protecting' his lover or running away and hiding somewhere with them.

He just wants to fall in love and not go insane, a reasonable request, if he hadn't seen the worst that the world has to offer. It's just wishful thinking, sweet dreams for a boy designed to attract trouble. 

He doesn't want to have conversations with his dead lover's head. He doesn't want to wear their skin and waltz around town. He doesn't want any of that creepy, supernatural stuff that destroyed his parent's love. 

He just wants normal. But as the years slip by Jorge's grip on "normal" slowly begins to decay.

Normal is something, but what that something is has become a blur. Normal isn't vampires and zombies and ghost clowns that throw nooses around people's necks...Yet on the other hand maybe it is? 

He's so far gone that he can't even differentiate between methodical and irregular. His brain's capacity to understand the difference has gotten so altered and broken.

Once he finds his darling he does try to act like the ordinary people of the Canary Islands or England, depending on where he's residing at the time. He tries to follow the mode, just to impress his lover. It's a façade, a bloody masquerade that's bound to deteriorate once he and his lover have settled down.

Although a poetic, domestic life had always been Jorge's dream, he soon comes to learn that it just doesn't suit him. Jorge's paranoia starts to increase. It's comical at first, the way his eyes dart to closed doors, half expecting a killer to emerge. Although the same paranoid tendencies can become rather smothering at times. He's all so certain something is going to jump out of the shadows, some creature with sharp fangs and knife-like claws is going to rip his lover's body to rags. 

He's gotten rather umbrageous now that he's the one who's married and living in the Joestar estate. His tendency to run away from any form of conflict has morphed into a rogue-like sense, much similar to a rabid dog barking at anyone who gets too close to its territory. He keeps his darling locked away inside, triple-checking the locks to make sure no one or thing can get in. He avoids the probing disquieting neighbors who still speak ill of his widowed mother and murmurs about the "curses" bestowed on the Joestar bloodline. Sometimes even getting physical when the insults shift towards him and his new lover. 

Punches are thrown.

Insults exchanged.

And then the door and windows are locked once more.

Leaving both Jorge and his darling in the chilling company of the semi alive shadows.

It's safer in the basement. It has to be safer down there. After all his mother kept his father's severed head down there for decades before anyone found it. So it's only sensible that his lover will also be safe, tucked away in the darkness of a brick room some few meters under the earth. He's not acting like his mother -and deep down he prays that this isn't something his late father would ever even consider doing- It's a thin line of justification, but he can reason with himself so long as he knows it's not something his other family members have ever done. He does try to keep his darling comfortable down there. Buying them the most luxurious furniture and comfortable bedding. Constantly bringing them new forms of entertainment. 

Keeping them in this preserved state is what any reasonable person would do. Not just another insanity driven Joestar.

"It's for your own safety" he's repeated that phrase an umpteenth amount of times, although every time the sculpted words leave his tongue, Jorge becomes less sure of who he's really trying to convince. 

Jorge is all so sure that he's doing all of this for both his lover's safety and to erase whatever misfortune follows around the Joestars, like an airy plague. Even his enrolling for the great war is done with this mindset...

Even though in the end it's also this mindset that gets him killed. Leaving his darling a wide window to freedom. 

"Darling, what do you think when you look at me?"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

#yandere jotaro kujo #yandere jonathan joestar #yandere josuke higashikata #yandere joseph joestar #yandere giorno giovanna #yandere jolyne cujoh #yandere johnny joestar #yandere jorge joestar #jorge joestar #johnny joestar x reader #jolyne cujoh x reader #yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere giorno giovanna x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #joseph joestar x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventures x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere x you #yandere jotaro kujo x reader #yandere jonathan joestar x reader #yandere josuke higashikata x reader #yandere joseph joestar x reader #yandere jolyne cujoh x reader #yandere johnny joestar x reader

[aomineavenue]

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: completed. | series masterlist

↩ at peace | dearest daddy

mia speaks!: 

okay, wow. So it took awhile for us to get here and I apologize for that but we’re finally done with Homesick, wew. It’s been a challenge but I’m so happy and grateful for all the positivity you guys have been sharing with me. Also, thank you so much for your patience. 

It’s been an emotional ride but we’re finally done. There may be a few short stories after this chapter but no promises. Hopefully I get the chance to though, I do want to be able to. But for now, if you guys have any requests for imagines/scenarios with this series, don’t be afraid to send them over!

Also, big thanks to @oii-sugasan​ and @sunshinesero​ for beta-reading this for me! I apologize if this chapter is any way lacking compared to the first nine chapters, it’s been awhile since I wrote anything so I hope this was a great way to end this series. 

I love you guys so much, I’m so glad to be (sorta) back. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Time was a funny and fickle thing. Sometimes there was never enough of it, and other times it stretched out endlessly. It had been seven months since your life had once again made drastic changes. It often surprised you how time flew by so fast.

Seven months since your two precious boys had been introduced to the man that they now call their father. And well, seven months since you had been reunited with the love of your life. Sure, it had ups and downs, it wasn’t bound to be perfect since the two of you were your own person. It was inevitable for such different personalities to clash, it didn’t help when there were two children present, one of them being as handful as their own father.

Atsumu had shown that he was a doting father, despite only being a part of their lives for less than a year, he had put his new family as his top priority, wanting to make up for lost time. He would instantly drop anything and everything, sometimes even volleyball when he could for times when his family needed him. Not that his new family had been a burden since then, his sons and of course you, have been nothing but loving and supportive. Showing up to games to cheer him on and the twins attending his training to either join or just watch their father and new favorite uncles.

It had been a rollercoaster ride since it was officially announced that Atsumu was off the market and that he actually had sons. Some fans were supportive, believing the news and claiming that both the young twins were striking replicas of the volleyball player. And of course, there were fans that were against it, raging how you were nothing more than a money-grabbing harlot and that you had probably lied to Atsumu about the twins being his.

They were quickly shut down, of course, by not just fans but various people close to the volleyball setter who defended you without you even asking for it. You weren’t going to lie, that particular month filled with venomous words thrown your direction stressed you out but it was mostly because of your motherly instincts, wanting to keep your sons away from such unnecessary drama. You and Atsumu had decided to ignore the majority of the vile comments but seeing you so emotionally exhausted had only fueled the already tiny flame in Atsumu. He was quick to announce that he would no longer tolerate any form of slander towards his family and would handle things legally if anyone were to step out of line.

And by the next few weeks, the hate simmered and the stress that had engulfed you and Atsumu in its grip had vanished. All that was left that made you both worry was Atsuhiro’s health.

Fortunately, Atsuhiro’s sickness didn’t grow worse as time passed by since his first transfusion. If anything, the boy was healthier and it was very much evident in his features. The healthy glow returned to his skin, he was smiling more and had shown his usual energetic-self like before he had fallen ill. Atsumu on the other hand, much to Atsuhiro’s dismay, had started becoming such an overprotective father. It took a lot of begging from Atsuhiko for their father to spend the day outside of the protective bubble of your apartment.

It took time and patience from everyone’s side to get this far, and for Atsumu, (and of course, you) he didn’t mind it one bit. He had grown more mature, despite his twin brother’s disagreements, he not only took care of himself more but he had become a role model to his sons.

Not only that, but as his relationship with his sons grew stronger, the love the two of you had for each other only seemed to intensify as well. Sure, the two of you had ups and downs back then in your friendship but it was as if time and distance hadn’t kept the two of you apart. If anything, it was as if it made your bond stronger. Two best friends, reuniting and finally expressing their true desires, it was easy for the two of you to fall into a comfortable routine.

“Where are the boys of the hour? I’ve been wanting to see how good Hiko looks in my jersey!”

Bokuto interrupts your thoughts for a brief second before you return your focus to your duties of cutting up the vegetables in the kitchen. You can’t help but chuckle at the sour expression that graces Atsumu’s expression as he fills a tray of refreshments on one of the island counters. “Don’t remind me, Bo-kun.”

“You’re just jealous that your sons didn’t want to wear your jersey," he teases, a playful grin on his lips as he lifts himself off of the ground by his hands to sit on the counter.

The scowl on Atsumu's face only deepens at the reminder, "Get off the counter, Bo-kun. Don't be rude. Why don't you actually start to help and give out these refreshments to the guests?"

You watch in amusement as the two exchange their usual banter around the kitchen of your home in Hyogo. It was decided a week ago after Atsuhiro's second transfusion was a success, that the twins would celebrate their birthday back at Hyogo instead of having the guests cramp up in your small apartment in Kanagawa.

It was also then decided by your sons what theme they would be having for their birthday. It was traditional for the twins to have their birthdays themed depending on their current interest. Lately, since the two were very fixated on volleyball due to their new favorite uncles and of course, their father, it was decided that they would be having a volleyball themed birthday where the guests were required to wear their favorite player's jersey.

For a minute, your new friend Bokuto had been rather excited upon hearing the idea.

"So show up with our own jerseys? Great!"

And as for Atsumu, he was excited at the prospect of seeing his own sons wearing his jersey. That is, until his sons destroyed such dreams.

"Are the two of you really sure?" you hear Atsumu's voice echoing from the twins' bedroom throughout the walls of the apartment as you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you as you ventured further into the comforts of your home. “Like really? Those are your choices?”

You grew curious as you slipped out of your shoes and let your hair loose from its tight bun, wincing slightly from your tugging. There was a tinge of whininess dripping from Atsumu’s voice that you couldn’t help but wonder what the three of them were talking about. It wasn’t unusual for Atsumu to be around when you had to work on days where the boys came home from school or when they didn’t have school.

At most times, when Atsumu didn't have training, he would be the one taking care of the boys instead of your mother or Osamu. Majority of his free time away from volleyball was spent with his sons, wanting to make up for the time he had lost. And there wasn't a day where the young twins wouldn't ask about their father and if he was going to visit. It was as if they were scared one of them would disappear, wanting to spend the entirety of their lives together.

"Maybe we can go with superheroes this year!" Atsumu's voice grew louder as you reached the door to the room where they occupied. Leaning against the door's frame, your eyes land on the back of Atsumu's head as he's seated on the carpeted floor facing the twins who were playing with their action figures. A small grin curling upon your lips at the sight of Atsumu’s slightly dishevelled bleached hair.

Atsuhiro, who seems to have the ability to sense your presence, looks up from his toys and in an instant, his eyes widen happily. He was about to greet you but you quickly pressed your index finger against your lips to signal the little boy not to announce your presence just yet, wanting to see Atsuhiko and Atsumu's interaction. The smart little boy that he is, nods and returns to his toys.

"But daddy," Atsuhiko protests, his focus still on the action figures in his hands, "We did superheroes last year! I wanna wear Uncle Bo's jersey!"

You fight the urge to burst out into a fit of giggles as soon as you catch a glimpse of Atsumu slumping his shoulders dejectedly. Now you understand as to why he had his moppy voice on. "But don't you want to wear daddy's jersey for your birthday?"

"But daddy," Atsuhiko lets out a sigh, looking up at his father with a look that meant the little boy wasn't up for any arguments on the matter, "Uncle Bo is the best! So I wanna wear his jersey!"

You could have sworn you heard Atsumu whine, suddenly wishing you had decided to film this from the start. "But it will make daddy really happy if you wear his jersey!"

Atsuhiko shakes his head as he continues to play with his action figures, "But I want Uncle Bo and I to match!"

Atsumu sighs in defeat before turning his attention over to Atsuhiro, looking hopeful. "What about you, Hiro? Would you wear daddy's jersey?"

"No, daddy. I wanna wear Kageyama-san's jersey," he nods with a proud smile, "Wanna be just like him! He's so good!"

"But daddy's just as good a setter as Tobio-kun!" Atsumu cries out, throwing his hands up in the air, "betrayed by my own children. 'Samu isn't going to let me live this down."

This time, you let your presence be known by finally releasing a bubble of laughter. Atsuhiko instantly drops his action figures and rushes over with a happy squeal. Atsumu pivots his body, looking up at you with such a pitiful gaze as he juts his lower lips out ot a pout, "I want new children."

Needless to say, Atsumu had been pouty ever since and has been dreading today due to the reason that every single one of his friends had found out about it. He had tried a handful of times to change their minds, unfortunately, the young twins won't budge.

“It’s not my fault your kids like me better than you,” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest, “I am an ordinary ace after all!”

A scowl graces on Atsumu’s features which causes the other occupants in the room to chuckle in amusement. It wasn’t as if Atsumu didn’t like the idea of his sons becoming close to his teammates, but lately, it was getting harder for the setter to share. “Get your own children!”

“Ah, about that...” Bokuto trails off with a nervous chuckle which causes everyone to fall silent and look at him in curiosity, “I actually will be getting my own child soon, I think.”

“You think?” you ask with an arched brow, “You can’t just think you’re having a child, Bokuto-san.”

Atsumu interjects, “And aren’t you in love with that best friend of yours? What happened to never being with anyone else but her?”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with a frown etched on his lips, “Well, I can’t exactly be with her when she just got married.”

“You are so getting your ear torn off by the management when this news gets out,” Atsumu snickers, which he earns a smack to his shoulder from you. “Ow!”

You narrow your gaze at your boyfriend, completely unamused with his behavior. “Don't be dramatic, I didn't hit you that hard!" Letting out a huff as you wipe your hands on the apron you were wearing, "You aren’t helping Bokuto, ‘Tsumu.”

His lips curl up to a cheeky grin at the sight of your expression. He leans forward to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, your cheeks growing warm from the public display of affection. His heart swells from your reaction to his gesture, murmuring teasingly, “Sorry, darling.”

“Please, don’t make me barf.” Osamu interrupts with his features scrunched up in distaste from the interaction between you and his brother.

Atsumu sticks his tongue out at his brother who returns the gesture with a shake of his head. His arm snakes around your waist to pull you closer to his side as he returns his attention over to his teammate, “Well, is the woman making you marry her?”

“Making you pay for child support?” Osamu quickly adds.

Atsumu quips with a chuckle, “Threatening to expose your sins?”

You interrupt the two with a glare towards them, “Stop ganging up on him!”

Bokuto lets out a laugh as he begins helping your mother set up the desserts onto one of the trays to bring outside to the guests, “Nothing like that, she’s pretty chill and we’ve gotten pretty close lately. So we’re going to co-parent.”

“That’s very mature of you, Bokuto-kun.” your mother compliments him with a smile before patting his back.

He feels his cheeks grow warm from the compliment, his heart swelling with pride. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you’ll end up falling for her anyway,” Osamu teases with a smirk playing on his lips, leaning against one of the kitchen counters.

He shakes his head at the idea as his brows knit together, “Jess and I won’t fall in love.”

“Jess?” Atsumu blinks at the familiar name before his eyes widens at the realization, releasing his grip from your waist, “Jess, that journalist that you showed around town when she first visited Japan?”

Bokuto nods with a smile gracing his features, “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe you’ll learn to love her in your own way through your child,” you suggest with a shrug of your shoulders as you began untying the apron you were wearing upon realizing what time it was.

Atsumu shakes his head and responds before Bokuto could utter a single word, “No, no. That’s impossible. Bo-kun’s heart belongs to his best friend.”

“Stop teasing him,” you scold your boyfriend with a shake of your head, handing over the apron you successfully took off, “make yourself useful and help out here in the kitchen,"

"Bu—"

Cutting him off with a stern glare as you lift a tray from one of the kitchen counters and handing it over to Bokuto, a small smile gracing your lips, "Don't mind him, Bo. Can you bring these to the backyard and help out if anyone else needs help? I think Reiji needs a hand setting up the bouncy castle,"

Retrieving the tray from your hands, his eyes lighting up from the excitement, "bouncy castle, you say?"

"That's for the kids, Bo-kun." Atsumu scoffs but soon lets his lips form into a pout when he had been ignored, turning his attention over to you once Bokuto slips out of the kitchen, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to check on the boys to see if they're ready for their big entrance," you muse with an amused grin. Of course, you knew what your sons had prepared for the big entrance that they insisted. Atsumu had pestered both you and the young twins since he had heard of their plan but as your sons refused to budge, you had feigned clueless, claiming that your sons had opted it to be a surprise.

Little did Atsumu know that you had helped your sons pull off such an idea.

"I don't get why they have to have a big entrance," he sighs, brows furrowing as he racks through his thoughts on what the surprise could be. It didn't help that he was both curious and excited at what his sons might pull off.

Osamu lets out a snort, rolling his eyes at his twin brother as a smirk curls upon his lips, "What do you mean? They're your kids."

"What does that even mean?" Atsumu scowls as he slips on the apron you had handed over, walking over to where your mother was situated to take over what you were doing.

You shake your head at the two bickering older twins and shoot a look of sympathy towards your mother that was going to be left with them in the kitchen before she waves you off. Your heart was swelling from happiness at how natural everything felt, despite the silly banter thrown around. It was home.

As you step into your childhood living room, you're hit with a nostalgic wave from the memories surrounding the whole area. Though it may be a mixture of good and bad memories, since you had come to terms that you were no longer running away from your past, you only feel comfort. You made your way through your childhood home over to the bedroom that had been renovated to the liking of your twin boys.

The mere thought of your boys growing to love the place where you had grown up yourself was enough to bring a smile to your face. You press your knuckles against the wooden door to signal your presence by knocking on it repeatedly, “Are you two ready?” you ask, your voice probably muffled on the other side. Your fingers wrap around the handle of the door and as you were about to twist and push it open, the door instantly snaps back shut with a loud thud. “Can’t-”

“No, mommy!” Atsuhiko screeched causing you to blink from both the surprised force and tone. Pressing your palms and ear against the door to hear what the commotion was all about, you frown upon hearing only their shuffling feet, “What are you two doing? Guests have arrived and your party will be starting soon,”

“We’re almost ready, mommy!” Atsuhiro assures you from the other side.

A chuckle escapes your lips at their antics as you decide to not interfere any further, “Alright you two, just be sure to be out in a few. You don’t want your daddy to come fetch you. It’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Okay mommy!” you heard Atsuhiko yell out, their excited muffled voices purely obvious from the other side that you couldn’t help but smile.

On the other hand, back in the kitchen, the father of your twins was having his own little dilemma back in the kitchen. It wasn’t as if he was uncomfortable being around your mother, but it was more like he felt he was still lacking.

Despite him knowing that your mother and you hadn’t had the greatest relationship when your father passed away, he still wanted to be someone your mother would approve of. He didn’t know whether your mother knew the whole story of the relationship between the two of you but being away from you and your sons during most of their childhood was enough to make him worry. The mere idea of his sons looking up to him sent his heart soaring, but of course, he also wanted your mother to feel secure enough for him to be together with you and the twins.

“I’ll bring out these sliced up fruits outside,” Osamu cuts the clear tension surrounding the kitchen. Atsumu resists the urge to glare at his twin for leaving him behind with your mother, knowing full well that his brother knows his current insecurities. A small smirk graces Osamu’s features but not the obvious one that would make your mother notice.

Atsumu watches his twin slip out of the kitchen with a tray full of food for the guests before flickering his gaze over to your mother situated at the other side of the room, making final touches to the cupcakes. “Is there anything else that I can do?”

Without looking up, a smile etches on your mother’s face. “No, it’s fine. We’re just about done with everything.”

“It looks good,” he states with a nod of his head, not really knowing what to say.

Placing the piping bag to the side, your mother lifts her head up to look towards the direction of Atsumu and wipes her hands on the apron she’s currently wearing, “You know you can always start calling me mom.”

The mere sentence made Atsumu want to leap in excitement, but at the same time he was nervous, a sudden fear of messing things up engulfing him. “I don’t want to overste-”

“Oh please,” your mother waves her hand in the air with a light chuckle, “I’ve known you since you were eight. We’re practically family. So you might as well call me mom.”

Atsumu couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth tug up to a wide smile, “Alright, mom.”

“I’m really happy that the two of you decided to work things out,” your mother spoke with a smile as she delicately places the cupcakes on the cupcake stand.”

His feet shuffled across the room to help your mother stack the cupcakes onto the stand, “We had to for the kids anyway.”

Your mother hums in thought for a second before responding, “I think the kids were just the push the two of you needed. If anything, I’ve always thought the two of you would always end up together since the two of you always leaned on each other for anything.”

He nods his head slowly, leaning against the counter as he feels his heart swell with happiness. “I guess you’re right, mom. I did lean on her majority of the time when we were growing up. I guess I still am now. I just wish I could make her happy.”

“Don’t worry, you do. Before she left Hyogo, I know for a fact that she was miserable in this house after her dad had passed. You were the only one giving her a reason to move forward,” your mother spoke, sadness dripping from her voice.

A sigh escapes Atsumu’s lips as his features scrunch up to something that resembles pain. “I was also the reason why she left. I may be even the biggest reason why she left.”

Your mother extends an arm out and places a hand on Atsumu’s arm, trying her best to give assurance and comfort, “You weren’t the only reason behind that. I don’t know if she’s told you, but I had neglected her. I’m not proud of it and apologies are probably never enough for forgiveness. I was barely a mother when my husband had passed. I was almost an empty shell and instead of being a moth-”

“Mom,” Atsumu cuts her off and grabs hold of her hand in his own, “Don’t blame yourself. She loves you very much. It’s all in the past. We’ll be able to move forward, we already are.”

The two were interrupted with Osamu’s arrival, knocking by the kitchen’s door frame to announce his return. A smile etched on his lips at the scene before him, “Hey, Y/N wants everyone in the living room. Apparently the boys are ready to make their big entrance.”

Your mother excuses herself as soon as she removes the apron tied around her, excitement clearly evident in her features. Atsumu knew it well, despite the relationship that you had been slowly rebuilding with your mother, she was just as excited as him to have the twins into her life. She has equally doted on, if not more, on the twins ever since and well, Atsumu wouldn’t have it any other way.

Atsumu knew for a fact that you adored the time you’ve been sharing with your mother. As long as you were happy, nothing else mattered.

Osamu gives him a pat on the back, arching a brow in curiosity as they make their way out of the kitchen, “Everything alright?”

Atsumu gives him a nod, giving him the largest grin that he could muster. “Yeah, definitely.”

“You look disgusting,” Osamu jokes, pretending to shudder which causes Atsumu to give him a shove as they step into the living room where most of the guests have already gathered.

“Hey ‘tsumu!” Bokuto calls out from next to you as soon as Atsumu comes into view. “Hurry up! I’m excited to see Hiko in my jersey!”

Atsumu rolls his eyes as he approaches, grumbling to himself. As soon as he reaches your side, he places a quick kiss to your temple before snaking an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Yeah, yeah. You have to stop rubbing it in. We get it.”

You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape your lips as you lean yourself into Atsumu’s warmth, “Oh come on now you two, focus on the big entrance will you?”

Bokuto just snickers from the side while Atsumu sends him a glare. If you were to describe the two of them, they were practically acting like petty children but you know those two will eventually switch attitudes as soon as your twins step out to make their entrance.

You flicker your gaze over to Osamu who was situated a few steps ahead from your little group, trying his best to act natural with his phone up. The two of you had discussed prior to the party that he would be the one to film the whole thing going on. Your little boys had practically begged their uncle to film their big entrance but mostly, what you hoped Osamu to capture was Atsumu’s reaction.

A part of you expects that he would be a grinning mess at the sight of his kids but also, you’re also hoping he’d be speechless from all the teasing his kids put him through of having to wear someone else’s jersey.

“What’s taking them so long?” Atsumu asks, tilting his head slightly hoping to meet your eyes as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt.

As you were about to answer him, the familiar voices of your two boys echo throughout the room from the top of the stairs. You didn’t even have to look to know about their surprise since you know very well of what they had planned. Well, obviously, you had helped them out with picking up the jerseys that they were going to wear.

However, you had wanted to capture Atsumu’s reaction to your boys with your own two eyes instead of just watching it from a video. And honestly speaking, you didn’t think you’d fall in love with this man any more than you already do but here you are.

Just the mere sight of his features scrunching up to a look of awe was enough for your heart to swell. It looked as if he was close to tears as watches the twins descend the stairs with the prodest smiles they could muster.

You pry yourself away from his side as soon as the twins approach Atsumu, knowing full well what was going to happen as they had practiced what they were going to say. Flickering your gaze over to Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro, seeing them in Atsumu’s high school volleyball jersey made your own eyes water despite the fact that you were the ones who had gotten them the uniform a week ago.

“Wh-What are you guys wearing?” Atsumu almost chokes out his words, “What happened to the jerseys that we bought that you said you were going to wear?”

Atsuhiko throws his arms out in the air, smiling widely. “We changed daddy!”

“We wanna wear your jersey daddy,” Atushiro nods his head enthusiastically, lifting his hand up to grip onto Atsumu’s shirt.

Atsuhiko wraps his arms around Atsumu’s waist, “‘cause you’re our favorite volleyball player daddy!”

The scene itself was enough for everyone to watch in awe, a few of the guests that were invited had their own phones up to capture the moment with smiles on their faces, the others were almost practically in tears themselves, and well there was also Bokuto by the side with his pouty self at the realization that neither of his nephews were wearing his jersey like he thought they would. Atsumu on the other hand, had eventually dropped down to his knees and wrapped his arms around his two boys, burying his face in between them as he let out his own tears stream down his face from the overwhelming joy that coursed through him.

Yes, this is your family.

This is your home.

You stare out the window from the kitchen of your childhood home, a smile on your face at the beautiful afternoon of your backyard full with people you adore and have missed so much. 

The party was still in full swing despite the sun about to set, the laughter from the guests and a few children present rang in the air. Happiness had engulfed your heart and honestly, you had trouble believing it yourself but here you were. 

You wouldn’t trade this for anything. 

An arm snakes around your waist from behind and you would have been startled if you hadn’t felt Atsumu’s presence a minute ago. Despite not having seen each other in years, everything about him was still familiar. Sure, there were a few things about him that you didn’t know but that didn’t mean that he still wasn’t your Atsumu that you’ve grown to love. 

“Thank you,” he whispers as he nuzzles his nose into your hair, a smile playing on his lips. 

You place your hands atop of his and lean yourself back into his warmth, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you thanking me for?” 

“For everything,” he lets out a sigh, causing a shiver to run down your spine from the heat radiating from his breath close to your ear, “For giving me two amazing boys and for existing yourself.” 

Pivoting your body around so that you were facing Atsumu, your hands settling on his chest as you look up at him with your lips curling up to an assuring smile, “Thank you.” 

“And what for?” Atsumu questions, matching your own smile with his own as his hands cup your face. He lowers his head slowly, nudging your nose with his own as the pads of his thumbs brush delicately against your skin. 

Heat spreads across your cheeks at his gestures, feeling shy yourself but despite that, the majority of what you felt was only comfort in being in his arms. “For loving me as much as I love you.” 

He hums in response, placing a quick kiss to your lips. “No, I probably do love you more. More than you can imagine.” 

Before you could respond, he places his lips back firmly on yours and your eyelids flutter shut as if on instinct. The hands of yours that were resting on his chest eventually found their way around his torso to pull him close. Tilting your head to the side, the kiss itself deepens as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

It just felt so natural being with him.

Before the kiss could grow more heated however, a loud yell from outside had interrupted the both of you causing you to pull away much to both of your dismay. Your heads turn towards the direction of the commotion, the bouncy castle coming into view.

Or rather, the depleting bouncy castle with Bokuto and Hinata coming out hastily in laughter. 

You shake your head at the scene, a bubble of laughter leaving your lips before turning your head back over to look at the man before you. Just when you had decided to pull back and return to your duties of being a mother, he wraps his arms back around your waist to pull you back against him. Another laugh escapes your lips as you playfully slap his chest, “What now? We have a party going on, we have to entertain our gue-” 

“Move in with me,” he interrupts, his features showing nothing but seriousness. 

You meet his sincere gaze with your own and your heart makes a leap out of joy. There was only one answer you could possibly give. 

“Yes.”

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya #homesick #atsumu miya smau

[bokugaos]

Afloat

length: 2.3k

tags: nsfw; pwp, daichi x f!reader x kuroo, threesome, masturbation, fingering, mating press, creampie

a/n: tis a long (literally 2 months eye— sorry > overdue piece for my babe ;; my ride-or-die @mrs-kuroojinguji​ ana, kuroodai’s main!! ilysm bitch ♡ ♡  bc HEEEEY NEW YEAR, NEW ME !! no more procr-ass-tinating ╰(*´︶`*)╯

It’s simple:

They know how to make you feel good.

They’re the only ones who can make you feel that good.

The thing is, although you want it, and need it, and when you get it you simply melt, it’s hard for you to admit it to himself or to anyone else. Even when you can sense it spreading down to your core, crawling under your skin in the way that you get too snappy, when you start getting antsy while preparing for your tests, when you carry around the sleepless nights of the busy weeks of your projects with the drooping line of your shoulders.

You go through so much, thinking you can and should be able to deal with everything on your own. But time and time again, Daichi reminds you that’s not the case. He knows that you can do anything you set your mind to; but he will always be there to help you de-stress and take your mind off things.

He had an arrangement with Kuroo, established long before this came to light. A product of long days and nights spent trapped in the same places together despite their different jobs. They're friends, secure in the knowledge that they’ve got each other’s back no matter what. Neither would cross the line unless it’s called for. And Daichi did call it.

When Kuroo first showed up, he had walked in on the two of you with slick mouths all over each other. You were clueless as ever and Daichi was frozen in place—he was prepared that Kuroo wouldn’t come—but the man crossed the distance with impatient strides. 

Now, they both keep you afloat.

And you don’t always need this kind of attention—they’re simply more than happy to provide it.

Now if only you would stop being such a brat about it. Even when you’re already so wet, even when Kuroo has already pried you open and stuffed you with his fingers, you still want to talk back.

Good thing they like a challenge.

You’re pulling away, crawling to the edge of the bed to reach for Daichi, but your effort is rendered futile the moment Kuroo curls his big hand around your ankle and pull you back down the bed with a kind of ease that has your stomach tied in knots and put a satisfied smile on the other man’s mouth while he palms his cock.

Kuroo chuckles, curling an arm around one of your thighs and flips you back around until you’re on your side, leg helplessly hooked around the bend of his elbow.

“How naughty,” he purrs at you. He shuffles closer, fingers of his other hand diving back down to your well-slicked hole. “Need to be taught a lesson, maybe?”

You’re torn between shaking your head and scowling fiercely but your already heated cheeks are going even darker with a flush. Your eyes are glittering as you look back at him, glancing at the strong line of his jaw to the wide set of his shoulders. You turn to stare at Daichi instead, his thighs, and quickly look away again—caught looking—when he flexes for you.

Kuroo smirks and shuffles closer. His cock is flushed and rigid, swelling a bit fatter than usual; though not as girthy as what Daichi is packing, its length could reach the sweetest spots inside you that make you shake uncontrollably.

He takes himself in hand and starts dragging its head against your nice little pussy you have offered up before nerves got to you and you try to be cheeky.

Daichi is watching from the side of the bed, gloriously naked and cock in hand; eyes travelling as much across your tiny body as they are tracing Kuroo and his effortless dominance he reigns over you.

Maybe spread your legs and push your knees up to their shoulders just to humiliate you.

You’re already sweaty and breathless; and the two haven’t even properly begun.

Kuroo leans forward, hooks your leg across his shoulder to have his arms free, then pushes in. Your tits sway with the motion and both men immediately stare at them. He sighs as he starts to easily fuck you, and you startle when Daichi’s hand curls around your ankle, not unlike Kuroo did moments before, and easily pulls you closer across the already rumpled sheets.

You could kick at him and try to squirm away, but it would be equally futile. The thought excites you inordinately but you made no move nor said any words, only a glazed and needy look on your face.

You are nothing but their slut and… it feels good. They take care of you how they want you; Daichi likes to see you stretched out next to the other man close enough that you can curl your palm around his cock. Your hands are small, barely able to wrap itself around his girth, but they are pretty looking. And incredibly soft.

But now you have your hands unthinkingly curled against Kuroo’s shoulders, looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes and breathing deeply. You glance at Daichi, and your face goes all soft and warm.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” Daichi praises you and flush, pink and humiliated. 

He is stern when he wants to, but he’s yet to have actually hurt you. You don’t think he has it in him to be too harsh on you, apart from the rough fucking he always grants you with.

Kuroo leans forward, hands braced on your hips as he picks up his pace. You stretch for him and bare your throat, groaning deep in your chest when his cock slides deep and almost too easy. He could lean forward and bite at your shoulders and neck. Give you warm ticklish licks on your nape, or the patch of skin under your ear.

But he can’t take his eyes off of your swaying tits and the soft jiggle of your belly, visibly contracting with every thrust forward.

You’re easy for them; stroking their egos by coming quick and gracious with little incentive given. It’s the only testament to your beauty; your body is deliciously sensitive and they love exploiting it. Have your thighs nearly bust their skulls or squeeze their neck so hard when you lose control and come so hard you squirt.

They are very determined to make up for lost time.

“That’s it,” he groans as his hand starts to stroke his cock faster, his voice getting your nipples tight and excited. You’ve been primed to his voice to an embarrassing degree. “So well… such a good girl.”

You try to stifle your moans so that you can focus on the sound of his voice, throw one arm across your eyes so it’s harder for them to see your flush. Daichi breathes deeply and nods quickly, a bit overeager when Kuroo looks questioningly at him, wondering how far they should go tonight. Daichi smiles in satisfaction.

He can’t even remember you ever having been as flexible as you are now,  folded in half before Kuroo mounts up on you again, but he knows you always do your best for them. You may have been shy and hesitant, only sticking to missionary and the likes, but that was once upon a time. If you mind the sharp hip bones and hard muscles poking at you while you’re getting put through your paces, you do not show it.

You do, in fact, not look like you’re in the position to notice much of anything anymore. Your face is a dull brick red and sweaty, hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks as you try to wheeze through the new position as your knees are nearly at your shoulders.

Daichi watches as Kuroo’s hands cradle your head. They look too big on your face; you look like a puppy that still has to grow to fit into its owner’s loving arms. He clumsily wipes the hair out of your eyes while his hips pump down into the wet mess of your hole. He’s already filled you up with a couple loads—fucked even more of them out of you—but he does not seem to be done by a longshot.

This, at least, Daichi wants to burn to his mind. Being so endlessly horny; bursting with energy. Spending the first half of the night fucking his hand just out of the sheer pleasure he gets when he watches the fellow former captain rail you onto the mattress, your faces so close you are practically sharing the same warm puffs of air.

“You’re so beautiful,” Daichi hears his own voice drawl. It’s surreal. You are making a weird sound in response; a long, drawn-out whine that rattles weirdly in your throat before it breaks and you scream out Kuroo’s name again, while your glassy eyes are unfocused and soft, staring up at him with undivided attention. 

He knows that look well, and he feels himself tense in anticipation, leaning forward on the chair he’s pulled close enough to the bed that his knees are hitting the edge of it.

“How does it feel, baby girl?” He croons. He wants to reach out and touch you as well, but he likes the look of Kuroo’s broad, damp fingers playing with the brown strands of your hair, then drifting down to rudely squeeze your breast. “Come on, tell us how you feel.”

He catches Kuroo’s curious glance for a second but does not elaborate further. The latter jumps on it like a dog on a bone, predictably. Daichi does not need to do more than stand back and enjoy the show as he braces himself next to your hand and pushes himself up, staring down at you.

Daichi can see your legs wiggling pathetically in the air when Kuroo stops dicking deep into the sloppy mess he’s made of you, where your toes were just curling, feet bouncing in the air just seconds ago—but he just wants to give you a breather. Let you rest for a minute or so while your body calms down.

“Yeah? Wanna tell us something?” There’s a glint in Kuroo’s eyes; not teasing but close to it. Something sharp and hungry and less affectionate than Daichi. He’s been impatient, not wasting a second longer to get his dick wet in your hot cunt, and he’s not pretending he likes to wait either. You do not seem to mind it; if anything, it probably gets you all the hotter and needier… makes you debase yourself underneath him.

Let him slap your tits and pinch your ass and as you drift in and out, listen to Daichi’s orders to tell you to lift it higher so Kuroo doesn’t have to work so hard.

You’ll do it all just to get a nice deep dicking with their cocks in a way that nothing else can quite satisfy, not yourself, not anyone else. They don’t like it when you do, anyway, and it’s not as if either of them would ever let you meet any other men, let alone fuck them.

Daichi has always been soft for you; he can’t help wanting to coddle you and croon at you and make love.

“Come on, tell me.” Kuroo is not even out of breath. He pulls back, dragging his cock out of you in a slow, wet motion that produces a nasty squelching sound as more cum bubbles out; fucked frothy by him already.

You squawk, undignified, trying to grab for him, but Daichi slaps your hands away.

“Please, Tetsu, please...” You are more than eager to give them what they want as long as it’ll get you filled up again. You moan deep and rattling in your heaving chest, trying so hard to keep your hands to yourself. “W-Want your cock!”

Daichi pauses for a second, his mouth parted in a small ‘o’ of surprise before it stretches in a big smile, one that can be mistaken as nothing else but love and affection, right before he lets out a scoff. It usually takes more time to work you up to this, no talking back to them, using your every breath to beg. 

“Oh fuck. That’s it, hm? You want his cock back inside you?”

Kuroo makes a move right away, not paying attention to you trying to grab at him and places your hands at the backs of your thighs to have a better leverage to fuck back into you with a sharp, deep thrust that has you jerking and throw your head back.

You scrabble at him, finally able to curl your hands around his biceps. You are holding on for dear life as he starts fucking again in a way you remember too well; sharp and fast thrusts as he chases his own orgasm and completely forgets that the warm hole around his dick belongs to a person.

You don’t seem to mind. You are chanting his name now, voice wobbling in time with the quick thrusts that seem aimed at fucking right through your belly button. Daichi watches it happen with a quiet, pulsing kind of affection. His cock is red and flushed, having grown even bigger as he strokes it with his palm, leaking into his hand.

He cannot bring himself to treat you with as little gentleness as Kuroo does, but it sure is nice watching someone do it… fuck you right through your orgasms and not give a damn about your mewling about not being able to take anymore, trying to wriggle away; Kuroo just grabs you and dicks you through it until you become lax and glassy-eyed again.

It is, quite frankly, a revelation. This is his favorite thing to do.

#daichi smut #kuroo smut #daichi x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader smut #daichi x reader smut #kuroo x reader smut #sawamura daichi #kuroo tetsurou

[dear-yandere]

& just drown with me.

yandere! beidou x reader. general headcanons. tw: kidnapping, implied dubcon. disclaimer: this is not a healthy relationship.

art belongs to jay ash (pixiv).

“come out, come out to the sea, my love and just drown with me...”

beidou is...

reverent, delusional, honest, lenient (RDHL) + doting, protective, clingy

— reverent is she the moment she sets eyes on you, her heart skips a beat. she doesn’t mince words or skirt along bushes; she’s enamored the moment she sees you, and she ensures that you’re well aware of her attraction. you’re quick to pick up that she is terribly handsy—and perhaps a little touch-starved—especially when it comes to you. her hands are on you at all times, sometimes friendly, sometimes on the cusp of something more.

she wants to hold you close and never let go, she knows that much. you’re just so frail, so easy to break if the slightest wind were to brush your sides a little too harshly. in contrast, she’s strong beyond compare, able to best sea beasts and part mountains with only her sword; and yet, gentleness is not lost on her. she takes extra care in handling you, beyond scared that you’ll break apart between her fingers if she’s the slightest bit too rough.

and letting go quickly becomes difficult.

she likes feeling your skin against hers. your hand entangled with hers, your fingers delicate and unused to combat; she is forever fascinated by the soft swell of your palm, the way your hand looks as if it can hardly hold itself against the world. your skin is devoid of callouses and tears unlike her own which carries the sword as big as her stature. your hair’s disheveled and knotty, and your clothes carelessly strewn across the floor. she likes you best this way; completely without covers, so that she may take you in to your fullest, so that she may hold all of you within her grasp and never let go. her fingers are always wrapped around your waist, lips pressing kisses onto your head.

you are a treasure beyond compare. 

— her thinking, you soon come to learn, lies upon the border of delusion, and yet her eyes hold an assurity when they look at you. you’re never allowed off her ship unsupervised. the decision was quick and painless, her voice doubtless and her intentions clear as the sea. she wants to flaunt you by her side, as she enjoys the way your body will grow warm with embarrassment when she walks into town with a pretty little thing by her side. pirates are known for their nonchalant approach to life, so for the great captain of the crux to show up in public with anything—or anyone—by her side apart from her trusty claymore is a curious sight. captain beidou isn’t known for her ability to settle in one place or with one person; the sea’s always been her true calling, after all. but to see her fingers gently settle on your shoulder as she pulls you close, the smirk on her reddened lips will quickly twist into a full-blown grin as the crowd she’s drawn erupts into cheers.

you know better than to make a scene in front of these people—people who look up to captain beidou, people who wouldn’t take you seriously if you explained the way she keeps you captive on her ship. you’re nothing more than a victim, you’ll say to them, and they’ll only laugh you off with a wave of their hand, certain this whole charade is some roundabout way for beidou to entertain herself. the sea must drive a man delirious, after all. no one can fault her.

and for that reason, no one can believe your pleads.

beidou is a free spirit enamored by the call of adventure, and yet her actions are anything but.

— dishonesty is something beidou hasn’t the time nor patience for. her words hold no lie when directed at anyone, but especially when directed at you. she couldn’t dream of lying to you—and she has, unfortunately. the moment she woke up from that terrible dream was the moment she shook you awake to apologize profusely, even if the language was colored with her own vulgar vernacular. yes... she apologized for a futile little lie she told in a dream.

dishonesty simply isn’t on the table.

she goes to great lengths to explain her day to you, taking the utmost care to not leave the slightest detail out. the main reason being her guilty conscience, really. there’s not much to do cooped up on a musty ship cabin—even if her quarters are decked out to the nines just for your liking. you weren’t keen on the idea at first, feeling more like a child being told stories before bedtime, rather than a fellow sailor and her beloved first mate. but her eyes will light up all the same, and she’ll tell you of her day and the new things she’s seen as if you were right there with her. you quickly learn to nod along and acknowledge her every so often, as the only alternative is to mope around in her cabin or on the deck—the few times she’ll let you accompany her out there. there’s only so many thoughts to think by yourself, and at some point, you grow to look forward to these fantastical stories every night.

— she doesn’t know fear—freedoms are yours for the choosing if you’re brave enough to set your sights on them. lenient and all too unfussed by the chance you’ll make it any further than the twenty feet from her person at all times, she’s well aware you won’t make it rather far. you wouldn’t call it much in the way of “freedom” really—and you start to envy the citizens of the ever-free mondstadt a few regions over. all freedoms are your for the taking; that is, all freedoms except a dismissal from her side. it’s where any good luck charm belongs, she’ll laugh and plant a wet kiss atop your lips. her good luck charm... she doesn’t need luck—not with strength rivaling a god’s—and yet she refuses to go anywhere without you close behind. 

it’s no surprise that her crew had once joked that you follow her around like a lost seadog—unaware that you do so per her directions—only for the poor lads to regret ever having said anything. their captain’s eyes are dark when she pipes up behind them.

“haven’t you got better jobs to do than mess with my lass?” she jeers, that usual smirk not quite reaching her eyes. from your position behind the crew—the men now all lined up in terror before the captain of the crux—even you start to break into sweat. it’s clear from her tone that she’s irritated, and the fact she’s clutching onto her claymore as if its the anchor on her anger scares even you. 

they were poking fun at you only moments ago, and now you can’t help but feel sorry for them.

“i’ll let you off the hook ‘cause you’re my dear brothers.“ despite her clemency, her expression tightens and not one man dares to let his tense muscles relax. “but i’ll only say this once, lads.” she explains, stepping down from the raised deck to saunter over to your side. all eyes turn to you two, a pair they’ve grown used to seeing day in and day out. beidou slings her arm around your shoulders, the curves of her body pressing into yours perfectly. “this here is my first mate; a jab at them is no better than a jab at me. the next time i hear a jab at them, i’ll do far worse than have you swimming with the fishes.”

— she loves drinking with you by her side, even if you can’t hold liquor down to save your life. her cheeks are quick to flush shades of pinks and reds, and you can never stop yourself from staring in awe, even when she slings an arm around your waist and pulls you close. her lips catch yours as if they belong there, a puzzle piece filled by its other half. her kisses are a hazy fire, fiercely warm and dangerously untamed; they always taste like strong beer, the beverage steeped in various spices that sit nicely on her lips.

you only wish she wouldn’t do so in public. her boisterous laughter and charisma draws the attention of the tavern-goers, most of whom know better than to interrupt beidou when she’s chugging down jugs of alcohol. her crew doesn’t mind the sight, nor do they mind your presence at the table—though, it’s not like they have much of a choice in protesting; although they don’t fully recognize you as a bonafide crew member of the alcor, it’s clear that captain beidou has something of a sweet spot for you.

still, they feel like they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t when she captures your lips with hers, her fingers drunkenly playing with the thin strap keeping your outfit intact. 

— captain beidou carries her heart on her sleeves and her riches in each hand. riches and spoils are fully within your grasp at all times, sometimes to the point of annoyance when she insists on adorning you with a piece of jewelry she picked up at port. ‘it reminded me of you, s’all,’ she’ll laugh sheepishly, already unclasping the necklace to set it around your neck. ‘wear it and think of me, yea?’

it’s an order more than a romantic sentiment; you have no choice but to think of her at all times.

it’s only when you learn of her past that you come to understand her near-obsession with providing you with the best of the best. from the moment she opened her eyes as a newborn, her life had been mired by misfortune, as if the gods themselves were curious how long she’d survive a life of ordeals. as confident as she is now, you would’ve never guess that beneath the surface, she is forever humbled by her past. having grown up in a family with little money and even less to eat, she was to pick up on the way of thieves, learning the schedules and habits of merchants at the local market so that she could swoop in to steal fruits and veggies from their unattended stands.

“don’t worry about it too much, lass; me telling you such stories is merely for your amusement,” she’ll laugh as she explains this to you, sparing you the grisly details of starvation and malaise. she doesn’t tell you how her skin would cling to her ribs for years on end, hanging from her skeleton as if life had given up on it. she’s been on hard times for most of her life, and yet the only side you ever see is the one blessed by fortune and power.

“life and i have never gotten along, so i had to climb my way up in this world.” her tone is cheerful; you see right through it. “my life’s been tough, i’ll admit that much, but i have no intention of making you live through that too.” 

— as much as she tries to run from it, she cannot outsail truth. as much as she’d prefer to keep you on her ship—where she can keep an eye on you, where you’re always free to join her in her quest for adventure and thrill—she’s aware that all things must come to an end; even the sea has an edge and an end.

this is just one of them.

 “hey... if you really don’t want to be here, i won’t stop you. it’s your choice, and whatever you decide is set in stone. i can’t change that no matter how hard i try, but... could you do me a favor?... just, could you at least give me a chance? 

i don’t like overstepping my boundaries where i’m not needed, but this is all i’ll ask of you. think long and hard about your decision. what you decide is up to you—and if you’re set on the idea, i’ll let you leave, no repercussions. sound like a deal?”

bonus.

— she isn’t herself at night. gone is the boisterous laughter that could raise the hair on a man’s arms. gone is the domineering aura she carries like a shield, its front aimed at a world that tries to hold her down. she craves adventure, but the moment night falls and she pulls you into the cot with her, she’s out like a light. the only time you manage to catch yourself every day is when she’s by your side rather than the other way around, her person quiet and gently breathing the sea-stained air.

the ship creaks, and you can hear it clear as night now that the crew is snuggled into their cabins and warm cots, and now that their even-louder captain has fallen asleep. you can finally hear your own thoughts. you have much to think about, having been spirited away to “adventure” against your will... and yet you only think of her.

you turn on your side and settle your weary eyes on your lover. her features are no longer sharp, no longer laden with the responsibility of power and might. nestled between a lavish blanket and the warmth of your body, she is no longer a paragon of otherwordly strength; she’s just human. this is just another side of the captain, just another beidou intended only for your eyes.

and it’s in these quiet moments that you realize you’re in love.

dear-yandere, all rights reserved.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere beidou x reader #yandere beidou #beidou x reader #genshin impact x reader #*headcanons #tw kidnapping #tw dubcon #genshin impact #beidou #[ really hope she isnt ooc ] #[ i havent even met her yet smh .. . im bobo the clown ]