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i-cant-sing · 3 years

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Promise: Yandere Godfather Hawks x Todoroki reader

This is a side story takes place in the YRHR series, after part 1, when the reader returns home, blind.

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"Y/n... Come on, wake up. Its 9 already." You heard him say, feeling the bed dip as he sat on it, gently touching the back of your shoulder. "Aren't you hungry? Mom's making your favourite."

When you gave no response, Shotou pulled the covers away from your face, his brows furrowing at the bandages around your eyes that had loosened up. You had did that, clawing at the meticulously tight knot Natsuo had done; you didn't like how it settled on your eyes.

"You're awake, right?" The only answer he got was you turning your cheek further away from him when he tried to caress it. Shotou didn't like your silence and he missed it when you used to ramble about almost anything to him. He missed when you were happy.

The door bell rang.

Shotou looked at his watch confused. Wasn't Natsuo supposed to come around at 11? He could hear Enji walking to the main door, and after a few seconds of silence, he heard footsteps coming towards your room. But then he heard some scuffling, and people talking- he recognised Enji's and Dabi's voices, his brother's getting louder by the second.

"I'll check who's there. Stay."

Stay? You would've rolled your eyes if, you know, you still had them.

A few more minutes passed and you could hear Dabi arguing with someone, and you think that Shotou is trying to calm him down. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, you got up from the bed. For the past whole month, Shotou would come to wake you up everyday, carrying you in his arms to the bathroom, never letting you walk on your own, claiming "you'll get hurt".

Idiot.

Taking one small step at a time, you stretched your arms out trying to reach the wall. Once you felt the cold, smooth surface, you used it to guide you towards the door.

No matter what you did, or how many times you told them to back off, that you can do this on your own, they wouldn't let you. Hell, you were pretty sure that if they could, they would breathe for you too. As if trying to instil in your mind that you're helpless without them, incapable of making your own decisions.

I'll show them how fucking capable I am.

After stubbing your toe only once, you finally reached the door, your hand gripping the metal knob. You placed your ear on the door, trying to figure out who and where everyone is standing. The corridor seemed empty and you think everyone is downstairs.

Opening the door, you used another wall to guide you towards the stairs. You hoped Shotou doesn't see you; he'd throw a hissy fit at you attempting to walk down the stairs.

As you took one careful step at a time, you heard the commotion grow louder. You could hear Dabi yelling profanities at the other person, certainly not Enji because Rei or Fuyumi would've stepped in by now to stop him. You used to stop him too, but ever since what happened, you don't really care anymore.

"Why the fuck are you even here?! She doesn't fucking want to see you!"

"Dabi-!"

"And who is gonna stop me? You? I'd be happy to knock you down on your ass- its about goddamn time!"

"Hawks!"

Hawks?

Hawks.

Hawks!

You almost stumbled down the last few steps, but you needed to know- was he, was he really here?

"K-Keigo?"

You heard his wings flap before you felt him, the wind gushed at your body strongly, making you lose your balance. But muscular arms wrapped around you before you could fall, and the winged hero lifted you up and spun you around, making you burst into laughter.

Rei was the first one to cry.

You laughed.

Not a bitter, sarcastic one.

A genuinely happy laugh.

And she missed her baby's laugh so much.

Dabi's eyes widened slightly. His heart clenching up a bit as he realised how he missed that beaming look on your face. He realised how fucking naive you were, how you were his little sister that he needed to protect.

Shotou felt envy. Why- why didn't you laugh like that with him? Why didn't you laugh for him? Was he... not a good brother?

Fuyumi actually rushed out of the kitchen when she heard you, her hands coming up to her mouth to suppress the sob that was building up. Too long. It had been too long since you were happy.

Natsuo smiled. He smiled as he saw you chortle when the hero's feathers tickled your cheek. He wished you would smile more often.

Enji's breath hitched as he saw you chuckle into Hawk's shoulder. It was so natural, so lively, so radiant. He had been dying to hear that sweet sound again.

Your heart was beating fast and your stomach was doing somersaults as you felt the air rushing through your hair and cooling on to your neck, the soft feathers brushing across your skin.

He really was here.

But so were they.

And you could feel their eyes on you.

Keigo frowned when he saw you curl yourself into him, as if trying to bury yourself into his chest. When he looked around, he saw them glaring and that's when he puffed out his wings before curling them around you; shielding you.

"I'll be spending time with my goddaughter. Do not disturb us." And with that, Hawks flew you up to your room, locking the door before they could sat anything. He could hear Dabi arguing, but he trusted Enji to handle him.

He set you on your bed, chuckling as you didn't let go of his collar.

"Its okay, dove. I'm here, now- ow!" You cut him off by punching his arm.

"Where were you?!"

"In your heart- ow! Stop hitting me!" He caught your wrists.

"You said you were gonna visit me at home! Its been a whole month-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry but believe me, I really was busy!" Sighing, he continued. "The hero commission sent me to Europe for a mission and things got a bit messy, so I got caught up."

Yanking your hands out of his grip, you scowled. "Would it have killed you to call?"

"I mean I wouldn't say kill, but I probably could've lost a limb or two-" He started laughing when when you began getting up to walk to the door.

Keigo wrapped his arms around you, smiling cheekily"Y/n- I'm sorry, I'm just kidding. Come back-"

"No, let go! I don't have time for your bullshit" He continued laughing, easily picking you up and dropping you back on your bed.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Come on, now. Stop being mad." You heard him shuffling. "Besides, I've got something for you!"

He dropped something in your lap. You picked an item, your hands feeling around it, trying to figure out what the rectangular shaped box was.

"Whats this?"

"Oh, here. Let me help you." He lifted the lid of the box and you were immediately hit by a familiar smell.

"Chocolate?"

He hummed in confirmation"Your favourite ones too! They were always sold out! Luckily, I was able to use my charm on the owner."

"Charm? Oh, you mean where you pull that ugly smirk and do that half lidded look with your eyes, and you think that you look hot but you actually just look creepy?"

"Yeah- hey!"

And then the next 3 hours were spent like that, Hawks telling you about Europe and the bad guys he caught, you telling him about the way your family had been treating you.

"They don't let me do anything, they don't give me any privacy! Its like- its like they want me to be a doll!" You gave an exasperated sigh. "They- they act like they are being so generous. Like it was somehow my fault that my eyes got fried!"

"Oh come on. They can't be that bad-"

"They are! So much worse than before. Look, I'm a grown up- I need my space too! You know what Shotou said when I asked him to get me a walking stick? He said I don't need one since he can carry me everywhere. Do you know how embarrassing it is to get carried to the toilet every single day? Do you?!"

"Well, no-"

"And then Fuyumi cuts up my food and spoon feeds me herself! I know I'm blind but its not like I'm gonna stuff the food up my nose or something!"

The hero snickered at that.

"And then Enji reads me these novels or the newspaper and he skips over the parts he thinks I'm too "young" or "immature" to understand! They even monitor what I listen to! Fuyumi or Shotou would be quick to change the channel if something above pg 10 comes on!" You ran a hand through your hair frustratedly. "I asked Enji to get me a Braille and the first few time he pretended like he didn't hear me, before finally saying that I don't need one!"

"Don't worry, I'll sneak in a Braille for dummies the next time I visit."

"Hey-! Wait... what do you mean "next time"?"

"Oh come on! I promise I'll come earlier next time. Maybe in like 2 weeks-"

"No."

"What-"

"No. I want to leave this place today. You promised."

"Y/n-"Keigo reached to place a hand on your shoulder but you pushed him off.

"You. Promised. You said you'll get me out of here when I leave the hospital" You inhaled deeply. "Well, guess what, Hawks? Its been a whole month."

"I know but you're not well enough-"

"I AM! If anything, staying here is harming me more!" Your tone was getting angrier. "You said- you said you would take me away from them."

"I can't do it right now. The hero commission needs me-"

"I need you! Or am I just not worth your time?"

"Please, dove- try to understand. How will I take care of you if I'm out at the agency?"He tried to pet your head but you smacked his hand away, snarling at him.

"You're a liar. A big fucking liar! Was this the plan all along? To give me hope that you'll save me, only to fucking crush it?!" The hero managed to dodge the box of chocolates you threw at him. "I don't need fucking chocolate or your stupid presents. I need to get out of this goddamn house!"

The hero began walking towards the door. "You're not thinking rationally- I'll- I'll leave." But before the hero could manage to take another step, you were leaping towards him, but since you couldn't see, you only managed to fall near his feet. When he grabbed your shoulders to help you up, you were quick to latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly.

"No- no! Don't go. Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. Please, don't be mad. I swear I'll behave, just don't leave me here!" Your hold onto him was becoming painfully tight.

Keigo felt like someone was breaking his heart piece by piece as he looked at you. The way your body shook from your pitiful sobs, the way you held onto his jacket as if your life depended on it- he was forced to remember how vulnerable you looked the night he brought you back to the this house. The same night when you begged and begged him to fly you away, that you'll do anything as long as he didn't dropped you back at the Todoroki estate.

"Y/n- darling, love, listen to me. I promised you that I'll keep you save, didn't I? I promise I'll come back soon-"

"YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE! CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT SHE'S DONE TO ME! SHE BURNED MY FUCKING EYES HAWKS! I'M FUCKING BLIND! DO I NEED TO LOSE A LIMB FOR YOU TO GET ME OUT OF HERE?! DO I HAVE TO SUFFER FROM ANOTHER "ACCIDENT"?!"

Hawks knew that bitch Rei did this on purpose, he knew and it killed him that he couldn't save you from her. He wanted to tell you that he believed you, and he was preparing a place for you. But the hero knows your siblings were eavesdropping, right on the other side of the door.

He had to be careful and play the fool if he wanted to get you out of this hell hole.

"Y/n please-"

You shook your head repeatedly, pulling him closer to you as you shrieked at him. "No. NO! I wont let you go! I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE WITHOUT ME! Keigo, I'm begging you! Take me with you, please! I'll die! I'll die! I'LL FUCKING DIE, KEIGO! PLEASE!"

Your loud screams had your siblings bursting through the door, obviously using a spare key. "Y/n, whats wrong-" You jumped away when they touched your shoulder, giving Hawks chance to slip away.

You instantly reached out for him, flailing your arms around to get a hold of him again. But the hero was already out the door and your siblings quickly pulled you back into their arms, shushing you, trying to calm you down.

But you were inconsolable. Thrashing around in Shotou's arms, you kept begging for Hawks to come back. "HAWKS COME BACK! LET ME GO! HAWKS, PLEASE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE!" It pained them to see you like this, so hysterical; Shotou and Fuyumi whispered sweet nothings but you payed them no mind. Natsuo knew you were going to hyperventilate soon, but he was more worried about you bursting a vessel in your head.

Thinking fast, he quickly brought up a tranquilliser- and the moment the sharp smell of the alcohol swab hit your nose, you were wrestling harder to get out Shotou's and Fuyumi's arms.

"Y/n, please calm down-"

"FUCK YOU! LET ME GO! KEIGO! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! COME BACK- STOP! STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP!" You screamed louder than before when you felt her cold hands gripping your arm, holding it still so that your brother could administer the dose.

As the drug began taking effect, your thrashing slowed down before you finally slumped into Shotou's arms. The tranquilliser numbed the headache that was forming, and you felt Fuyumi use a tissue to wipe the snot and the spit off your face.

"I'll die... I'll die... And you won't be there. And I'll die..."

Hawks was in a trance like state as he watched Shotou tuck you under the covers. He wanted to use his sharp feathers to slice off that cold bitch's hand that brushed the hair out of your face, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your daunting screams rang through his ears; his chest felt like some was shoving a knife through it slowly as he played back the image of you trying to wring yourself free from their arms, one hand still reaching out for him. It took everything in him not to grab it and pull you away from those monsters, but he had to remind himself of the bigger picture.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the pyromaniac standing next to him until he spoke.

"This is all your fault."

Hawks looked at Dabi. His fault?

"You shouldn't have come here."

"She's my goddaughter-"

"Shut the fuck up." Dabi narrowed his eyes at the hero. "She's like this because you gave her false hope. Hope, that one day she'll get away from us. You and I both know that's not gonna happen." He sighed before continuing. "You call yourself a hero, but in reality, you're no better than us."

As Hawks turned to leave, not willing to let the villian get on his nerves, Dabi spoke again.

"Dont bother coming back. She won't forgive you. She'll never forget this betrayal."

Hurtful as they were, he knew the words he said were true.

Hawks was almost out the gates when he saw Enji sitting in the garden, looking at the koi pond. He should've left, should've flown away but there was something in Enji's eyes that had the winged hero walking towards him. He recognised the emotion as soon as he got close.

Sorrow.

Or was it guilt?

Perhaps a mixture of both.

"Endeavour, are you... alright?"

The number 1 hero looked away from the fish and blinked at him.

"Hawks? What are you still doing here?"

The blonde chuckled nervously. "I was just on my way out." He gazed at him. "Are you okay? You seem to be in deep thought."

Enji only stared at him. Taking his silence as the answer, Hawks turned to leave.

"Why did you come here today, Keigo?"

Keigo.

He suppressed the urge to shudder the way his name rolled off his tongue.

"She's my goddaughter too. Why? Do you think it was a bad decision to come?"

"No." Enji sighed. "I just- she hadn't laughed like that in a long time."

Hawks stood beside him. "She's still traumatised from the kitchen accident. Its understable-"

"No. She hadn't laughed like that for a long time, even before this happened." Enji's eyes moved towards the night sky. The stars were twinkling extra bright tonight. How he wished you could see it. "Before she lost her sight, she used to look out the window, her eyes searching sky." He gulped. "She was looking for you, Keigo. You- you made her happy, you make her laugh. I don't."

Hawks placed his hand on Enji's shoulder. "That's not true, Enji. You do make her happy. She loves you. She feels safe with you. She sees you as her protector."

"She does?"

He nodded. "Of course. If you want things to return to normal, you need to treat her normally too. Just- just talk to her. Sort out the issues and wash away whatever fears she has." Hawks wanted Enji to listen to you, to really listen to you and protect you from Rei. He could only hope that Enji understood what he meant.

Hawks was right, Enji realised. Whatever delusions you have of Rei wanting to hurt you on purpose, of being the "bad person", they can all be cleared up if he just talked to you. Ever since the incident, the family avoided talking to you about Rei or the events that had occurred that day.

If he just talked to you, things will return to normal. You'll become happy again.

"Thank you, Keigo."

Hawks only smiled in return. "I'll be leaving now."

"Okay. When will you visit again?"

"I'll be gone for longer now. The hero commission is sending me on another mission again."

"Oh. Safe travels, then."

As Hawks flew away, he began thinking about the house.

The house where he was going to take you to soon. He just needs to add a few finishing touches before he sets his plan in motion. The plan to rescue you, and eventually Enji, from those sadist that call themselves your family.

He will not let his dove get hurt again.

He'll save you this time.

He promises.

Thoughts?

Idk how this turned out, angst wasn't the plan initially. Guess I'll write godfather Hawks fluff for another day.

Anyways, now that this is done, I'll start working on RE 8 fic now.

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

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Inevitable (Prologue) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)

Prologue Word count: 2.2k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: I’ve had this story in my head for months and I’m glad I finally got to put this into writing! This little family was such a joy to write, and I thank the sweetest soul, Ava @btstannies for letting me gush over this trio and hyping me up everyday! Also, my baseball knowledge is pretty shallow so please forgive me!

Listen to: Walking By by Something Corporate

Series Masterlist || Next

“We’re here.”

The deep voice cuts through the numbness you feel, blowing life into your body that’s chosen to block out the pain for now because you know after this, it’s going to hurt a lot more.

You taste iron on your lips. You feel the sting in your eyes. You see the crescent nail marks on your palms. Then you slacken your jaw and try to breathe.

“You can cry, you know?” But Taehyung knows you won’t. Not in front of him. Not in front of the man whose heart you’re about to break.

Your best friend knows you, knows you’ll only cry when you’re alone - under the covers, in the shower, on your bedroom floor. You don’t let anybody see you like that. It makes you feel like you don’t have control, and control is the one thing you need to have right now.

“I will.”

“You also don’t have to do this.”

But Taehyung also knows you still will. It’s a decision you made on your own and he knows you well enough that nothing - no one - will make you change your mind.

“I need to.”

He hums; it’s a battle he won’t win. So he exits the car, opens the passenger seat door, and pulls you out. “I’ll be here when it’s over.”

When it’s over. Over. That’s what it’ll be after this.

You ring the doorbell and hear the faint footsteps get louder. The door opens and joyful onyx eyes greet you, a contrast to your tired brown ones. He takes it for something else, perhaps stress, since he doesn’t say anything about it.

Jungkook pulls you in a hug and you will yourself not to bask in his sweet scent, not to let his soft giggle on your neck and peck on your cheek and whisper of “I missed you” make you forget why you’re here in the first place.

He tugs you inside the apartment, the one the team offered him because he couldn’t abide by the university dorm’s curfew, being that he trains too early and finishes too late. It had been a blessing to you both, as in the course of your over two years together, you’d taken advantage of the privacy and solitude it provided.

You can’t imagine what it would give him after this.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy. All these calls with the Dodgers’ owner, then manager, then coach. You think they’d all just call at once but they’re in different cities, I guess,” he shrugs and turns to you. “They’ve been excited,” he continues, his smile reaching his eyes.

It’s never pained you until now.

“As they should,” you try a smile. “They’re lucky you signed.”

He chuckles at this. He’s always been amused at your oblivion with how these things work. He’s lucky he even caught the eye of a scout, lucky they even paid attention, lucky that the LA Dodgers wanted to give him a shot with their AAA affiliate team in the minor league.

If he’s even luckier, maybe he can get to the major league in three years; two would be a miracle. It’s what he’s worked so hard for, it’s why the decision to move thousands of miles away was a no-brainer. Not everyone gets a chance to play in the most popular baseball league like this.

But Jungkook doesn’t know any better, doesn’t know that you know how these things work. You wouldn’t be doing what you’re about to if you didn’t.

“I’m glad you called, though,” he says, nerves teeming with excitement at his news. Well, proposal. It might be a difficult sell with you but he knows it’s not impossible.

It came to him one day, in the middle of a conference call with the owner who kept raving about his soon-to-be home.

“Oklahoma City is great, Jungkook. You’re gonna love it there,” the man had said. Jungkook wasn’t completely sold on the city but he knew you’d enjoy the museums, knew you’d enjoy watching the OKC Thunder play - you were always more into basketball than baseball, anyway.

Everything had been so fast - from the meetings to the contract-signing to the planning of his move to the US - but he couldn’t imagine starting his life there without you and he just knew he had to have you there with him.

He could help you find a job or you could do freelance work; what he’d earn could be enough if you both plan things out well, he thought. He was smiling like an idiot during that call, thinking about the next phase of your life together and he couldn’t wait to tell you.

You’d been caught up with your final projects and school events and he’d been caught up with his papers but you’re here with him now.

“So I was thinking and—.”

“We should break up.”

You say at the same time. For the first time, his wide eyes mirror yours - sullen and dark, but glassy, too because he did not just hear you tell him that you two should end this.

Everything had been going so well. You’d been so excited when he got signed to the Minor League, was celebrating with him in all ways you both knew how. There were no talks about breakups, no ending things. It seemed like a given that you’d both stay together; long distance relationships are hard but there are ways to manage. He knew that. He thought you knew that, thought you felt the same, too.

He stares at you, unable to make a sound, to form words that would be remotely close to what he wants to say. His heart is breaking by the second and you stare back at him. There’s no sign of guilt. You’re not taking it back, you’re not saying anything.

“You don’t mean this, ___. Tell me you don’t mean this.”

“I do,” you sigh. “I just think it’s best if we end this.”

He wishes you had not said anything at all.

“Why?” He stammers, willing himself to face whatever fucked up reason you have for wanting to break up. It doesn’t seem real. He’s suffocating with how forward you are, with how unbothered you seem while he feels his world slowly crumbling. “Did I do something wrong? Do you not love me anymore?”

“I just don’t think it’s gonna work out.”

“We haven’t even tried. I mean, I’m not leaving yet, we have a few more months to figure it out.”

“It’s months enough to get over this so we can move on. It’ll just be harder then. We know it’s gonna happen anyway,” you lie.

You see the shock on his face, the disbelief in the words coming out of your mouth. This isn’t the woman who he laid in bed with just a week ago, naked, giggling, kissing him.

“Babe, you can’t do this. I want you—no, I need you to be with me,” he continues, voice strangled, the thoughts of asking you to come with him drifting away.

“I don’t.” It’s another lie, but it’s one you need to tell.

You’re uncompromising, resolute in your decision. Your almost emotionless face - tightened features and completely dry eyes - is a contrast to his. You can’t break. You can’t back out from this.

He muffles his cries, heart breaking at the coldness of your words.

“You’re all you need, Jungkook,” you continue. “There’s nothing else I can give you that you won’t get there.” Another lie. You know that no one could love him as much as you. It’s why you’re doing this.

“Don’t do this to me, please.”

“Don’t do this to me, too, Jungkook. You have an entire life to live out there. You’re the one leaving and I’m supposed to just stay here and wait for you? Until your dream is enough? Live my life in limbo until we can be together again in god knows when? Expect that video calls will make up for the distance? What about me and my own life? What about my needs?”

It’s messed up but that’s what you do when you love someone, right? You hurt them? And you let them go?

You can only hope that one day, he’ll understand; that one day, he can forgive you. That one day, he’ll accept that you had to do this. It’s that hope you hang onto - that you’ll hang onto for years to come - just so you won’t fall apart. It’s only that hope where you can derive your strength from because you’ll have to be strong for someone else now. Someone who isn’t him.

“We— we can work it out. We’ll try, okay?. We’ll figure something out.” He stutters, still unbelieving that this is happening, that he is begging you to be on the same page with him, begging you to fight for this with him.

“But what if we can’t? What if it becomes too much? You know what it would take to make it and I can’t hold you back, Jungkook. My life is here, my family and my friends are here. I have a job waiting for me, so you can’t hold me back either. It’s unfair to both of us.”

He’s looking at you, desperate to find a crack, to find an opening. But there’s none.

“Baby, please—” he cries, arms out to hold you but you step away, as if his touch could burn you. His heart is already shattered, why are you still breaking it? What’s left to break when you’ve taken everything away from him with just your words?

“Jungkook, think about it!”

“I am, and you’re not making sense! I know we haven’t really talked about it—“

“Exactly. Because there’s nothing to talk about. You don’t need baggage when you’re over there, you can’t be thinking about anyone else, especially one who isn’t there. You need support and more patience and understanding and… I can’t give you those. Not anymore. I’m tired. I’ve been tired. It’s gonna be even more tiring when you’re gone.”

The lies don’t stop but you know they’re necessary, that this is how you convince him, that this is how he lets you go.

Jungkook doesn’t think there’s a worse way that you can hurt him. He’s always admired your decisiveness, but right now, he hates it, hates everything he loves about you - how strong you are, how persistent you are, how uncompromising you are. Your words are ice, as cold as the December evening. You’re unmoving and he knows you well enough that you won’t take it back.

“Fine,” he relents. “You want to break up? Then we break up.” He wipes the tears off his face, trying to be brave, trying to salvage the remaining dignity he has left. “We end this right now, like you want.”

This is what you came here to do. This was the goal. And you’re absolutely broken.

You turn away, knowing any more second of looking at his clenched jaw, balled up fist, and unblinking eyes will make you give in, will make you take everything back.

“Don’t reach out, okay? Don’t call. Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he states. “You wanted this.”

You nod because he’s right. You’ll lose all rights to him after this. He’ll get over you, he’ll be okay. You’ll let him know the truth when the time is right.

“Goodbye, Jungkook. Good luck out there. Your father is very proud of you.”

You turn and head out the door, the bang not as loud as your shattering heart. And just like that, it was all over.

You stand motionless outside his apartment, unable to make a step to make it all final.

You hear a thump. Then a sob.

“Please, don’t go,” he whispers, as if he knows you’re still there, and even during the final moments, he’s still begging for you to change your mind. It’s faint but you hear it and you step away this time before you walk back in and take everything back.

Taehyung starts the car as he sees your figure approach. You head to the back, behind the driver’s seat, a hand over your mouth to suppress your sobs.

“You can cry now,” he says, as he steps on the gas and turns up the volume of the radio until it drowns out your sounds. You let yourself go and weep, throat aching at the force of it all, chest tightening at the overwhelming emotion of what you’d just done.

It hurts not like you expected. It hurts even more.

You ground yourself before you lose more of you as the seconds go by and cradle the soon-to-be-there bump on your stomach.

You need to let them know it wasn’t their fault, that they’re a blessing either way, but that it’s just hard right now. You don’t want them to feel the grief, the ache of a love that had to end, the love that created them.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” you whisper and trust that this tiny little being can hear your words. “But we’re gonna be okay, alright? Mama’s gonna be okay.”

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #parents au #exes au #baseball player jk #inevitable #series

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skzsauce01 · 2 years

Text

unSpoken

Description: Y/N is given two months to live. The one thing left on her bucket list? To get married.

Warning: cancer, death

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Kim Seungmin

“We’re looking at two months.”

“Two months?” Seungmin repeats, squeezing your arm just a little tighter. “But it was just a cough!”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor consoles. He looks between the two of you and says, “I’ll give you some privacy” before walking out of the room.

You stare straight ahead, unsure what to do. Cancer. The word sounds so surreal. You never smoked or over-drank. You exercised and lived a healthy lifestyle, so how did this happen?

“Y/N…” Seungmin calls gently.

You turn your head towards him and smile. “Seungmin, I’ll be ok—”

“No, you won’t,” he cuts you off. “I’ve been your best friend for years. You can’t lie to me.”

You look down at your hands, twiddling your fingers. “Well, this certainly does suck, doesn’t it? I’m sorry I’ll be leaving you alone.”

“This isn’t about me,” he reminds you.

You return your gaze onto him. “It’s just easier when it’s not about me. Thinking about all the things I haven’t done and will never do— what’s the good in that?” You hear your voice breaking. “I’ll never own a home or collect my retirement funds. Heck, I’ll never even get married.” You laugh dryly. “You know how I’ve always wanted a family of my own.”

He nods. He knows this well. He remembers how you grew up jumping from foster home to foster home. He remembers how you’d come over to his house on Fridays whenever you ended back in his neighborhood and how you’d smile just a little bit more when his father came home and gave his mother a peck on the cheek. He remembers all the boys he had to scare off for you in college because you were so desperate, you couldn’t tell that they were toxic. You are so willing to love, yet life has been nothing but cold to you. And now it has decided to end it all in two months.

“Tomorrow…” he begins slowly, “after your discharge, let’s go to the mall and pick out some rings and a dress. There’s a little chapel on the boulevard. I think it’ll work.”

You blink at him. “But whom would I marry?”

He blinks back at you. “Me, of course.”

“Seungmin, I can’t ask for something as serious as this.”

“Let me do this for you. Please.” He takes your hands and looks you in the eyes. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

It was simple; there’s not much to be expected of a wedding planned in one afternoon after all. Still, it was sweet and more than you could have asked for. Seungmin bought you an elegant bouquet and picked you up in a Cadillac, all which you thought was a bit much to be spending on memories that will be buried in the ground in a few weeks. Nonetheless, it was beautiful and filled your chest with a warmth not unfamiliar to you whenever you are with Seungmin.

“I pronounce you man and wife,” announces the priest.

The few friends who managed to come on such short notice cheer and applaud as Seungmin leans over to kiss your cheek. When he straightens up again, there’s a smile on his face as he pulls something out of his pocket.

“Here,” he says, taking your hand and putting the object into it.

“What’s this?” You open your palm and see a set of silver keys on it.

“Access to your own home,” he answers. “We’re married now, so my house is yours too. Not sure what I can do about your retirement funds though.”

You don’t even catch the last part of what he says as you smile widely and engulf him in your arms.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” you begin to cry.

After overcoming his initial shock, he too brings his arms around your waist. He knows you aren’t thanking him for the keys or even for marrying you; you are thanking him for loving you, for placing your interests before his and for being by your side up to the last moments.

“Thank you,” he whispers back. “For letting me love you.”

For a month, you and Seungmin tried to keep normalcy as much as you could. You two went to work as usual and came home to watch a movie or bake cookies together. Sure, Seungmin would make flirtatious comments or randomly hug you from behind every once in a while, but otherwise, the only thing that changed is your living arrangement. As such, the two of you were almost surprised to receive a call from the hospital asking you to come back four weeks later. There’s a new treatment, the doctor informs you, and you might have a chance to survive.

“It has an 80% success rate in trials, and the surgeon who developed the technique will be flying in to perform the surgery personally.”

“And if it works?” you ask.

“Then you’ll live. Cancer free.”

Seungmin’s hand tightens around yours as he beams, leaning closer over the phone.

“But,” the doctor continues, “because of the positioning of your mass and the nature of this procedure, we will have to perform a laryngectomy.”

“So I won’t be able to talk again.”

“But you’ll live.”

You look at Seungmin, and he nods at you, his lips now pursed into a line.

“It’s your best option,” the doctor urges again.

You squeeze your eyes closed. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

You feel a thumb stroking the back of your hand and hear the doctor shuffling some paper around, assumably your consent form.

“You’re making the right decision,” the doctor assures you. “The specialist will be in on Friday, so we will need to check you in Thursday afternoon.”

Cancer didn't change your life, but this certainly did. Suddenly, you and Seungmin both take an extended leave from your jobs and are thrown into a plethora of sign language curriculums. Between that and calling everyone you know one last time, you barely have time to eat, and if you weren’t living with Seungmin, you very well might have died of starvation before your cancer could kill you.

‘Dinner,’ he signs to you. Your last meal before having to fast for the surgery.

‘Thank you,’ you sign back.

He shakes his head and retracts the plate of bibimbap as you reach for it. “You should speak. At least for today. I want to hear your voice for as long as I can.”

“Alright,” you chuckle. “Thank you very much for the fine dinner, Kim Seungmin.”

He laughs along at your exaggerated sentence before replacing your KSL textbook with the plate and taking a seat beside you. ‘How are you feeling?’

“Okay. A little nervous, but at least now there’s hope, right?”

‘Yeah.’

You bite your lip. “Or it could go horribly wrong and I’ll lose the one month I have left.”

“Y/N,” he warns vocally.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop.”

A silence falls over the room as you chew on your food.

“Seungmin.”

‘Yeah?’

“Do you want a divorce?”

You can hear his jaw hit the ground. “What the—”

“I mean, you agreed to a two-month marriage, but if I survive this—”

“When you survive this.”

“When I come out of the surgery, you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

“I’d want nothing more,” he says firmly. “So don’t ever—unless you want to split?”

“I don’t. You’re my best friend.”

He nods. “Then don’t ever mention it again.”

You remember the moment you woke up. The first thought you had was that you’ve got to tell Seungmin. The second thought that crossed your mind came after your vision returned was ‘there he is.’ Asleep on his arms beside your bed, hand around yours, he almost looks like a real husband.

You remember the doctor walking in at that moment. He stumbled a little, surprised to see you awake. You raised a finger to your lips, bonking your nose with the oximeter in the process, and indicated towards the sleeping figure.

The doctor smiled and nodded. “Are you feeling alright?” he whispered.

You nodded, and he began your general checkup.

“The tumor’s all gone,” he informed you. “We’re going to keep you here for two more days, but otherwise, you’re going to live a nice, long life with your husband.”

That was a month ago. The month following the surgery has been rough to say the least. You and Seungmin are often frustrated, and although you both know deep down it isn’t with each other, you often take it out on each other. Communication is just so hard. Sure, the surgeon gave you prosthetic vocal cords, but even with them, it is so hard and takes so long to talk. Between that and your broken sign language, patience slowly became a scarce commodity. You aren’t feeling like you’re being heard, and Seungmin’s finding his efforts to understand you fruitless.

But communication isn’t the only problem, though it certainly exacerbates another one. You are in a weird position where you are his wife but also just a friend. You aren’t sure where you stand in his eyes nor what you can expect from him. Unmet expectations and chiding yourself for even having any is driving you to your wit’s end. It also doesn’t help that day by day, you grow less and less sure where he stands in your eyes either. You’re confused by the twinge in your stomach every time he brings you coffee in the morning and the pang in your heart when he lays down on his side of the bed at night, never crossing over to yours.

Today is one of those days. You want to return to work, but Seungmin is adamant that you have yet to fully recover. You feel guilty imposing on him financially so much, and he can’t understand why you won’t just rely on him.

“I’m your husband!” he argues.

‘Don’t you think I feel bad binding you to that responsibility?’ you sign back, in tears.

He stares at you after that, bewildered. A moment later, he drops his head so you can’t see his eyes and turns for the bedroom without another word.

You slump onto the kitchen chair furiously rubbing tears from your vision. You feel bad of course, but you are scared. Is he sick of you by now? He has to be. After all, you’ve been nothing but a frustration this past month. At least if you put food on the table, he would have one less reason to want to divorce you. Of course, you know Seungmin would never leave you, but he might silently wish he could, and that makes you feel even worse.

You sniffle, drawing your hand roughly across your eyes. In your split second of visual acuity, you see something glimmer under the light where Seungmin had stood. It catches your attention and upon closer inspection, you realize what it is: a tear. A tear? But why would it be there? Seungmin may feel responsible to support you, but you refusing his help shouldn’t undermine him to the point of tears. Unless, you realize, it isn't the subject of the argument that made him cry.

You recall the last thing you expressed before he ran to the bedroom. You recall how he looked at you, hurt and confused. You’ve seen that look once a month ago when you suggested he divorce you. You thought he was offended by your questioning his loyalty as your best friend. In fact, you thought the same thing when he gave you that look again tonight, but Seungmin wouldn’t cry because of that. So then, what would explain the tear on the ground?

And then it hits you.

Suddenly, the things that confuse you become clear. Your frustration melts into understanding and you realize his intentions. At once, your tears dry and your heart feels light.

You immediately stand up. You practically run to the bedroom and find Seungmin already sitting among the sheets.

He looks up when he hears you enter. ‘Come to bed,’ he signs wearily. ‘We can discuss this again tomorrow.’ He goes back to arranging the blankets but looks up once more when he realizes you haven’t climbed in. “Y/N?”

You pull out your phone and walk over to his side of the mattress. He had you record yourself saying random things before you lost your voice, but there is one file he doesn’t know you recorded on your own.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks, perplexed by the sudden determination in your stride.

‘Kim Seungmin,’ you sign. You max the volume on your phone and press play. “I love you.”

~ ad.gold

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wonderfilworld · 3 years

Text

Kitchen Table - F.W.

Fred Weasley x reader where they have some alone time at the burrow.

a/n: this is for a request: “Can you pleasee write a fic about fred x reader(fem) and they are at the burrow making brownies or something (lots of fluff in this part) but then it gets segsy..?”

word count: 2.4k

warnings/contains: NSFW!! smut: unprotected sex, slight mentions of exhibitionism, yeah he fucks you on his kitchen table lol; kissing; cursing; food. As always, if there’s anything I left out please let me know!

Masterlist

It was a sunny, summer day, and the majority of the Weasleys had decided to make a day trip to Diagon Alley while you and Fred opted to stay in. Staying at The Burrow meant absolutely no privacy, so when Molly asked if you wanted to join them on their outing, Fred wrapped his arms around your shoulders and politely informed his mother, I think we’ll stay here and bake brownies, mum.

Molly thought that was a lovely idea and that you should make plenty for everyone to eat for dessert tonight. So, here you and Fred are, mixing ingredients the muggle way because you insisted it’s so much better this way.

It’s a new recipe you’re trying out, the both of you wanted to do something different so you abandoned his family recipe as you copy another one you found in one of his mother’s cookbooks.

“I wonder if it tastes any good,” he says as he dips a finger in the bowl of batter and brings it to his lips. You watch as his cheeks hollow around the digit, and you raise an eyebrow as he hums, “Pretty good.”

You laugh, “Yeah?”

He nods as he dips the same finger in the batter and you scold him, “Fred, quit putting your germs in the food, everyone will be eating those.”

“I’m related to ninety-nine percent of the people in this house, one of whom has the same DNA as me, I think it’ll be fine,” he says. He gets tired of waiting for you to open your mouth, so he puts his finger on your lips and swipes the batter on them. You roll your eyes as you stick your tongue out, licking all that you can to the best of your ability.

“You missed some,” Fred tells you, but instead of bringing his hand to clean it off as you expected, he leans in and plants a kiss on your open mouth.

It’s sticky but you close your eyes anyway, bringing your hand to his face. You expected just a little peck, but what you don’t expect is to feel Fred’s tongue licking at your lips, cleaning the remnants of the brownie batter.

He pulls away, and you give him an irritated look as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Gross,” you say.

Fred snorts and dips his index and middle finger into the brownie batter once more, brings it up, and smears it across your cheek.

“Fred Weasley!” You shout, slapping his shoulder. He’s laughing now, and you can’t help but join in. “I hate you,” you say, but you both know you don’t really mean it.

He calms his laughter down as he puts a hand to your neck, “Here, let me get it for you.” He leans in, and you put a hand to his chest, stopping him.

“Don’t you dare lick me.”

Fred smirks, “You’ve never seemed to have a problem with my licking before.”

You scoff, and before you can say anything else, Fred’s tongue is licking along the trail of batter he left on your face.

You groan in annoyance before Fred leans back and grabs a towel from the counter. He uses it to clean the rest of the sticky substance off your face before saying, “There, as good as new.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t be like that.”

You shoot him a look of displeasure as you reach for the pan, “Let’s just get these finished already.” You stick them in the oven as Fred sets a timer.

“Well, well, well; how will we ever pass the time?” Fred wiggles his eyebrows at you as he removes his apron and throws it across one of the kitchen chairs. He approaches you and places his hands on your waist. “Any ideas?”

“Nope,” you say. You know what he’s insinuating, but you’d rather play oblivious. You want the same thing he does, but with the brownie batter stunt he pulled earlier, he’ll have to work for it.

“Come on, princess,” he says as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your body flush against his. You wrap yours around his neck as he speaks again, “We have the whole house to ourselves for the first time in days, and you’re telling me there’s nothing you want to do?”

“I’d like to get a shower that lasts longer than ten minutes.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny?”

“I think I’m hilarious,” you retort, and you cup his face in your hands as you lean up to kiss him.

His kisses are slow and sweet at first - they always are. Fred loves the sensualness of kissing; loves the way you whine into his mouth when you want more of him. You’re already gripping his red hair between your fingers because he had a point - you haven’t really had any alone time. Fred is very physically affectionate, and the lack of physical affection he’s been getting lately has become a problem.

He breaks away from the kiss, and you’re already chasing after his lips again when he stops you, “Where’d all that attitude go, huh?”

You tug his hair and you whine, “Kiss me.”

“Princess, I’ve been waiting to get you alone for ages, ‘m gonna do a lot more than just kiss you,” Fred says as he drags his lips across your jaw. “Gonna make you feel so good, hm?”

“Please,” you whisper. You’re needy now, don’t feel like teasing anymore and you just want to have your boyfriend again - with you, on you, in you.

Fred’s lips are leaving a wet trail of kisses down the side of your neck and you tug his hair again. He leans back, looking at the way your neck glistens with his spit as he speaks, “Stop doing that,” he growls.

He reaches down and slips his hand under the waistband of your pants, fingers finding your clit as he rubs you over your panties. He can feel how wet you are, and he leans down to capture your lips once again. He kisses you for a minute or two longer before he pulls away.

He smiles to himself as he looks at you, your eyes are closed as his fingers toy with your clit. They’ve slipped under your panties now, and the feeling of his rough fingers rubbing the most sensitive part of you has you squirming. “You know, your dripping pussy doesn’t exactly scream ‘I hate you, Fred’.” He says, mimicking your disapproving tone from earlier. “But maybe that’s just me.”

He slips his middle finger into you then, thick finger stretching your cunt. You drop your mouth open and let out a quiet moan. You open your eyes and can see the way Fred watches your face as he fucks you with his finger. He takes in every time your eyes widen when he touches the spongy spot inside of you; every time you gasp when his thumb rubs your clit.

“You want it?” He questions, and you have to close your eyes again as he presses his thumb against your clit, as he pets the sensitive spot inside you. You nod your head before you lean forward to rest it on his shoulder. You watch as his fingers start to move again, can see how his hand moves beneath your pants and the sight makes you moan and your hips start to move in time with his fingers.

“Beg for my cock, baby. You gotta beg for it if you want me to give it to you.” He says, and his fingers speed up, and he can feel the way your cunt tightens around them.

Maybe it’s because his fingers are moving so fast now, thumb rubbing your clit in tight circles; or maybe it’s the fact that you’re in his family’s kitchen, three feet away from where you all sit to eat every day that impairs your ability to speak. Either way, you can’t respond to him, so Fred pulls his fingers from your cunt, and out of your pants. He brings them to his lips and sucks them clean, the same way he cleaned the brownie batter from them earlier. “Better than the brownies,” he announces with a wink.

Your cheeks heat up, near burning as you speak, “Please, Fred.” You’re desperate, and you’re aware in the back of your mind that his family could show up at any moment. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Guess you better get to begging then.”

You groan, because once Fred sets his mind to something it’s set in stone, so you know he won’t give you what you want until you give him what he wants.

“I need,” you start, bringing a hand down to the front of his pants, fingers grazing his cock that’s straining against the material, “for you to fuck me.” You squeeze him gently then and take in the way it knocks the breath out of him when you do so.

And he realizes that you two are on borrowed time as well, knows that it’s definitely not a smart idea to carry this any further in his fucking kitchen, but Fred’s always been a little wilder than most, and he can’t say that he doesn’t want to lay you down on his kitchen table and pound into you until you’re a crying mess; can’t say he doesn’t want to be reminded of your sweet cunt every time he walks into the kitchen and remembers this moment.

So, he walks you over to the table and before he picks you up to sit on it he pulls your pants and underwear down, helping you remove them completely. You don’t question him - mainly because the desire to have him is just so overwhelming - all you can think about is the way your core pulses in anticipation to finally have your boyfriend fucking into you after so long without him.

He sets you on the table and pushes you to lie down, doesn’t even bother removing your shirt or teasing you any longer, and he pops the button on his own jeans and lowers the zipper. He brings his cock out, giving himself a couple of strokes as he kneads the flesh of your thigh. Fred runs the tip of it through your folds, groaning at how wet you are for him.

He taps his cock against your clit before he speaks, “Say please again.”

You look at him, your hand covering the one of his that’s on your thigh as you feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Your voice is quiet; timid, as you reply, “Please.”

He pushes in then, mouth dropping open at how fucking good it feels. It really has been too long, and you moan loudly as he settles all the way in, cunt clenching around him as you get used to his size.

Fred suddenly remembers how loud you can get, and while he may be literally fucking you on his kitchen table, he would at least like to prevent his family from hearing you scream his name if they return home early, so he brings one of his hands to your face and sticks two of his fingers in your mouth. He starts a steady rhythm of his hips into yours, and groans as he feels you suck on his fingers, not even questioning their intrusion. You still moan as his cock fucks into you but it’s muffled around his digits as he presses down on your tongue.

“Gotta stay quiet, baby, you don’t want my family coming home and hearing you getting fucked like a whore, do you?” He asks as he snaps his hips into you.

You try to shake your head no as best as you can, your hips are moving up to meet each of his thrusts and you know there’s no way you’ll last much longer.

Fred knows this too, and he’s also aware of how embarrassingly fast he’s approaching his own orgasm. He takes both your ankles and positions your legs over his shoulder one by one.

You cry out around his fingers as his cock goes deeper, drool is spilling out of your mouth and Fred looks at you then; his hair has fallen onto his forehead, stray pieces sticking to it due to his perspiring form.

“You like that?” Fred asks, pounding into your cunt almost violently, cock hitting your sweet spot over and over and over.

You’re moaning loudly around his thick fingers, eyes shut tightly. You try your best to reply: yes! you say but it’s gargled around his digits, and all Fred can make out is the way you go uh, uh, uh, every time his hips slap into you.

Fred can’t take his eyes off where you’re connected; the way his cock spreads you open and how well you take all of it. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Your body warms with the praise, along with the warmth that floods through you as you get closer and closer to cumming. It’s when Fred brings his hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles with his thumb as he instructs you, “cum for me baby, want you to make a mess all over my cock,” that has you practically screaming around his fingers as your back lifts off the table, and you cunt spasms around his cock.

It’s the way you get impossible tighter around him that has Fred cumming, fingers pressing harder against your tongue as he helps you both ride out your orgasms. You’re still mumbling incoherent sounds around his digits, his cock still hitting your sweet spot over and over. “That’s it,” Fred sighs as he lazily thrusts, letting every last drop of his cum fill your cunt.

Your legs fall from his shoulder as his fingers remove themselves from your mouth. Fred pulls out of you then and you grunt as he drops his body on top of yours.

“Get off,” you say as you try your best to shove him off of you. “You’re heavy.”

He scoffs as he picks his head up to look at you, “Pretty rude thing to say to someone who just fucked your brains out.”

“Oh my god,” you say, throwing an arm over your face. “Leave me alone.”

He gets up then, puts himself back in his pants as he walks to the counter to grab a wet towel. He cleans you off before helping you get dressed, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I still hate you,” you lie again, and you kiss him on the mouth.

“Uh-huh.”

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

zeke yeager | pta meeting

i literally don’t know how to shut up about him

also this is all because i saw a drabble of dilf!zeke and it’s been on my mind nonstop

warnings/notes: dilf!zeke, fem!reader, cursing, eventual smut, zeke is a divorced/widowed dad(at 33), reader is 21, cursing, zeke has a mean daughter and a sweet daughter, breeding kink, overstimulation, brief choking, slight degradation, shit one shot i’m sorry

you swear to the lord that zeke’s 11 year old daughter is a menace to society.

she’s brutally honest, just like zeke, and mean. she’s oddly mature for her age, and you think it might have something to do with her late mother. she looks almost nothing like zeke, but she certainly inherited her personality from him. she’s got curly dark brown hair that ends at her armpits and zeke’s grey eyes. she has a button nose along with rosy cheeks, something else she inherited from her mother.

“y’know my daddy only dates you cause you take care of me and aloisia,” isolde says to you as she slips on her school shoes.

you feel your eye twitch as you turn to zeke’s other daughter, aloisia, who’s seven and looks exactly like zeke. she’s got his nose, his hair color, and even eye shape. she’s got hazel eyes and a slim face. she’s as bubbly as they come, always greeting people she passes by on the street, always making friends at the park.

“i’m ready,” she holds up her small hand to you, a silent request for you to hold her hand.

“same,” isolde stands up after she swings her back pack onto her back, brushing off the nonexistent dirt on her navy blue skirt.

“zeke, the girls are ready!!” you shout out, taking aloisia into your arms.

zeke comes stumbling out of his bedroom, a white sleep shirt covering his torso and grey sweatpants.

“you’re going in that,” you raise an eyebrow at his attire, “we’re going to a parent-teacher meeting, not the gym.”

“yeah daddy, my teachers are gonna think you’re a bum or something,” isolde snickers.

“i’ll help your dad, go watch tv for a little bit longer,” you chuckle at zeke’s pout and put down aloisia, who runs to the couch.

isolde takes off her backpack and joins her sister on the couch, putting her feet on the coffee table as aloisia puts on avatar: the last airbender.

“i thought the dress code was casual,” zeke furrows his brows as you take his hand and lead him back into his bedroom.

“it is. sweatpants are not casual, they’re lounge wear,” you snicker as he flops onto the bed while you close the door and go into the closet.

you know zeke’s rolling his eyes at you, judging from his silence. you grab ahold of a white button up with light grey vertical stripes on it, trying to picture your boyfriend in the shirt. you shake your head and put it back on the rack, deciding that the default outfit would be best for now. you take a white button up off the hanger and grab a pair of black dress pants from his dresser. you hand him a pair of black loafers to go along with it and some long black socks that would cover up his ankles, you’re so glad you reminded him that they exist. you throw a black belt next to him as well.

“this is boring.”

“zeke, this is a pta meeting, the whole thing will be boring,” you watch him rid himself of his shirt.

“should i wear a tie?”

“no, you’ll look better with one button undone,” you smile as he struggles to balance correctly when he puts on his pants.

he tucks the shirt inside his pants and slips on the belt with ease. he unbuttons a button before he slips on his socks.

“i thought today was my day off,” he smirks at you while you roll up his cuffs a bit.

you roll your eyes and he slips on his shoes. he doesn’t need to do his hair, it’s just effortlessly neat.

“time to go,” you scurry to the front door with the girls following behind you.

“he doesn’t look homeless anymore,” isolde notes when zeke follows you all out of the door.

“not funny,” he huffs while he locks the door behind him and the girls get into the black SUV zeke drives.

you help aloisia buckle herself up in the car seat and then slip into the passenger’s seat next to zeke. he’s grumbling something about ‘uncle eren’ and ‘getting the girls’ as he turns the car on.

————

you try to ignore the women ogling zeke as you all walk down the school hallway. you send isolde off to her class since her meeting is after aloisia’s.

“i hope you’ve been good,” you say to aloisia, who’s holding both your’s and zeke’s hands.

“i have! ms greene says i’m one of the best,” she gloats, and you hope for zeke’s sake that ms greene isn’t bluffing.

you three walk into the second grade classroom, which is empty because you reserved the appointment, only to find the teacher isn’t in there. it only seems to make aloisia more excited as she tugs you and zeke towards the class wall with a bunch of pictures of it.

“look, look!!” she jumps as she points at her’s, “they said to draw our family and she said i did a good job!!”

the picture is a messily drawn family portrait of zeke, isolde, and aloisia.

“you drew (name) very pretty,” zeke smiles at you when you snap your head back to look at the picture in closer detail.

there you are, stick figure holding hands with zeke’s and aloisia with isolde on zeke’s other side. you never expected to be on aloisia’s family portrait, you’d barely been in her life for two years and weren’t exactly motherly. you’re a struggling college student that she occasionally sees crying at the kitchen table with zeke comforting you from behind. she, on very rare occasions, sees you come home, absolutely plastered, with a sober zeke leading you to his room. you’re the woman that wakes her up when you cry on the couch late at night. you were, admittedly, okay with not being seen as their mom.

it wasn’t your place, for so many reasons. one, you didn’t exactly act as a role model. two, you could never replace her mother and would never try. three, zeke never referred to you as such. you’d only ever act like their mother whenever you were in certain situations. but that didn’t mean you didn’t want them to see you as a maternal figure.

it made you want to cry, but luckily you didn’t. you just smile at the picture and pat aloisia’s head in approval.

“you did do a very good job,” you smile down at her and before you can give her a hug, you notice a woman walking into the room.

“oh, you must be zeke yeager, aloisia’s dad! i’m ms greene,” her face flushes while she holds out her hand for him to shake.

“yea, that’s me. it’s nice to meet you,” he shakes her hand.

she turns to you, “oh my goodness, i didn’t know aloisia and isolde had an older sister!”

“no, she’s my girlfriend of two years,” zeke chuckles uncomfortably.

“i’m (name), nice to meet you,” you wave your hand, “i’m just here to keep an eye on aloisia while you two talk.”

zeke and her go to a table in the corner of the room and aloisia drags you towards a bookshelf.

thirty minutes of aloisia rambling about her favorite book go by seemingly quick, and you watch as she cheers when her classmates walk into the room. zeke’s walking towards you, holding a thumbs up with a cocky smile, for whatever reason.

you kiss aloisia goodbye, who doesn’t seem too fazed, and head towards isolde’s classroom. you hold hands with zeke while swinging them back and forth while he repeats everything the teacher’s said to him.

“i can’t believe my little girl’s at a third grade reading level,” he exclaims, “that vocabulary studying did wonders!!”

“you should thank me since i was the one who studied with her cause she asked about my assignments for class,” you taunt and laugh when zeke pulls you closer by the shoulder.

that’s how the two of you walk into isolde’s classroom. she’s sitting at a table with her teacher, miss dunst, and fidgeting with her thumbs anxiously. she’s covering half of her face with her hair. with the one eye you can see it looks puffy and her cheeks are red, as if she’d been crying.

it has both you and zeke rushing to sit down on both side of her, zeke asking miss dunst what happened while you tend to isolde.

“hey, why are you crying,” you’re squatting by her chair and you reach to brush the hair out of her face.

when you see her other eye, you gasp out at the black eye starting to form on her eye.

“oh my god, zeke, look at her face!!”

“that is what i wanted to speak about with you. isolde has been getting bullied by some of her classmates. today, a little girl hit her after isolde defended herself while they argued,” the poor woman looks sad watching you and zeke check isolde for more wounds.

“why has she been bullied? she’s not mentioned this to me or (name),” zeke asks while examining her eye more closely.

“well, during the first day of school, isolde introduced herself and told the class about her family. she mentioned you, mr yeager, and her sister. the kids asked about her mother before i could stop them and she was honest with them and said that she had passed. she then said that she still, in a way, had a mother. your girlfriend, mr yeager.

“i asked her occupation, to which isolde said a college student. the kids got loud but i managed to quiet them down, and i thought it was the end of that. after that, her classmates started to pick on her verbally about your age gap and her late mother. i didn’t find out about it until this morning when isolde was hit,” miss dunst frowns as she explains.

before zeke could open his mouth, you speak up, “i’m the girlfriend, (name). i am hoping that these children will be punished accordingly and that their parents be notified. if this has really been going on all year like you say, then at this point their parents should be involved.”

“of course! i’m giving all of their parents a call after classes today. the little girl who hit her is sitting down with the principal right now, so she should be safe if you two would like her to stay at school.”

“give us a moment,” you smile kindly, which she returns, and walks to her desk to give you ‘privacy’.

“isolde, why didn’t you tell your daddy or i about what was going on,” you ask while she hugs zeke.

she peeks her head out of his chest, “didn’t want to seem weak.”

“why would you be worried about that,” zeke asks.

“after mom died, you were always so sad and stressed. i thought that if i was strong, you would be happier,” she explains shakily.

“isolde, look at me,” you put a hand on her knee, “you were six years old when your mommy died. six year olds shouldn’t know how to accurately take care of themselves, it’s why your daddy was there. i’m sure your daddy appreciated the effort, but i promise you that all he wanted you to be was his happy little girl. you don’t need to be strong at 11 years old, and you don’t need to be strong all the time. like you said, your daddy was sad when your mom died. it didn’t make him weak, it made him a person. and that’s what you are; a person. a little person.”

she sniffles and nods at you, “people can’t do everything by themselves. i’m sorry if we made it feel like you couldn’t tell us, and it’s totally understandable that you felt that way.”

zeke hums in agreement, “we love you, baby. so much.”

“love you too,” she mumbles with a small smile.

“do you want to stay at school,” zeke asks, he didn’t want to force her into a situation where she didn’t want to be.

“i have a math test later, don’t wanna miss it,” she sighs, now looking up at you.

“(name)...?”

you tilt your head while you wait for her answer.

“i’m sorry i’ve been so mean to you. everyone was making fun of me and called it weird, so i guess i wanted to believe that too,” your heart warms whenever she looks away shyly.

great, now zeke’s horny from seeing you act motherly.

————

ever since you and zeke had stepped off school campus, one of his hands was always touching you. it didn’t matter where, zeke was shameless.

even as you unlock the door to the his house, he has his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around your waist. his lips are kissing softly at your neck and his hands are shamelessly groping at your boobs.

“zeke, what is up with you,” you laugh whenever you open the door, kicking off your shoes immediately.

“horny,” he admits, swiftly following after you and locking the door behind himself.

“what about this morning made you horny,” you ask shyly while you sit on the couch.

zeke’s buttons are halfway undone and his belt is somewhere on the floor. he squeezes in behind you, once again pressing his chest against your back.

“acting maternal, i guess,” his beard tickles the back of your neck as he kisses it.

“is this why you told isolde it was okay if she wanted to stay at school,” you snicker at his fingers pulling your shirt over your head.

“why else,” he scoffs, “my only day off in a while and i’m horny. sounds like a deal.”

you whimper whenever he starts biting at your neck and when his large hands slip under your bra.

“zeke, if we’re gonna do it on the couch, can i at least lay on my back,” you ask while zeke unclips your bra.

without a word, he’s thrown you onto the couch on your back and climbing on top of you seconds later. your hands quickly unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it halfway off of his body.

zeke throws the shirt onto the floor and kisses you, hands running up and down your torso. he pulls away to kiss and suck at your neck while his hands grope at your tits. you’re stuck between laughing and moaning at zeke’s beard dragging against your neck.

his mouth trails down to your tits, mouth attaching to your left tit while he continues to grope your right one. you let out a moan whenever he tweaks your nipple with his right hand and bites softly at your left nipple.

he pulls away from your chest, tugging off your pants and panties in frustration. it leaves you laughing and assisting him. whenever your pants do come off, he throws them to the ground and spreads your legs.

“zeke, they’re not opening too far, we’re on a couch,” you note, but soon stand corrected as zeke grabs your ankle and puts it on the back of the couch.

“nevermind,” you snicker at his cocky smirk, as if he’d done something amazing.

your other leg hangs off the couch, leaving you spread open for zeke. zeke spreads open your glistening folds with thumbs and gives a mindful lick up to your clit. after realizing that his beard is not rubbing against you uncomfortably, he dives in like it’s a pool, which he thinks it is because of how wet you are.

his mouth his sucking on your clit vigorously, as if he were a man starved. you’re moaning wantonly as he suddenly ups the speed. how did he even go that fast, you have no clue, but either way you enjoy it. your back in arching off of the couch and your toes are curling as zeke starts bringing you closer to an orgasm.

“zeke!! i’m... i’m gonna come,” you tug at his hair as your legs start to convulse and close around his head.

he only goes faster, and you wonder to yourself if zeke is powered by batteries or something. but the thought is quickly shut off whenever you finally orgasm, moaning out in ecstasy and throwing your head back against the couch cushions.

zeke slows down his pace, helping you ride through your orgasm. he pulls away whenever you’ve calmed down, fingers immediately pressing at your tight entrance.

“zeke... i-i’m too sensitive,” your complaint goes ignored as two of zeke’s fingers are suddenly inside of you.

“don’t care, deal with it,” he huffs as his fingers stretch you out.

with his other hand, his thumb is rubbing at your puffy clit at the same time of his fingers curling inside of you. your hips buck up with a mewl and zeke chuckles at the sight. unlike last time, he’s moving his tantalizingly slow.

his fingers curl once more, rubbing against the spongy part inside of you sweetly. you buck your hips up again at the contact and curl your toes whenever zeke starts abusing that spot with overwhelming speed. curling his fingers against the spot each time he pistons his fingers in and out of you.

“zeke!!” you come again while moaning his name and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

zeke chuckles when he pulls his fingers out, spreading them apart to watch your juices stick together in strings. he plops the fingers in his own mouth, rubbing his other hand up and down your quivering thigh as he pulls away from your sloppy cunt.

he pulls his fingers out of his mouth with an obnoxious ‘pop’ and pulls off his pants and boxers at the same time. he groans at his cock hitting against his lower stomach.

you stare at zeke’s cock. the tip is flushed with a bashful pink and his hair is trimmed nicely against his groin. he’s more girth than he is length, a whopping 6.5 inches, which is something he absolutely gets arrogant about.

“hurry,” you huff while watching zeke fist his cock.

“nah, you gotta beg for it, baby,” the corner of his mouth tugs upwards as he watches you wipe away your tears from the previous orgasm.

“zeke,” you whine and wiggle your hips, “please please please give me your cock. need it so bad.”

he hums thoughtfully, and it already gives you his answer.

“please... i want it so bad, need to be fucked by you,” you pout but perk up at his dismissive shrugging.

“since you want it so bad,” he’s laughing while he puts his right hand on your pelvis and his other on his shaft to enter you.

you gasp at the feeling of him pushing inside of you, grabbing for his, now, free hand. when you catch his hand, you guide it to your bruised neck for him to grasp on. he’s chuckling once again, fingers lightly squeezing against your throat as he continues to push himself in.

he groans whenever he bottoms out, letting go of your neck to grab at your plush thighs. he pushes the towards your chest and thrusts into you shallowly after he spits on his cock buried in your pussy. he hits you deeper than he would’ve before, that much is obvious by your moans raising octaves when he starts to thrust roughly.

your hands reach up to grab the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you than before. he’s groaning at the feeling of your pussy squeezing onto him each time he pulls out and thrusts back into you.

“fuck... zeke!!” you cry and throat your head back.

“fuck,” he grunts, “you’re so fuckin’ tight. even after how much i fuck this pretty little cunt each week.”

his words make you whimper and squeeze your grip on his thighs, making crescent moons into the skin.

“i’m gonna come... i’m gonna come again,” you pant out, back already starting to arch, “come with me please..!”

he speeds up his thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass getting increasingly louder as he does so.

“you wanna come with me so badly,” he asks tauntingly while you nod.

“god, zeke, please,” you try to ignore the saliva and tears on your face as you continue to scream out for zeke.

“i’ll give my sweet girl my cum since she asked so nicely,” he’s biting his lip whenever he feels his orgasm getting closer.

“yes! yes! please,” you sound so desperate as your orgasm gets closer, “zeke, please, fuck a baby into me, please..!”

zeke almost comes right then at your pleas, but ends up stilling and adjusting his stance to thrust into you more efficiently. the sudden stop makes you whine but it’s soon interrupted with a gasp as he jackhammers into you harder and faster than before.

“fuckin’ whore, wanting me to fuck a baby into you. to make you a mom. since you asked so nicely, i’ll oblige,” he berates.

“you me to fuck a baby into you? make you a mom?” it has you nodding frantically.

zeke continues to degrade you as you’re orgasm comes rushing towards you, fingers now clawing at his thighs as a signal.

zeke thrusts into you two more times before the two of you manage to orgasm simultaneously. his jackhammering slows into a grind, helping the two of you ride out the euphoria you’ve both just went through.

you whimper whenever he pulls out, uncomfortable at the sudden emptiness in you. he watches his cum start to dribble out of you, telling you to keep your legs up. he scurries off to find a paper towel or something to wipe it up with before it falls onto the couch. you shiver whenever you feel a wet cloth wipe away the dribbling cum.

he’s wiping down your chest and neck as well with a clean side of it after you put your legs down. he carries you off into his bathroom, sitting you on the counter while he readies the shower.

“i can’t believe you said that,” he raises a questioning eyebrow at you while he checks the water’s temperature.

“i wouldn’t mind having your kid,” you shrug and watch him put two towels on the counter next to you.

“i might just give you one, don’t say that,” he jokes as he starts to hug you.

“‘m okay with that,” you sigh and lean into his touch, enjoying his warmth.

“you’re stupid,” he snorts and kisses at your shoulder.

“only for you,” you snuggle your head into his neck with a giggle.

“i love you,” he sighs.

“i love you. enough to have your kids.”

maybe in a few hours when you weren’t bathing in the afterglow, zeke would bring it up to you.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #zeke yeager #zeke x you #shingeki no kyojin zeke #zeke yeager x reader #zeke x reader #zeke jaeger #attack on titan zeke #zeke smut #zeke aot #tw: breeding

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Uncertainty in the Household

Picture Perfect Series

TW: talk and action for miscarriage, slight manipulation

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: I wanted to explore the reader and Danny’s relationship in this chapter, so i hope you like it, first part is p rough with the whole miscarriage, so you're free to skip to after the second - if you're uncomfy with that

Tears fall into your palms as your fingertips dig into your scalp, your belly- while still early in the pregnancy, still feels as if it’s protruding, and you sit on the shared bed, a faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol lingers in the air and you’re alone. For now, at least. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were Danny who was the father. You want to kid yourself, to tell such lies that he could be the father, that sleeping with- that being forced into whatever sick game Ghostface has with you- that he didn’t impregnate you. You blame yourself. You should have taken the morning after pill, you should have purged yourself of everything and anything to make sure that you didn’t let yourself have his child. Your stomach twists and turns, a thin veil of acid on your tongue and you wonder how to explain this to Danny. If you even should. It’s still early, maybe you could get rid of the child before anyone has to know. Your eyes widen and you sit up, your eyes scanning the room and you let out a breath, nodding to yourself.

You can get rid of the child. No one knows. You made sure to throw away the pregnancy tests in a dumpster at a park and rip the receipts before anyone could ever see. No one has to know.

Loneliness, while always being your aggressor, has finally worked in your favor. You rush to put on your clothes, ignoring the burning desire to cry, your purse in your hand, you walk to the front door, pausing to leave a note to your partner.

“Went out, I’ll bring dinner.” Something short and simple. Marked with a little heart at the end that makes you feel a bit sick, like it’s something like a lie that you’re telling him. You place the pen down and grab the car keys, rushing down the steps. Each step down the stairs is something that feels heavy, chains around our ankle and the child- no, you can’t call it that. You know you’ll get attached. You’ve heard about the tactics that are used to pressure vulnerable people into keeping their unborn children, and you won’t be one of those. You can’t. Not now and you’re sure not ever. The car purrs to life, the steering wheel a bit too hot from being under the sun and you wait, letting the cool air fan against your already hot body and you reverse out of the parking lot.

You return with tuna, alcohol, fenugreek, a peppermint and aloe vera plant, a thin bag that is filled with peaches, different varieties of caffeine that you can already taste, and pineapple. Your hands ache, the base of your fingers sore from the heaviness of the bags that you stubbornly carried up to the apartment. You were not going to make multiple trips, that much was certain about your day. You hear his voice before you see him, a greeting cut off as he realizes just how much you’re carrying. Danny’s eyes widen, and he rushes off the couch, taking bags away and your palms are redden from the indents of the bags.

“Are we having a feast?” His hands are inside a bag and he pulls out wrapped fish, and he stops, turning to you, a tight smile on his lips that you don’t recognize. “I didn’t know you liked fish.” He places it down and watches as you carefully place a clinking bag down onto the table. “Alcohol too, huh? What-” he turns to you, a nervous chuckle filling the space of his words- “Did I forget a special date?”

You shake your head no, already biting into an unwashed peach, trying to ignore how many hands and bacteria have touched the fruit before you. “Just-” you speak with a full mouth and turn your head, covering your mouth with your hand and taking another bite. You swallow and take a gulp of air. “I was just craving fish is all. Why? Do you not like fish?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that I- I just wanted soup, and-” your smile falls and he shakes his head. “I can get soup tomorrow. How long until the fish is down?”

“Actually-” you reach into another bag and pull out two containers- “I was able to buy some sushi on the way home.” You pull out a pack and slide the container to him. You spare him a glance as he stares at the sushi with an odd, angry feeling. “Oh, I’m uh, I have tomorrow off, by the way.” You meet his eyes for a minute and he gives you a nod, allowing you to continue.

“You’ve been throwing up lately,” he adds, taking a bite from his plate. Your heart sinks and you try to mask your emotions, turning around to grab a bottle opener from one the drawers. “I’ve been worried, you know. Maybe-” the chair squeaks and when you turn, he’s sitting down, an unopened beer beside his plate- “I should take tomorrow off too and we can go to the doctor. Just to see if you don’t have the flu or-” he tilts his head, his lips twitching- “if it isn’t anything else.”

A part of you wants to tell him your fear. You don’t want to be pregnant, and you hope that if you manifest it enough, it’ll be true. But you also fear that he wants a family and you’ll be the one ruining it for him. Maybe you aren’t even pregnant. Maybe it’s just needless worry over a few faulty exams, but you can’t risk it. Not now. Not if it has the chance to be someone other than Danny’s.

With a bottle opener in hand, you walk towards Danny, his eyes on you the entire time. You place the bottle opener beside his drink, a hand on his shoulder and the other brushing back his hair, combing it to the side. His hands leave his meal and rest against your hips, his gaze up at you and there’s a hint of a smile at his lips, and you lean down, pressing your lips over his scar that adorns his forehead.

“We have bills to pay Dan,” you mutter, “at least one of us should be responsible.” You close your eyes tightly to avoid tears spilling over, the hand on his shoulder tightening and when you pull away, he looks unbothered for a moment before giving you a forced smile. “Let’s eat, okay? You can tell me about your day.”

All it takes is one doctor appointment to confirm that you are not pregnant. It was just a scare. And as if life and everything else in control of you wanted to laugh, you bled through your underwear on the ride home. The vomiting in the morning was your body simply pretending to have the signs, your mind so strong that it created a falsehood of pregnancy, just because you were so scared and sure of it.

Life is odd for the moment. You tried so hard to get rid of the unwanted child and they were never there to begin with. You had to go through with the nervousness that consumed you. The call to the doctor, the waiting, the glances that Danny gave you as if he knew something. You wonder if he did know. He isn’t dumb, a bit dense when it comes to your feelings, but he’s smart in a way that matters. You hope that he doesn’t know, for both your sake and his. The little scare will be something that you take to your grave, hoping that it’ll remain just that.

The fan is turned on with a simple swipe of your hand against the light switch, the room filling with white noise. You sit on his couch, your body stiff as if it were the first time that you had visited his home. You still remember how it was. Dirty. You hadn’t expected that from him. There was trash all over, a sort of musty smell and an empty fridge. He hadn’t seemed embarrassed, but rather mildly inconvenienced even though he was the one to invite you over. However, now the place is as clean as it can be, the musty smell now replaced by a slight twinge of alcohol and tobacco, but with an overlapping floral scent from one of your candles. You can’t help but wonder if he minds that you added bits and pieces of yourself into his home. He calls it your home too, almost too eager to make sure that you know that you belong here, but even so, it doesn't feel like your home. It’s too empty, too devoid of your touch. You still feel as if you’re a guest, waiting and cleaning, tending to him when he needs it.

The simple fact of the matter is, this isn’t your home. Your stuff, your personal items that you decorated your home are still in boxes shoved under the bed. You miss your home. “I miss my home,” you say to yourself, tears pricking in your eyes. The rent was cheap, and the landlords were kind enough, but it’s gone. The place scooped up by some stranger and the thought has your stomach rising.

You’ve thought about leaving here. Perhaps not Danny, but maybe that would be a consequence of you leaving. It was too rushed. You were too scared of Ghostface invading your life again. You made a rash decision that the both of you now have to pay for. He lost his space, his privacy and you can tell he holds some resentment, the way he slams the doors close, how he locks the rooms and won’t speak to you until he needs something, until he’s pressuring you to kiss him with a half-hearted apology on his tongue.

You glance at the coffee table, old and cracked, the paint on the wood chipped and revealing the unfurnished finish. The photo frame is cold, a slight layer of dust over it, concealing your nervous smile and Danny’s wide one. He isn't happy, but he’s smiling. You both only have a few pictures with each other. It isn’t much, and you’re surprised that the photographer wouldn’t want more, but it can’t be helped.

The photo is placed back on the table, and you lay down on the sofa, grabbing at the throw blanket that you added. Your arms act as a pillow underneath your weary head, and you stare at the photo, training over how his arms are wrapped tight round you and how close that he holds you.

Daniel walks into his shared apartment with you, and he immediately spots your shoes in a different position than when he left. He frowns, walking further into the apartment, his eyes scan the room, his eyes landing on a crumpled bag of fast food on the table, the drink creating a water ring on the table. It isn’t like you to be so careless.

The drink rattles in his hand, nothing but cold liquid is inside the container. His bag is heavy as he leans it against the wall on the floor, and he finally finds you. You’re asleep on the couch, your body curled with the decorative throw blanket covering your body as the fan spins above.

He lowers himself to watch you, your soft breaths and the way your face is relaxed. You’re asleep and it brings him back to a time where you were under him, where night concealed him and he was able to hover above you. It’s much different now, you’re still scared but he’s able to kiss you, to have you rake your nails down his back and hold his hand as if it’s the only thing to keep you sane.

A calloused hand cups your cheek, your skin soft and blemished with faded scars that he’s studied meticulously night after night. You wake up with his fingers tracing over your face and he doesn’t make a sound, everything about him is stoic and he wonders how you are seeing this situation in your eyes. Are you scared? Do you know? Are you pregnant? What are you thinking of him at this very moment? You blink slowly at him and he’s reminded of a cat, watching and tired, and there’s a burning desire in him that wonders what you would do if he strangled you right now. Slowly, his hand lowers, his knuckles brushing over your cheekbones and down your jawline, touching against your pulse on your neck and he feels it quicken. Your eyes never leave his and he doesn’t look away. He’s sure that he could convince you that it was a joke or that maybe it was just a dream that you had. It’s been a while since you had such a vivid dream.

Your hand creeps from under the blanket and you hold the back of his hand, moving it back to your face, letting your lips press against the side of his palm in a soft kiss. “Danny,” you say in a sleepy voice as your eyes close. “How was work?” Your hand that holds his becomes limp and he watches as it slides down his hand, catching on the cuff of his sweater until it dangles off the couch.

It wasn’t smart of him to invite you to live with him. He was too reckless, too needy and desperate to have you beside him that he just wasn’t thinking. Even if you are naïve and easily pulled into a false sense of security, he can’t just explain his costume, he can’t explain the knife and all the careful cleaning kits that he has. This is all too risky.

But he can’t throw you out either. He’s become attached. You’re like a pet to him now, and as every disgruntled man says on television, don’t name something or else you’ll get attached. And now he’s fallen victim to it. It’s nice to have such an easy fuck around, to know that he cold do whatever he wanted to you and you’ll stay here with him, because the other option is much scarier. The corners of his lips pull upwards and he pulls his hand away, fixing the blanket above you and he rises from his knees with a sigh.

“Another dead body,” he says with a chipper voice that he can’t seem to hide. “All signs point to our residential serial killer.” It’s much too risky to have Ghostface visit you, you thought this as your safe haven, you have to know and think that it still is, but fuck does he miss your fear and how pitifully you cried. “You never told me why you hated him so much.” He has to bite the inside of his cheeks when your brows knit together. “I know he’s a killer, but did he ever hurt anyone close to you?”

Your eyes shift and you pull the blanket closer to you, the folds stretching across your frame and showing the curves of your body. “I’m not sure, I just-” you catch his eyes and he sees you visibly shrink away from him- “I’m scared of his mask.”

His mouth fills with saliva as he thinks about just how frightened you are. “What a shame, I was hoping to get into roleplay.” He could think about you know, how you'd hit and scream, how he could pretend that it was all part of the act and just hold you down, thinking about how you would put the pieces together and sob.

“That isn’t funny,” you say in a high-pitched voice, already cracking and sitting up to lessen the distance between the two of you. He rolls his eyes in response, standing up from his crouch with a hiss between his teeth. “People are dead,” you whine, as if he hasn’t been keeping up with the news with you. “He killed people.” You’re much more emotional than he thought, but you’ve held your mouth for so long, suffered in your silence and in your vulnerability; it's only natural you would have such strong emotions.

“Relax, it was a joke.” He takes off his jacket and tosses it beside you, watching as you pull yourself closer, further away from his jacket and only staring at it with confusion, as if he dared to have the audacity to throw something your way.

“A dumb one,” you say with with a pout, gripping tighter onto the blanket.

“I said relax,” Danny says in a stern voice, already done with the conversation. He may have been the one to start it but he was hoping for a more playful one, or rather one where you go along with him rather than try to fight him.

“Whatever,” you huff, and he sees you bundle the blanket in your arms, pushing yourself to the further end of the couch, looking at the wall with furrowed brows as your hand tries to discreetly cover your pout.

“Great,” he says sarcastically, turning around and walking towards the fridge. “Now, you’re angry,” he says loud enough for you to hear.

He rises back up with a bottle in his hand, toying with the cap, letting the ridges play against his fingertips. You don’t respond and he can feel his anger start to rise, something thick that lodges in his throat and makes it impossible to swallow. You aren’t answering him. Usually this would be a good sign, something that means he still has you wrapped around his finger, but it feels different. You aren’t moving from your spot, and you aren’t apologizing to him. He puts the bottle down, and runs his hand down his face with a heavy sigh.

“I think,” your voice is small, and he can barely hear it, but he can, “we both rushed into this… relationship. We should have taken it slow.” When you turn to him, he sees that your eyes are wet and you try to take steady breaths but to no avail. “I’m happy with you, but I don’t think we were thinking clearly when we chose to-” your eyes glance around and you look away from him- “to do this.”

His jaw twitches and he watches you, anger boiling inside of him, white-hot that makes it impossible to think and if he could, he'd grab the knife on the counter and stick it in your back but he can’t. Copper fills his mouth and he turns on his heel, the bedroom door slamming behind him, loud enough that he can hear your yelp and loud enough that it makes his ears ring. He wonders what the neighbors would think of it, but he can’t really bring himself to care. He’ll find an excuse, he always does.

His name is muted through the door and he rummages through the closet, pulling out a worn backpack and knocking a few clothes off the anger that he steps on. You enter the room just in time to witness him opening your drawer and throwing your things inside without a care.

“Danny?” Your voice sounds so fearful and it makes him stop for a second, and when he looks at you, your foot slides back out of the room. You’re terrified of him right now. “Danny, what are you doing?” You ask in a small voice, as you take a tentative step inside the room.

“You want to leave right?” He asks in a condescending tone, stepping closer to you with the back held tight in his hand. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll help you pack.”

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t you say that we rushed into this?” With every word he stalks towards you and he tosses the backpack onto the bed, only to miss and have it slide down, the contents inside spilling onto the floor. You look away from him and that only adds fuel to the fire that is tarnishing him from the inside. “Didn’t you?” He shouts, slapping his hand on the dresses, rattling your bottles of perfume and creams. He stares at you, his nostrils flared and jaw tight as he tries to keep a sense of composure. “Did you or did you not?” He asks, his voice eerily calm as he lets his nails drag along the wall. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m sorry, Dan,” you cry, your eyes spilling over with tears. “I wasn’t thinking. Please, I promise, it was just a long day and I’m sorry.”

You’re pathetic and not in the way that he wants you. He turns around and you grab his arm, latching yourself around his forearm. His name is on your tongue and before you have a chance to finish it, he turns around, his hand raised, and mouth pulled into an ugly snarl. You let go of him immediately and try to shield yourself, but he aims for the wall instead. His palm stings and you let out a choked sob.

He can’t think. Not with you here. Not with his emotions running so high. Not when his palm stings and there’s something dark brooding inside of him. He takes a deep breath and he forces himself to look at you. You stare up at him with worry creasing your features.

“It's okay,” his words are still tense, but your body lowers its defenses slightly, and he knows he’s on the right track. “I was angry.” He pulls his hand away from the wall and rubs it with his other, the palm of his hand a light shade of pink. “Why don’t we have dinner, huh?” He tries to give you a charming smile, but it falls flat. “We’ll talk about it over dinner. You know-” he reaches for your hand and grabs it in both of his- “like couple’s therapy or some shit. How does that sound?”

You break away from his gaze, glancing at the floor, and he knows your habits and tics by now. You’ll scan the floor, and look up at him and smile and nod. You play your part so well, and if he had to be honest with himself, he can’t lose that. Not yet. Not when you’re so dependent on him and him on you. He waits for our smile, to give you his own to show that he’s okay, that his anger has subsided for now, but you never give him that. Your mouth parts open and there are tears in your eyes, your hand shakes and grows clammy in his. He calls your name, but you don’t respond. Your breath is ragged, sharp inhales and shaky exhales, and he follows your gaze to the floor under the bed.

In the corner of his eye, he spots white and his nails dig into your skin. “Go get me a beer, I’ll-” he looks down at you and your eyes are stuck, glued to the floor where you can see the face that has haunted you- “I’ll clean up, okay? Just give me a moment.” It isn’t enough, you’re still looking where the mask lays, the bottom half of the face peeking from under your undergarments. Your mouth opens in a silent question and when you look back at him, you’re scanning his face. His body runs hot, his mouth going dry and he says the only thing that can come to mind. “I told you I wanted to try roleplay.”

“I thought you were,” you hesitate, and your tongue peeks to wet your lips, “I thought you were kidding,” you say breathlessly, your words slow as if you were hypnotized and the truth of the matter is, is that you are. You’re ruined by the mask that lies on the floor, the mouth of it the only thing that you can see. You peel away from him and have your back turned to him, your arms coming up to give yourself a hug. “I’ll go get you a beer,” you say in a daze, and when you turn back, your smile is weak, and you can’t look at him for long, your eyes magnetized to the mask on the floor.

He’s left alone in the room, his nails digging into the palm of his hands and red in his vision. The worst part of it all is that he can’t go out tonight. Not when you saw his mask. You’re naïve, and easily spooked, but even you could put two and two together. Even your suspicions would start to rise as you questioned why there was a murder the night he went out. Why Ghostface hasn’t come back for you. You’d suspect him and he can’t have that, not when you’re already so fearful of him.

#ghostface #dbd ghostface #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #danny johnson imagine #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #dead by daylight #dbd #i really like this one #mainly the ending #of the chapter

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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donutloverxo · 3 years

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NSFW alphabet | Chris Evans

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - This is written just for fun. I don't know Chris or what he likes lol. I also don't own the alphabet format.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Warnings - rpf, smut, daddy kink, d/s relationship, dom Chris, anal stuff, semi public sex, spanking, sex toys, praise kink.

Word count - 2.5k

A=Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Chris is clingy as fuck after sex. He’ll hold you close to his heart (you being the lil spoon of course) and not let go the entire night. With soft kisses on your face, hair and on any bruises he might have left on you. With some pillow talk about how his love for you can overwhelm him sometimes, that he can’t imagine not having you not that he gets to have a taste of you almost every night. Sometimes he likes to listen to you talk about your day, or share a deep secret you hadn’t told anyone else.

His clinginess is something you adore. Something which you would usually be fine with, how he just could not keep his hands off of you, but when you’re somewhere tropical and hot it becomes a bit of a problem.

You were visiting him while he was filming for red Sea diving resort, after seeing him in the beard and the longer hair you couldn’t help yourself and you just jumped on him. After some hot and sweaty sex, you had moved away from him a little, with your back to him you wiped the sheen off of your forehead with the back of your hand, trying to fan yourself with your own hand, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he had growled. Not wanting even an inch of distance between the two of you. You tried to protest because you needed to cool off but eventually gave in.

B=Body Part (Their favorite body part)

Everyone knows the answer to this. He likes your ass the most. It doesn’t matter if it’s a flat ass or a thick one he’ll love it the same because it’s a part of you. He likes to smack it, he likes looking at it, he may even like to fuck it. Some stretch marks would just be the cherry on top.

His next favorite would have to be your hips. He loves to see their silhouette through your yoga pants or jeans, or even a dress. After a night of some rough fucking they usually bear his handprints which he loves obviously because it’s almost like he branded you as his own.

C=Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person)

It’s always a battle with the two of you when it comes to cumming. Because Chris likes to see your body covered in his seed, particularly your face, ass and breasts, and you like to have him do it inside you, be it your pussy or your mouth.

Which he doesn’t mind obviously, he likes the idea of his spend being in your tummy, but he also likes taking pictures of your ass covered with his spunk. You just look so pretty when he comes on your face🥺

D=Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Chris has fucked you in more bathrooms than you can remember. It’s become a thing or almost a ritual now. Whenever he takes you to an event or a party, or just a casual dinner at his family or friends house, you’ll end up on your knees in the bathroom with his dick in your mouth, or he’ll worship you and eat you out till you literally can’t even walk straight.

It started when you accompanied him to an important event, he was extremely anxious. And you felt helpless because you didn’t know how to make him feel better. But you did know one thing that always lifts his mood up. So you dragged him to the men’s room and sucked him off. He was much relaxed the rest for the evening thanks to you.

E= Experience (How experienced are they?)

VERY. He’s extremely experienced. He has a lot of knowledge and puts it to good use on you. Which can be a little daunting if you’re more on the inexperienced side but don’t ne afraid. He’ll train you really well, you just have to be a good girl and listen.

F= Favorite Position

His favorite position would be doggy style. Where he’s doing from behind, with you on your hands and knees, or with your head down and ass perched up to him because you never can stay up right when he’s doing you so well. He has full access to your ass, if you’re okay with it he would use his fingers on you, spank your ass. He loves to grab your hips or your ass and your breasts.

He’s also a huge fan of missionary. Because he can’t see your pretty face, or look into your eyes from behind. Most days he wants intimacy and to show you how much he loves you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s a bit goofy, like talking in a comically exaggerated Boston accent when you told him you liked the sound of his voice and how his accent becomes more prominent when he is horny.

But most of the times, he’s in control. He has to maintain some composure so you wouldn’t question who’s really in charge or think that you could get away with anything. Because you know how to make him laugh, and if he let’s you do that he couldn’t keep a straight face while punishing you.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Chris has dark Brown pubic hair, like that of his beard and the hair on his head.

Does anyone remember that term ‘manscaping'? Where dudes trim their pubic hair to make their dicks look bigger. Chris definitely does that. Although he doesn’t need to because like if he got any bigger he might split you in two.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Doesn’t matter if you’re making love, or fucking hard it will always be intimate and loving with Chris in one way or another.

If you feel needy, and like you want him to show you how much he loves you, you just have to sit on his lap, bat your lashes at him, show him your puppy eyes, and hump his leg a little. He’d get the sign and take you to bed, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, drawing it out for the both of you, his fingers laced with yours, pinned above your head. He’d feast on your breasts and nipples the whole time just so you could feel his love and need for days.

If you’re feeling particularly frisky, or in a mood to piss him off just so he could be rough with you without you having to ask, you can just give him attitude or roll your eyes a lot. He’ll spank your ass raw, or edge you for hours, or make you climax till it literally hurts, depends on his mood really, to teach you some manners. But since you like the punishment you never learn.

Even while he’s got you over his knee, you not wearing anything but the diamond necklace he gave you, your cheeks wet from crying for the past fifteen minutes, your ass on fire but you still had to take more from him. He tsked, reprimanding you for ruining his expensive dress pants with your slick, playing with your intimate lips, he’d say while stroking your head, “It’s okay, baby, daddy still loves you. Even when you get on my nerves.”

Even while fucking you like he hated you, he made you felt loved and as if you were the most precious person in the world.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When you started dating, Chris would often masturbate to the thought of you. But when you started sleeping together he never felt the need to, and you asked him not to do it anymore because you didn’t want him wasting his cummies.

Which might’ve been a huge mistake in hindsight because you revealed a weakness of yours. Now when he REALLY wants to punish you, he’d just tie you up jerk off his cock right before your eyes, “See this, sweetheart? I could be fucking your sweet pussy right now, and making you feel good too, but you had go and be a bad girl.” He’d come all over your face or breasts, and would of course make you come too if he feels you’ve learned your lesson.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Chris has a huge daddy kink. He doesn’t just like the title, he likes everything that comes along with it.

He likes that he has to take care of you, in and outside if the bedroom, being a daddy is a 24/7 job, he has to be considerate to you and grateful for all the trust and love you give him.

He also really likes pinning you down. Whether it be during play wrestling or during sex, it makes him feel strong, and it drives you crazy, absolutely feral for him.

L=Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Yeah you’ve had your share of sneaking off to do it during events but his favorite place to do it would be in the privacy of his own home, preferably his bed so that your dog won’t walk in on you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

If you simply say, “Screw me.” That would probably be more than enough to turn him on and fulfil your request.

But what grinds his gears is seeing you in tight clothing, or the kind of clothes that would show off your assets. If you’re a good mom to dodger, if you show an interest in the things he likes or do anything that would make his heart flutter and make him fall more in love with you.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never have proper public sex because that would probably interfere with his public image and work. Other than that he’s pretty open to most things.

He also wouldn’t like to invite anyone else to your bedroom or to share you. It is a nice fantasy for him but way too risky.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes both giving and receiving equally. He likes having you on your back where he can see your face while he explores your intimate walls with his tongue, but he also likes to have you ride his face. You were apprehensive to at first, but with some convincing you agreed.

Sixtynine is another one of his favorites. He never actually had to ask for it. You were sitting on his face, holding onto his stomach and screaming when you felt your orgasm approaching, he pushed your head just a little, you got the hint, and started working on his cock, which was painfully hard.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

It would usually depend on what kinda day it is and how you’re both feeling. But most of the time he is usually slow but at the same time rough. Where his thrusts are drawn out but also impactful.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Chris loves quickies. Bending you over the kitchen counter, a quick session in the afternoon on the couch when things got a little too heated while cuddling, in his trailor while he’s on a break, in the shower where he can make you dirty before cleaning you up. You made it.

But he wouldn’t prefer them over proper sex ever. Usually he likes to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He’s game to experiment to a certain extent. Even if he’s skeptical about something he’d keep an open mind and give it a shot for you.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

He’s a fit and motivated man so he can last for a long time and go for many rounds. It’s more likely for you to be tired and tapped out than for him.

If it was a long day on set, and if he’s a little exhausted then he may not be able to go more than once. But will make up for it when he can.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You both own a variety of butt plugs and vibrators, silky ties, blindfolds, handcuffs that Chris likes to use on you. You even bought a ball gag asking him to put it on you, which was the only time you ever used it because Chris liked to hear your voice and for you to call him daddy or say his name. You couldn’t do it with your mouth full.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chris teases you a lot, but he would be a MASSIVE tease if he was a little more patient. He knows the effect he has on you. How you can’t take your eyes off him when he wears a t-shirt that’s a bit too tight and shows off his arms, how you can’t help but grab his butt sometimes and feel him up. When you bite your lip or look away when he catches you staring. If you get caught, be prepared because he will only do it more just to egg you on.

His touches a bit too light, he’d bring you to the edge and leave you just there. But fortunately it won’t last long because usually he’s the one who ends up getting riled up.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s loud alright. And he isn’t ashamed of it. He would never try to hide how good you make him feel, or miss an opportunity to call you a good girl and praise your gorgeous body. There will be lots of grunting and groaning and moaning and you revel in every second of it.

X = X-Ray (Let s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty big. Much bigger than average. He looked pretty average when he wasn’t hard, you let that fool you into thinking you could take him pretty easily, he wasn’t that much bigger than anyone else you’d had sex with right?

Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw him hard, his dick hard and thick and a blush pink, two thick running on the sides of it.

He assured you that he would make it fit and that you had nothing to be worried about.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s pretty high. Higher than most people at least. You call him your horndog, but like in a nice way, because he always wants it. Even if you spent an entire night screaming his name and being used and stretched in ways that made your pussy as well as your body sore, he would still ask for more the very next morning. He’d respect you if you say no and back off immediately but he’s up for it whenever you want.

ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he has things on his mind, and if you fall asleep sooner than usual then he’d be up a while. But most of the times he falls asleep quickly after.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans alphabet #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #steve rogers x reader #chris evans headcanons

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ecoamerica · 19 days

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th0tfairy · 3 years

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For @iamsorrypapi who wanted bkg breeding u while kirishima watches 😩 hope u enjoy!

maladjusted barbaric bakugou x you

breeding - impregnation - voyeurism

💥❤️💥

Attempting to domesticate Katsuki is a work in progress. You’re patient with him because you realize it takes a long time to unlearn what you’ve always known, but you can’t keep letting him embarrass you at the grocery store when he starts picking produce off the stands and just eating them in the middle of the store.

The concept of money still eludes him, and he can’t quite wrap his mind around table manners yet. Doing anything in public with Katsuki is an event in and of itself.

Not that he’s any better in the privacy of your own home. If anything, he’s a lot worse. He’s grabby and destructive and way way waaaaaay too loud.

It feels like your raising a child every time you ask him to use his inside voice. A towering, massive, muscular child. One that could hurt you with a hug.

His huge arms are wrapping around your waist again, pulling you closer to him. You’ve always been insecure about the cellulite on your ass and thighs but he’s always drooled at the sight.

“When are we starting our family?” He asks casually.

You sigh.

You’ve tried time and time again to explain to him that you’re unprepared to have a child. He of courses refuses to listen and insists that your instincts will kick in once you’re pregnant.

“What did we say about birth control?”

You’ve tried to teach him the importance of pulling out, but he doesn’t wanna hear it. He scoffs and says you’ll come around soon enough.

Well, it just figures you’d come around while he has one of his friends over. And not a friend he’d made in the city, a friend from back home, he claims.

The friend is kind and means well, but you can feel his eyes searing into your body as you try to cook a meal with the gutted boar he’d brought as a gift.

He helps you prepare the roast and you feel his rough fingers stumble every now and then, feeling your soft body up.

Katsuki’s just walking in with a bag of potatoes when he sees Kirishima’s hands under your apron. You drop the wooden spoon you’ve been stirring the soup with and gasp. You’ve seen him angry before, but all those times seem to pale in comparison now.

He throws the sack on the floor and crosses the kitchen in two large strides. Kirishima removes his hands from your body but the damage is done. Katsuki kicks him into a seat and hauls you closer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he seethes into your ear. You think you’re missing something. You didn’t do anything.

“Wha—?”

Katsuki grabs a handful of your ass, fingernail digging into your soft flesh and croons when you whine at the pain. “Don’t play dumb. Why were you letting someone else put their hands on you?”

You bite your lip to prevent yourself from crying out. You don’t remember letting either of them touch you.

“What about you, kirishima?” He snaps. “I bring you over to my new home and this is how you repay me? Running your hands all over the mother of my children?”

Kirishima sulks in his seat. “I didn’t realize she was pregnant.”

“I’m not,” you cry, trying to push yourself away. Katsuki shoves the cutting board out of the way so he can bend you over the counter.

“Yet.” He corrects and in one swift motion, you feel him pull your underwear down. You gasp onto the backsplash of your kitchen tile. “Katsuki—“

He crouches over to spread your legs. You feel his strong hands keeping your thighs separated while his teeth skirt along your cellulite. You yelp when Katsuki suddenly takes a bite from your ass cheek.

“How could you let another man touch this juicy ass?” He murmurs around your skin as he kisses the bite. “Thought it was for me.”

“It’s for me!” You remind him indignantly, like he isn’t parting your folds. “My body is for me. Not you.”

He sinks a long finger into your slit, effectively silencing you. “It’s for my children,”

You arch your back at the contact and clench around him. “So warm,” he mutters, sticking another inside.

You look over to see Kirishima watching you get fingered as Katsuki goes in knuckle deep and wiggles his digits around. You’ve seen his dick before, but having it pressed up against your ass like this feels different.

It doesn’t help that you haven’t let him have sex all week.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. You feel yourself get wetter until you’re dripping down your thighs. Katsuki rustles behind you.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells Kirishima, not even giving him the luxury of looking at you. He kicks his pants off and slicks himself up between your runny thighs.

You feel his strong fingers wrap around the rolls on your waist. He tickles in between the folds as his erection bumps up along your slit. The head is fat and swollen, you don’t think it’ll even fit.

With a slight groan, Katsuki pops the head between your trembling legs. You grasp onto anything on the counter to help yourself get a grip, but all you can hold onto is the handles on the cupboard while he pushes the rest of his fat dick in.

The stretch burns but you can’t do anything except arch your back further and keep yourself still for him. Katsuki moves one hand from your fleshy waist to your breast and squeezes.

“A cozy home for my children and two lovely breasts to feed them.” He says into your neck. “You really are so perfect”

Somehow you can feel the veins in his dick as he pumps himself in and out of your hot cunt. You look over to the side. Kirishima respectfully looks away but you can see him rut against the chair, his own dickprint apparent in his pants.

Katsuki sucks a kiss into your shoulder before biting you again. “So soft,”

You start mewling at his deep strokes. You feel your body rock with his, chub moving back and forth with his thrusts. He’s close, you can tell by the way he grips your elbows to drill into you.

“Pull out,” You murmur around your own arousal. You still have enough presence of mind to remember safe sex.

Katsuki chuckles into your ear before biting down hard on your lobe, punishing you for even suggesting such a thing.

“If you think I’m wasting a drop of my seed anywhere outside of your womb, you’ve lost your mind.”

He kneads the rolls of your soft tummy as he continues to give one, two, three hard strokes before pulling your hips back. Your ass cheeks hit his thighs with a loud smack and then all you can feel is intense heat shooting up your pussy.

There’s a beam of molten cum leaking inside your womb. You’re almost certain there’s a kid inside you after that.

You clench up at the warmth and cry out as you grind your clit on the drawer knob. You’re soaked down your legs with he pulls out.

Katsuki pulls both your clothes back on as he catches his breath.

“Get out of my house,” he tells Kirishima while you wobble out of his grip. You can barely stand up straight.

“And you,” he smacks your belly, “Go lie down until one of my children attaches.”

🧡🧡🧡

#bakugou x y/n #bnha imagines #bakugou x reader #bnha smut #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima smut headcannons #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you

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nctsworld · 3 years

Text

the yuletide boyfriend

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:

“WISHLIST: -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side, ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time.

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

2K notes · View notes

redhoodieone · 3 years

Text

His Girl

Plot: Dick Grayson has a type in women: athletic, feminine, and classy. However, the reader is completely different as she is plus-size, tomboyish, and spontaneous. But a conversation about Y/N between Dick and the batboys takes an unexpected turn one night.

Warnings: Language, Sensitive topics, and Fluff.

“What the hell’s up your ass?” Jason asks Dick, as he hands him a bottle of beer from the refrigerator in the Batcave. It was only until last week that Bruce gave in and allowed a refrigerator to be down there after the boys begged him for one.

As long as it was only for beverages, of course. Bruce had mentioned the boys have been eating too much junk food lately, but the boys knew deep down that his rule is simply for him, because of his age, and maybe for Y/N, too.

Y/N has only been with the Batfamily for a year since her family died at the hands of Two-Face. She had only started training with Bruce for two months now, and the two of them have been working out quite a bit.

Which makes sense of Bruce’s one rule for the refrigerator, though. But that hasn’t stopped Jason from sneaking in food anyways; mostly pizza and lunch meat and cheeses for sandwiches.

But now, Dick’s distant and silence is unbearable since the circus descent acrobat is usually excited and rambling about anything and everything.

“Uh, nothing! I mean...” Dick stutters. His behavior tonight was questionable to say the least. Usually, he would be on his game and even throw some wisecracks but he’s been awfully quiet, nervous even.

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say,” Jason scoffs.

Dick sits on top of the hood of the Batmobile while he peels the sticky label from the beer bottle. He notices Tim and Damian walking out from the showers and are already dressed in sweatpants and t-shirts. Bruce is seated at the Batcomputer, still in costume but minus the cowl. Jason sits at the small table and sips from his beer and snacks on a triple meat and cheese sandwich he must have made quickly.

And Alfred had long gone to bed after Bruce forced him to get some rest since they’ve returned home and are not dead.

Dick suddenly notices Y/N must still be in the showers, on the other side of the cave for privacy where the guys can’t bother the girls.

“Fine...I’ve been...having these thoughts and dreams about Y/N lately,” Dick confesses. He notices Jason staring at him with a confused expression.

“Yeah, and…?”

“Well…lately, I’ve been thinking about her as…more than a friend. I’ve been seeing her in a new light. And you know I’ve always thought she was cool, and funny, and incredibly smart,” Dick continues, with a small smile. “But…I’ve never been sexually attracted to women like her before.”

Jason purses his lips and appears to think it over. “So, I don’t see the problem.”

“I just told you I’ve never felt this way about Y/N or any woman like her before.”

“Because you’re shallow.”

“I’m not shallow,” Dick argues, suddenly feeling defensive at Jason’s attack. “I just…I’ve never seen heavy women as hot, you know?”

“You can try to justify all that, but the point is, you’re shallow.”

“Have you ever slept with a heavy girl before, Jason?!” Dick snaps.

Jason chuckles and grins. “Actually, I have.”

“Bullshit,” Dick scoffs.

“Yeah, I have Dickie-bird. It happened three years ago, when my Outlaws and I kicked Black Mask’s ass. We went to a bar to celebrate in downtown Gotham. Roy and Star left early to go fuck or something. I was left alone and I was about to call it a night until this smoking hot woman took a seat next to me. She had long dark hair, tan skin, and curves that made my mouth water and my cock hard enough to pound nails. She was gorgeous, but there were these assholes around her and were calling her fat and telling her to leave because no one here would take her home. And do you want to know what I did?” Jason asks.

“What?” Dick asks quietly.

“I took her home, after I broke all those guys’ jaws. She was fucking amazing, man. She had a magnificent ass that she actually allowed me to spank. Her curves were endless, and after I fucked her good three times, cuddling and falling asleep with her was probably the best part of the night. I’ve never felt so…comfortable and felt warm, because I actually felt someone beside me,” Jason admits.

Dick raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, I didn’t think something like that could happen to you, Jason. If anything, I thought you were shallow.”

“I used to be, until I realized I was judging others, when I was actually trying to have others not judge me. Alfred actually helped me with that. I don’t remember every word he said exactly but he said I wasn’t trying all the ice cream flavors out there. Like, I was always sticking to a certain flavor of ice cream, and I wasn’t trying other kinds, meaning I should be looking at all types of women. And after my one night stand with that magnificent woman’s ass, I realized bigger girls aren’t deal breakers; they’re just more to love,” Jason admits, and shrugs with a smug smile.

“That’s…I don’t even know what to say. But Y/N’s different. She’s someone we know and it makes it harder. And my problem isn’t that I’m shallow, it’s how I’m supposed to handle my feelings about her.”

“Yeah, you are, Dick. Y/N’s literally the best woman we’ve ever met. Hell, the best woman I’VE ever met. She’s fucking funny, she’s so caring and kind, she’s smarter than Timbo when it comes to common sense,” Jason lists off his reasons.

“That’s true! I’m not going to lie about that!” Tim interrupts from the distance.

“Y/N’s real, she doesn’t bullshit about anything like other girls. She’s honest, and that’s a rare thing to find nowadays. And fuck…she can really handle her alcohol, she can down shots of Fireball like it’s water,” Jason adds.

“You don’t think I know all that? Of course, I do! That’s why I’m having such a hard time dealing with my feelings for her. I’ve only ever been with tall, athletic women, who wear skirts and dresses, eats healthy, and are…well, feminine,” Dick confesses. A guilty expression shows on his face. “And Y/N’s not any of that. She’s really short, kinda chubby, and she’s more of a tomboy type, who’s loud and rambunctious, and eats like a man.”

Jason snorts. “And that’s a problem why? That’s why Y/N’s fucking awesome, man! I actually really like how she’s not afraid to be herself. She’s not fake. Do you know how long it took for her to be comfortable with all of us and be who she is rather than how she thought we expected from her? And I don’t know about you but I love how she eats, whenever we go out to restaurants, I actually like how I can eat the way I want and not feel like a fat ass because I know her and I both love what we love and fuck all who have a problem with that!”

Bruce turns around in his chair and gives both boys a warning look. Even Tim and Damian silently take a seat and watch closely.

“Fuck…Y/N is the perfect woman. She’ll always be in my eyes,” Jason admits, looking down at his beer longingly before taking a sip.

“If you feel so strongly about her then why haven’t you tried to go out with her or sleep with her?” Dick asks angrily.

Jason’s pause takes everyone by surprise. “Because she can do better than me.”

“You-you actually tried to get with her?” Dick stammers.

“Oh, yeah I definitely did. I think about a year ago. I had spent the summer with her here while everyone was busy with the whole Justice League and Superman bullshit,” Jason explains. “You were with the Titans with Tim and Damian. It was just me and her.”

“Alfred was there as well,” Bruce mumbles.

“Anyways, call it cheesy as hell like those romcoms, but we actually got really close. She’s a spitfire for sure, but she really knows how to get under your skin,” Jason chuckles.

Tim and Damian nod their heads in agreement with that.

“And I obviously made the whole situation uncomfortable as fuck because when I told her how I felt, she rejected me. She said we were too alike, we’d butt heads all the time. And after that, I never brought it up again.”

Jason’s confession gives Dick a sense of confidence.

“Look, if you want to ask her out and do all that then I support you. Just know if you fucking hurt her or do anything wrong, I’ll slit your throat even if you’re family,” Jason threatens seriously.

“I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up with her,” Dick says.

“Well, don’t bring up how her weight and appearance bothers you,” Jason says seriously.

“It doesn’t!”

“Okay. How did you ask Barbara, Star, Zatanna, and-”

“I get it, Jason. I’ll just talk to her and tell her I have strong feelings for her,” Dick interrupts him. “I’ll just tell her the truth.”

“You already did.”

That voice belonged to none other than Y/N. All the guys in the Batcave jerked their heads to the top of the stairs where Y/N stood and looked down with tears running down her cheeks. She was wearing her plaid pajama pants and a loose black t-shirt she stole from one of them a long time ago, she doesn’t exactly know who though.

Dick and Jason slowly stand up. Dick carefully walks over to the stairs while Jason cautiously follows.

“Y/N…” Dick whispers, already feeling guilty and nervous that she had probably heard everything. “Please listen to me…”

“WHY?! So, you can tell me you didn’t mean any of that, when you actually did. I thought you were different! I didn’t know you could judge someone like that! Especially someone like me!” Y/N yells. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend! Y/N, please give me a chance to explain! I really like you, and-and I was just trying to ask for help so I can talk to you!” Dick pleads.

“Don’t lie to me! You were only asking for help because you didn’t know how to deal with me being fat and manly! I’m sorry I’m not like Barbara and Star! I’m sorry I’m not beautiful and thin! I’m sorry I’m not perfect for you!” Y/N cries out and runs up the stairs.

“Y/N! Wait! Please!” Dick shouts for her. He chases after her.

By the time Dick reaches Y/N’s bedroom door, it’s locked. He can hear her crying, automatically feeling like shit for being the reason why she’s hurt.

“Y/N, please…” Dick tries again.

“Leave me alone, Dick!”

Dick swallows hard and forces himself to move away from her door. There was no use for him to stand there; he’d already broke her trust and possibly ruined their friendship. He might have even ruined his chances with her.

Jason approaches Dick. “Is she crying?” he asks.

“Yes,” Dick chokes out. He runs a hand through his dark hair. “Fuck, Jason…I don’t know what to do. She won’t even talk to me.”

“You should go, Dick. I think you’ve done enough.”

Dick was a little taken aback by Jason’s command. He pushes himself to walk away anyways.

“Bruce wants to talk to you. You should go find him before he finds you,” Jason adds.

Dick exhales heavily and leaves. Jason shakes his head in disappointment at him. He takes a deep breath and knocks on Y/N’s bedroom door.

“Doll, it’s Jay. Please let me in,” Jason says softly. “I just want to talk to you.”

He didn’t think she would open the door for him. He didn’t think she would want to talk to him even though he hadn’t pissed her off or upset her in any way. But Y/N unlocked her door and even opened it for him.

Jason was deeply heartbroken to see Y/N; her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were wet, and she had the devastating look on her beautiful face. He quickly walked into her room and shut the door, quickly locking it.

He had to be cautious though. He knew couldn’t say or do the things he wants to do with her right now. Instead, he slowly and carefully approaches her. She allows him to wrap his strong arms around her, bringing her closely to his body to hold and protect her from everyone and everything.

“Shh…it’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. I’m not going anywhere,” Jason whispers into her hair. He tries desperately to not inhale the addicting scent of her shampoo and lingering perfume so much. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Y/N lifts her face from Jason’s chest and gazes up at him. The sight of her glistening eyes makes him draw her closer to him.

“What did I do wrong, Jay? What did I do to deserve all that? Is everything about me really bad?” Y/N asks softly, on the verge of tears again.

“No. No, don’t say that. Don’t say any of that! Nothing is wrong with you. You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re perfect just the way you are,” Jason admits.

Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. It breaks Jason’s heart more when she tries to pull away from his embrace, but he refuses to let her go. His grip tightens and he holds her as if she’d disappear and leave him all alone.

“That’s not true, Jay,”

“It is true. Hell Y/N, you’re the most badass woman I’ve ever met. You don’t take shit from any of us. You’ve managed to stay here even after all the bullshit everyone has put you through,” he explains. He even chuckles at a memory. “You’ve even made Bruce cry, remember? Remember you called him out on his bullshit when he refused to train you? You’re almost a savage like Alfred, you even make Wonder Woman and Catwoman look like dollar tree prizes, and that’s no lie.”

Y/N looks down at her feet. Jason knows she still doesn’t believe him.

“You’re always perfect in my eyes, Y/N. There isn’t a goddamn thing I would change about you,”

“If I’m so perfect, then why does Dick think so low of me?” Y/N asks. She sniffles adorably and looks back up at him.

“Because he’s a fucking idiot who can’t see the best thing that’s in front of him,” Jason answers, and looks into Y/N’s eyes before he looks at her lips. “But his loss is my gain.”

#dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #dc comics jason todd #dc comics batman #dick grayson #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne

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i-cant-sing · 3 years

Text

Yandere Rei hurting reader Pt 3

I couldn't write anything for Valentines, but I hope you like this. Enjoy!

Pt 1 here.

Pt 2 here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Enji wasn’t surprised at your funeral.

He wasn't surprised when Rei had begged him to have you frozen, keep your body encased in a glass box at home.

He wasn't surprised when the kids held her, letting him make proper funeral arrangements.

He wasn't surprised when Rei had a breakdown, punching his chest and thrashing around in Shotou's and Dabi's arms.

Enji wasnt surprised when the divorce papers came. He knew the kids were making her do this, but he didn't care. He signed them without hesitation.

He wasn't surprised when he heard the kids had sent Rei to an asylum. She kept escaping the house to run to the graveyard; she wanted to dig your body up. He understood why the kids sent her back.

He wasn't surprised when he heard Rei had killed herself in that place, 6 months after you had died.

He wasn't surprised when his kids didn't inform him of her death or funeral. If he was being honest, he wasn't even sure if he would've gone to pay his respects.

Enji poured himself another glass of vodka, taking the bottle with him as he sat on his recliner, almost tripping on a few empty bottles.

He wasn't an alcoholic, he was just trying to numb his pain. Its the only thing that helps him fall asleep.

Enji pulled out a cigarette and pushed it between his lips. He snapped his fingers to light it, closing his eyes as he inhaled the carcinogen.

"Again, dad?"

Enji didn't have to open his eyes to know its you.

"You know these things are not good for you."

Enji smiled. You were always so caring.

"Ah, so you do smile? I didn't think you were capable of doing that."

Enji opened his eyes. You were standing in front of him, a grin on your face.

"I smiled a lot more when you were around." Enji said.

You chuckled. "Me too." You sat next to him, before putting your head in his lap. "But you weren't around often."

Enji felt tears prick his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

Enji woke up the next morning with a massive headache. He went to his kitchen to get himself some coffee. He checked the calendar as he sipped the hot drink.

Friday.

He finished his coffee quickly, before wearing a large coat. He grabbed his car keys and drove away from his house.

When he reached the graveyard, he made sure to wear his sunglasses and a baseball cap, before grabbing the bouquet of white lillies.

Your grave was a little away from the rest, he wanted you to have space, and his family to have privacy when they visited.

He stood in front of your grave. It was clean and the bed of grass of fresh as ever. He had paid the caretaker good money to regularly clean up your resting place.

Enji stared at your tombstone for some time.

Y/n Todoroki.

Heaven's brightest angel

A loving daughter

Now resting safe and at peace

Tears fell free from Enji's eyes at that. "Safe and at peace". Safe and at peace. Two things he failed to give you.

The image of your bloody face flashed in his mind for a moment. Blood coated your teeth and mouth, your gut was also bleeding heavily. Your face was contorted in pain, confusion and betra-

Enji needs to stop thinking.

He sat down beside your grave and pulled out the flask from his coat pocket. He knows he has to drive back. He knows he shouldn't drink, not in front of you at least, but he can't help it. "I'm sorry." Enji whispers before he started drinking. It didn't take long for him to finish the entire flask. It was getting dark and he knew he had to leave before the caretaker came.

Enji pressed a kiss to your tombstone before he turned on his heel to leave.

"Endeavour?"

Enji was stunned to hear his hero name; nobody had called him that in a long time. God, he wished it wasn't the paparazzi. They had no respect for anyone, not even for the grieving or the dead.

But he looked up to see an old face.

"Keigo?"

Hawks smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine. What are you doing here?"

He scratched the back of his head nervously. "I've been meaning to talk to you." Hawks sighed. "I tried contacting you several times but you're impossible to track."

Enji knew that. He disappeared from the public eye after your death. He left his agency to Hawks, and got himself a home hidden in the woods. People assumed that he was just distraught over his wife's death or something. They didn't know about you. Nobody did. He paid off the hospital staff to keep their mouth shut because he didn't want his kids to suffer anymore because of his mistakes.

"What do you want?" Enji asked, gruffly.

"I just wanted to talk to you. Check up on you, y'know?"

"I'm doing great." Enji replied, stepping around him, about to walk away, but Hawks put a hand on his shoulder.

"Enji, its not your fault-"

"Shut up." Enji walked past him and made his way towards his car.

"Enji, listen to me-"

"I said. Shut. Up." He growled out. He didn't need anyone's pity. He reached his car with Hawks running up to him.

Enji tried to open his door but he suddenly felt lightheaded as he fell down.

"Enji! Are you okay?" Hawks kneeled beside him.

"I'm f-fine. Leave me alone." Enji was slurring.

Hawks grimaced when he smelled his breath. "God, you reek of alcohol. You weren't planning on driving in this state?"

Enji pushed him away. "I said I'm fine." Enji stood up before stumbling towards his car again, fumbling with the keys, his vision blurring the more he strained himself.

"Let me take you home, Enji." Enji felt his hands on his shoulder, but just as he tried to tell Hawks to fuck off, his vision faded to black.

Enji opens his eyes and finds himself in his house again. His old house. He's laying in bed when he hears laughter from outside. He gets out of bed and walks towards the source.

The kitchen.

He walks in and sees his family, the sun rays flooding the room, and the golden orange hues illuminating their faces. Rei is mixing something in a large bowl, Fuyumi is greasing up some pans. Natsuo and Touya are eating the chocolate chips from the bag, and Shotou is telling them to save some for the cake. And you. You're there too. Sitting beside Shotou, laughing as Touya sneakily gives you some chocolate chips too. Suddenly, they all turn towards him. Rei motions for him to come in. "Enji! Come in. We're making a cake!" Enji walks towards her, wrapping his arms around her. Rei kisses him, making his kids cringe and tell them to stop. They all laugh. Rei pours the batter into the pans, before raising the spoon. "Okay, who wants to lick the spoon?" And suddenly Touya, Natsuo and you yell "me!" before trying to reach for the spoon. Shotou freezes Natsuo's foot to the floor, while Enji pulls Touya back. Fuyumi grabs the spoon from her mom, and gives it to you, making you smile as you eagerly lick the spatula clean, while Touya and Natsuo whine how its not fair. Everyone laughs as Rei cleans up the batter smeared on your nose with a tissue. Its a heart warming scene. Its all he ever wanted.

But its not the reality he was given now, was it?

As Enji closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of his family, he suddenly hears someone crying. He snaps his eyes open, but the kitchen is empty and dark. He hears the crying again. He gets out of the kitchen quickly, trying to find the source. Its coming from Fuyumi's room. He bursts through the door, looking for Fuyumi, but finds you there instead. You're on the floor whimpering as you're trying to rub your arm with a towel. He kneels next to you. "What's wrong?" You cry when you remove the towel to reveal the huge ice burn on your arm. There were ice crystals littering all over the skin. Enji begins to heat up his palms as he melts the ice downs, slowly allowing the sensation in your arm to return. "What happened?" You sniffled. "F-fuyumi came to my room and said that she wants to go shopping with me, I told her I had to study for my test." You hiccuped. "She didn't like that, she- she said I'm ignoring her, blowing her off- I'm not!" You cried. Enji focused on your arm, heating it up slowly. "I know, you didn't do it on purpose. But maybe you could take some time off school? Think of it as a little break. You could spend more time with Fuyumi, with us." You looked at him in confusion. "B-but she hurt me-" "no, she was just a bit frustrated. You know she didn't mean it, right? She's your big sister, she loves you." You hesitantly nodded. "If you say so..." Enji smiled. "See, its all better now. Let me heat up the towel and wrap it around your arm." He turned to get the towel, but when he turned back, the room was empty.

He heard quiet sobs coming from your room. He made his way to your room and opened door and found you lying on the bed. "What happened?" He asked, taking a seat on your bed. "I saw him, I saw Natsuo put crushed pills- sleeping pills in my food! That's why I've been feeling so sleepy lately. When I confronted him, he told me its for my own good. B-but I know its because he doesn't want me to go out with my friends! He forcefully fed me the food, and then he took my phone away too! He said its because its not good to sleep with your phone but I know he took it because he wants to go through my stuff!" Enji hushed you. "Can you talk to him? Tell him to stop or something." Enji raised an eyebrow. "Natsuo is your big brother. He's just looking out for you. And he's not wrong about going through your phone either. Do you have something to hide?" You shook your head no. "But-!" "Natsuo wouldn't do anything to cause you pain, okay?" You closed your eyes. "Okay." You whispered. Enji closed the door as he left your room. But as soon as he did, he heard banging coming from the basement. He rushed down the stairs and found the door locked. Bursting through the door, he was suddenly engulfed by a small body. It was you again. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, help me!" Enji pulled you away from him. "Hey, shh. Its okay. I'm here. What happened?" You sobbed into his chest. "I just went to the grocery store- just for 20 minutes!" Enji already knew what went wrong. "You didn't go with Shotou, did you? You didn't even inform him, right?" You shook your head no. "It slipped my mind. I promise I wasn't running away!" Enji sighed, petting your hair. "How long have you been down here?" You sniffled. "I dont know. It was Wednesday when Shotou pushed me in here." Three days. "Its okay. You've learnt your lesson, right?" You nodded. "Please, I don't want to be down here anymore." Enji led you out of the basement. "Just don't forget to tell Shotou next time, or tell us what you need. We'll bring whatever you want." Enji closed the basement door, but suddenly someone whimpered from inside. He opened the door again, but he found himself in the main bathroom. You were standing in front of the sink, putting some ointment on your shoulder. Enji looked closer and found burn marks on your skin. "Did Touya-" You turned around towards him. "Yes." Enji couldn't take his eyes off the red, burnt skin. "Why?" You shrugged your shoulders. "Does it matter?" You slammed the door shut in his face.

Enji didn't even realise he had begun walking away from the door and towards another one. He instinctively opened the door and found Rei and you. Rei had her arms raised, a sharp knife in her hand. "Rei- what are you doing? Put the knife down!" Suddenly, the rest of his kids appeared in the room. They stood between Rei and him, like a barrier. "Honey, its okay! We know whats best for her!" Rei spoke. Shotou nodded. "Yes. You said so yourself." Fuyumi spoke this time. "We're her family! We wouldn't hurt her!" Touya walked towards Enji. "Besides, if something happens, you promised you would save her, won't you?" Enji nodded. "Of course." "Then trust us. Like you always have." Natsuo said. Enji's eyes moved towards you. You opened your mouth to say something but all of a sudden, Enji was pushed out of the room and the door slammed closed. Enji jumped to the door when he heard your painful, gut wrenching screams. "DAD! STOP THEM! HELP ME! DAD!" Enji kept on banging his fists on the door but the door wouldn't budge.

Then it was silent. All too quiet. The door creaked open a bit. Enji didn't know if he wanted to see whats behind there anymore, but he still pushed the door open. How he wish he hadn't.

Lying on the floor, blood spilled from your mouth and your gut. Your body bore burns and scorch marks, the smell of burnt flesh wafting through the air. Enji fell to his knees. Its too late. "D-daddy? It- hurts."your voice was so quiet, so soft, he almost didn't hear you. "Save me?"you coughed out more blood, with each word. Enji started crying. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-I can't." Your eyes dimmed when he said that, your chest finally stopped moving.

Enji finally woke up from his recurrent nightmare. He had been haunted by them ever since your death. Sad thing is, they didn't stray that far from reality. You had come to him many times, begging for help, but he turned you away, assuring you that they're just messing around, that it was an accident, or it was just a one time thing.

It wasn't.

Enji couldn't count how many times you had told him how his family had been hurting you, before you stopped asking all together when you realised he would always take their side.

It took a few minutes for Enji to register that he wasn't lying in his bed, or was in his home for that matter.

Enji groans as he sits up, rubbing his head. He remembers he was at the graveyard and then Hawks was there too. Hawks must've brought him to his home.

Stupid bird. He should just mind his own business.

Enji got up and left the room, leaning against the wall for support as he made his way around the house. Where was Keigo anyways?

He was passing by a garden when he saw someone move there. Enji focused his eyes and saw...you. He sighed. Enji sat down on the porch that opened into the garden. He realised he must've had drank a lot yesterday. Clearly, the effects of intoxication were still there.

You were sitting next to some bushes, trimming up their rough edges, your face turned away from him. You were humming to yourself as you worked.

You always did like plants, flowers especially. That's why he made sure you were buried where there was enough space for some flowers and grass to grow.

"I see you've found her." Hawks handed Enji a cup of coffee. He didn't even realise when he had walked-

Wait.

"You can see her?" Enji asked. Was he still dreaming?

Hawks chuckled. "Of course. She's right there- Enji, did you drink again?"

Enji looked at you, then at Hawks, then back to you. "What?" There's no way. There's no way. Hawks looked at Enji weirdly before he called for you.

"Y/n! Sweetie, come here!" You whipped your head around at Hawks voice.

And Enji sees you.

He wasn't hallucinating. You're real.

You skipped towards them, smiling. And Enji didn't even realise it until you were right in front of them. You had eyes. They were different than your real ones. These new ones, they were the same colour as his. Sharp, turquoise blue.

Were you a doppelganger? Is this some kind of sick joke? He couldn't help but wonder, but some part of him knew that wasn't the case.

Enji stood up when you reached them, the cup falling from his hand.

"Hey, dad."

In a second, Enji had his arms wrapped around you. You're really there. You weren't dead. You're still alive. "Y/n? Is it really you?" Enji asked, tears falling from his eyes as he held you tighter, still in disbelief.

You hugged him back. "Yes. Who else would it be?" You chuckled.

He pulled you away from him, his eyes scanned your face. There was still some charring and faded scars around your eyes, but they were mostly healed. It really is you.

"B-but how?"

You smiled. "Hawks-"

It was like something snapped in him at the hero's name.

Enji suddenly pushed you behind him, taking a protective stance. "What the fuck did you do?!" He growled at Keigo.

Hawks held his arms up in surrender, trying to pacify the man in front of him. "Nothing. I just helped her." Enji pounced at Hawks, pushing him to the ground. He was going to murder Hawks if he even looked at you the wrong way. "Oh yeah? And what the fuck did you want in return, you sick bastard?!" Enji raised his hand to punch him, but he stopped when he felt your tiny hands pull on his arm. "Dad! Please, stop! He saved me! Please!" He could hear the fear in your voice. He got off Hawks and yanked you back to him. "Tell me. Did he threaten you? Harm you? Touch you?" Although Enji's eyes held concern for you, he was scaring you with his grip on your wrist turning painfully tight. "No! Please, stop." You replied, struggling as you tried to free your wrist.

"Enji, calm the fuck down! You're hurting her!" Hawks finally managed to pull his hand off of your wrist. As soon as he did, Enji saw his handprint around your wrist.

Fuck.

You moved behind Hawks, peeking at Enji from between his wings, your eyes pooling with unshed tears. Enji's heart sank.

Looking at your scared form, Enji couldn't help but recall how different it used to be before. How you used to run to him for help, seek his protection.

And now, you need to be saved from him.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Y/n. I didn't mean to." He reached his hand out for yours. When you moved further behind Hawks, his heart broke. You were scared of him. Your eyes holding the same fear as they once held for the rest of his family.

"Y/n, darling, why don't you go tend to the bushes. I need to talk to your father." You scurried away as soon as Hawks said that.

"She's scared of me." Enji's voice held guilt.

Hawks patted his back. "Don't worry. She'll come around soon."

Hawks sat on the porch step, motioning Enji to sit beside him as well. He sat but kept his eyes towards your form. "What happened, Keigo?"

"Well, when you had called me, informing me how Rei had stabbed Y/n, I came as quickly as possible. I remember you were holding Rei back, stopping her from entering the hospital room. Once your kids had arrived and taken their mother away, you told me to keep guard while you sorted out some hospital forms." Hawks took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Y/n had woken up a few minutes after you had left. And she started crying as soon as she was conscious. I tried calming her down, but she was- hysterical. She kept on saying how they were going to torture her again. I told her that Enji would make sure they wouldn't. She kept on insisting that you were going to take Rei's side." Hawks looked at Enji. "And you and I both know know, you would've." Enji held his head shamefully, because he was right. He would've taken his family's side yet again.

"She asked me to kill her, Enji."

Enji's eyes widened at that, turning his head to Hawks. "What?" Hawks nodded, his eyes stone cold. "She said she'd rather be dead than return to your house." Enji felt like someone had drove a spear through his chest. Oh god, how long had you been feeling like that? "Thats when I decided to take her."

"But how? We buried her." Hawks rolled his eyes.

"It isn't hard to find a body. You know that."

Enji nodded. Right. "And her eyes?"

"Got a quirk doctor to replace them."

Enji's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But Natsuo said that they were irreplaceable-"

"Natsuo lied, Enji. All of your kids did. They were going to side with their mother, no matter what. And Rei wanted her to remain blind, so everyone made sure she did." He took another sip of his coffee. "You have a fucked up family."

Enji clenched his jaw at that, but it was the truth. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Hawks raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You're hard to track. You went into hiding and I had to run your agency, clean up your mess so that the public doesn't find out and I had a daughter at home to look after too. I guess you could say, I was a bit occupied."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Enji looked towards where you were, happily tending to your garden, completely oblivious to your surroundings. You looked so lively, so content. "Is...is she happy?" Hawks smiled at that. He still adores you. "Yes. She stays at home mostly, tending to the garden, but she occasionally goes out as well."

Enji looked at Hawks. "Alone? What if she runs away? What if something happens to her?"

Hawks shook his head. "She won't. Where's she going to go? She knows that your kids are still out there, and if they ever saw her, God knows what they'll do to her." Hawks crossed his arms against his chest. "Besides, I gave her a special bracelet. It has a tracking device in it and if she ever runs into trouble, all she needs to do is tap it and I'll be there!"

Hawks really had it all figured it out. Everything was under control, so why was he there? "Why did you bring me?"

"To save you." Enji stared at him in confusion. "You can't live without her, Enji. The past few months are evidence that you can't. You almost drank yourself to death." Hawks ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Look at yourself. Your eyes are bloodshot, you drink, you smoke, you're depressed as fuck. Is this the kind of hero you imagined yourself becoming? Is this the kind of father you want to be?"

"Keigo I-"

"You know, she never spoke ill of you once. Never. If anything, she told me that her good memories with your family, were mostly with you. Almost like she misses you."

"What do you want me to do, Keigo?" He asked helplessly, because Enji truly didn't know.

"I want you to stay here." He began. "Be the hero she needs; the father she needs."

"Keep your promise to her." Hawks eyes were full with fierce emotion as he reminded Enji of his promise.

I'll keep you safe. I promise.

Those word had been echoing in his mind forever, always accompanied by gore filled images of you.

"Raise the family you always dreamt of."

As if something had finally clicked, Enji nodded before he slowly made his way towards you. Hawks watched as Enji sat down beside you and talked to you. You smiled slowly before handing him a pair of gardening gloves as you taught him how to plant some flowers.

It was a good thing that Hawks cared about both of you deeply.

He was happy he was going to save his hero, Endeavour.

He was happy that he was going to start anew with you guys.

He was happy as he saw the love of his life and his goddaughter, now daughter, playing in the mud.

He was beyond ecstatic when he had slit Rei's throat in the asylum.

"What?" Hawks asks you, the person reading this story. He leans towards you, face mere inches away from yours, and smirks.

"That bitch had it coming."

So...

How was it?

Oh and yes, I will be taking asks for this (and answering some previous ones as well)

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