#this is the problem with receiving compliments my brain takes them and turns them into hate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pigeonwit · 8 months

Note

hi hi first let me just say you are absolutely my FAVORITE Javid writer and I love reading ur work while kicking my feet and giggling

and if u are still taking ideas for the cozy+content prompts could I maybe request “what’s wrong?” “your feet are cold!” with Davey having very cold hands and feet and Jack warming him up

so fun fact these two asks both gave me heart attacks when i first read them. i am not wired to receive compliments it makes me short circuit. but thank you! thank you very much!! i hope you don't mind me shoving these two asks together - i had an idea in mind for the first and the only thing i could come up with for the second was essentially along the same lines but with jack at the centre, and my jack voice is,,, not accurate imo. so i hope you enjoy it!

(also. um. i fully intended this on being a silly fluffy tumblr minific and it became 3000 words by mistake so. sorry bout that)

Davey’s already shuffling eagerly in bed when he hears Jack opening their creaky apartment door. He’s curled up in bed beneath two extra blankets with his knees up to his chest, and he’s still got a chill in his fingertips. It’s manageable, of course, but Jack gives him some much more than what’s manageable, and it’s safe to say Davey’s become a bit spoiled for it. There’s a quiet thrum of something through his body, a wash of comfort over his skin, as he hears Jack’s steps approaching. Soon, is all his sleepy mind is saying. Warm soon. Jack soon. Soon.

Jack stumbles into their room – Davey can’t help but smile into the pillow as he thinks it, their room – uncaffeinated and no doubt bone-tired, but Davey still makes out his soft and pleased hum when he sees him, huddled up under their blankets.

“Davey, darling,” Jack sighs over the slight jangling of him shucking off his jeans, “you are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Long day?” Davey mumbles, his voice muffled by the chunk of comforter he’s stuffed over his face to keep his nose from freezing. He feels more than hears Jack’s resonating groan, and he knows from reflex alone that Jack’s got his head tipped all the way back as he grumbles loudly at the ceiling, determined for the whole world to know that he is upset, thank you, and is going to make it everyone’s problem.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Jack says petulantly – Davey can hear a soft brushing of fleece on skin as he steps into his sweatpants. “Fuckin’ lecture hall was freezing, I think all my pens have turned into ink-cicles – oh, but of course old Professor Asshole-”

“Ashcombe.”

“He’s not even your professor, Dave, you don’t gotta do the teachers pet thing.” Says Jack, and Davey can hear the smile wrapped around the words. If it were anyone else, he might freeze, his brain backfiring as it turns the words over and over and over again, running through every possible implication – but he knows where he stands with Jack. They play with each other – but they don’t hurt each other.

“Anyway, the asshole kept his whole ‘no coats and jackets’ policy because apparently my phone’s wrong and it’s actually the nineteenth century or whatever the hell,” Jack continues, his voice muffling slightly as he tears his shirt over his head, “even made me take off my flannel, which is, like, hello? Since when is a flannel a jacket? Dude’s a dinosaur.”

Davey makes a small, humming laugh – he’s still all tied up in his cold-protective ball, arms and knees hugged to his chest, so it’s all he can really manage. He loves the way Jack just talks. Talks and talks like it’s his God given right to comment on every little thing, not bothering to stop for silly things like changing his clothes and climbing into bed. It’s nice, knowing Jack wants to tell him every little thing. Knowing he’ll listen if Davey does, too.

“Maybe he likes seeing all you handsome young artists without your layers on.” Davey points out, trying to lilt his voice playfully, but the slight chatter in his teeth makes it come out stilted. “One of those repressed Republican things, y’know?”

“Aw, c’mon, Davey, ew!” Jack snickers as he clambers under the covers, flopping down with all his weight like a great big cat ready for a well-deserved nap. “God, I’m gonna think that every time I see him now.”

“Another patented Davey-Brainworm.” Davey says with a smile as they shuffle towards each other without any hesitation, pulled into each-others gravity. “You can have that one for free.”

“And I guess I got what I paid for.” Jack scoffs before promptly shoving his face into the bend of Davey’s neck like he lives there – Davey sighs, bone-deep, as he arches into the warmth of Jack’s nose, his mouth, his soft breath on Davey’s skin. He unwinds his balled-up arms, wincing a little at the numbness, until he’s got them tangled through Jack’s own and wrapped around his waist, pulling him close enough that they slot against each other. Jack sighs long and slowly through his nose, nuzzling against Davey’s shoulder as he winds around him.

“Jeez-us, I needed this,” he sighs as Davey unlocks his knees and wraps them between Jack’s own. “Been so fuckin’ tense all day, like my spine’s just – fuck!”

Jack jolts upright like he’s been shocked right through the spine, tearing himself out of their comfortable cuddle-pile, and Davey can’t help his unhappy whine.

“Jesus, Dave!”

“What?” Davey blinks, suddenly very, very awake. “What’s wrong?”

“Your feet are cold!” Jack cries, as if Davey has committed the world’s greatest sin. Davey rolls his eyes and grins, pushing his toes against Jack’s calves.

“Are they?”

“God – fuck, Davey, no, you’re not being cute about this.” Jack says firmly. “Where are your socks?”

Davey feels his shoulders hunch up to his neck. This isn’t right – Jack usually loves joking around with him. But now it feels like he’s being scolded, and if there’s one thing Davey hates more than scolding, it’s being scolded by Jack. Jack’s not meant to make him feel like a child, neither of them are – it’s how they work. It’s like breaking a rule, their big rule, and it rolls in Davey’s stomach like bile.

“I don’t like socks.” Davey mutters. “They scratch. You know that.”

Jack looks like he’s about to open his mouth, then blinks for a moment, trying to meet Davey’s eyes from where they’re burning into their sheets.

“I do know that.” Jack nods slowly. “Sorry, I wasn’t – I didn’t mean…” He sighs, sliding his hand forwards enough to bump against where Davey’s fingers are tangling in the bedlinens. “Davey, you’re cold. Why didn’t you turn the heating on?”

Davey scoffs, still feeling stung, and then immediately winces, because wasn’t that a petty, childish thing to do? No wonder Jack’s frustrated.

“We don’t need it, Jack, it’s summer.” He reasons. Jack only stares at him with a flat faced and raised brow, sending a flush up high on Davey’s cheeks.

“It is barely April, Davey,” Jack says, gently this time, because gentleness comes so naturally to him. “I know you’re bad with dates and all, but that’s a pretty big difference.”

Davey’s throat clicks as he tries to work his mouth, but he’s all caught off guard by Jack being cute, damn him.

“We don’t need it.” He echoes, but even he can tell the sound is distant. He can feel the way Jack’s looking at him as he says it, and he can’t help but roll his eyes. “Oh, come on, Jack, that’s not – it’s almost May, it’s warm out-”

“It’s April sixth, forty-four degrees and raining-”

“I know how to take care of myself, Jack!” Davey snaps before he can help it. Jack flinches backwards, one hand raised up reflexively – then pauses, swallows, eyes still wide, but body less taut. Davey shifts until he’s sitting properly, head ducked low between his shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack nods slowly, still not looking at him.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Davey says firmly. “We don’t yell at each other.”

Jack sighs, eyes so painfully soft, and nudges closer until their shoulders brush together. Davey takes the olive branch like a dog with a bone, melts into Jack’s side and crushes one hand against Jack’s chest like he might disappear.

“Hey.” Jack says quietly, nudging Davey’s temple with his nose until he looks up. “Tell me things.”

Davey’s lip quirks upwards without his permission.

“Things.” He says dutifully. Jack only watches him, the way he’d watch a painting on a wall, trying to unpick the colours and untangle the strokes, trying to weave himself into the frame and figure it all out, inside and outwards.

“I just-” Davey sighs, biting down on his lip. Jack’s quiet. He lets him click the words together in his head, puzzle them out. “I don’t… I don’t need it. And I don’t like it when people tell me what to do, like I’m stupid.”

Jack makes a dissatisfied noise in his chest, curling his arm around Davey’s waist.

“You know I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“I know. M’sorry.” He mumbles into Jack’s chest, hot shame burning at his neck. “That was… Mean.”

“S’okay, baby.”

“We’re not mean to each other.”

“There’s a difference between being frustrated and being mean.” Jack says firmly. “That’s what you always tell me when I stay up ‘til 2AM painting, or when I’m tearin’ my hair out after work, or-“

“That’s different, though.”

“It’s really not.” Jack insists, and Davey’s about to disagree with him when he just barely rakes his nails along Davey’s scalp, just the way he likes, and sends him melting into Jack’s bones, the cheater. “Things ain’t different when they happen to you, babe. You’re allowed to be frustrated.” He dots a tiny kiss to Davey’s temple, holds him ever closer, presses the dorsum of his feet against Davey’s own. “You’re allowed to be warm, too.”

Davey winces, glancing towards their bedroom door where he knows the thermostat's waiting, mocking him.

“I was getting to it…” He tries weakly – Jack only raises an eyebrow.

“You get home an hour before I do. And your last class was cancelled today.”

Davey clicks his teeth. Right. Yes. Curse Jack and his intimate knowledge of Davey’s entire life. He must make a face, because Jack sighs, presses a hand to where his neck meets his jaw and tilts him upwards so that they’re looking at each other, so that all of Jack’s openness is laid out in front of him – and that’s just unfair, really, because how is Davey meant to lie when Jack’s doing that?

“C’mon, Dave,” Jack says softly, his voice low and warm, “you don’t need to do this anymore. You don’t gotta shiver in the fetal position just to get warm, you don’t gotta take showers that are, like, one notch above lukewarm and time them for seven minutes, don’t even try denying it,” he adds the second Davey opens his mouth, “you have the timer pinned on your phone.”

Davey curses under his breath. Damn his useless brain’s need for consistent organization. Jack keeps staring at him, keeps waiting for him to stay something, and Davey wants to be furious at him for it, wants him to just leave off and leave him alone and let him do what he’s always done, but… That’s not fair. Not when he’s always bugging Jack into doing better. Into sleeping on time and eating a proper lunch and warming up his wrists before he paints. They help each other. That’s what they do.

“It just…” Davey says quietly, struggling to push the words out from where they’re hiding beneath his tongue. “It’s hard. Like – at home? We couldn’t just… Do that. And it feels so – weird, a-and wrong to just do that here, when I know Aba’s still wearing long-johns to under his clothes all day and Ima’s still budgeting their hot water and-”

“Breathe.” Jack murmurs – Davey immediately sucks in a breath, suddenly realizing the way his whole body’d been straining for it without his notice. He screws his eyes shut and plants his face against Jack’s shoulder, like he might be able to hide from Jack’s gaze entirely. Jack only smiles – Davey can tell even without seeing it. He knows the little noise Jack makes when he’s smiling, even if he’s displeased, that little hum that gets tugged out from the base of his throat with the movement.

“Davey, baby,” Jack says gently – if Davey can repeat himself, your honour, unfair. “You don’t need you to freeze every night to prove that you understand the value of money. You’re good. We’re good. We can afford to put the thermostat up one night.”

Davey sighs. He knows this. Logically, he knows it. But Davey’s not the best with logic, no matter what all their friends think – it gets too tied up in all his nerves, all his thoughts, until it’s bent into something completely different. The sentiment’s still there at the heart of it, but – well, that’s just it. But. He knows he can afford to turn up the thermostat in his own home – but…

“I could deal with it.” He mumbles, a bit too childishly. “I could.”

“I know, baby.” He can feel Jack’s gentle smile in his hair. “But you don’t have to.”

“But-”

“But you don’t have to.”

Davey groans, more for the performance of it than anything else.

“Jack…” He mutters – but Jack only blinks at him expectantly. Not pushing. Just waiting. Davey tips his head back and sighs long-sufferingly, screwing his eyes shut once before turning back to glare in Jack’s direction.

Jack only blinks again.

“Will you please,” Davey says, trying to sound only a little bit irritated, but there’s no denying how quiet he sounds, barely audible even in the silence of their room. “Turn up the thermostat for me?”

Jack smiles at him gently, pushing an errant curl from his face.

“Of course, baby.”

He doesn’t let it linger – he gets up, stretches his arms over his head, snips the tension away in one neat cut, and Davey loves him for it. He leaves the door open as he hops through the living room with his feet still bare, wincing over every other step, because Jack is a man on a mission when he’s decided to cheer people up, and he simply doesn’t have the time for frivolous things like socks or slippers or common fucking sense. Davey rolls his eyes; he really does love him for it.

“Right.” Jack nods to himself as he shifts the thermostat up a good few notches, bouncing on his toes once – his Dad Bounce as Davey’s dubbed it privately in his head, because even if he’s only joking, Davey’s not quite sure they’re anywhere near bringing up the word dad yet. Still, it’s heartwarmingly cute. “That’s goin’ good. Shove up, would’ja?”

Jack bustles around their apartment like the mother hen he is, taking a spare comforter from their closet, then all the blankets he can carry, and dumps them all on the Davey-shaped lump in their bed, entirely ignoring Davey’s squeak of protest. He hurries to and from their closet, their desks, their living room, snatching every pillow and plushie and throw he can find, dumping them all unceremoniously on and around Davey’s body.

“Jack-!” Davey yelps as Jack stuffs a whole Joltik plush over his face, but he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. “What’re you doing?”

“One second!” Jack says dismissively as he fiddles with the fabrics, scrunching up the comforters into a circle around them, then filling it all in with every fucking blanket they own – Davey’s Middle Earth map, the quilt Medda made of all Jack’s childhood shirts, the weighted blanket they bought together on a whim, and the leaf-shaped throw that neither of them remember buying at all. He props all the pillows and plushes he can against the headboard, even the giant fluffy pumpkin they bought on a whim at Target because they couldn’t be bothered with pumpkin guts that Halloween – it’s bigger than both their heads and they love it – and once he’s done, he nods to himself, satisfied with his work, and all but launches himself into the nest he’s made for them.

“Oh-!” Davey huffs as Jack knocks all the air out of his chest. “God, Jack, this is ridiculous-”

“Ridiculously fun, thank you,” Jack grins as he starts bullying Davey into the little hollow between the pillows he’s fashioned for them, “now quiet, or I’m adding your beanbag.”

“Jaaack,” Davey whines, even as he allows Jack to flop firmly onto his chest like a sleepy old hound dog, pinning him into place. “We’re gonna get sweaty.”

“Then we can kick ‘em all off.” Jack answers with a self-satisfied grin. “But for now, you’re gonna warm up. Cool?”

“Technically, no.”

“I’ll kill you.” Jack huffs, and Davey can’t help but laugh into his hair. Jack’s head is resting against the crest of his sternum, a constant pressure anchoring him to the bed – and his whole body is plastered against Davey’s own, painting sunny yellows and warm oranges across his skin until he’s glowing from the inside out, safe in their little bubble of comfort.

“Jack?”

“No,” Jack grumbles into his chest. “Jack’s dead. He froze to death in class and Professor Asshole is writing him up for it.”

“Oh, shame,” Davey sighs, slathering his voice in fake-concern. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Give him, like, two hours. And a hot cocoa.”

“Mm, that is the standard procedure, I hear.”

Jack digs his chin into the hollow of Davey’s chest, glaring up at him in a manner so very wronged that Davey has to try not to laugh, lest he disturb Jack any further.

“Davey?”

“Hm?” Davey smiles innocently.

“Go to sleep.”

Davey rolls his eyes, but obediently tips his head back against the pillows, running one hand down Jack’s spine and trailing his finger over the dip in the centre.

“I was just gonna say,” he says quietly into the pleasantly toasty air of their bedroom, “thanks for taking care of me.”

There’s silence, for a moment. Soft, comfortable silence, the kind that rests pleasantly on the ear. Welcoming and unjudgmental. And then he feels a press of warm lips against his breastbone, melting through his shirt, through his skin, all the way down to his heart.

“Welcome.” Jack murmurs. “Now go to sleep before I hit you.”

Davey rolls his eyes and tucks Jack’s head into his neck, one hand rubbing tiny circles into his scalp and the other tracing poetry into the small of his back.

(They wake up swelteringly hot, sweating through their PJs, a plushie sandwiched between both their faces and half of Jack’s spoils kicked onto the floor in their sleep.

It’s okay, Davey tells himself. He’s allowed to sweat every now and then.

And when Jack looks up at him, grinning bashfully and snickering against his skin, Davey decides he’s allowed that, too.)

#all of these prompt-fics have been so frothy and fluffy and self indulgent and I! DO NOT! CARE!#(<- cares so much actually but is being so so brave about it)#newsies #uksies #(its ALWAYS uksies. i know i didn't mention it much in this one but it's ALWAYS uksies.)#javid #javey #davey jacobs #david jacobs #jack kelly #pigeon scribbles #honeyywoods #ask #anon

44 notes · View notes

sunoksunny · 1 year

Text

𝓪 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓮

ep 5 » call me an idea bank

warnings: just fluff

word count: 1.8k

author’s note: listen to the playlist for this story here!

Jungwon felt as though his heart was going to beat straight out of his chest. The loud pounding in his ears drowned out the music that was playing from the tall speakers sitting in the corner of the studio. You walked over to him easily, a careless smile spreading across your face. Jungwon wills himself to take a deep breath and returns your smile.

“Hey, Jungwon!”

“Hi, Y/n.”

He hears Heeseung snicker from the corner of the room. When Jungwon attempts to direct a glare toward Heeseung, the boy faces his partner, who was animatedly talking about god knows what, and suddenly becomes increasingly engrossed in the conversation. Letting out a sigh, Jungwon turns back to you.

“Do you wanna go to a café to brainstorm ideas?”

“Sure! I know a good one nearby.”

Jungwon smiles and lets you lead him to a small store about 5 minutes away. The cream brick exterior complimented the dark hickory sign hanging above the entrance. The inside was filled with plants and flowers of all kinds, resting on window sills and counters. A worker flashes them a kind smile and welcomes them joyfully. As the two of you arrive at the counter, Jungwon offers to pay for both of you, despite your meek protests. He orders an iced americano before stepping aside to let you order as well.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate, please.”

Jungwon raises an eyebrow at that and sees you send him a shy smile. After getting your drinks, you lead him to a small table near the back of the café, the afternoon light shining through the window beside your seats. As you tentatively blow on your steaming drink, Jungwon catches your gaze.

“Do you not like coffee?”

You lightly shake your head, hands unfurling from your cup as you set it down on the wooden table.

“I don’t. I usually just get hot chocolate at cafes, or just something sweet.”

Jungwon nods along, making a mental note in case you ever go to a café in the future. He watches as you pull out a small, light pink notepad and pen, setting them beside each other. You look up at him, grinning.

“Time to brainstorm!”

Jungwon lets an exaggerated groan fall from his mouth, his lips curling up in a smile when he hears your cheery laugh from across the table.

“The requirements say that we have to incorporate both of our specialties,” you recall, pressing the end of the pen against your lips.

“So, we have to use photography and dance,” he says. Hearing you hum in agreement, Jungwon continues, “but you take all of the dance courses, so should we just focus on one genre?”

Your gaze meets his, a shocked expression on your face.

“How did you know I take all genres?”

Jungwon stiffens, realizing he messed up. He feels heat begin to creep up his neck and his palms grow damp. He racks his brain for a suitable response, anything other than I watch you dance almost every day under the pretense of visiting my friends.

“Oh, I just heard that from Niki since you two are in all the same classes.”

You let out a noise of understanding, mumbling a “that makes sense”. Jungwon holds in his sigh of relief, worrying you might question that too.

“What if we did some kind of dance together, Jungwon?” you offer, “but I don’t know how to include photography in that.”

Jungwon giggles as an idea crosses his mind, causing you to give him a questioning smirk.

“Just hold a camera while dancing, problem solved.”

You break out into laughter, a wide grin taking over your features. Jungwon smiles at seeing your joy, watching as you attempt to stifle your giggles after receiving a few dry glances from the other customers.

“Ok ok, no camera holding. How about I take photos of you dancing and we use those as reference to paint?”

You nod your head, quickly scribbling the idea in the notepad. Halfway through your writing, you suddenly gasp and shoot your head up. Jungwon worriedly stares at you, about to ask what’s wrong when you begin excitedly talking.

“We could have two photos, one red and one blue, and have them side by side as if they are connected!”

You eagerly tell Jungwon about your idea, eyes alight with glee. Jungwon nods in agreement with a light smile, telling you to write that down. He swore his heart might burst for the second time today.

—

You let out a yawn and lean back in your seat, gulping down the rest of your hot chocolate before turning back to the boy across from you. You take the time to admire his features as he finishes his drink, taking careful sips. His pink lips purse every time he goes to drink more, and his hands would tighten their grip. Sometimes his hair would drift in front of his eyes and you could see his brows furrow through brown locks.

The two of you had decided on an idea and you were delighted that it was the one you had proposed. You felt helpful to have contributed at least that much, knowing Jungwon would have to guide you through the process of actually painting. You checked your phone, your eyes drifting through the notifications before flickering up to the time displayed in bold letters.

“Woah, it’s already 5:30. Jungwon, we’ve been here an hour!”

Jungwon’s eyes grew wide, setting down his now empty cup and grabbing his phone to confirm your words.

“An hour, already?” His eyes were comically big as they met yours and you felt a giggle slip past your lips.

“I know right? It only felt like 15 minutes, max.”

You both began to rise from your seats, walking side by side to the trashcan to throw away your empty drinks.

“I will try to find suitable outfits for the photo shoot, if I don’t have anything then I can just go buy something. I’ll send you photos and you can tell me if they work,” you told him, tossing your cup in the bin before turning towards the exit.

“Let me walk you home since it’s getting dark.”

“Are you sure? My house is kinda far.”

Jungwon gives you a kind smile and reassures you that he doesn’t mind. The light ring of the cafe’s bell bids you goodbye and the cool air envelops the both of you.

—

The two of you walk side by side, a comforting silence surrounding you. Ever so often you would peek over at Jungwon, hoping he wasn’t deterred by the cold air or the increasing time spent walking. He seemed content, a lazy smile playing on his lips and the wind brushing his hair back. His hands were tucked inside the pockets of his jacket, and his eyes caught yours with a grin.

“So,” Jungwon starts, sensing your embarrassment at having been caught staring, “why did you choose dance?”

Grateful he didn’t attempt to tease you, you happily indulge his question.

“I find it comforting. I like how I can express myself through motions instead of words. I’ve never been great with words, so I like how dancing gives me another opportunity to show who I am. It’s easier to make sense of my body than my brain.”

You look back at Jungwon, a gentle smile on his lips. His eyes seem to hold something you can only describe as adoration, and the thought makes heat crawl into your cheeks. You turn your head away from him, your own smile growing as you stare at your shoes.

“What about you? Why photography?”

You hear Jungwon let out a fond sigh and you peek your head up to look at him.

“I think that we see so many beautiful things as we live and I enjoy capturing these moments that have an impact on people. Whether it makes them feel happy, motivated, comforted, or even regretful, I think it is good to be able to feel those things. It makes you feel alive and makes you want to live. I think having those moments is important to who you are. And through photography, I can share those moments a little easier.”

Jungwon finishes with a blissful expression and you feel yourself almost becoming entranced if it weren’t for the fact that your house now stood in front of the two of you. Hearing the soft steps of your feet as you reached the front door, you turned back to face Jungwon.

“That’s actually really sweet.”

You watch with a shy smile as Jungwon’s face flushes and he shakes his head, refusing your words.

“No, no, it’s just something that I think is cool, there’s nothing super special about it.”

“But it’s special to you, right?”

Your question seems to catch him off guard and his chocolate brown eyes flutter up to yours. His mouth parts and closes as he attempts to sound out his thoughts.

“I mean, yea, but compared to you and your passion for dancing I don’t think it’s all that admirable or anything,” he manages to stutter out, his hands moving around for emphasis. You step forward and catch his hands, holding them tightly between you, letting the warmth of your skin mingle with his. His gaze watches where your hands are joined, flitting to your face when you speak.

“I think it’s really admirable that you want to encourage other people to appreciate life.”

You hold his gaze, searching for each golden fleck scattered in his irises. His cheeks turn pink and he looks back down at your hands, softly mumbling a small “thank you”. Silence stretches between you two as you watch Jungwon. You squeeze his hands once before letting go and stepping back.

“Thank you for walking me home, Jungwon, I appreciate it. I’ll text you more about the project soon, okay?”

Jungwon raises his head, face still tinted a rosy pink, and smiles. His words sound like honey as he tells you that it was no problem and that he was glad to do it. You feel warm and comfortable in his presence, and you wish you had an excuse to prolong your time with him.

“See you tomorrow, Jungwon.”

“See you, Y/n.”

With a final smile, you turn and step into your home, closing the door behind you. You bounce up the wooden stairs, skipping to your room with a giddy smile. Wondering if you could catch sight of Jungwon before he left, you poked your head through the curtains, seeing him still standing in front of your door. A light giggle erupts from your chest, finding his actions endearing. An idea pops into your head and you pull out your phone, opening his contact.

Looking back to Jungwon, you watch as he checks his phone. The rosy color on his cheeks deepens and he takes a deep breath before turning away from your front door. You watch as he carefully steps down your walkway and starts toward his own house, a smile gracing your face until he leaves your sight.

previous | masterlist | next

➥ SUMMARY: when jungwon’s 9th grade teacher suggested he visit the dance and music department to gain inspiration for their midterm photography project, “passion”, jungwon didn’t understand. after seeing you, however, jungwon suddenly couldn’t take his eyes off you. ever since then, he would visit under the pretense of seeing his friends. he couldn’t help it, you brought his inspiration back to life. what will happen when his muse is in his painting class this year and their teacher assigns them as seatmates and partners?

➥ PAIRING: photography/art student!jungwon x dance/music student!reader (she/her) | featuring: enha, ive, lesserafim, nmixx, txt, skz

➥ GENRE: fluff, slow burn, high school/art school au, slice of life, humor (i think), possibly angst?, smau + written

➥ TW: swearing, kys/kms jokes, will add specific warnings to each chapter as needed

➥ TAGLIST: open! send an ask/message me if you want to be tagged

➥ STATUS: ongoing…

TAGLIST: @lovelypitasworld @fluffy-cl0ud @nabiii-byeolll @engenelxver @yejilyz @renhaissance @neozon3nha @lynanist @starrpt2

59 notes · View notes

sleepymoppet · 2 years

Text

A Ballad with Garroth Ro’meave

Notes: And the Aphmau RP content brain rot continues

Similar with Laurance’s version, please keep in mind that these are all my own headcanons and may not be entirely accurate to the lore due to not watching all of the Aphmau RP series. There is honestly too much for me to catch up on.

Genre: Fluff

𝓖𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓡𝓸'𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓜𝓒𝓓

Picks at grass and tends to peel it when he is sitting down in a patch. Although he only does this habit when he is off duty or has no need to be on watch or on high alert of any dangers.

Garroth loves to watch people simply be people. If he sees two friends laughing and chatting over a cup of coffee, wholesome. A family having a picnic lunch, that makes him smile. Kids running around and playing, he eats that up.

Reference from the point above, simply seeing people be human makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside because it means the people he guards feel safe in his village. Garroth's proud he can help create that feeling of safety.

He has a horrible habit of picking at his fingernails when stressed. There are often scabs from how bad it gets. Garroth tends to wears gloves more in order to avoid making the scabs any worse.

Takes care of plants that climb the walls of the guard quarters. He just likes the simple vegetation. It contrasts with the unapproachable or unwelcoming atmosphere the building gives off. He thinks the vegetation makes the guard quarters a little more welcoming.

And also the plants or weeds that just chill in the cracks of the paths or stone. He likes it because it feels more lively and not so monotonous or perfect. He will only keep the weeds that grow in the cracks of stone as long as it doesn't cause any damage to the buildings/roads

When he wore his helmet a lot, he would take it off in seclusion in order to feel the rain hit his face. His helmet is not breathable at all, although very sturdy in turn, so it's refreshing to get the brush of fresh air across his face when he removes it. Along with the drops of water would feel revitalizing to him.

Garroth refuses to throw away any gift that is given to him, even if it brings bad memories. He just believes that everything holds value and importance if it was given to him. Whether it taught him a lesson, or simply makes his heart melt because someone cared enough to show him a kind gesture.

Whenever given a little gift from a villager he protects, say a small keychain or charm, he attached it to a satchel he owns, to Raven's carrier bag, or the end of his sword for good luck.

Every time he receives a gift from a girl, he ends up blushing and stumbling over his words as he tries to thank them. He is so awkward going about it. It almost always ends up being kind of cute and clumsy.

Tends to bump into objects more after an armor change. He's just not used to the size change if it's different from his original suit. Also his cape manages to latch onto like every surface that sticks out. He couldn’t even imagine the amount of times he got jerked back by his cape catching on a doorknob or tree branch.

Gets antsy when sitting in one place for too long. Turns into a pacer and walks back and forth.

𝓖𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓡𝓸'𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓜𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓽

Major golden retriever energy. He is easily excitable and very friendly. Is perfectly okay chatting with a stranger. And he is very easy to talk with as well. Has no problem being the chatty one or the listener.

If he is at a grocery store and sees someone buying something like cake mix he just starts talking, “That’s a good flavor! You should pair it with strawberry frosting. It really compliments the cake. Is the cake for anything in particular? Like a birthday party?”

Drinks respect women juice on the daily. You know Zianna, his mother, raised him very well. She wanted Garroth to be a gentleman no matter his age! She did not want any excuse for his poor behavior to boil down to “Boys will be boys”. Not on her watch! So Garroth’s manners are top notch.

He loves physical contact. Garroth often is found unintentionally touching someone who is close to him. Like putting an arm around someone's shoulder, knees touching, or brushing hands together, etc. Both for platonic or romantic relationships

Was a baby sitter as a side hustle to already working part time at a day care in high school. He's just a sucker for kids since he grew up being the eldest of three. It allows for him to unleash his inner child and just enjoy simpler times.

Garroth enjoys showing the kids how to play baseball the most since he used to play in high school and just loves the sport.

Sings in the shower and oh my god is it loud, but I mean get it I guess. It is a full on concert for him.

Enjoys older rock bands like; Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, AC / DC, etc.

Garroth has to be reminded by friends and family that it's okay to show weakness and ask for help. Being the eldest he often had all eyes on him to succeed so he has to remember that it's okay to not be perfect.

Laurance often reminds him to share his burdens so he doesn’t bottle everything up.

Becomes unreasonably attached to other people's pets since he never had his own. Absolutely will barge into a friend's house just to chill with their cat or dog. Probably where he got the whole breaking down the door thing from hehe.

A bit on the pasty side so he has to wear a lot of sunscreen. Otherwise he won't stop whining about how much his sunburn stings.

Zane always ends up sharing some of his sunscreen with Garroth if he is there with him, whether by Garroth stealing it or Zane reluctantly giving him some. Zane has some of the strongest SPF sunscreen to.

Terrible at Monopoly. He could get the greatest crutch like an entire wall of properties, and still end up losing.

#Garroth Ro'meave #Aphmau #MCD #Mystreet #Minecraft Diaries #Aphmau Garroth #Headcanons

8 notes · View notes

writing-good-vibes · 2 years

Note

i had a thought earlier (it happens sometimes) and immediately thought of you for some reason

maybe cause it's just... somewhat angsty xD

anyway, person comes through Ambrose who is really insecure, like when Bo comes to them and is nice and flirty they're like

"uh, don't gotta be nice to me out of pity or some sense of obligation" and when Bo questions that they go on saying that they know their friends are prettier and there's no way Bo would actually wanna talk to them

do Bo feels... kinda sympathetic? but not in the "usual" protective and soft-going-into-romance way

more like "hey, kinda wanna make them feel better/pretty for at least the time they still have" but still ends up killing them

like yeah he can do nice things every once in a while but that doesn't change his being at the core

alternatively (because of course my brain had to make it even darker) he does not end up just killing them but taking them to the basement cause in his mind that is the ultimate sign that he thinks they're beautiful and special and he will make them believe it

- 🔪

ahhh thank you so much for sending this 💗 !! honoured you thought of me when you had this idea 😊 (am i known for angst? love that for me). i love this idea so much, it has everything. insecurity? bo having a warped sense of what it means to be kind? a fate worse than death? impeccable. 💀

i tried my best with this, diverged slightly from your idea but i hope you enjoy !! warning for (guess what?) angst, canon-typical murder mentions, brief mention of body insecurity, some smut implications but absolutely nothing major.

hook, line and sinker (bo sinclair x reader)

"You're not much of a talker, huh?"

You turn back to the man who works at the gas station - Bo, he had so politely introduced himself - from where you'd been staring out of the window.

His brow is raised at you as he sifts through a box of fan belts, looking for the one you need. Your previous, snapped belt sits on the work bench beside him.

You'd heard this before, so you give your practised reply, a casual laugh, as you try to stifle your embarrassment, "No, not really."

"That's okay," Bo shrugs, and his voice sounds so surprisingly sincere coming from a stranger, "Neither is my brother." There's a beat before he adds, "Though, he never shuts up."

You glance away again, trying to think of a reply, but you settle on a polite smile instead.

Bo smiles back, a small sigh leaving him as he looks back down at the box of fan belts. "I don't got the one you need here, but I just got an order in so there might be some new one up at the house."

"Sure, that works for me," you agree.

"You can come on up and then I'll give you a ride back to your car?"

You didn't want to take him out of his way to fix the belt, "Oh, you - you don't have to, I could --"

"It's no problem," he insists, "Slow day anyhow. Might as well spend my time helping a pretty little thing like you out."

That surprises you, as rarely do you receive unprompted compliments. You were used to your friends getting all the attention. For a moment you don't know how to respond. You chose to ignore it, keep things strictly business, just like you're best at, "Only if you're sure."

"Sure I am," Bo's eyes gleam with something you can't quite work out. "So, what got you driving up this way anyhow, we don't get too many visitors these days."

"I'm travelling," you answer, "cross country."

"Ain't that something," Bo muses, leading the way out of the shop and locking the door behind the both of you. He turns on his heel and starts on up the road.

You follow meekly behind him. A feeling you might once have pinned at nervousness, but now feeling more like disappointment knowing that the conversation is over. What more would Bo have to say to you beyond the pleasantries he had already gifted you?

His parents had pointed out, many times, that Bo wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but they never gave him enough credit. They never looked closely enough to see the truth. Not like Bo did. Bo looked so closely he saw straight through people and out the other side.

"How many states you been through?"

You look up, a swell of hope rolls through you before you push it back down, "Only 11."

"Ol' Louisiana bein' lucky num'er 11?"

"Yeah."

"Ain't that something."

The two of you have turned off the main street, following a long gravel road that curves around the town. On your right is a huge building, it's yellowed sign reading House of Wax.

"Funny you ended up here," Bo continues, "we're barely on the map no more."

You nod half heartedly when Bo turns to look at you, still a few paces behind him.

"Since the wax museum shut down, this ain't much of a tourist trap."

"It's nice," you insist, looking around yourself some, "Quaint."

"Yeah, quaint," Bo turns around to check on you and lets out a chuckle at your comment.

You smile back, avoiding his brief gaze.

The pace of Bo's walking slows down as you reach a house, the only one along this road and the largest in town, as far as you can tell.

Bo hops up the porch steps and you hurry after him. He turns the handle and opens the front door. Unlocked. This town must be real quaint, you thought.

You're jolted from your thoughts by Bo's voice once again, "Y'know, why don't you stay a while? It's barely noon and I'm sure you got a long drive ahead, after we get your car fixed."

"Oh," you hesitated at the open door, "Oh, you don't have to do that..."

"You musn't o' been in Louisiana long," he notes, he's unbuttoning a couple more buttons of his work-shirt as he talks, and leaves his cap on the bannister, leaving his hair messy. "You don't know how bad the midday sun gets, you oughta stop for lunch, at least?"

He waves a hand for you to come in, like he's holding a palm out for an animal to sniff before it gets comfortable being petted.

"Only if you're sure, I know I'm not, you know, great company..."

He frowns at this. "You're fine company."

Stepping into the house is a relief. Bo wasn't lying about the weather, and this wasn't even going to be the worst of it.

The house is cold inside, and even with a huge bay window, the living room is draped in shadow. Light spills from the kitchen, which seems to be the only sun-trap in the house.

Bo follows the light and you follow him. The kitchen itself is cluttered, with a sink full of dishes and crumbs on the counter. "Sorry for the mess," Bo says, though he doesn't sound too guilty.

"You really don't have to do this, you know, I'm happy to just pay for that fan belt and be on my way," you try again, though you're starting to doubt you'll ever get a different response.

"Nonsense," Bo replies, pulling three clean plates from a shelf and lining them up on the counter. "Here, look at it this way, won't you give me a lil' company before you leave, and I don't have another living soul to serve for another week or two?"

Weeks? "This place is really that dead?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Well," you ponder, while Bo starts on making three sandwiches for the three plates. "It'd be rude not to stay, just for a little bit, I guess. But, you don't have to be so nice, if you don't want, I get it..."

"Get what?"

Bo thinks he knows what. Knows exactly what. He's seen people like you before, ones who didn't realise what they had because no one had bothered to tell them. Ones who thought they were an extra in a movie instead of the being in the starring role. People like you reminded him of Vincent. People like you reminded him of himself.

"I don't know, I'm just not, y'know... the kind of person that people invite to lunch," you laugh off your comment to cover up how pathetic you feel just saying it.

"I'd invite you to lunch, any day o' the week," Bo remarks, turning back to you with a plate in each hand. He gestures for you to sit and places a sandwich, cut into triangles, in front of you.

The gesture makes you smile. "Thanks, Bo."

"No problem, darlin'."

You supress another smile.

After lunch, and with a new fan belt in tow, Bo drives you back down to the station.

"You wanna come in for a second, just to sign on this receipt. You know how it is," Bo holds the passenger door open for you and you follow him, once more, into the gas station.

As you lean over the counter to sign your name where he indicated, you feel him behind you, peering over your shoulder. The warmth of his breath ghosts your hair. He isn't even touching you and you're having to put extra thought into keeping your hand from trembling else you won't be able to write.

When you finish, you turn around, but Bo doesn't move back.

"Is that - Is that all I need to do," you ask, holding the pen out to him.

"Sure is," Bo smiles, leaning one hand against the counter. He's even closer to you now.

Both you and Bo had had some revelations over lunch.

On one hand, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you had a thing for this small town mechanic. He was easy to talk to. He didn't mind leading the conversation. He was funny. He was polite. He was hot. You might just miss him when you get your fan belt fixed and leave him behind in your rear-view mirror.

On the other, far more blood-stained hand, Bo had a realisation of his own. You were lonely. Your face lit up every time he asked you a question. The way you held back when you spoke, even after he asked to hear more. The way you moved like you were in the way and all he wanted to do was shake you, tell you that you deserved everything you wanted.

But, you don't always get what you want. Though that doesn't mean Bo can't do a good deed, now and then.

He moves too quickly for you to react, lips pressing against yours in a soft but knowing kiss.

When he pulls away, you try to stammer, "You - You don't have to, just because you feel sorry for me --"

"Oh," Bo chuckles, his hand coming up to hold your jaw, thumb brushing your skin, "I feel sorry for you, sure, but ain't nothin' to do with how you look."

You don't understand his meaning, and you don't have time to figure it out either, because his lips are back on yours, a deeper kiss this time, and his hand drops to your waist.

He's good at this.

"Please," you mutter, when he finally pulls away again.

"Please?" he teases back, and his hand dips under the waistband of your jeans.

"Please!"

"Oh, darlin', look at you," he coos, stroking your cheek and you lean forward to kiss him again.

Slowly, you can feel him moving you, walking you away from the counter, but you'd be damned to let this end here. No, you wanted it all, even if he did just feel sorry for you.

All of a sudden, the heat of his lips is gone and he's hefting you over his shoulder. You laugh in surprise, until you notice where you're going. He carries you through a doorway and down a flight of stairs. Things are looking decidedly less like "a quickie in a gas station" and more like "you're being taken to some strangers basement".

"Wait, Bo. Bo, where are --" You're cut off when he kicks another door open and you're flung down into a chair.

It feels so medical, the cold metal of the chair and, when you look around, the rows of... tools that line the workbench in the corner. Oh fuck.

"Wait, Bo, Please," you try to struggle, but he's as strong as he looks. He's holding you down as he fastens heavy leather straps around your wrists. "Please, I I'm sorry! What are you - you going to do with me?"

You can feel the wetness of tears as they begin to stream down your face, into your open mouth as you plead.

"C'mon darlin', stop making this hard on yourself. Aren't you happy?"

"What?"

"This is where the pretty ones end up," Bo smiles, his eyes too playful to ever match up with his actions.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair #gets a mention heehee #ahh i love this so much #im bad at plots but your idea was excellent #gave me a lot to work with !!#i hope you enjoy !!#as soon as i read the end of your ask i knew it had to end up in the chair #slasher x reader #implied death tw #tw bo not knowing how to be normal #also !! i am working on the lester thoughts you sent !! cannot say that fic will be around soon butttt i will be around i promise !!

192 notes · View notes

odetojeons · 3 years

Text

Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request: Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn't have any problems lmfao) but I'm too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo's smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing. You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But right now you just want the ground to eat you alive and swallow you whole, because you’re standing right in front of the bed. The one bed. To which it suddenly doesn’t look big enough, not as you remember.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Well, it’s not like you have never shared a bed before, you have even had a shit ton of sex in this exact piece of mattress, but the thing is, it’s been a while since you last saw Wonwoo. His job required him to spend three months away, and this is the first time you came to his house ever since he came back two days ago.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You consider throwing yourself out of the window and into the dark, miserable night, thinks your poor heart will explode otherwise.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m not going to eat you.” Wonwoo’s voice carries over from the bathroom door, startling you into action. You jerk toward the bed, jumping on it and face flushing. You had showered before him, now dressed with one of his big shirts.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It fell all the way to your mid thigh, the size difference between the two of you making you almost drown on the fabric of his clothes. It smells nice, smells like Wonwoo, and your cheeks burn when he drinks the sight of you in with dark eyes, not even trying to hide.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Unless you want me to,” he adds, not helping your situation at all.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

BSHANDJAJSND?, your brain supplies.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Oh my god,” you admonish, yanking the blanket off the bed and just as you get in, your eyes hone in on the ink swirling up Wonwoo’s right biceps. You have seen the tattoo through the pictures he sent you before, the snake crawling up to his shoulder, head stopping at his right chest.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This is, however, the first time you’ve seen the metal bar through one of Wonwoo’s nipples — to which you already knew the existence of, but looking in person is totally different —, heat winding in the pit of your belly as you realize the snake is looking right at that same nipple. Unfortunately for your poor heart, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, hanging low on his hips, slim waist on display.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is… hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s no other way to put it despite your best efforts. He looks like one of those Greek statues, rippling muscle and hand carved abs, the cut of his jaw too sharp to be real. Your mouth waters and you can’t look away.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And Wonwoo has been changing. He always had the thin type of body, being slim and tall, but in the end of last year he started exchanging the lazy hours he spent gaming with animated workouts at the gym — something about the way he was wasting his precious time of life and he could be acquiring knowledge and being healthy instead of sitting in front of a computer for hours —, and holy fuck if the result wasn’t quite the damn view.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You draw the blanket right up to your chin, back very purposefully to Wonwoo’s side of the bed as you’re still trying to stop the mild heart attack you have going on. You don’t want to see him climbing into bed for safety purposes but that doesn’t mean your heart rate doesn’t spike up when the bed dips. When Wonwoo settles down under the same blanket, your brain very enthusiastically — and meaningfully — points out that you’re only a few centimeters away and that there’s nothing separating you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

His abs flash behind your eyes and you nearly throw the blanket off, ready to storm out of the room and sleep on the sofa instead. You let out a breath you don’t even know you’re holding when Wonwoo flicks the flight off, the room disappearing into darkness, before he turns on the red leds from under his bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You feel warm all over with the fact that he still remembers you don’t like sleeping in complete darkness.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You try not to tense too much when he drapes an arm around your waist, locking you in. Your legs tangle together as he adjusts himself better, the other arm coming behind your head to serve as a pillow. Now you’re not only dying from the closeness but as well essentially drooling over the bulge of his thick biceps.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Congratulations universe for managing to make you even more desperate.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure how long you just lie there, staring out the window, unable to fall asleep. Your brain doesn’t want to shut off, a blaring alarm of Jeon Wonwoo going off in your head.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I missed you so much,” Wonwoo says as if he read your thoughts, voice soft and filled with warmth, and you find yourself immediately melting in his arms despite your nervousness. “Thought I was going crazy without you, munchkin.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a hard squeeze in your heart. You just love so much when he calls you that.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed you too,” you admit with a smile, the tip of Wonwoo’s nose dragging through your hair as he inhales the smell of his own shampoo. “Missed your smell.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Just my smell?” Wonwoo teases with a light tone, caressing his free hand on your inner thigh. It was supposed to be a feather-like gesture, but the closeness between the two of you made your body oversensitive, and you find yourself moaning softly as your skin rocks with a shiver.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo tenses immediately when he hears the sound, hand stuttering to a stop. There’s a beat of what you call the most painful silence you ever had — your mind swirls with the thought that you just ruined the mood, face heating up uncontrollably at your own neediness —, before his fingers sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, startling you with the strength behind his grip.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Answer me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You whine louder this time, the realization of his change of tone going from fond to an irrevocable order sinking wanton deep within your lower stomach. You try to close your legs, but Wonwoo’s leg stops you where it rests right in the middle of them, dangerously close to your throbbing core. You wonder if he could feel the heat emanating from it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“N-no,” you begin, voice already shaken up. Wonwoo’s breath caresses the helix of your ear, making goosebumps surge all over your skin. “Missed y-your bed too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Is that so?” he hums, chest vibrating where it presses against your back. “What else, munchkin?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed—” your voice gets caught up in your throat when he licks your helix, teeth pulling the lobe of your ear. The soft drag of his lips all over that place is making your job difficult. “M-missed all of you, hmmm.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hums again, pleased with your answer, and leans so close to you your body gets half pinned to the bed. This way his bigger frame completely engulfs your smaller one, the difference between your sizes getting even more overwhelming now that he’s bulked up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And you’re not the only one affected by it, because as soon as Wonwoo realizes how he almost swallows you up in this position, he downright moans right by your ear.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So fucking small,” he tells you appreciatevely, voice one octave lower as his fingers presses on your inner thigh harder. “Missed touching you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a shift in Wonwoo, his leg rising up between yours and stopping centimeters away from the heat of your cunt, and you can’t hold back the shiver, wants Wonwoo to press down there. When you attempt to slide Wonwoo’s hand up and off of you so then you could turn around, you’re met with a growl instead, Wonwoo bodily pinning you to the bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and it makes you feel like you’re a prey just ready to be caught by the big, bad wolf. You whine softly at that thought, hand coming to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist reflexively.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” is your answer, like that would explain everything. Wonwoo chuckles softly, embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“When we called and I saw your face,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Suddenly, you can’t remember how to breathe, Wonwoo’s mouth on your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear. He nuzzles into the same spot, kisses lower and your heart shakes loud enough you think the neighbors might hear, hyperaware of every inch of your bodies touching.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I know I couldn’t, so I did it all from behind,” Wonwoo admits, sending your mind into a little haze. Of course he has been jerking off to the thought of you, but hearing him say it out loud has your panties getting soaked. “Sticking my dick in…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hasn’t stopped nuzzling you, in some kind of daze as he inhales your scent. There’s a hand on your hip now, holding you down, liquid heat pooling in your belly, spreading outward.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“…and fucking you mercilessly…” he continues, voice getting deeper and rougher with each word, his breath labored. “…and watching you cum endlessly… I thought I would be fine just imagining it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Won—” you start, breathless, the sound of your own voice sounding so airy leaving you embarrassed. But then finally, finally he presses his thigh into your core, your hips immediately going down to rut hard against the muscle.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fucking drenched,” Wonwoo snarls lowly when he feels the wetness of your soaked panties dirtying the fabric of his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The sound makes you writhe on the bed, fists balling in the mattress.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But seeing you, so small…” the trace of Wonwoo’s hand in your skin is light, almost like a gentle whisper as it makes a burning path up, up, up until it stops by your neck, fingers closing softly around your throat. “Makes me want to rail you, carve the shape of my big cock inside your walls.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s teeth sink into the skin just at the base of your neck. It’s hardly a bite, you know he could leave worse, but then Wonwoo laps at it afterwards, tender, surrenders you into moving your hips obscenely on his thigh. The way he says, knows his cock is big has heat licking your insides, and if it were anyone else saying the same thing you would be cringed, but there’s just something special about Jeon Wonwoo doing this that makes him look like the hottest man alive.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re addicting,” Wonwoo admits with a growl, the feeling of his touch turning possessive as he helps you ride his thigh better by a hand on your waist. “Once I get a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting more. Wanna have my way with you until you’re all mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Need seeps through your bones, body trembling as you try to scatter the air it has been knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo fits his cock in the curve of your ass.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you’re hard,” you comment, as if it’s not obvious, but it has been so long since the last time you felt his bulge pressing against you that it makes you desperate. “You’re so hard.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Who’s fault do you think it is?” Wonwoo questions, groaning when you sway your hips from side to side on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we…” you trail off, hiding your face in the pillow. “Y-you know?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Nope, you gotta be more specific,” he says with a teasing smile, and you smack him in the arm. Wonwoo laughs before his voice gets serious. “Say it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This switch of him turning on and off between a sweet boyfriend to the man who doms you never fails to give you a whiplash.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we— Can w-we fuck?” you ask shyly, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. You have no idea why you are being this shy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hmm, it depends,” Wonwoo hums like he’s considering the options. You turn to look at him, mortified, but he only laughs at your indignation. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush furiously at the question, face turning to look away as you mumble a yes, but then Wonwoo’s grabbing at your jaw and yanking your head back in place until you’re staring right in the deepness of his eyes, the intensity of them stunting you into complete silence.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he orders, leaving no room for arguments, and you nod your head quickly at that. “Out loud.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes,” you hurry to obey, watching satisfaction curl all over his face. “‘M always a good girl.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I don’t think so, munchkin,” Wonwoo grins, wicked and teasing, and you brace yourself for whatever is going to happen this night. “Sometimes you’re so desperate and impatient you can’t even wait for me before fucking yourself with those plastic toys of yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” and you’re unable to look away even when shame burns all over your body. “H-how did you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“How did I know?” your sentence morphs into a moan when Wonwoo presses his thigh so hard against you cunt it has your body jumping a little. “You think I wouldn’t feel how you’re more loose when I fucked you? You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is mercilessly dragging your hips up and down his leg, your whines sounding high and sweet in your own ears.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re oblivious even to yourself,” he tells you, tone rough as he ruts against your ass. Your heart lurches in your chest, Wonwoo’s words like a hot coal in the pit of your belly, erupting into flames. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, cunt pulsing with arousal. “Even today, the way you were staring at me…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s touch is gone. His hands leave your hips, thigh frees you from the pressure, and the warmth seems so far now. You turn, complaint already at the tip of your tongue, but Wonwoo’s faster, rougher as he manhandles you on your back and hovers over your body, caging you in with his arms.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You looked like a prey who has just been caught into the wolf’s den,” he smiles at you, wicked and cruel as he grabs your jaw and pushes your head back. “Like you wanted me to break you in until it feels like you’re in heaven.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a breath against your bare neck, his groan hitting your skin when he bites it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Or eat you up until there’s nothing left in you that doesn’t belong to me,” you’re definitely not expecting the moan that escapes Wonwoo’s mouth, so affected and deep it’s got all the hairs in your nape standing up, every fiber of your body telling you to submit. “Fuck, and it turns me on so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You make a sound out of neediness, hands reaching for Wonwoo. He goes easily, body pressing into yours as he crashes your lips together. Wonwoo kisses you like he wants to conquer you, licking into the seam of your mouth and teeth scraping at your bottom lip just so he could soothe the pain later with his tongue. Your head spins with the intensity of it, it’s messy and there’s too much spit and teeth, but that only makes it even more addicting.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But Wonwoo doesn’t kiss you enough today. He almost never does when he’s feeling like that — possessive, mean, wicked even, when he needs you to know your damn place —, wants to ebb the pleasure away when you’re starting to get hotter until it’s replaced by pure desperation and you can’t do anything else other than beg for him to give in to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

So that’s what you do, staring up at his eyes trained on you as if you’re a prey.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please,” you start, voice caught into a moan when Wonwoo’s fingers sink into your jaw and his mouth falls ajar, like the sound of you saying this particular word gives a physical stroke to his cock. ��P-please, fuck me. Wanna— Wanna belong t-to you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And that’s enough. That’s enough, that’s enough, Wonwoo wants, you want, and he’ll give that to you since he has always been a weak man for your begging. There’s a fraction of seconds that he thinks he might pass out with all the blood rushing from his head to his other head, cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Don’t know how so much eagerness fits into this little body of yours,” Wonwoo murmurs against your mouth, his hand squeezing your face. You find yourself parting your mouth open, whining, pliant and overwhelmed as Wonwoo slips his tongue in again, kissing you filthy. The scent of his familiar cologne is so sharp, surrounding you and leaving your mind dazed until all you can think is Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo. When he pulls back this time, Wonwoo pushes his thumb into your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watches you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it further into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan around it, watching Wonwoo’s every reaction, the way his breath hitches, shoulders tensing. There’s a shift on the bed, Wonwoo moving up and up and up and you can’t breathe because now the bulge pressing against the fabric of his clothes is standing proudly right in front of your face, Wonwoo almost straddling your chest. You let the realization that he’s going to fuck your mouth sink deep within your core, and try not to show how deeply affected you are by the idea.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You fail, of course, hips lifting off of the bed and falling down again, biting around the finger inside of your mouth that keeps you from taking a better look in the place you are dying to see.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“That desperate to suck me off, baby?” Wonwoo asks, and you flush, hate how you love the humiliated burn, how it makes you wetter. You’re too embarrassed to throw something back at Wonwoo, gaze dropping to his erect cock the best you can. He pushes your head back up, making you look at him instead. “Do you wanna see it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I do,” you reply, a little too fast for your own good, and it only serves for Wonwoo to laugh at your neediness. You debate if you’re as red as you think you are, the burn in your cheeks spreading all the way down to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Wonwoo’s tone is almost condescending, still playful, like he doesn’t think you can even handle the sight of his cock, and you like how it makes your cunt twitch and ache. It’s as if you enjoy the belittlement, enjoy the way Wonwoo wants you to prove yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m,” you start, swallowing, “I’m ready.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s smile is a touch dark, nearly a sneer, but his hand leaves your mouth to hook a thumb in the waistband of his pants. You nearly drool. He pulls on the fabric until his cock is free, slapping against your left cheek and smearing precum on your face. Your head spins, realising that even this part of Wonwoo’s body seemed to have grown bigger. Maybe it’s your imagination, haven’t actually seen it in real life for the past three months, but the thickness is intimidating.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The best intimidating possible.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your heart thuds in your chest, unable to look away from his cock. There’s spit collecting on your tongue, embarrassment fighting against your desire to please. Leaning forward, you suckle the tip into your mouth, making a pleased sound when you taste the salty tang of precum.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo leans back a bit, wanting to assess your face better, and the taut lines of his body contorts in an even hotter way with the new position. You moan again, staring at the piercing in Wonwoo’s nipple and the head of the inked snake looking at it, and sucks on the head, tongue pushing along the underside. Your body throbs with your own heated desire.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wrap a hand around the base, gut twisting hotly when you realise you can’t even get your fingers all the way around — no matter how many times you notice this, they all make you feel equally needy. And you’re not the only one affected by it, Wonwoo’s hips kicking forward and cock thrusting inside of your mouth, the growl he lets out going straight to your core.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” he says, breath audible enough to echo inside the room. “I will ruin you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The confession has your body arching for a few seconds, sucking hard on the tip of Wonwoo’s cock until he’s moaning at the feeling. He takes a fistful of your hair, but you push against the hold so you could take more of it into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Quit it,” Wonwoo demands, your displeased whine making his hold grow firmer. “Do as you’re told or you might not get my cock at all tonight.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He pulls you off, your pants loud and labored.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did I make myself clear?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, sir,” you add just for the teasing — but mostly because you want Wonwoo to punish you for making him lose his beloved control —, feeling pleased as you watch the clear change of expressions going on in Wonwoo’s face. His eyes darken impossibly more, eyebrows frowning and then there’s a hand on your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your mouth goes dry as soon as his fingers close around your throat, body writhing and mind going into submission mode.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Filthy little slut,” Wonwoo snarls, face suddenly close, and then he’s spitting into your open mouth and you feel like you will come very soon. You flinch, eyes shutting on reflex, and then moan. “Want me to punish you, don’t you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything, but you hope the look in your eyes answers his question. It probably does, because there’s a tiny little smirk playing on the edge of Wonwoo’s lips before he kisses you, softer than you could ever imagine he would be in this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” he breathes, the sudden confession making a different kind of burn itch your throat. You know very well that when Wonwoo tells you that I’m the middle of sex then it’s because this will be a passionate fucking. One of those that he keeps your body so close you think you might become one with him, one of those he kisses you so gently one moment only to treat you roughly in the other, one of those he wants to make you fall apart, crumble and cry and even so, it will be full of love and care and sweetness. “I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t need to, he knows your heart belongs to him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say ah for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo instructs and you obey, mouth hanging open, tongue out. Wonwoo slaps his cock against it, precum dirtying your tongue as the slap slap slap of his cock hitting your mouth fills the heavy air of the room. He even traces the tip over your upper lip, smearing precum along your cheek when he slaps your face with it before placing his cock right back on your waiting tongue. “Put this mouth to better use.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You do, eager to do as you’re told after Wonwoo’s confession, blood singing from his praise and his disparagement alike. You sink down onto it as far as you can take it, nearly gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Wonwoo drowns out a broken “fuck” above you, stroking your cheek and moving further in the bed to lessen the awkward twist of your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wonwoo breathes, voice strained as you suck him off, head bobbing. He brushes your hair back, little groans and growls escaping him every time his cock hits the back of your throat, you swallowing around it, or when you speed up, fucking your mouth on Wonwoo’s length. “Such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush, heart hammering in your chest with the compliment, but he closes a fist in your hair and makes you stop all movements.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” Wonwoo starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. You know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. “until you gag.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan a bit uncontrollably around his cock, legs kicking in the bed at the affirmation, and Wonwoo is staring at you with a look you can’t quite describe. It makes you ashamed of being so eager but at the same time proud of being his little cockslut.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo holds you in place, hips bucking into your mouth. He goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling because it has been a while since the last time you sucked him off. It is short lived, as soon as you look up at him and nod — the best you could with your movements being kind of restricted —, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had Wonwoo’s fat cock in your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan, one of your hands still working up and down along Wonwoo’s shaft as he fucks into you, tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes. He falls a bit forward when you start gagging a little, throat convulsing around his thickness, and he sprawls his fingers in the wall for support.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit,” Wonwoo breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. Tingles spark down your spine, wetness pouring out of you and soaking your panties even more and you want so desperately to come, to be fucked, but you want to please him first.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and then he’s pulling away. You look at him, mind in a haze, but still dumbfounded. His breath is labored and he looks like he’s having a hard time keeping together, hips thrusting into the air. It boosts your ego to see him this messed up because of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did so well for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. It seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. At the look you’re giving him, he adds: “Wanna cum with you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. Wonwoo caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. His fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by Wonwoo’s greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And then Wonwoo’s sucking. Hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It caughts you off guard, hips lifting off of the bed and thigh pressing tightly against Wonwoo’s cock, his groan being muffled by your skin. He bites, suckles and kisses the particular spot underneath your jaw, so far up your neck you won’t be able to hide it, especially because it’s summer. And you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it’s throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked. It leaves you breathless, not having time to recover when Wonwoo pulls your shirt up until he can get one nipple into his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon, fuck,” you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, and Wonwoo growls at the nickname, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he’s telling you how much this affects him. “Please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you’re sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. Wonwoo busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Down and down, his fingers then slips inside your penties, brushing across your clit so lightly that it has your whole body rocking with shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s body goes completely still. You feel him tensing under your palms, heat already flooding your face when you know he feels it, feels the way you’re already stretched open for him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You—” he starts but stops himself, pushing a finger inside for great measure. Wonwoo growls when he meets almost no resistance, face lifting from where it rests on your chest to look at you. “When?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The intensity of his voice leaves your mouth dry.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“E-earlier, in the— in the s-shower,” you confess, voice quiet, and you can’t look away, Wonwoo’s eyes pinning you to your spot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hah,” he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. Wonwoo pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. You moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. “Acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gyrates his hand, pushing hard and without mercy, right before he adds another finger, this time more slowly. It burns a little, his fingers way bigger than yours, but you love the slight pain.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come into my house knowing I would fuck you?” Wonwoo asks, knows the answers but does it anyway. He moves his hand a little, waiting for your to be more comfortable with the sensation of his fingers, but as soon as your frown turns upside down, Wonwoo has no restrains whatsoever, fucking into you fast and sharp. “Fingered yourself knowing that I would split you open on my big cock?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but Wonwoo holds your waist with his free hand and pins them down hard. Your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can’t stop the loud moans slipping through your lips, doesn’t even care about the neighbors as your nails sink into Wonwoo’s back to the point it might leave tiny crescent moons all over it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come back then?” Wonwoo continues, pace unforgiving even when tears well up into your eyes. He trusts you to use your safeword if needed as much as you trust him to use his. “Did you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You struggle to answer, voice being surrendered to moans and whines and whimpers and it’s hard to focus when he’s hitting your sweet spot with the tip of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Ah, hmmm, f-fuck, please Won— Wonwon,” you try, can’t even understand how you still manage to get red when you realise Wonwoo is looking at you with so much desire. The point you both most like about your relationship is that Wonwoo is the dom, but he knows you have him in the palm of your tiny hands. “I, ah, d-din’t. Di— Didn’t want to, fuck, please— c-come without you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out at that, your cunt clenching around nothing as he goes lighting fast to take both of your clothes off, grab your waist and flip you on your stomach just as he reaches for the nightstand to grab what you know very well it’s a bottle of lube. He pulls your hips up until you’re face down, ass up on the bed, the hurry in all of this only sending desperation all over your body, and the sound of the cap being opened has butterflies in your stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck,” Wonwoo sounds a mess, fingers hurrying to close a fist on his cock and jerk it off furiously to spread the lube better, the wet head nudging against your rim. “Fuck, shit, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do it,” you beg. “Please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And who is he to deny what you want?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pushes inside you slowly despite his hunger, knows he’s big and there’s an alarming size difference between the both of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands clench into fists and it feels like you’re being impaled onto Wonwoo’s cock, going deeper than any cock you ever taken before. Tears cling to your lashes as a small jolt of pain runs up your spine, the lube easing Wonwoo’s way in. Overall you’re proud of yourself, haven taken him before, more times than you can count, and you accommodate his cock like a pro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your chest heaves, no amount of air feels like enough as Wonwoo’s cock all but punches everything out of you. You’re biting at the pillow by the time the last of it pushes into you, a haze surrounding your mind because it feels so good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s groan transforms into a moan once he’s buried all the way into you, hips flush against your ass and spreading you open so wide and so deep, you would think you might break if you didn’t know any better. You gasp, back arching downward as you take your time to adjust to the large intrusion.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your shoulder tenderly, waiting for you to grow used to the feeling. He can be rough when it comes to bed, but he always is mindful of you no matter how impatient and desperate he is. There’s this soft feeling going on inside you, mixing with your pleasure and it only serves to make you more needy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, hot breath falling against your neck as he stands behind you. You feel surrounded — his scent everywhere, the pulse of the hickeys he carved on your skin, the press of his long fingers on your waist —, your submission for Wonwoo’s eyes only.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You nod at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

A lick at your neck is all the warning you get before Wonwoo pulls out so very slowly, cock dragging against your walls and rim. It feels like forever, you whining at the sensation, and then you’re being slammed back into.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes blurry as you struggle for air. You moan as Wonwoo drags himself back out again, and thrusts right back in and groans at the feeling. “Y-yes—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So good,” Wonwoo growls, close to inhumane as he continues with that pace. “So fucking good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Eventually, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be able to go slow anymore, thrusts turning sharper and harder, his pace unrelenting. You find yourself almost screaming through it, so overwhelmed by the size of him — a good overwhelmed, the best overwhelmed —, but the way you feel so full and the exponential pleasure leaves you numb to any other thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, your mind seems to chant, fucked open mercilessly by your boyfriend.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Taking cock like a pro, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wonwoo says, stops for a second, adjusts his hips, and then slams back right into your sweet spot, like he knows where it is by heart. Your body lurches forward, bed slamming against the wall. Hands reaching to hold onto something, you scramble against the sheats until one of them fists it and the other holds the pillow for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole hall, screaming like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You have enough of a decency to feel ashamed about it, but it’s not like neither of you actually care. If anything, Wonwoo fucks you harder, hips jamming inside you until your throat hurts from all the noises you’re making.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, p-please— I wanna— I h-have to— Fuck, ah!” you’re not even sure about what you’re begging for, Wonwoo pulling your hips to meet his thrusts half way. You love this, feeling like a ragdoll, being thrown around and only able to take what he gives to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good little girl,” Wonwoo croons, his voice rough. Your skin glistens with sweat, the shimmering red light reflecting on it. “Looking so beautiful taking my cock.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure what compels you after he says that but you reach down, hand smoothing down your abdomen because you feel like Wonwoo is spearing you open. But you go completely tense, squeezing Wonwoo so hard he stutters with a moan, because under your palm there is the outline of his cock protruding against your lower belly. The feeling makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t hold it in, whithe pleasure flooding you as you end up coming, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you’re crying all the way through it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re coming?” Wonwoo deadpans, sounding surprised and angry at the same time. “Holy shit, you’re coming untouched and without my permission? What were you think—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s complaint immediately dies down when you bring a trembling hand to grab his wrist and put his fingers in the cause of your orgasm. There’s a beat of silence, the both of you completely still, and then Wonwoo is growling the most animalistic growl you ever heard him do, the sheer intensity of it rocking all the way to your bones. He presses his hips so tightly into yours it has you sobbing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” it’s all he says, tone two octaves lower and sounding dangerous, doesn’t even have it in him to punish you. “Fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s like the caged beast he keeps so carefully locked deep within himself started to surface. Wonwoo pushes your head down on the mattress, the other hand still on your belly. He pulls out until the tip and then slams back inside, as hard as he can, and you downright scream at the feeling, the oversensitiviness adding up to your pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Wonwoo is fucking you brutally. His moans echo through the room, so completely desperate that it has you wailing, sobbing, crying desperate pleas for more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at that,” Wonwoo says, hand pressing harder against the bulge in your stomach. “Pushed my big cock into you until your insides were forced to make room for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He grabs your arm and yanks you up, your back pressing against his chest and an arm circling around your waist. The other comes up to squeeze your left breast as you practically sit on his thighs. You moan at the feeling of his pierced nipple dragging against your skin every time he fucks up into you, your body only held in place because of the firm grip Wonwoo has on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sobbing, you feel like you’re losing yourself in the sensations, Wonwoo’s cock pounding into your cunt and his voice by your ear and the burn of his hips hitting your ass — by now it must be all red, the marks probably going to linger for some time. You can’t hold yourself together anymore, mouth open and drooling, tears clinging to your lashes, staccato moans falling from your lips that break on every thrust. You’re limp against Wonwoo, can’t even fuck back, letting him have his way with you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Drooling all over yourself for my cock,” Wonwoo says, fucks in deep against your sweet spot and mouths at the side of your neck. “Because of me, right? Tell me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you— yours, yours, please,” your head falls back on his shoulder, hand pressing tightly in the shape of his cock in your stomach, and at this point you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ve broken you in, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he did, really. He has broken you in, has you crying on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You belong to who?” Wonwoo pressed his hips flush on your ass, grinds hard enough for your body to be sent forward. A short few seconds so you can take a breath — or at least try to. “Hm? Who’s fucking you this good?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, Wonwon, you, please,” you cry out as he starts to fuck you mercilessly again, the brutal pace punching moans out of you. “Ah, ah, ah, p-please, haaah, I’m y-yours— yours, b-belong to, hmmm, to you only, please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echoes, thrusts turning erratic and groans morphing into moans. “Mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I can’t — I’m g-gonna—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And it’s enough for you. Your muscles tense, toes curling as hot, white pleasure surges through your body and floods you until you fall limp on the bed, hips only up because Wonwoo is holding them tightly. You clench around his cock involuntarily, his groan muffled by your hair and he’s coming, Wonwoo’s cock twitching inside you as thick spurts of come fill you to the brim. They seem to be endless, his spunk filling you up until it’s dripping out and down your thighs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t remember much of what happens later. Your mind spins and then you fall into a most needed slumber.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wake up a bit disoriented, having no idea how much has passed since you fell asleep, but you realise you’re all cleaned up and dressed, head resting in Wonwoo’s — thankfully, for the sake of your precious pussy — clothed chest as he uses his cellphone. He smells clean too, hair still a little bit wet, and you smile thinking that the shower you both took before going to bed was useless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re up?” comes Wonwoo’s question when he feels your lips moving against him, placing his phone somewhere on the bed and circling his arms around you. You move your head, looking up at him with fondness.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, baby,” you breathe out, reaching to peck him in the lips once. He smiles, that kind of smile that leaves you breathless with love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, my love,” Wonwoo laughs when you blush at the pet name. It’s so sweet and endearing, you always feel warm whenever he says it. “I see you still get all red when I call you that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you swat at his arm, Wonwoo’s following laugh sounding like the best music you ever heard. “How much did I sleep?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Not much,” he presses you tighter against him. “I think one hour? Something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you say, legs tangling with his and the smile never leaving your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course, my love. Always will take care of you,” Wonwoo nuzzles your hair and inhales. “Got kind of surprised that I managed to fuck you into unconsciousness.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you mortify with a laugh, hitting his chest, but he only giggles at you. He giggles. Your heart might explode soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What? Can’t I be happy that I pleasured my tiny girlfriend the way she deserves to?” Wonwoo says, and it sounds like a joke, but when you look up at him again to make a retort, the reverence in his eyes surrenders you speechless.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He stares at you with so much admiration and love, like you’re the most beautiful thing ever.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” you say instead, cheeks hurting from the way you’re smiling, and Wonwoo seems to be caught off guard because he’s blushing. Wonwoo’s blushing. He’s so cute you want to die.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” he coughs, pushing your head against his chest and you laugh at this shyness. “I love you too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Yes. The warmness of his hands, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the love in his eyes, the sweetness of his words — you missed everything about Jeon Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

3K notes · View notes

kojinnie · 3 years

Text

Why you should NOT date AOT boys...

Headcanon on what kind of headache you're bound for when dating the AOT boys, and why I advise you NOT to date them! Enjoy, loves!

levi - eren - armin - reiner

part two here | erwin - zeke - jean - connie

— LEVI

He's an incredible man with a lot of talents and he'd be doing real good at his job, that dating him would give you a huge sense of pride. However, this man suffers from being emotionally constipated. He'd always keep you in the fine line of "are we or are we not?", even though you’ve been seeing each other for a long time. He’d never say “I love you” or any type of flashy display of affection. His love language is acts of service and quality time, so if you’re the type to wanting outward reassurance of how someone feels about you, Levi’s not gonna be the person to give you that.

This problem stems from his deep, unresolved insecurity about the nature of relationship. It’s not just the “Am I good enough?”, he genuinely thinks that he is not a good person, and thus the inherent belief that everybody will abandon him in the end — something he picks up from his traumatic childhood. He’s wary about establishing relationship because he’s afraid to succumb into his own feelings and vulnerability. He fears at certain point he has to feel and suffer the emotional consequence of being left by someone he cares for. He dreads the idea of getting caught off-guard with being fragile.

You gotta be extremely patient and understanding when it comes to Levi, the reassurance needs to come from you, and frequently too. Bluntly saying, “I’ll stick around” or “I’ll accept your shortcoming” is really soothing for Levi, because although he never shows it, he really thinks he does not deserve you.

— EREN

If you wanna be frustrated in a relationship where you constantly feel like you’re in an endless coaster, then dating Eren gotta be your poison. Sure the honeymoon phase was intoxicating, sure he makes you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. The morning text, the playful neck peck out in the public, the butterflies you feel in your tummy when you catch him staring at you even from afar with those oh so enthralling green eyes. But once the honeymoon phase over, Eren is quick to get bored. Especially if you’re an unproblematic, matter-of-fact type of person. Eren likes to fight, he gets thrilled by it, and he’s high with the rush of adrenaline. He likes it if you’re jealous, if you sulk, if you argue. He likes you to be ‘childish’ because then he gets to be the adult, the savior, the knight in shining armor. It grinds his gears. If you’re unfazed by his antics, if you’re easy to forgive, if you’re chill, Eren will think that you’re not really into him, and will exit the closest door out before his ego gets bruised even further.

Eren is sort of babied by people around him – his parents, his friends, and constantly being compared to his older brother doesn’t help either. He realizes that he got saved a lot of times by a lot of people. And this creates a deeply rooted insecurity with him that turns into an incessant impostor syndrome. The constant thought of not being good enough and the idea that all the achievement he’s ever got was the result of someone else’s help really crush him. You can shower him with praises and reassurance, but he would completely dismiss it, because he thinks your compliments are not based on objective views and that he does not deserve it. He painfully seeks for approval from any authority figure that (he thinks) does not have any emotional connection with him. And it can be really hurtful when he constantly dismisses your sincere compliments while desperately chasing from others who don’t care about him.

— ARMIN

It’s really hard to hate Armin. He’s a really nice man through and through, but what is his strength can also be his deepest weakness. He’s too nice and unsure about a lot of things. He knows he is knowledgeable, but he often doubts himself for being too ‘text-book smart’. Which is a valid cause, because at times he would get very oblivious to how relationship works, and treat feelings like it’s a quantifiable system. It will literally take years for him to finally get down and say how he feels about you, because all these times he was so busy filling the check-list in his mind to convince himself whether you truly like him or not, even though you couldn’t be any clearer with your intention towards him.

He is perceptive with what you think and how you feel, unfortunately this does not materialize into any action as he doubts his own intuition when it comes to his significant other. He fears that his own sentimentality has affected his intuitive judgment and thus deems it invalid, which is completely untrue because every hunch he has about you has always been accurate! That’s just how much he understands and knows you from years of quietly observing and taking each of your word into account.

He really relies on you sitting him down and telling him in details how you feel and the things you expect from him. He will do it, in a flash with no hesitation, but really, he just needs that verbal affirmation that he is doing the things that you want, and it’s not just based on his assumption. So, if you like sweet surprises, impulsive dates and expect your significant other to read your mind, Armin might not be the person.

— REINER

Oh my, truthfully, he is such a sweetheart, and can be completely smitten for the entirety of his life if he has found that one person. However, it’s a treacherous road for both Reiner and you to get to that stage. Initially, when you start to get closer to him, he may seem rigid and uninterested. The first date you had with him probably went awkward and although you really liked him, you were pretty sure he didn’t like you back, until he texted you the morning after, asking for a second date. That’s basically how being with Reiner is, a series of you being sure that he feels nothing towards you, only for his following action to prove the otherwise. He is really awful in displaying his emotion, he tries to be stoic all the time, and it often frustrates you because you cannot really tell how he feels, and you fear that you might have hurt him without realizing.

He may start to open up, only when you open up first about yourself. He thrives in romance with someone who he thinks shares his inner pain, and that’s very important for him, because he is always in a position where everyone expects him to be strong, and to have a significant other that understands his struggle is all he wants. But this gets hard for you, because sometimes Reiner’s sadness can be quite extreme and you cannot match that. Once Reiner realizes that you’re not on the same boat, he may become withdrawn, as he thinks he’s a burden and inadequate for you, and may end up self-sabotaging the whole relationship he has with you.

Although he does not like to admit it, but Reiner often slips into his sadness too deep, that it almost seems like he victimizes himself with his self-hatred. He will be the one to say stupid shit like, “You deserve someone better.” Or “I cannot make you happy.” When in fact you are perfectly willing to be with him all the way through.

With Reiner, you gotta be the bigger person, with bigger gestures and bigger patience. It’s because Reiner needs an anchor and a figure to lean on. In returns he would be the best lover that you will ever have for he is selfless and will be helplessly devoted to you.

Racking my brain writing for the rest of the boys (Erwin, Jean, Connie, Pocko) because they're the ones we SHOULD date.

Update: Thanks thanks thanks for everyone who read this! I received a lot of love and you dunno how much this encourages me to keep going. Anyway, 2 things:

- My Masterlist

- Talk to meeee ♡

[ON-GOING REQUEST EVENT]: Kojinnie's 200 Followers Celebration - 24/7 Writing Event

#aot headcanons #snk headcanons #levi headcanons #eren headcanons #armin headcanons #reiner headcanons #levi ackerman #eren jaeger #armin arlert #reiner braun #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot levi #aot eren #aot armin #aot reiner

1K notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

for the prompts: NMJ/JC - Everyone with a functioning brain cell can see that JC just needs someone to tell him he’s doing a good job. And if WWX isn’t stepping up? Well, NMJ definitely will. (Preferably smut and/or fluff) Thank you! ❤️

Compliments - ao3

It started in anger, out of spite.

Traditionally, the world took this to be a bad thing, but in all honesty the vast majority of projects in the Nie sect were started that way – they inherited fiery tempers and spiteful personalities from their ancestors along with their saber cultivation traditions – and it didn’t always turn out badly. There were any number of buildings, techniques, or technological innovations in the Unclean Realm that had started life as a furious fuck you to someone and only turned into something worthwhile about halfway through, once the person involved had calmed down enough to think about what they were doing, realize they were already committed, and then shrug and carry on forward because there was no point in stopping a charge midway.

What Nie Mingjue meant was: there was precedent.

He liked to think it started with Jiang Fengmian, but if Nie Mingjue was being honest with himself, it started back in the Unclean Realm when Nie Huaisang had told him, quite casually over dinner, that he thought that the female cultivator in his class was very pretty and that he’d be happy to marry her.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue had said, very intelligently. “Huaisang, you’re seven.”

Nie Huaisang had not seen the problem. Instead, he explained very forthrightly that it was only right that he start thinking early on about his marriage, as getting married and having children would be his great contribution to the sect on account of being useless good-for-nothing unfit for anything else –

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who told you that?!”

Nie Huaisang claimed he had deduced it.

Nie Mingjue claimed that Nie Huaisang was full of bullshit, and also that he wasn’t good-for-nothing even if he wasn’t good at saber, and anyway even if he was a total good-for-nothing he was still Nie Mingjue’s good-for-nothing and no one had better say a single damn word against him or Nie Mingjue would bite them.

“I meant stab them!” he explained, far too late; Nie Huaisang was already rolling around laughing to the point of tears. “I have a saber. I can stab people! I’m actually very scary, you know!”

Nie Huaisang hadn’t believed him one bit and had carried on, seemingly at peace and forgetting everything, but Nie Mingjue had gone seeking advice from all of his elders and counselors and the more dependable senior disciples of his sect, abruptly terrified that he was permanently damaging Nie Huaisang by raising him the wrong way or something. Didn’t children need encouragement at that age? Weren’t they all young and tender peaches liable to be bruised at the slightest glance or young sprouts that needed to be sheltered from the harsh wind lest they grow up crooked?

Everyone assured him that children were hardier than they appeared, flexible and capable of bouncing back from just about anything. He'd pressed, though, pointing out that even the most flexible wood would eventually form a crack in the face of a vicious hurricane, and in the end they'd admitted that it was better to avoid applying too much pressure at too young an age, that a child squeezed too hard or not hard enough might develop neuroses that would hinder them in the future.

They mostly tried not to look at him when they said that, presumably thinking to themselves that Nie Mingjue was little more than a child himself and had already been subject to the worst pressures possible, which would undoubtedly result in who knows what future issues, but he hadn’t paid that part any mind. As far as he was concerned, his life was already a loss – he had sworn to take revenge for his father, to make that ancient monster Wen Ruohan pay with his life for what he had done and furthermore he'd sworn to pay back the blood debt in full before any of that burden passed to Nie Huaisang.

Letting Nie Huaisang grow up happy – that was what mattered.

Letting him be insulted when Nie Mingjue wasn’t looking played no part in that plan. If Nie Huaisang were going to be insulted, let it be by outsiders who he wouldn’t need to care about! Within their Nie sect, at minimum, he should be doted upon and honored, or else those responsible would have to explain themselves to Nie Mingjue.

Those dark thoughts still lingering in his mind, he had gone to the Lotus Pier for a discussion conference, and that, perhaps, was where it really started.

Rumor had already made the entire cultivation world aware that Jiang Fengmian had found the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and that he had taken him into his home as his ward, allowing him to become a Jiang sect disciple – treating him almost as one of the family, even. That much was known, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jiang Fengmian proudly introduced him or even more proudly showed him off, praising him to the high heavens.

What did come as a surprise was how little he praised his own son standing beside him, despite them being only a few days apart in age. It was as if Jiang Fengmian had simply forgotten that such a creature existed, much less that he had himself contributed to its spawning, and the constant looks of hope – invariably crushed – the child sent him made it clear that the present situation had been going on for some time.

Fuck you, Nie Mingjue thought, seeing red, seeing instead Nie Huaisang in his failed saber classes, struggling so desperately to keep up with the rest even though his body wouldn’t allow for it, being told he was useless and a good-for-nothing and fit for nothing but marriage. Fuck you, Jiang Fengmian.

He couldn’t say that, of course.

So instead he said, “Excellent stance,” to the child, who'd received the courtesy name Wanyin but seemed to be universally called Jiang Cheng. “Do you know the others in the set?”

Jiang Cheng, staring at him, very slowly nodded, and demonstrated them.

“Absolutely perfect,” Nie Mingjue said loudly, drawing attention to himself with his over-loud voice that everyone would automatically forgive on account on him being both a Nie and a young man. “You can see how hard you’ve worked at it, and it has paid off handsomely. You are very lucky in your son, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“…thank you,” Jiang Fengmian said, a little bemused at being interrupted. He’d been talking yet again about Wei Wuxian’s brilliance at picking up the sword again after years of living on the streets without practice, even though at the moment the smiling boy's admittedly impressive skills were still largely wild and undisciplined.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and said: “When exactly did you say the opening festivities would be starting?”

Jiang Fengmian had clearly forgotten about that in his enthusiasm, so he quickly hurried back to the actual subject at hand and the discussion conference was started in earnest.

It was almost enough to allow Nie Mingjue to forget the matter and put it behind him.

Or, it would have been, if only Jiang Fengmian hadn’t continued to insert praise for Wei Wuxian at every possible instance – it was as if he were the man’s first-born son, rather than another person’s child.

Irritated beyond belief, Nie Mingjue started complimenting Jiang Cheng every time Jiang Fengmian said something nice about Wei Wuxian, and he made sure to keep his compliments accurate: he was a hard worker, dedicated and sincere, thoughtful, clever, not overly arrogant…

“Wei Wuxian came up with his own ideas for a sword style already,” Jiang Fengmian claimed at one point. “You can see him on the training ground now, practicing it – take a look!”

Nie Mingjue picked up a stone and flicked it over with his fingers, making Wei Wuxian jump half a chi into the air and nearly fall on his ass.

“Weak foundation, and he over-commits,” he analyzed dryly, because it was true, and because no one else was saying it. He didn't make it any harsher than it had to be: he had nothing against the boy himself, of course; it was only that he knew from experience that it was much easier to be the one being complimented than the one not. “He’s got his head so high in the clouds that his feet are barely touching the ground – the weakest fierce corpse would knock him flat as a pancake with a childish style like that. He’d be better off sticking with orthodox or he’ll end up in real trouble one day.”

“Sect Leader Nie, really,” Jiang Fengmian said disapprovingly. “He’s only nine.”

“Old enough to pick up bad habits,” Nie Mingjue retorted. “Your son’s the same age and he’s as steady as a rock. If Jiang Cheng keeps going as he is, he’ll have a strong enough base to outlast the fiercest storm.”

“A rock has no imagination,” Jiang Fengmian said, and was he actually arguing that his son was inferior? Out loud, in front of outsiders? Did the man have no shame? “Mingjue, you’re young, but you must know that my Jiang sect prizes freedom and creativity as the highest virtue –”

“Would you rather build a house using a firework or a foundation stone?” Nie Mingjue asked, doing his best not to outwardly bristle at the condescendingly intimate use of his name by someone who might be technically his elder but legally his equal. “Tell me, Fengmian, does your Jiang sect’s acclaimed ‘freedom’ only allow for people to be as fluid as the river and not as steady as the earth?”

Jiang Fengmian faltered, clearly not knowing how to answer that.

Nie Mingjue raised his hands in a sarcastic salute: “As the leader of a sect whose style is based on a grounded foundation, I would be very happy if you would educate me in your wisdom. No doubt my peers would benefit as well.”

Perhaps it was at that point that Jiang Fengmian realized that his words could be misinterpreted as an insult to all the sects whose styles were less free-flowing than the Jiang – just about all of them except for maybe the Lan and their subsidiary sects, given their preference for techniques modeled on the wind over the water – and moreover that this was a discussion conference, where every word was political, and that a great deal of people were glaring balefully at him. He hastily moved the conversation onwards, and left the subject of his sons for another day.

Later that evening, Madame Yu came over to where Nie Mingjue was nursing a bowl of very fine wine that he didn’t especially feel like consuming. Before he could start worrying about the Purple Spider’s intentions, she said, voice stiff, “Your words regarding my son are too kind. His skills are still inferior; he has a great deal of progress yet to be made.”

“He’s only nine,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling mortified that she’d noticed his little temper tantrum, which he had belatedly realized was probably extremely obvious. “Anyway, I wasn't lying. He has a good foundation; he’ll be a fearsome cultivator one day, there’s no doubt. I only said what I saw.”

“You didn’t comment about Wei Wuxian,” she said. “You must have noticed his genius.”

“Geniuses don’t need to be praised overmuch,” Nie Mingjue said. He himself had been termed a genius by his teachers, and he’d hated every single moment of it – couldn’t he just be good at things without having people fall all over themselves to compliment him? He’d enjoyed it at the start, but after a while it had started to wear on him; he was expected to be a genius in all things, and being simply ordinary was suddenly seen as failing. “It’s the ones that have to work hard that do, or else they’ll be discouraged…comparing someone to another person’s child works as a spur to a certain extent, but after a while it loses its potency as a tool.”

Your husband is a fucking idiot, he didn’t say. It’s his own son! How could he speak like that about him? Shouldn’t he be holding him in his palms like a gentle flame, protecting him from the wind and rain? How can he bear to scold his son when he hasn't shown that the scolding is meant for his benefit?

“Perhaps,” Madame Yu said, but it was clear on her face that she wasn’t about to start taking parenting advice from a half-grown sprout like Nie Mingjue. “Nevertheless, your words were kind.”

She swept away after that, much to his relief. He shook his head and daydreamed about a magic tool that would make this whole nightmarish experience go by that much quicker.

In the end, it went by at the same speed it always did. It could have ended there, but Nie Mingjue kept up the habit of blatantly complimenting Jiang Cheng in future sect conferences as well, if only because it clearly irritated Jiang Fengmian – less because Nie Mingjue was praising his son and more because it was so obviously meant as an indirect critique of Jiang Fengmian’s skills as a parent or sect leader, and moreover it reminded all the other sects of that unfortunate interchange and made them less inclined to listen to him – and of course, because, well, once you’ve started a charge, you had to finish it even if you came to your senses about halfway through.

He made sure to keep it proportionate, of course, since there was nothing worse than false praise. He didn’t really mean anything by it, other than the half-formed thought that someone ought to be doing it – that the boy should know that someone looked at him and Wei Wuxian and remembered to praise him first. Nie Mingjue praised Wei Wuxian too, of course, since the boy often deserved it; it was only that he made a particular point not to forget about Jiang Cheng, either.

(He also made sure the other sect leaders saw how well the technique could be used to fluster Jiang Fengmian, an intrusion into his personal life that could be masked in perfect politeness, and several of them picked up the same tact, though less consistently than Nie Mingjue – Sect Leaders Jin and Wen, naturally, always looking for a weakness, but interestingly enough also Lan Qiren, who was normally above such petty maneuvers. Possibly he was actually just complimenting Jiang Cheng because he sincerely approved of him.)

He didn’t think much of it.

Nie Mingjue didn’t think much of it during the other discussion conferences, or when he came to the Cloud Recesses to pick up Nie Huaisang, who had – amazingly – actually managed to pass this time, although the expression on Lan Qiren’s face suggested the pass might have more to do with the other sect leader’s desire to never see Nie Huaisang haunt his classroom ever again.

“You know what, don’t tell me. Tell me….hm…how did Jiang Wanyin do?” Nie Mingjue asked, hand over his eyes as if it could forestall the headache. “He’s a bright boy, and knows how to put his mind to something when he wants. Tell me about him instead, it’ll be less depressing.”

“He’s very bright,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Very thoughtful, and very thorough. He sometimes errs towards conservatism out of fear of giving the wrong answer, but that’s just a matter of confidence; his thinking is very good. He’s very clear-sighted as long as the matter is logical, rather than emotional.”

“No surprise,” Nie Mingjue grunted. “He’ll be a sect leader worthy of respect, in his time.”

When he’s rid of that father of his dragging him down, he thought ungraciously, and he saw Lan Qiren bob his head in a sharp nod of unspoken agreement.

“All right,” he said. “I’m adequately fortified now. Tell me about Huaisang.”

Lan Qiren gave him a look of profound sympathy.

It wasn’t until much later, during the Sunshot Campaign, that it was first called to his attention – by Jiang Cheng himself, oddly enough.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he hissed, having stayed behind after one of their meetings.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Doing – what?”

“You – you said – about me…!”

Nie Mingjue tried to recall what he’d said during the meeting just now. “That you – were doing an excellent job while facing much higher level of obstacles than everyone else?” he hazarded, because he had said something like that. “Or was it the bit about how if any of them had needed to rebuild their sect and fight at the same time, we’d all be doomed because they couldn’t multitask for shit?”

Yeah, it was probably that one.

“I didn’t mean any offense by referencing what happened to your sect,” he said, hoping to explain. “It was only –”

“I didn’t take offense,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but – it happened, everyone knows that it happened, not talking about it isn’t going to make it not have happened. That’s not what I meant…why do you keep saying such nice things about me?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Because they’re true?”

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always said nice things about me. Ever since I was a little kid – every time you saw me, at the discussion conferences, or the Cloud Recesses, or even in your letters to my father…”

He had in fact done that.

“I just want to know why. Is it – my father’s not around, you can’t be doing it just to piss him off, even though I know that was part of it. Why me?”

Nie Mingjue coughed a little, having not realized that Jiang Cheng had noticed. Or possibly even overheard, in regards to the Cloud Recesses. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of the other person’s child,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded his head sharply, clearly thinking of Wei Wuxian. “You’re Huaisang’s.”

“Me?” Jiang Cheng seemed unduly vulnerable when he asked. “You compare him – to me?”

“It’s amazing he tolerated you at the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. In fact, his brother had all but declared war on Jiang Cheng in absentia on account of all Nie Mingjue’s comments, only for his first letter home from the Cloud Recesses that year to be I see why you like him! He’s cute! A perfect match for you! because he’d apparently decided that Nie Mingjue had a crush on the boy.

Which he certainly hadn’t – at least not when he’d been that age, anyway. Jiang Cheng had grown up to embody every single one of the compliments Nie Mingjue had paid him when he’d been younger, especially with the maturity and natural aura of command that came to him after his personal tragedy.

“But why…you knew Wei Wuxian about as well as you knew me.”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “And that would have helped Huaisang how, exactly? If I wanted to compare him with someone who picked things up the first time they saw it, I wouldn’t need to go outside the Nie sect for that – I was also considered a genius when I was young. It’s no failing to be born without a vast and unending natural talent; Huaisang’s issue has always been his unwillingness to put in the effort.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him.

“Anyway, your father was so blinded by his adoration for Wei Wuxian that he overlooked your merits, which are different but no less impressive,” Nie Mingjue added. “As someone who was trying to figure out how to raise a child, it irritated me; I thought someone ought to make it clear to you that you were seen.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice strangely hoarse. “Yes, you – you succeeded.”

He paused for a moment, meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes intently, and then abruptly said, “I’ll be leaving,” and dashed out.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he should stop or not. Jiang Cheng had said he wasn’t offended…anyway, it was a fixed habit by now. He’d been doing it for over half his life! He couldn’t stop that easily! It would be like trying to stop his temper, or a charge – there was nothing for it.

Jiang Cheng would just have to live with a few compliments.

“Wow, you’re an idiot,” Nie Huaisang said when he told him about the incident, months later while he was lying in bed, recovering from the disaster that had been the end of the war. “I’ll fix this.”

“Fix what?”

“I’m going to tell him you’re dying,” Nie Huaisang decided.

“You’re going to do what?!”

“Stay in bed, da-ge! Doctor’s orders!”

The Nie sect chief doctor was an extremely terrifying person. Nie Mingjue stayed in bed.

Some time later, Jiang Cheng stormed in, face pale.

“Huaisang’s a rotten liar and I’m going to be fine,” Nie Mingjue said at once.

Jiang Cheng stopped mid-storm, and abruptly deflated. “Really?”

“Really. I would’ve stopped him, but I’m stuck in bed for the moment.”

Jiang Cheng took a seat next to him. “That sounds serious. You shouldn’t underestimate war wounds, especially given your sect’s tendency towards qi deviations...”

“Compassionate as well,” Nie Mingjue teased. “I’ll have to add that to the rotation of compliments.”

Jiang Cheng flushed red. “You’re…planning on continuing?”

“For the rest of my life, however short it might be,” Nie Mingjue said, because he was an honest person, even when it was inconvenient. He was going to explain about the habit, and the concept of stopping mid-charge, but he didn’t manage to start before Jiang Cheng grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up into a kiss.

After that, he figured that maybe explaining that part of it wasn’t necessary. He might be slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t actually stupid.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #jiang fengmian #lan qiren #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #compliments

281 notes · View notes

lacheri · 3 years

Note

More simp Eren pls 😩 I wanna know how he teaches us what he wants in bed

SAY LESSSSS I GOT YOU!!! (nsfw under the cut, minors DNI, simp!eren)

i got carried away with this sorry not sorry

how Eren teaches you what he wants in bed

First and foremost, his top priority is you. As long as you’re getting off, Eren’s getting off, plain and simple.

But when it comes to his own kinks and desires, he’s gonna be introducing you to them day mf one. He’s super into giving you praises and compliments, it morphs itself into a consent kink as well.

“I’m gonna’ make you feel so good, princess” is a prime example of the two coming together, it gives you an opening to accept or refuse whatever he’s prepping you for. And luckily for you, most of the time it’s head. Which brings us to our first point:

Eren loves head, giving and receiving. He has no problem switching between dom and sub mode, and often does so seamlessly.

He wants your thighs suffocating him, he wants you to use his face as your personal sex toy. He’ll encourage you by grabbing your thighs at first, moving them so they’re squeezed around his head.

Dom!Eren’s gonna hold your hips down and eat you out like he’s fucking starving, while Sub!Eren lolls his pretty little tongue out, gazing up at you in complete adoration and worship, letting you take whatever you want from him.

Regardless of whatever role he’s serving, Eren loves it fucking sloppy and filthy. If he can’t tell the difference between his spit and your pussy’s juices, he isn’t doing his job right.

Eren’s the type of simp who will eat you out for 45 minutes. This is facts idc idc

You’re guaranteed an orgasm with Eren. There’s no questioning, no debates. And while Eren wouldn’t care or mind at all if you owned actual sex toys (he’d definitely want to use them on you too if you do), just know Eren’s willing to drop to his knees at any given moment for you.

And when it’s Eren’s turn, your ears are going to burn as he praises you.

Because Eren is so good to you and your body, you naturally want to reciprocate the favor.

Eren is vocal. Your man is not shy in the slightest. He’s guiding you with his words, encouraging your every move.

Hands on your head, playing with your hair, rubbing massages into your scalp as you suck his cock. Every single time.

He’s going to guide your head the entire time, and not once is he going to look away. Maybe for a split second to throw his head back as he swears in ecstasy, but he’s lolling right back forward to keep complimenting you and how hard you’re working to please him.

“Such a good girl, yeah, just like that, you look so pretty sucking my cock,” he’s cooing to you the entire time.

He’s shocked every time you deep throat, or try to.

He’s in the palm of your hand, physically and emotionally, completely wrapped around your finger.

And in the back of his mind, Eren’s worried sick that his big cock is too big for your tiny throat and that he’s hurting you. He might try to pull you back by your hair, just to be sure you’re getting enough breath.

And while Eren is completely in love with you as he watches the fat tears roll down your cheeks, telling you how you’re such a good girl, he’d much rather see your mouth hanging open as he fucks you into oblivion.

Going down on Eren never lasts as long as you want to. Half of it due to Eren’s sensitivity, he’s going to bust the second you place your beautiful lips around his head, and because he knows your pussy is drenched and begging for attention.

And afterall, he’s got one job here, and that’s to worship you like the goddess you are.

Eren has no problem not cumming during sex. He doesn’t fuck you for his pleasure, he’s doing it all for you.

If he feels your pretty hole tightening up, or you’re quivering in exhaustion, he’s stopping right then. Eren’s wrapping you in his arms, and telling you how good of a job you did for lasting as long as you did. Sometimes you just need the quick break, entirely spent from all the orgasms Eren’s giving you.

“Eren,” you’d whine, getting the feeling back in your legs, burning desire pooling in your stomach. “Need you, now.”

“Are you sure, princess?” he’d look at you with so much concern, and a hint of a smirk would grace your lips as his cock would throb at your confession. “I can just eat you out, baby, if you want.”

You’d swing your legs over his thighs and slide his massive dick right back into your warmth, and Eren would be putty in your hands.

And Eren’s okay with this, simp!Eren is a switch through and through. He’s totally fine into molding into whatever fits the mood the best.

But when it comes to Eren taking control, oof, good luck, you’re going to need it.

When Eren’s in full dom mode, he’s plowing into like there’s not a second to waste. He’s going to bring you to your climax as fast as humanly possible, because he’s on the edge himself and can’t hold back anymore.

Eren’s got his hands all over you, and he can’t stop telling you pretty, gorgeous, beautiful you are. He’s telling you how good you feel around him, kissing you so deeply, you’d think he was trying to steal the air from your lungs.

More than anything, Eren loves feeling your hips try and meet his pace. He’d be okay if you laid there and took his assault, but when he feels/hears how desperate you are for him as well, it’s game over.

He’s on the brink of shooting his load into you, and only with your permission does he paint your walls in white. That’s Eren’s favorite place to cum, he loves to watch his seed leak out of your hole, one of the many claims he has on you. He knows you know this, and he feels a swell of awe knowing you want his pleasure as much he wants yours.

Eren adores hearing your whimpers and moans, it’s necessary for him to cum. He’s a very vocal lover, and if you’re not at the beginning of your relationship, he’s going to teach you exactly how to get comfortable mewling for him.

“Need to hear you, baby,” he’d kiss your neck sloppily, right below your ear as he would rasp. “I wanna’ hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“Do you like that?” Eren would ask huskily. “C’mon princess, tell me.”

Eren loves dirty talk. He loves the chase, the teasing. Loves making you feel like a queen, your pleasure is his pleasure.

And when you finally cum, on his mouth, his fingers, or around his cock, he’s coaxing you down so lovingly it brings tears to your eyes.

Eren is the King of Aftercare.

When the both of you settle down, the tingles of dopamine filling your brains, he’s rushing to clean up the mess he’s created.

Eren is in utter disbelief every time he’s face to face with your sobbing cunt, wet rag in hand. You’re soaked, the wet spot on the bed as proof of your love making. On especially long and exhaustive sessions, he’s picking you up bridal style and putting you in a warm bubble bath, following right behind you to massage your sore muscles.

Eren is so deeply in love with you, he’d do absolutely anything for you. It doesn’t take much to teach you how to please him in bed, because his biggest kinks revolves you and your pleasure. He’ll take as long as he needs to to teach you how to use your voice, how to respond to his praises, how to navigate between his switches.

But with Eren, it all comes so naturally. You never feel uncomfortable in his love, because Eren makes you feel so wanted, so beautiful, so loved and adored that you never have to question his devotion.

SIMP EREN SUPREMACY! I SAID WHAT I SAID!

#Anonymous #eren smut #eren headcanons #eren jeager x reader #simp eren lives in my head rent free #cherieanswers

309 notes · View notes

folkloreguk · 4 years

Text

Mirror, Mirror (m)

A/N: I will never ever determine which body type the reader has, but I want every single one of you to know that it’s okay to feel empowered by the way your nude body looks, you’re absolutely beautiful and no size is a limit to how sexy you can be!!! You go queens!

words: ~5.4 (I’m sorry idk how to write short things anymore asdfgh)

genre: smut, optional bias (male) x reader (female), kinda fwb??, sexting

[H/N means “his name”]

There’s no feeling quite like the one of trying on your new clothes that just arrived in the mail and loving how they looked. Especially when said clothes were lingerie and you felt like you could conquer the world, even when you were just standing in front of your mirror at 7 pm after you had just stuffed your stomach with lasagna. And what better way to enjoy your happiness than to share it with your best friend?

In fact, you had two best friends. One, a girl who you could trust with your life, and two, a boy who knew all your deepest secrets. One of the central differences between the two was that you would never think about asking the former about his opinion on your new lingerie. You almost laughed at the mere thought while you went through your contacts list and selected your friend’s name and clicked ‘send’. “It’s new. How do I look?” you typed and sent quickly, before throwing your phone onto you bed. You were feeling sexy, but for the rest of the evening there was only one way you wanted to feel: Comfortable. So, you changed into your pajamas instead.

You wondered what she would say about your photo. Sending almost-nudes to your friend might have seemed odd, but for the two of you, it was a completely normal occurrence. You loved making sure you both felt beautiful and confident by complimenting each other. Happily, you walked back to your room after you had picked up some snacks in the kitchen. You grabbed your phone as you plopped down on your bed. While you stuffed a handful of crisps into your mouth, you unlocked your phone to check your messages. You had expected a text from your best girl friend, but instead you had received one from H/N, your best boy friend. Pure horror consumed you when you clicked on the chat and saw your almost-nude there. Sent at 7:01 pm. Seen at 7:05 pm. And worst of all, he had replied before you could have clarified the mistake.

H/N: Idk where this came from but…you’re hot

You: SORRY THIS WASN’T MEANT FOR YOU

H/N: Okay that kinda offends me…you have a bf and didn’t tell me???

You: NO OMG THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING HELP…it was for GF/N just for fun!!!

H/N: Ohhh…in that case…

You watched the dots signaling that he was still writing while you were still wondering how you would ever look at him without getting embarrassed from now on. It wasn’t like the two of you never talked about sex. In fact, he knew a lot about what you liked and didn’t like in the bedroom. Not because he had witnessed it. But thanks to multiple sleep overs with late-night conversations, when your lips became a little loose, you had discussed more sexual topics than you had ever dreamt of. Your cheeks were still feeling hot when you received another text.

H/N: How do I look?

Without missing a beat, he had attached a photo of him. Shirtless. His hair was disheveled, as if he had just removed his shirt, which he probably had. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he stood in front of a mirror. He had tilted his head a little, showing off his jawline while he gazed at the camera with hooded eyes. You felt more embarrassed with every second you kept staring at his body.

H/N: OMG sorry this wasn’t for you!!!!!

Now you could only laugh at his stupid message.

You: Stop making fun of me!!

H/N: I’m trying to make you feel better!! Do I not get a compliment?

You: Thanks and you look great…can we please NEVER bring this up in the future?

H/N: Sure if that’s what you want…but if you ever need someone to rate your underwear again you know where to find me

~~~

And he really kept his promise. The next time you hung out, he was joking about everything but your little accident. You were thankful. But not mentioning the memory didn’t automatically delete it from your brain. And that’s where your newest problem begun.

You had never really looked at him in a sexual way before – sure, you thought he was handsome – but after than one damned picture he had sent you, you seemed to see him in a completely different light. There were no romantic feelings involved. But something felt profusely wrong about the way you thought about sex when he reached for a glass on the highest kitchen shelf and a small part of his abs was revealed. Or the way you instinctively licked your lips when you watched him stretch his neck in front of you. Or how your head spun when he lifted his shirt to wipe away his sweat when you worked out together.

One day was particularly bad. He had asked you to go to the public pool together, and being his best friend, of course you had said yes. As expected, he made you laugh until you were crying, scream when he playfully wrestled you in the water and giggle when he chased you on the water slide. And yet, you couldn’t help but notice his body. You almost felt bad, but then again, it wasn’t like you adored his character any less. You simply had some added adoration for another part of him. What were you supposed to do when he looked this good acting out a comic character while you played charades in the water? You might have been laughing on the outside, but you could barely tear your eyes off his neck and chest. Lately, you realized, the amount of thoughts you spent on wanting to kiss him had become problematic to you.

When you returned home at night, you couldn’t deny feeling sexually frustrated. Not wanting to give in to the inappropriate thoughts about your best friend, you turned on a tv show to distract yourself. But before you knew it, you were spending more time looking at your phone than at the tv screen. At first you browsed social media, but somehow you mustn’t have payed enough attention to your unconscious mind. You had miraculously landed on his Instagram, and when that didn’t entertain you anymore, you found yourself going back to your text messages with him. When you started at the shirtless picture he had sent you, you regretted not deleting it and forgetting about it right away. You wondered if he could ever feel the same way about you. You didn’t need any romantic feelings from him, in fact, you had no interest in a relationship at the moment. But you had never wanted someone this bad before and it was driving you crazy. So, before you could have stopped yourself, you were typing a message to him.

You: what r u doing??

H/N: do you miss me already?

H/N: ok do you really wanna know?

You: shut up you usually message me first!! and yes I do

H/N: I was about to jack off but you interrupted me

You almost choked on nothing when you read his message. Pretending you didn’t care, you replied quickly.

You: oh no am I killing the mood?

H/N: I didn’t say that

You: ????

H/N: don’t take this the wrong way but if you ever thought about sending me nudes again now would be the time

You: are u crazy?? are you actually asking me for nudes rn

H/N: it was worth a try ok let’s go back to being best friends who would never hook up

If you were freaking out about his previous messages, this one made you lose your mind completely. What was he saying? As confused as you were, you were also equally as sexually frustrated as he seemed to be. So, without a second thought, you chose the latest underwear picture you had taken and sent it to H/N.

You: that’s the most you’ll get…I won’t send complete nudes

You stared at the three dots indicating that he was writing a message. It felt like five minutes had passed when he finally replied.

H/N: fuck you’re so hot

And then he sent another shirtless picture. His bulge was prominent against his pants and the sight of it didn’t exactly help you with the pent-up frustration inside of you. But maybe it didn’t need to, because apparently, he felt the same way about you. You wanted to tell him about it. But there was no way you would be sexting your best friend at 11 pm, horny and frustrated. You knew you’d regret it and you’d only end up being embarrassed the next day. With no idea what to send him instead, you opted for simply waiting to see if he would say something. But he didn’t. Whilst waiting, you looked at his picture again. His jawline, his shoulders, his abs…and his boner straining against his sweatpants. For a moment you wondered if he was thinking about you too. Was he imagining it was you who was touching him when his hand wrapped around his cock? The more you let your thoughts run free, the worse your frustration became. And before you knew it, your hand was between your legs.

~~~

The next day you went about your duties, trying hard to pretend the previous day had been nothing but a fever dream. Luckily, you weren’t going to see him for another few days, so you could already practice an explanation of why sending nudes to each other had been a crazy idea. You worried about whether you could ever be the same around him after what had happened. But no matter how hard you tried to come up with a good reason why you should never even mention it again, you couldn’t. You were best friends who found each other hot. So what? Things could be worse. By nighttime, you had changed your mind. You were in the process of getting ready for sleeping, when your phone vibrated on your nightstand. His name lit up the screen.

H/N: you up?

You: not for long…whats up

H/N: I’m sorry for what I said yesterday about us not hooking up and so on…I was tipsy and you know my loose lips when I’m drunk

You: there’s nothing you need to apologize for

H/N: I was being weird and creepy…you’re my best friend

You: and you’re mine…that doesn’t stop me from finding you attractive

H/N: so I didn’t creep you out asking you for nudes?

You: I sent them to you, didn’t I… so what do u think

H/N: btw…thanks for that

You: likewise

…

H/N: so you’d do it again?

You: you’re not drunk now are you?

H/N: no just horny

You: dude I was about to go to sleep

If this had been a random guy you were occasionally talking to, you would have declined the request right away. You were tired and didn’t exactly feel too confident in your physical state. Nonetheless, you walked over to your mirror, pulled your shirt up until your bare breasts were almost exposed, and snapped a picture. Maybe it was the fact that you knew he’d return the favor and send you something back, or the immense trust you had in him. Posing in different ways, you took a few more pictures before you jumped back onto your bed. Impulsively, you chose the pictures you liked best and sent them to your best friend.

You: the things I do for you

H/N: fuck you look so good

You: have you always thought like that about me?

H/N: have I always found you hot?

You: yeah

H/N: I mean I never not found you hot

You: thanks I guess??

H/N: maybe we should have done this way earlier

You: agreed

Your eyes widened when he sent you a picture. He was still in his underwear, but his hand was wrapped around his visibly hard member outlined by the dark fabric. You had wanted to sleep, but somehow after looking at the photo for a little too long, you were wide awake. Leaning against the headboard of the bed, you let your head imagine whatever came to your mind. Never before had you noticed how much you liked his hands. Or maybe it was a temporary thing, now that you were already thinking inappropriate thoughts. You imagined it was his fingers softly touching the inside of your thigh, squeezing your breasts and playing with your nipples. The first time you moaned his name quietly, your cheeks heated up. But the more you thought of him, and the more you allowed yourself to wish it was him between your thighs, the more natural his name sounded between your whimpers.

And the two of you didn’t stop there. You might haven’t had time to hang out with him for another week or so, but you were texting each other more than ever before. Almost every night, you sent pictures to each other. With every passing day and every time you came thinking about his body on top of yours, you became more comfortable. Your messages to each other turned dirtier with every day and every picture was a little riskier than the previous one. By the way you cried out his name every night, your neighbors must have thought you had gotten a new boyfriend. One that was exceptionally good in bed, by the sounds of it.

Now it was exactly one week and a day after you had first sent him a picture of you. You had just stepped out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around your body as you entered your bedroom.

One could’ve thought you were going to be less horny, the more time you spent texting him about your inappropriate thoughts. It should have gotten less exciting at some point, shouldn’t it? To you, it was the complete opposite. He was all your thought about at night. So when you noticed your phone on your bed, you couldn’t stop your urge. You grabbed it, unlocked it and went straight to your messages with him.

You: please tell me you’re alone

H/N: yeah I am…do u need something?

Even though his text might have sounded innocent to anyone else, considering what you had done for each other all week long, you instantly got excited.

You: I have a present for you but since you’re not here I’ll unwrap it for you

H/N: I love presents

You had taken multiple photos. Starting from your with a towel covered body, you had slowly revealed more skin to him, until you had dropped the fabric completely. In the last picture you were covering your nipples with one hand across your chest, making sure your slightly parted lips were in the frame as well. After you had pressed ‘send’, you got comfortable on your bedsheets, not so patiently waiting for his reply. You hadn’t been able to get him off your mind while you had been showering. Now you didn’t even need to touch yourself to know how dripping wet you already were.

H/N: this is what you do to me

You were surprised when you saw his message. He had attached a video. Up to that day, it had only been photos you had sent to each other. So, when you clicked the ‘play’ button, you almost felt nervous. But the nervousness changed into something wholly different within the first two seconds of the video. His hand was down his pants, clearly stroking himself. He wasn’t speaking, but even the simple sound of his breathing behind the camera made your head spin.

H/N: do you want more?

You: I wish you were actually here

A blink of an eye after you had sent the message, instant regret hit you. Had you crossed a line? There had never been serious talk of the two of you actually hooking up, although you surely had thought about it more than you wanted to admit.

H/N: me too

You sighed in relief. So he wasn’t thinking you were going too far.

H/N: but its late and we’ve got work tomorrow

You barely had time to even think about a reply. The sole fact that he was seriously considering coming over or letting you drive to his place right now only justified the saying “People want what they can’t get”.

You: you’re right…this will have to do

…

H/N: let me know if you need more

But you already had your hand between your legs, his name on the brink of falling off your lips.

The next day, you were surprisingly focused on your work. Of course, you thought of him. He was your best friend, after all. Who would you have been if you didn’t wonder what he was up to or if you didn’t wish he was having a nice day? But that was about it. No dirty thoughts, no random sexual frustration at 2 in the afternoon. That was, until your phone vibrated in your pockets and you opened his message.

H/N: wanna hang out at my place tonight?

It was finally Friday. After over a week of not seeing him, you didn’t just want to meet him because you wanted him sexually. You missed his silly jokes and the way he made you feel careless after a stressful day. So, needless to say, you agreed.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Were you just going to hang out, the way friends do? Were you even going to mention your texts to each other? Your nerves were going mad when you drove to his place in the evening. It was a weird feeling to have about your best friend, you had to admit. But then again, you had every right to after the past week.

When he opened the door for you, you didn’t feel half as awkward as you thought you would. His hug felt the way it always did, and his room still was like a second home to you.

“Do you wanna order take out?” he asked.

“What’s in your fridge?” you returned the question.

“If I’d have to guess I’d say two eggs, half a bottle of soda and some yogurt,” he said. You laughed, already pulling up an app to order some food.

“Take out it is,” you grinned, falling onto your stomach on his bed. He followed your example. His shoulder was touching yours while you tried hard to focus on scrolling through the different offers of meals. But your look was drawn to his hands too close to yours and from one moment to the other, your mind was flooded with sinful pictures. You thought of him here, in this very bed, jerking off to the thought of you. Taking pictures of himself so you could do the same. Too many times you had imagined your face buried in his pillows, letting him hear the way you had been crying his name all week long, being able to make him cum with your own body and feeling his lips on your skin. Was he thinking the same things right now? Was he also struggling to focus on the simplest tasks?

“You’ve been looking at that chicken for a while now. Are you gonna order it or not?” he asked, making fun of you. How were you going to sit here, waiting and then calmly eating your dinner as if nothing was different? When you didn’t reply, he grabbed your hands along with your phone, making you look at him. You couldn’t instantly read his expression. All you knew is that in six years of friendship, he had never once looked at you this way. Inevitably, your eyes went to his lips and back to his eyes.

“Aren’t we going to mention this whole nudes-sending situation at all?” he suddenly asked, grinning cheekily. “What? You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?”

You swallowed thickly. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

“How badly I wanted you last night,” he said. His face was close to yours. If you only bent forward slightly, you could kiss him.

“As in…now you don’t want me anymore?” you asked. He chuckled.

“Do you really think I didn’t want to push you against the closest wall and make out with you the second you stepped into my house today?” he asked.

“Then why didn’t you?” you asked, smirking and inching your lips closer to his. “Because I would have loved that.”

Instead of answering you, he finally leaned in to connect your lips. Within the first seconds you were moaning, and his tongue was on yours. You abandoned your phone on his sheets, swinging one leg over his waist to straddle him. He groaned into your mouth when you pushed your hips against his, your crotch rubbing over his bulge. Judging by the way you both reacted, neither of you had plans to take this slow.

His hands wandered over your sides and to your ass, squeezing it a little. You only moaned again, your fingers getting busy with his button up shirt. Teasingly, he bit your lip while he pushed your shirt higher, goosebumps rising on the skin he touched. His breathing became heavier when you let your hands roam his chest, pushing the fabric of his open shirt to the side eagerly. When you rolled your hips over his bulge again, you felt his erection more prominently than before, making you smile to yourself. For a moment you pulled away and pulled your shirt over your head.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he confessed, watching as you discarded your bra onto the floor.

“Me too,” you agreed. He had sat up as well, and you helped him remove his shirt eagerly. “I’ve been wondering what your hands feel like.”

At your words, he pulled you back on top of him, playing with your breasts softly. You reacted, leaning over him, so he could take one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered at the way his tongue pressed against your sensitive skin. He gave the same attention to the other side, his breath leaving behind a cold sensation where he had kissed you.

Then, you bent to his level again, lips meeting in a needy kiss. You let his tongue lead yours for a while. Meanwhile, your hands sneaked to the waistband of his sweatpants. He hissed into your mouth as you grabbed his length through his pants, palming him through the fabric.

“Are you still into biting?” you asked, referring to a late-night talk you had had in the past. He smirked, nodding. Softly, at first, you nibbled on his neck, occasionally licking and kissing him. You got the exact reaction you had expected when you bit him, not to harshly, but probably leaving a purple mark nonetheless. He moaned and threw his head back, only exposing more of his neck to you. As time went on, you made your way down his chest and his stomach, settling between his legs. As much as you enjoyed hearing his moans and attempts to make you hurry, you were just as impatient, if not worse.

In one go, you pulled down his pants and underwear. He lifted his hips so you could fully take the clothing off his legs. Your mouth watered at the sight of him below you.

“If you had told me two weeks ago, I would be sucking your dick today, I would have called you a clown,” you chuckled.

“Look how the tables have turned,” he said, laughing with you. But his expression hardened the moment your hand wrapped around his length. You stroked him a few times, before lowering your head. Your tongue licked a stripe up the side of his shaft, until you opened your lips just enough to take his tip into your mouth. He cursed under his breath when you batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Why? Don’t you like it?” you asked, your hand continuously touching him.

“I like it maybe a little too much,” he said, only making you grin. His expression read pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips hung slightly agape.

“There’s no such thing as liking something too much,” you said. Purposely, you watched his face when you wrapped your mouth around his cock, tongue pressing flat against the tip. Steadily, you bobbed your head, your hand covering the rest of his length. His thighs were flexing under your hands and his stomach was rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. He propped himself up on his forearms, watching you intently.

“This feels so much better when you do it,” he said, followed by a groan when his cock touched the back of your throat for a moment. Your hand was covered in your saliva by now, eyes tearing up a little bit, but you blinked the tears away quickly. Every time you pulled away a little, you made sure to swirl your tongue around the tip. Right away, you had noticed the way he hissed at that specific action. Again, he cursed under his breath and you made eye contact once more. His lips looked pink from where he had been biting them and his cheeks were slightly flushed a rosy color.

“Oh my god-,“ he moaned. “I’m so fucking close.”

You bobbed your head faster now. After another few seconds you pulled away, replacing your mouth with your hand. The muscles on his stomach were tense and he had his hands balled to tight fists next to his body. You enjoyed his moans for a while longer, before you could feel him twitch in your hands. When he reached his high, he let his body fall back, his arms no longer able to hold himself up to watch you. The evidence of his pleasure spilled onto his abs and you slowly let your hand come to a rest. One of his hands was swung over his forehead as he breathed heavily. When you looked up at him again, he still seemed exhausted but was grinning from ear to ear.

“Give me a second and I’ll return the favor,” he said, sitting up. At his words you realized once more how much you wanted him. Quickly, he cleaned himself up. As you rolled over to lay on your back next to his sitting figure, you yawned briskly, getting comfy in his sheets.

“You’re bored? If you want we can also just watch a movie, or if you feel like-,“ he said with raised eyebrows.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” You sarcastically laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “I’m open for whatever. Right after you’ve made me cum on this mattress.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, turning so he hovered over you. “I think we can arrange that.”

He went straight to kissing your stomach and hips, while he unzipped your pants for you. His kisses tickled you a little, but the sensation was quickly forgotten by how close his hand was to where you wanted him most. In order to let him take off your pants, you lifted your hips a little. When he had thrown your pants aside, he couldn’t hide the cocky grin on his face at the sight of your underwear.

“This looks familiar…where have I seen these before?” he asked innocently, placing his hand on the material. You flinched a little when his fingers hovered over your center. It was a fleeting touch, but the lack of attention had made you needier than you would have thought.

“Imagine I hadn’t accidentally sent you that first picture,” you said.

“I don’t even want to imagine that,” he said, his dramatic tone making you laugh a little. Abruptly, your laugh turned into a whimper when he pressed one of his fingers against your covered clit.

“I get that you’re in no rush anymore, but I’m not gonna lie, I am,” you said, wriggling against his hand. He chuckled again but seemed to obey your request. His hand slid into the hem of your underwear, fingers instantly coated in your juices. In response, you only hummed contently when he curled his digits against your clit. Within seconds you relaxed into his touch. You put one of your arms under your head and closed your eyes for a while. Now and then, he teased your core by almost pushing his fingers inside of you, but then not doing so. As frustrating as it was, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. With skill, he rolled your clit between his digits. His free hand pulled on your underwear slightly, but not quite enough for it to come off. You whined at his teasing, looking into his eyes with a pleading gaze. He watched your expression for a while, probably enjoying the fact that he finally had the real you underneath him, instead of having to stare at some photos on his cellphone. So he finally obliged, making you feel empty when he pulled his hand out of your soaked panties, but simultaneously thankful.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined doing this within the last week,” he said. Then, he lowered his head and took your clit into his mouth. You had only opened your mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be deleted from your brain before they had time to come out, replaced by empty curse words. He didn’t waste any time in taking it slow, but you couldn’t have minded less. When he inserted to of his digits into you, your toes curled in pleasure and relief. With the way you whimpered desperately whenever he curled them against your walls, he had found your sweet spot in almost no time.

For more than a week you had been imagining, demanding for his touch, so deeply that now you could barely think straight when you finally got what you wanted. His tongue could do so much better than your own fingers could ever satisfy you. It was the unpredictability that made this so much more enticing than when you touched yourself. Would he slow down for a while, giving your breathing time to calm down, only to suck on your swollen clit feverishly out of nowhere? Would he curl his fingers inside of you almost painfully slowly, or would he almost pull them out completely, only to slide them right back into your core, until your vision felt so blurry you had to close your eyes? The more you thought about how good he made you feel, the quicker you felt your orgasm approach. One of his hands softly stroked over your belly, a strong contrast to the way your insides seemed to tie themselves into a tight knot that took up all your attention.

“Oh my god- please don’t stop,” you only moaned. Of course he didn’t. He only hummed against your center, only adding to how incredible you felt. As much as you loved watching him between your legs, there was no force that could have kept your eyes from shutting anymore. Your back arched off the sheets and your hands tightened in pleasure when the familiar feeling washed over your mind. You whimpered and struggled hard to keep your legs from closing around his head. For a few seconds you were blinded by the bliss, until your sensitivity began to set in. You softly pushed his head with your fingers in his hair, and he slowed down and drew back.

It took you a while to come down and until your breathing had regained its normality. Your eyelids fluttered open, while he plopped down next to you. He swung one of his arms around your waist, an action he had done multiple times in the past – only now neither of you was wearing clothes.

“That was amazing,” you said. “And here I thought I’d forever regret sending you that photo.”

He chuckled. “Agreed. So, what do you say? Are we able to focus on what to order for takeout now?”

You nodded and laughed, hoping this instance wouldn’t be the last time this happened between you two.

2K notes · View notes

sondepoch · 3 years

Text

Want | Scaramouche x Reader

Scaramouche + “You make me want things I can’t have.”

You don’t need Scaramouche at all—don’t need him, don’t need his men, don’t need any of his diplomatic connections to achieve the goal the Tsaritsa presented before you with. Still, you can’t help but want him.

MASTERLIST

Request a character or a ship and I’ll write a drabble for you ^^

The worst part is that Scaramouche actually respects you.

It’s something everyone in the Fatui knows by now: that you’re the only Harbinger he can tolerate, the only Harbinger he’s willing to work with, the only Harbinger he respects enough to invite to these little strategy missions.

It’s the highest honor one can receive from a man like Scaramouche, who’s known best for his averseness to all encounters that don’t directly benefit him. And yet, it’s nothing more than that: a distinction in his mind between the incompetent and the competent, useless and the useful.

You simply happen to fall into the latter category.

You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“And I was also thinking that as soon as we’ve set up enough microfinancing loans, we could start to move into the city. Get the towns on the outskirts used to Fatui presence, and then hit the Inazuman capital with our people just as they’ve begun to hear of us. The only problem there is that we’d need to combine our forces if we want to effectively disperse our agents, which would leave us open to attack…”

You tune the man out, barely paying attention as he continues on about infiltration tactics.

After all, it’s not the Fatui you care about.

It’s him.

“But I suppose getting a third Harbinger involved would only complicate the situation, since we’re the only diplomats who’ve ever been sent to Inazuma. Which would mean…”

“A third Harbinger wouldn’t need to be involved in our diplomatic operations,” you say, interrupting the man. “Assume that your and my forces completely focus on intelligence within the city. If we bring a third Harbinger in, we can keep them excluded from the operation and tell them to solely focus on keeping guard to protect us from attacks.”

Scaramouche hesitates when he hears your idea, and then his face breaks out into the rare, thankful smile that you joined the Fatui to see.

“Of course,” he says, bringing a glass of wine to his lips as he leans further back in the chair. “As expected of someone as strategically inclined as you.”

You can only smile, grateful that the man you adore is giving you a compliment. The fact that he only likes you for your brain is a thought you refuse to entertain.

“You’re too kind, Balladeer.”

“Only because you deserve it,” the man says, something flashing in his eyes that could be counted as less-than-innocent, though you know by now that it’s nothing you can pay attention to.

“Well, my efforts would be useless without your men,” you respond, bringing your own glass to your lips as you lean back in your armor, letting the thick metal clink against the chair when your back hits it.

“Nonsense. Your mind is sharp enough that a loss in resources wouldn’t hinder you.”

“That’s…” true.

And that’s probably the worst part of all.

You don’t need Scaramouche at all—don’t need him, don’t need his men, don’t need any of his diplomatic connections to achieve the goal the Tsaritsa presented before you with. It’s a painfully obvious fact given your track record: near-perfect except for the single blemish that forced you to join the Fatui in the first place—but the Tsaritsa has always known that your blunder was intentional, that there was never any flaw in your plan, that you consciously outed yourself as Snezhnaya’s most wanted thief so you could get closer to the mysterious enigma that was the Sixth Harbinger.

Yet, as you sit in his room, drinking his wine at his table to concoct a battle plan to work around his men, you’re no closer to the man than when you first joined.

Or—perhaps that’s a lie. Perhaps you know more about him now than you did before.

After all, back when you didn’t know him, you believed him to be a pretty man with a penchant for draconian punishment. Both true, except that now, you know that he’s already been promised to another—and that Scaramouche, the Balladeer, Sixth of the Eleven Harbingers, is someone who would never stoop so low as to cheat.

Yet, he respects you.

Or rather—he respects your mind.

“Something wrong?” Scaramouche leans forward with a hint of vague concern in his eyes, and you hate how you know that it’s that: vague concern, distant and hazy because your relationship doesn’t warrant any actual care.

“Nothing, Balladeer. Just thinking about a plan I’m going to present to the Tsaritsa tomorrow.”

“Ah,” he hums, not bothering to ask because he knows it’s likely confidential. “Well, you should relax. I doubt that your plan has any flaws, and even if it does, the Tsaritsa will trust you enough to allow you to execute.”

“Right.”

“No, I mean it.” Scaramouche offers you another rare smile, pushing the glass of wine closer. “People need to indulge every now and then. Even Harbingers. You’ll be better off if you give in to what you want.”

It’s out of character for him to look out for you like this, but you accept the glass regardless.

“There’s no point,” you mutter, gazing at your wavy reflection in the deep red liquid. “I want too much. Can’t have it all. There’s a reason I got caught for stealing.”

Not quite the reason he must be thinking, but yeah, the reason does exist.

“I’m sure you can steal whatever you want if you try hard enough.”

“Easy to think,” you mutter, taking a long sip. “But some things aren’t a matter of strategy.”

“Oh? Pray tell, who could be standing between you and what you want?”

Your expression turns bitter, turning into what has to be a sharp glare as you let out all the resentment that has been festering from years of being nothing more than a distant friend to Scaramouche.

“You. You make me want things I can’t have.”

Scaramouche’s smile doesn’t change at that, and your heart sinks when you see how he doesn’t even think to ask what you mean.

He knows, you realize, staring hopelessly into his violet, unchanging eyes. He’s known.

God, that’s embarrassing. That the man you’ve been obsessed with since you joined this wretched organization knows you like him, knows you think about him day and night, knows you’d do anything for him—and he never bothered to say anything.

How humiliating.

This is rejection, isn’t it? This is his way of telling you to crush your hopes and move on because this is as far as you go: being an aid to his strategy, nothing more than a tool to advance his success.

You stand abruptly, not even sure what you’ll say in your shame when you head out—but, then you remember what he said earlier—and things begin to feel different.

I’m sure you can steal whatever you want if you try hard enough.

Your devastation turns incredulous, and you suddenly think about how you first learned that Scaramouche was engaged through some table talk among the low-level recruits. You’d believed it at the time, but Scaramouche is the kind of ass to spread those rumors so suitors won’t approach him, right? He’s the kind of man to consciously put up a distant facade to keep everyone he doesn’t like away, right? And he’s been inviting you every other night to talk about bullshit strategy you couldn’t care less about, keeping you close, if anything, and—

Ah, fuck.

Your face changes as you continue to stare at Scaramouche, trying to dissect his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. Alas, it’s useless: he wears the perfect poker face, lips curled as he waits for you to make the next move.

Hesitant, you take a seat.

He does nothing in response, though you swear his grin widens the slightest.

And so with no encouragement but the unbridled courage of adrenaline running through your veins, you open your mouth and say things you should have said long ago.

#Word Count: 1.4k #gender neutral reader #fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact balladeer #sixth harbinger #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #scarymouche #angst with a happy ending??#i think #idk if this even qualifies as angst lmao #it's fluff imo #idk i just imagine scaramouche's relationships to be very cat-and-mouse in the early phase #as demonstrated by this #hope you like it ^^

376 notes · View notes

kirishoshego · 3 years

Text

Slumber Party//RumixHawks

!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Happy Eastern everyone! This is a little easter special and who better to choose than Rumi aka Bunny Hero Miruko? I usually don’t write about people with an animal quirk, so this is my first time and also the first time writing about a female character :)

Inspo: Slumber Party by Ashnikko

Summary: Hawks invites you to the annual Hero Eastern Party where you caught Rumis eyes and because Hawks was too much of a chicken to ask you out, she decided to have some fun with you.

TW:nsfw: lots of oral sex (everyone is receiving), unprotected penetration, lots of titty play, some sort of voyeurism, getting caught, threesome, chocking, hair pulling, spitting, a bit of manipulation/corruption, slight dirty talk, teeny bit of praise (calling you a good girl)

At first you were a bit hesitant to accept the invitation of Keigo when he stood in front of your doorstep with the letter in his hand.

“If you don’t want to that’s totally fine! Take your time to think about it. Just know, it would make me really happy if you decide to join me on friday,” he told you with a beaming smile.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, absolutely not. You would love to meet all the great Pro Heros, some more than others. The problem was, you didn’t know why-out of all people he could have asked-he asked you. So far, the two of you had been friends, nothing more, nothing less. There were a couple of times where you weren’t 100% sure if he was flirting with you, it was obvious, really, but maybe you just wanted him to flirt with you. But who could say no to the charming bird, a hint of a blush on his cheeks while he scratched the back of his head.

“I would love to, actually,” you let him know, taking the fancily decorated piece of paper from his hand. “Awesome! Great! I mean, cool. I will pick you up at five?” “Sure, no problem,” was this a date? Should you ask him? Or did he just invite you because you knew how interested you were in the Hero Agency? “Wear something red, i’ll wear a red tuxedo so we match,” he called to you as he already walked away.

Filthy imagines of Keigo in a red suit filled your brain, his hand adored by golden rings roaming over your body, his golden orbs burning into yours while he fucked you in the car before you went in, wanting to mark you as his, let you know your his. But you weren’t. Not yet.

A soft knock on your door pulled you away from the lengthy mirror reflecting your body cladded in a red dress. It was dead on five o’clock, as if he waited in front of your door, counting down the seconds to be here on time, not a minute too late nor too early. Opening the door you were met with one of the most beautiful men on earth, waiting to escort you. His suit color matched with his wings perfectly, the black shirt underneath adored by golden details. The smile was quickly knocked off, shock now written all over his chiseled face. “Wow, Y/N, you look... stunning,” he complimented you, not being able to take his eyes of your beautiful frame. “Thank you Keigo, so do you,” was all you could say, your mind occupied with picturing his shirt on the floor while he fucked you from behind. “Shall we? The others are waiting for us,” your eyes fell on a limousine parked in front of your home, windows tinted black, making it impossible to see who else was inside.

While walking up the car Hawks informed you that Fat Gum, Mt Lady and Miruko would be riding with you and you felt your anxious the closer you got. “Don’t worry, they are all very nice. Most of the time...” he assured you, before opening the door for you, being greeted with warm welcomes. “So you’re Y/L/N Y/N? We’ve heard a lot about you,” Toyomitsu said when you sat down next to him, noticing Miruko’s eyes taking in every inch of your body. “Yeah but bird boy never mentioned how gorgeous you are,” added the tan woman sitting across from you, making you blush. “It must have simply slipped my mind,” he said, giving her a warning glare across the vehicle, his hand suddenly on your thigh. She smirked at him before turning her attention back to you, who currently thanked Taishiro for a piece of the cookie he was munching on. “Y/N, how did someone like you get in contact with our Pro Hero #2?” asked Yu, a hint of jealousy on her face, earning a slight jab to the sight from the woman next to her. “What? She isn’t a hero and he basically has no life besides the agency,” “As far as you know Takeyama,” Hawks was suddenly rather tense, he thought the Heros would show a bit more etiquette in front of a stranger. “We met a couple of years ago when she was a waitress in my favorite restaurant,” he shortly explained, his grip on your leg tightening. He already wasn’t in the mood for the party and endless speeches, he had no time for this. These parties always brought some danger with them. So many Heros on one spot? Perfect target for an attack. If he hadn’t helped Endeavour with the safety system and checking it himself afterwards again, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy your company in peace. Mt Lady warmed up to you after you gave her some compliments on her dress and appearance in general, telling her the hero work she had done was impressive. Not once did Miruko’s eyes leave you, much to Hawks dismay. He may or may not accidentally let it slip that she was one of your favorite heroes and he knew about Miruko’s recent break up with her partner, meaning nothing could hold her back if she decided to make a move on you. Also meaning he had to tonight, which he planned on anyway but now he knew his feelings for you were real, otherwise he wouldn’t feel as territorial about you the way he did. Hawks simply won’t leave your side tonight, that’s it. When arriving at the party paparazzis where everywhere, police trying their best to keep them all behind the lines, some fans could be spotted in between them, yelling out every name of whatever Hero was appearing. When Hawks stepped outside the madding crowds attention was on him and him only. Cameras tried to get the best picture of him to sell to the biggest magazines, but his focus first was on you, taking your hand as you stepped outside the car, the others following close by. “Please wait here for me,” Hawks told you before walking up the crowds, talking to his fans, signing whatever they gave to him, the best he could with the security keeping a close eye on them. “Come on, you can wait for him there, it’s so loud here,” said Miruko, her hand at the small of your back, sending shivers up and down your spine while you looked at her through your lashes. “I’m not making you nervous, am I?” she asked with a small smirk and a certain glim in her red eyes, a strand of her white hair falling in front of her face. “Great, then let’s go inside,” she waved to some fans, posing for a few pictures with you next to her before stepping into the big hall flooded with warm light emerging from the massive golden chandeliers hanging from the tall ceiling. The floor was made out of marble tiles, a red carped rolled out and smaller ones leading to every room on the long floor. You could spot Best Jeanist talking to Aizawa in front of the golden door that lead to the party about a student named Bakugo. Music was blaring through the speakers as you enter with Miruko, no less than Present Mic being in charge of the music. “So... You and Hawks. Is that something serious?” Miruko asked you, taking a glass of orange juice from the tray a waiter offered the two of you as you took a glass with your favorite beverage. “Oh, we’re just friends, nothing more, I’m single” you told her, checking behind you to see if he walked in already but no sight of him so far. “Good to know,” she smiled at you before asking her next question. “What are you currently doing? Hawks mentioned you-” before she could finish her sentence a red wing cut appeared between the two of you, attached to it a rather unpleased looking Keigo. “I thought I told you to wait for me, I’ve been looking for you,” he told you, glaring at the rabbit behind his wing who looked at him innocently. “Sorry Keigo, it was just so loud,” you apologized, adding: “But I was in good company the whole time, nothing could have happened,” you tried to calm him down, a warm smile on your face as he grabbed your hand into his, pulling you away rather rough. “I want you to meet everyone,” he told you, looking to Rumi over his shoulder, shaking his head while she sipped on her juice. You talked to every Hero possible, all that matters was that Hawks could keep you away from Rumi. Rabbits weren’t hunters, not like Hawks, she should know not to try him, he thought. But then again Usagiyama wasn’t like the rabbits he knew. She knew she can get whatever she wants and wasn’t afraid to let anyone know either and if she played her cards right she would be able to get you. Something he doesn’t like to think about. It was 7.30 p.m when Yamada turned the music down, the attention now turning to him. The blond activated his quirk, letting everyone in the room know: “Dear Ladys and Gentleman, dear Non-binary, today we want to celebrate Eastern, thanking each and everyone of you for keeping us save and sound from all evil. Also of course, a big thank you for those not being able to attend as they are on patrol today, keeping their eyes out for any danger. Special shout out to Endeavour and Hawks for making sure we’re save in here as well. Speaking of our Heros, the top three prepared a speech for us, will you please step up here and let the guests hear what you have to say?” The three of them walked up to the stage, applause erupting from the whole group as they made their way up, the spotlight on them, but Hawks’ eyes on you. While Pro Hero #1 held his speech he kept you in his sight, watching the entrances every now and then just in case. Once in a while he would also try to find Miruko and he wasn’t happy when he noticed that she slowly made her way over to you. She whispered something into your ear and he could see that whatever she told you got you flustered, your eyes now leaving him as you looked at her. “...Hawks speech...” was all he could read from your lips and sure enough it was finally his turn to say something. He tried to keep it as simple as possible, his wings itching, hoping this was over soon enough so he could return to you. Before he could leave the stage Endeavour’s large hand held him back, a stern look on his face. “Don’t you dare walk away now, have some manners,” he warned him, making the winged man huff in annoyance. As he stepped besides Enji his eyes fell to where you were standing just mere seconds ago, all that was left an empty spot. His phone bussed, once twice. He knew it was the Rabbit considering she was no where in sight. Best Jeanist of course took his sweet time and the longer it took the louder Hawks imaginary clock was ticking. You on the other hand were enjoying yourself a lot. Rubi had let you to her hotel room that she has rented, it was far up and you enjoyed the view over the city. “We’ll go down there when the buffet is open, don’t worry. Hawks will understand that we left, neither one of us is really enjoying these things,” she told you, watching you taking in the view, while she was enjoying hers. “Y/N, I have heart a rumor, can I ask you something about it?” the woman behind you spoke up, making you turn around, noticing the way she licked her lips, biting on them softly before letting go. “Of course, anything Miruko,” the way she was watching you made you tingle. “Great. Hawks told me that I’m one of your favorite heroes, is that true?” she walked closer to you, her hips swaying from side to side. “He told you?” it was embarrassing to know that Hawks would tell her about the little crush you had on her, why would he tell her? To tease you? “He said was that you were excited to meet me,” ‘oh’ was all that could leave your lips at this point, wanting to die on the spot. “That’s nothing bad darling, the opposed to be exact. Taking that in consideration, you want me to be happy, right?” her voice was sultry, her body now right in front of yours while her hands once again returned to the small of your back. “Yes,” you whispered, her thumb tracing your agape lips. “That’s a good girl. If I tell you it would make me happy to kiss you and taste you, you won’t say no, right? You’re save with me, I’m #5 after all,” you could feel her breath on your lips by now, knowing that as soon as her thumb will leave your lips her mouth is on yours. “Yea,” your breath hitched when she pulled you flush against her, feeling her chest press up against you, heat radiating off of her. She smelled amazing, you noticed, a mix of her own smell with her perfume. Without another word her lips crashed into yours. Sitting down on the velvety arm chair that was placed in the corner of the luxurious room, she pulled you on top of her while her tongue slipped into your mouth. Her hands traveled up open your dress, letting it fall loosely around your waist. Once your chest was exposed to her she could do whatever she wanted to. Warm hand cupped your right tit, massaging the soft skin, thumb circling over your erect nub. You clenched your legs around nothing, feeling your pussy craving for attention, to be touched and played with. Moans slipped past your lips, making her push her cladded, muscular thigh between your legs and giving you some friction where you most craved it. It was hard to hide how badly you needed more, trying your best to move your hips without her noticing, but failing miserably. “It’s okay darling, you can grind on my thigh if you wanna,” she remarked against your puffy lips, captured once again in a wild kiss. You were slowly grinding yourself down, her other hand on your hip, holding you down while every now and then bouncing her leg to hear you whine and huff. Her fingers were now pinching your nipples, circling around them, Your hips circled on top of her thigh, going up and down, feeling a knot build in the pit of your stomach. Miruko noticed how you pushed down harder, your hips going faster. She decided to help you out, letting go of your lips and wrapping her plum lips around your other side, sucking and flicking her tongue over your your mouth sensitive spot. Red eyes watched you through thick, white lashes, the way your mouth fell open as soft moans tumbled from in between them, the way your eyes were almost shut close, pleasure written all over your face. “Gonna cum for me? All over my thigh? I bet you thought about this a hundred times already huh? Just wait til I really do something, I’ll give you the best cunnilingus in your life, something Hawks can only dream to give you,” the combination of her thigh rubbing against you and the attention she gave your tits send you over the edge within seconds, loud moans making the white haired woman wet, ready to eat you out before pleasing her. She moved your hips against her thigh, making you ride out your orgasm before tapping your ass to signal she wants you up. Your dress now fell down completely and she helped you step out of it before leading you to the bed, pushing you down on it. Putting on a little show for you while getting herself undressed you couldn’t wrap your head around how fucking beautiful Miruko was. Her arms flexed while she pulled her shirt off, hair swaying when the top was gone completely, covering her chest a bit before she opened her white lace bra, her boobs springing free and all you wanted in that moment was to play with them, lick them and please her. When she bend down to pull off her pants she made sure you had a good view on her ass, watching it jiggle, the muscles in her legs flexing as she stepped out of it. Rumi crawled up to you, her hips between your legs as she kissed you again, now trailing open kisses down your body, stopping at your boobs once again, sucking them, sharp tongue spelling her name across them before continuing her way down, hands gripping the thin fabric covering you up pulling them off of you slowly. Before she gave you what you were begging for, she bit and sucked your inner thigh, enjoying the way you huffed in annoyance, body tensing up every time she would halt in front of your glistering pussy. One time she blew some cold air onto your clit, making you jolt a bit in surprise. Just as you were about to beg again she licked a long strip from the top to the bottom, wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking on it. The way she performed french on you turned you into a moaning mess. Every now and then she dipped her tongue into your hole, collecting your wetness before returning to your nub. The beating of big wings made you open your eyes and you sat up in shock, your eyes meeting pissed of golden orbs. Miruko pulled away from you, a string of saliva still connected to your cunt. “How nice of you to join us,” she told him, a smirk on her lips. “What a coincidence your window was left open,” he remarked, climbing through it. “That wasn’t a coincidence,” she let him know, pushing your hand down as you tried to cover yourself up. “And your texts? ‘I've been picturing her naked ever since you showed us a picture of her’ and ‘she looks like a fucking painting, something I’ve been praying for, thank you for bringing her, you’re a true wing man?’What about those? And when you send me the picture with your hotel room number?” “Well, I was simply hoping you would join us, it’s eastern after all, there is no better pair than a rabbit and a little chicken, wouldn’t you agree? And just look how needy she is. It would only be fair if we take care of her,” the both of you could see Hawks’ dick harden while his wings puffed up a bit, before sitting down onto the same chair Rumi made you cum a few minutes ago. “Show me your talents then, let’s see how fast you can make her cum,” he told the woman between your legs, opening his pants and pulling out his throbbing cock. You watched how spit on it, wetting it so he can wrap his hand around himself, slowly pumping up and down. Of course she didn’t need to be told twice, her tongue spelling your name between your legs, pushing two fingers into you. Curling motions send waves of pleasure through your body. You didn’t know where to look, watching you getting eaten out or Hawks basically fucking himself on the arm chair. He wasn’t massive in length, bigger than what you were used to definitely, what made you gulp was his thickness. He couldn’t even wrap his hand around himself completely, how would that ever fit into you? The man caught you as you eyed him or rather his meat in his hand, raising his eyebrows. “What? Wanna have a taste?” he asked you and all you could was nod, another moan of yours filling the room. “Sit on Miruko’s face then,” Hawks ordered, making the tan woman stop for a moment to turn on her back, pulling your right on top of her again so you sat up straight, not giving you a moment to catch your breath. The feathered man stood up, his clothes joining the pile on the floor. Stepping on to the bed he made sure he could balance himself against the wall to stand still. Next thing you knew was his hand in your hair making you look up to him as he spit into your mouth for some extra wetness, shoving his hard cock down your throat without a warning. Nothing was able to hold him back from fucking your in pleasure twisted face, the moans you tried to let out thanks to Miruko sending vibrations through Keigo’s shaft. Tears mixed with mascara ran down your cheeks, trying so hard to breath but the way he pounded into you made it impossible. The hand that wasn’t inside of you found its way back to your tits so she could play with you again, feeling you clench around her hard. Another orgasm came crashing down, legs shaking as Hawks pulled out, letting you basically scream out a string of curse words, catching your breath. “Isn’t she such a good girl? Letting us fuck her however we want to?” he praised you, holding your cheeks between his hand. “Should have seen how she fucked herself on my thigh,” Rumi told him, thumb wiping across her lips before sitting up, pushing the now wet finger into your mouth so you could taste yourself. “Want a taste?” she asked Hawks, pulling him in for a kiss as she pushed her tongue past his lips, letting him taste whatever was left of your juices. “Delicious baby, can’t wait to have a taste later,” the naked man let you know, pulling you to him by your hair, both of their eyes on you. “Now it would only be fair if you let Miruko cum too don’t you think? Don’t worry I’ll fuck your needy little cunt,” Hawks delivered a small slap to your clit followed by a small moan of yours. He pushed you down onto the mattress, pulling you close to him by your thighs, his dick dipping into your entrance but pulling out again, teasing you as he stroked up and down slowly. “Stop teasing Keigo,” you whined, buckling your hips up to get him into you more but he only swatted your thigh, leaving a pink spot behind. Agonizing slow he pushed past your opening, pressing in little by little into your velvety heat. His shaft was unbelievably thick, stretching you out just right, making you feel stuffed full. “Please,” you whined, your pussy throbbing, needing more, craving for every inch of him. “Please what?” he asked you, raising his eyebrow, pushing in further. “Please fuck me,” you sounded so desperate, so fucked already, how could he say no to this? Never would he deny you his dick. Throwing your legs over his shoulder he pushed in balls deep, waiting for Miruko to be comfortable. Your hands clasped her thick thighs, nails digging into her skin as Hawks started moving, slowly at first to let you adjust to his size, watching you lapping at the heat of the strong woman on top of you. Her face twisted up in sheer pleasure as you showed off your tongue skills below her. “That mouth is heaven,” he groaned, earning a nod of agreement. “Fuck... Especially when she moans, you gotta fuck her harder, she likes that,” she panted, eyes rolling in the back of her head for a short moment. Hawks hands on your legs tightened, surely leaving marks behind in the next morning as he picked up his speed, pounding into you harder, his balls slapping the swell of your ass every time. This caused your moans to turn louder, the vibration that were sent to Miruko’s clit even harder now. The dark hotel room, only illuminated by the moon light and a small light at the door, was filled with some of the filthiest sound you ever heard, your sweat and perfumes mixing, every now and then a breeze of fresh air slipping through the open window. Hawks was close to releasing his load inside of you, watching you eat out another woman almost making him lose control. And Miruko was close as well, feeling the knot on her stomach almost ready to be released and he could sense that, dipping down to lick her tits, sucking and playing with them. The new surprising sensation made her push herself more onto you, while you continued to lick her wet cunt, making her release all over your face. After she came down from her orgasm she pulled away from you, letting Hawks have full control over you. He took this opportunity to wrap his hand around your throat, his lips now on yours, tasting the other hero. Your thighs were pressed flushed against his chest, your knees on his shoulders and your ankles locked behind his head. The new position made him hit your g-spot over and over again, grunts of him filling your ear. “You like that, don’t you? Getting fucked by the two of us? Two of the worlds biggest Pro Heros having their way with you, what a dirty little girl you are,” he groaned into your ear. He tightened his hand around your throat, cutting of your blood flow as he made you look into his face. Keigo had something taunting on his face and the look got you clenching around him. “You’re close aren’t you baby?” he asked you, a ‘yes’ falling from your lips as nothing more than a tang. ”Let everyone know who you belong to, let them know you’re mine, mine alone,” he growled, eyes on the woman walking into the small hotel bathroom who simply winked at him, mouthing ‘all yours’ before disappearing. even though you thought it wasn’t possible he put all of his energy into the next thrusts and you screamed out his names as you came around him, legs shaking against him, eyes watery and head completely fucked. Hawks followed moments later, the snaps of his hips turning sloppier before completely halting, making you feel his dick throb inside your wet walls. Keigo pulled out of you slowly, letting your legs gently fall down, making sure he didn’t choke you too hard. His hands caressed your face while you were in full bliss. He could hear Miruko turn off the shower, stepping outside in nothing but a small towel around her figure. “How about you sneak some food up for us, I don’t think any of us are really in the mood for the party anymore,” she said, her eyes falling onto your still shaking frame. “Sounds like a plan, I will be back in a few, you got this?” he asked with a smile on his face. “Oh yeah totally,” With that he got dressed as proper as he could, flying down again to grab a big pile of food for the three of you while Rumi helped you cleaning up, letting you borrow one of her big shirts she packed.

225 notes · View notes

nishigo · 3 years

Text

an anomaly. // bennett x reader.

a page from the book of memories.

[ p a g e 3 2 9 ｡ ]

authors note: hello! this is my first ever attempt at something for genshin impact. this is longer than i expected, and there may be errors here and there, so i am sorry about that in advance. i do hope you will enjoy it though. i got bennett yesterday after rolling and although many say he’s annoying...he’s very much like me in real life. coincidence? i think not. Σ('◉⌓◉’) i also rolled a girl named keqing. she seems nice, and is a five star, but i don’t know if she’s rare. i truly don’t know how this system works, apologies. T^T anyways, traveler, happy reading. (*'▽'*)

word count : 2191

tw : none that i can think of. very much fluff. and perhaps a touch of a flirty!reader. :)

request status at time of posting : open.

in which he had finally someone who could balance out his unluckiness.

would you like to read?

＞　行｡ ( y e s )

＞　不行。( n o )

———

Bennett was, to put it simply, confused.

He had just finished a mission with you, being your support the whole entire way through. There had been an offering that had been posted on the tavern’s walls in dark, smudged text that caught his eye at an earlier time. It read that whoever could get rid of the new pop-up hilichurl camp that blocked the path to Liyue would receive a grand sum of Mora. Course, running low on money, Bennett had decided to take up the offer. They would be easy enough to take down, just a simple slash of his sword and a few burns here and there could get the job done in no time. However, there was a problem.

No one would come with him.

Bennett knew that he was very...loud. And he was energetic. And annoying. And, though he hated to admit it...he was unlucky.

Everything seemed stacked up against him. Everyone he turned to in the tavern took a simple glance at him and rejected the offer with no further questions asked. He would try to convince them, but they would simply get more annoyed at his stubbornness and shoo him away with a flick of a hand or some splash of beer to the face. It’s not like he could take the older adventurers out either, they could barely walk on their own two feet. They were so old that they certainly would have shriveled up in the sun if he brought them along. So there that option went, leaving him with practically nothing else to turn to.

But then, if he had no one to go with him, what would happen? Would he continue to be stuck in that tavern? No, he wouldn’t allow himself to waste away like that. He was meant to be out there, in a world that could supply him with the thrill and rush that his heart yearned for. The boy desired to be just as great of an adventurer as the ones who came before him, or perhaps, dare he dream, even greater than them. Bennett desired to be a legend. But being a legend could not be done alone, even if that was what Bennett determined he would forever be, deep in the back of his brain.

Which is why you were such an anomaly.

You were the last person he spoke to that night. He was a complete mess. His shirt was damp with beer and some white wine, his white locks were a birds nest with the goggles sliding off slowly, and his eyes looked devoid of life as he took a deep inhale and they brightened up again. This was his last chance. You were the one who was either going to make or break this plan.

“Hello stranger! I am the great Bennett, and I was wondering if you would be able to help assist me with a mission that was posted on the tavern walls. It’s about the hilichurl camp by Liyue! Although I am rather strong, I need some help so it’s done more efficiently and faster. I’m even willing to split the Mora with you that we make out of it! What do you say?” Bennett recited his lines again, as if he was in an interview of sorts. His leafy green eyes watched as you scrunched up your eyebrows, as if thinking and examining him. Your face was blank other than that, lips in a straight line and hand cupping your cheek. Bennett found it to be quite terrifying. It was such an intimidating look, in fact, that he was about to ask you to forget about it before you spoke first.

“Sure.” You stated simply, a smile forming on your face as you crossed your arms.

“Ahhh, understood, I’ll get goi- WAIT!” The pyro boy turned to look right at you as he gasped. His face was one of shock morphed with a cute, ecstatic look. One could compare it to a puppy of sorts. You were not meant to say yes. You were meant to be like everyone else and reject him. He was dumbfounded as he grabbed a hold of your shoulders and tilted his head.

“You’re not joking?!”

“Course not! Why would I do such a thing?” You rebuked before he giddily jumped up and down while pulling you up to a sweet hug. It was a gentle and firm one, though, he pulled away quickly after realizing he still wreaked of alcohol. You told him you didn’t mind it though, making him rub the back of his head sheepishly and laugh. You two would converse for the night, agreeing to meet up at the gate the next morning so he could lead the way to the camp and also split the mora gained evenly. After the small chat, you would leave the tavern to stay at the local inn for the night and get some rest. Bennett’s eyes were trained on you as the door then closed, realization hitting him like a truck: he found someone. He found a real person to take on a mission. Better yet, they were as gorgeous as they were strong. This was better than any dream he could have made up. Bennett decided he had to turn in for the night soon after you left, taking a spot in his cozy bed under the sheets. His eyes closed as the curtains rustled at the soft wind that blew through the window. The pyro’s last thought before going to bed was that he truly hoped that you would fulfill your end of the deal and show up.

And you kept your promise. You were there as the morning sun rose to reflect your beautiful skin, hair flowing gently in the light breeze as he ran up to you and froze. You looked powerful now that you were out of the tavern and he could see you properly. You had on your adventure gear, dressed appropriately for a mission that required taking out many enemies. What caught his attention, though, was your white cape with golden accents that flowed from behind. Flicking your hood down and off your head, your face was now fully visible as you watched him stare. He was adorable, like a little baby who was just discovering the world for the first time.

“You’re really gonna do this with me?” Bennett asked in wonder. His face was blank as a smirk landed itself on your features. You positioned yourself to stand upright, away from the wall you were leaning on as you held your weapon of choice in your dominant hand. As for the other, you outstretched it towards him with a grin.

“Lead the way.”

Bennett didn’t even have to think twice about it as he eagerly took your hand into his own gloved one and began to lead you out of the city and into the wilderness. He seemed to be very hyper from what you could tell, as he couldn’t seem to stop commenting on how he was destined for greatness, or how thankful he was that you were going to come along with him. He also bombarded you with questions about yourself as well, like if this was your first time in Mondstadt or what kind of element you had control over. He was easily excited, but especially when you told him that you were a traveler that had been moving around place to place to see the sights of the world. It was why you were so strong, you had defeated a wide range of enemies, great and small, on your journeys. Bennett was fascinated by that, drawing him to be more and more curious about you. Alas, the questions and storytelling had to wait. You two had arrived at the camp, and it was time to take some enemies down.

You two ended up making a fantastic duo of sorts. With his sword and experience, he was able to cut down enemies with ease. You did the same, your speed and agility outmatched as you two basically made a massacre out of the camp. His fire would spread through the long grass, and with the natural wind, spread quickly to begin burning it all down. You were quick to come to his aid when he would sometimes get backed against the rocks or a tree, helping him heal with some quick magic you had learned. It wasn’t anything special, but it was enough to keep him up and moving. With such precision and perseverance, your duo was able to defeat the camp with relative ease. However, both you and Bennett were still tired from fighting for so long. You two were out of breath as the fire died out, heaving for air as you gave him a head pat and grinned.

“You did amazing out there. You’re a talented pyro user as well, I’m impressed.” There you went again, making him all confused as he sat there. You just complimented him. A powerful traveler, that has practically defeated every sort of monster there is out there, was impressed by him. Bennett, the unlucky, was impressive? For the first time, he was rendered speechless as he looked at you. It was now night, the moon high in the sky as it illuminated your face. Oh goodness, you looked ethereal. The way the stars were reflected in your eyes, the way the gold of your cape sparkled and flowed behind you, the way you smiled at him, like he was the most handsome boy you had ever seen. The only thing that stopped the comfortable silence between you two was the fact that he shivered when a breeze brushed against his pale, scar littered skin. You snapped out of it and looked him up and down, noticing how a lot of his skin was exposed to the chilly night.

“Here, take this.” You told him as you unbuttoned your cape, taking it off your shoulders. With one swoop, you draped it over his own figure, being as gentle as possible as you buttoned it up again. Bennett was reduced to continuing to stay silent as you clothed him. You placed the hood up on top of his head, a hand on your hip as you grinned at him. It was a bit big on him but nonetheless, it was rather cute. You used your other hand to take his chin gently, making him look you in the eyes. He was rather happy that the hood cast a bit of a shadow, because his cheeks were flushed a hot pink as he was forced to look at you.

“Huh. Looks better on you than it does me.” You commented before he seemed to regain his ability to speak.

“You need this more than me! I-i’m literally a pyro user, I c-can heat myself-” You hushed him, letting go of his chin as you put a finger to his peach pink lips.

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t waste your energy to heat up, especially since we have to walk back to town. I’ll be fine, I’ve been through worse weather situations.” He glanced down at your finger, and then back to you as you dropped your hand and began walking down the path again, back towards the city. Why did you have to be so, so...enchanting? And you were so smooth as well! He had never been so flustered when talking to someone, heck, he was the one who was meant to be doing most of the talking! Though, he supposed that him being talkative didn’t equate to being able to flirt. But something about the thought of you leaving made him pout. It was as if the butterflies were leaving his stomach, but they left him emptier than before.

Bennett refused to be lonely anymore. Not when he had you.

“Hey, darling!~ Would you stop standing there and staring off into space? I know I look wonderful tonight, but we gotta get a move on! We won’t be able to get to town and rest our weary bones if you keep this up!~” You called out to him, making him shake his head and refocus. Right, a bed. Sleep did sound rather good right now, along with a shower and something to quench his thirst. He ran and caught up to you, walking by your side as he grinned. He began to already ask about other missions that the two of you could do together, like gathering supplies for the alchemist or helping around the town for some spare Mora here and there. Bennett then stopped for a moment again, looking at you.

“Would you like to work together again?” There was a moment of silence before you nodded.

“I think I would. We make a great team.” Bennett then continued walking with you, as if time didn’t just stop for a second as he went back to his usual, bubbly nature. The more he thought about it, the happier it made him. More adventures to be made. More memories to be created. All with you at his side the entire time.

And you would make all the difference.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin oneshot #genshin bennett #bennett #bennett x reader #bennett x reader genshin impact #genshin impact bennett #genshin x reader #aaaAAAAA ITS OUT-#flirty reader? i think yes.#i hope you all like this #maybe kaeya next?#anyways i hope bennett isn’t too ooc #sorry if he is ;3;#hao’s library #the book of memories

458 notes · View notes

kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

Yellow, Black, Blue and Warmth

Kanene’s note: I am very proud of this sdfghjqswerty.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic. ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Toshinori with Ler!Hizashi + Ler!Aizawa. Platonic or Romantic. Around 4.500 words.

* This has mouth tickles (raspberries, nibbles, tickly kisses...), teasy nicknames, use of the spotlight system (green, yellow and red) and baby talk. If there is anything that needs to be tagged just lemme know!

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Tell someone that makes you feel safe how much they matter to you. If you want, no words are needed. Sometimes just an emoji or ‘this reminds of you’ is needed. Don’t forget you’re especial to someone, as well. <33

[~*~]

“W-wait!”

His arms twitched on their position above his head and, not for the first time, he felt himself starting to lower them in a desperate urge to hide his flaming face adorned by a soft, uncontrollable kind of smile that only a few people in the world could claim the happiness of seeing.

A warm hand rested on the right side of his ribcage and nails positioned themselves under his toes, two playful gazes looking at him, warningly.

“Let’s-” a quiet gasp escaped from his lips when he tried to make a placating gesture with his hands and lowered them further, making the nimbly fingers start to wiggle restlessly on his spots. “I aham sure we can think another solution for this p-problem!”

Goosebumps ran freely across his body in a wave of warm and excitement as the concentrated, evil black eyes blinked lazily at him, their owner not dignifying himself with an answer before he shoved his face back on the right side of his stomach, nuzzling and humming calmly, his nose exploring, drawing shapes on the ticklish skin, the adult being extremely careful and attentive enough so every vibration seemed to buzz on every and any of his so, so sensitive nerves, leading his back to arch with the unbearable sensation and the “attacker” to smirk in his quietness.

“I-I beg f-for you to reconside-eek!” He squirmed harder as a low ‘oh’ was pronounced, trying - with not nearly all his strength, if he was being honest, but no one needed to know that - to dislodge the other adult from the newly found sweet spot right next to his hip, which was currently being rustless attacked with soft, barely there kisses that, no matter how much he buckled, refused to move. “Please, please. Yohou don’t have to d-do this!”

His barriers were starting to crumble, quiet sounds beginning to find their way out of his firmly pressed lips, red growing more on his face as an awed cooing researched his ears and the long, awfully long nails lightly scratched the arch of his feet, making themselves known. They prodded, scribbled and danced skillfully across his sole, circling the weak spots that, for the way the blonde’s grin widened every time he stumbled in a new one, wouldn’t be forgotten that easily.

And then Toshinori giggled.

That was when he realized he was doomed.

“Aw, but I do think we do! Who wouldn’t want to hear more of that cute laughter of yours, my dear squeaky listener?”

“Hi-hizashi-san!”

“Yes, my wiggly wiggley bear? What is the matter? You seem rather smiley today. ~” Hizashi sing-sang, an only one finger focusing at that lovely spot right under the ball of his feet that made him squeal in a poorly hidden delight, his laughter starting to overcome his titters. Especially as Shouta decided to be a little more hands-on and weak, almost maddening touches were spidered on Yagi’s right side, not helping at all the flow of high pitched squeaks escaping from his mouth. “Does that tickle? Huh? Does that tickle tickle tickle you so much that it makes you want to give us all that amazing squealing squeals and cute yelps? Aw, isn’t that so kind of him, Shou?”

“You think that after so much hero work the Symbol of Peace would have gotten at least a bit of a resistance.” Aizawa pointed, not bothering to lift his head so his words wouldn’t be muffled as they hit directly Toshinori’s tummy, not even a drop of remorse on his tune as his act made the aforementioned to crackle, kicking as a series of ‘nonono’s filled the room. “Don’t you agree, Toshinori? Just a few well placed tickles here and there and then All Might would be begging for mercy in a few seconds. Tsk. So ticklish, so helpless, so cute.”

Aizawa didn’t call them cute often. He did, however, reconsider his choice when his gaze quickly locked on Yagi, a nice feeling bubbling in his chest with the other’s half whine, half giggle, his wobbly, happy smile almost disappearing under all the blush that consumed his features.

“Right!” Yamada experimentally squeezed his calf, beaming when a guffaw answered him, the leg tugging halfheartedly on his grip, arms hugging himself to not push them away. “But that is no problem! We are teachers, after all. Teachers very capable of teaching him how to increase his endurance, and I think I have the perfect idea of a lesson to help him.”

Yagi was dying. Part of himself wanted to flee away from all the attention, all the warm, caring touches and compliments and that absurdly insufferable sensation that still tingled his body even now, when Shouta and Hizashi stopped to loom over his form with matching evil smirks, making it almost impossible for him to not hide his face and curl in a silly, rather giggly ball.

The words of the previous finally sank in his mind and he fiercely shook his head, not trusting his own mouth and trying to not let the amusement he felt blooming on him to drip on his move.

“Awesome! Thank you for agreeing, tickly listener. It’s amazing to know you’re also as eager for this just as we are!”

“But I did not-” A true shriek cut his words as Aizawa dug his fingers on his armpits, resulting in a sea of wild giggles to overtake him. The tickles being mean enough to be able to completely dissolve his protests, although also the right amount of light so Yamada’s teasy words would still be able to be heard above him.

“So!” The Voice Hero clapped joyfully, getting even more excited at the other's reactions. “The best way to be prepared for any situation is to train! Practice! You need to be prepared to all resist to any and every trickys tickly tickle technique that exists, which means scribbles, scratches, squeezes, kneads, nibbles, nuzzles, kisses, spidering, nursery rhymes, and ooooh, of course, raspberries!” Hizashi nodded once, determined.

“I can’t!” Yagi threw his attempts of forming entire, coherent sentences out of the window, his brain basically short-circuiting on Hizashi’s first examples. “Please, please, I swear! I cahahan’t!”

“Oh, don’t worry my dear sweet, squirmy listener, it’s really a lot of work to do... But! You will not be doing it alone! Me and Shouta will be here cheering and helping you for hours and hours and hours until you master the whooole lesson. And," the blonde got closer, lowering his tune until his words were just a breath on Yagi's ears, teasing the sensitive spot no matter how much he shrugged and shook his head. "If you get something wrong all we need to do it's just start aaaall over and over again, right, Shou?!”

“Oh gohod.”

“Of course, I don’t waste my time with someone who doesn’t have potential.”

Aizawa’s predator smirk and tone maybe would be scarier if it wasn't broken by Yamada’s loud cooing, the taller coming back to his previous position as he rested a quick squeeze on Shouta's hip, fishing a surprised snort and a warningly glance from the black haired man, who, on his turn received an innocent whistling as an answer. Toshinori chuckled in amusement at the scene, gratefully taking the breather.

“Better be careful,” Yagi’s tune was innocent, with a titter dropping here and there, still, a dangerous shine gleamed intensely on his blue eyes, “so that lesson won’t backfire on you in the future.”

Aizawa stared at him, the tip of his lips curling in a barely there grin that heavily contrasted and complemented Yamada’s dramatic gasp in betrayal.

“Very well.” Eraserhead said, positioning himself on top of his legs, successfully pining him on the mattress. "Let's take care of any riot that might happen right now, then."

Suddenly, All Might senses all the confidence he felt not a few seconds ago to transform in butterflies flying in despair on his stomach. Shouta’s shadow stood above him, the usual bored expression plastered on his features as his face lowered closer and closer of the blonde, stopping just a few centimeters from his ear.

Toshinori held his breath in anticipation.

“Green?”

Something… something he couldn’t really nominate melted in his heart and for a moment he forgot how words worked.

He really loved them both so much.

“Green.”

Shouta chuckled.

"Good." He adjusted himself, resting their foreheads together and capturing those blue eyes to himself. "Giggles, titters, whines… every sound you make I will be able to hear clearly so be very, very careful and don't laugh.”

Toshinori gasped when the feeling of skilled hands, scratching and kneading his side shoot through him. The offending fingers danced slowly, taking their time on each weak spots before switching to another one, a bit too close of his stomach or his spine, completely oblivious to how Toshinori's chest already shook with trapped sounds. Toshinori realized, maybe too late, how their new position prevented him to perceive where Aizawa would attack next, every time the black-haired hero changed his target to an unexpected spot adding a tear in his barriers, the squeaks and crackles getting stronger and harder to contain.

“So, sweetpea, how would you rate your ticklish experience from one to ten, so far?” Yagi couldn’t help the way his body twitched and squirmed involuntarily at Yamada’s voice, his imagination unhelpfully whispering that, at any moment, any moment now, Hizashi would give up from his purely verbal teases and be touchier. “One being ‘That Is All You Can Do?’ and ten being ‘This Is Everything I ever Dreamed About Please Don’t ever Stop?’”

“P-p-lease!”

“That is not a number.” Aizawa observed, jumping in his friend’s teasing at the same time he stopped, thinking about something until his eyes shone. His voice was velvety, almost as a purring. “But that can be helped. Here, I will refresh your memory.” A finger pressed on the lowest rib on his right and the blonde’s eyes widened, a snort flying from his lips, his head shaking from one side to other, a pleading gaze.

“Wait! Aizawa, please, wait! I will do anything!”

“What.” Suddenly the finger was replaced by the whole hand shaped as a claw, the spot where it touched tingled in anticipation. “Did you call me?”

Aizawa was adamant about very few things, actually.

Hizashi chuckled darkly, free of any pity, next to him. “I think he is asking for it, Shou.”

Do not mess with his cats. Do not mess with his kids. Do not wake him up. Do not eat his jelly porches and, of course, if he gave you the permission to call him by his first name, use it.

“No, no, no! I meant! I meheheant Shouta!”

Of course, except for the first two, he didn’t actually care that much for when the others were ignored by his close friends, but - he curled his fingers, watching as Yagi continued to squirm and snicker at every twitch of his fingers - that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have his fun with this slip.

“And also,” again, Yamada pipped in, “he just giggled, didn’t you just said him to not laugh?”

“I did.”

“Please! Anything! Anything you want! Just name it! I will givehe you anythihihihing.”

Aizawa adjusted himself so his lips would rest on Yagi’s neck, he sighed deeply, relaxed.

“Then give me your laughter.”

And he started.

The fingers dug on his spot, prodding and scribbling in attacks which danced in a perfect synchrony with the fast nibbles assaulting all the sensitive skin he could reach, expertly dodging from all the trashing, the attacks seemingly to only be fueled by his shrieks.

“An autograph!” loud, booming laughter exploded, snorts and an intelligible mix of half English and half Japanese painting his words stumbling and falling nonstop from his mouth. Yagi lost track of what he was saying the moment a raspberry was placed right under his chin and the hand tased his side, vibrating and vibrating and vibrating there for what seemed an entire eternity. “Rare merchandise! My house! Anything, I swear, anything but this!”

“Oh my god.” Hizashi braced himself on the wall, his conflicted heart torn between cooing and teasing the other for how much adorable he was being and giggling in joy with his funny reactions. “Oh my god. Shouta, please, don’t ever stop tickling him, this is the most precious scene I witnessed in my whole life.”

Shouta felt tempted to agree, however, after a couple of minutes, he stopped, shoving his face on the other’s shoulder to hide his own soft chuckles, being accompanied by the residual, bubbling giggles. They waited until his breath became steadier before the one with black, deep eyes stared at the watery, gleaming blue ones.

“Shoutahaha…”

“Just one more spot, okay?”

Toshinori closed his eyes, nodding before trying to hide his expression under his hands, being stopped by Yamada, who took each one of them gently and gave a kiss on his knuckles, lacing their fingers, knowing very well Yagi wouldn’t attempt to pry them away like this.

“No hiding your beautiful face, remember?” Yagi wanted to huff in annoyance at the unprompted tease, but it was being said with such lovely care that he couldn’t help but melt under it, especially when Shouta began to bombard the place behind his ear with kisses and small raspberries, descending him in quiet titters and silent laughter sprinkled with sporadic guffaws.

After a few more of kisses, tickles and fast, inaudible giggles he ceased his attack, giving a last nibble on his ear before getting up from him, letting the Symbol of Peace recompose himself between his blush and gigantic smile, offering a cup of water when his laughter stopped to fly across the room, all of them enjoying the silence as Toshinori drank the liquid, thanking Shouta.

“Green?” Hizashi asked, stepping a little closer, a shy grin on his lips.

“Oh my… Why do you have to make me say that?” Toshinori squeezed their hands, huffing and deviating his gaze. “Green.”

The blinding smile that was sent in his way seemed to have enough shine to light up the whole house. “Let’s jam!”

The Voice Hero tried to untwine their hands kindly, blinking in surprise when the other only held them more fiercely. He tried again, same result. Behind them Shouta snorted, amused.

“Giggly bear, my sweetpea, you will have to let go of my hands.”

“Absolutely not, you will attack me.”

Yagi stared at him with a challenge in his face, daring the hero to do something about that.

“Well…” Hizashi winked playfully. “I always have my mouth, and, you know? That wiggly wiggley yummy tummy of yours seems to be asking for a couple or maybe a dozen of raspberries… ~”

“Wait, no!” Toshinori squirmed, instinctively sucking his belly. “Don’t!”

“Aw, but that is such a pity! I was thinking about being a bit merciful today, you know? Maybe some skittering under your knees, being sure to give enough attention to every inch of both of them, I mean, we don’t want anyone feeling left out of the fun, of course! Then I would give one or two squeezes on them, a swift under your wiggly wiggley toes, a few scratches on your squirmy feet and voilá! A happy, silly, giggly Yagi ready to go. But, well, now I believe I don’t have another choice except place all the mean raspberries aaaall over your unprotected stomach and sides and ribs and sides and neck and ribs and-”

“Stop, stop!” Toshinori let go of his hands in order to hug his tingling torso, curling in a defense ball, trying to stop the feeling of the imaginary tickles. “J-just get over it!”

“Aw,” Hizashi placed a kiss on his temple, smiling softly for a piece of moment before letting it turn into an evil grin. “Your wish is an order, my adorably ticklish bear.”

He positioned his hands in each leg, grazing his nails from the bottom of his calves and lightly scribbling their way up to the wonderfully sensitive spot under his knee, taking his time to draw spirals and rivers on the skin, being very content to feel the other squirm under his touches, huffs of laughter puffing from his lips. “Hey, Toshi, can I ask a question?”

“Fuck,” he squeaked when an unexpected pinch was placed on his hip before Hizashi innocently continued his previous attack. “Y-you may.”

“Right! But, first of all, let me take care of this two...” Yamada smiled, completely unfazed as he sat on the bed, holding both ankles and lifting before resting them on his shoulders. “There you go, squirmy toy! All comfy and unable to wiggle away from my curious, tickly fingers!”

“He is going to kick you.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, getting closer until he could get a firm, yet gentle, grip on Yagi’s ankles, truly preventing him from moving them. “Here. Now ask your question.”

“Thank you, babe.” Hizashi relished on the way Aizawa’s ears were painted in red before beaming again at Toshinori, who kept trying to pull his legs away from his predicament, and seeming to take the fact that he wasn’t laughing his head off as a personal offense. He rested his hands on his knees again, one of them squeezing them skillfully while the other scratched the sensitive skin underneath it. “So, Toshinori, what do you think it tickles more? When I squeeze, squeeze, squeeze those adorable ticklish kneecaps or when I tickle tickle tickle them silly?”

“No, no, no!”

“No?! Aw, I am afraid that isn’t really the answer I am looking for, darling… But that is okay! Do you know what I am going to do now, Toshi? Huh? Do you know?”

Yagi just shook his head, knowing pretty well that anything said would just fuel the evil words dripping freely from the other’s mouth.

“Not even a guess?” He changed his technique to lightly tease with plentiful of scribbles the sensitive spot with just the tip of his fingers. “An itsy bitsy tiny guess? Awn.” A fake pout adorned his face. His fingers ascended a bit more, now tormenting the thighs, their owner smiling wide as the squirms began to get stronger, drawing circles around the little weak spots he knew that would fish the wildest laughter. “But I will tell you anyway! Because the Tickle Monster is feeling very kind today. I am going to get those sensitives calves riiiight here!”

“Hizashi!” Yagi tried to pull his legs again, his giggles becoming more frantic as he realized they didn’t even buckle from their spot. “I can’t. I promise you, I can’t! Hihihihizashi!”

“But I do think you can! I believe in you, Toshinori. You’re such a strong, nice tickle bug. I think you definitely can take some good cootchie-coothie-coos right here!” He poked. “And here” Poke. “And here, and here, and here, here, here!”

Suddenly a sea of pokes - just that, just tiny, harmless, quick pokes that shouldn’t be able to make him feel even more ticklish than he already was - assaulted his calves, some surprising pinches and clawing also making an appearance and disappearing just as fast as they came.

“Shut up, please, shut up!” Throwing his head with loud, squealing chortles, Toshinori pleaded, his mind overtaken with how much it tickled and how unbearable it was and how amazing all of this felt.

“Gasp! Toshi! How can you say that? The Tickle Monster thought you loved his teases. Why would you want them to ever stop? Do they make you feel more ticklish? Huh? Do they? Do all my silly teases and tickly attacks make the big, strong Yagi Toshinori become a very lovely and adorable mess of those cute sounds? Huh?”

“Don’t you think how great would it be if we just stayed like this forever? Me, here, playing with you and your awfully helpless toes,” at the mention of the new spot Yamada changed his target, making the other to arch his back and shriek in belly laughter as fingers attacked under his toes, tickling and digging unmercifully at every single one of them. “and hearing this wonderful laughter! Don’t even make me start about your laughter! It is music to my ears.”

When nothing but a series of snorts and loud laughter answered him, the blonde decided to stop his tickles, slowing them until his warm hands just rested there, peacefully.

Toshinori wiped the single tear that traveled to his hot cheek, just a quick glance in Aizawa and Yamada’s general direction being enough to make his giggles start a-new.

“I am not even doing nothing to you.” The tease couldn’t be helped, especially as his giggles got stronger and, consequently, quieter.

“Your hands!”

“My hands? What about them?” Hizashi shouldn’t be allowed to feel that much smug nor powerful.

“They’re just…” A flow of intelligible noises fell from Yagi’s lips, and he decided to try again. “They’re just there! It tickles!”

“Now, it does?”

“I would never have guessed.” Aizawa deadpanned, watching as the other wiggled and squirmed in protest.

“Right? I mean, they’re just chilling there. No moving, no tickling and Toshinori attacks them like that! I would feel wounded, but I guess he is really just a very ticklish giggle bug. Shouta, what are we going to do? The lesson clearly isn’t working… Oh, I wonder if there is something I could do to stop tickling him...”

“Just take them off there!” Yagi gasped when the fingers started to skitter around his ankles, another newly discovered sweet spot that erupted a new round of snorts. “No!”

“I don’t think there is anything that can be done. We could just stop and stare at him and he would be laughing uncontrollably in three seconds.” Aizawa remarked.

“He is just too much sensitive, ya know? Just an itsy bitsy touch and you get him all giggly and blushy.”

“Am nohohot!”

“And helpless too. Cute and helpless.”

“Shouta, plehehease, let me go!”

“Yean, absolutely.” Hizashi agreed, shaking his head with fake sadness, a tiny grin blooming on his lips. “I guess this is our fate, Sho, to hear him laugh and squeal and snort and giggle-giggle-giggle at anything we do.”

“A pity.”

“Enough!” Both stopped, hearing the light of tiredness painting Yagi’s tune. “That- haha, that is enough, please.”

“Yellow?”

“Red.” Toshinori smiled, feeling yet too shy to find their gazes with his. “I'm just an old man with one lung.”

Hizashi snorted, offering him a bottle of water and heading to the kitchen to make his special tea - after all, no one knew a better recipe for tired throats than the Voice Hero himself, - and Aizawa just rolled his eyes, sitting on the mattress and massaging his feet, a calming gesture that helped both to relax as they enjoyed the silence with the phantom laughter and reminiscent giddiness that still ran on their veins.

“Shouta,” Toshinori lightly hit the other’s thigh with his free feet until the black haired one turned his attention to him, not even slightly prepared for the soft, incredibly soft, expression and gleaming, energetic eyes which found his. “Thank you.”

Aizawa scoffed, quickly trying to brush off the warmth engulfing his heart and smile that tried at all cost to appear on his features.

“It was very… enjoyable.” Toshinori pressed further, tipping his head to the side in an attempt to see his expression. “Your technique is very effective! You don’t rely a lot on verbal teases but the way you can mix different attacks and keep track of which spots bring the most reactions is very impressive! Not to mention-” A squeak broke his thoughts when a mean squeeze was delivered on his calf, Aizawa huffing before massaging the local to make the tingles go away.

“Continue with this and I will not be above ganging up with Hizashi to wreck you, again.”

“If it’s Complementing Eraserhead hours and you’re being too stubborn to accept the deserved nice words I think it’s very clear who I will end up helping.” Hizashi remarked as he got into the room, distributing the tea before squishing himself between them, almost spilling the drink as a warning tickle on his stomach made him jump.

“Hey!” The one being called just quirked an eyebrow at him, almost challenging. Hizashi just shrugged. “It would still be worth it.”

“Yagi,” Toshinori blinked, surprised at being pulled on their usual bickering, staring Aizawa above the rim of his mug. “Analyses about Hizashi as the ler.”

An inhumane screech flew from Yamada’s lips. “Don’t you dare!”

When he was over, sneaking one and other praise for Eraserhead here and there, they were all laid on the bed, limbs entangled due both the magnetism that seemed to pull them together and the fact that if it wasn’t for it, Yamada would have already fled from the room on the shine of Yagi’s first word.

“I don’t like you.” The one with long, blond hair complained, grumbling when his sentence only made the others snuggle closer, snickering. “None of you. You’re both very mean and dirty traitors and I am going to scream.”

“Don’t.” Aizawa slurred from somewhere behind Toshinori, his tune showing he was almost asleep. Hizashi, who already forgave them for their “betray” searched for his waist, resting his arm on it and very lightly scratching the base of his back, a spot he knew would make the underground hero absolutely melt. Toshinori captured his free hand, coming close and humming softly as his finger traced the lines on his palm.

Soft. Good. Warm.

At some point of the conversation, someone had turned the television on, and for a few pieces of moment the show playing in the background was the only thing that filled the silence.

“Hey, Toshi.”

“Yes?”

“I know you don’t like a lot of attention when the tickling is over but… thank you.” A quick kiss was delivered on his forehead, happy to see no trace of discomfort on the other’s features, only a tiny, timid smile. “Thank you.”

“Go to sleep, Hizashi.” And then he kissed his knuckles, just like Hizashi did back then, and Shouta murmured something, pulling them closer and Hizashi smiled and the television started to grow more and more silent.

“Ok.”

After that, everything was soft, good, warm.

[~*~]

Inspirations!

* That entire AllEraserMic tickle series that I absolutely live for

* The teases from the fanfics of that amazing author

* A very especific post about cute reactions when the lee is being tickled but I can’t find it so please enjoy Onion’s blog (the op) instead. His blog is gold.

#The warnings makes this looks more serious than it is sdertyuioiuyt honestly they're just tickling each other and having fun xDD #Lee!Yagi #Ticklish!Toshinori #Lee!AllMight #OKAY BUT HE DESERVES ALL THE TICKLES #Ler!Aizawa #Ler!Yamada #Ler!President Mic #Ler!Eraserhead #bnha tickles #bnha tickling #Kanene's Fic #Kanene's Fanfic #if someone knows which post from Onion I am talking about pls send the link I am begging u #/lh #This is so soft I am dyiiing #long boi post #mouth tickles

83 notes · View notes

haztory · 3 years

Text

𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. (1)

--iwaizumi hajime x f!reader; fake/pretend dating, mutual pining, third year characters, confident/no-nonsense reader, puppet master oikawa, ocassional cursing, other than that no warnings!

--summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was more than content to not be at the receiving end of the hordes of fangirl's attention.

But when they all suddenly devote their time and love to him, he can't help but quickly want an out. It's Oikawa's suggestion- a good one at that. Get a girlfriend to scare them off.

And what better than use you, Iwaizumi's best friend with a long standing crush on him, to play the role.

a/n: this is my first haikyuu fic! i did not expect it to be about iwa considering im a huge daichi simp, but that’s what listening to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani and browsing through pinterest does to the brain, ig. please let me know if any characters are too ooc, as im still trying to get them down.

other than that, enjoy! messages are always appreciated.

(w.c. 4836)

masterlist | next chapter

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, the entire female student body deduces with fanatic agreement one blessed afternoon. His shoulders are broad, skin rippling like waves breaking on rocks under the movement of his muscles. His stomach is firm and taut with the lining of his abs and his pectorals are considerably large enough to have every single girl in attendance foam at the mouth. And as he raises one— bulging — arm to wave sheepishly to the widened eyes of the crowd, his thick and veiny hand on full display, a collective moan is heard throughout the building. It has the poor boy ducking his head downward even further.

The fundraiser arranged to cover the expenses of the volleyball team’s traveling to away games exceeded its initial goal (that of which the all-female led student council was greatly responsible for) resulting in the entire team parading themselves around the cafeteria as a reward for the students’ commitment to the task.

Shirtless.

And while attention from the female population has usually always been paid to the star setter, Oikawa Tooru and all of his addicting charm, his absence in this mouthwatering and delectable ceremony has allowed for the ace and vice-captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team to shine. Oh, and shine, he has.

Within a mere five minutes, the fiercely devoted and militant fanclub belonging to Oikawa has suddenly converted— briefly, they insist— to the groupies of Seijoh’s Vice Captain: powerful ace, leader of offense, total hottie.

The attention increases tenfold from that point on. Suddenly, Oikawa is no longer the only one receiving love confessions numerous times on a daily basis (much to his chagrin), but instead is sharing the spotlight with his best friend, who is more than uncomfortable with the unexpected shift in notice. He was never ecstatic at being labeled as ‘Oikawa’s number two’, adamant that he was his own entity despite the intricate intertwinement with his best friend, he was, in fact, totally fine with never being hounded by girls at every minute of the day. Sure, the attention would be nice, occasionally.

But this? This is outrageous.

This is the tenth girl today to have stopped by his locker, a pink flush encompassing her face as she sticks her hands out to present something to Iwaizumi. It’s tupper ware, decorated in a pink bow with his name written in cursive on the top accompanied by some cute glitter stickers. That would make this the fourth container he’s received this morning, and as much as the whole act fills him with a deep dread and hesitation, he doesn’t have the heart to reject her gift. Especially when her hands are shaking so hard and she’s stuttering every other word out.

So he puts on the standard smile, the one that he’s seen Oikawa pump out a hundred times a day but fails to meet in equal warmth and charm, and thanks her graciously and sincerely— even though he’s not that big a fan of milk bread and this is the third one he’s going to have to shove into his locker.

He bows to her with an awkward smile, “Ah, thank you, uh…”

“H-Hina!” she shouts, her hands slapping upward towards her mouth after the outburst. The pink flushes deeper on her skin, and Iwaizumi has to wonder what exactly is going through the air for a girl to have this kind of reaction to him. He hasn’t changed, hasn’t developed a new attitude that should have girls swooning at his feet. He’s the same as always, stubbornly so. He is Iwaizumi Hajime, hardass, avid monster movie watcher and the usual second thought. He supposes he should feel somewhat elated at the long-awaited recognition, but he can’t shake off the feeling that this is all incredibly unwarranted.

It's a surface value attraction. They're not really swooning for him, just the idea of him. That stings a bit more than he’d like to admit.

“Hina,” he affirms with a gentle nod, bowing his head in gratitude, “Thank you for the treat. I will, uh, treasure every bite.”

He doesn’t mean it to be anything charming (because he’s not) nor even remotely romantic (because it’s not), it’s just what he comes up with at the top of his head, but Hina starts to shake and a watery smile spreads across her face when she hears it and he knows he’s made this whole thing much worse. Before he can even awkwardly ask if she’s alright, she bows hurriedly again before running off with a shriek.

It's then that he’s sure Oikawa is one sadistic motherfucker because there is no way anyone mentally sane could take that reaction as a compliment. There’s an intense guilt that settles in his stomach for the rest of the day for causing a girl to tremble like that.

Curse the student council for that stupid fundraiser award. He would much rather walk to every away game than have to go through another day of this.

He opens his locker again, placing the container in there amongst all the other ones and the numerous handmade cards declaring affection. He closes it with a sigh. He can only hope that this phase of adoration is reaching its end.

Quickly.

It does not end quickly.

It's month three of endless confessions and Iwaizumi is about to lose his mind. Word spreads about his favorite kinds of teas and sweets (which he is sure Oikawa is directly responsible for) and his locker starts to resemble a mall kiosk more than any part of school property. The outside is decorated with stickers and taped with more love cards and he’s pretty sure someone found out his combination (again) because there are balloons floating out of it.

It's a circus. One that Mattsukawa and Hanamaki repeatedly laugh about every time they see it.

He would like to indulge in the acts or at least make some kind of peace with the situation, he really would. He’s always fantasized in passing about the pride and specialty one must feel at being the center of female attention, having seen it and thwarted it first hand from Oikawa’s fans, but the longer this drags on the more fraudulent he starts to feel.

How can he enjoy his favorite foods when the girls giving it to him are blinded by a false idea of him? They’re not genuine, and if he accepted them, he would only feel like a bad guy, taking advantage of poor girls who haven’t got the slightest clue about him. Because Iwaizumi doesn’t have the million dollar smile like Oikawa does, nor does he have the oozing charm and commercial personality.

He’s hard, and stubborn, and less inclined to entertain bullshit— the complete opposite of shitty-kawa. So whatever perception these girls think they have of Iwa, they’re wrong. and he can’t accept gifts from these girls who think they love him, when in reality, he’s the furthest thing from what they assume he is.

“Why are you so adamant to believe that what they feel isn’t real? What's so ridiculous about liking you? Hmm?” Oikawa sings with a laugh one afternoon, the whole team crammed into the club room as they change out of their practice gear. the other guys snicker at Iwaizumi’s dismay, the usual frown painted on his face is permanently etched deeper into his skin and he knows they’re all getting a sick enjoyment from his torture.

The constant reliability to the chaos Oikawa brings is now subjected to his own taste of havoc. And he’s absolutely miserable.

In all of his stubborn self-sufficiency, he’s refused to even indulge the guys with a verbal complaint, simply grumbling at the gifts before moving on with his day. Intent on dealing with this problem on his own and prohibiting himself from being a burden to anyone else.

But he’s off his a-game in practice and the crease between his eyebrows is now a persistent feature on his face these days.

“Because it's not real,” he grunts, throwing his sweaty shirt into his sports bag, “They don’t like me.”

Hanamaki snorts from across the benches, a wide smile on his face as he unlaces his shoes and sings, “They only like him for his bodyyy.”

“Can you blame them? Who would ever like Iwa for his personality?” Matsukawa joins him in snickering, earning a killer glare from the victim in question. Not helping. They only laugh harder.

“So what?” Oikawa questions amusedly, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from the other two third years, leaning his body against the lockers as he watches his best friend ripple with frustration. A constant sight these days.

“So what?” Iwaizumi turns to look at him, incredulity furrowing his features as his friends look at him like he’s grown a third head for being reasonably uncomfortable with this, “It's weird. They’re giving all of these nice gifts to a guy they barely know and they all look at me like a piece of meat.”

“God, girls objectifying you? The horror.” Mattsun torts again, earning a water bottle thrown at his face.

“So what?” Oikawa laughs again, the kind of laugh that reverberates around the room and rings a little too loudly in his ears. He’s heard this laugh thousands of times over the years, coming out to play when Oikawa is far too keen on putting Hajime as the butt of a joke. The mockery is clear in his voice, bleeding in the two simple words yet weighing like a hundred. He can usually take it, dish it back with equal fervor to his best friend, but this time around, he can’t.

This whole mess of a situation sits heavily on his shoulders and for the first time, any attempt to just barrel through a problem like he so often does seems pointless to Hajime. Because no matter how much he ignores, no matter how often he declines, the girls will continue to only see Seijoh's ace. Not Iwaizumi Hajime.

He sighs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting in venting to his friends. Validation if they were any nicer, but deep down he knew it would take a different trajectory.

Maybe they’re right; Maybe he is blowing this out of proportion. Maybe he should just accept the gifts, enjoy them while he can because the girls are choosing to do it. They’re not being held against their will, nor is anyone really being hurt by these peculiar circumstances. It's, theoretically, a win-win.

It doesn’t stop the pit in his stomach from sinking even lower when he sees girls stop their chattering in the hallways as he passes. It doesn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of disappointment he feels when he notices they stare at his biceps before his face before dashing away.

Matsukawa shuts his own locker with a grumble, “Must be nice.”

“You wanna take my place, Issei?” iwaizumi turns to look over his shoulder, meeting the mischievous twinkle of the middle blocker.

“Yeah man, I do. Girls at my feet everyday bringing me food? That’s every guy’s dream.”

“Yeah, if every guy was a piece of shit like you.” The words tumble without second thought and Hanamaki finds himself clutching his stomach with laughter at the retort. He doesn’t mean to direct his anger at his friend, but it seeps into his words anyways. He’s lucky they’re good enough sports to take it in stride. Even if the twinkle in Matsukawa’s eyes dims and he grumbles a “shut up” while he slaps the back of Hanamaki’s head.

He knows a solution— or sympathy— won’t be offered in his venting, adamant that this is something he needs to solve on his own, but he can’t help himself. He just has to get it out. “I can't even go to class normally anymore. There’s always a girl waiting for me.”

His back is turned towards his friends as he folds his gym clothes into the open cubby, but even despite the absence of his facial expression, the other three sitting near him can hear the exhaustion in his voice. Much as they might tease him, they’ve sat front and center to the slow decline of Hajime’s sanity and comfort as he was thrust suddenly into the spotlight that he was ill-prepared for. He’s laughably out of his element, but his plight is severe enough for all three of them to occasionally step in.

Hanamaki and Mattsun have had their fair share of instances in which they’ve had to redirect of a horde of girls hounding at them for Iwaizumi’s location, telling them that they had no idea where Iwaizumi could have gone when in fact, he was hiding in the clubroom. And while they would’ve been more than happy to send them his way just to watch him fluster and stutter, the two friends knew the momentary laugh wouldn’t have been worth the further depletion of Hajime’s confidence and happiness. Iwaizumi wants this attention to be for something genuine, for something that he was directly responsible for and can be proud of. Not something as surface value as an attractive body.

Truth be told, all three of Seijoh's third years want to help him as much as Iwaizumi wants this to be over. But just like him, they have no idea what to do.

Hajime sighs again, “Don’t even get me started about when I’m with (Y/N). You think stalking is bad? Try having to deal with evil glares too.”

Scratch that. They have one idea.

The mention of the ace’s other best friend, the one that they’re all too familiar with, has all of Seijoh's members perking their heads upward in interest. A lightbulb going off simultaneously as they all share a glance with one another. Hanamaki looks up to Oikawa who looks to Mattsun who looks to Hanamaki. Their eyes darting between one another, telepathically asking the same question.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Hanamaki and Mattsun finalize their answer with a hard stare at Oikawa and smirks on their faces. They both give a long nod to their captain and like the well-oiled machine the Seijoh Volleyball Team is known to be, a plan is formulated and put into action before anyone can blink.

“Oh?” Oikawa prods, taking the initiative. His grin is suddenly more wicked than before, “How so?”

Iwaizumi notices the subtle change in tone in the conversation, can hear the smile in Oikawa’s words, but he doesn’t think much of it. Simply attributing it to the mention of the beloved figure they’re all acquainted with. He can’t blame them, finding his own mood has tipped upward at the mere thought of you. And while he has apologized to the moon and back for inadvertently getting you involved in this nightmare of a situation, there’s a resounding comfort he feels at knowing that there's at least one person on his side. One person that is willing to trudge through the mud with him, regardless of how often they complain.

Because whatever happens to him happens to you, you insist. So if he has to deal with a hundred fangirls, then so do you.

He plows on, airing out his struggles and frustrations with his newfound attention. “They’re always staring at us, making the whole thing uncomfortable when we’re just hanging out. (Y/N) even told me she once got cornered in the girls’ bathroom during lunch.”

Oikawa gasps, always enthralled with any juicy gossip, especially on the rare occasion that it involves you— his beloved, headstrong, annoying other best friend. “What did they say?”

“Some weird shit about staying away from me, like I was their property.”

“And what did (y/n) say?”

Iwaizumi laughs, a genuine one that has been missing since this whole ordeal began. He turns to look at his friends, the smile reaching his eyes and pushing upwards on his cheeks. If they weren’t sure of their plan before, the happiness on his face was enough of a push to solidify it. The happiness that only someone specific can bring out. “It's (Y/N). What do you think she said?”

Oikawa, all too familiar with your personality and deviance from the norm since age ten, huffs out a laugh, “Hmm, let me guess, something about doing whatever she wants with whoever she wants.”

“No, actually, she—”

You’re washing your hands in the sink of the bathroom when you hear a cough from behind you. Looking upwards into the mirror, you are suddenly confronted with the reflection of six girls circling around you.

A groan tumbles out of your mouth. You knew something like this was bound to happen, jealousy always emerging victorious whenever girls were thirsting after a young man. You just didn’t think it would be happening so soon, only two months into the fanatic obsession with your best friend. It’s your fault really, you should’ve prepared for a moment like this to come. But as they all shoot daggers into your reflection you can’t help but recognize how woefully dreadful this is.

You'd kill Hajime for inadvertently getting you into this if he wasn’t already feeling so guilty about it.

Each one stares at you with an intense fury, and while you’ve never considered yourself to be much of a fighter, you’re mentally preparing yourself to throw a couple of punches in this cramped bathroom. You won’t win, six against one is hardly a story of triumph, but you’ll be damned if you get intimidated by this raging group of hormones.

The faucet stops, with almost impeccable comedic timing, and a silence emanates throughout the area. It's awkward, painfully so and their silent stares are not helping.

“Uh… Can I help you?”

The one in the middle (the leader, you assume) stands with a hip jutted out and her arms crossed. You’ve seen her in passing before. Her eyes narrow at your question, “So, are you two dating?”

You have to force yourself to not roll your eyes. Of course this is where this was going. Because God forbid anyone have friends of the opposite gender. Indicator number one that the interest of these girls was superficial, considering if they even really had been interested in more than the prospect of having access to Iwaizumi’s body, they would’ve realized that you’ve been in his life for a lot longer than he’s had any redeeming qualities— including those rocking arms of his.

You won't entertain this, something you’ve been adamant about even if Hajime has insisted you don’t , especially not when it's causing Iwa all this grief that you’ve had to comfort him through time and time again.

“Who’s asking?” You all but bark back, patience wearing thin.

The one to the right of the leader— Pigtails, you’ve taken to calling her— scoffs and stomps her foot, “We are, obviously!”

Patience is below the ground now.

The left one, the one with pink hair, speaks this time, “Iwaizumi won’t even talk to us for more than a minute but he lets you hang around! So, if you’re not dating you have to tell us!”

“Why?”

“So that you can help us get closer to him!”

“Yeah, no.” you respond curtly, feeling rather nauseous at the lengths in which these girls are going just to get his attention. Cornering his friend and doing a piss-poor job at intimidating them into coercing them for information about him. No wonder Hajime's been feeling so depressed.

Taking the piss out of him used to be fun, something you and Pikawa could share profound pleasure in, but now that it's at your front door and reeking of death, you’re quickly realizing just how much you owe that spiky haired idiot.

You grab your bag that lay at your feet, turning to face the six girls with a mirthless smile despite the hatred burning in their eyes.

“Good luck with… whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

You’re almost out the door when the leader, who has puffed out her chest and taken a step forward blurts out, “If you’re not going to help us, then you better stay out of our way.”

There are few people in this world that you’ve dreamt about punching. Oikawa has made the list a couple times, but that’s only when he’s being particularly obnoxious. Iwaizumi has too, usually when his hard headedness has conflicted with yours, but even then the situation is usually better within the next hour.

But this girl, oh this girl, she has made the top of your list in record time. And you highly doubt she’s coming off of it anytime soon. And now that you’ve gotten a good look at her, you’re starting to remember exactly where you’ve seen her before.

You raise an eyebrow at her intimidation, “Or what?”

(You have to pat your back for that one because you really sound like the scary third year you’ve always dreamt of being.)

She doesn’t falter in her misplaced confidence, a smile pulling at her lips, “If he’s not yours, then he’ll be one of ours soon enough. And I can promise you, every boyfriend I've ever had always dropped his girl best friends when I asked.”

“Uh huh,” you glance at your watch that shows there are only fifteen minutes left in lunch. Might as well start on your meal now.

You pull the backpack slung over your shoulder in front of you, unzipping the large pocket and pulling out a familiar container. The girls gasp when they see it.

It's pink and has a little cat design on the front of it. Very cute and very distinct. You pop open the top, grabbing the milk bread that lies inside with your left hand and holding the lid and the box with your right. The lid is tilted forward, granting all the girls clear viewing of the cursive ink that lies on it.

The name is clear and the handwriting incredibly recognizable. The leader’s mouth gapes open.

You take a bite out of the treat, a dramatic moan escaping your mouth. You point at the girl, “Mm. You made this right?”

She doesn’t answer. None of them do. They only stare with wide eyes.

“I remember seeing you give this to Iwa this morning. It’s really good. He's not a big fan of milk bread, so he’s been giving them to me but I’ve enjoyed every single one of them! Although I am getting tired of eating the same thing over and over. So, if you’re taking suggestions, try Agedashi Dōfu. It's Iwa’s favorite.”

You lick your lips to make the point clearer. A gentle reminder of your place and their lack of one in his life. They seem to get it.

“Right then. Bye ladies! This was fun! I’m sure Hajime will be thrilled to hear all about it.”

Iwaizumi finishes recounting the story with a childlike wonder, meeting the furrowed brows and agape mouths of his friends with a joyous smile. There’s an unmistakable twinkle of affection in his eyes, one that he must not even realize is there. But it's noticeable, and his friends recognize it.

It's the same look he always gets whenever he talks about you.

It was mean of you to humiliate those girls like that, he knows, but his smile when recounting the tale is more than indicative of his true feelings behind the action. He briefly lectured you about it after you told him, insisting that it was important to be nice to these poor girls who didn’t know any better, that you begrudgingly agreed to, but he thinks about it often. Thinks about it at practice, in the middle of class, and every time he sees you.

He didn’t know how he felt about it, but from the way it warmed his cheeks and filled his chest with a weird lightness, he knew he was ultimately appreciative of the action. Honored that you would stick up for him unapologetically and protect him from unassuming teenage girls.

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Were the roles reversed he would do the same for you in a heartbeat. But still, he thinks about it. A lot.

“I haven’t seen those girls since, but I have been getting a lot more Agedashi Dōfu, so I guess that’s a plus.” He shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance returning back to the contents of his locker but the remnants of a smile plays on his lips.

“Well, how ‘bout that?” Oikawa coos. He steps closer to Iwa, placing his hands on the ace’s shoulders and giving them a good natured shake.

“I think I have the perfect solution to your problem, Iwa-chan.”

“You want me chu do wha?” you ask, mouth full of milk bread as the boy in front of you conveniently avoids your eye contact.

It's the seventh container he’s handed you this week, and while your little incident has quickly diminished the amount he usually receives, there are still the occasional stray containers with the sweet that he instinctively hands to you.

This time it came in a purple container. No outlandish designs or stickers like the other ones, but there is a written poem on the top comparing his eyes to the dirt of the Miyagi mountains. You suppose that’s romantic, but your leniency only goes so far. Particularly when this poem has no clear rhyming pattern.

You’ve long since passed the point of guilt for eating all of the treats that were clearly not meant for you. Hajime was much too conflicted with the gifts to even consider smelling them, so it serves as a solution to the problem to just give it to you. He doesn’t have to worry about maliciously taking advantage of these girls and you get food.

Win-win.

And while you’re not that into milk bread (having eaten it almost everyday for the past couple of weeks), your consumption of it seems to give him some peace of mind. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. And really, that’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.

But this is going too far.

Swallowing the last piece of milk bread, you look up at the idiot from your place on the bench. He stands in front of you, hands shoved deep into his pockets and shuffling from foot to foot.

“You’re joking, right?”

This is a joke. It has to be. There’s no way the world would be this cruel to you.

His eyes remain averted, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would wake him up from this endless nightmare, “Look, it’ll only be until I can get these girls to back off of me a little.”

“No.”

“Wha— (Y/N).” He breathes out, a twinge of desperation and pleading seeping into his voice as he finally looks into your eyes. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but the pure and unadulterated seriousness is not one of them. He’s almost convinced to drop the subject altogether. Almost.

“Whose idea was this?” You practically growl out, closing the container and cleaning your surrounding area of any stray crumbs. You thrust your hand outward, shoving the container his way. He takes it from you without question.

“Does it matter?”

“Whose?”

“...Oikawa.”

Of course it was. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“(Y/N),” he says your name more forcefully. It’s the same tone he uses with Oikawa when he’s being whiny. It's enough of a bite to have you stop rearranging your items for a brief moment, meeting his determined gaze with one of your own. He stares intently, eyes unwavering in their silent plea to make you understand.

That’s the worst part about it. He’s serious, and he’s confident that this is the only way to solve the problem that’s been plaguing him for the past three months.

If there's one thing you know about Iwaizumi Hajime, it’s that he’ll solve any problem on his plate and won’t stop until it's fixed. He’s responsible to a fault, refusing to burden others unless absolutely necessary. The fact that he’s viewing this to be the only solution and actually trying to persuade you is indicative enough of how desperate he is.

Even more so indicative of how truly fucked you are, considering you’ve already made a decision before he even explains further.

Damn him and that hard head of his.

Damn Oikawa for knowing what he does and still dragging you into this mess. No doubt he was thoroughly enjoying this.

“Will you please be my girlfriend?”

Damn that student council and their stupid fundraiser for getting Iwaizumi Hajime, the boy you’ve been best friends with since you were ten and had a crush on since you were thirteen, to ask you to be his fake girlfriend in order to thwart off hordes of fangirls.

Damn you for already having an answer before you can even think twice.

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, and they were all laughing at your expense now.

end notes: whoop there it is. let me know what you all think! should i keep going? should i say fuck a degree and major in iwazumi hajime? idk man im about to.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #my writing #haikyuu!!

174 notes · View notes