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uravichii · 1 year ago

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"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bakugo katsuki drabbles #bakugo drabbles #bnha drabbles #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki fluff #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons

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hayatoseyepatch · 9 months ago

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𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓:Zayne could not contain the possessive need to keep you all to himself, to not let anyone see the most private parts of your being. So if he had to convince you to let him perform your routine gynecological exam, then so be it. 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗:Zayne (Love & Deepspace) 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙:1.2k 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘:Fem!ReaderxZayne. ⚠️NSFW Dark Content⚠️.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:Pussy inspection, yandere themes, fingering, depraved thoughts, possessive behavior, praise, degradation, dubcon, medical malpractice, sexual coercion, power dynamics (kinda?), doctor/patient play.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: It's time to get this shit started!! (•̀ᴗ•́)و Welcome to the first official post of my kinktober. We're starting off strong of course with a character I've never written before, oops. So I do apologize if Zayne is a wee bit ooc. That being said, I hope you enjoy and I'll see you in the next one! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ᵕ`∩꒱ྀིა See full kinktober master list here.

Zayne typically didn’t perform this kind of examination, he was a surgeon not a gynecologist. However, the mere idea of anyone, even another medical professional, having access to your most intimate places was enough to make his skin crawl. This profound possessive energy he felt when it came to you was not something he was familiar with but he couldn’t contain himself. So here you sat, legs in stirrups, knees locked together as much as possible, shy for Zayne to see your most intimate areas. He had to swallow a chuckle, the stirrups making it impossible for you to try and hide yourself from him. He eyed you as he slid the latex onto his digits, sitting on the chair in front of you and rolling until he was positioned between your legs. He hummed lightly, a cold hand sliding up the warmth of your thighs, parting what you could close of your legs to expose yourself to him.

“Relax, it’s just a routine exam, it’ll be over before you know it.” His voice was calming the low baritone soothing but holding a sternness that had you complying under his touch. Zayne was grateful he was sat at a lower level, your eyes also being transfixed on the ceiling, because if you spared a glance you might have caught the way he needed to adjust himself in his slacks. The sight of your glistening pussy was enough to have his cock stirring. He cleared his throat, focusing at the task at hand. “I’ll be inserting my fingers, they may be a bit cold due to the lubricant.” He tried to keep his tone professional and tried to keep the desperation from his tone.

He felt like an animal being held back on a tight leash. The urge to thrust his fingers in your tight heat, to lean forward just a bit and finally get a taste of you. The number of times he craved to be in a similar position, the countless nights he had fisted his cock as the thought of feeling you around him was mortifying. As his first digit slipped past your entrance he swallowed a groan. Your walls welcomed him fully, practically sucking in his digit with your tightness. He wasn’t sure if it was his own desire speaking or if you were wet enough without the lubricant for his fingers to ease inside of you. He catches it, the sharp inhale. he deludes himself into thinking that it's in response to the stretch that his fingers provide and not the temperature of his digits. He slides in a second digit, your walls hugging his fingers tightly. “I need you to relax, you think you could do that for me?” His voice is gentle, your tightness indicative of being tense.

“But I am relaxed, Dr. Zayne.” The words fall from your lips without hesitation, being sincere in their delivery. Zayne blinked to himself, you couldn’t possibly be his tight. He chanced his words hopeful tone forced to be swallowed. “So are you always this tight? Would you say you are active in your sex life?” He watches between your knees as your face flushes, sparing a glance between you legs had been a mistake. Seeing him looking up at you between your thighs, while his fingers were knuckle deep inside you, caused an involuntary clench of your cunt. Sucking his fingers in deeper as if begging for more. “Well, I..” Your voice trails off, embarrassed to say your last partner had been quite some time ago, since you had rekindled with Zayne, if you were honest.

Zayne it seems senses your words you were grateful you didn’t have to continue. However, that gratefulness is replaced with mortification at his following words. “With how, well, responsive you’re being I’d say it was quite some time since you have taken a partner. That kind of sexual deprivation could cause a build-up of frustration and tension, its not good for your evol.” Zayne offered a pensive sigh, trying to make it as believable as possible that this was in your best interest for your health. “The best course of action would be a stimulated orgasm, to release some of that tension.”

The way Zayne spoke, so certain and absolute, had you believing that this was the only course of action to assist with your issue. And you’d be lying if you hadn’t imagined this exact scenario while at home with your own fingers buried in your depths. “Whatever you think is best, you are the doctor afterall.” Your voice quivered albeit nervous as his fingers began to move, hoping this meant more than just a routine exam to him. Though you must admit, you’ve never heard of this type of treatment ever taking place. Even Zayne himself was doubtful you would fall for his ruse, but he also was hopeful you’re agreeance was because it was him. He knew he was right to think no one else should this exam, not when you were so easily goaded into following his instructions. “Yes, just like that, you're doing so well for me.”

His fingers set a steady pace from the beginning, pumping in and out of your walls easily and without resistance. He took the thumb on his free hand, his tongue swiping across the latex covered digit to act as lubricant, not that it was truly needed, before using it to rub tight circles on your clit. He relished in the sounds that slipped from your lips, the cry of “Dr. Zayne” reaching his ears and making his cock throb against the confines of his scrubs. Unable to qualm his desire any longer he groaned. “My apologies, snowflake, this is going to be very unprofessional of me.” His voice came out husky, dripping with need as he leaned forward, replacing his thumb with his tongue.

He tries and fails to swallow the groan as he finally takes you against his tastebuds after yearning for longer than he is proud to admit. His wet muscle moves in time with his fingertips as they work in tandem to bring you to release. He takes his now free hand, applying pressure to the patch of skin below your belly button. The added weight of his hand makes it feel as if his fingers are pressing impossibly deep, your head being thrown back, making the parchment covering the seat crinkle, alerting yourself just as to where you both were. Even if you wanted to protest or express concern that anyone could walk in, your voice dies in your throat cut off by a moan as the pads of his fingers find that oh so delicate spongey patch within your depths.

Your receptiveness to his touch has him abusing that spot, picking up the speed at with he lapped at your clit until your hips bucked against his face riding out the waves of your orgasm as much as the stirrups would allow. He allows you a moment of reprieve, watching as you res against the seat, chest rising and falling to catch your breath after the intense orgasm. “Now, we’ll continue with the examination whenever you’re ready.” He speaks, wiping your juices from his chin, as if he hadn’t just eaten your cunt. “Though I will recommend you come visit me again to release some of that built up tension, cant have one of our best hunters out of commission now could we?” if you hadn’t know any better you would have sworn there was a curl to his lips and a wink thrown in your direction. But, hey, who were you to disobey the doctor's orders?

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘. 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖜𝖎𝖋𝖊 @eevees-hobbies 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖆 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊, 𝕴 𝖆𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖇𝖇! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @serendipitous-fernweh @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

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hanginginthevoid · 1 month ago

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Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Satisfaction Brought it Back

pairing: bob reynolds x reader

summary: almost every customer you see is the same. when you finally meet someone that’s different, you can’t help but let your curiosity pique. you shouldn’t have though, new doesn't always mean good or better. sometimes new can ruin you.

a/n: HI!!! I love the idea of character x powerless!reader almost as much as i love the idea of reader who can take care of themselves. SLOWBURN!!!!! I also wrote like 10 pages straight of this before i slowed down and remember how much i HATE writing endings…

warnings: reader gets screamed at, probably ooc bob, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 8.2k

---

Your life would be considered mundane. You spend most of your time studying, if you weren’t studying you were at work. But to be honest, you were studying at work too. Sure you still go out with your friends, but you’re not paying thousands upon thousands of dollars to not get this degree.

The bookshop that you work at is cute. The brick walls painted sage green, the bookshelves that lined the walls, along with the display tables, were a nice dark mahogany. Small bouquets of different flowers were painted around the shop, like easter eggs for customers to spot.

If the customers actually look at the design choices, you’d never know. Most of the customers that you saw were business or finance bro’s and ladies trying to assert themselves in their corporate jobs.

They’d pick up some ‘life-changing’ book, and you’d never see them again. The first floor of the shop was entirely dedicated to non-fiction because of this. Gotta make it easily accessible for the clients.

You prefer fiction, and honestly, it’s a better vibe having to go upstairs to find some whimsy than just staying at the same level. Every once in a while you’ll see someone venturing up there, maybe just to take a few pictures, maybe to actually buy something. Not nearly as often as you’d like though.

Most of the time you keep your head down, busy jotting down notes or highlighting your textbook. You greet customers when they come in, help them find the book they’re looking for if need be, and give them a polite smile while asking about their day as you check them out. But their faces blur together, and none of their responses stick with you for more than a few minutes.

Today was different though.

Today two men walked into the shop. One with shaggy brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a wobbly smile like he’s worried about something, and the other with blonde hair, a beard, and eyes so icy blue you could mistake them for gray.

The one with brown hair takes to the shelves after returning your greeting. He scans them for a little bit, checking around the displays as well before coming up to you at the checkout counter.

“Hi.. again.” You look up, but he’s avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but you, “Do you guys have any books not based not on real stuff?”

You nod along with him, “Yeah, of course. All of our upstairs section is for fiction books.”

“O-oh. Thank you.” And he’s moving away, looking like he’s sizing up the stairs ahead of him.

You feel a little bad for the guy - the guy he’s with is just standing at the door, and he seems unsure about everything.

Your better judgement fails, putting a tab in your textbook so you don’t lose your place, “Are you looking for anything specific?”

“Ummm.. Not really? Just - anything fictional.” He’s starting up the stairs before he remembers something and continues his response, “And a series. Something with a lot of books.”

You smile at him, a general customer service smile but it’s softened by the want to be kind to this man, “The Maze Runner is pretty good. Five books in the series.”

With a final nod, he’s up the stairs and it’s just you and the blonde man. You think about asking if you could help him with anything, but any normal person would have already looked around if they wanted to.

They both look familiar. Not excessively, but similar to someone who you would see walking around campus but never had classes with. Like the friend of one of your friends, who only shows up once in a blue moon.

You can’t place them before the brown haired man comes back with a book.

He hands, not places down, hands, you a book. Upon glancing at it, you see he picked your recommendation.

“I think you’ll like it, I was really into it when I read it for the first time.” You scan the book, placing it with the front cover down onto the simple brown packing paper you picked out this morning.

“I think so too. You would be the expert after all,” He huffs out a laugh at the end of his sentence, handing you a credit card to make his payment.

You smile along with him, sealing the book with a ‘Thank you!’ sticker. After the card clears you hand it back to him, along with the book, and send him off with the hope that he enjoys the book.

As he turns around, he motions to his blonde counterpart, and they both head out the door. Before it shuts though, the man turns around one more time leaving you with a ‘Have a good day!’ and a warm feeling in your chest because there really are still good, kind people out there.

Unlike the normal clientele that you see, you think about this man for the rest of your shift.

He was attractive, so you’d almost doubt that he didn’t have a girlfriend. Or maybe even a boyfriend, but there’s no way that was the blonde man. He seemed more like a bodyguard…?

He was also kind. He might not have been confident, but that didn’t take away from his other redeeming qualities.

You think mostly about the fact that he took your recommendation. He didn’t ask for one, so it’s truly surprising that he took what you said into consideration. Paired with the fact that he spent a decent amount of time up there, seemingly pondering his options, just to come back with your recommendation still.

It’s a shame that you’ll probably never see him again. People usually don’t have the time to keep stopping by the same bookshop in this city. Assuming he’s the same as everyone else, he’ll just order the next one online and call it a day.

—

You’re almost immediately proven wrong. Just three days later, the same shaggy haired, blue eyed man walks back into the bookshop.

This time, he’s accompanied by a woman. They greet you, ask how your day is going, then venture upstairs.

You eye them more than you’d like to admit. Trying to figure out these two, the woman is clearly more invested in him than his blonde companion had been.

She's got black hair, green eyes, and an accent. Exotic.

She stands with him as he browses, inputting her opinion, giving suggestions. Ventures off by herself for a minute before coming back with a book, you assume to recommend it.

Maybe this is the girlfriend. The one who gets to go home and call him her own. By your guesstimate, they’ve only been dating for a little while. Too many boundaries between them to be a really established, committed relationship.

Eventually, you go back to your textbook. Reducing its value every time you annotate, a highlight to show importance, and a note to explain why exactly it's important.

As you're figuring out how you want to color code this set of flashcards, someone gently clears their throat in front of you.

You look up to see the ocean eyed man. He’s smiling at you, soft like he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Hey, find everything alright?” You’re standing now, resting your folded arms across the counter.

He nods as he responds, “Yeah, yeah everything was findable.”

His girlfriend wasn’t beside him anymore, instead she's perusing around the displays about ways to drastically improve your life.

When he hands you the book, you see it’s ‘The Scorch Trials’, the second book in the series you recommended. Guess they spent all that time up there just to flirt.

You scan it, placing it face down on the same brown packing paper as the last book, “Am I safe to assume that you enjoyed the first one?”

“Y-yeah, I didn’t think Alby would die like that. Y’know? He felt like the glue and then boom! He was gone.”

It’s sweet. He’s not afraid to show his joy from the story. Accentuation his ‘boom’ with his hands, and, holding eye contact.

“Me either. My favorite is Newt though, so I’m just happy he made it out of the maze.” You’ve sealed the book with a ‘Have a great day!’ sticker, and then you’re handing it back.

“I don’t have a favorite yet, but I’ll keep Newt in mind! He seems like a good guy.” And then his girlfriend is back at his side, ushering him out the door. He yells a ‘Have a good rest of your day!’ over his shoulder, and then they’re disappearing into the busy New York sidewalk.

You wonder if he’ll finish the second one as fast as the first one. Though, you hoped not.

You wouldn’t be working that day and even if he had a girlfriend he was still a breath of fresh air that you wouldn’t want to miss the chance to inhale.

Maybe you’d go find a dandelion to wish on after your shift. But then again, he’s just a man. You don’t even know his name for God’s sake.

Yeah, no dandelion for you.

—

Sunday is the universal reset day. Least you’d think so. You bring your laundry down to your apartment building's laundry room, let it start to do its thing in the washer then head out.

First grabbing a coffee at the cute coffee shop a couple of blocks down. You swear they make the best macchiatos.

Then you’re on your way to the grocery store. Getting the most important things first; Greens and proteins. Then the things important to your heart like carbs and cheese, ice cream if it’s weather permitting. Then everything else, from snacks to garbage bags, to dryer sheets, to a new mascara, or maybe even some flowers.

The trick was getting everything you needed, but not too much that it became difficult to haul home. Today was not one of the days that you got the ratio right.

Maybe you bought too many snacks, but you’ve got a hell of a lot of assignments due this week and that permits a hell of a lot of snacking.

Thankfully, you brought a nearly empty backpack with you, so you’re able to stash some groceries in there and not kill your wrists. It doesn’t help much though, by the time you make it to the elevator your fingers are throbbing and turning white from the lack of circulation.

You put away the refrigerated and frozen items before making your way down the stairs. Gotta burn your calories somehow.

After switching your laundry from the washer to the dryer, you head back upstairs. Starting in the living room you put away stray books, highlighters, pens, and papers. Straighten up the couch by fluffing the cushions, and folding the blankets before grabbing any cups or mugs that may have been left out and bringing them to the kitchen.

You go through the dishes fast, most of them being able to fit into the dishwasher. Then it's putting away the rest of the groceries, and wiping down the counters.

The bathroom and bedroom are tidied up daily so besides changing the sheets, you forgo taking care of them. Instead vacuuming so that you can just put on a movie and fold your clothes before making dinner.

You can barely hear your phone going off from where it rests on your kitchen counter. It gets ignored though, probably just one of your parents checking in, worried because you’ve been swamped with school. You can just text them back before you start folding.

After the vacuum is shut down, and properly stored in your coat closet, you head back downstairs to retrieve your laundry.

The basket goes between the couch and the coffee table, ensuring you have enough space to section out all your clothes. But you still have to pick a movie. Something you’ve seen before, so you won’t get distracted. Yet still something interesting, so you don’t give up on your laundry halfway through and leave it all around your apartment.

By the time you remember your phone and the aforementioned text from your parents, you’re about thirty minutes into ‘Madagascar’. The thought of leaving it, and continuing with your progress passes through your mind. And you mull over the idea for a few minutes. But then you remember that not everyone has parents that care about them, and you push yourself off the couch to go get your phone.

When you turn it on while walking back to the couch, you notice that it wasn’t from your parents. Instead you're met with a message from Tasha, your coworker. Maybe the shop ran out of a popular book? Or a customer wanted to return a, clearly, read book again.

Opening the chat, you see that it’s neither of those.

Tasha: Some guy came in today asking about you

What guy could come in asking about you? Would this be your chance to meet some millionaire who’d pay for your tuition. God you hoped so. At the very least please let him be hot. Well, hot is an overstatement, let him be not horrid to look at.

You’d never know if you didn’t ask though, so you type out a quick reply before sitting back on your couch, digging your hand back into the laundry basket.

Y/n: What guy?

The response is nearly instantaneous.

Tasha: GIRL

Tasha: YOU TOOK

Tasha: SO LONG

Y/n: mb, yk sunday is my reset

Y/n: left my phone on the counter while folding clothes so i didn’t lose my flow

Tasha: does NOT matter

Tasha: he was FINE

Tasha: TALL

Tasha: DARK HAIR

A tall, dark haired man was asking for you? That’s like - half the businessmen in New York. She’d need to be more specific.

Y/n: you gotta gimme sumn else

Y/n: thats like half the people who come in

Tasha: like long dark hair

Tasha: blue eyes

You start typing before you can really think about the implications.

Y/n: did he get a maze runner book??

Tasha: yeah

Tasha: so who is he

It’s comical how Tasha thinks that he’s interested in you. It’d be nice if he was. You’d definitely accept a date with him if he ever offered. But you’re not a homewrecker.

Y/n: just a nice dude who doesn’t treat staff like theyre garbage

Y/n: he’s got a girl tho, she came w him last time

It’s getting late, and you’ve fallen behind on your mental schedule. You’ll start dinner while you finish up your conversation, then after you eat you can finish your laundry and head to bed.

Getting up you take out the ground beef you bought just a few hours ago. Splitting it into two portions you put one half in a ziploc bag and stuff it in your freezer before putting the other half into a pan to brown. As you’re opening a can of crushed tomatoes, your phone dings with a new message.

Tasha: idk

Tasha: didnt seem like he did when he was describing you

You shake your head as you start adding seasonings to your beef. Also putting a pot of water to boil before wiping your hands to respond.

Y/n: hes just nice

Y/n: dont read into it

Y/n: see u tuesday girly

Then your phone ends up on do not disturb. You’ve got to finish these chores if you want to be able to properly focus on your studies.

Unfortunately you think about Tasha’s texts until you crawl into bed. She was adamant that he was feeling you in at least one sense of the word. The idea makes your cheeks warm. Not much, since it would just be a delusion, but enough for you to recognize the familiar flush.

Next time you see him, you’ve got to block the messages out of your mind. Otherwise you’d make a fool out of yourself. He had a girlfriend, and you’d respect that.

Plus, he didn’t even know your name! How could he have any sort of feeling for you without knowing your name? You supposed it could be similar to how you’ve got a flutter in your chest when you see him, but that’d be dumb, men don’t think that way.

—

You’re hunched over your laptop, typing up a storm when you hear the bell jingle. It doesn’t stop you from typing, you’ve got a flow going and you wouldn’t stop it for the world.

When your half-hearted greeting is replied to by a known voice you freeze. It’s brief, so you hope he doesn’t notice, but it still happens. Then you’re back to typing, throwing a ‘let me know if you need anything!’ in his general direction.

Truth be told, you were just typing mumbo-jumbo. Trying to manifest a proper thought that would never come. You wanted to look up. See if he had come by himself today, or if he had brought his girlfriend along. But curiosity killed the cat, and living in the fantasy that he could possibly like you, was far too nice to trade.

You switch from typing on your personal laptop, to typing on the shop’s pc. If you weren’t going to be productive with your essay, you could at least be productive by ordering some much needed stock.

That’s the only reason you switched. Not because you wanted to take a look around the shop. Not because the flutter in your chest was still happening, minutes after just speaking to him. And most certainly not because you remembered, curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

You wanted it to be conspicuous. Nonchalant. Just a casual glance around the shop to make sure no one was stealing anything.

However, a shout made you spring your head up. Staring directly at the man you're infatuated with, and his companion for the day. A tall man, with a graying beard.

He really has no shortage of friends. All different shapes and sizes too.

“Sorry!” He’s waving at you, an embarrassed look overtaking his features.

Before you can tell him that there’s no need to apologize his friend is speaking, loudly, again “Why do you apologize? We do nothing wrong, nothing.”

“Because! It’s a bookshop, and it was quiet. Silent even! Before you shouted.” He’s whisper shouting, trying to make his point in the quietest way possible.

Huffing out a laugh, you go back to your essay. Even with nobody else in the shop, this guy still has the manners to not want to mess up the vibe. Maybe he has a twin you could get with.

You barely hear from the two again until they're right up in front of you. Your ears pick up on ‘Alexi’ and ‘over there’, before you’re approached by ocean eyes himself.

“Hi. Sorry again, about him.” It looks like he’s rocking on his feet a little bit, but you’re not tall enough to be sure. “ He - uh. He’s not the best in social settings.”

“Ah, I see. So. What’re you getting today?” Your hands are out, like a child waiting to accept a present.

He places ‘The Kill Order’ in your hands. “Newt died. You kinda gaslit me into believing he was a safe favorite character.”

The way he says it is flat. It makes you worry a bit, and he’s looking at you straight faced like he’s really got a bone to pick. “My bad! He really was my favorite. Even though he kicked the bucket. I didn’t think you’d really pay more attention to him if I mentioned it.”

You hope your apology is taken seriously. Your eyebrows are creased, eyes conveying your sincerness, at least you hope they are. But then he’s laughing. Why is he laughing?

“Sorry, I - I wasn’t serious. I did think he was a safe character to like but I thought it’d be funny to pull your leg a little.” Oh. Thank god he wasn’t really upset.

Then you’re laughing a little bit along with him, “You got me. I’ll give you that.” You scan the book, proceeding along with the same routine as always. This time you’re wrapping it in a deep burgundy packing paper, sticking it with a ‘Come again soon!’ sticker before handing it back.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” He raises his eyes to meet yours when you start speaking, “but you read a lot.”

“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. It’s nice to be immersed in a different world sometimes.”

“Gotcha. Well it was nice to see you again…” You trail off, hoping he takes the hint and gives you his name.

“Oh - Bob, I-I’m Bob. What’s your name?” He’s back to avoiding eye contact. But he hasn’t moved away from the counter yet, so he can’t be that uncomfortable.

You give him your name, and he repeats it. Trying it out on his tongue, figuring out the syllables and the way to say them that makes them sound best. Then he’s leaving, well, more like getting dragged out.

His huge friend has an arm wrapped around his shoulders and he’s walking with a purpose that Bob can’t resist.

As they start to make their way down the street, Bob spares you a grin and a wave through the window.

You wonder when he’ll finish that book. When he’ll be back and you’ll get to look into his eyes again. When you’ll get to dream about how soft his hair is.

As long as you’re on shift you couldn’t care less though.

—

This goes on for a few months. Bob comes in, always with a companion, picks out a book from a series you’ve recommended. The two of you crack a couple of jokes, or Bob asks you about your studies. And then he’s gone for a few days.

Sometimes he doesn’t show up at all. Usually just for a few days, which wouldn’t be bad but it's abnormal for him. Once in a blue moon it's for a or over a week, he never explains, just apologizes.

His companions are always one of 6 people. They fluctuate, sometimes the same person joining him two times in a row, sometimes they rotate like a wheel and you don’t see the same person for a few weeks.

Then they stop coming. Well not entirely. But they stop coming inside. At first they just stand outside the shop, lingering just outside the door.

Eventually they start to ‘drop’ Bob off. Walk with him till they get to the shop, the two of them exchange a few words, then Bob walks in, and his companion walks off.

They make sure to pick him up after. It’s always on their time though. Bob will come in, pick out his book, check out, and then talk to you the rest of the time.

It’s all basic conversation, favorite colors, what drew you to get your degree, why you chose NYU over something closer to home, favorite ice cream flavor, what Florida was like.

It seems silly to assume that he likes you. But it seems even sillier to assume that he doesn’t. No way would he waste all this time just to not care at all.

He still asks Tasha about you when you’re not there. She thinks you two are a match made in heaven. Well as close to one as she can get without really knowing him. But he’s attractive, attracted to you, you say he's kind, so what’s not to like.

You see Bob and his female blonde companion, Yelena you think her name is, talking outside the shop. You can’t hear them, but you can see Bob wringing his fingers together and Yelena putting her hands on his shoulders, giving him a decent shake.

Then it’s like something in Bob shifts, and he gains confidence. Looking into her eyes he smiles a bit, not too much, but enough for it to be noticeable. And he's turning around, and opening the door to the shop.

“Good morning, how’s it going?” He’s smiling, looking directly at you.

You can tell he’s really taking you in. How you did your hair, the sweater that you’re wearing, maybe he even notices the mascara you put on just on the hope that you’d see him today.

“Good, how’s it going with you?”

He’s not moving from the counter, still studying you. “It’s good. Hopefully it’ll be better in a minute.” The look on your face, warm, comforting, understanding, interested, encourages him to continue. “I was hoping you’d maybe…” Bob has to take a breath to steady himself, “W-would you get coffee with me sometime?”

It takes you a few seconds to process. Bob wants to get coffee with you? Like as in a date? You’ve been dreaming about this for months. When you’re done thinking it through, the giddiness gets to you.

Beaming at him, “Of course. I would love to get coffee with you Bob.”

“Really?” His mouth is gaping a little, like he really thought you’d reject him.

“Really. I’m not working on Thursday if that works for you?” You really hope that there aren’t hearts in your eyes. The blush on your cheeks is prominent, you can feel it, and it would be embarrassing if Bob didn’t have a matching one.

“Thursdays gre-perfect. It’s perfect.”

You’re discussing which cafe to go to before you shoo Bob away to go pick out his book. God forbid Yelena comes back and he still hasn’t checked out.

There’s a pleasant warmth in your chest when he leaves. And you’re light, like every stress has been lifted away. Maybe it’s adrenaline from your crush being reciprocated, or maybe it’s the bloom of puppy love, either way it's welcomed.

—

When Thursday rolls around, you’re more energized than ever. Practically bouncing around your apartment as you get ready. Using the same body wash, and lotion so the scent really sticks.

Putting on makeup, not too much, but enough so that it enhances your face and gives you some extra ‘shine’.

You also make sure to dress comfortable, cute, but comfortable. You’ve only seen Bob outside of his sweaters a handful of times, and you doubt that a coffee shop date would be the spot he decides to bring out all the stops.

Wait. What if he doesn’t see this as a date. Maybe he just wanted to become friends with you outside your job. Wanted to add onto his never ending revolving companions to accompany him around on his errands.

No. That’s not right. Bob wouldn’t do that, anyone would have to know that would be leading you on and he doesn’t have the hate in him to do that. No way.

When you get there, Bob’s already sitting down at a table. He’s people watching, looking out the window at all the unsuspecting people passing by.

His hair looks like he styled it instead of letting it do it’s own thing, and he's got a comfy crew-neck on. The slopes of his nose and lips and the way that his lashes lightly brush his cheekbones when he blinks. He’s beautiful like this, unfortunate that you have to break up his peace.

You slide into the chair across from him, “Hey.”

He’s smiling at you, one of the biggest you’ve seen, “How was the walk?”

“Not bad, a little chilly but that’s nothing new.”

“Well, let me get you a drink to warm up, yeah?”

You give him your order, and then he’s gone. Up at the counter in a flash, and seemingly back in even less time.

Like a proper gentleman he hands you yours first. His hand was a little too big on the mug, leaving you no choice but to brush your fingers against his as you go to grip it. Believe it or not, it’s the first time you’ve touched.

Suddenly, the world is being painted black. It’s creeping up all around you, spreading from where you stand, up the walls, to the ceiling. For a split second it’s just you in this neverending black box.

Then you’re in the backseat of your first ever car. “How the hell?” You’re looking around, trying to figure out how you could have possibly gotten here. You were just with Bob, at a cafe, on your first date.

Then you start murmuring. Not you you, but the younger you, the one sitting in the front seat. She’s talking about how tiring it is being perfect, doing everything that everyone ever asks, always being the one that people know they can rely on, or at the very least fall back on to talk shit about others to. And before you can even finish your rant your fathers screaming back at you. How he owns the house, he lives in the house, he bought your car, he provides everything and asks for so little back.

You feel the tears before you recognize that you're crying. But you hear her sobs. The way her chest shakes with every breath, the way it's painful to inhale. How the hell did you get here, and why can’t you just get out?

The screaming doesn’t stop, it keeps going, getting progressively worse. You’re clearly ungrateful, and you need to remember your place. When you get your own place, then you can have the thoughts and feelings that you’re currently having. Until then suck it up.

You try to leave, opening the door of the car, but you can’t, you have too much respect for your father.

The adult you is staring. This was the whole reason you left home after all. All the talk about having a place of your own, the arguments over the way you kept your room, or didn’t clean a specific area of the house.

It ends with the sound of you sobbing still. Worse than before. Your airways are already compromised with the snot blocking it, and the way you’re trying to suppress the sobs is only making it worse.

And then it’s melting away. In the same way that it started, but in reverse. The scene fades to black, the ceiling gets its color back first. The rest of the scene coming into view, Bob staring at you is the last thing you register.

“I-i-i’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?” He’s worried, the stutter proving your thoughts. But how does he know something is wrong? You didn’t see anyone else in there with you, just your own personal hell.

“Did.. Did you do that?” You’re trying to piece together this puzzle. No way that you slice or dice it does it look good.

His eyes are frantic, you think that’s what tipped you off, “I. I did. I didn’t mean to though! I promise it was an accident.”

Then you’re pushing past him. Not slowing down as he calls after you. When you make it to the sidewalk, you book it.

What the hell?

What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with you?

How did he even do that?

Did he bring you out on a date just to humiliate you?

Maybe that’s what you deserve, his girl friends probably told him to do it. Even if you don’t understand how it worked, it would make sense; embarrass you to the point where you’d never bother him again.

—

You take the next week off of work. Any shift you can, you give to Tasha. The shifts that you do work, because you need money to live, are the afternoons. Just a few hours, essentially in and out.

As long as no one sells you out, Bob would never know and would never come during that time.

You told Tasha that the date went bad, but that was all you had disclosed. You hoped she’d be kind enough not to meddle.

She did inform you that he came in often, almost everyday, looking for you. He’d asked when you’d be working next, Tasha told him it was illegal for her to tell him.

He’d left notes with Tasha, and she passed them along. Just for you to toss them in the bin. The one at work, so you wouldn’t be tempted to dig through the trash and see what he wrote.

He asked what you liked, if there was a gift card or book he could get you to apologize. Tasha told him to kick rocks.

She did let you know that he looked awful. His hair was messy, tousled beyond its normal amount; like he spends all day running his hands through it.

His eyes had bags under them. They were extremely sunken in, and had a purplish hue to them. His eyes themselves were red, sometimes puffy, most times half-lidded, like opening them took too much energy.

He was almost always sniffling. His nose red from irritation. You told her this had to have been allergies, Tasha insisted it was from crying.

And lastly, his hands. Always fidgeting. Picking at his nail beds, wringing around each other, or cracking his knuckles.

Bob looked worn down. His body, mind and soul. But what did Tasha want you to do about it, it’s not your fault.

—

It’s another week later when a blonde walks into the shop.

You take a glance at the clock on your computer before speaking, “Hey, just wanted to let you know that we close in a half-an-hour. Take your time though.”

“I’m actually here for you.”

That sends a chill down your spine. This is New York so it wouldn’t be completely unheard of to be taken hostage. But you haven’t done anything and you have essentially no value, so why are they here for you?

For the first time, you really look at the person in front of you. You know her. Not entirely sure from where, but she’s familiar in a way.

You take the non-threatening approach, donning a soft smile before you speak, “Yeah of course. What can I do for you?”

She’s staring at you, and you swear she hasn’t blinked once. It’s like she’s staring through your soul.

“Bob told me that he sent you to a shame room.”

“What?” Breath catching in your throat. You remember her now, Yelena. Bob’s most frequent companion. Maybe if you can keep your cool, you’ll get off easy.

“On your date. At the place that does the uhhh, latte art?” Yelena’s still holding eye contact.

You’re really trying not to sweat, “Oh. Yeah, what about it?”

“You’ve been ignoring him since.”

You can’t deny it. You literally switched shifts just so you wouldn’t have to see him. So you nod, hoping that suffices.

“He didn’t mean to. He can’t control it.”

What is she even talking about, “Sorry? Can’t control what?”

“The shame room. Where you went when he touched you?” You hum a bit in response before she continues, “He can’t control that. He’s been good for months, so he thought he could get through a date, with you, safely.”

You don’t understand though. Why can’t he control that? Why can he do that, period. It’s not normal but Bob’s definitely not a superhero that you’ve seen on your TV before.

“Why.. Why can he do that?” If she’s gonna corner you here, you’re at least gonna ask some questions too.

“It’s a long story, not mine to tell. But I’m sure Bob would tell you. If you let him.” Then she’s turning, heading straight for the door.

That’s it?

That’s all she had to say?

What, was she trying to scare you into talking to him?

Your heart ached. You thought he liked you, thought he had maybe cared for you like you cared for him. And it’s okay if he didn’t but why did he have to make it the most painful way possible?

—

You don’t get much sleep that night. Tossing and turning as you replay the past few months in your head. Bob was a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type to be malicious. Not the type to purposefully torture others.

And you doubt he sent Yelena after you. She probably just saw him hurting and decided to step in. Completely understandable, and in its own way that hurt too.

It hurt because it meant that Bob was hurting. He missed you as much as you missed him. And he’s had much less context for why you’re avoiding him.

You decide you’ll go to the shop in the morning. Hang out with Tasha and maybe, if you’re lucky, run into Bob.

—

You manage to fall asleep, not for long but it's better than nothing. The anxiety you have is making you shake.

Whether it's your hands, your arms, or your legs, somethings been moving all morning.

To calm yourself, you take the long way. Make a stop at a cafe, getting Tasha a coffee as well since you’re an amazing coworker.

When you come up on the bookshop, you can see Bob through the window.

While you can’t see his face, you know he’s not 100%.

His shoulders are slouching, caving in on himself it seems. He’s saying something to Tasha, trying to get her to accept another note by the looks of it.

The jingle of the bell above the door makes both of them freeze.

Tasha’s eyes widen, recognition that you’re finally facing the music flashing through them. And that must be what makes Bob turn around.

He turns slowly. Eyes slowly roaming over your body before finally landing on your face. His mouth falls open, not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.

Then his lower lip starts to wobble, tears gathering over his waterline making his eyes glassy, and he’s moving towards you.

Slow, unsure steps lead him to a few feet in front of you. His hands move over your shoulders, not daring to touch you, but hovering close enough for you to just barely feel their warmth.

“I’m so,so,so, sorry. I’ve been working on it, and I just..” He swallows before continuing, not breaking eye contact, “I feel so calm. Like - like I’m at peace, when I’m around you, so I thought it wouldn’t happen. I thought I could break it to you slowly, a-after you accepted a second date.”

You’re just standing there. The damn coffee you got prevents you from wringing your hands, and it’s difficult to bounce your legs when standing.

The urge to back away from him is strong. But you can tell he’s trying, you can tell that he wants you to believe him.

When Bob realizes you aren’t going to respond, he continues, “I thought it would be too heavy, you know? To tell you about all of this baggage that I have. Thought that if I told you, everything would change.”

“A warning would have been nice.” You’re not looking at him anymore, instead staring at your shoes. It’s a shame you didn’t trip on your lace on the way here, then you wouldn’t have had to come.

“I know.” Bob sighs, “I know that now. And if I could go back, I would have told you. Warned you even if I ended up being the boy that cried wolf.”

You see his hands retract, no longer hovering over your shoulders. You don’t understand why he pulls his sleeves over his hands. But then he’s placing his, now covered, hands on your shoulders. The grip he has is strong, but not painful, “I need you to know. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never do anything to hurt you. Intentionally at least.”

“So you’d do it unintentionally?”

You’re being difficult. Intentionally. Mostly because he’s not making sense, what type of scumbag says he’d never hurt you intentionally. That’s like the bare minimum.

“There’s… A lot to explain. I’ll explain it all, if you’ll let me!” He’s leaning a bit now, bending at the knees to get a look into your eyes.

When you do meet his eyes, you can see the sincerity. They haven’t stopped glistening, still shiny with unshed tears. But it looks like he wants you to look into his soul, to understand that from deep in his core he is apologetic.

A scumbag wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t have covered their hands to prevent touching you. They wouldn’t have been trying so hard to get in contact with you.

So you nod.

You’ve agreed to meet him again. Not on a date, but for some answers.

He wants to do it today.

You tell him that you need time. To process or prepare, you’re not sure. But you know you need time.

Your feelings about him haven’t had the proper time to dissipate, so a small part of you still hopes that everything could work out.

—

When you do come around and text Bob that you’re ready to talk. His response comes almost immediately.

You invite him to your apartment. It’s more intimate than you would like, however it would save you the embarrassment of how you would end up if he were to send you to a ‘shame room’ again.

When Bob gets there, he's nervous. Just a little twitchy, not too much but enough to be noticeable.

He’s brought pastries. Something about his mother telling him to ‘never show up empty handed’ tumbles from his lips as he hands them to you.

You offer him a drink, like this is just going to be a fun catch up between pals.

Not sure what to expect, you lead Bob to your dining room table. It’s a good space to have this conversation, not too comfortable like the couch, but not too formal like standing near the door.

“So -” You can barely get it out of your mouth before Bob starts spilling his life story to you.

He doesn’t go too deep into any one topic, but he makes sure that you can paint a clear picture in your mind.

He had a rough childhood, never close with either of his parents. That led him to drugs, which then ebbed into addiction.

The addiction sent him all around the world, sometimes trying to get better, most times trying to find more, better, different drugs.

He ended up in Malaysia, they offered him a test run of some new drug. One that would make him ‘better’.

Everyone could be better, him more than others.

But then there's a blank slate in his memory. No recollection of what happened after they gave him the drug.

Until he ends up in some bunker with 3 of his 6 companions. They escaped together and have been working to make the world a ‘better place’.

“Wait. What do you mean you've been ‘working to make the world a better place’?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken since he went on his tangent, and Bob looks surprised that you had something to say.

“Well, they do. Not me, I focus on… Communications mostly. Because I don’t have a good enough grasp on my powers yet.”

“And what exactly do they do?”

“It’s uh - Classified?”

You scoff, “Classified..? What do you think you are? The Avengers?”

After you mutter your rhetorical question, Bob looks away.

“No way. You’re an Avenger?”

“Technically.” His heads down, leaving you to stare at his scalp instead of his eyes.

“And all the people you came into the shop with? They’re Avengers too?”

“Yeah. They’re more flashy. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t recognize them, to be honest.” He huffs out a laugh, seemingly glad that you’re actually taking part in the conversation now.

Your response is quiet, “It’s a psychological thing.”

Bob hums in response, urging you to continue.

“When you see someone, like a superhero, out of where your brain assumes they would be, most times you miss it. Some of your friends looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where I saw them, until now.”

“That’s… Wow, I never knew that.” Bob’s looking at you with a bit of awe in his eyes.

But then he’s straight back to business.

He tells you about how before, his bad days were bad and he’d black out. But now after the treatment, another, worse side of him has awakened.

That’s how he transported you into one of your worst memories.

“At least one person from the team stayed with me, all the time. That’s how it was when I first met you.” Bob’s tapping his fingers against the table, in a slow rhythmic pattern, “But then I wanted to take you out. And who goes on a date with a chaperone when we’re adults, right?”

“Yeah, right.” You’re laughing at him, or maybe with him.

“So, I started working on containing my powers more. Working on making them my own, so that I could be by myself. M-more like so I could be alone with you.”

“Just with me?”

He’s nodding, “Just with you. And it went really good! To the point where I could go out on all sorts of different errands by myself.”

His cup has started to sweat. All the condensation building up on it from being untouched this whole time. Because you care about your well loved table, you reach across and lift his cup before placing it on a coaster. It slows him down for a second before he can continue.

“It was the nerves. O-or at least I think it was the nerves. I don’t know for sure what causes it; nobody does.”

“So, you being nervous about being on a date made you send me to my own personal hell?”

“Being on a date, with you specifically, yes.”

The way he’s opened up to you has greatly increased your trust in him.

If everything he’s saying was true, he had a bad deal in life and he’s doing the best with what he’s got. The Bob you knew did have some confidence problems, taking a while to open up to you originally so it wouldn't be surprising that he would be nervous.

It also wouldn’t be surprising that him being nervous would send his powers out of wack. There’s been articles about it before, how super powered individuals don’t realize the way their emotions are affecting their powers before it’s too late.

And if he’s lying. You’d have to give him a shot for just how damn good of a lie it was. No one could lie that good without a purpose.

So you reach across the table, towards Bob’s fidgeting hand. His eyes aren’t looking up so you only know that he sees you when his fingers stop tapping.

“I want to try.” You gulp and take a steadying breath, “I’d like to try with you if I didn’t put you off too much.”

You’re not touching him. Even though you would be the one suffering, it only felt right for him to make the first move. Not wanting to overstep by triggering his powers again.

After a couple of seconds he still hasn’t moved. Hasn’t looked up at you, hasn’t grasped your hand, hasn’t even twitched his fingers.

Then, softly, like if he speaks too loud the room would crack around him, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m sure.”

Slowly, his hand rises up to meet yours. When they connect nothing changes.

No black tendrils crawling up your walls, no darkness consuming you with no escape, no flashbacks to things you don’t want to remember.

The only thing you feel is the warmth from Bob’s hand. The calluses on his palm, small, but still present. You feel the tender way his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

Once he realizes that nothing’s happening, he grips your hand tighter. It seems unconscious, the surprise from nothing bad happening overtaking him before he can stop it.

He’s beaming at you. A kiddish smile, one that allows all the joy to really shine through.

You’re no better. Smiling so wide that if you didn’t stop, your cheeks would start to hurt.

Everyone has baggage, some of them more than others. But that doesn’t mean that anyone is undeserving. Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t give someone a chance to prove that they can be more than their baggage.

You wouldn’t deprive yourself of this opportunity. Wouldn’t be so unkind to deprive Bob of it either. So with the promise that he would be honest with you. That he would communicate to you, the good and the bad, no matter what. You and Bob start your relationship.

Moving over to the couch, finally able to be comfortable, instead of cordial. The two of you settle into a movie, sitting close. Close enough to touch, but not actually touching.

Until halfway through, when your head comes to rest on his shoulder, and the blanket that you have resting on the back of the couch comes to rest over your laps.

Your curiosity over Bob may have ‘killed’ you, sending you into a week-long depression for many different reasons. Leading to you shutting out the world, not willing to accept the fact that you were wrong about him.

But the way that you’re feeling right now. Feeling Bob lifting his arm to wrap around your shoulders, letting your head fall onto his chest instead of his shoulder. Hearing his heart thumping in his chest, almost lulling you to sleep.

You know that this is satisfaction. It’s bloomed deep in your chest, taking a permanent residence there. Deeply rooted like it's attached to every neuron in you. And you know that it’s brought you back.

likes/comments/reblogs give me buffs to my character (greatly appreciated <3)

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds imagine #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #marvel x reader #robert reynolds #robert reynolds imagine #robert reynolds x reader #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#bob reynolds angst #bob reynolds x reader angst #bob reynolds x reader fluff #slowburn

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pinkaditty · 15 days ago

Text

Drunk Ghouls (Frostheim Part 1; Jin Kamurai and Tohma Ishibashi)

starting this off by saying THIS WAS SUPPOSED 2 BE LOW-EFFORT! A FEW PARAGRAPHS PER CHARACTER AT MOST! why do i do this 2 myself. note that these will probably vary in length per character bc i want 2 try. 2 keep it short. (update: i failed.)

woke up at 4:48am with a dry mouth thinking about haku nibbling my ear. anyways. that snowballed in2 this. enjoy.

a/n: also. side note that’s completely irrelevant but. im. so sick. of there not being enough words within language 2 express feelings i want 2 convey in my writing. does anyone else have that issue or am i just insane?? i complained about it 2 my therapist and she said “well. you know. you can make up words. shakespeare did and he really was ‘just some guy’.” and you know what. i might start fucking doing that. if some english white boy with black teeth and homosexual urges can make up words then so can i. i spent hours looking 4 a word that meant “to reluctantly pity someone/thing” but apparently that is a word that does not exist and im frustrated because saying “you felt reluctant pity towards [subject]” does NOT hit the same as “you felt [epic awesome word meaning ‘to reluctantly pity someone/thing’ here] towards [subject]”.

ok. im done. sorry.

summary: the ghouls are drunk. you are tasked with taking them back to their dorms.

cw: the ghouls are drunk!!!! some angst (?) in jin’s part, improper use of medication in tohma’s part, drunk ghouls, some fluff. never proofread, as usual. might be slightly ooc bc im never confident writing these ghouls and these are. unusual situations for them.

JIN:

Quite frankly, you don’t know what he was doing at Rui’s bar. And you don't care. You might be a little bitter that your initially relaxing evening got turned into yet another errand for the King of Frostheim. But, whatever. There was nothing you could do about it. If you didn’t bring the King back to his castle, who would?

He can hardly manage to support his own weight, so he's mostly leaning on you. You would've suggested he use his sword, but no chance were you going to let him swing that thing when he couldn’t even stand upright. He's quiet for most of the walk back. He'd occasionally groan in response to a killer headache, or gasp if he felt like he was going to vomit, but otherwise, he hardly made a sound. He kept his breathing even and his expression seemed quite flat. You wouldn't know he was drunk if he wasn’t tripping over the stone path and leaning his weight over you.

When you finally make it to Frostheim and into his bedroom, you haphazardly shove his limp body off your shoulder and onto his bed, on which he collapses without much complaint. You'd wanted to purposely ignore the state of his room so you wouldn't feel any semblance of pity towards him and reluctantly end up cleaning. You figure you could at least close his curtains so he isn't rudely awakened by the sun when it rises. But if you're being honest, you might want to leave them open so he gets his morning interrupted to rectify your interrupted evening.

Just as you’re about to head over to his curtains, you feel a hand close around your wrist. With an iron grip, Jin yanks you onto his bed. In moments, you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace, your cheek awkwardly pressed against his chest and your arms stiff at your sides, held there by his grip. You struggle, already aware that you don’t stand much of a chance, but protesting anyway. “Can you let me go?” Your words are unfortunately muffled with half of your face pressed into his chest. You don’t want to sound combative in the event he gets annoyed and you have to deal with annoyed drunk Jin instead of just drunk Jin, but you’re tired, it’s late, and you can hear the call of your bed in the chapel. It has never been more alluring.

Jin hugs you tighter to his chest in response, curling himself around you. You still, realizing that this may be a case where struggling will only make the “knot” tighter. “...No.” You feel his lips move against your hairline, making you shiver slightly. “Stay here.”

An order from the King is an order that you have the rare privilege of ignoring. You suppress your urge to struggle against his grip and use your words instead. “...I have classes in the morning.” The most basic excuse ever, but maybe he’d care about your education. “I’m still not well-versed in anomalies yet, and I only have so much time to learn—” Jin growls at the implication of the curse eventually ending your life, “—and I don’t want to fall behind.”

Jin is silent for a moment, and his grip loosens just slightly. It’s not enough to escape, but it allows you some wiggle room. You try not to move, remaining still. He appears deep in thought. If you play your cards right, maybe you’d get back to the chapel sooner than expected.

Unfortunately, luck is not on your side. Jin ends up pulling you closer, and you’re right back to square two, his body curled around you and you pressed against his front. “You will have time.” He speaks against your hairline again, his warm breath puffing against your forehead. You muse that you’re lucky you can’t smell the booze on his breath. You helplessly sigh, yielding to his grip and loosening your tight shoulders. You weren’t going to be free anytime soon. You’re submitting yourself to your fate when he adds “...I’ll hire you a tutor. Stay here.”

For a moment, his offer strikes you as thoughtful. But then you’re reminded that the reason you’re here is because he refuses to let you go, which isn’t very thoughtful. Regardless, with his arms cinched this tight around you, you couldn’t complain much for fear of him squeezing the life out of you a bit too early.

You grumble, but ultimately relent, unable to fight against his superhuman strength and his ability to solve all his (and your) problems with money. You lay there, not reciprocating his affection but not resisting it either, becoming less and less sure of how much time has passed. You wish you had access to your phone or something to keep you busy. You were too awake, pressed flush against the King of Frostheim, whose body temperature was quite warm from an entire evening drinking and whose light cologne was beginning to tickle your nose. You were overly warm, wiggling your nose to keep from sneezing, and craving your bed. This was becoming miserable.

Jin’s breathing slowly becomes even. You know it would be rash to assume he’s fallen asleep, but if he’s distracted enough, maybe you could slip away. As you start to move a little bit, trying to very gently shimmy yourself out of his grip, you hear him murmur something.

“Please…”

You freeze. Was he still awake? You can’t look up, still pressed to his chest and your head directly underneath his, but you can listen. You stay still, hoping by some miracle he falls back asleep. His breathing sounds uneven again and you can hear his heart loudly thumping against his ribcage.

“Just stay here with me… Just a little while longer…”

Something in you lurches suddenly. That’s right. The great Frostheim King has experienced a deep loss before. You weren’t there to witness his reaction when the news got out, but you had heard about it. The loss of a parent was something one tended to carry for the rest of their life, especially if they were close.

Idly, you wondered if he feared the rumors the news attempted to spread. His mother had succumbed to a hereditary illness. Did he fear that one day, he, too, would have to watch his world crumble around him, unable to make sense of anything anymore? Did he fear that his cognitive function would rot along with his ability to express emotion properly? Did he fear the loss of himself as much as he hated the loss of his mother? Did he see himself in that grave instead of his mother?

A begruding empathy fills you. You didn’t like how Jin called you “servant”. You didn’t like how Jin found it perfectly acceptable to order you around. You didn’t like how he would interrupt your routine simply because he believed his needs mattered more. And yet. Your thinking reminds you that he’s still human. You aren’t sure if it’s this fear that drives him, or if it’s what keeps him awake at night and makes him sleep through the day, but it’s still a fear, isn’t it? A real, reasonable fear. He’s still a human. A human who made a deal with a demon and proceeded to devour said demon, permanently changing him, but a human nonetheless. The fear was real and it was reflected in his heartbeat, still thumping loudly against his chest.

You sigh, relaxing into his grip again. Slowly, you lift one of your arms as best you can under his iron grip and place it on his side, minimally reciprocating his grip. Maybe some comfort would do him some good, even if lackluster.

He seems to relax into your touch almost immediately. You still aren’t sure if he’s awake or not, but his grip gets more comfortable, though not any less tight. You sigh again, considering this a half-victory at best.

As you relax into his chest, you note his heartbeat slowing down. His breathing slowly becomes even again. You don’t really want to smile at having successfully calmed down Jin himself, but you allow yourself a small curve to the corner of your lips.

Eventually, his steadily beating heart and even breathing lull you into a peaceful doze. At least with his head above yours, maybe he’d be the first to suffer the morning rays.

TOHMA:

Seeing Tohma drunk is like learning vampires were real. You’d never completely written off the possibility, but learning it’s a concept with genuine merit instead of a mere myth is more jarring than you’d expect. And lugging Tohma across campus back to Frostheim proves to be quite challenging. His days in Vagastrom were well-reflected in his crushing weight, and his particularly long legs made it hard to maneuver yourself and him simultaneously in a way that prevented either of you from toppling over. Next time, if this ever happens again, you’re getting a wagon. Lugging a long-legged beefcake across campus wasn’t doing wonders for your back.

He hardly makes any noise, and seems more uncomfortable than anything. He doesn’t resist your help, but squirms uncomfortably when you try to support him at his waist, and winces at any loud noise on campus. You wonder if something’s wrong with him, but can’t be bothered to pay too much attention when you’re already breaking your back trying to get him back to his dorm.

When you finally tumble inside his room at Frostheim, he shrugs himself off of you, cradling his head. You’re offended for a few moments at his lack of thanks, but you notice his stumbling beeline towards a pill bottle on his dresser. Time seems to slow as you recognize the medication. Alprazolam. The same medication Leo exposed Tohma for taking regularly. It takes a moment for the dots to connect, but once they do, a small surge of panic shoots down your spine. He probably shouldn’t be taking those, not after drinking alcohol.

“Tohma—”

Too late. He gulps a few down—dry, at that—and promptly shuffles over to his bed. He crumples onto it and eases himself onto his side, pressing his fingers into his temples, his face twisted into a pained expression. You groan inwardly.

You have half a mind to drag him off to Mortkranken to see Yuri—or Professor Nicolas, at worst—but your back hurts at the mere idea of that and you were sure Yuri would be less than happy to see another Frostheim student in need of treatment at his dorm. You watch him carefully, peering at his unmoving form. If you were lucky, maybe you wouldn’t need to. Ghouls heal quicker, and hopefully the effects of the alcohol would wear off faster. Regardless, you couldn’t leave him alone, lest he spontaneously stopped breathing due to the combined effects of the alcohol and the medication. So it looks like you’re stuck here for a while.

Tohma hardly seems to notice that you’re in the same room, and barely responds when you hesitantly seat yourself next to him. The smallest flicker of acknowledgement in his expression, and that’s it. His eyes are screwed shut, and his usual sardonic smile is long gone, replaced with a pained frown. Witnessing Tohma’s emotions clear on his face was an unusual sight, but you’re aware he can probably feel your gaze, so you turn away. You make sure to glance at him on occasion, ensuring his body still rises and falls with his breathing.

You aren’t sure how much time passes as you sit there, watching Tohma out of the corner of your eye. But after some time, he slowly relaxes, the tension melting from his expression and lifting from his shoulders. He gradually takes on a more relaxed position, moving his hands from his temples and blinking his eyes partially open, his lips slightly parted with light exhales. He doesn’t move much apart from that, still in a fetal-like position.

Trying not to disturb him too much, you lean over him just slightly, checking his complexion. His gaze slides over to you, though he makes no other move to acknowledge you. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem any paler than he usually is. His breathing has remained steady. You assume the Alprazolam kicked in at last, but it appears some of the alcohol is still in his system, what with the slight pink flush on his cheeks, and his bangs sticking to his forehead. You find yourself reaching out before you know it, but quickly retract your hand. Surely he’d be fine. Maybe you were overthinking it.

You turn away and breathe a sigh of relief. You’re readjusting your position, wondering if you should leave or not, when a gloved hand takes hold of yours. You turn to Tohma questioningly, but you don’t resist as he pulls your hand towards him. You freeze up when he places a chaste kiss to your knuckles, before the ghost of his usual, haunting smile reappears on his face. You pray internally that him kissing your knuckles wasn’t a sign of impaired judgement and rather an honest reaction. You’d prefer that over really having to drag him to Mortkranken. “Thank you for taking the time to look after me, Miss Inspector. I apologize that you have to see me in such a state.” Well, at least he doesn’t sound out of breath. That must be a good sign. And, finally, you’d got your thanks.

You simply shake your head, signaling to him not to worry about it. You stretch your hand in his grasp and press your thumb into the center of his forehead. As if on cue, the flimsy smile he put on melts away, replaced by a more neutral, calm expression. You think you might prefer him like this.

You can’t very well leave with his hand still around yours, but you aren’t actively complaining. You had already accepted you would be here a while. You yawn, feeling your own exhaustion catch up with you. You stretch, or at least, do the best you can with one of your hands held hostage.

Tohma speaks up again. “May I make a selfish request, Miss Inspector?”

You turn back towards him curiously. The look in his eyes is surprisingly earnest despite the lack of any active emotion twisting his face. You would think he was about to confess something serious, with the way his blue eyes seemed to zero in on you. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, instead pulling your hand closer to him again. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss your knuckles again, and you stiffen, preparing yourself. However, Tohma flips your hand so your palm is facing up, and gently places his cheek within your palm. You look at him questioningly, not pulling away. You wonder if this is better or worse than simply receiving another kiss to your knuckles, because you’re honestly not sure. Any more signs of this and you might actually haul him to Mortkranken.

“I’m terribly sorry to be requesting so much of you. But if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could stay with me tonight.” You’re partially caught off-guard by his bold question and partially wondering how he manages to maintain such eloquence when drunk and under the influence. You try not to let too much of a blush color your face, turning away from him slowly to make it look like you’re mulling the question over. The warmth of his cheek in your palm was surprisingly soothing. The weight of him was already becoming familiar. It was strange.

Well, not much point in resisting this, anyway. You’d already accepted you’d be here a while.

You sigh, tilting your head towards the ceiling before slowly leaning back and easing yourself onto his bed next to him, letting that be your answer. You think you feel the gentle press of lips against the corner of your palm, but you pretend to ignore it, even as your cheeks color.

If you both fell asleep like this, hopefully he’d still be breathing by morning.

if i made up new words using my limited knowledge of latin, french, and creole and put their definitions in my masterlist and used them in my writing would that be too much. am i crazy.

ok real quick: in case it wasn't like. glaringly obvious. tohma's written to have anxiety here. i know he claims to take those pills for headaches BUT i wouldn't be surprised if he has some level of anxiety.

OK ANYWAY i wrote these two fics bc i felt inspired. drunk ghouls. what might they do? kaito and luca will come out but i have no idea when. and then ill move on 2 vagastrom.

shameless note as per usual that i love likes, but especially comments, tagged reblogs, and asks detailing how much you liked my work! let me know if you enjoyed it!

songs i listened 2 while writing this:

here (in your arms) - hellogoodbye (cute song about falling in love and enjoying the time you spend with said person in their arms. felt fitting 2 the theme.)

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow @dailyvahine @diluxama @obscuarysghoulnextdoor @disassociationdive @andy-solo1 @luna-v-roiya

want 2 join or be removed from the tkdb taglist? let me know!

#minors dni #tkdb #tokyo debunker #tdb #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker mc #tokyo debunker jin #tokyo debunker tohma ishibashi #tokyo debunker tohma #jin kamurai #tohma ishibashi #jin kamurai x reader #tohma ishibashi x reader #jin kamurai x mc #tohma ishibashi x mc

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serpentinewriting · 1 month ago

Text

LET ME SEE YOUR RUNWAY WALK

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━

Where Sephiroth gets fucked in a black mini skirt.

INCLUDES : Cross-dressing, bottom Sephiroth, top male reader, established relationship, pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth.

NOTES : There are no bottom Sephy x male reader fics here...don't worry fellas, I'm here to change that ᕙ(‾̀◡‾́)ᕗ Also Sephiroth is probably ooc here as I've only played the og ff7 and don't know a lot about the character's lore outside of that.

This is also my first time writing ever, let alone smut so I rlly hope you enjoy!

━━━━━━━━━ 𓆗 ━━━━━━━━━

"Sephiroth..?" you call gently.

You're met with silence. You're sitting anxiously on the bed waiting for your lover to show himself.

You had miraculously convinced him to wear a mini skirt in an attempt to conquer some of his fears surrounding intimacy.

It was actually Sephiroth himself who had asked you to buy him some racy clothing to step out of his comfort zone. He wasn't entirely sure what he meant when he brought up the idea to you, but he certainly wasn't thinking about something so...feminine.

You had mentioned wearing a skirt when listing off many different items of clothing you thought he could try and, for some reason, it stuck in his mind.

So now here he is, standing hesitantly in the bathroom and staring at himself in the mirror.

"Sephiroth?" You call again. "Is everything okay?"

He gulps nervously. He wants to impress you, but the only word he can use to describe his current appearance is embarrassing.

"Yes," he responds quietly.

"Sephiroth, we don't have to do this," you reassure him. "You can take it off if you don't feel comfortable."

You're starting to feel guilty - maybe you've pushed him too far out of his comfort zone.

"No," Sephiroth states flatly.

"You want to take it off?" You ask.

"No," Sephiroth states again, more confidently this time.

"Oh, okay," you're slightly stunned at his unpredictability. "Don't worry, just take your time-"

You're cut off by the bathroom door suddenly opening and revealing the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

You can't stop your jaw from dropping slightly as your eyes travel down Sephiroth's form.

He's standing timidly in the doorway with his hands in front of him in a poor attempt to cover himself.

He's wearing a white shirt that's unbuttoned just enough to expose a slither of his chest whilst leaving the rest to the imagination.

Then, of course, the star of the show - a black skirt that just covers his crotch and lets his thighs remain visible. The fabric tightly hugs his figure and rides up just a little bit when he shifts self-consciously.

"Wow," you gawk like a fourteen year old boy seeing tits for the first time (which, in a certain sense, you suppose you are).

"[Name…]” Sephiroth whines, turning his head away as a heavy blush creeps across his face. "This is humiliating."

"Come here," you tell him softly.

Without making eye contact, he makes his way over to the bed, awaiting your next comment.

"Turn around."

He nearly whimpers in shame as he immediately faces the other way, allowing you to fully appreciate his curves and the tiniest glimpse of his ass peeking out from the skirt.

You reach out and run your fingers up the side of his thigh and he shivers at the touch. Your hand slips underneath the fabric and you discover that he isn't wearing any underwear.

That'll be why he was so desperate to cover himself.

You grin before standing up and flipping your positions. You push your chest into his back, forcing Sephiroth to bend over and grant you a devilish view. His hands desperately grasp at the sheets below to steady himself as your own snake around his hips and carefully pull the fabric of the skirt up halfway.

Sephiroth gasps at the exposure and the feeling of your thumbs tenderly caressing his skin.

"You look so pretty, angel..." you whisper and he croons in response.

Your touch drifts up his ass before leaving. Sephiroth's head whips round in confusion, but he's relieved to see you're just removing your clothing. He relaxes and props himself up on his elbows instead of his hands, fighting the urge to arch his back and fully present himself to you.

He instantly loses that fight the second he feels your warm cock slide between his ass. He bites back a moan as he feels you tease his hole, steadily grinding against him.

He pushes back slightly, completely pressing himself against you. His soft skin paired with the added friction of the skirt makes you groan.

Sephiroth huffs impatiently.

"Enough, [Name]," he pants. "Please, I need more."

You pull back and reach into your bedside drawer and grab the bottle of lube. Whilst you're distracted, Sephiroth reaches back to pull the skirt up above his hips, fully displaying himself to you.

When you look back at him you freeze for a moment. Sephiroth smirks at you.

"Well?" He teases. "Don't keep me waiting, [Name]."

You chuckle, regaining your composure and positioning yourself behind him like before.

You pour a generous amount of lube onto Sephiroth's ass, cautious not to get any on the skirt. Tenderly, you push one finger into him and he mewls at the sensation.

"Please, love," he practically begs. "Not like this, you're being too cruel-"

"Patience, sweetheart," you soothe him, delicately running your unoccupied hand through his silver locks to ease him. "You spent all this time getting ready for me, let me enjoy myself, hm?"

Sephiroth turns to look at you again. His bangs messily cover his eyes, yet you know he's glaring.

After a little while, which felt like forever to Sephiroth, you push in another finger, then another and slowly push them in and out. Your lover makes small rocking movements, trying to match yours but it simply isn't enough.

"[Name]..." he breathed, need lacing his voice.

"Alright, baby," you pull your fingers out and pat his hip gently.

He wiggles his hips in arousal as you bring your cock to his entrance. You push the tip in and Sephiroth purrs with excitement. You stretch him so nicely as your dick fills him up.

Once you bottom out, you give him a moment to adjust and he eagerly rubs his ass against you.

Taking his hint, you begin thrusting into him and his eyes flutter shut. Tiny pants leave him and his own abandoned cock rubs against the fabric of his skirt. He reaches down and grabs his dick through the material, jerking himself off in a pathetic rhythm.

As you fuck into him faster, Sephiroth feels himself starting to reach his breaking point. There's something so erotic about him being in such a slutty outfit whilst you pound him. Eventually, he can't keep up with your pace and drops his hand back onto the bed, this time arching his back more to press his dick further into the skirt.

It's only now that you realise what he's doing and you cease your movements, earning a clueless cry from Sephiroth as his eyes snap open.

"Ah-ah," you scold. "We don't want to ruin your lovely skirt, do we?"

Wide-eyed, Sephiroth glances down and sees he's smeared precum all over said skirt. He tries to hide it with his hand.

Unimpressed, you pull out and manhandle him onto his back, dragging him fully onto the bed. You climb on top of him and lick up his jaw, trapping him between you and the pillows.

“I was hoping I’d be able to see you in this again,” you whisper into his ear. “But that won’t happen if you make a mess of it.”

You settle between his spread legs, the skirt now looking more like a belt with how far it’s ridden up, and begin undoing his shirt fully.

Sephiroth blushes even harder and hides his face with his hand as his beautiful chest is now on show.

Like a starved man, you dive in and immediately plant bites and kisses all over his pecs, earning several choked gasps from Sephiroth.

“[Name]…” he murmurs, struggling to keep himself composed.

Satisfied, you pull back and align yourself with his hole again before shoving your dick all the way in.

Sephiroth moans and quickly covers his mouth with his hand.

You let the action slide and instead focus on the delightful sight of your lover’s hole swallowing you fully. You know Sephiroth is embarrassed by his attire and don’t want to make it worse.

You hold his knees up to your shoulders as you slam into him, your arousal making it difficult to control yourself.

Quiet pants and whimpers from Sephiroth spur you on. His useless cock bounces between you, spurting more and more precum onto the skirt, much to your disappointment.

The man beneath you notices your staring and hastily moves to shield his cock with the skirt. You immediately shove his hand away and wrap one of yours around his base.

Sephiroth yelps and looks up at you with adorable, helpless eyes. As you jerk him off, you lean forward, keeping Sephiroth’s legs rested on your shoulders.

Your dick now repeatedly hammers into a particularly sweet spot inside of him and before he can stop it, tears start brimming in Sephiroth’s eyes.

He cups your face in his hands and you lock eyes with him, admiring his teared-up and fucked-out expression.

“M-My love…I’m c-close!” He stutters, hoping you won’t tease him any further.

And you don’t. You keep thrusting into him and continue moving your hand up and down and up and down and—

“A-Ah! Ah~!” Sephiroth lets out one final whimper as his body tenses, his hole clenching around you.

His cum lands all over his skirt and his chest.

You follow soon after and Sephiroth hums in pleasure as he feels your warmth spill into him.

You both lie still for a few moments, listening to each other’s heavy breathing.

Slowly, you pull out of him and have to restrain yourself as you watch your cum seep out of him. When you look up, you see that the skirt has been officially ruined as white stains cover it.

“What a shame…” you think aloud, gently lifting Sephiroth’s legs off your shoulders and bringing them back onto the bed. “You looked so beautiful in it, angel.”

Sephiroth’s sly smirk returns to his face as he calmed down.

“A shame indeed,” he says under his breath.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s already planning to buy another skirt. Or perhaps several.

𓆚

#top male reader #bottom sephiroth #sephiroth x male reader #bottom sephiroth x top male reader #ff7 x male reader #first post

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impactedfates · 8 months ago

Text

"Fighting over the bill" - Aventurine x GN!Reader

★ Summary: Aventurine w/ a gift giving S/O who refuses to let him pay for anything :3

☆ Characters Included: Aventurine (Romantic) + IPC (Supporting)

★ Genre/Trope: Established Relationship + Crack (?)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Aventurine may be OOC // Not proof read // Bullet Point format // Short // I think I lost track part way through so uh, sorry

Aventurine stares blankly at you as he watches the credits he was about to give to the cashier slowly fall to the ground. You stare back unblinking as you slowly hand over your own credits to the cashier who awkwardly takes it.

"...You know, the person who asked the other out usually pays"

"And?"

"...And I asked you out so I should've-"

"Well...I wanted to pay. You can pay next time"

You quickly reply, not giving much room to negotiate, not like he could've done anything. The cashier had already taken your money, he could only sigh and chuckle as he goes to pick up the forgotten credits on the ground.

"Well, I hope that means our first date was satisfactory"

He smiles, noticing your eager nod. He'll make sure he pays next time, he has a ton of credits to spend anyways

"WAIT, DON'T LET THEM PAY"

He calls out as he tries to reach you quickly. it was your guys second date, despite your statement that he could pay this time, when you left to get ready he noticed you walking to the front to pay. The person at the counter could only laugh, taking your card.

"Too late, sorry sir"

You smiled triumphantly at him, a sneaky smile on your lips. He shook his head in response, oh how he wished he could playfully lecture you on paying for him again when he should've paid this time.

But you looked rather pretty with that proud smile. He can let it slide this time

"Happy anniversary Kakavasha!!"

You call happily, wandering over to him, a gift behind your back. He smiled warmly in return, patting your head playfully.

"I thought we agreed to meet later, miss me that much?"

"Yes"

A small blush crept on his cheeks at your quick reply. Even after dating for a year he still couldn't get used to the fact you actually loved him.

"Oho? Is Mr Aventurine getting flustered"

Called out an all too familiar voice from behind, he turns to Topaz slightly rolling his eyes.

"Nope, just happy to see my lover"

He turns to you again, noticing your eager smile as he placed his attention back on you. You quickly reveal the bag of gifts you got him, handing it to him.

He takes it with a smile and looks inside, nearly choking on air. He had expected perhaps just matching clothes, perhaps it was just one gift with a bunch of paper to help protect it. Topaz leaned forward to see what had gotten her co-worker so tongue twisted before letting out a small laugh.

"Man that bag is filled with gifts, you like to spoil him huh [Name]?"

"I just think he deserves the gifts, most of them were from our last date. I saw him eyeing some of these things but not buying anything. Wanted to get him it"

Aventurine coughed into his hand and pulled you in for a hug. He had never felt such care from someone in so long. He really did choose the right person. He had fallen for the best person.

"Nuh uh, [Name]"

"What!? Why?"

You looked at your boyfriend with a pout, crossing your arms as he holds up your wallet that he managed to take without your knowledge.

"You've paid for me too much now honey. You didn't even need to. Let me treat you, okay? I'm a Stoneheart, remember?"

You grumble under your breath, before agreeing. Aventurine puts your wallet away in his own pocket before walking around with you in the mall. Placing any item you even show the slightest interest in, into the cart.

"I feel bad that you had to pay..."

"Pfft, sweetheart, how many times have you pay for me at this point?"

You stayed silent, looking away with a blush.

"Take my card!"

"Love, not again"

Aventurine and you start bickering (lovingly) as you tried to pay once again. Didn't help that the whole of the IPC was there, laughing at the display.

"Wow, they still haven't stopped fighting for the bill?"

"Seems that's the case, but I wonder. Dinner is nearing an end, once both of them finally agree on who pays. Do you think there'll be time for little Aventurine to pop the question?"

Jade laughs, leaning her head on her hand as she watches. Now all of the IPC could offer to pay instead, but why bother when this small argument is much more entertaining?

Topaz leans back in her seat with a knowing smile. For she was the only one to know that both you and Aventurine had gotten each other a ring. She knew another small (loving) fight would break out once you two show the ring. Questioning each other about the prices even though the both of you got something expensive for the other.

Heyyy...hey....

Finally back from my break yippee?...Haha...

I think I lost track from what it was meant to be about but hopefully this is still a decent read

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you

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iqxatlantic · 3 months ago

Text

" TEACHER'S PET ! "

if i'm so special, why am i secret?

ft. itoshi rin . aged up! characters . university! au 😽 . english professor! rin . ooc! rin . smut ?. rin's a listener and a yapper . rin's a bitch . reader's a little delusional . implied afab! reader . reader lowkey locked in his class . reader has raging daddy issues lmfao . uni student x prof (yea its legal.) . no the age gap isn't huge . potentially dark . manipulation . finger sucking . drabble . open ending . yes im projecting . unreliable narrator

cw: dub-con ?

wc: 0.6k

you had an odd obsession with your english professor — itoshi rin. can't blame you. he's young, charming and demonstrates excellence beyond expectations when it comes to english.

the beginning of the semester, you and a couple of friends did some 'stalking' (is it stalking if its just handling your resources well..?) the whole group found out he used to play pro in soccer. could this man get anymore perfect?!

you knew your infatuation over this man was um, quite fucking weird. it felt like those wattpad stories, falling in love with your teacher and then ugh.. you were kind of grossed out.

it felt almost incestuous sometimes. (cus u saw him as a father figure sometimes icl) you lied to yourself (maybe you weren't lying), " it's only because he listens to me." was it because you lacked a father figure in your life? (freud... sigmund freud...)

so how'd it get here? perched on your professor's lap as his calloused hands roams around, tracing your curves. "[name], as my ahem. well-achieved student... why isn't your group assignment finished?" rin whispered, his voice deep and cold.

holy shit, saying things in the most panty soaking tone eveeer.... "sir, i did my share of work.. what my group members didn't do isn't my responsibi-" his finger was pressed onto your lips, leaving you in silence.

"ah. i never asked for excuses," he murmured. the raven haired man pushed you off his lap. "strip." "wha-" "i don't think i stuttered, did i?" his voice could've cut ice oh my gosh. "you're already here so, strip."

you complied to his demands — not that you had a choice anyways. it was irrational to do so. however, your body moved faster than your brain did. faster than your morals. faster than your own self-respect. you craved this man. or maybe you just craved the validation he gave.

there you were. in front of your favourite professor, naked. your clothes weren't the only thing that was stripped in that moment. your dignity was too. this burning fantasy you've had no longer seemed to deem itself as a fantasy. rather, it was more of horror.

you no longer wanted to stay in this classroom. you wanted to run off. you stayed in your spot, frozen. the professor, with haste, made his way to you. a small chuckle left the man, "what impression do you think will be left on you when your friends or classmates see you like this..? my top student..." he cooed.

his voice disgustingly sweet, he was giving the validation you always wanted. he was mocking you. the guilt burned through you. so did those words. rin made his way back to his chair. sitting down. eyeing you. a signal to 'come on, move.'

shame was poured all over you as you found yourself back on rin's lap. he took a sharp and deep inhale, savouring your smell. rin felt intoxicated by your scent. which is questionable..

the atmosphere felt so suffocating. it was as if you were held against your will (maybe you were idk, your call babes)

rin slid his cold fingers into your mouth. in response, you unwillingly (yet willingly?) sucked on them. hoping for some sort of praise, tears threatening to spill out. it felt so good despite how disgusting it truly was. you found yourself grueling wet, grinding against his thigh.

innocently gazing into his teal orbs. a slow smirk curl onto Rin’s lips. no, it wasn't the fact he had power over you. this expression felt awfully safe...

"[name], [name]? wake up!" someone was shaking you. your eyes fluttered open. to your surprise, it was your professor. and a scene of students leaving classroom.

"would you like to stay so i can re-explain the lesson to you? it's quite crucial for your future writing career."

— ©iqxatlantic / isaisliterallyhim, 2025

a/n: holy cow two posts a week!? (i can't count.) btw, so sorry if u would never act like this. ( and i hope u never do, dont get attached to ur instructors ) yea so this wasn't proofread at all.. which is ironic because im talking about rin being an english professor.. he would so beat me up 💀💀 i fear this was HEAVY projecting... and yes i blame my eng prof for sparking this idea within me.. wattpad ahh idea... why am i thirsting over a man 14 years older hello 😭😭 it's always the half gers ;-; is this dark content..? je ne sais pas. 😓 also why am i so fried when it comes to psychology wtf.

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 months ago

Note

Can I please request Bill thinking he finally found a human who won't betray him, someone he really enjoyed the company of (but would never admit to that because Bill) only to find them trying to destroy the portal?

This is long as shit, be warned and I tried to keep bill in character as much as possible but he might be ooc at some points.

Your first meeting with Bill was one he didn’t expect. When faced with something you know isn’t normal, the response Bill was expecting was you running away until you were out of sight, talking off the ears of anyone who’d head your warning but you instead smiled at him.

‘Nice bow tie and top hat sentient triangle.’ You said.

‘The names Bill Cipher, so you can stop calling me that name, I find it rather insulting, and thanks! I dress to impress but most people just run away or scream bloody murder to appreciate my effort to look presentable’ he replies, finding himself a new human pet to play with after swearing to himself that Sixer would be the last, Bill was a liar and he knew it, messing with humans and destroying their physique was the most genuine fun he’s had in a long, long while.

This was merely the begging of yours and Bills weird friendship and it was only going to get weirder from this point onwards.

Being friends with a sentient triangle dream demon was…a experience indeed as you’d often wake to him floating above you, drinking something through a silly straw and wearing a hat unlike the usual slim black top hat he wore, only to find out that he had somehow snuck several chicken into your room that had scaly dragon legs and could breath fire.

That took a while for you to get ride of them with a wooden broom and not have it set on fire when the chickens retaliate with fire.

‘How did you find such things?’ You’d ask Bill when sitting down to eat breakfast.

He shrugs. ‘You search for a realm that swaps certain anatomy of animals and play a demented game of mix and match to see what monstrosities to humanity could be made and bingo! Infinite possibilities of scaring or scaring people for the rest of their lives! ha ha!’

‘And chickens with dragon feet and could breath fire is your go to choice, wasn’t there anything else you could’ve chosen from?’ You inquired as you took a bite of your breakfast and immediately grimacing when you felt something was off.

‘Oh sure there was and- oh you’ve found where I put my mealworms from last week.’ Bill casually told you as he plays with his silly straw while you spat your breakfast out into a nearby bin, wiped your mouth before pushing the plate away from you as your appetite was ruined.

'glad to be of help. buddy.' you replied as you decided that it would be best to wait for bill to disappear before attempting to eat and or drink again.

As the weeks progress Bill found himself enjoying your company more than he originally suspected, sure you were fun to mess with and play impractical pranks on from time to time. However -and he’ll never admit this ever- he had come to actually enjoy spending time with you and getting to know you outside of his personal human plaything.

Bill begrudgingly remembered your least favourite family member and why, your favourite colour, your first pets name and so much more that he would deem unimportant; to things that were deep and personal to you such as your fear of being alone or not taken seriously enough. To which he offered some -albeit questionable- advice.

‘Listen if everyone takes themselves seriously or someone wants everyone else to take them seriously, then who’s going to laugh at kids when they fall over, or at people who make an fool of themselves as they fall upon their own sword of hubris.’ Bill tells you once as you both sat on the roof of your home, star gazing.

‘And what am I meant to take away from all that ?’ You asked, not understanding what he was getting with this.

‘Don’t take yourself too seriously or expect others to either when you know that version of yourself will be someone you’ll sooner regret wishing for.’ Bill responded.

‘Do you miss home?’ You then asked him out of the blue and Bill couldn’t help but be a little taken aback by it.

‘Home..’ bill trailed off as he took his hat off, reached a hand inside and pulled out a glowing atom, the remains of his home. ‘This is what remains of my home.’ He tells you rather sombrely, remembering the last time he told a human of his origins, only for him to dedicate himself into destroying him.

‘I’m..I’m so sorry I didn’t-‘ you’d tried to apologise but bill held up a hand as he returned the remains of his home back into his top hat before putting it back on his head.

‘It’s fine. I was bound to tell you about that sooner or later.’ He waves his hand but you could tell you struck a nerve.

‘Sooo…what happened to your home, only if you don’t mind me asking.’ - you

‘It was destroyed by a monster.’ Bill answered with a distant look in his eye.

‘As stupid as this will probably sound to you but you’ll always have a home with me, I hope you know that.’ You told him with the most genuine smile across your face and Bill couldn’t help but feel…touched by your words. He’s thrown and done everything to push you to the brink and all you’ve done was withstand him and his shenanigans all the while standing your ground.

‘You’re a strange human and your sentimentality makes me physically sick but…I guess I appreciate the thought.’ Bill had to force himself to say, he might as well have swallowed down stones with how hard it seemed for him to say anything remotely considerate. You were quite possibly the only human that showed him kindness and compassion and that made the dream demon feel weird and out of his depth.

Now that Bill was thinking about it not once had you ever given him a reason to distrust you, sure he was suspicious of you at first, but overtime you have proven yourself to be the most trustworthy person in his long, long life. You had made him feel unlike anything he’s felt before and that made him on edge, just in the case that he was being lured into a false sense of security later down the line, but nope you didn’t do such a thing and stayed open and honest him no matter what.

It almost made bill feel bad about the shit he put you through but soon he’d come to regret saying these words, for not even a week later and Bill caught you red handed destroying his portal after searching the house for you when you didn’t greet him like usual.

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’ He screamed, his body burning brightly at the betrayal you’ve just committed, was everything you said a lie? Were you just as good at pulling people along as he was? How long have you been waiting for this exact moment to get back at him?

‘What does it look like, I’m destroying the portal.’ Your reply was stone cold as you continued to dismantle the portal piece by piece while Bill shouted profanities at you.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ - bill

‘That’s cute coming from someone who takes sick enjoyment in breaking every human he comes across, pushing them into utter madness with no remorse!’ You chuckled humourlessly as you looked at the dream demon who looked about ready to either cry or combust.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ Bill repeated as his anger only grew stronger the more he began to think back on all of your heart to heart moments and wonder whether they were fake too? Did you not mean it when you said that he had a home with you?

‘I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.’ You retorted. ‘Now are you going to shut up and kill me or keep ranting on how I somehow betrayed you because either way I don’t care.’ You added as you watched the triangular demon closely.

‘Kill you? Oh no sweetie, you’ve just earned a fate WORSE THEN DEATH! Eternal torture until you speak the truth and then torture you so more because I find your pathetic humans pain funny!’ Bill laughed maniacally. ‘And to think I was starting to like you, you just had to go and stab me in the back!’

You shrug, trying to hide how scared you were in this moment, knowing that even if you did scream for help it would be far too late by the time Ford, Stan or either dipper or Mabel to save you and you were okay with that. ‘First time for everything right?’ You asked with a smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll get use to it sooner or later.’

Bill’s eye was wide and looking maniacal in the moment as his voice was oddly and unnervingly calm that it froze your blood. ‘You humans might act brave in the face of danger, but what I’m capable will have you wishing you never picked up that wrench or tried playing the hero. For playtime is over.’

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls imagine #gravity falls imagines #gravity Falls x you #gravity falls #the book of bill #bill cipher x you #bill cipher imagine #bill cipher imagines #bill cipher x reader

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rsventhesecondd · 8 months ago

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headcannons, ┓

→ Featuring . Hayato Suo as your FUBU ← •

☁️┆ ⤿ request by @anon 👻 ༺ ╰ ღ WBK : requests open ╯🦢

HAYATO SUO as your fubu — head cannons ! •

warnings . contains nsfw , fluff , all characters used are aged up to 18 , f!reader + not proof read yet . note . some parts may seem rushed or ooc in other peoples opinion. english isn't my first language, so please bare with oncoming vocabulary or grammatic mistakes. ๑❛ᴗ❛๑ authors note . this is slightly rushed since I had to do something in the midst of editing this draft , but nevertheless— please enjoy reading !

fubu!hayato , who fucks you in the most ridiculous places. Behind a random dark alleyway , inside a bathroom during a party your friend hosted , and everywhere else you could think of.

" W-Wait, what the hell Hayato! We're gonna get caugh— " He cuts you off with a kiss. "Don't worry [name] , nobody really goes here. Atleast for now" Suo assures with his signature smile, a small glint forming in his eye.

fubu!hayato , who knows your body more than you do. He knows which buttons to press , that spot that makes your head turn back from the pleasure, how you act when you're close, – eyes rolling back. He's fully confident that he's probably ruined your future experiences— well if you'll have one other than him.

"What about here? How does it feel?" He questions grazing a a specific spot, causing you to turn your head back– a moan in response. "Do tell me, pretty girl. Remember, closed mouths don't get fed" He added, curling up his fingers in the process.

fubu!hayato , who's such a sadist, getting turned on by your humiliation, begging him to fuck you raw— your whimpers when he angles his hips to reach that spot, or when you call out his first name. You're just too adorable for him, how could he refrain from teasing such cute girl like you?

"The ropes aren't too tight, is it [name]?" He asks in a slightly worried tone. He wouldn't want to hurt his precious doll too much. " No-no.. , " You said, quickly shaking your head. —" hurry up. hurry up. " "Oh? Aren't you a needy one." He teased, gliding his fingers from your clit to your entrance. "Look [name-] , I've barely touched you, and you're already so wet." He says with the same tone, slightly laced with an amused one.

fubu!hayato , whos has such a pretty cock— slightly above average ( or not ) , 7 inches long , 7.62 inches when hard. 3.47 inches wide, trimmed , circumcised , curved lightly to the left– and he uses that as an advantage to hit all the right spots. His pretty flushed tip is #EOA6b9 pink, shaft is a creamy #E4D5B4 beige. 2 distinct veins with the longest ranging from the base to the tip on the middle right side, he's sensitive the most there. Excretion is macaroon cream, and when he does, he lets out a soft groan.

" Have you ever thought about how you have such a pretty cock? " You said, tracing around his veins as he shivers, his lips tugging into a grin. "How.. bold of you [name] , " He mutters out out with a groan; amused by your words, almost.. flustered? "I've never really thought about it.. like.. that"

fubu!hayato , who isn't really much of a head pusher or throat fucker, letting you do as you please. And when your tongue glides over his sensitive tip to his veins, he simply just pushes his head back. He really isn't a type of person to curse out so openly, even under a lot of pleasure; but when he gets too stimulated, he let out a sound that is in between a groan and whimper, caressing your hair ever-so slightly.

"Mm— you're doing so good, [name]" He says, letting out a breathy exhale as you kitty lick his tip.

He's so sensitive, but it takes more than just a few minutes to make him cum.

fubu!hayato , who just loves tasting you all over— trailing kisses everywhere. Your neck, shoulder, spinal cord, from your abdomen to your inner thighs, whilst leaving a few marks in the process, letting out a loud pop as he takes his lips off your bruised skin — he just can't get enough of you!

"Ah, I can't seem to get enough of you, [name] , " He says, placing your index and pointing finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. "You're just.. too addictive; even for me" He says against your ears, licking your earlobe.

fubu!hayato , who always leaves fights unscathed. He seems to be the type of person who dislikes being scathed, but when it comes to you leaving both love and bite marks all around his skin, fingernails scratching his back as he rams in your pent up hole— he isn't complaining. Instead, he encourages you to make more.

"Remember to breath. If it ever gets too stimulating, just bite down as hard as you can." He whispers in your ear, shoulders close to your mouth. "W-Wouldn't it leave marks? I thought you didn't like being scathed–" You said, breathless. "Hm, I don't. But when it comes to you, I'd rather you add more." He retorted. If someone does indeed see him without his Quipao, those subtle scratches all over his back— bruised neck and shoulders.. then, he'll just make up some sort of excuse.

sincerely, raven ! — requested by anon 👻 ╯

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cougheemedicine · 1 year ago

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Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Jing Yuan x GN!Reader

Word count: 2463

Warnings: Nudity, suggestive but nothing explicit (they bathe together), drinking (drink responsively kids), no beta we just die, the impending wrath of Fu Xuan, ooc? I've never written him before, I think that's it?

Content: Fluff, some angst right at the end but all is resolved, established relationship, Reader is a long-living species, Reader is shorter than Jing Yuan, other characters mentioned, they're whipped your honor

Summary: Due to your position in the Xianzhou Luofu's sky-faring commission, you are rarely home. Often gone for months at a time. Your dear husband never copes well with your time apart. He always makes sure to make up for lost time.

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

The ground under your feet slipped away before you knew it. So this is how it ends, this is how you die. Not the worst death one could have, you supposed.

“General-“ A dying wheeze escapes you, “General, I can’t breathe.”

Met only with a huff that sounded more annoyed than agreeing, the crushing weight on your ribcage lessens. If only slightly. Not enough for your feet to touch the ground, but enough for you to wiggle your arms out from where they were pinned to your sides, wrapping them around your husband’s shoulders.

“I’ve missed you,” Low and hoarse, the deep baritone of Jing Yuan’s voice sends a shiver down your spine. You sigh, relenting to your husband’s affections. It had been months since you’d seen each other last. As the fleet-master of the Luofu’s sky-faring commission, one of your most important duties was to craft interstellar maps for all of the Luofu to use. The only way to do that was to go on the missions yourself, which could last between six to nine months.

For the long-living Xhianzhou natives, nine months passed in the blink of an eye. For your beloved, equally as long-living husband? Nine months was torturous. The man laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You debated on whether you should drag him back to work to avoid the wrath of Lady Fu Xuan on your doorstep in an hour’s time, or repent and simply bask in the presence of your man. Who was real and tangible, embracing you instead of hushed words through a disembodied voice on the other side of your phone, or a pixelated figure sitting bored at a meeting you had to attend via a live hologram.

As his hand slowly rubbed up and down your back, his other hand supporting you while you still dangled in the air. You found the decision easy to make. You craned your head, pressing your lips to his hairline, right above his ear. “I’ve missed you too, my love,”

But, there was one thing amiss. Even as you felt Jing Yuan smile against the fabric of your shirt. You could also feel the eyes on your back. Both of your crew, and of Luofu citizens. None of the gazes malicious, just a bit invasive. You could also hear the whispers. The giggling and gossiping.

‘The general’s gone soft,’

’Aw, how sweet!’

’How adorable…’

“People are watching, general,” You spoke up, raising a hand to run through the hair that escaped his ponytail, tightening your hold on the back of his neck to keep yourself up. Jing Yuan sighed contently, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Let them,”

“General, I’d like to bathe, and get out of this armor,” You tugged lightly at his hair, pulling his head from your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. Any normal person would’ve seen no difference in Jing Yuan’s face, but you were far from normal. After centuries of marriage, you could tell. The curve of his brow, and the pull of his frown. “Stop pouting, general,”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. That tired, easy smile of his. He set you back on the ground, arms wrapped loosely around your waist. “Stop calling me general, then I’ll let you go,”

Despite his words, he still let you go. Stepping to your right and linking his arm with yours. You shared a smile as you walked, leaving the port. “Whatever you say, Jing Yuan.”

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

The sound that leaves your mouth as you sink into the steaming bath water would make even the most stone-faced of war veterans blush. You were never more grateful for the sheer lavishness of the general's residence than when you just return from a mission. The bath of the general's home was better described as a pool. Set in the tile floor, and large enough to fit ten people. The large window on the far wall overlooked the Luofu, saying the whole experience was lavish would be an understatement.

The feel of tar running in your veins instead of blood finally subsiding as the salts and oils in the water sunk into your skin. You rest your arms on the edge of the bath, letting your head lull onto the tile behind you. You don't focus much on anything, eyes scanning the traditional Xianzhou architecture of the bathroom, and letting your limbs, heavy with fatigue, float weightless in the water.

"Enjoying yourself, dear?" Jing Yuan's voice brings you back from your trance, eyes bleary as his feet come into view. You slowly lift your gaze, shamelessly eyeing your husband in a thin robe that was far from befitting a general. He's holding a small, porcelain cup in each hand, intricately decorated, with a bottle of wine under his arm. Oh, how you've missed this. "Very much. Even more so now,"

"I heard from your co-pilot that you had trouble with some rogue asteroids on your way back to the Luofu," He hums as he sets down the cups and bottle a small ways away from your head, settling behind you with a washcloth.

You groan "Ugh, I don't want to talk about it. If it weren't for my navigators we wouldn't of been able to come back unscathed,"

Jing Yuan coaxes you to lean forward, and you let out a rather undignified yelp when the cold soap on the washcloth touches your back. Jing Yuan laughs. you flick water at him.

"I commend your navigator's skills. They seem very talented," Jing Yuan lathers the soap as he speaks, taking the washcloth across your shoulders and down your back. He then gently takes your right hand, running the washcloth down the length of your arm.

"Of course they are, I taught them." Jest laces your tone, even as you submerge yourself to the neck to rid yourself of the suds. As you finish, you lay your head on Jing Yuan's crossed legs. Jing Yuan smiles softly, emotion swirling in the single eye you could see. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. When he pulls back, the washcloth long forgotten, he runs his thumb across your cheekbone, then down the bridge of your nose, and over the curve of your lips. You've long since closed your eyes, a smile pulling at your lips. "Join me?"

Jing Yuan is silent for a beat, and you lift your head once more. "Your wish is my command."

Jing Yuan stands, and you watch him walk to the stool you had set your own robe on. You watch him fiddle with the knot at his hip, then slowly shrug off one side of the robe, then the other. Making sure to stretch his arms above his head, allowing you the pleasure of seeing the entire expanse of his back and arms. You can sense the smile playing on his lips, and you know he can sense your staring. He's teasing you. You avert your eyes the moment his robe drops to the floor.

You feel him slip into the water beside you, letting out a groan very much like the one you had earlier. He smiles at you, his hand creeping up to the side of your head, guiding it down to rest on his shoulder. The two of you sit in silence a while, simply enjoying each other's presence. Months ago, silence meant sitting alone, in the cramped captain's quarters of your starskiff, charting maps and scribbling reports to send back home. Silence meant nights that seemed endless, hunched over your work, and being far, far away from home. Silence that was so loud you had wished so very hard for moments like this to happen more often.

Jing Yuan shifts under your head, offering you one of the cups he had brought in. Wordlessly, you take it, allowing him to pour the wine into your cup, then into his own. "Tell me," You pipe up, swirling the cup under your nose. The scent was light, you watch as he takes a sip "When was the last time we've shared a bottle like this?"

"I can't say I recall. You're very cruel you know, keeping me waiting so long to repeat moments like this," Jing Yuan downs the rest of the contents of his cup, resuming his previous position at your side. "Fleet Master."

"Excuse you, we were right on schedule. Even after the whole event with the asteroids," You grin, playing with the fingers on Jing Yuan's free hand. "General-"

Jing Yuan surges forward, before you even have half a mind to process, slotting his lips against yours. You hum, his lips taste of wine, and the scent of his shampoo roles off him in waves. One arm slung lazily around your back, the other keeping his cup above the water, he parts from your lips with a gasp, dipping his head to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck. You manage to suck in a breath right as he lifts his head again, mashing your lips together clumsily. Desperately. If you didn't know your husband better, you'd think him drunk. With how careless he was being. The sound of his porcelain cup clattering onto the tile beside you ringing sharp in your ear only proving your thoughts.

His grip on you tightens, bringing his other hand up to push you even closer together, you throw your arms around his neck to stable yourself. You can feel every dip and contour of his body against yours, the callouses on his hand sliding up your back to between your shoulder blades as he brings you oh so much closer, his loose hair tickling your face when he hunches forward. Kissing you even harder.

You're the one to pull away. Or perhaps it was him? You don't really have it in you to care.

The both of you are panting like dogs. You let your arms around his neck go slack, and his hands drop from your back to your hips.

It's silent again, only your breathing filling the room. Without really thinking, you raise a hand, cupping your husband's cheek. Immediately he leans into your touch, covering your hand with his own and pressing a flurry of kisses to your palm. His face is flushed, pink from his cheeks to his ears, and his lips bruised. Truly a sight for your sore eyes.

You peck Jing Yuan's cheek, the one you aren't holding, laughing quietly against his skin. He joins you, a deep chuckle that always brought a pleasant warmth to your chest. It was rare for Jing Yuan to laugh to heartily, even rarer for you to even be present to hear it. You don't think you'll ever tire of the sound. He presses his lips to your temple. "I think we better leave before we become prunes,"

"Always so wise, my dear,"

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

“Jing Yuan, I can’t walk with you both leaning on me,” You whine. Jing Yuan groans, leaning more of his weight onto you. His grip on the front of your night shirt tightens, wrinkling the light fabric as Mimi curls around your legs, head butting your thigh. A chuffing sound leaves the lion, as if she were laughing at you. Jing Yuan rests his chin on your shoulder, cheeks still pink from the heat of the bath.

“Don’t be mean, she’s missed you,” He lightens his iron grip on you, running a hand through the fur on Mimi's back. You smell opportunity. You worm your way out of your husband's arms, as warm and comfortable as they are, you still need to walk. Narrowly dodging his hand, fully intent on tugging you right back, you stride on down the corridor. You needn't look back to see Jing Yuan huff and cross his arms, dragging his feet as he follows you.

The moment you close the sliding door to your shared chambers, you're shoved onto the unnecessarily large bed. Jing Yuan crawls over you as you shuffle up to the pillows. He straddles you, a leg on each side of your torso, keeping you down with a hand on your shoulder. As you settle your hands on his hips, you feel the bed dip once more. From around Jing Yuan, you watch as Mimi sprawls out over the entire foot of the bed. A hand on your chin guides your eyes back to your husband's face. He leans down, kissing you gently. Your hands travel, from his hips to his waist, then up his chest and over his shoulders. You settle your hands in his hair, running your nails over his scalp. Sliding a hand down his nape to his shoulders, you gently push him down, letting him put all his weight on you.

"This isn't uncomfortable, is it?" Jing Yuan lowly asks, barely above a whisper. He's already shifting his legs, leaving only his chest resting on yours. Always attentive, your Jing Yuan.

"No love, it's perfectly fine," You sigh, continuing to card your fingers through his hair.

Jing Yuan hums, pecking your forehead then the tip of your nose. He lowers himself till his head is cushioned by your chest, pressing another kiss to your collar bone before settling down right above your heart, curling his arms around your ribs.

Mimi huffs, and you hear her breathing become slow. You've certainly missed this. You can feel Mimi's tail sway against your calf in her sleep, and Jing Yuan tightens his grip around you, you can feel his every breath against the thin fabric of your shirt. You continue scratching at his scalp. "Jing Yuan?"

You hear him mumble something, he throws a leg over yours.

"I'm sorry I'm away so often," It stings. Whenever you leave. The silent nights holed away in your office, or piloting your vessel. The homesickness eating at you the minute you leave port. Sometimes you can't help but think that having someone so dear be so far away takes a toll that isn't worth the pay off.

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder, my love," Jing Yuan replies, muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and slurred by exhaustion.

On second thought. Maybe having someone tying you to your home was a good thing. Who knows if you'd ever return from the stars if someone wasn't waiting at home. Speaking of home...

"Jing Yuan, how did you convince Qingzu and Lady Fu to leave you be for so long?"

The man stiffens in your hold.

"Jing Yuan!"

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

work belongs to @cougheemedicine, all forms of plagiarism, modifying, translating, reposting are not allowed.

#honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan x you #honkai star rail jing yuan #damn I haven't written anything in a LONG time #forgive me if it's ooc #Ooooo Coughee you used the title of the one shot in the actual one shot #you're so creative and poetic #jing yuan fluff #jing yuan x reader fluff #x reader fluff #adding more tags cuz I forgot

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poetlus · 1 year ago

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KATSUKI BAKUGO , HANTA SERO & TAMAKI AMAJIKI HCS

how these three (separate!) react to a reader who is shy at first, but warms up to them when they get to know the characters! requested by my baby @sepptember !! not proofread !!

BAKUGO KATSUKI . . .

he doesn’t care for you at first. to be fair, he doesn’t care for anybody. thinks you’re an extra who’s just getting in his way.

you were quiet & reserved, so he picked on you a little bit. he called you “mouse” because of how quiet and “weak” you were.

his words…not mine

“why don’t you speak, huh?! is there something wrong with you?!”

“hey, man,” kirishima would say, “lay off. it’s no big deal. maybe they just need to warm up to everybody!”

as the year goes on and everybody begins to warm up to each other, he realizes that you’re not just some extra. you genuinely are super nice & kind of bubbly.

not that he would admit it, but he didn’t mind you. you had a pretty powerful quirk and some good potential.

the more you opened up, the less he picked on you. in all honesty, you and kirishima were the people he hated the least in the class.

there was no way in hell he was letting up on the nickname though.

SERO HANTA . . .

i imagine him trying to talk to you on the first few days of school and not getting much of a response.

“you’re not much of a talker, huh?” he would ask you, and then you would get embarrassed.

i think he’d keep his distance from you for a bit, since he’s into more social people.

after you start getting used to everyone though, he would definitely shoot his shot and start talking to you again.

he would also feel horrible about your guys’ first interaction.

“i’m sorry about kinda sorta ignoring you. i’m just awkward around quiet people, y’know? but you’re not quiet anymore! i should’ve known you just needed to come outta your shell.”

after that, you guys ended up actually being pretty close. it was surprising for most students.

when you meet new people and you’re with him, he always gives the other person advice.

“don’t worry, they were like this when i first met them, too. it’ll wear off.”

TAMAKI AMAJIKI . . .

Fatgum introduced you two when he started looking at people for work studies.

He knew you guys would make a good pair because both of your teachers gave him a warning:

“They’re pretty quiet when you first meet them. They have a lot of potential though! I know you’ll get through to them.” Is what your teacher said. Tamaki’s said basically the same thing.

Fatgum has always wanted to bring people up and help them, so he thought, why not help these two at once?

When you first met Tamaki, you could tell he was way more timid than you were.

“Uhm…hi— I’m Tamaki… Amajiki. I— uh…” He stuttered. He then faced the wall and squeezed his eyes closed. “I can’t do this…I want…to go home.”

“Alright then…” Fatgum sighed. “What about you, Y/N? Introduce yourself to the guy!” You did better than Tamaki, albeit, but you were still extremely shy.

As Fatgum worked more with the two of you, you began to feel less intimidated by both him and Tamaki. You started opening up first, but Tamaki slowly followed after.

When Fat sent you on patrols together, Tamaki seemed more energetic and himself. That quickly ended when he noticed the other citizens around him, though.

I hope everyone liked this!!! I’m still trying to get a feel for Tamaki, so I’m sorry if he’s ooc. I love him though. My cutie pie. Remember!! Reblogs > Likes

#works ・゜゜・．#[ KATSUKI BAKUGO ]#[ HANTA SERO ]#[ TAMAKI AMAJIKI ]#katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader #bakugo #bakugo x reader #sero #sero x reader #tamaki #tamaki x reader #[ HEADCANON ]

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rabbits-bad-habit · 2 months ago

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Evan Myers Headcanons- SFW & NSFW

TW: Knife play, pred/prey, and talk of blood

A/N: Hello Evan (not Habit) nation! Hope you enjoy!! This is long as fuck because Ev is one of my favorite characters literally ever. I haven't rewatched in a bit so I hope it's not too ooc. As for the Rory followers, welcome to the source of my user, hope this inspires you to look at EMH :p

Sfw-

Evan Myers possibly takes the cake for the most protective and caring partners you could have. He’s not dating anyone he doesn’t care about, and when he cares about someone or something he will go to whatever lengths necessary to protect that. We’ve all seen him take a swing at literally Slenderman, he’s not afraid to stand up for his loved ones, and especially you. It breaks him to see you the least bit uncomfortable, if you get hurt- god forbid if someone hurts you -it fills him with such an indescribable seethe. Not at you, never at you, more at whatever may have harmed you. He thinks you are amazing, practically worships you. Not only does he see you as absolutely stunning, but you're with him, willing to put up with him and all the shit that comes with that. The only thing he wants is for you to feel safe and loved with him, it becomes his full time job because you just deserve it.

Will drag you to the most random places because he found them and think they would be nice to hang out in. An entirely off-the-path clearing in the woods right next to a stream, an abandoned diner that still has its power on, a hotel that he knows keeps their roof door unlocked. His constant wandering gets him to the most interesting, romantic in the way the apocalypse is romantic sort of way, types of places. Every time he finds a new one he hangs around for a few days just to make sure that it's safe, maybe brings Vinny and Jeff around to see what they think, and then will bring you. Just the two of you, so you can walk and talk and poke at one another with no interruptions, for as long as you like. He knows how dangerous some of the nooks and crannies he finds can be, he makes complete sure that it will be safe for you, in whatever way that means, before he even thinks about bringing you. There are a good few of these spots of his that you’ve never even heard about because he just doesn’t trust the area enough.

He's gonna do things for you, he always is. He likes taking care of people, he likes making sure he is useful. Again, it’s his job to make sure not only are you safe but looked after. That you feel like you’re cared for. If you're on a hike and you get tired, he's hoisting you on his back and carrying you the whole way back. Wanting something specific for dinner? Don't have the energy to make anything? He's sitting you on the counter and forcing you to yap at him while he cooks. He’ll drive you wherever you need to be, even if you have your own mode of transportation. Even if you could do it yourself, why would you do anything when he could? That’s his thought, at least. He has a love for showering together and that falls under this. Something about running soap over your body or working shampoo into your hair makes him feel like he's genuinely useful. It’s so intimate and he hopes it allows you the little escape from the world that it does for him. He'll let you wash his as well if you offer but it's kind of for him to begin with, he'll never expect it. He tries not to baby you or come across as condescending, he certainly isn't doing any of this because he thinks you are incapable or anything. He just likes being useful for the ones he loves, making their lives that much bit easier. Definitely big on the acts of service above anything else, he's a typical guy in that way.

You are either actively together or you aren't speaking. That isn't because he doesn't want to talk, rather, this fucker barely knows how to use his phone for phone reasons. Getting any more than a few simple responses from him over text is impossible. He'll call you, for sure! He can do that! In fact, he loves phone calls when they come from you. Late at night, you're both bored or working on things. Talking about absolutely nothing at all for hours at a time. Long distance parallel play, if you will. You can't catch him on AOL or anything of the sort, though, any form of instant message is kinda overwhelming. So he simply doesn't until the advent of smart phones, and simpler to use keyboards. He is still the type to just call you to relay something he could have easily said over text, though. He mostly uses texts for sending photos back and forth, or simple information, but he will use it! Video calls are the one thing he's truly down for with the changing of times. If you haven't been able to be together for a bit for any reason, he can still see your sweet face while you talk, and he honestly couldn't ask for more from a handheld computer.

Evan is always getting you to wear his clothes. Despite his height, dude is stupid amounts of jacked. Not to mention he gets a lot of stuff oversized for him. Everything still ends up being bigger on you. It gives him cuteness aggression. He gives you his t-shirts and hoodies all the time, and yet he still nearly tackles you every single time. It's actually something Habit ends up leveraging against him. Pretending to be Evan, giving you something that he's added to Evan's closet, just so he can have the memory of you in Habit's clothes and not his. Just a way to torment him in his own brain good god ow.

You don't HAVE to get along with his friends, but the first thing he's gonna do is introduce you. He's always around them, so you're likely just going to meld into the group like you were always there. He loves when you just hang out with them, even if you aren't participating in whatever they are doing. Sitting next to him and watching as they play video games, having to put up with his lighthearted yelling. Being nearby when they make videos, or observing their live streaming habits just off screen, maybe providing bits of commentary when you feel up to it. Evan wants you to fit into his life like you have always been there, wants you to feel so comfortable with every aspect that you forget there's anything bad outside of the time you spend with him. He gets so giddy when you start opening up to his friends, too.

Music is incredibly important to him, the albums he sees as his favorites have influenced him more than he knows how to explain. He honestly couldn’t date one of those people that doesn’t listen to music, it’s too integrated into his life. Animal Collective, Rob Zombie, Nine Inch Nails, and of course Motörhead, just the tip of the artists he listens to in his day to day. Having the same taste as him isn't entirely required, his music taste spans a lot further than you'd think, but he lights up when you show interest in the music he likes. He's always putting together playlists and burning CDs, he will actually jump at the opportunity to make you one. If you aren't into the kind of music he is, but if you're looking to get into it, he puts together such detailed playlists for you to introduce you to it in a way that won't just throw you into the deep end of mid-00s metal. It's one of his main ways of communicating his feelings, pointing out songs and albums that correlate with whatever he's going through.

He loves all sorts of horror and disturbing media. Movies, shows, books. All sorts of sub-genres. His whole friend group does, they're always watching and discussing horror. He likes comedy horror, slashers, and exploitation films the most. Though, he'll engage in just about anything that includes zombies. He has extremely detailed thoughts about zombies and how they should be used in media, and what they should represent. He will love you forever if you listen to all of his opinions and rambling. If you're afraid of horror, he actually finds that kind of adorable. Pulling you into his side when you're watching them together, reminding you that he'll keep you safe, letting you hide your face in his chest when you get too scared. He can't help himself, seeing you scared like that makes his heart melt, and he won't pass up the opportunity to protect you even if it's a fictional threat.

He keeps you away from the dangers he and the guys are in until he literally no longer can. He recognized what was going on immediately, he clocked it the second it happened. As far as you will be aware, though, there was a break in at his house from someone that had seen their Youtube videos and they had it sorted. On the occasions he got hurt, or was just so tired he couldn’t handle it anymore, he would blame it on his job or a bad hike or some unspoken-of family issue. You are the most important thing to him, he isn’t going to drag you into all of it. There’s also a part of him that’s afraid you’ll think he’s insane and leave him, especially in the earlier days. He’d likely end up telling you once people start dying, he may wait long enough that Habit can take the chance for him, though. Under no circumstances is he letting you help them unless you are given something, and once they figure out Habits symbiotic nature, he will refuse to see you. Whatever it takes to make sure you’re not one of those that’s killed or worse as a result of his situation.

At the end of the day, he's a rough around the edges kind of guy. He hunts for fun, he gets himself into fights, he can be easy to anger. His favorite objects are hunting knives, he finds joy in fictional bodies being torn apart. He drops a lot of that around you, though. Not entirely, of course he's still Evan no matter who he's speaking to, but when he finds himself liking someone romantically, he just ends up treating them softer than he does others. Being a bit softer than he usually is. Trying his best not to piss people off when he's with you, trying even harder not to piss you off, because the last thing he wants is to see you truly upset. His teases become a lot less mean-spirited, even if still an attempt to annoy you. He gets as vulnerable as his brain allows when he is with you. He'll actually talk through his feelings instead of always turning to a punching bag or chucking knives at trees, even if he's not very good at verbalizing his feelings, he tries because he knows you will let him and you will understand. When he just can't force himself to speak, he'll curl up with you for hours, pressing his face into your chest and listening to you breathe. That’s enough for him.

Nsfw-

For the most part, he’s a soft-dom. Not that he won’t participate in harder kinks, but he always goes about these scenes with some sort of visible affection. Always with the interests of his partners in mind and less his own. He gives the utmost praise and respect he can to who he is with, even if he's playing a cruel part, he could never be truly cruel. A certified service top, who specializes in brats, masochists, and prey. That’s all. He is extremely knowledgeable in kink and BDSM, as well. Often the “buzzkill” in the room, making sure everything is proper and safe. He takes “safe, sane, and consensual” so very seriously. Which is a good thing, all things considered, but there are times it can feel like he’s the erotic hall monitor about it.

Just because he's dominant doesn't mean he is exclusively a top. He is far from afraid to let you fuck him, he's down, but know it will be so humiliating for you. He's a fan of leashing his sub-tops, yanking them closer to pull them further inside of him. Groaning into your ear, biting into your shoulders and neck. Saying shit like "Just keep fuckin' into me. Good bitch." and "You can do better than that. C'mon- harder." He is also so unbelievably fond of convincing bottoms to top for him. Telling you over and over that it's okay, that you're just being dramatic and you can do it. He's still in control, you don't have to think any more than you normally do. Just try it once. Keeping his hands on your hips, guiding you into his, teasing at every opportunity. His language gets a lot softer, saying everything with an almost-proud smile. "That's your dick inside me, hon." and "Ya' gonna fuck me good, huh?" He is a menace when he gets the chance to bottom, frankly.

Getting the obvious out of the way, he’s a fan of knives. In fact, maybe more than just a fan, it’s his absolute favorite kink to participate in despite how rarely he gets to truly indulge. The entire process is a turn on for him. Procuring proper blades, cleaning and maintaining them, dragging their sharpened edges across skin, drawing blood. The pause in breath when someone is waiting to see if he'll cut or not, the way they hiss when he does. The way little pricks of blood pop through the shallow wounds. The only less-safe kink habit of his is licking cuts, he just can’t help himself. It’s so erotic, you’ve already trusted him enough to let him pull a knife on you, and now he’s lapping up your blood and it’s all because he loves you. He likes the aftercare just as much, though. Holding his partner to his chest after it's over, repeating praises. "You did so fuckin' good for me" and "you don't know how hot that was" in that low, loving voice of his. He always makes sure to bring cleaning and dressing supplies wherever you’re doing this so you don’t have to move a single inch once he’s done with you.

Of course, he’s got his sadistic side, but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely opposed to pain himself. If you were to drag your nails across his back or bite into the side of his neck, he couldn’t hold himself back. It’s the only time you can ever actually get him whiny, you may even get a whimper out of him if he’s close enough to climax. He’s only ever really for it if it’s incidental like that, but when it does happen, it drives him crazy. He has a thing for seeing the marks on himself, the small bruises and scratches, something about it makes him feel nice. He likes having the little reminder throughout the day! You’re etched into his skin until it heals, he thinks it’s so sweet! It’s also a good contrast to the frequent unpleasant pain he experiences, it’s different when it comes out of such intense need and love.

King of the chase, he absolutely thrives in a predator role. He can't help who he becomes if you agree to a predator/prey scene, it’s a time he can safely explore the part of him that craves that kind of hunt. He becomes a feral little monster once he has you labelled as "prey" in his mind. Tends to prefer doing something of the sort inside, one of your houses is ideal, but he wont inherently say no to a chase through the woods. He knows the chances of either of you getting hurt is a lot lower if you're inside, somewhere you both know the layout of, however, the realism of being out in the woods makes it all the more exciting. More places to hide, much easier to conceal your location. Especially in the early fall when it’s briskly cold at night, seeing your breath in the air when he pounces is addicting.

He always, always, has music on when you fuck. Hell, he probably had it on before anything was even initiated. Absolutely not the usual bedroom soundtrack. Of course it's not, this is Evan. No sultry pop or jazz, he always puts on the most vulgar rock or metal if he has any say in it. A lot of it is the same stuff he listens to elsewhere, it's just a whole lot easier to notice how unbelievably horny these lyrics are when you're actively being touched. White Zombie, Nine Inch Nails, he'll pull for Korn at times. If you're in a chase in the house, or he's got a blade to your skin; in some intense scene. The music choices can totally change the energy, and he takes pride in getting the exact situation he wants laid out, down to the soundtrack.

Cannot help but love overstimming partners. He can't get enough of seeing them come undone, unable to think about anything outside of the room. Why do it once when he can do that thrice! Or more for that matter!! You actually have to be the one to tell him when it's getting too much, because he could pleasure you for as long as you will let him. His favorite sight is you fucked out, calling his name, clawing at him, not even sure if you’re asking him to stop or keep going anymore. If there is ever a time you don’t want to cum so many times over that you can’t even speak, you gotta tell him ahead of time, or he will get carried away.

He never shuts up, ever, and that does include during sex. Praise, a few insults here and there, so much shushing and false sympathy. He isn't exactly great at what most would consider "dirty talk" either, but that doesn't stop him from simply letting whatever come out of his mouth. "Fuck- you're grippin' me, dude." and "Do you know how fuckin' hot you are?" He's fond of mixing praise with insults. Saying the sweetest thing, but punctuating it by calling you "bitch" or "whore" or talking to you with a tone that's so utterly caring while he's saying stuff like "You're nothing but a dumb slut, do you know that?" He loves seeing the emotional whiplash as his partner tries to figure out whether they should feel degraded or loved. The intention is to fuck with your head in a way that says- both!

Roleplay! Oh my god please engage in cheesy roleplay with him! He doesn't exactly take it too seriously, but it's Evan we're talking about here. The guy who canonically leads DND campaigns and plays RPGs, of course he finds himself enjoying a little bit of roleplay in the bedroom. Never the serious stuff, no costumes or anything, but the idea of having some prompt is just appealing to him. It’s fun to be different people for a little while! You're no longer established partners, you just met at a bar and are having some wild one night stand, or you're both having some secret affair, or he's an incubus and you've summoned him. Whatever you haven't thought of yet is always going to be his first pick, it's fun to just be in A Situation to him. He's also unbelievably good at making this feel natural, on all fronts. He wasn’t a theater kid, but you’d think he was with how easy he makes it.

As much as he participates in serious kink, elaborate scenes and learned skill, he's a sucker for simple sweet sex. Pulling you as close as possible, keeping you between his arms, mumbling about how much he loves you. Going on about how beautiful he finds you, how utterly lovely you are. Slow movements and grabbing at each other, not a moment lacking contact. Your bodies going warm, and the only sound in the room becomes your shared gasps and desperate moans. No crazy rules or roles, just pleasure and loving touch. It doesn't happen that often, but it definitely happens more once the events of the channel start. Just a need to be close to you, be reminded that you're still there with him, make sure you know how much he treasures you, even when he's so occupied with the serious circumstances he is in.

#haiii old emh moots i know ur gonna see this #i literally could go on about him #i could do another full one of these #mine #evan myers #evan myers smut #evan myers x reader #everymanhybrid #emh #everymanhybrid smut #emh smut #emh fanfic #everymanhybrid fanfic #headcanons #smut

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catopoliscat · 1 year ago

Text

next time / kento nanami/fem!reader.

who would have thought that kento nanami was a virgin? not you. not after this long. perhaps he was saving himself for someone. perhaps he was waiting for you.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab reader. penetrative sex. alcohol. dry humping. virgin!nanami. mutual pining. friends to lovers. creampie (wrap it kids). unprotected sex. touch-starved!nanami. canon!verse. you've known nanami since school. tinges of angst. nanami wanted you bad lmao. it's love babey. reader has experience. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever. wc: 7.7k. a/n: i kind of fear nanami's a little ooc here lmao, but i've spent too long on this so fuck it we ball he deserves this

also how mad would you be if i said this was set a week before shibuya arc be honest

mdni.

You’re a bottle and half of zinfandel deep when Nanami tells you.

Although you’re both a little warm, tipsy perhaps, you didn’t think either of you were quite drunk enough for this conversation just yet. It was a regular occurrence for the two of you to share a drink on a Friday, or a bottle in more pressing times.

There were more bottles than glasses, lately.

It was just two old friends, catching up. Talking. Complaining--usually about Satoru. Often you’d reminisce on easier times. Warm summers in the Jujutsu High courtyard, the cold tin of a soda in your hands, a bottle of water in his. Quiet talks of dreams and eventualities. Ignoring the gaping absence of a third at between you.

Tonight though, you’re not sure when the topic had changed. Somewhere between the last dregs of the first bottle and the beginning of the second, the conversation had grown more sombre than usual. Talk of love and relationships always seemed to make the air heavier around the two of you, for different reasons. A stark air of loneliness that not even the most tart of white wine could overpower.

You had offhandedly mentioned turning down one of the windows you had met on your last mission. He had been younger than you, still full of life where the holes in yourself had long since emptied it out. You had shaken your head, flattered, but tired. There were better options for a man like him, still full of hope and vitality, a whole life ahead of him… when you knew any day yours could be cut deftly short.

You had told yourself it had little to do with the fact that the man’s bright smile had reminded you of another, so many years ago.

In the quiet of Nanami’s living room, swirling the last drops of your wine in your glass, you had mentioned that you had no real desire for relationships anymore. Other than sex, of course, but only sexual. A temporary release, one of the few you had left. Nameless faces and hurried touches. Sometimes clinical, sometimes primal. Always quick, and never the same person twice.

You know?

To which Nanami had replied, “No.”

Misunderstanding the gravity of what he was saying, you had raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing at your lips. “Not one for one-night stands?”

It occurs to you distantly that you don’t know a lot about Nanami’s romantic life. Close as you two were, or so you liked to believe, he had never really mentioned it. And you had never asked.

Nanami had shook his head in response to your question, and you had nodded. It aligned with his character, you thought. As cold and stoic as he liked to act, you couldn’t imagine a world where he would use and discard someone. He felt too much, cared too much. He would love too much too, if given the chance. If he gave himself the chance.

In your musings, you had almost missed what he had murmured next.

“I’ve never had sex at all.”

Kento Nanami. A virgin.

The confession has your lips parting, your eyes blinking. Once, then twice, akin to an owl. You glance down at your wine glass for a moment, as if it had been the slightly smeared glass that had been speaking to you instead, and not the esteemed stoic sorcerer you had known for the better part of ten years.

You look over at Nanami on the couch, but he’s staring at the carpet, his expression contemplative, almost pensive. His brows are drawn taut, a small knit on his forehead. His lips are drawn into a thin line, a slight crease in his chin. There was a specific emotion dancing in his eyes. You almost dared to use the word vulnerable.

It seems… ridiculous. Nanami? Attractive as he was? Kind, considerate, hard-working, to a degree. A woman’s dream. In another life, perhaps your dream too.

Had it not been for Nanami’s serious demeanour, and the fact that ‘joke’ and ‘Nanami’ rarely went together in the same sentence, you might have thought he was pulling your leg. A joke between friends.

But he wasn’t. He very clearly wasn’t.

“That’s… fine,” you finally say after a small moment, fearing you had let the silence linger too long. “There’s no rush for these things.”

Nanami’s hum is short and clipped. Gruff, almost. He still refuses to meet your eye for now, and you make no move to change that. You get the distinct feeling that this newfound vulnerability doesn’t stem from him never having sex, but rather, the reason why he’s denied himself - because you know for a fact it has little to do with opportunity.

You had lost track of how many women you had watched Nanami turn down, clipped and short, yet always polite.

The silence is heavy between you. In the other room, you can hear the hum of his refrigerator, the buzz of the bulbs in the lights. Nanami’s apartment has always been quiet, but this silence feels suffocating. Paired with the wine, your head feels thick, your tongue thicker.

A few moments pass, and as the revelation of his virginity settles into your stomach like seltzer water, you realise… it makes sense. Nanami wasn’t the type to use someone for sex, even if eager. He’d only have sex with someone he was in love with. Someone he trusted at the very least.

And Nanami, as he had told you and a few others before, refused to entertain the thought of love whilst he was a sorcerer. No one with two working brain cells needed to ask why. He wasn’t alone in that choice, either.

You toy with the stem of your wineglass whilst you toy with a reoccurring thought in your mind, one that you entertained often, but had yet to voice aloud.

“You shouldn’t keep depriving yourself, Kento,” you say quietly. The use of his first name, rarely used in your adulthood, garners you a glance from him. It’s a small sign that you’re taking this seriously.

“I’m not deprived of anything.”

You scoff at that, small and quiet. “You deprive yourself of a lot, apart from pain,” you drawl, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table. Like always, the wine and Nanami’s masochistic tendencies have your tongue loosening more than it should. “I understand not wanting to have sex with anyone you’re not in a committed relationship with. It’s kind of… admirable, and definitely you.” You fold your arms across your chest, fixing him with a stare that he still refuses to meet head-on. “But why deny yourself the chance of love?”

In the back of your mind somewhere is a voice chanting ‘hypocrite’, but you ignore it. Nanami, however, does not.

He finally turns his head to face you, the lines underneath his eyes seemingly heavier in the dim light of his apartment. An eyebrow arches. “And meaningless sex is different?”

You scoff again, louder this time. “It’s not meaningless just because I don’t love my partner.”

“Or even know their name?”

You raise a sharp eyebrow, your own lips now pressing into a thin line. A part of you wants to retort, to snap, but you remember the vulnerability in his face from a few moments ago, and you just about hold your tongue.

With an exhale, you grab the half-empty wine bottle off of the coffee table instead and gesture for Nanami to hold out his glass. He does, and the glug of the wine fills the space between you.

“You ever thought about it?” You ask, filling up your own glass. In your peripheral, you see him sit quietly for a moment before he nods his head.

“I’m only human.”

You hum. “You should experience it,” you add. You swirl the wine in your glass once before bringing it up to your lips. “Even once. Even if it means nothing.”

With one glance, you can tell immediately that the idea doesn’t sit right with him. It was easy to forget sometimes how rigid and traditional he could be. Formalities that few seemed to care about these days. Always on the things you least expected.

“I couldn’t,” Nanami replies, shaking his head.

Oddly, you feel the desire to insist. Days of a sorcerer were short, and getting shorter every year. Younger than yourself and Nanami had already died long before they would ever have the opportunity to touch another, kiss another; to feel the warmth of a body against your own. They would never know what that distinct pleasure was like, even if they desperately wanted to. Time was infinite to the young, until it wasn’t.

It occurs to you quickly that you’re thinking of Haibara, and everything you and Nanami had experienced that he never would.

Something must show in your expression because Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. You swallow, before setting your glass back down on the coffee table with a dull clink. You look at him, your face surprisingly collected and casual for what you’re about to ask.

“What about me?”

Nanami’s questioning look only deepens for a moment, before something passes by his eyes. His lips part, his version of a falter. You know he knows what you’re implying, but still, he asks, “…what about you?”

“What if we had sex?” You say without hesitation. “You know me. You trust me.”

Nanami falters further. He straightens in his seat, his glass resting on his thigh, the thick muscle straining against his slacks. His whole body is thick with a tension you usually only see before a fight with a particularly highly graded curse. A vein protrudes from his neck.

His eyes flick between your face and your own glass, clearly wondering if it is time to call this night done, but you rise from your seat before he can, taking a small step toward the couch he’s sitting on.

You sit down next to him, a little closer than you usually might. He doesn’t move away. Your thigh brushes against his, and this close, you can hear his breath hitch in response.

“I’m not going to push this any further, Kento,” you say quietly, “but I’m letting you know it’s an option.”

Although you and Kento were hardly affectionate with one another like most friends, you decided to take a chance tonight. You had already taken several, what was one more?

Reaching out, you take his glass from his hand and set it next to yours on the coffee table. Hesitating only a moment, you place your hand on top of his, your fingers curling around until your fingertips touch his palm.

His hand is stiff and warm underneath your own. The bones and knuckles press against your skin.

Something in the back of your mind is wondering why you’re pushing this at all. Would it matter if Nanami died without experiencing the pleasures of the body, really? Would the world stop turning for either of you? You know if Nanami really wanted to, if he felt the want, the desire - then he could leave this apartment right now and find someone willing, someone other than you. He could have done so years ago, during those few years he had masqueraded as a normal human being with a nine-to-five.

You were risking a friendship over… what? The implied hopes and dreams of a dead fifteen-year-old? Haibara was dead. It didn’t matter to him whether Nanami experienced the things he never could.

Nanami’s gaze flickers between your eyes for a moment, and this close, you can see the faint traces of the wine staining his lips. Your gaze must linger for a touch too long because his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. The pink skin glistens with the faint glimmer of his saliva.

When you look up, you see his eyes trained on your own lips, before they quickly flick back up to meet your eyes.

“We’re friends,” he murmurs, his voice low, slightly thick.

“And we always will be,” you reply.

He glances down at your hands. Somewhere between your own thoughts and Nanami’s reiteration of your friendship, your hands had interlocked, fingers intertwined like vines. He was gripping your hand a little too tightly to be comfortable, but you didn’t flinch.

You’re not sure whether it had been your subconscious doing, or his.

“I… can’t,” Nanami mutters finally, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not like this. Not… now.”

Something clenches in your heart at his rejection, although you had expected it. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s denying you, or himself.

You smile softly nonetheless and nod. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” you say quietly, going to pull your hand from his grip and give him some space.

Only he doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens slightly.

Your eyes flick between his hand and his eyes, still trained on your face. You raise an eyebrow, your lips parting to speak, but he beats you to it.

“But I’d like to kiss you.”

Something resembling a very quiet ‘uh’ pushes past your lips in a long exhale.

You’re not sure why the idea of kissing him felt more… intimate than the fact that you had offered your body to him only seconds prior. You’re not sure why there’s a prickle of heat at the back of your neck or your lips burn with a sudden need.

“Nanam-“

As if remembering himself, he shakes his head slightly, blinking away whatever stupor had just possessed him. He looks away, his grip on your hand loosening, but not quite pulling away.

“I… don’t know why I said that,” he mumbles. “You should go-“

Your free hand is already gripping his chin, turning his face toward yours a little too sharply. A subtle grunt leaves his throat as he looks at you, his gaze foggier than usual. From the wine, you, or the whole situation? Who knows.

Fingers against his neck, feeling the quickened thrum of his pulse, your thumb brushes against his chin, pulling the skin until his lips naturally part. You feel Nanami’s shaky exhale against your lips as you lean forward, warmth breath mingling with yours, the scent of wine heavy on the air.

You close the distance slowly, giving him time to stop this, to pull or push away. To draw an end to this nonsense before it went any further.

Instead of pulling back or pushing you away, he closes the gap so quickly your noses almost bump together.

The first press of his lips against you feels hurried and unsure. It’s off-center slightly, barely hitting the corner of your mouth, but Nanami is quick to correct it. He slots his lips against yours more firmly the second time, his lips parting to capture yours fully. You feel a rush of air against your cheek as he exhales through his nose.

The kiss is unhurried, curious almost, yet there’s a subtle urgency in it that surprises you. Your free hand moves from his chin to his jaw, fingertips softly caressing the sharp curve of it. The sound and feel of his sigh against your lips makes you shiver, and you become enamoured with it.

Enamoured with him.

You part your lips further, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip, finally tasting the remnants of the wine that you had spotted earlier. An odd sound builds at the back of his throat before his mouth parts too, his tongue brushing against yours.

Something changes quickly then. His hand, larger than you ever really noticed, cups the back of your neck, his calloused thumb pressing against your jaw, drawing you closer. Your other hands, still intertwined, seem to tighten around one another like a snake's coils. The wet smacks of your lips grow louder in the quiet of his apartment, just about overriding the sound of increasingly ragged breaths, borderline panting.

Your head feels thick. Dizzy. The kiss is indulgent, almost sloppy now. Nanami’s tongue is in your mouth, exploring every crevice, tasting you with an eagerness you hadn’t thought he was capable of. Every time you brush your tongue against his, your taste buds wetly sliding against his own, a small sound rumbles in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and grumble.

After a moment that feels like an eternity too short, you pull back slightly, just enough to see his eyes as you open yours. Nanami denies you this, however, because when you open your eyes, his are still closed, almost scrunched. A faint frown tugs at his brow.

He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. The heat of his skin against yours feels searing, your noses softly brushing against one another’s. He sighs deeply, as if pulled from the back of his chest. It almost sounds like defeat.

“Kento-“

“I want you,” he breathes out, and your voice almost hitches as you feel rather than hear his voice. It’s a deep, husky sound, more rumble than syllable. But there’s a crack in his tone belying a raw vulnerability that you weren’t familiar with. Not from him.

His eyes finally open, looking up at you from underneath his brow. His hazel eyes are almost black, you realise, the familiar colour you’ve always admired swallowed up by a sea of coal. You wonder if yours are the same.

He’s trembling too. You can feel his fingertips shake where they press against the nape of your neck.

“I thought you didn’t want… this,” you murmur. ‘Sex’ suddenly feels too…

“I changed my mind,” he replies, a touch too quickly for you to believe that he was thinking clearly.

But God, did you want him too. You want him so fucking bad it almost makes you ache. Your feelings toward Nanami had always been friendly, respectful. He had been your closest friend, your ally, your confidant. You had been through so much together. You liked him, every part.

And somewhere along the way, between the four years apart as he pursued a different life and the first time you had hugged him when he finally returned, Gojo grinning over his shoulder… you think, that like had changed to love.

It quickly occurs to you that you weren’t pushing Nanami to experience sex for fear of him missing out. That was you. You were scared of missing out on him.

It’s that revelation that makes you pull back slightly, and Nanami’s eyes widen a little, some of the hazy fog clearing. His hand slides from the back of your neck, falling limply against the couch next to your thigh.

“I… I shouldn’t have put you in this position,” you mutter, glancing away, staring at the two wine glasses on the coffee table before looking back at him. “It’s your choice. Your first time should be on your terms, not because I think you’re missing out or depriving yourself.”

You go to remove your hand from his, but once again, his grip tightens, but there’s a tenderness to it this time. A gentle squeeze, almost begging you not to go. Not yet.

He looks serious now, staring at you squarely, as if about to deliver a mission report, and its the first familiar expression you’ve seen on his face thus far. He swallows thickly, the only thing belying his hesitation.

“I said I couldn’t have a one-night stand.”

You frown. “And th-“

“I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.”

Some of the breath flees your lungs as you look at him. His lips are still pink and slightly swollen from kissing, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the wine and your touch. You become distinctly aware of the scent of his cologne, faded but warm from his skin. It’s soft, smoky almost. You have the urge to bury his nose in the crook of his neck and breathe.

You know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to ask. You know what he wants because you want it too. You realise you’ve wanted it for a long damn time.

Words fail you. They feel… inadequate to describe what you’re feeling, what you desire, what you’ve always desired buried down underneath the guilt and trauma.

But you still can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. Not here. Not yet.

And neither can he.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, all you know is that your lips are pressed against his and he moans into your mouth as if something had finally let go. It’s like a cork had finally been released, a lifetime of pent-up feelings pouring out in one gush.

His hand is back at the nape of your neck, holding you tightly this time, unwilling to let go. His lips part more readily with every press, his tongue seeking yours with a pinpoint determination. You skip his jaw this time altogether, aiming straight for his hair that you’ve been dying to touch since… you don’t know when.

The hand that had been holding yours hostage finally releases, only so his fingers can brush against your waist. His fingers brush against your ribs through your clothes, tugging you closer until you’re rising up onto your knees on the couch just to oblige. He’s tilting back, his broad shoulders bumping against the couch cushions behind him - and it’s only distantly you register it’s because you’re pushing him back against it.

Something shouts at you in the back of your mind to take your time, to savour this, to savour him. You may want each other badly, but this is Nanami’s first time. It should be done carefully, respectfully, the way he would treat you if this position had been reversed.

But then Nanami’s hand has moved from your waist to your thigh, blindly grabbing it as he pulls it over his lap. Before you know it, you’re straddling his hips with a huff against his lips, and something like a sharp, pained groan leaves his lips.

You pull away from his lips with a ragged breath, concern knitting your brow until you realise what the cause of his groan was.

Straddling him, you can feel the pulse of his desire underneath you, the hard ridge of the bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core through your own clothes. One hand is grabbing your hip tightly, almost too tight, as his forehead rests against your shoulder. The other hand is on your thigh, his thumb digging into the plush flesh there.

His breathing is ragged, extremely so. Hot puffs fall against your skin. You weave your fingers through his hair softly, and you watch with reverence as a strong shudder rolls down his spine in response.

“We can stop, if you’d like,” you murmur against his ear, going to rise up on your knees to give him a little breathing room.

“Don’t,” he grunts, the grip on your hip and thigh quickly stopping you. He exhales again, a shaky sound as he keeps his forehead stamped against your shoulder. His voice emerges again, barely audible, slightly pained. “...I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Your grip in his hair tightens in response. In a flood, memories of him rush through your mind. A thousand different glances, subtle touches, small clues. Even in school, the way he would linger, a touch closer every time Suguru or Satoru would appear. The hand at the bottom of your back in a restaurant. The way he would lean in to hear you in a crowded place.

The way his arms had tightened around you when he had returned after four years away. I missed you too, almost inaudible against your ear.

Nanami didn’t want a one-night stand. What was the point of sex at all, if it wasn’t with you?

The thought has you rolling your hips down against his before you can stop yourself, feeling the firm length of his cock grind against your core. A moan leaves your lips, and something guttural leaves his.

The hand on your thigh moves up to your other hip, pulling you down tighter against him as if he could slide inside you right now. “Don’t tease,” he hisses between clenched teeth. He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against your neck. He leaves a searing, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point. “Not now, not after this long.”

“You think you’re the only one who waited?” You pant as you grind again, firmer this time. His hips buck against yours in response, a muffled groan leaving his lips, imprinted against your neck. You can feel his cock throb against you, twitching against the fabric that separates you.

“…you wanted this too?” He breathes out after a moment.

You nod, though you doubt he can see it from the way his face is buried against the crook of your neck. “Since you came back. Since you hugged me back and said you missed me.”

His hands move from your hips to wrap tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t bear for a single slither of space to be left between you two. His hips jut up against you once again, a ragged breath leaving his lips. It seems the idea of you wanting him for so long the same as he had the same effect on him as it had on you. If not more.

He holds you a little tighter, running the sharp point of his nose along your throat as he tilts his head up. Finally, finally, he breaks free of your neck to look up at you, lips parted, eyes almost desperate.

With a thick swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, he goes to say something but falters, and murmurs your name instead. His dark eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. His cock twitches underneath you.

“Please,” is all he can croak out, and the moan that almost leaves your lips would have been primal.

You nod your head, giving his shoulders a small squeeze, pushing him back slightly. He seems reluctant to let go, but finally relents after a little insistence, reclining back against the couch. His arms unwind and his hands drop to your hips. He looks up at you, clearly waiting for your lead.

You sit back slightly on his parted thighs, the muscles firm and supportive underneath you. Letting your hands fall from his shoulders, you drag your fingertips slowly down over the expanse of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his wrinkled shirt. As your fingers skate over his abdomen, you feel the muscles flex and roll. Nanami looks at you readily.

“We should do this properly,” you murmur, your eyes trained on the lower buttons of his shirt, near the waistband of his slacks. “In a bed.”

Nanami, to your surprise, shakes his head quickly, giving your hips a small squeeze. “We’ve waited long enough.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t disagree. Despite the need, the ache, the pulse of your own core, you can’t help but think of if the positions were reversed. The image of candles, roses and soft music fills your mind, Nanami’s guiding hands and murmured praises. It would be slow and romantic. Perfect.

“Nanami,” you breathe out, almost chastising. With the way his cock is pressing against you, you have no doubt he’s not thinking clearly right now; the thought of having what he had wanted for so long within his grasp clouding rational thought.

He shakes his head again, a lock of his mussed hair tickling his brow. “Next time.” He shifts, sliding down the couch a little more and spreading his thighs - and in turn, spreading yours. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you a little closer until you’re seated right on top of him. “Next time,” he repeats in a groan. “We’ll go slow. I’ll explore every inch of you, taste you. Now, I just want…” He exhales an unsteady breath, sounding like your name. “I just want you.”

Your fingers linger near his shirt's lower button, and one of Nanami’s hands unclasps itself from your hip to gently grasp your wrist. He guides your fingertips to the belt buckle, the metal cool against your hot fingers.

You meet his eyes once more, and his gaze is a paradox of firmness and vulnerability. He’s nervous, you think, but ready. Almost desperately so.

Without another word, your other hand reaches down to join your other one, and your fingers are surprisingly deft as you slide the leather through the metal. Nanami watches your hands with rapt attention until the belt is loose. Your fingers slide over the metal button of his slacks, and you don’t check in this time. You pop it open before sliding his zipper down, the crackle of the metal teeth as loud as a gunshot between you.

A small sigh of what you think is relief leaves his lips as the fabric parts, giving you a small glimpse of the dark boxers underneath, straining over his cock. A small wet patch blooms at the top, wear his tip would be, and a shudder runs through you.

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his underwear, lingering for a moment. You look up at him at the same time he looks up at you. Without a sound, Nanami lifts his hips and you rise up to your knees.

With a few firm tugs, you manage to inch his slacks and boxers down enough to free him. A small huff leaves his lips as the cooler air of the apartment hits his overheated flesh, and you watch in rapt attention as his cock twitches, the flushed tip glistening already.

It’s longer than you expected. Thicker too. Uncut. A prominent vein runs up the underside of it, and you have the sudden urge to follow it with your finger, or your tongue.

Nanami shifts underneath you, and you realise you’ve been staring a touch too long.

You pull your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes, and his breathing seemed to have quickened. Anticipation is making him stiff, almost antsy, a rare sight on a man you’ve rarely ever seen anything of other than composed.

It’s endearing.

Reaching down, you satisfy your own urge and run your fingertip up his shaft, following the vein, feeling it pulse steadily to the rhythm of his heart. Nanami’s hips twitch, his eyelids fluttering. Dark eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

When you curl your fingers around him, gripping him firmly at the base, his eyes shoot open, snapping to the sight of him in your palm. You give him one pull upwards, and a bead of pre-cum wells in the divot of his slit.

“Fuck,” comes out in a very quiet, gruff choke. Your eyebrows rise in surprise, a small smile on your lips. Nanami didn’t always curse, and especially not like that.

“Language, Nanami,” you tease, and his eyes flick up to you, something indignant and impatient in his eyes. You usually weren’t one to tease, and he wasn’t one to be teased.

You continue to stroke him slowly for a moment, rubbing your thumb against the sensitive tip. You fingers quickly become tacky, the glide of your hand more fluid, until the lewd wet noise starts to rise to the same level as Nanami’s breathing. He grunts with every upward stroke, his hips twitching underneath you. Had it not been for your weight on top of him, you get the distinct feeling he’d be bucking up into your palm a little more eagerly. His head falls back against the couch, lips parted, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he relaxes more into the sensation.

It occurs to you that you’ve seldom seen Nanami this relaxed.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?” you ask, “with me on top?”

He nods but doesn’t open his eyes. His hands run up from your hips to your waist, a soft caress. “It’ll be… easier for me- hah-“ Another choked groan leaves his lips as you give the head of his cock a small squeeze, and Nanami’s hand flies to your wrist in a blink, stopping you from making another move.

You feel his cock throbbing in your grasp, and Nanami’s straight-up panting now, his eyes slightly wild as he tilts his head up to look at you. It’s an arousing reality to know that you had just pushed Nanami dangerously close to the edge without even meaning to.

“I won’t last,” he murmurs, looking up at you, his eyes shining.

You realise quickly that he’s actually asking a question. Are you sure?

“This time,” you reply with a small smile. With his hand still around your wrist, you give his cock another squeeze, and he grits his teeth, that vein in his neck protruding once more. You can see the taut muscles in his abdomen flexing from where his shirt has bunched up.

As much as the idea of making Nanami cum, right here, right now, appeals to you, you relent for now. You’d love nothing more than to watch him spill into your palm, to see the euphoria and bliss play out on his face… but that was for another time. The next time, perhaps.

You release his cock, letting it fall back against his lower stomach with a dull smack, making him hiss through his teeth. Leaning forward, you brush your lips against his throat, nipping at the skin softly.

You guide his hands to the waistband of your own bottoms, and he wastes little time in following your unspoken order. The press of your lips against his throat clearly distracts him, but he manages to pull down your clothes enough to leave you in your underwear. You kick them off the sofa haphazardly, not leaving his neck for a single moment.

He catches you off guard when his hand immediately dives for your sex, cupping your heat through the dampened fabric. You stutter against his neck, gripping onto his shoulders for support in response.

Your eyelids close, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel just how wet you are. “Nanami,” you gasp.

“Kento,” he whispers quickly. Once, then twice, he rubs his palm along your clothed pussy, something guttural building in the back of his throat as you buck down into his touch. “You’re… so wet.”

The wet spot on the fabric clings tightly to your folds, doing very little to dampen the sensation of his touch. His fingers are exploratory, a tentativeness that belies his lack of experience with this, but his touch, the fact it’s him, here and now, makes up for it all.

You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed a touch such as this. Not like this.

Despite toying with Nanami’s cock until he almost burst, hypocritical impatience gets the better of you, and you remove your hand from his shoulders to tug down your own underwear, kicking it off to join the growing pile on the floor. Bare from the waist down, Nanami’s eyes roam over the exposed skin almost hungrily.

Both calloused hands run up your thighs, pressing into the soft flesh slightly. You see his hand move for your pussy once more, but your fingers are curling back around his cock again before he can distract you.

Next time, keep parroting in your mind. Next time you can both endure hours of foreplay; touching, kissing, tasting, the whole nine yards. You promise to make him cry out before he even sinks inside you, to run your tongue along every inch of his skin until you’re sick of the taste of him. You’d know he’d do the same.

But you two had waited long enough.

Gripping the base of his cock again, you brush it up against your heat, your own slick smearing across him. Nanami’s eyes almost roll back into his head, but he closes his lids before you witness it. You’re faring little better, the mere sensation of having him against you like this, the tip of his cock rubbing up against your clit sending you dizzy. You angle your hips, and just feeling the thick head press against the tight, slick ring of muscle is enough for a moan to already tumble past your lips.

Something flickers in Nanami’s gaze as he opens his eyes again, honing in on the sight of you braced above him like this. He grips your hips, his touch light, merely supporting you for now. You look back once into his eyes, and go to check in just once more, but he leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s little more than teeth and raw need.

His lips pressed against yours, you sink down, the wider head of his cock slipping inside you. Your lips part in a soundless gasp against his mouth, swallowing the ragged groan that leaves his throat. The stretch is slightly more than you’re prepared for. Distantly, you think, skipping foreplay wasn’t the wisest idea, but desperation, need, pushes you forward regardless.

So you sink down further, inch by inch, and as he slides deeper and deeper, his grip on your hips grows tighter and tighter, until the force of his fingers dulls the ache of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you finally bottom out, hips sitting on top of his. You realise you’re breathless, and that cowgirl might not have been the best position for taking someone of his size. Certainly not in one go, like you just had.

Nanami is fairing no better. His mouth is agape, his biceps trembling where he clings to you. He seems dazed, winded, panting into your mouth as his arms wind against you. He pulls you forward, and you both moan as his cock seems to slide just that little bit deeper.

You’re dizzy, strained, stretched out far more than you can ever remember being before. Your eyes are scrunched closed, your forehead knocking against his. Everything feels distant and muffled. It takes you a moment to realise Nanami’s muttering something repeatedly in fragmented gasps.

When you open your eyes, he’s looking at you almost panicked, his eyebrows knitted upward. His teeth are bared, gritted - and it’s now you notice that you’re clenching around him so tight that you’re not sure if you’re causing him more discomfort than pleasure.

You swallow thickly, trying to catch your breath. You’re flushed, prickly heat blooming across your chest and neck. You shift a little, and something pained rumbles from the back of Nanami’s chest in response.

“Do you want me to stop or-“

“Don’t,” he grunts, his fingers shaking against your back. “Don’t move.”

The throb of his cock inside you is insistent, and it takes everything in you not to clench tighter around him in response. You know he’s close, dangerously close, and as much as you want to rise up on your knees and slam yourself down on his cock until he’s begging you to stop, you clench your jaw and relax.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly; small pecks and affectionate touches. He shivers, and his cock still pulses, but slowly, muscle by muscle, he relaxes too, ragged pants dissolving into hot, muted breaths. His arms around you loosen, holding now, not gripping.

“Tell me when you want me to move,” you whisper against his ear, pressing a small kiss to the lobe.

He nods, brushing his cheek against yours with a soft sigh. His hand moves from your back upward, until he cups the back of your head, drawing your lips back to his. It’s a soft kiss, loving; slow and sensual slides of wet skin mingling with gentle exhales. Before you know it, and before he says, you’re rolling your hips greedily, just grinding against him for now.

A guttural sound leaves his lips. His forehead feels hot and sticky pressed against yours like this, a strand of his hair tickling your cheek.

You feel his thighs shift, widening as far as the slacks still around his thighs can allow, feet planted more firmly into the carpet. The first roll of his hips is disjointed, off rhythm with your own, but the slight drag of his cock against your walls has you moaning brokenly. The second roll, a little more confident, has you pressing your hips down to meet it, and your back arches like a cat.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice thick and throaty. You moan his name, wait for the third shallow thrust, and meet it. “You feel so fucking good.”

He looks up at you like you hung the stars, his eyes widening at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips like a fractured halo. He loses his rhythm, but you soon pick it back up for him, starting to use your thighs to slide more eagerly down his cock. It’s still shallow, Nanami’s arms around your waist preventing you from really going for it, but you’re unwilling to part from the closeness for now.

You bounce a few inches at a time, the dull clap of your hips and the lewd squelch of your hot cunt wrapped tight around him filling the air of the apartment. With each bounce, a grunt pushes out from his chest, hot breath fanning across your face.

Nanami, though inexperienced, starts to let his body guide him. His hips buck up to meet you more confidently, and the growing force of his movements has you keening, fingernails biting into his shoulders.

You look square into his hooded eyes, breath mingling, and see the flush across his skin, his lips glistening with saliva. You moan again, higher pitched this time, and Nanami’s next thrust has you jolting up a little, nose bumping against his. You clench around him again, and his brow knits together.

“S-Shit,” he pants, his hips starting to jolt more readily, pushing a little too forcefully into you, quickly losing his rhythm. “I’m not… I’m not going to last…” His movements quicken, grow more erratic, and you’re not even sure he realises. “… you’re so fucking… tight.”

The last part is little more than a throaty whisper, his voice cracking. You stop meeting his thrusts and instead, widen your stance, tighten your core, and let him take what he needs. The movement, though small, isn’t lost on him, and he looks up at you, emotion swimming heavily in his dark gaze.

He thrusts up grow more erratic, sloppier, something like a grunt leaving his mouth with every dull thwap of his hips against your ass. His arms tighten around you, fingertips pressing into your skin. A groan, a hiss, and a swallow. The couch creaks and strains.

“N-Next time - hah - next time… I want t-to feel you cum around me,” he pants, his arms starting to shake. “I’ll give you everything, anything, fuck, I-I’ll keep going until… until… God-“

He’s barely pulling out now, a mere inch is all he’s moving, the head of his cock bullying against the soft spot right next to your cervix. Choked, high-pitch moans are the only sounds you can make, and you distantly note you’ve never sounded like before. Not ever.

You’re getting there, you realise. Not quite close, and definitely not as close as him, but the way his cock fits inside you, the slap of his hips against you, the way he’s looking at you… it’s pushing you there fast.

But it’s not quite enough.

“I’m close,” he gasps. “I… where…”

“Inside,” you reply without hesitation. Something passes by his eyes, a small flicker of concern, perhaps, swimming in the sea of lust and arousal. You try to find your bearings enough to tell him it’s okay, you wouldn’t have taken him inside if you weren’t protected-

-but then his cock is twitching inside you, and Nanami is shaking, shaking underneath you, his thighs jolting, nearly bucking you off his lap altogether.

With one last slam of his hips against you, buried as deep as he could possibly ago, a long, primal groan leaves him. It’s deep, visceral, easily mistaken for something pained - and it might be the most divine fucking sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

He buries his face against your throat as his hips buck involuntarily a few times, and you shiver as you feel that familiar warmth bloom inside you. He’s giving you everything, or what feels like it. Your pussy flutters around him, and his fingertips press into you so tight you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises.

His heart is hammering against your chest, the thump pounding even in your own chest. Ragged pants and a heavy quiet settles over the living room. His cock continues to twitch inside you, growing weaker with every thud of his heart.

Nanami doesn’t pull his head from your throat for a long while, his nose pressing into your skin as he pants against you.

After a moment, he finally swallows. “… I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I… I should have made you-“

“Shut up,” you murmur against his warm hair, breathing in the faint scent of sweat and his shampoo. He seems to get the picture, of what you were trying to say. He always did. “Next time,” you add anyway, just to be sure.

He lifts his head from your skin, looking up at you blearily. You smile fondly as you see his face again, the harsh lines on his brow and his eyes smoother now, no longer creased as they always seemed to be. He looks… so much younger, you think, like this. Relaxed. Sated.

You brush some of his sweaty hair out of his face, and his eyelids flutter at the brief contact. He seems exhausted, you think.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs as he looks up at you. “I don’t want this to…” His palm moves against your back, sliding down your spine. “I want you. Properly. I always have.” He swallows. “Always.”

Your eyes soften. He looks at you expectantly, almost vulnerably.

“You have me,” you murmur in reply, finally. “Properly.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and it’s warmer than you’ve ever seen before. Genuine. Light. It’s as if a decade of weight lifts from his broad shoulders, if only briefly.

He pulls you close once more, his lips pressing against yours softly, lovingly, and the world seems to fade away.

For now, of course.

masterlist.

#nanami x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #kento nanami x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami #kento nanami

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koji-haru · 6 months ago

Text

Misperceptions

[Sorry, I'm late!! But here's your holiday present @evilmenshoe80!! I hope you like it!! I tried my best, but I'm sorry if I made your characters ooc 🙇‍♀️]

There were two great armies of Heaven. The more well known one, The Army of God, was led by none other than the archangel Michael, Prince of the Heavenly Hosts, who defended Heaven from monsters that lurked within the endless void. The other army, The Exorcists, was led by Adam the First Man, God’s greatest creation, and was an army shrouded by mystery and secrecy. Not many knew what exactly the Exorcists did, save for a few higher ranked angels, just that their work was just as important as the Army of God’s.

And while the two armies share a similar role of protecting Heaven from the dangers of the world outside, their public impression could not be more contrasting. The Army of God, just like their leader, were composed of angels trained to the highest of caliber, highly serious and committed to their duties, exuding an aura of pristine excellence as they sport their golden armour. The Exorcists, on the other hand, were composed of only female angels, saved for their golden commander, clad in black and grey uniforms with a menacing devilish helmet to obscure their faces. And unlike the soldiers of Michael, the Exorcists were often found to be quite the lively group with a harsh undertone. However, despite the two armies' differences, both commanded respect and adoration from the citizens of Heaven for their reputation as strong and reliable defenders of Heaven.

The leaders of these two armies, Adam and Michael, while they both shared a reputation of being strong and capable commanders, appeared to hold no love for one another. With both having a propensity for obstinacy, unwilling to share control to anyone else despite evidence that would suggest it better to let go, the two were bound to clash heads often. Just like now…

“–and that’s why I think the technique you’re teaching them needs more work,” Michael ended his long critique regarding the Exorcists weapon handling skills and techniques as he watched the women train in their barracks, standing beside their commander, Adam.

A loud slurping noise from a drink that was essentially empty was all the response Michael received from Adam, who remained sitting slack on the bench as he watched his girls train hard for the upcoming extermination.

“Adam.”

More slurping, an uncouth burp, and then more persistent slurping from the straw before Adam finally gave Michael a glance, one brow raised. “Dude.”

Michael simply responded with a similar quirk of his brow, a silent dare for Adam to say what he had in his mind.

“They’re my girls,” Adam started, “and they're badasses already.”

“They could be even better,” Michael insisted, arms crossed as he looked down on Adam, a hint of worry in his calm features. “You can never be too careful when dealing with Hell,” he added in a hushed tone.

A snigger left Adam at the archangel’s words of concern as he placed his now empty cup to sit on the bench beside him. An air of nonchalance clinging heavier than ever on him as he waved Michael off, “What can they even do? We’re invulnerable. Calm your ass and tend to your own soldiers instead.”

In a way, Adam understood where Michael was coming from. Hell was a place not to be underestimated, filled with the most vile, filthy, unsalvageable souls in existence; the chaos and madness only exacerbated by their useless excuse for a king. One would be wise to completely avoid that dumpster fire of a place, or even better, cleanse the filth off of existence with an army of deadly skilled angels. And Adam’s army of exorcists were more than capable of doing the job, possessing both the skill and passion required for such a gruesome task. So while he somewhat appreciated Michael’s persistence on impeccability and covering all bases, even the irrelevant ones, the most it did for him was grate his nerves a little since as literal angels, they were already immune to whatever sinners could even hope to throw at them. The concern was sweet, but highly unnecessary.

“You’ll be the one needing to tend your ass later,” mumbled Michael though Adam didn’t miss a single word that was said.

“Wha–! You!!” hissed Adam as he swiftly threw his empty cup at the archangel, who easily dodged the projectile.

Beneath his mask, Adam’s face was a bright gold, the ventilation and cooling system of the mask not helping in any way to calm the heat that was quickly spreading across his cheeks. And while Michael couldn’t possibly see any of this, Adam’s reaction was all he needed to know he had successfully flustered his pretty angel.

“No?” Michael asked with a slight tilt of his head, pretty blue eyes shining so prettily beneath long lashes, his long golden hair flowing like silk in Heaven’s cool breeze. If it were anyone else, they would instantly fall for the veil of innocence in front of him, believing that the archangel was oblivious to the undertone of his words prior. But not Adam, no. He had known and spent too much time with the Prince of Heaven to know otherwise. Of course, that didn’t mean he had become immune to Michael’s titillating gaze; somehow always finding himself readily falling for it.

With a huff that lacked any real heat and a golden flush still painted all over his face, Adam muttered, his voice as quiet as the gentle breeze, “...maybe later…”

“But after work!!” Adam immediately added as he abruptly stood up to push and shove Michael out of the Exorcists’ training grounds. “Now, get out! You’re a distraction!”

“Oh? Am I now?” pondered Michael as he let Adam shove him towards the exit.

“Yes! Now, out!”

While all of their bickering was nothing more than playful banter and shameless flirting when they believed no one seemed to be watching, unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth. Four sets of eyes lurking just behind some pink bushes watched on as Adam and Michael appeared to be in a heated dispute, with the father of humanity seemingly so aggrieved enough to have thrown his drink at their brother before proceeding to kick him out of the training grounds. Three out of four sets of eyes gave one another a concerned look, while the fourth one, with eyes like plums, simply looked bored and exhausted with a hint of irritation.

Four archangels pulled away from the edge of the bush, hiding themselves further into dense pink foliage as they mulled over the scene they all had just witnessed.

“That…didn’t look so good,” Raphael remarked, brows creased in concern.

“No, it didn’t. It seemed that our brother and Adam were fighting. Again,” Jophiel nodded in agreement, her thoughts already skimming through possible causes of their seemingly long standing feud, but coming up with no viable explanation. Yes, Adam and Michael had somewhat contrasting personalities and demeanour, but she didn’t think it was enough for the two to hold such dislike for one another. And yet, whenever she witnessed the two sharing a space in public, they either barely acknowledged each other, or just like she had seen now, engaged in argument with no resolution since neither seemed willing to relent.

“I don’t understand,” she pondered aloud. “Michael isn’t normally one to persist in such childish behaviour. And Adam…well, he never truly let anyone’s words affect him much.”

“Not everyone has to get along. Sometimes people just don’t like each other,” Uriel added, a little irked at being dragged into a bush to spy on both his brother and the first man, when he was on his way to get some work done.

“But Michael’s our dear brother and Adam’s our precious friend!” Gabriel asserted, both hands on his thighs as he sat up even straighter as his amber eyes shone with resolve. “We can’t just leave them like this!”

In the background, Raphael placed gentle hands on Gabriel’s shoulders to ease some of the excess energy off of the spirited angel; a quiet request for silence lest they be discovered sneaking around.

“Okaaay?” Uriel rolled his eyes at Gabriel’s display of what he thought as childish fervour. “But, is all this sneaking even necessary? Why don’t you just ask them both directly? That’ll get the problem solved in no time.”

“Such things require delicacy and sensitivity to solve, Uriel,” Raphael kindly reasoned. “We can’t just pull them aside and interrogate them.”

“We must find the root cause first,” Jophiel continued with Raphael nodding in agreement.

“Oh! I know exactly what to do!” Gabriel raised a hand, energy quickly returning back to him.

“Please don’t tell me it’s got to do with mor–,” groaned Uriel, truly tired with this mess.

“The next we see them fighting, we listen in on what they might be arguing about, then we can go on from there!” Gabriel announced proudly, a beaming smile on his face.

“Ugh…”

All Uriel could do was groan and rub his temples as his two other siblings, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, agreed to Gabriel’s terrible idea. He didn’t mind so much, really, if only they would keep him out of their inane plan. But deep down, he knew there was no way they would ‘leave him out’. Just the thought of enacting Gabriel’s plan was already giving him a headache, he couldn’t imagine the mental anguish he would have to go through on the day of the plan itself. But siblings stayed together, he supposed.

—-

The day of unveiling the truth had finally arrived. And of course, Uriel just had to be dragged along with his siblings' schemes just when he was on his way to his own office. Currently, all of the archangels, including Michael and Adam, were in their work building. All four archangels, Jophiel, Raphael, Gabriel and Uriel, had all finished their lunches a little earlier than normal and were just heading back to their respective offices, when they all caught a glimpse of Adam following Michael into his office. It wasn’t anything particularly unusual, they were both commanders of an angelic army, sometimes there were things they must discuss. However, Jophiel, Raphael and Gabriel were all quickly stopped in their tracks when they heard multiple things hitting the floor from Michael’s office. Even Uriel momentarily took a pause before deciding that he was much too busy to intervene, though he was quickly pulled into it by siblings.

So now, all four of them were currently by the door of Michael’s office, either crouched or standing, but all trying to eavesdrop on the possible argument inside.

An irritated scowl formed on Uriel’s face as he pulled himself away from the door. “This is useless. All we hear are muffled voices.”

“Then should we just knock and ask?” asked Gabriel, amber eyes wavering with worry.

“Hold on a second, hmm,” Raphael lightly touched the office door, a faint golden glow emanating from his fingertips. “It seems that Michael had placed a small barrier around his office.”

“So we can’t get in?” Jophiel queried.

Raphael shook his head, “Not really, unless we use force. It’s only a mild barrier, nothing particularly strong.”

“Well, that’s it for us then.” Uriel clapped his hands as he stood up, ready to head back to his own office, “We can’t really do much until they’re done with whatever they’re fighting about this time.”

An air of resignation surrounded the siblings as they realised their current lack of options. And really, as much as they would’ve preferred to wait outside and confront both Michael and Adam about their conflicts as soon as they’re done fighting, they had no idea when the two would actually come out and they all still had some work to get done for the day. So, in silence, all four siblings agreed to simply catch and confront the two commanders once they were free of their duties.

All four were just about to separate and head on to their respective offices when they hear another much louder noise from Michael’s office, and then another and another until something seemed to have hit the door and then fall down with a dull thud. Concern and panic swiftly washed over all four archangel’s features as they froze on their tracks with the exception of Gabriel, who immediately made his way back towards Michael’s office with a fiery haste.

“That’s it! I’m not standing by any longer!”

And with gathered strength, Gabriel kicked the door to Michael’s office, causing it to fly off its hinges and revealing the two commanders…entangled with one another…on Michael’s desk…with Adam beneath him, one bare leg wrapped around his brother.

“Gabriel! What–” called out Jophiel as she followed suit with both Raphael and Uriel behind her.

In front of them four was a scene they had never expected to see: both Michael and Adam in a state of indecency, limbs wrapped around each other, their clothes haphazardly half taken off with Michael’s coat at the foot of where the door used to be. Papers, books, cups and everything that used to be on Michael’s desk scattered in a mess all over the floor. Both Michael and Adam flushed golden, their hair in wild disarray, the sweat making it stick to their faces as signs of their passion began to show in small, golden blooms along their necks and chest accompanied with a few lovingly toothed marks here and there.

“AAAAHHH!!” screamed Adam as he tried to both push Michael off of him while also trying to pull him closer to use him as a shield to hide the scandalous state he was in.

“Ummm…” before Gabriel could even say anything more Michael had already teleported both him and Adam out of his office in a cloud of blue smoke.

“So all this time they weren’t fighting?” Jophiel wondered aloud. “It was just their form of flirting?”

“That…that explains a lot,” Raphael said, still a little shocked at what he had just witnessed.

Uriel wanted to gouge out his eyes. That was something he never wanted nor needed to see.

—-

“Please, I’m ready to move on into my third life now…” Adam groaned into his hands as he laid on the bed of Michael’s bedroom. A heavy cloud of unconsolable despair hung over him as he felt the weight of shame and embarrassment on his body. Never had he wished to sink into the ground and disappear forever more than ever in both his mortal life and afterlife.

“It– it’s not so bad,” Michael tried to console Adam, one hand gently patting his head. “People were bound to find out. At least it was my siblings and not someone like Sera.”

“Michael, please, shut the fuck up.” Adam could feel the tears of shame prick his eyes. “I can’t believe they caught us like that!!” screamed Adam into a pillow he had grabbed.

“Yes, that– that is troublesome,” Michael nervously agreed. For all his confident capability, for the first time in his long immortal life, Michael wasn’t exactly sure how to face his siblings after this…incident. At least without it being painfully embarrassing for both him and Adam.

Adam whined into the pillow, still refusing to believe what had happened just minutes before, “I want to return to dust now, Father pleeeease!”

[I actually really really enjoyed writing your OCs, might have even fallen in love with Uriel here ahahaha.]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #guitarhero #hazbin hotel michael #michael x adam #🛡🎸#hazbin hotel gabriel #hazbin hotel jophiel #hazbin hotel uriel #hazbin hotel raphael #hazbin hotel archangels

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