#in case you want to know whats on the jacket bc its so small | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedroshotwifey · 5 months

Text

Christmas Countdown Day 17 - Mulled Wine

Treat

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k (on the dot)

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, smut, fluff, daddy kink, piv sex, DIRTY dirty talk, soft dom joel, but also degrading nicknames (in a loving way), idk y'all its 2:00 am rn, frottage, stuff i'm forgetting

Summary: Joel thanks you for your consideration

A/N: I'm so tired, but I think this turned out pretty good. Lots of dirty talk. Idk. I'm putting this in my queue and passing tf out. Idk what happened bc this was supposed to be sweet and then it turned so dirty.

****

You watch Joel from the window as you finish stirring your ingredients one final time. It had been a bit of a struggle to get everything you needed to create a mulled wine, but you had done it.

Joel had mentioned to you in passing how he used to drink it around Christmas time before the outbreak. He’d invite Tommy over and the brothers would sit at the kitchen table with Sarah.

Joel would sip on his wine while Tommy indulged on his usual beer, absolutely refusing to touch Joel’s “sissy drink”. Sarah had asked once if she could have a mug of it, and so she ended up with a warm apple cider.

The story had made you laugh, you could almost see Tommy teasing Joel while Sarah whined for her own “sissy drink”.

They would sit around with their respective drinks after decorating the tree and recall fond memories. It was one of Joel’s favorite traditions back then, and you could tell he had a hard time opening up about it.

He’s been doing so much better with it lately–opening up to you. He used to not let a thing slip, but since you’ve settled in Jackson with Ellie, he’s been able to relax a bit. You don’t try to rush it, but you’re happy that he’s finally able to do so.

You sigh contentedly as you divide the wine into two steaming mugs. Looking back out the window, you can see Joel coming back up from the shed where Ellie had insisted on living. He’s halfway back to the main house now.

You think it’s cute, but also good for her, that she wanted to be independent. Though you would hate to be any farther from her. You know Joel feels the same way with how much he talks about it and goes over there to fix small things for her.

Just now, he had been over there re-caulking the window frames. He’s been worried about how cold it might be getting in there lately with all the snow outside.

Just then, Joel opens the door, a blast of frosty air blowing in with him and making you shiver. He notices you immediately, a smile adorning his rosy features.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to pull his gloves off. “What’re you doin?”

You step to him, starting to help him with his thick leather jacket. He sets his gloves down on the kitchen counter and allows you to pry the coat off.

“Just making a treat,” you say, trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“Oh?” Joel questions with a slight chuckle at your vague answer. “What kinda treat?”

You bite your lip to suppress your smile as you hang his coat up on the rack by the door before backtracking to the stove. You pick up the two steaming mugs of wine and walk back to him.

Joel knows what it is as soon as you pass him his mug. He looks down at it, then at you with nothing but love and gratitude. Not only had you remembered him talking about how much he enjoyed it, but you had gone out of your way to do something nice for him.

You watch him, trying to gauge his reaction. It did cross your mind once or twice while making it that he might not appreciate it because of the memories. That it might bring back things he didn’t want to think about. It didn’t seem likely–maybe a few months ago it would have–but not now. It had still been nagging you nonetheless.

It definitely doesn’t look like that’s the case, though, with the way Joel takes both of the mugs and sets them down to engulf you in a hug. He holds you close to him and whispers a small “thank you, baby” into your hair.

You smile into his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around him.

“You’re welcome, Joel,” you say, pulling your head back. He dips down to kiss you slowly, and you bring one of your hands up to thread into his fluffy graying hair. Joel groans into your lips and keeps ahold of you as he leads you backwards into the living room, your lips staying together as much as possible.

Once he reaches the couch, he sits down, pulling you on top of him. You shift to get situated in his lap, the two of you separating to catch your breath. Keeping eye contact, you grind down on him, making him groan as you pass over his bulge.

“Careful, darlin’,” Joel warns. “Keep that up and I ain’t gonna go easy on you.”

You smile mischievously at him as you do it again, and this time as he groans, he puts his hands over your hips and helps you do it. You allow him to drag you across him, his dick hardening with each pass.

Your clit catches on the fabric of his jeans, making you moan sweetly as you place your forehead on his shoulder.

“Feels good,” you whine as the pressure increases.

“Bet it does,” Joel teases. “My whore’s so starved she can get her little pussy off rubbin’ on my fuckin’ jeans.”

You moan louder at his words as you gyrate your hips, feeling a warmth starting to take over in your belly.

“Yeah, you gonna come like this?” Joel asks.

You just nod, letting him feel your agreement. You’re so close, just a couple more seconds.

“Alright then, go ahead, baby. Come on daddy’s lap with that slutty little cunt.”

And you do. You moan loudly as your movements grow more frantic, your cum seeping out and slicking up your clit to make the glide more pleasurable. The feeling of your pussy throbbing around nothing is almost a tease when you have Joel’s cock within reach.

He seems to know what you’re thinking, because as soon as you stop moving, he reaches for your pants. He unzips them and pats your thigh to make you get up before pulling them and your ruined panties down your thighs and having your step out of them.

You quickly get back onto his lap, covering his lips with yours in a sloppy kiss as he begins to work at his own pants. You can feel the moment he pulls his cock out, and you look down to admire it. You’ve always thought he has such a beautiful cock. Seems fitting for him.

His tip is already an angry red, leaking pre-cum which lubricates his thick shaft as he pumps himself a couple times.

“C’mon, baby, get up here on daddy’s cock. Don’t make me wait.”

You quickly obey, sitting up on your knees to notch him at your entrance. You sink down on him, moaning as he grunts. Your hands fly to his shoulders as he bottoms out, allowing you to adjust for a second.

It is only a second though, before he starts to thrust up into you. You moan at the first punch of his cock against your cervix. He places his hands back on your hips and assists you on bouncing on him.

“Tha’s it, baby,” Joel praises. “Never get tired of this messy fucking pussy. She’s always so hungry for me.”

You whine in agreement as you lift yourself up and down, a wet squelch coming from between your legs each time you fill yourself. Joel gazes into your eyes as you struggle to keep yours open. His teeth grit each time he hits a spot that makes you squeeze around him.

“Feel so good, daddy,” you tell him as you admire the thin sheen of sweat beginning to cover his golden skin. “I-you-I–”

“I know, honey,” Joel cuts you off. “Cockdrunk already.”

His condescending tone never fails to get you going. You fucking love it when he treats you like this, because you know that it’s not real. Just for now, you get to be his slut, his little fuck toy. Joel would never dream of speaking to you like this any other way.

You just nod at him, feeling your second orgasm approach. Joel begins to thrust quicker into you, making you whine with each punch.

“Yeah, I can feel it, baby. Let go for me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re coming around him, flooding his cock with your cum. The extra lubrication makes it even easier for him to slide in and out of you, and he takes full advantage of that, fucking your thorugh your orgasm at full speed.

“So damn tight n wet,” Joel grits out. “Poor pussy just can’t control ‘erself.”

“Mnm, she needs you, daddy,” you confirm, your eyes closed now as you rest on his shoulder again. Your legs are starting to ache, but you continue your movements as much as you can so Joel isn’t doing all the work, though you’re sure he wouldn’t mind too much.

His pace begins to falter and get more frantic as he gets closer to his own end.

“G-Gonna come on this little cunt,” he tells you through tight teeth. “Mark you all up n watch it drip off’a you.”

“Please, Joel, want your cum so bad.”

You can feel the way he pulses as he gets closer, watch the way he bites his plush bottom lip to contain himself.

He suddenly pulls you up hard, his cock falling out of you just in time to coat your pussy lips with his warm cum. He groans as he runs his tip just barely onto you, letting the sligh friction lengthen his high.

When he comes down, he places you gently back on his lap, his spent cock nestled between the two of you. You both breath heavily in a comfortable silence, and you almost fall asleep until you remember the wine.

“Wait, Joel–”

“It’s good room-temp too,” he says, his eyes cracked open just slightly. You scowl playfully at him, slapping his chest lightly.

“Or we could warm it back up. Jus’ sit here a minute, darlin. I’m too damn old for this shit.”

You giggle at him but comply, resting your head back on his chest. The wine will just have to wait.

****

Thank you for reading! lemme know If you wanna join the countdown taglist :)

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian @yorksgirl

Link to prompt list

#friends of the juice collective #pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #fluff #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction

135 notes · View notes

bigmack2go · 1 month

Text

I got live‘sies so its time to appreciate‘sies some brackrond‘sies detailies

Not rly bc but i live how it looks like were zooming up, and then back down the lodge before and after santafee prologue

Why tf is crutchie su confused when he wakes up

Jack proceeds to sleep with one of just drawings wtf

He waves his hand infront of crutchie like „ur eyes closed yet??“

Al playing and leaning on the rail ahhhh ahshwksmdnxlxl (in case u didnt know: i love albert)

Race laughing and slapping specs

Everyone just deads in their tracks and teams up when Albert gives his coment that went to far

Finch scratching his head is so real

DID BIRD FLY TWEETY BOY JUST LEAN IN FOR A GOODMORNING KISS

AND DID GINGER MF JUST REFUSE BIRD FLY TWEETY BOY HIS KISS??

The slap on his chest like „not now honey“ 😭swejfcizp

Ike and mike arent in the same thibgy thing. For fucks sake thank god cuz its been bothering me for a while how they only get mentioned in the same context. I hate it when they do that. Wait nvm that looked like mush but it actually was mike.

Naw sniper can be so adorable

Did i mention i fucking love jojo

Smalls snd finch sharing a room ™️

Crutchie is so done w jacks bullshit

LMAO BUTTONS COMBING HIS HAIR

Albert posing infront of the „mirror“ is so me tbh

Ive mever seen anyone struggle this mutch to out on a hat as blink. All those tbh thats smt that could be me prolly

Specs babe what r u doing on the floor

Race shaking his jaket is so overdramatic and its perfect

Mush and henry are a duo I didn’t know I needed.

Why is mush acting like hes in a circus lmfao

Tommy struggling with the pants is everything

Elmer just took his cap off, put it in his pocket, and the magicaly made it apear in his other hand???

Who is tommy saluting at

Naw specs is like a big brother to livesies blink and it breaks my heart in the best way possible

Albert jumps in the middle like when i slide through the kitchen on my socks lmfao

Tbh sniper just wanted to move too

Sky. What was your thought process when you looked at darcy‘s ass instead of Katherine‘s even tho you knew this was gonna be in the proshot?

BUTTONS WTF??

Finch is such a mood istg

Snipe honey ily but you are being a little creepy

HENRY YOU JUST PUT ON THE JACKET HOW DID IT GO OFF U AGAIN?

I demant to know what jojo is doing

Ok smalls just sitting there dangling their feet is everything

BUTTONS ALSO LOOKED AT DARCY INSTEAD OF KATH WTH ?? HER ASS CABT BE THAT BAD /j

Kath awkward queen

Darcy going „alright“ like „okay thats enough, im done— your dONE“

HES SO PROUD 🥹

Specs. Going down backwards are leathers. This are stairs. Please watch where you’re goibg

RACE TOO IS EYEING DARCY INSTEAD OF KATHERINE

Istg romeo and jack r the only ones eyeing kathering wtf is thos?

RACE LOOKS AT CRUTCHES SO KNOWINGLY LIKE AN INSIDE JOKES UNDER BROTHERS LMFAO I LOVE THAT. THEYRE MAKING FUN OF JACK TOGETHER AHSHWKENFN

Ok so elmer actually looked at kath but he honestly just looks angry

Tommy boy save me, youre the only normal person here!

Nvm

Race wtf is your deal??

OKAY SOMEONE HELP ELMER I THINK HES HAVING A SEIZURE

How is blink STILL bot done?!

Jacks just talking to the air

Every single one of finches facial expressions. Like i can’t even count them all.

Hes so done lmfao

Mush? Wtf? Stop? Please?

You wanna share with the class tommy? We wanna laugh too

Buttons just watches like he just gave up like,,, ah whatever you do you

Mush is becoming a poledancer??

WJEN DID SPECS GO BACK UP THERE WTF

Race slapping buttons on the cheek like a grandma💀💀💀

We all agree that albert is that one friend where the whole friendgroup thinks he’s the token straight friends but hes everything but that, its just that he doesn’t talk about it a lot. And there’s that one friend (i wonder who/j) that knows fron experienced how thats just so fucking wrong

Elmer is like „😒😒😒—oh shit thats my cue- IM HAPPY“

So i got aprox two seconds into it and now in tired so see u lmfao

#newsies #edit later tag

9 notes · View notes

anystalker707 · 2 years

Text

Rings

Pairing: Mikey x Reader Word count: ~ 1 500 Genre: Fluff / Comfort Summary: Mikey is insecure about wearing rings, but (y/n) will make sure it happens.

Requested by Duchess <3 [(...) Mikey wants to wear a shit ton of rings but’s scared of what other people might say (...)]

A/N: Current Mikey bc we deserve it

The ring shines through the shop window’s glass, details glinting under the light and contrasting perfectly with the deep red velvet upholstery of the small case it’s placed in, still showing all of its glory even if just a couple of people stop to appreciate it at the moment. It’s not one of the busy hours, though, it seems, given how not nearly as many people walk down the streets as the stores are able to handle. A paper next to the ring displays the price, and it takes me a moment to convert the pounds to dollars, but I soon realize it isn’t even that bad, considering the ones in simpler designs that are sold for higher prices.

“Mikey, why don’t you get it, hm?” I nod to the ring, though his focus is also already on it. Mikey’s reflection nods a little. “Would suit you and also match the others.”

Mikey continues gazing at the ring, then sighs, leaning back a little. “Ah, no, you know what I think about it already.”

“Just considering what other people will think isn’t a good reason, you’re aware of that,” I breathe. It’s a fucking shame he won’t use the rings since they suit him so fucking well, not to mention how they make him look even more powerful. He got a lot of them, and I don’t know what for, if he’s not going to use them. And for such a stupid reason.

“You don’t see the point.” Mikey shifts a little, taking a closer look at the ring again, for a short moment. “I’m not up to answering all of the ‘oh, are you sure you should be wearing something so expensive?’ or ‘are these even real?’ every time people look at them. Not to mention how they’ll say I’m trying to copy Frank or something. It’ll suck.”

For a moment, I do cogitate discussing again, telling him things aren’t like that, but I decide to save time instead; I shrug lightly, about to point at the earrings by the other side of the window when I see Gerard approaching. He places his hand on Mikey’s shoulder, following his gaze to the jewelry for a moment before cleaning his throat. “Uh, I’m grabbing some coffee, do you want to come along?” He looks between Mikey and I.

Mikey hums with a brief motion to adjust his shades—why does he have them in such cloudy weather? I’d call it a habit—and nods. “(Y/n)?”

“No, I’m still walking around for a bit.” I glance around; I can still go check the jacket I saw across the street and see the bookstore people are always recommending me, later. “You know what I like, I’ll get it with you when I see you later. Well, I mean, not if it’ll bother you, then I’ll just—”

“It’s fine,” Mikey chuckles and places a hand on my hip as he leans in to give me a quick kiss. “Take care, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. Same to you, by the way.” I smile, patting his chest lightly as he pulls away, nodding in response, and wave lightly at the two once they start to walk away, but they’re quickly immersed in their talk. Nice. It doesn’t take too long until they’re turning around a corner, so I step into the store, welcomed by the smell of cleaning supplies and alcohol before an employee approaches me.

“Hello! How may I help you?” They ask in a thick British accent, hands folded in front of them.

“Hi!” I smile back, and glance behind me. “Y’know, can I take a look at the silver ring from the window?”

In total, there are seven rings—three were with me, one of them was bought, while the other three were dispersed around Mikey’s things. Why does he bring them along if he doesn’t want to wear them, hm? Hell, that insecure ass of his. He won’t be able to escape it today, and I’m the one who’ll make sure it happens.

All of the rings are secured in my bag when we head to the venue after all the shopping and exploring, which also thankfully earned me one of the books I had been looking for. The guys are in soundcheck while I sit backstage in one of the dressing rooms, just messing with my phone or things around while I have what Mikey had left for me, consisting of a cup of my favorite coffee and a snack. Both are already over when Mikey is coming into the dressing room again, this time not to leave his things here but to get ready for the oncoming concert, smiling as he approaches and presses a kiss to my cheek.

“I have something for you.” I stand up from the chair, rummaging through my bag a little until I finally bring it up. “Here.”

Mikey furrows his eyebrows, but does take the little fabric bag in hand carefully, undoing the ribbon and then dropping the ring on his palm. It’s possible to see the exact moment he recognizes it, eyes widening, and he gasps. “(Y/n)! You shouldn’t! You know what—”

“No, no excuses!” I shake my head, taking the ring to slip it on one of his fingers. So pretty. I trace the ring’s details with the tip of my fingers, still holding Mikey’s hand. “I’m so tired of you just spilling excuses and stuff while you actually look so fucking hot with these on! C’mon, I even brought you all of your seven rings, and I want you to put all of them on at least to take the pictures before the concert! Fuck what people say, what matters is that you want to wear them and that you look so damn fine with them!” He has that face on when I look at him, and I don’t know whether I should feel mad or melt. “I’ll accept no arguing!” I peck his lips. “You’re better than that, and you know it! Go for it! Keep a few of the rings on during the concert if they don’t bother you while you play the bass, you’ll look fucking badass, so powerful!”

Despite Mikey’s sigh, his face betrays him; a red tone slowly quickly takes over his cheeks and he looks away with a hum, a clear sign he’s already given in, making me chuckle happily.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty,” I say as I cup his face and press a kiss to his lips, “so hot, so awesome!” I try to give him a kiss between each word, though I end up chuckling again, this time followed by him.

“You’re as well.” He pecks my lips, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me closer. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” I brush my nose against his with my heart fluttering in my chest.

Through time, Mikey ends getting used to it and either forgetting or giving up on his previous ideas to give in completely to the excitement of finally wearing the rings, and seeing him with them on while in his jacket, the traditional Mikey fucking Way shirt along with skinny jeans and Doc Martens is enough to have me melting on the inside and quickly grabbing my phone to register the moment. He’s a little shy at the beginning, but soon agrees with the poses I tell him.

“Let me take a look!” He rushes to my side as soon as I bring my phone closer to myself, analyzing each picture and deleting the blurry ones in the process. Turns out the one in which he got distracted by someone in the end of the hall actually looks pretty cool.

“I fucking love it,” I sigh, gazing at Mikey again. He grins and pecks my lips, still a little shy about all of it.

The sound of footsteps has me looking away, and I wonder where the fuck Gerard showed up from since the hall was empty aside from Mikey and I standing here until a moment ago. He’s also in his stage outfit, and seeing everyone like this—given how Ray and Frank were wandering around earlier—gives me so much nostalgia. He brushes a few hair strands away from his face, looking like he’s going to keep walking just to stop in front of Mikey and take a look at him up and down. “Rings!” Gerard gasps, stepping closer to take Mikey’s hands in his, admiring the rings adorning each of them.

“Yeah, (y/n) convinced me to wear them.” Mikey presses his lips together in a smile.

“So fucking cool,” Gerard hums with a nod. “Aren’t they going to make playing harder or...?”

“Ah, no!” Mikey shakes his head. “‘Just put them on to take a few pictures, I’m actually just gonna keep a few during the concert!”

Gerard goes silent for a moment, observing the rings again, before he’s nodding once more as he glances at me as if in approval. “Yeah, awesome! You should listen to (y/n) more!”

Mikey scoffs sarcastically, just to playfully pout under the glare I shoot at him, though unable to hold back a smile. “Yeah, will do!”

_______________

tagging list: @lubbockshusband | @trans-ylvania | @newgirlinhell

#poison.fic #fan fic #fan fiction #mikey way x reader #mikey way #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x female reader #x male reader #x non binary reader #my chemical romance #mcr #mcr x reader #mcr oneshot #oneshot #mcr imagine #imagine

132 notes · View notes

kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

eijirou kirishima | f!reader, DARK CONTENT, drugging, noncon, but also the reader isn't not into it bc like...i have my limits okay, talk of vomit for a sec (no actual vomit), degradation, bondage, size kink, hair pulling, ripping clothes, slut-calling once or twice. minors dni!

— 3k words

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart? Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

"See somethin' you like, Sweetheart?"

"U-Um," you flush a deeper red than the stranger's hair and pray he can't see it under neon red lights. Either way, you've been caught red-handed, and recoil. "Sorry."

The stranger's crimson eyes soften before relaxing into a kind smile, and he lifts a dismissive hand. "I was just messing with you! That's on me."

He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head and the smile grows wider, displaying the rows of predatory sharp teeth that shouldn't look as gentle as they do. You relax in the seat to his right, immediately turning to the bartender to order a funny named a drink. The redhead raises an eyebrow, leaning his arm on the counter.

"A Stranger Danger?" He nearly deadpans.

"Club Special," you shrug. You've never been particularly great at holding your alcohol, but this drink provides just enough punch for a buzz, aka what you need to get through the night. The bartender slides over a tall, rose-dyed wine glass without another word.

"Eijirou Kirishima," the stranger says with his sharp teeth, offering a large hand to shake. He looks comical next to you, all hunched over the neon bar while you sit up straight for your head to reach his shoulder, and as you take the handshake, can't help but notice how his palm eats yours like it's nothing.

"Y/N," you smile. His hand lingers before it pulls away, and he tells the bartender he'll have what you're having.

"So," Eijirou starts once his order has been placed. "You come here often?" You snort at the cheesy line, and the way Eijirou smirks implies he knows just how cliché it is.

"Sometimes," you shrug vaguely. The club's fairly new, so it's not as if you can say you've been going here for years. You lift the drink to your lips, the sugar-crusted rim tickling the corners of your mouth. "You?"

He shrugs, "When I want to get out."

You nod at that and offer him your glass with a raised eyebrow. Eijirou shakes his head, lifting a glass of his own. Your nose scrunches.

"Beer?"

He takes a sip before answering, lips white from the foam before his tongue licks them over, "Stella Artois. Want some?"

Your eyes shift between your dainty glass and his not-so-dainty one before you snort, "I'll pass."

Eijirou shrugs, reclining back in his seat and beer in hand, "Suit yourself."

You pat your back pocket for your phone, but when you realize there's a loss of weight on one side, you pat your right buttcheek to realize you left your wallet in the car. Fuck.

"Uh, hey," you say, knocking the redhead on the shoulder. You figure he's trustworthy enough, and the bartender always keeps an eye out for you anyway. "I'll be right back—left my wallet in the car."

Eijirou nods at that as you push away from the counter practically shaking your head at how distracted you can be sometimes. Seriously, your wallet?

At least the bartender didn't ask for your ID. Yikes.

You slam the car door shut with a huff, wallet finally in hand as you trudge back to the bar. When you return, Eijirou's got the beer lifted to his lips and greets you with a small wave as you sit down.

"Long time no see."

You giggle while grabbing your glass by the neck. As the club starts to fill out, you begin to shrink into your shell—throwing the entire drink down the hatch fixes you right up, though.

"Oh wow okay, looks like we're just going for the whole thing, then," Eijirou chuckles as he takes a much more civilized sip of his. You smack your lips with a satisfied aah.

"Gotta get the buzz going somehow," you wink, before getting comfortable in your seat. Alcohol warms your veins already, prompting your body to start pulse in time with the bass of the music. Eijirou smiles, watching you.

"You like this song?" he asks softly, before adjusting so you're both sat the same way—elbows and backs against the counter, facing the club and all its chaos. You shrug.

"I guess. I've never heard it 'till now."

He tosses his head back onto his muscled shoulders in a chuckle, and you watch the entire act in slow motion. The glint of his teeth in the neon lights, how his chest balloons and quivers under the weight of a bellow. You find yourself staring much harder than you intend to, but he doesn't seem to notice, eyes locked on the dance floor.

"Touché, touché," he says upon recovery. The alcohol in your veins turns to syrup and time starts to blur more than you're used to it being, body so light and weightless you have to pat the chair to make sure you aren't floating. That usually doesn't happen.

"You okay?" Eijirou frowns when you falter. You pull a smile and nod.

"Mhm," you say, though silently panicking when you feel like you're falling out of your seat. You grip the countertop just in case. "Mhm, yeah."

He raises an eyebrow, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nod, before clearing your throat. Your body flashes hot then cold, and you wonder if you shouldn't have taken that drink down like you did. "I'm um—I'm going to go to the bathroom, one sec."

You're unsure if Eijirou says something as you leave because you pour all your energy into stumbling across the obnoxiously loud club, filled with too much bass and pandemonium for your liking. You're suddenly overwhelmed by everything and your esophagus goes numb at the thought of vomiting, but you make it to the singles bathroom just in time to shut the door and control your goddamn stomach.

With a sigh, you rest your head against the cool sink. The incessant buzz of the overhead lights is much, much better.

You take a deep breath and flick on the sink. Ensuring it's as freezing as it can possibly go, you launch some into your face. You don't even consider ruining the amount of work that went into your outfit today, because ultimately you aren't sober enough to give a shit, blinking back at your reflection to find it fairly blurry. You nearly stumble and fall, but your vice grip on the counter keeps you alive.

"You okay?"

The second you step back into the noisy club, Eijirou's there—with his sweet sharp-toothed smile, he's posted next to the bathroom door and you find yourself grappling his jacket for stability.

"Whoa—Careful now," He chuckles at your sloppiness with a lifted eyebrow. You blink once, twice—the spots floating in your line of vision don't disappear. His hands snake around your waist to keep you from falling and eating shit, and you dig your forehead into his muscled chest.

"Gotta—I gotta go home."

"Okay," Eijirou soothes softly upon realizing how utterly shit-faced you are. "How'd you get here?"

"Walked," you groan and nearly cry, looking up at him with a pout. Eijirou coos.

"Well, no offense but I don't think you're good to walk on your own, Sweetheart."

His voice is heady with something you can't quite recognize, but it's comfortable, and you melt into his chest with a weak nod.

"Mhm."

"Can I help you home?" He offers with a kind smile. You nod, fists gripping his shirt in tufts.

"Yes please."

"Oop—careful."

"I am al—hic—always so fu—fucking careful," you slur. Your body has gone so numb that Eijirou gave up and resorted to carrying you bridal style the rest of the way instead. But he has to set you down so you can stuff your keys in the door, but you can't even do that right.

"Need me to do it?"

"No!" You puff your cheeks, trying twice more before you successfully get it in the keyhole. "'Mma strong independent woman who don' nee' no mahn."

Eijirou chuckles, and using his big shoulder, opens the door to chauffeur you inside. Neither of you get very far, maybe halfway to your room, before your legs give out and the only thing that saves you is the hand on your waist.

"Down this hall?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod so profusely it gives you a temporary headache.

You blink and you're in your bedroom, your front hitting the sheets with a soft thump. Huh. Maybe he carried you the rest of the way. With a face full of pillows, you groan at the new and improved position as you feel the bed dip behind you, and Eijirou grab both of your wrists.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

Something soft and silk ties your fists behind your back. You recognize the material as the belt from your robe, tossed carelessly on your bed during the chaos that ensues every time you get ready for the club. It's not until you try to pull your hands apart that you realize they're tied tight.

"Pulling is only going to make it tighter," Eijirou says with an absentminded sigh, like he's done this before, and trepidation spikes in your chest once he raises your hipbone and slides a pillow underneath to angle them, the only way you could break free—especially with the new grip on your hips.

"Ei—" you try to squirm, legs kicking blindly into the space behind you, but once he seizes your thighs he's sitting on your calves to keep you in place. There's the undeniable sound of cloth ripping and your behind is suddenly met with cool air, prompting a shiver or two.

"Eijirou, what are yo—"

You're interrupted by a stinging slap to your ass and a growl. "Don't tell me I gotta gag your pretty mouth too, Sweetheart."

His voice is low and sharp with a threat, his grip tightening around your thighs.

"You're soaked already? Fuck...and I bet you taste so sweet too..." he bites back a groan in thought, sliding a finger down your slit.

He clicks his tongue but it's damn near mocking. You gasp as he fills you with two large fingers instead of one, body tensing as the alcohol-induced numbness fades in favor of amplified arousal. Eijirou chuckles at your reaction.

"Taking it so well already," he purrs, hand caressing the crest of your ass. In your defense, there isn't much you can do but take it. Ah-ah, Sweetheart—Speak up for me."

"O-Ow," you hiss when your head is wrenched. upwards via your hair to expose your broken moan. Eijirou's grip only tightens after you complain, and you can feel his hot breath ghost the base of your neck. His thumb finds your clit and doesn't move, it just sits there as heavy weight—and it's just as frustrating as it is teasing.

"Ei," you rasp into the pillow, voice hoarse and thick. "I nee—fuck, more—"

"More?" He chuckles derisively, shaking his head with a tut. "Two fingers and you want more? Fuckin' slut."

Each word is loaded with something pitifully mocking and if you were in any other position you would've curled a lip and spat back. But that's a little hard with your face in the pillow and Eijirou's weight above you, isn't it? You shake your head against his fist until he lets go in favor of crackling a solid hand against your ass.

"Oh, you like that, don't you Sweetheart?" He grunts and his fingers increase in speed, the lewd squelch bounces off the walls of the bedroom and echoes in your head in the most insulting way. "My fingers fill you up that good?"

"Y-Yeah, I—" you choke around drool that gathers in the corners of your mouth and shake under his palm. "Fuck me Ei, I nee—"

The quick spank cracked against your ass shakes you from your thought process. "Dirty fucking girl—you really so desperate to let a guy you just met fuck you like this? So goddamn easy."

But he's removing his fingers regardless, stuffing them between your swollen lips as he assumes the space behind you. You hear the quiet fumble of his belt and the run of his zipper, before you feel his hot cock pressing against your soaked entrance.

Eijirou pushes in with a groan, his free hand finding your hips to keep them in place. Your legs thrash as he fills you up with a pleasurable burn, and by the time he bottoms out, you're positive he's filling you up all the way to your lungs.

"Fucking hell," he heaves above you, and the fingers in your mouth disappear to grasp the sheets. You shake along with him, back straightening in a poor attempt to alleviate the burn—and he barely gives you a second to breathe before he's pulling out and slamming back in.

"Fuck!"

You jump each time the head of his cock rams against your cervix, feet scrambling in a poor attempt to escape. Eijirou growls and puts all of his weight in his hips to ensure you'll stay still, a big hand smushing your face into the sheets.

"Sing for me, Sweetheart—I wanna hear ya."

Your voice cracks as Eijirou speeds up, simply using you for his own pleasure—but maybe that's what excites you the most.

"Ei—"

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart?" He spits, and you can feel the sweat dripping from his shoulders onto your exposed back. "Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

You whimper uselessly and nod, but Eijirou growls, yanking your head up for a proper answer.

"I said, don't you?"

"Fuck I—" he hikes your hips even higher for a better angle and gets one, the head of his cock forcing a scream out of your lungs as you yelp, "I do!"

"'Course you do," he chuckles, and drops your head back onto the pillow, "'Course you fuckin' do—"

"Ei-Eiji—" you gasp like you've been underwater forever. "I can't, I nee—"

"Dumb little baby can't even speak," he coos, before his hand finds the sides of your neck and squeezes. "What? Whadd'ya need, Sweetheart?"

And honestly, you're not completely sure what you need, you just know you're chasing after *something—*and Eijirou's got you sprinting after it while you melt into the sheets into a hot, gooey mess. You think the split ends of EIjirou's hair ticking the back of your arms, but you aren't sure. The only thing you are sure of is the burn between your legs and the feeling of being very, very close.

"'Mma cum!" You squeal, the vein in the side of your neck bulging. Eijirou grunts and slides a calloused hand under your stomach to play with your clit, hissing as you squeeze around him.

"Awe, the little slut's gonna cream all over my cock?" He coos, and you're positive his hips speed up just a bit. The grip on your neck slides to the hands tied behind your back for leverage. "Yeah she fuckin' is—I can see your eyes rolling back already."

And he's right, because the weight of your orgasm knocks the wind out of your lungs and your lips round to form and 'o'. You couldn't say if you screamed or not, as the ringing in your ears peaks with your orgasm. The only reason you know Eijirou finishes is because his hips stutter to a stop while you lay face down in the pillow, heart thrumming against your ribcage.

"Hey, you okay?" Eijirou nearly scrambles to get your back on your chest. You know this type of thing gets him nervous, but he does it oh so well, and there isn't much you can do but smile at the ceiling lazily.

"You just railed me into the sheets and you're asking if I'm fine?" You snort at your boyfriend's frazzled appearance—and the afterglow doesn't help, his chili red hair sticking in every other direction except the one it's supposed to.

"Yeah," Eijirou doesn't even hesitate and then gives you a quick peck on the lips. His voice edges on a petulant whine as he says, "I was rough, Sweetheart."

"Because I asked you to be," you quirk an eyebrow and finally, the redhead stumbles to your joint bathroom butt naked. "And don't forget to wet the towel this time!

A little shuffling in the bathroom, and then:

"That was one time!"

"And my vag will never recover!" You holler back. Eijirou just snorts before the white noise of a running sink takes possession of the conversation, and you scoot to the section of your shared bed that isn't soiled with a sigh.

You roll onto your side and come face to face with a framed selfie of you and Eijirou on your first date. Next to that one is first anniversary, second anniversary, third...

Now you're edging on the fifth, comfortable enough where he's walking around with his soft dick out and you've given up in swatting at his hands every time they grab for your tits. You two are comfortable—this is comfortable.

Eyeing the bathroom door, you still hear running water. Sneakily, you reach for the drawer where Eijirou keeps the the ring he doesn't know you know he hides. But frankly, you're the only one who cleans this goddamn house, so it wasn't like you weren't going to find it. You open the red velvet box to blink down at a diamond ring, thumb caressing gem. It glimmers even when the lights are low, and you can't help but be jealous of it—which is silly. You know it'll be yours anyway. The ring is always smoother than you expect it to be, but that thought doesn't last long, because you quickly toss it back into Eijirou's drawer and assume a less suspicious position upon hearing the sink turn off.

"What?" he asks with a small grin as he walks in with a wet towel in hand. "You're giving me that weird look again."

You snort, rolling your eyes before adjusting so you face the ceiling again. Spreading your legs, you demand, "'S nothing. Now clean me up, big boy."

Eijirou huffs at that but he assumes the space between your legs with a light blush. You smile.

He'll do it. When he grows the balls.

#—𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #CLUB 777 #mha smut #kirishima smut #bnha smut

370 notes · View notes

nepenthendline · 3 years

Text

BREAKDOWN - TSUKISHIMA KEI

A/N: i cried writing this multiple times, but here’s some sad tsukki crying, I’m not proof-reading this bc if I do i’ll cry again ty

TW: mentions of depression, breakdowns/panic attacks, a crying tsukki and a crying reader

Can we cancel tonight?

Read the text that lit up your phone from Tsukishima. To be honest you’d been expecting it, but it still sent a pang of worry to your heart. You’d planned to meet up and go for dinner since you hadn’t had much time together due to assignments and classes, not to mention his training, but he had been a little off for a while now so it didn’t surprise you.

The past week or so he’d been more distant than usual: short responses whenever you spoke to him, rushing home whenever he had to leave the house and you knew he hadn’t been taking the best care of himself due to the dark circles under his eyes. It was like he’d reverted back to the Tsukishima you first met at the start of highschool - detached and guarded. A lot of people just thought he was an ass or that he had a shitty personality, and while that may have been the case at times, you knew why he acted that way. He was protecting himself. It took a while for him to open up to you, but you learned about his struggles, his depression and his worries. Even so, he still tended to bottle his emotions up for as long as possible, but he did improve. Over the years you’d known him you were lucky to watch him bloom; he became more open, more accepting of talking about how he was doing. He’d even come to you first on occasion when he felt himself slipping, and he smiled more. It was a beautiful sight to watch him have fun and be happy for a change, and you couldn’t be more proud. But progress also came with stepbacks, and he wasn’t safe from them.

What’s on your mind? You replied. You knew what was going on, but if he wanted to tell you himself then that was for the best. The three dots signalled his typing, then disappeared, then reappeared moments later. It was a minute or two before the message came through.

Don’t feel good

You stared at your phone for a few seconds, wondering what to do. Part of you wanted to leave him be and see if he could shake this by himself since that’s what he preferred, but you knew this had been going on too long.

Can I come over? You asked, since the last thing you wanted to do was turn up unannounced and make matters worse. You didn’t expect him to accept your proposal but it was worth a try, so when an ‘ok’ showed up underneath your message you were taken back a little. Things must be bad if he agreed.

In a rush you grabbed a jacket and your keys, before sliding your shoes on and heading out the door. His apartment wasn’t too far from yours luckily, however even the small journey made your heartbeat thud in your chest. ‘Hang in there’ you thought to yourself like a mantra in your mind, hoping the message would get through to him in some way.

After climbing various flights of stairs you were faced with his door. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second, before knocking softly and unlocking the door with your copy of the key. It was eerily quiet when you walked in and the only light that filtered through was the street lamps from the road below. Shutting the door behind you, you called out his name but received no reply. You took slow steps through the hallway, peering your head around each corner in aid to find him. His apartment wasn’t particularly messy, although there were some dishes and clothes laying around that usually had no place there. As the living room and kitchen were empty, you made your way over to his bedroom.

Your knuckles tapped on the wood as your other hand turned the handle to open the door; the room was just as dark as the rest of the apartment, however this shadow contained your boyfriend sat on his bed that lived in the corner of the room. His knees were bent up close to his chest as his arms rested on top of his knees. One hand was fiddling with his bottom lip as he stared emptily at the wall in front. You walked closer, slowly as not to startle him, and sat next to him on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge.

Even after the bed dipped under the added weight he didn’t once move or look away. His eyes remained locked on the wall and yours stayed firmly on him. His hair was messier than usual, and his eyes lacked the usual golden glow they radiated behind his glasses. For a man over 6ft tall and that trained almost every day, he looked so small and fragile curled up like this. You had never once thought of Tsukishima as weak, but there was a dull look of fear that was spread across his face that made him look like a lost, lonely child.

“Hey,” you whispered. His eyes snapped away from the wall and settled on you for a moment, where he nodded briefly and looked away once more. His breathing sped up from before; his shoulders and chest rising faster and harsher than usual. He was trying so hard to keep things together and you were surprised he even could for this long.

You shuffled forward on the bed to get closer and lifted one hand to brush away the hair that stuck to his slightly damp forehead. Even in the darkness you saw him swallow hard, his throat shaking in response. You gently slid the glasses off his nose, folding them up and placing them on the bedside table. As you turned back to him your eyes locked with his; they were wide, worried, yet so vacant. Your fingers brushed over his cold cheek before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders pulling him close to you; his head instantly found its way into your warm neck.

There were few seconds of complete still and silence, until a sob broke out from his throat. His whole body shook as you held him, with one hand combing through his hair in an attempt to soothe him somewhat. The room was filled with strangled breaths and whines as he cried, and your neck was already soaked with salty tears. You rocked your joined bodies back and forth a little, going with the motions of his own tremble, and turned your head slightly to press light kisses to his temple.

Tsukishima was not a crier, at all, but he was human and there was only so long he could bottle things up for. Even so, you couldn’t help but tear up as well at the sound of his anguish. It was heartbreaking to see him like this since he usually seemed so strong, so self-assured. There wasn’t much you could do for him at this point, but just being there to pick up the pieces as he broke was enough.

It was a while before he began to come down and the only reason he did was probably from exhaustion. His arms had found their way around your waist as he cried, clinging and tugging at your jacket as if to find support, and yours had not left their tight grip around him once. His breathing was still erratic, but his tears had muted down to occasional sniffles.

You pulled back a little, enough to see his face, and pulled the edge of your sleeve over your hand to wipe away the dampness on his cheeks. A red hue covered his entire swollen face and his eyes were raw with irritation yet, despite the current event, he still managed to look beautiful. The moisture glimmered in his eyes, but it wasn’t the shine you were used to. You dropped your hold on your sleeve and instead cupped his cheek in your hand. Instantly, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into the heat of your skin.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, still hushed as you spoke however he shook his head and sniffled, raising a hand to wipe at the tear that fell from his eye. You nodded slowly in response, looking down to think for a moment.

“You can get through this, I know you can,” you started as he stared at you with fluttering eyes and pursed lips, “we’ll do it together, ok? We’ve done it before and we can do it again.” He hesitated for a moment then nodded vigorously as a whimper sounded from his mouth.

“It’s just… it’s so hard,” his voice broke as he spoke, looking away from you towards the wall. You had to swallow away the lump in your throat as it burned with tears brimming in your own eyes; you had to be the strong one for him, he needed you now. Your thumb brushed across his cheekbone, collecting each tear as it fell and nodded.

“I know, baby, but you’re doing so well. I’ve got you.” He replied with a ‘thank you’, yet the sound was masked by choked breaths. You pulled him close to your body once again, pressing your cheek firmly against the side of his head and dragged a hand up and down his back. “We’ll figure things out tomorrow. We can look into things to help you, but for now let’s focus on your breathing and getting settled, ok?” He nodded once more against your neck, taking a deep breath after you demonstrated.

It took a few minutes but he got there eventually. You could feel his heartbeat through the hand on his back, and it had slowed to a somewhat regular speed, and his shoulders drooped from their tense hold. You pulled away, telling him that you’d be back in a moment to get some water and headed to the kitchen.

Not bothering to turn any lights on, you shuffled through the cabinet to get a glass and held it under the running tap. The rippling of the water filled your eyes, and a few tears rolled down your cheeks as you gasped, quickly reaching up to wipe them away. You sat the glass down on the counter and stared up at the ceiling, clenching your eyes shut as you took one deep breath in. You wiggled your hands by your sides as you let out the air in a huff, trying to distract yourself for a moment. With a sniffle, your hands raised to swiftly rub at your face and let out a small, distressed groan. ‘Not now’, you thought as you picked up the glass again, ‘we can do this later.’

You took a final deep breath, mustering up the last bit of strength you had and walked back into the bedroom. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but accepted the glass with a hum of a thanks. He took a few sips as his eyes darted back and forth between you and the darkness of the room. The glass was almost empty as he held it in his hands, brushing his thumb over the rim in thought.

“You’re just as bad as me sometimes, you know that?” He spoke, looking up at you through his wet lashes. Your brows knitted together for a moment, but it wasn’t long before you understood. You let out a weak laugh, wiping your damp cheek with your hand. You saw the tryings of a smile for the first time on his lips.

“I said we’d do this together, so I’m just getting in the spirit,” you mused as the odd tear fell, and he chuckled somewhat. One had left the bottom of the glass and seeked out yours, taking it in its grasp and squeezing.

“It’s gonna be ok,” you whispered, although you’re not too sure if it was to him or yourself. He brought your joint hands and pressed a light kiss on the back, letting his lips linger for a second.

“It’s gonna be ok.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagine #haikyū!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #Tsukishima x reader #Tsukishima kei

329 notes · View notes

collisiondiscourse · 3 years

Text

BKDK - Highschool Romantics Headcanons

LOVE ME some good old fashioned highschool romance shenanigans so as per my brand, lets make it bkdk!! bc tbh i havent made a hc list in a while

its second year highschool! things have calmed down significantly and for class 1-A this means that its time to celebrate their teenage years like they werent able to before

this means more movie nights--more days they get to spend having fun and being regular kids like they shouldve always been

meanwhile bkdk? after confessions and apologies made on bloody battlefields and quiet hospitals at the dead of night... its almost comical how cheesy they are

deku sneaks up on kacchan during lunchbreaks, dragging him to the training fields where he serenades him with a guitar and laughs as a small crowd of their schoolmates whoop in glee

he sings songs of youthful love and friendship, awkward voice smoothing into something beautiful and charming

in return, katsuki learns new songs. he learns to draw and to play the drums even better--living for that shocked little smile when he draws doodles of deku and dedicates especially sappy songs to him during their monthly school jamming session

they arent together at this point, technically. no one knows what they are. no one can begin to label what they have either.

but its definitely good.

its bright and its beautiful and its loud, so theyll protect it with their eyes wide open but in the meantime class 1A just sits back and watches the twin stars of UA unravel like leaves in the cool mornings of fall

they go everywhere together, always holding hands. bakugou and deku have promise rings, little matching all might insignias glinting in the sun

they won those in an arcade somewhere. no one knows what the promise is, and no one really bothers to ask

katsuki really likes lending izuku his jackets. its nothing he says outright, just the fact that he's always ready—always one arm out of its sleeve—to bundle his sweaters and drop it into the lap of the unsuspecting nerd.

"geez, is it just me or is it really co—" *flop*

sometimes kirishima worries about his best friends allowance at the rate in which he has to replace all his jackets

they brawl in the hallways, rough house on the train station, cuddle when its cold and the common room is filled with people and light

deku often likes to surprise katsuki with little gifts. he sneaks spicy candies into the other boy's backpack between classes, slips giftcards and notes of appreciation between the pages of katsuki's textbooks

in return, as he does with everything, katsuki goes big. sometimes he surprises deku with a giant teddy bear, or soft hoodies that remind him of the other. he'll get the whole bakusquad in on it and fill the hallways in the morning with encouraging yells and loud boisterous laughter

sometimes, obviously, they'll still mess up. They're still teenagers, still human.

Deku will sometimes not say things that he should and Kacchan will sometimes say things he doesn't mean.

they'll fight and yell and unsettle the dorms with how charged the air becomes. sometimes Aizawa's worried they'll go back to ground beta and increase the hero course's already abysmal annual repair budget again like they used to do when they were stressed and repressed and each other obsessed

but then bakugou will sneak into dekus balcony at the dead of night, like some sort of delinquent trying to visit their goody two shoes lover at the risk of running into their shotgun father

(which in this case, bakugou supposes, would be uraraka--the metaphorical shotgun being a very tired todoroki)

and he'll knock on the window gently, trying not to smile as izuku opens the window and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"ka... cchan?"

katsuki lets himself smirk at last and tells deku theyre sneaking out.

phrases it like a taboo secret, even as aizawa watches from the security footage room exasperated but also kind of relieved because of all things his class has gone through, a little midnight tryst is the least dangerous of them all. its not even close to the biggest secret deku's ever had, and by god he has plenty.

but he stifles his giggles into the palm of his hand and watches as bakugou precariously sits on the metal railing, clothes a mess and leaves still stuck in his hair

"Our little secret, okay?" Kacchan jokes, red eyes glimmering with something raw and perfect. "Don't tell your dad about me."

Izuku rolls his eyes and reminds him that All Might isn't actually his father, god Kacchan! You've met my real dad!

Yet still, he lets it pass.

And then, oh so carefully yet recklessly as if they weren't the most powerful duo of their generation, katsuki reaches out and slips deku's hands in his and takes him away

takes him to a beach (Dagobah, because of course it is) in the middle of the night, the stars brighter than theyve ever been because everything looks different when youre young and in love

they lay in the sand and listen to the waves and some weird beat thats been stuck in Izuku's head. Bakugou turns to watch his eyelashes flutter against freckled cheeks and holds out a pinky.

"I'm sorry. By the way. I didn't mean what I said and I want you to be happy."

Izuku hums and they talk it out. Eventually the other boy holds his pinky out too and they link together like pieces of a puzzle.

Under the stars, the two of them make a million promises. Promises that they know they'll break, promises that they know they won't, promises that leave them uncertain and guessing.

"—but you promise, though. Right? You promise that we'll still be by each other? Us against the world forever and ever even after this. Even when we grow old?"

Their pinkies stay linked together and the two boys know for sure that it's one of those highschool promises that they will keep forever.

Deku stares into pretty red eyes that remind him of juicy apples and warm bonfires beside friends who never run out of stories to tell

Katsuki stares back into clear green eyes that remind him of calming tea and lush grass he lays down on in the familiar heat of a summer afternoon

they just. stare. stare and stare and stare and maybe, they begin to think

maybe in those eyes, i can see our future.

and its good.

its really really good.

230 notes · View notes

yangrdn · 3 years

Text

cough cough

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader, non-superhero AU

a/n: this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge! i loved writing sick!peter, it was v v cute. also, whilst writing this i'm sick, also a cold and my throat hurt until three days a go for three weeks straight. writing this was basically me wanting to have a peter to look after me, so i put him in my position. feedback is really appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this <3

ps: i put the prompt at the end bc i assumed it'd spoil a little of the story if i put it at the start. so if you want to know the prompt first, just scroll down.

summary: peter gets a sore throat.

w/c: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter

my m.list

request | my taglist

there are a lot of things peter’s good at. he nails every test that is thrown at him. if you asked him a question about physics, he’d give you the right answer right away. basically, peter’s smart. like, really smart. now, there’s always that one thing he is not smart enough for and needs your help for.

taking care of his body.

with that, he could get all the help possible, and would still fail. may already tried her best, telling him to zip his jacket when going out and it’s raining. or you’d tell him how he should’ve stayed at home instead of riding his bike to your apartment right after taking a shower. he had worn only a shirt and a pair of jeans, saying it was hot and that the sun was out.

you, on the other hand, were just pissed your boyfriend had risked getting sick again, because you know you’ll have to take care of him. not because may told you to, nope. peter just didn't let anyone come near him when sick, besides you. although it does make you question whether he does it because he wants you close, even when he feels like melting because of his fever, or that he wants you to get sick, too.

and now, here you are. walking to peter’s flat after may called you and informed you about your “over dramatic” boyfriend. he was asking for you the whole day, and wouldn't let her sit down for even a minute, she said to you on the phone after you agreed to come over. you feel bad for her. She was up everyday, working her ass off, only to come home to Peter complaining about his pain. Taking care of him so she could at least get a day off from a whining Peter was the least you can do right now.

You knock on the door twice and start taking off your shoes. It wasn’t raining, but you don’t want to enter the flat with dirty shoes and leave more work when you leave. May opens the door, a tired smile across her face and a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she notices it’s you standing there.

“Hi, May,” you smile at her and give her a side hug, already peeking behind her and seeing two empty boxes of tissues. You frown and pull back as you enter the room.

“He won’t shut up about his throat. His voice is nearly gone, so he won’t be able to talk that much,” she informs you and closes the door behind you as you make your way to Peter’s room. You nod and turn around.

“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he gets enough sleep anyways,” you tell her. May silently thanks you with two thumbs up as she walks slowly to her room, closing the door quietly.

You knock on Peter’s door softly, not wanting to barg in if he’s doing something or wake him up. When you get no response, you open the door and step in. The room is dark, the only light coming in from the sun shines shining through the blinds. On Peter’s desk, books are piled up and you assume those are all for his missing assignments. A pout forms on your lips as you realize he’ll need to do all his missing work for school once he feels better. You make a mental note to help him as you roll up the blinds, only enough to illuminate the room more. When your eyes cast on the brown haired boy laid on the bed, the pout is quickly replaced by a soft smile.

Peter’s laying on his bed, blanket draped over his body and only covering his hips and left leg, soft snores leaving his lips. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his chest glistening with sweat. Your eyes widen as you walk closer to him, placing your palm on his forehead. A quiet gasp leaves your lips once you feel how hot his forehead is. He stirs awake slowly, only moving his head away from your palm and whining. You try to stifle a laugh and make the thin blue blanket cover at least half his body. His eyes open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the new light.

“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face behind his hands. Peter’s head is spinning, his eyes only adding more pain when he opens them. You sit on the bed, making sure not to touch him and hand him the glass of water on his nightstand. After revealing his face, he sits up slowly and takes the glass. Drowning it in slow and painful gulps, Peter lets out a hiss after setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

Now that he’s fully awake, you take a second to examine his sick state. His cheeks are rosy, you can basically see that the poor boy is burning up. His head is leaned back against the cool wall and his eyes squeezed shut due to his headache.

“I’m in so fucking much pain,” he whines and opens one eye, squinting and looking at you. You sigh, taking note of the crack in his voice. May wasn’t lying when she said he had a hard time talking.

“May told me. Did you eat today?” He frowns and shuts his eyes again.

“No, I- I-,” he stops talking and coughs, hissing as he feels more pain in his throat. You take the water bottle next to him and quickly fill up the glass again, handing it to him. After another painful gulp, he continues.

“May made me soup, but I didn’t finish it,” he croaks out. You purse your lips and nod.

“You lay back down. I’ll get you some painkillers, make you tea and then come back here, ok?” He nods and opens his mouth.

“Ah, ah ah, no talking for you. I see the pain you’re in right now. I’d tell you I told you so when you came over, wet and only with a t-shirt, but then you’d start arguing.” With that, you leave his room and make sure to leave the door open behind you, enough to hear Peter in case he calls for you. You make your way to the open kitchen and take out the water heater, a bag of camomile tea from the cabinet and let the water boil. While it’s boiling, you search through the other cabinets for painkillers, until you find a packet of Ibuprofen. After checking and making sure it’s not past its expiration date and that Peter’s old enough to take it, you place it on the counter and take out a teacup, throwing the tea bag in and waiting for the water to end. After a minute, you slowly fill the cup, careful not to burn yourself. You take the painkillers, turn around and walk back to Peter, balancing the full tea cup in your left hand as you softly blow in it. It should be hot, but not too hot for Peter to burn himself when drinking.

You shove the door open with your foot and step in, placing the cup on Peter’s nightstand. He was already waiting for you, glass filled with water in hand and eyes narrowed at the door.

“Take these,” you whisper, handing him the painkillers and sitting on the side of his bed, only close enough for your thigh to be touching his hip. He plops a pill in his mouth, gulping it down and shaking his head.

“I can’t even swallow pills,” he groans. You lift your hand up, caressing the side of his face with your palm. A content sigh leaves his lips as you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. Pecking his lips softly, you ask.

“Do you want to sleep? I can close the blinds again and-” He shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “Can we watch a movie?” He whispers. You nod and help him move to the side on his bed. He takes the blanket with him, lifting it up and patting the empty side next to him.

You shake your head. “You’ll lay on me. I don’t want to put my whole body on you.”

“What,” A soft laugh escapes your lips. “I’m always the one laying on you. Let me take care of you,” Peter’s about to complain, but you’re already comfortably on the bed and patting your lap.

“Next time you-” You shush him, pulling the blanket over the two of you and grab the laptop sitting on his nightstand. He chooses a movie and places the laptop in front of you two.

“You’re lucky we have no school tomorrow. Else you’d be drowning in work,” you whisper into his hair. He sighs and glances at the pile of sheets and books on his desk.

“Already happening.” You giggle at his statement and turn your eyes back to the movie playing.

Midst watching the movie, Peter fell asleep on your lap and started snoring. A small smile displays on your face, watching your boyfriend lay comfortably with you and feel safe. You start running your hand through his hair as he stirs in his sleep, face squished against your stomach.

When he wakes up, he starts groaning and raising his head to look at you. You grin at him and peck his lips.

“Sleep good?” He shakes his head and lets it fall back on your stomach, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering it and letting out a content sigh.

“I’m still in pain, but I guess it’ll get better later,” he says, his voice muffled. You nod and purse your lips, thinking.

“Wait, Peter.” He frowns at your worried tone and looks up at you again.

“Didn’t we buy those tickets for the concert tomorrow?” You nod to his desk. His head turns to the side you’re looking at, eyes widening and staring back at you.

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck I’m-” he starts and lowers his gaze to your lap,” I’m sorry we can’t go to the concert tomorrow because of me. I know how much you like-” You quickly shut him up by cupping his face in your hands, pouting and shaking your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe. You’re sick and I want to take care of you. We can repeat this another time,” you say gently, staring into his eyes as the frown on his face deepens.

“But you always said how excited you were for this” he protests.

“I am, yeah, but I’d rather stay at home with you than going there alone and letting my boyfriend here. Or worse, dragging you with me,” you tell him. You see the corners of his lips pick up and feel your own eyes lit up as he tries to hide his smile.

“You don’t want me to go!” A dramatic gasp leaves your mouth and you throw your head back.

“What- no! I just- I like it when…” he trails off and leaves you silent. You stare back at him, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “I said that I just want to spend time with you and I’m kind of happy you’re staying here,” he whispers.

You grin and pull his face closer to yours, noses almost touching.

“You’re so in love with me,” He rolls his eyes and pushes you back, not before kissing the palm of your hand. “Yeah yeah I am. Am I not allowed to?”

You smirk and drape your arm over him as he shuffles closer to you.

A week later, Peter’s still sick. Or at least, that’s what aunt May told you. He didn’t leave his bed for hours and you slowly started to worry whether to take him to the doctors or not. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes from hours of studying and doing assignments that were already due last week. Why would he stay up at night, if he was sick? It’s what made you think whether he’s really faking it. He wouldn’t fake being sick and stay up the whole night, right?

“Y/N, did Peter tell you when he’ll come back?” Your head snaps up to the teacher talking to you, frowning and shaking your head.

“He didn’t. He’s been really sick for a little more than a week now, I don’t think he’ll come back this week yet.” The teacher nods and carries on with the class, taking a pen and starting to write something into a brown book.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn around, being greeted with Ned’s worried expression.

“You sure he’s alright? He didn’t text me either,” he checks.

“He did throw up like three times last week,” you trail off, thinking about how your boyfriend called you three times from Tuesday to Wednesday, telling you he threw up and asking if you could come over.

“I’ll go to his later anyways, should I tell him to talk to you?” Ned only nods, lowering his eyes back to the paper in front of him and starting to write down his answers quickly.

You knock on Peter’s door after May let you in. She was in a hurry, talking about having a job interview in twenty minutes and being late as she left you in the living room, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

There’s a faint “yeah” when you open the door, looking through the crack into his room and staring at the figure hunched up under blankets. Your eyes soften as you step into the room, closing the door silently. The blinds are up, different from the other day. His room also looks cleaner. He must’ve cleaned up the pile of clothes that was there last week and tidied his desk. You frown as you look at his bed. Yesterday he told you his head hurt too much and that he felt dizzy when standing up. Must’ve been May, probably, you shrug and walk closer to his bed, sitting down at the end of it.

“Hey,” His voice startles you. There isn’t a crack in it anymore and his eyes don’t squint as much at the bright lighting in his room as they did the last time you were here. You hum and lean back on your arms.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Pretty good.” He peaks up from under the blanket, smiling at you. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said and starts coughing. You frown and sit up straight, arm stretched out ready to grab the glass of water next to him.

“Uh, compared to last week. Yes, pretty good compared to last week,” he adds quickly and hides back under the blanket. You giggle and shuffle closer to his form, running your hand through his locks under the blanket and earning a sigh from him. He likes it when you touch him, whether it’s hugging, running your hand through his hair, or when you’d cling into his biceps as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly. There is always physical touch between the two of you.

“Do you want to drink something? I’ll go make you another tea,” you propose and stand up, leaving his bed. He nods and smiles at you. You leave the room and walk into the kitchen. This time, you close the door to his room completely. He’s feeling much better than last week, but also acting suspicious. Peter wouldn’t skip school and act sick. It 's not like him. Like, at all. Right?

The door to his room is closed, so the first thing Peter decides to do when you leave is jump out the bed and walk to his desk, taking his phone and getting back into his comfortable bed. He makes sure you can't hear any frantic steps or movements.

After you left Peter's room the first night he asked you to stay, he started to like the attention you were giving him. It's not that you don't pay attention to your boyfriend. In fact, Peter may be in the center of your attention and you his. You two make sure to show each other the love you feel and that you care.

It's just that with your busy schedules and upcoming exams, spending time together wasn't your top priority anymore. He misses the days when you'd go to Delmar's with him after school, instead of instantly leaving because of an essay that was due that same week. So he decided to do what he does, in his opinion, best. Lie. Act sick.

He did feel bad when he first started coughing every time May was around and she worried for him, but at some point he realized staying at home a little longer wasn’t that bad and he could use some time away from school. Although he could’ve just told May he was in pressure and wanted to stay home for a couple of days, he’d rather use this option.

Peter suits himself in his bed and turns on the phone, already flooded by texts from Mj and Ned telling him the homework they got for today and texts from Ned asking where he was at, and why he stays home for this long. He stifles a laugh at the memes Ned sent into the group chat and glances to the door at the muffled steps he heard. When he’s sure there isn’t anyone close to his room, he returns his eyes to the screen of his phone.

You’re on the other side of the door, side of your face pressed against the door and holding in your breath to not get noticed. You heard a laugh when you were in the kitchen. You left Peter laying in his bed, he was too dizzy to get up and grab his phone. You raise a brow and lean closer to the door, daring to press down the doorknob and silently stepping in, halting in the open doorway with your hand on your hip and an expectant expression.

Peter is sitting up on his bed, covers long forgotten on the end of it and phone in hand. He’s laughing at something playing on his screen, not noticing you standing in the room yet. You click your tongue, pursing your lips and waiting for your presence to be noticed. When your boyfriend throws his head back, letting out another loud laugh, you decide to let him know you’re there.

“oh, ok. so i see you’re better?” you quirk a brow, smirking. his eyes widen and his head snaps to you, watching you through plate-wide eyes. he sucks in a breath and puts his lip in a thin line.

“uhm, you’re back?” he croaks out. a nervous giggle leaves his lips and he shrugs with a smile plastered on his face, biting his bottom lip. “i- i feel better,” you roll your eyes and place the cup of tea on his desk, making him frown.

“you didn’t really think i’d place it next to you? i see you’re better, go get it yourself.” he opens his mouth, only to shut it again. it was true, he looks and feels much better than last week. and peter knows he’s back to his healthy state, he just kept it from you. which is why he’s shocked at first, then frowns and groans.

“come on! yes i feel better, but can you give me the cup?” he asks. you shake your head, balancing your weight on one leg, jutting your hip out. oh, peter knows that look on your face. you’re not happy. not utterly disappointed, but you don’t seem the happiest either.

“no way you made me and may care for you for a whole week straight, when you didn’t feel sick!” you throw your hands up in the air, letting out an annoyed huff. he whines at you in a clearly irritated state and juts out his lip, trying to look as sad as possible.

“no, don’t pull that face on me. i’m pissed off,” you mutter as you walk to him, sitting down on his bed with your back to his figure. “please? i’m sorry i lied,” he starts. you frown, turning around.

“why did you, in the first place. you now have much more work to do. oh, and have fun explaining may why you lied about being sick. she stayed up with you at night, hell, i went to sleep at three for you! peter, we had school at seven!” you cry out.

the boy on the bed with you just shrugs, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“i guess i liked the attention i got.” you huff and take a glance at him. when he stays serious, you turn your whole body to him. “you liked the attention i gave you?” you ask in disbelief. he slowly nods.

“do i not give you attention?” you worry. he quickly shakes his head, arms out to reach for your hands. “no! you do, it’s just, with school and everything,...” he trails off. you nod and squeeze his hand, demanding for him to look up at your face.

“i know we don’t spend as much time together as we used to, anymore. but peter, you know i’m in so much pressure because of school! besides, don’t you have to focus on school, too? and may also told you you should look for an internship because you didn’t get one last year,” you reason. he lets go off your hand, clearly not amused.

“i told her i don’t want one. what will it do?” “uh, look good on your college applications?” you say, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. he chuckles.

“besides that. i’ll find one, i just want to spend time with you for now,” he says softly as he scoots closer to your warm body. you put your arms around him, laying your head on his placed on your chest.

“i do too, pete. but i promise that in,” you stop and cran your neck to look behind you at the calender he’s got hung on the wall, “in five weeks we’ll be able to cuddle and watch movies like we did before again. now, we need to focus on school and you on your missed assignments,” you sigh. you feel him tense under you.

“what?! five weeks!” you smirk against his hair and squeeze him tighter.

“i was joking! two actually. but, until then, you’re stuck with me anyway studying so it won’t be that big of a problem if i stay away from you for one day,” you laugh and kiss his temple. he nuzzles into your chest, inhaling in your sent and sighing. “as long as we spend that time together, i don’t care how long it is until we finish all exams,” he whispers against you.

Prompt: Non-Superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed, because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick". Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.

taglists

permanent

@bi-lmg @aayaissaa @fandomxreaders

peter parker

@samscaptain @emistrash @hermayone

#peter parker x reader #lolbrosgetsicktoo #peter parker #peter parker x gn!reader #gn!reader #gender neutral!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #sick!peter parker #peter parker AU #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker one shot #peter parker oneshot

131 notes · View notes

jonahlovescoffee · 3 years

Text

Unbelievable | J.M.

a/n: bc jonah in the unbelievable music video is just hot hot hot hot hot :) i’ve been putting this one on hold for way too long. not rlly satisfied with the way it went but i promise it’s not that bad (i think) lol happy reading <3

summary: jonah’s outfit was unbelievable and so was his ability to pleasure you anywhere, even in the kitchen.

warnings: kitchen smut as requested by @averysbestyears

word count: 3362

“your taste; i could drink, i could drink, i could drink a whole damn case; every drip, every drip, couldn't let you go to waste”

You spent the entirety of your morning out and about running errands, only returning to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend late in the afternoon with bags of groceries in hand. With Jonah out with his band mates to film a music video for their upcoming single for who-knows-how-long, the apartment you shared with him seemed unusually quiet and empty without the constant couple banter between you both. In attempt to lessen the feeling of loneliness caused by the deafening silence, you put on some relaxing music on the stereo before putting away all the groceries, leaving only the necessary ingredients for a chocolate cake on the counter. After tying your hair up in a messy bun, you got started excitedly with your baking, humming softly along to the music as you worked. Despite having baked for countless times before, you still weren’t exactly good at it, your clumsy self often knocking over and accidentally spilling everything and anything everywhere which explained why your counter looked like a chaotic war zone half an hour later when you were done.

You heaved a relieved sigh when you managed to put the cylinder pan filled with cake batter safely into the oven, a triumphant smile plastered on your face. You were about to start cleaning up the kitchen when you heard the faint sound of the door opening and closing so you rushed to the living room immediately to be greeted by the sight of Jonah taking off his shoes at the foyer. He smiled when he looked up and saw you, opening his arms for you which you run into with glee.

“Welcome home, love,” you giggled as he picked you up off your feet and spun you around few times until you squealed and asked him to put you down.

“Missed you so bad,” he said and placed a tender kiss on your head as he followed you into the kitchen, an arm around your waist. “Baking again?” He asked after sniffing the air that was filled with the slightly bitter scent of the chocolate cake that wafted out through the oven, completely oblivious to your lingering gaze on him that was sneakily examining him from head to toe—eyes darting from his tousled brown hair to the dark grey t-shirt that hugged his muscled figure perfectly, showing off the subtle outlines of the toned abs hiding underneath, to his long white jacket that reached his knees and jeans of the same colour—and gosh, he sure looks handsome. How nice must it feel to let your hands roam his body and—

“Baby?” He called, snapping you out of your train of thoughts and you blinked several times at him who was waving his hands in front of you, trying to get your attention.

“Yes, what were you saying again?” You smiled sheepishly at him, light pink tinting your cheeks, embarrassed by your explicit thoughts although no one heard them apart from you. But Jonah had known you long enough to figure out the exact thoughts that were running through your head a moment ago. And as a good boyfriend, he couldn’t leave your wishes unattended, could he?

“Well, I was asking if you need help with cleaning but I think we’ll get to that later, hmm?” A smirk made its way onto his face as he backed you up until your back hit the edge of the counter and he pinned you against it, his tall figure towering over your petite one. “Since you’re so overly interested in admiring my body,” he said smugly and you blushed a darker shade of crimson, guilty as charged.

“It’s...it’s your fault for dressing like this today,” you stuttered nervously while avoiding his gaze, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I’m glad you like my outfit,” he licked his lips before cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head so that you were looking at him directly in the eyes. “But I think you’ll like it better if I take them off, am I right, baby?” He asked, his voice turning husky.

“No! Definitely not! What are you talking about?” You hurriedly waved your hands in front of yourself in denial but your wavering tone wasn’t convincing enough. This bastard already knew the answer to his own question and the last thing you would do was admit it out loud to feed his ego (actually it was because you were too much of a coward to do so but we don’t talk about that here).

Jonah could feel his self control that he had put on himself ever since he walked through the front door gradually faltering at the sight of how innocent you looked on the outside — how flustered you got at the mere implication of sex like you had never done it your entire life — and how much it fueled his desire to take you right then and there in the kitchen, which was precisely what he was going to do. “Well baby, I’ll keep my clothes on then, but this means you gotta lose yours.”

“No, that’s not what I meant...ahh,” you were cut short by a gasp of your own when his lips connected with your neck without warning, generously leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your neck, sending a shock of heat through your core.

“Then what do you mean, sweetheart?” With you guys’ handful of previous experiences, it didn’t take long for him to find your sweet spot, abruptly scraping his teeth against it, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, earning a moan from you as your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, tugging at his brown locks lightly until a groan managed to slip past his lips.

“I...,” you trailed off, still too timid to speak your mind. When you didn’t make a move to continue your sentence, he pulled away from you and you almost whimpered at the sudden loss of contact.

“Go on. I’m waiting,” he urged, his fingers drumming the countertop impatiently, waiting for your reply. “I won’t start until you tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel you,” you replied quickly, spilling out all the words out in one go and with a satisfied grin, he lifted you up onto the counter and he was standing between your legs.

“Yeah? Which part of me, baby?” He teased, both of his hands now on your waist, his thumbs gently tracing random patterns.

“Every part of you, Jonah, fuck. So can we stop with the talking and start doing now?” You yanked him closer by the chain around his neck before finally connecting your lips with his, opening your mouth on a second’s notice when you felt his teeth sink into your bottom lip lightly, granting his tongue full permission to slip into your mouth almost immediately. You couldn’t help but release another moan as soon as you tasted the coffee that he probably just drank in the car on the way home on his tongue.

Not just any coffee. You knew the difference between the tastes of all kinds of coffee like the back of your hand. The bitter taste with a hint of the sweetness of chocolate that engulfed your senses now was definitely not the taste of the straight black coffee he usually preferred.

No, it was the taste of mocha—your favourite type of coffee.

“You prick, you expected this to happen, huh?” You asked when both of you pulled away to catch your breaths, your faces remaining inches apart, your breaths mingling with each other’s.

“Maybe,” he chuckled darkly as his fingers slowly curled around your neck, “We always end up naked after every of my band photoshoots in one way or another so why not be prepared this time?”

Before you can let a string of vulgar curses escape, he attached your lips with his once again and from the way his hand tightened around your neck and the rougher movements of his tongue, you knew that he wasn’t planning on holding back his feral hunger for you this time round, subsequently making you moan with extreme pleasure when your tongues entwined and also at the thought of what he was about to do to you.

You angled your head to deepen the kiss as your hands grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, a silent plea for him to take it off, in which he responded with shifting his body enough for you to slip it off, the expensive white material thudding to the ground, revealing his strong tattooed arms. You let you fingers trace his biceps for a moment before moving your hands downwards to pull his shirt out of his jeans but he stopped you before you could remove his shirt.

“Don’t,” he said sternly into the kiss and grabbed both your hands in one hand quickly. He pulled away, biting your bottom lip with a force strong enough to make it swell slightly. “It’s not your turn until I say so,” he snarled and you felt heat pooling at your core just from the serious look on his face. “Now lie down,” he ordered and forced you down with the hand around your throat swiftly but carefully so you were laying flat on the counter, on top of all the spilled flour and some cake batter, the unkept baking supplies pushed to the very end of the counter.

He did not wait any longer to peel your shirt off you and you watched him exhale sharply as his eyes darkened, the black of his pupils almost consuming all the vibrant hazel surrounding them. “Fucking hell baby,” he tossed your shirt aside as his eyes drank in every curves and edges of your bare upper body. You didn’t bother to put on any undergarments when you changed after you got home from your grocery run, thinking that since no one’s home aside from you it’ll be totally fine. You made a mental note to do this more often in future because his stunned turned-on expression was definitely something you would want to see again. “Is it my birthday or something today?”

“You’re not the only one who came prepared,” you said cheekily, adding in a hushed tone, “Just so you know, I’m not even wearing anything underneath my pants either.” A string of profanities fell from his lips at your words as his hand made its way between your thighs, pushing your shorts aside to slip in his fingers. The wetness that his fingers were immediately greeted with was proof enough of your testament, earning a satisfactory groan from him.

“Now, where shall I start?” He asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he stared down at your shirtless figure splayed on the counter like his own personal feast. “Here? Or,” He teased, his hands travelled down to one of your breasts from your neck and let a finger draw circles around your nipple. “Here?” He tentatively dragged his fingers unhurriedly along your slit, collecting your ever growing slick, which had you whimpering and grinding against his fingers, in desperate need of as much friction as possible, yearning to feel more of him but the movement of his fingers remained so excruciatingly slowly.

“So fucking needy, aren’t you, my little slut?” he tisked, flicking his middle and index fingers between your hard nipple, earning an involuntary moan from you. “I’m barely doing anything,” he chuckled before taking his fingers that were coated in your sticky arousal and bringing them to his mouth, making sure that your gaze was on him as he licked them clean. “Tastes so fucking good as always.”

“Jonah, please,” you begged, “touch me more.”

“Oh I’ll do so much more than touching, babygirl,” you bit your tongue to suppress another moan at his words that were immediately followed by the sound of him falling onto his knees. His fingers gripped your thighs, pushing them further up and apart, his face nearing your dripping core. He let out a little huff on the inner part of your thighs, causing your legs to slightly shiver and your pussy flutter.

“Fucking gorgeous.” he breathed, his eyes staring hungrily at your cunt before laying his tongue flatly against your clit and let you rut yourself against it for a second before he unexpectedly gave it a harsh bite with a little bit of force. You slammed your hands against the counter right away and let out a loud gasp.

“Whoops, my bad,” he chuckled and you felt him smirk against your flesh. “Let me try this again.”

He wrapped his mouth around your throbbing clit before starting to suck it softly, his tongue flickering back and forth against it before moving his mouth lower and sweeping his tongue against your folds. It almost hurt with how incredible you were feeling right now. His mouth was hot against you as his velvety tongue continued swiping back and forth against your clit, faster and harder each time. The way he groaned at the taste of your body intoxicated you with more lust and you soon found yourself unable to think, hear, feel or remember anything else save for the name of the male that was eating you out like it was his last meal.

And when he finally moved his tongue into your pussy, it felt too good to be true. So fucking good that you were about to combust with pleasure. He went at a slow pace at first but then sped up every three thrusts until you were softly chanting a continuous series of “yes” under your breath. It seemed that he didn’t think that was enough, for he moved a finger to your weeping core, the rough pad of the tip of his finger pressing down and moving around in circular movements.

He was so rough but it felt so good, every lick and suck successfully building flares of heat in your adomen. “I...I’m close,” you stuttered, not really able to speak in your current state of bliss.

“Yeah? You wanna cum, darling?” Jonah asked, replacing his tongue with two fingers that managed to slip into you ever so easily due to how wet you were, pumping them in and out quickly.

“Uh-huh,” You nodded, your hands finding their way to him naturally, clinging onto him for dear life as he skillfully finger fucked you, your high gradually approaching with each thrust of his digits. Without any warning, he attached his lips to your bundle of nerves and sucked on it, right when he curled his fingers inside you, easily finding and hitting your g-spot. Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails digging into his thick, supportive muscles.

“Cum for me, darling.”

Your walls tightened on him and an orgasm wracked through your body at his command, back arched while your thighs trembled as you came undone around his fingers. Panting slightly, you tried to regain your breath but before you knew it, his tongue went back to work again, swirling around to capture every single drop of your sweet juices into his mouth, the slurping noises and the ethereal feeling of his tongue on you turning you into a moaning mess.

“Fuck, darling, you taste so good,” he complimented, pulling his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, licking them clean while looking at you and you let out an unrecognisable sound from the sight alone. “Couldn’t get enough of you. C’mon here.”

You did as he told, sitting up and scooting closer to him, your hands itching to undress him but you didn’t once you remembered his warning. You despised him still being fully clothed while you were already stripped bare for him but you also knew that one, going against him would accomplish nothing but getting punished on your part and two, he would adhere to your wishes once he felt like it.

And you were right.

“Take it off, I know you want to,” he said and you pulled his shirt off him excitedly before undoing his belt and his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear and they pooled at his ankles, leaving his member standing at attention, already leaking with precut with all the lust bottled inside him.

“Wanna keep you close when I fuck you senseless, baby,” he teased your entrance with the tip of his cock and you whined. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He nudged your folds slightly and you nodded.

“I want your dick so bad,” you admitted with a hint of shyness and his lips broke into a small smile before pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Mmhmm, and I’ll give it to you, pretty girl,” he sheathed himself inside of you and you let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion.

Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Jonah completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasped your hips so firmly his knuckles turned white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands found their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath your hands.

“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Jonah’s voice was a low growl as he thrusts into you, the slaps of your skin interacting between each thrust was like a sinful symphony. “So fucking tight.”

The smell of the cologne he wore danced in your brain as he worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly

“Just cum already, you know you want to babygirl,” he muttered to you through his clenched teeth, groans of his own escaping every now and then. You took your opportunity and let your pleasure go for the second time, your orgasm taking over as your back arched even more, your toes curling as you moaned out in pleasure.

He came soon after, relentlessly pounding into you throughout his own orgasm, his thick warm seed coating the inside of your walls, the sensation making you shiver as your nipples started to stiffen up even more. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds before he pulled out, the cum sliding out and onto your inner thighs. He stared as it drizzled out for a few more moments before he gave a smirk, glancing back up to your breathless form and his expression softened right away.

“Guess it’s time for a good bath now, love,” he said as his hands reached behind you to grab some paper towels to clean up the mess between your thighs. You tiredly rested your head on his shoulder once he’s done and the paper towels were discarded into the bin.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore though,” you complained, arms already around his neck, hoping that he’d get your hint, which he did.

“Fine, I’ll carry you,” he said with a laugh, hands sliding down your spine to grip your thighs firmly and you wrapped your legs around his waist before he hoisted you off the counter and started walking towards your bedroom. “You always turn into a baby after sex. How cute.”

“I’m your baby so of course I am,” you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“My pretty little baby girl, hmm?” The way his voice dipped a tone when he pronounced those words near your ear made your heartbeat drop to your southern region instantly and you felt your pussy gradually turning wet. Again.

He chuckled, a sign that he felt the changes in your body too, earning a smack on his back from you. “Shut up. It’s your fault.”

“Good thing the bathtub is big enough for two then.”

taglist: @chilling-seavey @neralondon @mia-marais @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @kvd963 @cutiebandlover202 @savspersonalproperty @slowdownatthelotusinn @angelzacharyy @freakshows199 @my-fangirling-outlet

#wdw #why dont we #corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines #jonah marais x reader #jonah marais smut

126 notes · View notes

cheegu3 · 3 years

Note

omg i have an idea for the jay series if you have the time 🥺 where you try to escape again and get outside but he catches you and brings you back in, but once inside again you get out of his grasp and hide somewhere in his house and he has to find you cat and mouse style 😶

Ty for saving me u genius bc I was running out of ideas again 🥴💜💜 this is quite a long one tho yikesss

TW / Trigger warning: yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, mentions of a dead body, mentions of stockholm syndrome

Word count: around 2k

Trapped Pt. 3 ~ Yandere Jay series

Cat & mouse 🔪

After your little morning ordeal with Jay you two went up together, eating breakfast and cuddling. You found that he was in a better mood than usual not even bringing up your escape attempt once. Maybe he was over it by now, being confident that this time you actually wouldn’t try it again or rather if you did, he’d always find you.

When the movie you’d been watching together ended he stopped stroking your hair and it was quiet except for the pouring rain outside. These were your favourite kind of days.

‘‘ Will you take a day off today, we can stay in and watch more movies ‘‘ you said in a small voice still testing the waters.

He bit his lips, sitting up on the sofa now and pushing you away slightly.

‘‘ No I have something important to do, but‘‘ his eyes narrowed ‘‘-you better behave ‘‘

For a moment you caught yourself enamoured with him, ready to follow his orders and stay home waiting for him exactly like he wanted you to. But you caught yourself thinking these things and felt disgusted. Must be Stockholm syndrome, besides this is the perfect opportunity to escape again.

‘‘ y/n? ‘‘ he raised his voice making you flinch and quickly look up at him

He clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction, watching you closely.

‘‘ I said, IF you behave I’ll give you a better treat than the one I gave this morning ‘‘

‘‘ Oh, yes yes okay, I will ‘‘ you said distracted. Your head was buzzing thinking of all the ways to escape and the possibility of him finding you again. The anxiety was hard to keep under control as he got ready to leave the house.

‘‘ I’ll call you every hour ‘‘ he made sure that you were listening as he put on his jacket and headed out, giving you a kiss and locking the door behind him firmly.

An hour. You had one hour to escape, only this time you had to be smarter. You began to frantically go over the different plans over and over again. The anxiety and fear of him finding you again wouldn’t stop bugging you. But you made up your mind, gathering a few things, like a scarf and glasses for a disguise and was out the door in mere minutes after he’d left. You made your way quickly to the village when you were reminded of the incident there last time, so you decided to go past it, keeping your head low as to not make any of them spot you. They seemed to be too busy anyway, chatting to each other while carrying large boxes of various vegetables and fruits. As you passed by them, by now having spotted your destined location, a bus station, you caught a few words.

‘‘ I heard Jay gave the girl a very hard time ‘‘ a woman said

‘‘ A deserved one ‘‘ a man answered snorting

‘‘ Indeed ‘‘ another said

Instinctively you wrapped the scarf around your head a bit tighter and increased your pace. They paid you no attention though and the chatter eventually got more distant as you made your way over to the booth. Well there, you were extremely grateful as you saw that a bus would be coming in under a minute and when you looked up you saw the blue rectangular vehicle approaching. Its sign read the name of the town your friend was living in which earned a sigh of relief from you, growing more anxious the longer you stayed here. The bus got closer and stopped with a squeaky sound flinging the doors open. You practically ran onto it and sat at the back. Bouncing your leg up and down anxiously, you kept your eyes on the door waiting, begging for it to close as if he’d jump on any minute now.

Then, it finally closed and the bus was in motion. You looked behind through the window at the back of the bus as the village, landscape and that damned house swept by. You were free at last. How could he possibly find you now, you didn’t have a GPS or a tracker because you didn’t have a phone and the villagers didn’t see you. Leaning your head back, resting it on the seat you began to relax telling yourself that you were no longer in danger and everything was going to be okay.

A sudden stop that threw you forwards jolted you awake. Confused and newly woken you looked around and to your relief you weren’t back in the house. You were at the final stop, your friend’s town. As you got off the bus you quickly phoned your friend, and when the rain started to pour again you took cover under the station’s roof. She thankfully arrived in a few minutes, rushing to the car as soon as you’d finished explaining your...situation. The familiar blue sedan pulled over to the side right in front of you and you practically ran to it, swinging the door open and checking several times if it was locked.

‘‘ Hellooo? ‘‘ your friend snapped her fingers. You had been too busy being paranoid to even pay attention to her and it made you feel guilty now.

‘‘ I’m sorry, you know I’m just really paranoid. What if he’s here he- ‘‘

Your friend clasped her hand over your mouth muffling your protests.

‘‘ It’s fine y/n, you know I live at sea in a very small fishing town. How would that psycho even find us? ‘‘ she gave you a reassuring smile and playfully hit your shoulder.

Then she pushed the gas pedal down and down the bumpy road you two went, towards the little cottage sitting alone on the top of the hill. Your anxiety came back once again when you saw the fast approaching cottage. It was in the middle of nowhere, quite literally. If he were to find you here, you’d be dead. The nearest neighbour was what...3 miles away? Your friend noticed your breathing increasing slightly and gave you a few pats again as she forced the small car up the hill. She stopped it, stepped out and slammed the car door. She’d taken your stuff inside and left you there probably to cool off a bit. It didn’t take long until you followed her inside because you had made up your mind. She was right. He’d never ever find you or hurt you again. You were safe here and she said that you could stay as long as you wanted to.

You spent the rest of the night talking mostly about lighthearted stuff to not make you scared again but then you explained a bit about him, how he treated you and how he really was. After you chat was over and the sky had turned dark you went to your separate bedrooms. You climbed into bed and turned off the light falling asleep shortly after.

A loud bang awoke you making you open your eyes. It was still dark outside and the fear instinctively came onto you expecting the worst. Listening closer, having gotten out of the bed and laying your head against the door, you thought the noises sounded like muffled screams, whispers and thudding. Was he here? Without thinking you pushed the squeaky door open and as your friend’s cottage was very small you walked right in to the living room where you saw the scene which had been making all the noises.

It was your boyfriend, sitting on top of your friend’s lifeless body with his hands wrapped tightly around her neck.

‘‘ Get away from her! ‘‘ you screamed lunging towards the pair.

But when he stood up you already knew it was too late. You could see that she wasn’t breathing, her eyes looked soulless and she laid there like an empty shell staring into nothingness.

‘‘ Found you ‘‘ he smiled, a smile that broke you. Because looking at him you could see that he hadn’t struggled at all to find you. He wasn’t stressed, worried, surprised, angry or a mess. It made your heart sink. You truly never could escape from him. You didn’t even notice when his guards lifted you up dragging you towards his car, not even when they had strapped you in and started driving had it kicked in. You felt so numb, so helpless.

Through the whole car ride none of you spoke a word but you could sense that he was satisfied. Perhaps he wasn’t that angry because he had killed someone you loved so dearly, your best friend. That’s a greater pain than any hits or cuts could ever do, and he knew that. He leaned back during the ride and really enjoyed the look on your face, replaying your face over and over again as you saw the lifeless body of your friend.

The car ride came to an end way quicker than you would’ve liked it to. The guards were sent off by Jay and he turned to you.

‘‘ So naive. You didn’t learn a thing from last time did you? ‘‘ he said mockingly.

The hate was bubbling up in your chest and all you wanted to do was to punch him, kick him, anything, even kill him the way he brutally killed your best friend. But what you wanted more than anything right now was to get away from his mocking, smirking face that you wanted to punch so bad. But you knew if you did punch him you’d get it back but ten times worse so instead you stepped out of the car. When you did so, the guards stopped and watched you closely.

Suddenly you darted in to the mansion. You had to find a hiding spot. Anywhere away from this monster, even if it was for a minute would be ideal right now. And then, you’d try again and again. This incident wouldn’t stop that..surely. He took his time walking in after you and shouted out.

‘‘ Oh. So you wanna play darling? ‘‘ he sneered and you held you breath as you ran into the library, one of the rooms closest to the entrance which had caught your attention. It was huge and messy which made it the perfect hiding spot. You walked in, trying to walk as silently as humanly possible and crouched behind the first row of bookshelves in case he had gone into this room. When you didn’t hear anything you went to the inner corner of the shelf and sneaked along the walls, looking to your side on every aisle in case he’d be there waiting, ready to pounce on his prey.

When you had reached the end you saw a hiding spot that caught your attention. In one of the corners, in the large bookshelf there was a small space behind the bookshelf where you could squeeze in. Having done so, you pushed the books closer to each other as to give more coverage and waited. A few seconds had passed, then minutes maybe hours? And your hope had started to come back. Listening a bit closer the silence baffled you and left you almost breathless. He must be on the second floor now, now was your chance to escape.

As if on cue, your hopes were crushed when you heard the slow footsteps that you were all so familiar with.

Click, clack, click, clack.

They got closer and closer. Even though your heartbeat started to beat wildly the closer they got you were still hopeful. Your hiding spot was way too good. But when he came to the end of your row, the hope started to fade. They way he slowly walked made him seem confident and amused, something you recognised too well. But, to your surprise he walked right past you continuing slightly down the row closest to the wall where you had been walking along.

‘‘ I know exactly where you are ‘‘

He turned his back to you, stopping in his tracks and you swear he could hear your heart jump out of your chest by now.

‘‘ And, ‘‘ he said threateningly, growling slightly ‘‘ if you don’t come out dear little mouse I will play with your family instead ‘‘ the evil smirk came back.

You made a run for it as soon as he had said these words. The books you knocked down caught his attention and he had you down in just a few meters after you had tried to run. He had expected you to. Your face hit the cold floor causing you to cry out and the pain only increased when he twisted your arms painfully behind your back. You could practically hear the twisted sadistic joy in his voice as he said,

‘‘ I win ‘‘

#yandere kpop #kpop yandere #yandere #enhypen jay #enhypen #kpop imagines #kpop #kpopidol

118 notes · View notes

v-hope · 4 years

Text

»part forty one - priceless

»hobi’s girl

»jung hoseok x army!reader

after attending a bts concert and very clearly catching one of the members’ attention, you can’t help but get flooded with hate comments once people find your twitter account. who would’ve thought that would be the reason jung hoseok would find his concert girl, too.

a/n: helloo, this is one day earlier and also one hour earlier than usual, i know, but i already explained why 🤧 there isn’t much text interaction between seokie and y/n in this one bc they were together all day so like why would they text ya feel. bUT, i gotchu, fam 😤 smol drabble that i wrote at like 2am right under the cut 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

“Isn’t it weird how something so ordinary is so new to us?” you couldn’t help but point out with a light laugh as the two of you reached a bench, sitting down on it and pulling your intertwined fingers with his towards you, so that he would do the same.

Smiling at both your comment and the way your hand had tightened its hold on his, Hoseok nodded his head, moving slightly closer to you. “It’s been a eventful day, hasn’t it?” he joined in your amusement.

It was fair to say, it was.

Waking up earlier that morning to attend another meeting with him and his management before the statement was released, going through said statement a couple of times and suggesting a few changes, being there when it got posted on BigHit’s official page, still being there when they went through a good part of the comments to see what the general reaction was and how to proceed from now on, being practically mobbed by the paps that had somehow found out you and Hoseok were at the building... yeah, it had been a long, eventful day.

But now, however, it was just you and Hoseok, and no one else to disturb you. Just the way the two of you always wanted it to be like.

After getting lunch that day, the two of you had in fact headed towards the dorms like your boyfriend had let the rest know on the group chat. Nevertheless, as you drove past the quiet area he lived in, and your eyes fixed on that one huge and almost isolated park you would always see whenever you went to his place, the temptation of being alone together for just a little longer whilst also getting some fresh air, was way too strong to just ignore.

And so here you were now, for the first time ever in your relationship being able to be outside, together; having walked hand in hand through the entire place for what could’ve easily been hours, only enjoying each other’s company and admiring how peaceful it was right then, before you took a seat near where he had parked his car.

“I think it went well so far” you commented. “I mean, as well as it could go, at least”.

“Yeah” he agreed. “Although a lot of them didn’t exactly like the news, I’m glad the company made it clear not to mess with you. I think that’ll help a lot”.

“God, I hope so” you sighed over dramatically, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I think I’ll release a statement myself anyway...” he let you know.

“You will?” your head turned to him.

“Mhm” he confirmed. “I’m sure the company will ask me to at some point, given how many fans are demanding an explanation from me, so... the sooner, the better”.

You nodded understandingly. “Please don’t copy-paste Taehyung’s idea though”.

Hoseok laughed, shaking his head no before he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “I won’t, don’t worry about it”.

Allowing an adoring smile to take over your lips, you pressed a small kiss to his cheek — loving the way his eyes had turned into the shape of two crescent moons as he stared at you.

Your head snapped down to your pocket after feeling your phone buzz, taking it out and unlocking it to answer what you thought would be a text from either your best friend or one of the boys, trying hurry you and Hoseok back to the dorms — your eyebrows furrowing faintly at the name of your English classmate instead. Nonetheless, you decided to answer him right then anyway.

“Who are you talking to?” Hoseok asked out of curiosity after you had exchanged a couple of messages, softly letting his head rest on your shoulder and causing a smile to curve up your lips as your head leaned on his.

“Hosung” you let him know.

Not really knowing what to say to that, he just nodded — the way he kept his stare fixed on one of the trees on the other side of the park, when you knew he was dying to know what your classmate was saying to you, had a small giggle coming out of your mouth in a second.

“You know you can just read over my shoulder if you want, don’t you?” his eyes snapped up to you at your amused statement. “There’s nothing going on here that you can’t see”.

Watching the way he had rolled his eyes as he tried to suppress a smile, he just let his eyes fall on your phone after you had brought it closer to him, giving him a good view of it before you kept on typing.

“He’s offering to look after you at uni?” he wondered after one particular text Hosung had sent.

Reading the same as him, you nodded, biting your bottom lip before you glanced his way. “Unless that makes you uncomfortable, of course”.

“No, no” Hoseok was quick to deny, motioning with a nod of his head to your phone, as if trying to rush you into answering him. “I think that’d make me feel better, actually”.

“Really?” your eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah. I can’t be there with you… and you won’t take my offer of hiring you a bodyguard” he huffed, unconsciously wrapping his arm around your waist after you had snorted. “So it’s good that you have someone who can be there for you in a minute” his lips planted a small kiss to your shoulder before his head was once again resting on it. “As long as he doesn’t try anything weird though. Otherwise I will fight”.

You tilted your head back as a throaty laugh escaped your mouth, not wasting another second to softly press your lips to the crown of his head.

“Oh, I don’t think he will” you denied, scrolling up on your previous texts until you found the one you wanted to show him. “He said he stands no chance against you anyway”.

The smug smile that had just curved up your boyfriend’s lips, could only earn a snort from you, giving him a gentle push with your shoulder.

“What?” he asked, sitting up straight so he could get a better view of you as he squinted his eyes. “Was I not supposed to feel good about that?”

Amusedly rolling your eyes in defeat, you shoved your phone into your pocket before you stood up, causing his lost eyes and pouty lips to follow your figure.

“Where are you going?” he wondered.

“To the car? So we can go to the dorms?” you replied as if it was obvious, stretching your arm for him to take your hand. “We said we were getting lunch and would go there hours ago”.

“It hasn’t been that long” he shrugged, holding your hand nevertheless for you to help him up.

“The sun is about to set, you idiot” you pointed out, not being able to keep your laugh from coming out when he childishly poked your side in response. “They are so not gonna let us live it down once we get there”.

“This is the first time we get to be actually outside together though, and we’re only like three minutes away from the dorms” his fingers tugged at the sides of your jacket to pull you closer. “They won’t mind”.

However, as if on cue, the phone in his pocket started buzzing like crazy, letting you both know that was not the case at all, and causing your triumphant eyes to fix on his defeated ones.

“How much you wanna bet it’s Jimin” you raised one of your eyebrows.

“Come on,” Hoseok chuckled, intertwining his fingers with your so the two of you could make your way back to the car for once and for all. “We know it’s Jimin”.

tag list: @lets-keepit100 @aquietkerfuffle @hobicomeholla29 @sakura-uji @brinnalaine @thefickive @zxlla @dreamcatcherjiah @booklover240 @luneseok @randomkoalablog @seokssbagel @thestral-balerion @unadulteratedlyunique @pikapikaachuu @salty-for-suga @biaisezabini @extaevaganza @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @hanniiesuckle17 @btsxdoll @cvbachacbitch @dearest-sunshine @tirednation @shakes0peare @llovekoya @re-sugance @veonjun @yeontanie21 @notinmycomfortzone @slxtfortae @cherryjiminiee @creepysweet @hobi-love @betysotelo18 @zaryas @kpopgirlbtssvt @bubblegumcat229 @mygscafe @uxwi @lovelymultiwrites @rjsmochii @margaritafariasw @moccahobi @lidda @seoulgotmysoul @sunskook @jayhope88 @magicshop-myg @longlivebnc

#bts #bts imagines #jung hoseok #hoseok imagines #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #bts fake texts #hoseok fake texts #bts social media au #hoseok social media au #bts x reader #jung hoseok reader #bts hoseok #hoseok

914 notes · View notes

bibliocratic · 3 years

Note

Do you think you might ever follow up that forking paths fic chapter where the two jons talk? Like after our jon leaves, id love to hear your take on how younger jon reacts when martin gets back from (what he now knows, thanks to our jon explaining) that trip to visit his mom. How do you think that jon goes about approaching martin, bc its def clear that our jons words really stick with him

Anon, I loved your prompt, and I’ve thought about it often.

No CWs apply. Set in an alternative series 2, pre JonMartin

This is related to a time-travel AU where both the ‘original universe’ Jon and Martin have visited alternative versions of the archives. There’s no major spoilers for that story, although if you’d like to have a read, it’s here. :)

Coat slumped onto its hanger by the front door. Keys jangling in a lumpen heap. He checks, then double checks the bolt lock, the latch, the door chain, and then toes a door wedge harshly in place for good measure.

Martin puts down his overnight bag, fat with clothes that need going in the wash.

A signal failure at Yeovil Junction, stretching a three-and-a-half-hour journey back from Devon by over an hour. There had been a motley gaggle of the rowdy and the drunk on the Victoria line, and they’d squawked and cheered at the inanity of nothing, their laughing getting louder. He had avoided eye contact, felt his headache building.

Back in his flat, he takes two paracetamol and sits down, feeling like the final pieces of a cliff-face, falling seaward.

A breath out. A breath in.

Sleep is slow to come, and he wakes more than once. Eventually, he just waits for his alarm to go off.

He can’t find an ironed shirt, so he wears a jacket to cover up the worst of the crinkles. He’s on time, but he still frets as he stands, compressed by strangers on the Tube.

The main office area is quiet when he comes in. Martin clicks on the light switch, with a heavy feeling of experiencing the entire weight of the upcoming week at once, then goes into the small staff room to make himself a tea.

Jon’s there when he gets back. Stood by his desk.

“Oh! Hi,” Martin says. The tea sloshes ominously as he jumps, but it doesn’t spill. “Didn’t - didn’t see you there.”

“Martin!” Jon says. Looking and sounding, rather unusually, like he’s slept more than his rationing of three or four hours nightly. “You’re – you’re back. Good. That’s. That’s good.”

“Oh. Er. Yeah.” Martin puts his tea down on a coaster. Jon skitters back to give him space but he’s still close. The bags under his eyes lighter. “Back to the old, er, grindstone, I guess.”

Martin trails off weakly. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Jon’s company, but it’s early, and Martin hasn’t stored up reserves to be his friendliest just yet, nor to navigate whatever mood Jon might have been stewing in. He’s half waiting for Jon to just tell him what work he wants him to be getting on with.

He wonders where Tim and Sasha are.

Jon, no better word for it, lingers. Weight shifted from one foot to another. He looks over Martin intently, and Martin’s face heats to think of what he probably sees; un-ironed shirt, scruffy shoes. He shaved this morning in a rush, and he’s likely missed a few bristles under his throat, down his jawline.

“How… How was your trip?”

“Um. Yeah. Ok,” Martin lies. “You know. Nice to get a few days away.”

Jon hums, opens his mouth to say something, and then shuts it. Then: “I’m… I’m going to Costas.”

“Oh. Ok. That’s fine.”

“Would you like anything?”

Martin’s small smile bursts onto his face like breaking the surface of a wave, and he’s surprised, by how touched he feels at Jon’s gesture.

Jon reflects his expression for a moment with a similar smile, before it’s quickly schooled into blankness.

“No. But thanks, Jon.”

“Ok.”

Jon makes no move to leave.

“Come with me?” he asks. He’s fiddling with his shirt cuffs, the ring on his finger. “It’s not far, and… I would like you to. If you, er. If you want to.”

Martin nods, and doesn’t understand the relief on Jon’s face.

Jon’s pace is clipped, brisk with speed, and Martin hurries after him, feeling a little bit like a satellite orbiting a force of gravity. By the time they get to the café, it’s the dregs of the morning rush in a small queue that trails limply from the counter around past the coolers stocking juices and sandwiches. Martin offers to get them a table, but Jon makes some flat-footed excuse about needing help to carry the tray while he pretends to peer at the overhead menus with far greater attention than they necessarily deserve. So, Martin waits with him. Listening to the whistling rush of the steamer and the juddering grind of the large silver coffee machine behind the counter. One of the baristas shouts to get the attention of a customer wearing headphones.

Jon won’t hear a word for Martin paying, waving him off impatiently in a distracted, short way that is followed up by a pause, and then a deliberately politer comment about how Martin can get the next one. It’s such a seesaw of tones that Martin’s left a little at sea by it all. Mumbling a thank you, jumbled and lost with the way this morning is going, the buoy lines and anchor points shifted since he went away.

Jon’s face reads similar.

They sit down at a four-seater table, Martin insisting on being allowed to carry the tray, if only to give himself something to do. Jon makes a protracted faff of adding sugar to his tea, drip-feeding it milk until it reaches an acceptable shade while Martin’s fingertips prickle with heat as his hands make flood barriers around his own cup.

“What’s this about, Jon?” he finds it within himself to eventually blurt out.

Jon looks up from his cup. Glances away almost as fast. He manages to balance a fine line between guilty and defiant with only the set of his jaw.

Ah. It’s going to be one of those talks then.

Some sheltered, tentatively uncrumpling part of Martin had hoped that they were past this.

He might as well jump straight to it.

“If this is your idea of some… I dunno, public place where you feel you can accuse me of being a murderer again – ”

“What?! It’s – ”

“ – I know you’re going through a lot, I get it, I do, a-a-and I am trying to understand – ”

“It’s not – ”

“ – I-I thought we were past this, I thought you trusted me, at least not to murder you in your sleep, for God’s sake – ”

“I… It’s not, Martin.” Jon’s hands are held up, palms outwards. “I promise. I. I trust you. It’s not about anything like that.”

Martin’s hands unclench slightly from around his teacup. Jon’s expression bares the singular marks of a man struggling between emotion and ingrained habit.

Finally, nearly glowering, he stares into his own tea, rather than at Martin.

“Tim and Sasha will be here soon. I’ve texted them, told them to come here, not into the Archives.”

“What, why…?”

“There is every chance we may be overheard there, and – ”

“Not this again – ”

“Martin.” There is nothing harsh in Jon’s rebuke, for all it is phrased as a curt interruption. He huffs an irritated breath and meets Martin’s eye almost defiantly. It loosens into regret. “I know that I have… have not exactly given you much reason to take me on faith. And my behaviour these past… I suspect I owe you my apologies for a multitude of minor indignities that you have neither warranted nor deserved, and I am sure that if we had more time, we could both sit here listening my faults and failings to our mutual satisfaction. But the fact is that we don’t have time, and at the moment, my request for your patience and attention is far more important than my desire for your forgiveness.”

Jon’s sincerity is straight-forward, clean-edged.

“Tell me then,” Martin replies.

“Something happened, while you were visiting your mum.”

“How did you know I was – ?” Martin starts, but Jon waves a restless hand as though eager to move on to other matters, to which Martin’s temper rises because oh no you don’t, and he snaps: “Have you been following me?”

It was clearly not what Jon was expecting him to say. His face, scrunched up with impatience, slackens into a mild panic.

“No!” he says. “No, I. I haven’t. I swear, Martin, I haven’t.”

“Then how do you know about my mum?”

“I can explain, a-and I will. But let me finish, please?”

Martin nods. It is not fear that is starting to itch under his jacket, but it bears a family resemblance.

“We had a visitor,” Jon says. From his coat pocket, he pulls out two cassette tapes, like the ones they use for the difficult statements. “Two, actually. While you were away. We can listen to them both, later… and you should. You have a right to. They’re about you, a-and me – um, us. Tim and Sasha were here when the – er, the statement givers delivered them, and I’ve already filled them in on the supplementary information that we didn’t get on tape. I haven’t… I’m not asking you to trust me, or even believe me straight away, but there’s… Martin, there’s something dangerous at the Institute. Something that means all of us harm, and these tapes – ” He taps on them with a nail. “ – they’re a warning. About what our future might entail. And I… I firmly believe that together, all of us, we can stop it.”

Jon winds down like an exhausted clock, and he slumps, his gaze dragged away from Martin’s as though he’s suddenly embarrassed by his outburst.

Martin lets out a long, billowing sigh.

“OK,” he says.

Jon looks up.

“Ok?”

“I don’t – I don’t even begin to understand what’s going on here. But I believe you. Though God knows why.”

Almost furtively, Jon’s face fractures into one of those small, surface-breaking smiles again.

“Thank you, Martin. I – I appreciate that.”

Martin’s blood vessels at that moment traitorously decide to flush his face with heat. He clears his throat.

“Right,” he says. “Right, so, these are the – the warnings, yeah?”

“I’ve brought headphones if you want to listen.”

“Which one should I…” Martin begins, but his voice sputters silent in his throat as he reads the labelling down the sides, printed in Jon’s aggressively neat hand.

Case #0160920: Statement of Martin Blackwood, for the attention of Jonathan Sims. Case #0160921: Statement of Jonathan Sims, for one Martin Blackwood.

“I didn’t record any – ”

“No. You didn’t.” Jon’s expression is steady if wary. “And neither did I.”

“S-so this statement here, that’s – that’s – and that means that your one there, that’s – ”

“Yes.”

“Fuck me.”

He meets Jon’s eyes. Lets out another, decidedly less steady breath.

Jon promised to explain. Jon promised answers.

And Martin can trust that right now. It’s easier, somehow, with Jon looking at him like he won’t let him get lost.

“This one first?” he says, pointing at the tape that another Martin Blackwood has made.

Jon nods, and passes Martin the headphones.

And in a coffee shop on the Southbank, Jon’s gaze not breaking from him, Martin listens to the story of how the world ends.

#tma #the magnus archives #fic #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #no cws apply

84 notes · View notes

minijenn · 3 years

Text

Keys to the Kingdom Preview

In which Sora realizes you need money to exchange for goods and services and also realizes that he’s got none of that bc the Duck and Dog Dads never let him carry any of their cash around. Also the child is starving. Fun!

***

The third night is the first he goes to sleep hungry.

Sora leaves that first world not long into the next day, largely for one very simple, yet very important reason. He can’t find a single source of water anywhere, something that soon starts to become a problem when, after only a few hours of wandering under the relentless sun, his rising thirst slowly starts to turn into the first signs of dehydration. He’s already feeling weak and lightheaded when he caves to summon a dark corridor; and, as he’s quickly starting to get used to, he feels even worse after he crosses through it.

He still doesn’t know how to control where his dark portals lead to, not that the destination really matters as long as it's as far away from either the lights or the Organization as possible. Fortunately, the first thing he sees as soon as he collapses out of the corridor is a river, rushing clear and cool just a few feet away from him. He nearly falls into it, desperately swallowing several mouthfuls of water until he ends up inevitably choking on it. His stomach settles rather quickly this time around, but he’s left with a lingering headache from the short trip through the shadows. He does what he can to ignore it as he splashes some river water onto his face, washing off the thin layer of dust and dirt he hadn’t even realized accumulated on it back in the canyon.

Upon taking a cursory glance at the rest of his surroundings, he finds the river is bordered by dense trees on either side of it, woods that are more comparable to a jungle than a forest. The air is hot here, but different than it had been in the last world, much more humid and bearable as a symphony of wild sounds sing out from the surrounding trees. But what catches Sora’s attention the most is something he can see from his spot on the riverbank, resting downstream just a short distance away: a village.

It’s a relatively tiny town, composed of a collection of simple huts and houses that are by most accounts, largely primitive. Still, Sora heads straight for it as soon as he sees it, knowing that where there’s a town, there’s bound to be something else he’s in need of if his rumbling stomach is anything to go off of: food.

Despite its small size, the village is quite populous, filled with midday hustle and bustle of its humbly-dressed residents going about their usual business. Most of them barely notice Sora as he unceremoniously walks into town, though a few do spare him odd or curious glances as they pass him by. To not arouse any unwanted suspicion or alarm, he keeps his hands tucked into his pockets, his claws out of sight and his head down as he strolls into what appears to be an open air market of sorts. Several stalls have set up shop, pedaling a variety of goods and foods, from fruit to meat to herbs and more. Out of all this, the appetizing scent of freshly baked bread is what draws Sora over to one certain stall, one selling all sorts of loafs, biscuits, and even a handful of cakes. He eyes the impressive display hungrily before picking out a few delectable-looking rolls, as well as a few small, fruit-topped tarts for good measure. He’s still going through the stall’s stock, however, when its owner finally speaks up from her spot on the other side of it.

“Your eyes certainly seem to be overloading your stomach, boy,” the older woman remarks, her face and tone both quite grouchy and detached. “That doesn’t matter much to me though, as long as you can pay for that stash you’re piling up there. You can afford all that, can’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Sora nods, shifting his potential purchases to rest on one arm. He searches his pockets, checking his jacket first and then his pants, only to quickly reach a very startling discovery: he doesn’t have any money on him to speak of.

Before, he’d never really needed to carry money on him. Between the three of them, that had usually been Donald’s job, a job he’d taken away from Sora relatively on into their first adventure together, claiming that he wasn’t “responsible” enough to handle their funds. Sora had playfully brushed the comment off at the time, and over the years, had largely gotten used to either Donald or Goofy keeping track of any money they obtained and what supplies they spent it on in his stead. Only now that he’s on his own without a single cent to his name that he wishes the pair had trusted him just a bit more, at least enough to carry a little of their money around, just in case.

“Um… so… this is pretty funny, I’m sure you’ll get a good laugh out of it,” he begins, throwing on the most charming, pleading smile he can manage. “But... I don’t really have any money…” he hesitantly tells the shop owner, looking between her and the bread in his arms. “You… don’t happen to give out free samples, do you?” The shopkeeper only responds to his small, hopeful smile with a cross, deadpan look, one that gives Sora an answer that’s every bit as clear as words would have been. “Right…” he sighs in defeat, putting every piece of food right back where he found it. “Didn’t think so…”

He sullenly stuffs his hands back into his pockets as he walks away, trying not to steal a glance at any of the other surrounding food stalls, lest his unsatisfied hunger only continue to rise. He nearly makes it out of the market altogether before spots something he’s hard pressed to pass up: a stall selling several different types of fruit. Among them is his favorite by far, a treat he’d always enjoyed snacking on back on the islands: mangoes. The stall doesn’t carry many of them, in fact its entire stock seems to be rather small and largely unimpressive, but one is really all Sora wants right now. After all, something, even if it's something as small as a simple mango, is bound to suffice after three days of eating basically nothing at all.

It’d be easy enough to just take one too. The stall’s owner has their back turned, preoccupied with going through the rest of what they have to put out. All he’d have to do is swiftly pass by, pick one up, and shove it into his pocket without anyone seeing. He’s not very keen on the idea of stealing, especially after how much trouble the unsavory act had gotten him into back in Agrabah. But there, he’d stolen a priceless, magical treasure; here, the only thing he intends on making off with is a single, largely inconsequential piece of fruit. And given just how hungry he’s starting to get, how bad could taking just one really be?

He nearly moves in to do exactly that, though stops short only a few feet away from the stall as a small child, no older than 6, suddenly runs out from behind it. “Papa! Papa!” the boy calls, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the edge of the stall. “Can I have one of the mangos? Please?”

The shopkeeper turns, a kindly-looking man, though his eyes are tired as he looks down at his young child. “Oh, I’m sorry, son,” he frowns, shaking his head. “But those are the last few we have. You know the harvest wasn’t good this year, and if we don’t sell those, we won’t have enough to get the materials your Mama needs to make you new clothes.” The shopkeeper smiles a bit as he steps out to hoist his son up into his arms, affectionately ruffling his hair. “You’re growing so fast that it’s getting hard for us to keep up with you.”

The child laughs as his father carries him back behind the stall, his former request for food all but forgotten by now. Neither of them notice that their warm exchange had been watched from afar, and as soon as it's over, Sora instantly feels guilty for even considering the thought of stealing from them. Of taking something from a family that clearly needs it to survive, simply for his own selfish, singular needs. He hangs his head in shame as he briskly walks past the stall, not even sparing it a second thought as he starkly leaves the village behind entirely.

He finds a place to sleep not too far outside of town, in a well-shaded nook at the near edge of the jungle. It rains that night, and he largely doesn’t sleep, even though he manages to stay relatively dry thanks to the thick canopy of trees overhead. Because the entire night, the most he can really do is lie there, his arms wrapped around his empty, aching stomach, silently pleading for some kind of relief from the starvation he doesn’t know how to stop. Eventually, he somehow falls asleep, dreaming of all of the delicious dishes his mother used to masterfully make for him back home, from freshly steamed salmon, to sweet pineapple cake, to savory vegetable soup. Only to wake up the next morning, still longing for food, longing for his mother, longing for home.

All while knowing painfully well that he won’t get to see any of those things any time soon.

#decided to give ya'll a nice long preview #enjoyyyyyyyy #enjoy a child struggling to survive on his own and not doing a great job of it #poor kid #jen writes #keys to the kingdom #keys preview

9 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Out from the cold (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn (precious baby) needs your comfort, and oddly, looking after him comforts you too. Fluff but a lil angst to get to the comfort.

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (Dunno how many I can do but gonna try and blitz a few requests out tonight. I’m doing these quickly so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) ALSO THIS IS EXCITING I’VE NEVER WRITTEN LLEWYN BEFORE AND I’M KINDA HAPPY WITH IT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? (I love this movie so much, one of my all-time favourites, and one of my fave Oscar performances.)

Warnings: just Llewyn swearing, as per. Alcohol and cigs. No drunkeness. Mentions of homeessness / couch-surfing. Mention of abortion.

GIF by @digginmovies

It’s late when he shows up at your door. Or rather, it’s late when you find him in your hallway. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, because he didn’t even knock. Perhaps he was too afraid to, but by the time you eventually stopped pacing your floorboards and threw a scarf around you, you’d come to fear the worst; that he’d been beaten and left in a gutter or some doorway, or perhpas that he was just stubbornly wandering the streets, preferring to freeze to death rather than “bother” you. Or worse than that... perhaps he’d finally struck lucky and you’d never see him again. Now that he no longer needed your couch, maybe he no longer needed you.

Anyway, all of your fears were entirely unfounded, and it was a shock to find him there, leaning up against the wall. The shortest missing person recovery mission ever known.

“Llewyn?” you question, sighing in frustration and unwrapping your suddenly suffocating red scarf.

His whole body is an apology as he turns his head towards you. Eyes apologetic. Shoulders apologetic. That sorry cord jacket is very, very sorry indeed. Hell, even his curls slump over his forehead in a despondent way, as if they’ve given up too.

This precious man. Why doesn’t he know how special he is? Why does he always dwell in the shadows, rather than allowing himself to be welcomed into this warm, light-bathed apartment of yours. Why doesn’t he realise that he is a light himself, and not a burden? That his presence alone can furnish and illuminate any room. Can compel audiences and, certainly, can move you to train your eyes on him as if he is a star under a perpetual spotlight.

Well, you suppose you should just be thankful that he’s here at all, because he always seems an instant away from slipping into shadow and never coming out again. You are thankful. You are always thankful to find him on your doorstep.

“How did it go?” you ask him, and Llewyn pushes himself up from the wall, despondently shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and simply stands there as if forgetting any purpose which might cause him to move. You have to shuffle forwards yourself to give him the hug you feel he so desperately needs, even if he doesn’t know he deserves it. You wrap you arms around him, and it’s a little awkward, and he’s stiff, and he feels of wool and cord beneath your fingertips. Smells of frost and cigarette smoke, and like he hasn’t managed to run his clothes through the laundry in a few days. You make a note to do that for him, if you can coax him into a warm bath later.

“Can I please stay with you?” Llewyn asks in a small voice.

You don’t let go of him, willing him to soften against you.

“Llewyn, you dont have to ask me that, you live here.” You say it like it’s obvious, yet this simple fact is something you are endlessly trying to convince him of.

“I sleep on your couch, because I have no fucking money. Because I’m a piece of shit musician who can’t book a gig except for the Gaslight. And that’s only because I knocked-up a chick who gets me a slot out of pity some nights because she aborted my baby.”

“Llewyn!” you say, heartbroken and disbelieving that he could talk about himself in such a way, and looking, in your shock, like you might come for a piece of him too for thinking so little of himself. But, the world keeps kicking this poor man when he’s down, and he’s running out of energy to keep getting back up, so there’s something in you which can’t blame him.

“I’m just tired. I’m just so fuckin’ tired.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, that thick, soft beard under your fingertips.

“Llewyn,” you say softly, searching his melancholy eyes. You want to tell him how talented he is, how important. How special, like you have a hundred times before, but he won’t beleive you. Never does. So, instead, you try something you never have before. At least, not while sober. You dip forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away before his lips have time to react, though even if you had lingered, you’re not sure he would have. You swear that man is so touch-starved that he can no longer recognise affection. That he can no longer remember how to move his lips against another’s. You swear he’s too down on himself that he doesn’t remember how to respond to being wanted.

“Come inside. Your lips are like ice,” you say, and it’s true. You only wish you could thaw him.

Llewyn picks up his guitar case and finally follows you inside, taking his familiar spot on the couch and folding his arms around himself, not even taking off his scarf or jacket. Sometimes you worry that his chill goes all the way down to his bones. Just incase it can help with that, you make him some warm tea and wordlessly pass the mug to him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward in his seat as you sit at the other end of the couch from him, watching him gripping the warm beverage in his fingerless gloves like he’s never known a warm touch like it.

You sit quietly next to him and allow him to thaw a little, watching the steam rising from the mug as he takes careful sips. It has begun to lash with rain outside, the percussive sound and howl of wind muffled against the window pane, and pleasantly soothing. At least, it sounds soothing to you; Llewyn probably thinks it’s that dark cloud following him around again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Waffles. Had some Gaslight money left,” he says in monotone, staring intently at a particular spot on your hardwood floor. He didn’t make nutritionally sound choices, it seems, but at least he’s had something.

“Good,” you nod. “And do you want to talk about the audition?”

“Nope,” Llewyn responds dejectedly, popping the “p” emphatically.

When he’s drained the cup he sets it down, eventually unwinding his scarf from around his neck and shuffling off his gloves and jacket. Without all his layers he looks a little like a lost baby bird without its nest, or like a winter tree without it’s covering of leaves.

You take a risk in an attempt to perk him up and head towards the vinyl player, dropping the needle on a record you know he likes. And then, you reseat yourself on the couch, a little closer to him this time.

Llewyn finally turns to you, elbows resting on his thighs, looking just a little less morose. “Got any wine? And cigarettes?”

Now, that you could do.

You oblige him, and before long you are sipping on a glass of red, and you let Llewyn rant freely about the audition he doesn’t want to talk about at his leisure, a cigarette bobbing in-between his lips as he talks, smoke wafting around his face and his hair like the ghost of his own curls. You let him rant about the cookie-cutter, soulless, talentless musicians who make it, and the blood-sucking label execs, and the tasteless consumers, and the whole damn thing, until his shoulders look a little less heavy. A little less apologetic. Until he forgets himself and picks up his guitar and begins to mindlessly pluck and strum away.

He starts to sing under his breath, because he can’t help but sing. Because it comes naturally to him, and suddenly he is the only light in your living room. He is under his own super trouper, against the backdrop of the rainy window pane. Light shining against melancholy.

As lovely as he is to look at, with the way his left cheek tugs up with his words and his brow creases with feeling, you close your eyes as his voice filters through into your bones, making you warm from within.

“I love it when you sing,” you say sincerely, and you don’t know it, but your simple, honest words are music to Llewyn’s ears. Those words are something he hears startingly seldom for a man with a talent like his.

Your eyes are still closed when you hear the chaotic thrum of strings as Llewyn sets the guitar down. Your eyes are still closed as Llewyn kneels before you and slides his hands along your thighs, palms down. Your eyes open just before he dips his head and presses a chaste, smoky kiss to your lips.

Your lips do not react. If Llewyn was too touch-starved to kiss you back earlier, you suppose you are too surprised that he might want you back. You want to kiss him, and apparently he wants to kiss you, but you are singing different bars of the same song. Your timing is all off. So, your lips do not meld with his, no matter how long you’ve waited for this. Wanted it. This time too, his mouth was even warm against yours. His hands warm against you. Thawing.

You smile at him, softly. Catiously. As if you might scare him off. As if he is a wild animal who has dropped to his knees for you.

Instead, he remains as you bring your hands back to either side of his face, and lose yourself in his dark, turbulent stare. It is you who suddenly feels catious, as if he is a storm which might swallow you. Might paint you in licks of grey if you don’t first heal his pain. His eyes are raw. Broken apart, and his beautiful soul so exposed beneath them. No wonder he is so guarded. Feels so vulnerable. His heart is so open and so wounded beneath the expletives and the apathy and the lucklessness, isn’t it? It would be so easy to break, like a lost bird far from its nest.

But this time, he stays. Llewyn simply looks right back into your eyes, for once. And when he undoubtedly notices your evident desire there, all he does is question why you are looking at him at all.

“Why do you want me?” he asks you, plainly, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t say more, but you swear you could guess his thought. You could have any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or a Chad. Some rich, muscly dude with a centre part and a Corvette. I’m nothing. Nobody.

Your mouth forms a bashful, thin line, and you shrug your shoulders, placing your hands over his palms. You desperately want to show him he is somebody.

“I dunno. Why do you sing, Llewyn? Why do birds make music? I just do. I want you. My soul tells me I should, and I listen.”

He looks sad. So sad, So tired, and so you do the only thing your soul tells you to in this moment. You comfort him. You reach up and tangle your fingers into that mess of crotchet black curls on his head. You stroke him and soothe him, and he gives in to you, burying his head in your lap and letting you touch him. Letting you smooth your hands and your fingers and thumbs over his hair, his neck, his back, his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your lower legs and curls around them, still sat at your feet like a stray who refuses to be a house cat, despite how many times you try to coax him in from out of the cold.

“Llewyn, come lie with me a while?” you ask gently, and he looks up at you, unsure. Still, he clambers up from his position and is about to recline on the sofa when you grab his hand. “No, Llewyn. Come lie with me in my bed?”

He gulps, as if you might eat him alive, but he follows as you guide him as if it might be a relief to climb into your jaws anyway, and you lead him by the hand along the hallway and into your room.

He watches you with hesitant fascination as you shrug off your layers, down to your underwear. Then, he follows suit, letting his worn trousers and white t-shirt pool on to the floor at his feet, until he’s standing in only his patterned boxers.

You climb under the covers, shivering at the autumn chill in the room, and you hold the tented covers open for Llewyn to climb in after you.

“Y-You want me to... W-what do you wanna do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you’ll let me, I just want to hold you.”

He hesitates, but he’s cold, and so, so alone, and he’s so tired of never having anything he wants. So tired that he’s willing to forget, just this once, that he can’t give you what you deserve. Or at least to stop consciously reminding himself of it.

He slots his soft, slim body under the covers, and you let the blanket fall over him. Then, you lie on your back and pull him on top of you, until his body covers yours and his head nestles on the cushion of your breasts.

It is quiet enough in the room that you hear him gulp again, but he doesn’t bolt. Once he’s settled, your wrap him in your arms, your fingers twining in his hair, carding through those thick, tangled curls. Your hands smooth up and down his back, until he is humming softly, his face entirely buried in your chest. “Sweet man,” you soothe, and listen to the sound of the rain outside, and the background noise of the record player filtering through. “I know it’s not much, but I love it when you sing. I wish I could give you riches for it, and record deals. But all I have to give in return is a little piece of my heart, and you steal a piece of it every time I hear your voice,” you whisper gently.

Llewyn is silent, and you wonder if you might have scared him off, but he seems quite content exactly where he is. You wish he would stay, but you know he has a cycle of houses, like a traitourous street cat with nowhere he feels deserving to call home.

For now though, he is here, and you begin to sing gently along to the song filtering through from the living room. It’s one of your favourites. One which Llewyn has sung for you many times before.

You look down at the side of his face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek, and his beard twitching as his full lips tug up into a faint smile. Finally.

“You have a pretty voice, dove,” he says, and your heart clenches at the pet name. At the fact you have finally found a way to make him happy. You should have realised it would be music.

“No, Llewyn. It’s nothing compared to you.”

“I dunno. You probably have more chance of making it than I do. Maybe you should have gone today instead.” You worry that he has been tugged back into a slump, but you see he is still smiling, and you recognise the humour in his tone, self-deprecating though it is.

By the next chorus, Llewyn begins to softly sing along too, and your heart flutters as his voice vibrates against your bosom.

You tug in a deep, happy breath, and exhale spring into the autumn room.

Llewyn props himself on to his elbows and shuffles up the bed, until his face is level with your own.

You regard him catiously, feeling suddenly as flighty as he usually is.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, as his lips hover close to yours.

“Nothin’ you don’t want to,” he says, mirroring your words from moments ago.

This time, when your lips meet, softly, neither of you are surprised. This time, your mouths are both warm and moving together, like you sing the words to a shared song, both melding in time.

As Llewyn curls around your body and snuggles into you for warmth, you hope you can get him to stay. You hope you’ve showed him he doesn’t need to wander in the cold any longer.

He has your heart after all, and you need him to bring it indoors; out from the cold.

#llewyn x reader #llewyn davis x reader #inside llewyn davis #inside llewyn davis fanfiction #llewyn davis fic #llewyn angst #llewyn fluff #coen brothers #oscar isaac

204 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 3 years

Note

uhm if you still need and want a benny boi request: hiking with him and soft sex by the fireplace to warm up 🥺 or in the tent bc it's probably pretty cold ngl

(@queenmylovely)

God you bitches get me. These prompts are wonderful and came in about 30 seconds apart lmao so i hope you like what I did with them!

warnings: smut but its like super somft and fluffy, also a lil bit of arguing

Blurb Advent: Day 16

The trip wasn’t exactly what you’d imagined it would be. Initially you’d been planning to get away during Summer, maybe head to the beach for a couple of weeks, spend your time relaxing in the sun, hitting the waves. But the timing never quite worked out and the whole idea of going away was put on hold until it had cooled down again. And of course, once it became clear the trip would be in winter, you had to stop thinking of the beach and find somewhere new to go. Luckily (you supposed) a family friend of Ben’s had a cabin in the woods that he was happy to let you use. You weren’t quite as thrilled with it as you would have been a little beach side cottage, but you really just wanted some time for you and Ben without other distractions and he wanted to get out of the city. And neither of you wanted to wait another six months for the break. So the arrangements were made and early on a Friday morning you grumbled your way out of bed and into the warmest clothes you owned, packing everything into the car, ready to head off on your holiday.

The cabin was cute, surrounded by tall trees and the promise of picturesque views. A generator had been installed a few years previous to allow access to electricity and there was a large rain tank to collect water for all the plumbing systems. You had been warned that in dryer weather you may need to seek out the nearby well to collect water for drinking and cooking. There’d been a lot of rain in the previous month so you didn’t think you’d need to worry about it but, all the same, you kept it in mind, adding a few metal water bottles to your essential supplies (which included things like food, the makings of tea and coffee, toothpaste and condoms). On top of the essentials you also made sure to pack Ben’s guitar and your travel paint set in the hopes that the seclusion and nature would inspire you both.

The first day was mostly spent getting there and unpacking. When you arrived, you had to carry all your gear up a short incline that the car couldn’t access but it was worth it when you saw the scene. It was gorgeous, the surrounding woods a little damp with fresh rainfall, the cabin looking cozy and warm and perfect for a romantic getaway. You spent the morning putting food in the fridge and poking around the cabin, getting the doors and windows open to let in some air and natural light. In the afternoon you checked out the store of firewood and decided to collect some more so that it would have time to dry out under cover before you needed it. Together, bundled up in warm coats and gloves, you walked around the immediate area, collecting any logs that looked large enough as well as smaller sticks for kindling. In the evening you made dinner together and settled in for a night on the couch, wrapped in as many blankets as you could get your hands on. Things had been so busy lately you almost didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you were taking a break from it all. But the chaos you’d been living in had meant you didn’t get much of a chance to talk to Ben properly so that was what you did. Snuggled up on the couch and talked, finally able to just be together.

The next day Ben suggested you check out the surrounding area, follow the hiking trail up the hill and see what was out there. There were practical reasons like finding the well just in case you did need it, but mostly it was just for fun. You each filled a backpack with a water bottle and some food as well as a grabbing a small first aid kit, some bug spray to combat the mosquitos you’d noticed the night before, and your paints. Ben slung his guitar over his back and you set off. The walk itself was fine though there were a few steep places on the trail. Ben used them as an excuse to hold your hand, getting a few steps higher and then offering his to help you follow. It was silly but cute and you found yourself giggling whenever he did it. It was quiet too, which was nice. You didn’t meet any other people on the trail but that meant you could stop and point out creatures that crossed your path or pause to take photos of interesting plants and pretty views you might like to paint later.

At the top of the hill was a little lookout area with a park bench. Since you seemed to have it to yourself you unpacked your bags and ate lunch looking out over the tops of the trees below. As you ate you pulled out your sketchbook and started to draw things you could see, going over some with paints and leaving others as just the outline. Ben pulled out his guitar and found a small spot to lean against a tree and play softly, his eyes closed as he plucked at the strings. It was tranquil and peaceful and perfect. Or nearly perfect. You hadn’t noticed it as much while you were walking but now that you were standing still you realised just how freezing cold it was. For a while you tried to ignore it but eventually you had to speak up.

“Benny? Are you getting cold? My fingers are starting to freeze, maybe we should think about heading back?”

Ben dropped into the seat beside you and grabbed your hands in his, “I’ll warm them up for you.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled, not mentioning how unhelpful of a suggestion it was, “But I’m serious. The walk up here took a while anyway, might be best to start heading back down now, before it starts getting dark and even colder. Plus I don’t like the look of those clouds,” you pointed to a dark patch of sky off in the distance.

Ben eyed the rainclouds and thought for a moment, “Alright, you make a good point. Let’s pack up.”

As quickly as you could you packed everything back into your bags and began to make your way back down the slope. Walking did help warm you up again though you couldn’t help but mention your need to defrost in front of the fire. And your discomfort only got worse as the rain began. The trees protected you a little but not enough and before long your teeth were chattering and your toes felt numb. Ben was just as unhappy, his hair dripping onto his face as he snapped at you to hurry up. He got particularly cranky when you paused to take a photo of the pretty haze the rain had thrown over one of the scenes you’d photographed on your way up, the roof of your cabin just visible through the trees.

“All your fucking complaining and now you want to stop to take pictures? Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, if it wasn’t for me you’d still be sitting up at the fucking lookout twiddling your thumbs.”

“You’re so fucking full of it. And slow! Could you walk a little faster please!” Ben tried to grab your hand and pull you along but you shook him off.

“It’s not my fault my feet feel like ice blocks. I didn’t even want to come out to this stupid cabin.”

“You’re the one who was practically begging for me to take you somewhere.”

“Yeah but not a fucking cabin in the middle of nowhere. This is the start of a horror film Ben. You brought me to a horror film.”

“Y’know this isn’t exactly what I wanted either. I was hoping for something a little more romantic, a little less bitching.”

“Well I think you’ve put paid to that.” You spat back, dropping your eyes to your feet so you could watch the terrain you were walking over, not wanting to slip in case Ben decided to walk ahead.

You were surprised when Ben held his hand out to you, offering his help to get down a particularly uneven patch of the path, but you took it all the same.

“Sorry,” he said softly, keeping his hand tight around yours, “I know this isn’t ideal.”

“It was lovely up until the rain,” you shrugged, “Sorry I stopped before, and that I’ve been winging so much,”

“Hey, you’re allowed to winge, especially when your idiot boyfriend gets you stuck freezing to death in the middle of nowhere,” he squeezed your hand reassuringly, “but maybe he can make it up to you when you get back to the cabin?”

“How?”

“I’m thinking we get the fire going and sit as close to it as we can until we’re warm. I can make us some hot chocolate and then maybe we whip up a curry for dinner? Something really hot.”

You chucked and nodded, “Sounds good. Can I make one request?” “What is it?” “Can we cuddle? While we’re in front of the fire?”

“The cuddling was implied. It’s the most romantic thing I can think of so of course we’re cuddling.”

“You’re not an idiot Ben. And walking in the rain is kind of romantic, especially when there’s a fire to go back to.”

Ben pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it as you walked.

By the time you got back to the cabin you were damp through, though your shoes felt completely soaked. Ben was true to his word though, peeling off his jacket and bending over the fireplace as he told you to go and get changed. You dug out clean, dry clothes, throwing Ben’s hoodie over the top. You grabbed all the blankets you could and came out to a fire coming to life as Ben hurried off to change. While he was gone you dropped the blankets on the floor, a little back from the fireplace, creating a sort of nest for the two of you.

“You stole my hoodie,” Ben pouted.

“Can’t blame me, it’s so warm and soft and I look cute in it,”

He chucked as he took his place beside you, wrapping his arms around you, “all of that is very true.”

For a while you just sat together, letting the feeling come back to your fingers and toes. Ben asked to see the photos you’d taken, pointing out scenery he thought would make nice artwork, and especially anything you could hang on the walls at home.

“I hope your sketchbook didn’t get too wet”

“I don’t think the rain got into the bags too much. What about your guitar?”

“It should be fine, it’s been in worse weather. Sorry I was short with you before,” he said quietly, his nose bumping your cheek.

You turned your head towards him, “It’s alright. I’m sorry too.”

He kissed you softly, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

You sighed against his lips and shifted to better face him, discouraging him from moving away.

Ben kissed you slowly and deeply, as if he intended to just keep kissing you all night. But gradually his hands began to wander too, fingertips lightly tracing patterns over your sides as they slipped further down. You hummed at the touch, mirroring him, trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Slowly, he inched the hem of the hoodie higher until he could pull it over your head. You didn’t mind, plenty warm from the fire and Ben’s embrace.

“This okay?” Ben asked between small kisses along the corner of your mouth, his fingers already tugging at your shirt.

“Mmhmm, very,”

He nodded and lifted your shirt over your head, keeping his arms up so you could do the same to him.

He didn’t rush, leisurely following the line of your throat with his lips, humming in response to your whimpers and mewls. You were already wet when he wriggled his hand under the band of your leggings, exacerbating your arousal as he stroked along your slit.

Once he had your pants off he rolled you onto your front, making sure you were comfortable amongst all the blankets, the heat of the fire washing over you. Gently, he hooking his fingers into the top of your underwear, pulling them down your legs, leaving soft kisses on your lower back and arse and thighs.

“Give me two seconds, babe,” he whispered, tugging his own pants off and leaning over to grab one of your backpacks.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at the noise.

“Might have thrown a couple of condoms in here, just in case.”

“In case? In case of what?”

“I don’t know. In case the view made you super horny or we wandered into a fairy ring and ended up kidnapped by pervert fairies. Just, y’know, in case.”

“You’re so stupid,” you laughed, tapping him with your foot as you lay down again, your arms folded under your head.

“I was just preparing for any eventuality.”

“Mmm well, you might want to hurry up and prepare or else I’m gonna fall asleep here. It’s very comfortable,”

“Don’t do that, hang on,” You heard Ben tear at the wrapper and then swear and then tear it again as you laughed into your arms.

“Alright, ready. You still awake,”

“Surprisingly, yes,”

“Good,” his voice was close to your ear as he lay over you, cocooning you in his warmth as he entered you from behind.

You moaned into your arm as he slowly rocked into you, his chest against your back as he braced himself on arms either side of you. There wasn’t much scope for anything fast or hard but it was intimate, his cock pressed against your g-spot so that every slight shift of his hips sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

Ben kissed your shoulder and left his lips there as he mumbled, “feel good?”

“Mmhmm, fucking incredible,”

“Mmm, you feel incredible too.”

You pushed your self up and looked around for Ben. Within seconds he was kissing you again, tongue dragging over your lips as another jolt shot though you and you gasped.

For a while you stayed like that, your movements lazy and slow. But it wasn’t enough to push you over the edge, even with Ben groaning in your ear or sucking at your pulse point.

“I need more Ben,”

“Alright, babe, if I pull out are you good to roll over?”

You nodded, catching him in another kiss to show your appreciation.

Once you were on your back, leaning on your forearms, Ben adjusted his position, his legs falling between yours as he lined himself up once more. He wasn’t much deeper but the angle was different and you felt Ben hit a spot he hadn’t reached before as he leaned over you and attached his lips to your neck again.

“Fuck, Ben,” The fire was still burning, heating your opposite side as you threw your arm around Ben, digging your nails into his back as he gave an experimental thrust.

“This better?” “Yeah. You make me feel so good,”

Ben smiled and lay you back further, so he didn’t have to hold himself up with his arms, instead allowing him to slide one hand between you to softly play with your clit.

You grasped at his back as his hips snapped against yours harder, his fingers constantly rubbing at your clit.

“C’mon, babe, you’re close aren’t you.”

You nodded again, feeling as if you’d lost the ability to form words as your back arched. Everything was warm and comfortable – the fire and the blankets and Ben’s low voice, mumbling encouragement between kisses – and before you fully comprehended it was happening, your orgasm washed over you, pulling Ben’s name from your throat. He mirrored you a few seconds later, groaning your name as he stilled, his forehead falling to meet yours.

Carefully he rolled off you and you shuffled around to lean your head on his chest, still mostly tucked up in your blanket nest.

It was quiet for a moment as you both settled, your breathing falling into sync as you watched the fire and listened to the rain that had only gotten heavier while you were wrapped up in each other.

Suddenly Ben spoke, his tone more than a little braggy, “How’s that for romantic.”

#my writing #my blurbs #smut blurb #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #cant believe you made me yearn so fucking much #but here we are #guess those canada goose pics really fucked us all up huh #ohladymoon #blurb advent 2020

60 notes · View notes

xsugarysweetsx · 4 years

Note

Can I have one where Levi's little girl got hurt somehow (got hit by a MP bc they just have to be assholes) but didnt say anything to Levi bc she didnt want to bother him. But Levi's s/o notices the mark on her cheek and tells Levi ans he just goes in rage daddy mode to snuff the mp out. Then maybe afterwards Levi cuddles with his girl and tells her she can always come to him no matter what.

:3 angry Levi for his little girl is the best. Who didn’t love overprotective Levi?

Emma was always loved from the day she was born. The day she was born, you knew what Love for a child was. It was so overwhelming, but you didn’t mind drowning in that feeling. Levi was the first to hold her and he swore, he had the entire world in his hands. She was so small and fragile and beautiful, he swore to himself he had to protect her.

He would protect you both until his last dying breath. Either way everyone knew exactly who she was and who her father was. She was so gentle in nature, she was kind and so sweet just like you. It’s hard to imagine something bad would happen...but things change sometimes.

Emma loved exploring the world, and was very eager to learn for a 7 year old. Levi let her play and run around near the training area since it was directly out his window. Always checking every now and then to make sure she was okay.

She always saw the beautiful wonders in the dangerous world. She had seen a butterfly and decided to chase it. She was having the time of hr life until she bumped into someone. She stepped back with an umph

“The hell?“ it was a military police officer

“I-I’m sorry mister“ she excused herself, he knew her manners and when she should apologize

“Damn kid getting in the way, look what you did to my pants! You got it dirty with your grubby mits“ his voice became aggressive and she froze in fear

“I-I said I was-“ she was cut off by a slap to the face, falling to the ground. She had never been hit before, ever. You and Levi always raised her without any kind of violent discipline.

“I don’t want to hear you stupid excuses! You should be begging me to forgive you“ she got up at quick as she could and tried to run but was grabbed by the arm in a tight grasp “Oh I’m not done with you“

So, she did what her father told her in this situation. Kick em in the balls! The MP fell to the ground and she made her get away. She passed near Levi’s window to see him, she waved up at him and he wave back.

Even if she was young she understood he was extremely busy, and had a lot of stress on himself. She simply sent inside to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror at the reddening mark on her cheek. It stung to touch it, the imprint of fingers on her arm and her favorite dress was dirty.

She didn’t know if it was because she was still scared, or emotional, or maybe even bot. She sat down on the ground and cried, she hugged herself trying to feel some type of comfort.

You walked down the hall but stopped as soon as you hear sniffles. You approached the bathroom door and peak inside. Your heart sank when you saw it was your daughter. You ran inside and cradled her in your arms

“Baby, sweetheart, what happened what’s wrong?!“ you were panicked not knowing what happened to her “Emma baby, look at me..” you spoke softly picking her head up. You gasp when you see the reed mark on her cheek,

“I’m okay I just fell” she lied, she never lied and you can see right through her. If you knew one thing, it was Levi and he was always able to always cooperate with her. You take her hand and notice the finger marks and dirty dress.

You open the door with tears eyes to a working Levi. He stood the second he saw how distressed you were. He came over and only getting close made him see Emma. He crouched down to her level

“What happened? You’re filthy and-“ his blood ran cold when he saw the red mark. He grew up in the underground and he knew that mark all too well.

“I-I fell daddy...” she told him. He looked up at you and saw that you didn’t believe it either. He sighed and stood up, he held his hand out to Emma who took it gladly. He led her to the couch and asked her

“Emma...did someone put their hands on you?” She wasn’t sure how to answer since she lied twice already, instead she let tears roll down her chubby cheeks. He pulled her into his chest and hushed her while he stroked her hair.

“I gotchu you now babygirl, I got ya”

That’s it, he’s going to murder someone. And yes, literally murder.

“Pony jacket” she mumbled

“What was that ?” He spoke softly to her

“The man had a pony jacket” she said more clearly. Goddamn pigs, he was completely livid. “Emma listen to me, mama is going to care for you now but I need you to know something”

She sniffles as she looked up at him

“The next time something happens, I want you to come straight to me. When you were born I swore in my life that I would protect you with my life. So come next time alright?” She nodded and he kissed her forehead. You knew exactly where he was going and you weren’t going to stop him

Later on

“DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?!” an MP soldier was scolding his friend after telling him what he had done. “1.) YOU SMACKED A CHILD 2.) ITS ACKERMAN’S KID!”

“I know I know! Damn it! Ugh, it’s not like that miget will do any damage anyway” he muttered

“Wanna test that?” Almost appearing out of no where the two soldiers cower in fear. One runs and the other is caught by Levi.

“So you’re the piece of shot that put his hands on my daughter?” A punch to the stomach make him double over “just who the hell do you think you are? She’s a little girl and you think it’s okay to put your filthy hands on her?” A kick to the head.

Out of the shadows came Hanji, of course he’d bring her. They’re the pain duo

“Since you think I’m so weak I’ve brought some back up and I’m case you’re still moving she’ll just feed you to her Titans”

Let’s just say he was dragged down into the cellar for his last night

Thank you for requesting and reading❤️❤️❤️

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman is my husband #snk x reader #snk levi #aot x reader #fanfiction #anime #anime x reader

367 notes · View notes