#Card-Based Time-Attendance

[glamorizethechaos]

Labor of Love | Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: Getting pregnant with Dr. Abbots baby was never in your cards. From a sloppy one night stand to a passionate relationship, Jack becomes the protective boyfriend you always wanted. Going into labor a month early, Jack ends up delivering your baby himself.

A/N: I have literally never written smut a day in my life so this is strange for me but IM TRYING, OKAY? Catholic guilt goes crazy.

TW: 18+, accidental pregnancy, implied age gap, childbirth, preterm labor, probable medical inaccuracies (what know about childbirth is based on my own experience giving birth myself. shit sucks btw.), fluff, poorly written smut

Word Count: 3.3k

Not Beta Read

You had always hoped your child would be conceived after a night of romance. Something out of a movie. Perhaps a candle lit dinner followed by passionate love making? Growing up in the age of Nicholas Sparks novels certainly skewed your romantic view of the world. You certainly never expected it to be with your stone cold attending Jack Abbot, in a night of well...alcohol fueled fucking. Jack putting you in positions you didnt know were humanly possible, and having you making noises you didnt even know you could make.

"Thats it baby, give me more." he growled into the crook of your neck as he fucked you through your second orgasm. Slowly stroking in and out of your squelching cunt as your body arched and contorted beneath him. Your moans echoing through his loft apartment. His rough hands anchoring you as he stretched you out, his cock fitting almost perfectly inside of you. He loved watching you lose control, your eyes rolling back with each deep thrust, your toes curling as he hit that spongey spot that made you come undone.

And he wasn't finished. You see, Jack was a gentleman, chivalrous as some would say. He took his time. He didnt dare let himself reach his climax until he was pleased with his work. Until he felt your pussy squeezing and throbbing against him, gasping for breath and beginning for his cum. He fucked slow and deliberate, stretching you out- filling up every single inch. Only when until you demanded he fuck you faster…harder, did he really lose himself in you. Your legs resting in his broad shoulders, him holding onto your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh.

The sweat dripped down his forehead as he fought to stay in control. You were so tight, twitching around him with each thrust, it felt euphoric. Just when you thought you had nothing left, his hand traveled down to your swollen clit, drawing circles with his thumb, rendering you breathless.

"Fuck, Jack..." you whimpered. Your breathing was erratic- mouth dry, longing for his tongue to explore yours once again. He knew you were close again, it didnt take him long to discover what made you tick, and what made you lose all control.

"That's it, good girl. Let go." and thats all it took for you to erupt. He fucked you ferociously through your orgasm, the bed crashing against the wall with each thrust until he collapsed on top of you. You both struggled to catch your breath.

No wonder the condom broke.

When you stood the bathroom of the Pitt looking at the two blaring pink lines it felt like you had the wind knocked out of you. You saw your entire residency crumble beneath you. You contemplating not telling him, writing a script for mifepristone and misoprostol yourself. But after work that night, you found yourself at his apartment. Your hand hovered over the door before you heard a voice behind you.

"Y/n?" Jack stood with his backpacked slung over his shoulder, wondering what the hell you were doing at his place. After sleeping together weeks prior not much changed between you. You never spoke of it and carried on like work colleagues. Maybe he stood up a little straighter when you walked by, maybe your cheeks felt flushed whenever he brushed up against you during a trauma.

By the look on your face, Jack knew something was wrong. He fumbled with his keys as you stepped aside enough for him to unlock the door. He pushed it opened and ushered you in first.

"I'm sorry, I know that was a rough shift b-"

"Whats going on? You alright?" he cut you off, kicking off his work sneakers and setting his stuff down by the door. He watched as you fumbled in your bag, searching for the positive pregnancy test that seemed to be buried under your empty snack wrappers and old receipts. You hesitated before pulling it out of your bag.

His hand hovered before reluctantly taking it from you, looking at you beneath his furrowed brow. He had been to war, he had been surrounded by complete destruction, he had seen the worst of humanity, and yet he had never been more scared than in this moment. He inspected it, flipping it over, holding it up to the light, but the two lined were as clear as day. Dark. Blaring. Indisputable.

“I’m sorry. I-“ you couldn’t find the words. Your mouth opened and closed liked a fish out of water as your thoughts faltered.

“Why are you apologizing?” Jack asked, confused, dry and deadpan.

“I don’t know."

"It’s not your fault. I mean I was there too.” He said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

Your eyes burned as the tears began to well up, blinking ferociously to stop them from falling. However soon one fell, and then another, and another. Before you knew it you were sobbing in Jacks arms. The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity as he traced circles along your back. It felt strangely comfortable, his arms holding you against him, the smell of sweat and antiseptic on his scrubs filling your nose.

"What do we do?”

“We figure it out. If you want to keep the baby or if you don't, we figure this out. You aren't in this alone. ”

And you did. As your bump grew, so did your closeness and love for each another. You almost missed the first time he told you he loved you. You were cooking him dinner, something you loved to do despite your multitude of food aversions. Hips swaying side to side to a spotify playlist as you glided around his kitchen. He was trying to watch the Steelers game but kept finding his eyes on you.

“I love you.” He called out quietly. You felt your heart jolt.

“Huh? Did you say something?” You asked in disbelief, turning down your music to make sure you heard him right. Jack hesitated, trying to gauge your face and reaction before repeating himself.

“I said, I love you.” And he took you right there on the living room floor, fucking you senselessly as the pasta boiled over on the stove. You ordered takeout that night instead.

However, aside from in the bedroom, Jack wasn’t especially affectionate, especially not in public; and while he tried to make more of an effort, he didn’t say “I love you” often. But it certainly wasn’t lost on him.

You found him reading books about obstetrics in his free time, he instinctively put his hand on your belly when a patient was being especially combative, he signed the both of you up for a childbirth class where he took notes, or he would text you “you craving anything?” on his way home from the hospital on your nights off. All the subtle things he did made you realize he was completely and utterly head over heels in love with you.

The first time Jack felt the baby flutter, you don't think you had ever seen him so happy.

On mornings after a particularly rough shift, and Jack couldn't sleep from the adrenaline, the two of you would watch the morning news until one of you eventually folded, usually you. His hand rested on your swollen bump that you could no longer pass as bloating to your nosey coworkers. Of course Dana was the first the sniff it out. Jack rubbed circles on your belly, it helped calm him, ground him, and have at least something to help keep his head above water. Suddenly he felt a little kick, jumping up so quickly he almost tripped, running his fingers through his hair with the dumbest smile on his face.

"Did you feel that? Was that my baby girl?" he started to pace, unsure of how to process this other worldly experience.

"Girl?" you chuckled, raising your brow, "How are you so sure its a girl?" the two of you decided you wanted to be surprised. You were certain it was a boy, but he shot down all the baby boy name suggestions because, "it didnt matter anyway." He liked the name Grace.

"Yes, my girls are both right here. Hi Gracie girl." he knelt down next to the bed, rubbing and kissing your belly as you rolled your eyes.

But the comfortable bliss of the second trimester was short lived as you entered your third. Growing more and more uncomfortable as the weeks pass and your bump grows. You don’t want to be touched, your back hurts, waking up nearly every night from heartburn, and those damn Braxton Hicks contractions making your abdomen tighten like a vice grip.

After every shift, Jack meets you on the couch to rub your swollen feet, not before checking your blood pressure of course.

“Jack, I don’t have pre eclampsia.” You’d protest and the cuff tightened around your arm.

“You know just as well as I that it can sneak up on you quick… 118/72…”

“See? I told you I was fine. I’m swollen because I was on my feet for the past 12 hours.” You elevated your legs on his lap, kicking his thigh with your foot before he started to rub them.

“Are you sure you’re okay working? You can always go out on maternity leave early.” Jack was particularly protective of you right now, no matter how many times you protested you didn’t need light cases loads at work. He’d make you take frequent breaks, and show up at the nurses station with a water bottle and crackers. You spent more time in the bathroom from all the water he made you drink rather than tending to patients.

“So I can sit at home and go stir crazy? No way. I’m only 36 weeks. I have a month left of this hell.” You threw your head back as he massaged a particularly tender spot. You took a long bath and changed into one of Jacks Army t shirts and a pair of his sweatpants, his clothes were the only things that fit you comfortably at this point. The shirt was ratty and nearly falling apart at the seams, but it was your favorite to wear. His smell embedded into the fabric no matter how many times it’s been washed. The sleeves stretched from his biceps that you loved to bite and nibble on when you two laid together.

You crawl into bed next to Jack who has already pulled down the blackout curtains and turned on your white noise machine you can’t sleep without. He looped his arm around you, nuzzling his head into your damp hair that now smelled of lavender and lemon verbena. It wasn’t long before you felt his breathing slow and his arm grow heavy over your bump.

You tossed and turned, feeling incredibly restless. Unable to settle, you flipped on the bedside lamp and started reading one of Jacks medical journals, hoping your eyes would eventually become too heavy to fight it. That feeling never came. It felt as if though you just ran a trauma, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You decided to go for a walk, your back aching, stopping ever so often to breathe through those damn Braxton Hicks. God you were so over this.

You spent the rest of the day cleaning whatever you thought was necessary. The baseboards, the inside of the freezer, and the top of the fans that you made him dust only last week. Had Jack known you were on top of a ladder, he’d have had a conniption. Soon you heard Jacks alarm go off and him shuffle out into the kitchen, his eyes tired and heavy.

“You get any sleep baby?” He asked, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“Not really. Just too restless.” You shrugged as he poured himself a cup of coffee. You watched at he changed into his black scrubs and threw some extra things into his backpack. Today was your night off.

There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, sometime inside screaming for Jack not to leave. You shook it off. Maybe it was just the indigestion. He grabbed an apple off the counter to eat on the way in. He held it in his mouth as he zipped his sweatshirt before taking a bite.

“You need anything before I head out?” He asked, grabbing the keys to his pickup. You watched the clock behind him, timing the minutes between the pains in your lower abdomen.

It’s just Braxton Hicks. It’s too early. You’re probably tired. Dehydrated. No, no, it’s just too early.

“Baby?” Jack called out again.

“Oh no I’m fine. Have a good night, my love.” You walked over, lacing your hands around his waist and planting a tender kiss on his lips, tasting the apple he’d just eaten. Then another twinge in your stomach. How long had it been?

8 minutes.

20 minutes.

5 minutes.

15 minutes.

3 minutes.

Something was happening. These felt different than the Braxton Hicks contractions that plagued you for weeks. Water. You had the primal urge to be in water. You ran another bath, submerging your belly, holding onto the sides of the tub as the surges continued to come, and then a low groan. You were vocalizing now. You had to be in active labor. You sat there for 2 hours, adding more hot water to the tub whenever you caught a chill.

Before you knew it, it was 6 am. You wanted to call Jack. You needed him. But he’d be home soon, God willing.

You no longer could concentrate, low, guttural moans escaping your mouth during peaks of your contractions. You didn’t even have a hospital bag packed. You started throwing stuff into a bag, none of it made sense. A tooth brush, a t shirt, a scarf. What? Why would you need a scarf? The pain was too intense. Why was this all going so fast? This was your first baby. You’d heard horror stories your entire pregnancy of women laboring for 24 or even 48 hours.

When you heard the jingle of his keys and the knob turning, you were hit with the strongest contraction yet.

“Ba-,” As Jack opened the door his eyes widened. He immediately threw his stuff down and rushed to you, who was leaning over the kitchen counter, rocking your hips and moaning. “Baby how long have you been like this? How far apart are your contractions?” The birthing classes immediately kicked in, bracing himself behind you and giving you hip squeezes until the contraction passed. It felt like heaven.

“They started before you left for work… and uh… 3 minutes now.” His face fell.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He asked, your face in his now shaking hands. Before you could answer you were hit by another contraction that now sent you on your hands and knees. He grabbed a cool rag and placed it on the back of your neck as you roared. The counter pressure he applied to your back no longer offered any relief. He coached you through the contraction that felt like it would never end, and all you wanted was for him to shut the fuck up. Suddenly the lights were too bright. His voice was too loud and your shirt was too tight.

“Off.” Is all you could say and you tried to take your shirt off yourself. Jack helped pull it over your head, the fabric peeling away from your damp sweaty skin.

“Baby, I wanna check you.” He asked, putting on gloves he grabbed from his bag. After giving him a nod, he rested one hand on your back before checking your cervix. He cursed under his breath. “You’re 9cm and 100% effaced. We have to go. Now.”

“But I’m only 36 weeks” you began to cry as you were hit with another contraction. Getting to his truck felt like ages. Stopping what seemed like every 30 seconds to double over through another surge. The second you sat down in the passenger seat you felt a pop and a gush between your legs. Your water broke.

“Thank god I laid those towels down first, huh?” Jack tried to joke through shaky breath as he barreled out of the driveway. You didn’t find it funny.

The hospital was a 15 minute drive, 30 with traffic. Unfortunately for you both, it was morning rush hour. You couldn’t sit, undoing the seatbelt you braced yourself against the headrest. Jack trying to rub your back with his free hand.

“Want your birthing playlist?”

“Fuck you!” Is all you could muster.

And then the urge. The incredible and uncontrollable urge to bear down.

“Jack… I have to push.” And his face went white. He quickly pulled to the side of the road and jumped out, grabbing his go-bag from the back seat before sprinting to open the passenger side door. He could see the baby start to crown and immediately pulled out some gloves, a fresh towel and his stethoscope from his bag. You always teased him about this go-bag. He couldn’t wait to tease you about this later.

“Okay my love, I see baby’s head. She’s almost here. She’s got a head of hair!” He was STILL so set on this baby being a girl. His voice cracked from fear and emotion that he was about to deliver his own baby.

You felt the ring of fire, your legs shook as you tried to push past the burning pain.

“I can’t do this! I can’t fucking do this!” You protested, still on your knees, now leaning over the center console.

“Yes you can baby, listen to your body. You’re doing so good. The hardest part is almost over. We’re gonna have a birthday today.” And you screamed again, pushing as hard as you could, the veins popping out of the side of your neck, your face growing redder and redder. You roared your baby out. Then relief. Sweet, sweet relief.

Jack caught your baby in his hands, his eyes clouded with tears that immediately began to fall. He helped your turn back over and brought your sweet baby to your chest.

“It’s a girl!” Jack sniffled. He was right. He was always fucking right.

“Why isn’t she crying, Jack?”

“Just give her a minute. Rub her back.” he pulled your shirt down again to do skin to skin. He’d by lying if he wasn’t panicking too. “Come on baby girl, let’s hear those strong Abbot lungs.” And then you both heard it. The most beautiful shrieking cry from your little girl. You threw your head back in relief and he rested his forehead against your temple, crying. You’d never seen him cry before.

“I just had a baby in the car, Jack.” You looked at him, in a daze. High on adrenaline and oxytocin.

“And you were a rockstar.” He kissed you before checking you and the baby before continuing to the hospital. You delivered your own placenta as you stared in awe at your little girl. She had his nose, his eyes, his chin… the more the looked the more you realized she was a spitting image of her father. Of course YOU do all the hard work for her to look nothing like you.

Jack pulled into the ER ambulance bay to find Dana already outside smoking a cigarette. He jumped out and screamed for a wheelchair. Snuffing the cigarette out with her foot she rushed over,

“What’s going on, Jack?” She had already paged Robby at the sight of him, looking dazed.

“It’s y/n, she just had the baby in the car. Page the NICU, baby seems fine but she’s only 36 weeks. Placenta delivered and intact.” He gave her the rundown before opened the passenger door to you latching your baby to the breast for the first time. You could not take your eyes off of her. Robby came out once he heard the page to find everyone huddled around the truck, helping me into the wheelchair.

“What’s this?” He asked, a goofy smile on his face.

“This is your niece, Grace Michaela Abbot. Michaela after her Uncle Mikey.” You smile up at him, absolutely beaming.

[shoeistars]

no photos ! pt 2

incl. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

ʚଓ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

ʚଓ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

ʚଓ pt 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

reo : car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

barou : wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

rin : under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

sae : checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

shidou : pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

[wrenisrad]

I Prefer Hiding in Plain Sight

pairing: Azriel x Reader (mainly towards the end)

word count: 1k

c/w: angst, feelings of inadequacy, they're idiots your honor

“Life may shift,” You recall Rhysand telling you, after you had barely turned twenty, surrounded by your friends– your family, who had serenaded you with a horrendously off-pitch rendition of Happy Birthday. “But we will forever be that same, count on it.”

And as much as you wished you could have relied on the comforting words of your friend, they had failed you, slowly, but surely they turned into something different. Something unrecognizable. Gone were the days of simplicity, laughing at Rita’s, or having a Sunday dinner with everyone in attendance. 

Now, handed to you on a brandished, dirty plate, were days of being brushed off and constant cancellations made of weak excuses, a; “Feyre wanted to have a night in,” “Elain wished to go for a walk,” or the simplest, “Nesta needs me.”

 It seemed as if the presence of the ever-shining Archeron sisters dimmed your own light, leaving you abandoned and rusted. All of the love and time you had given your family, left to rot. They had left you to rot. 

It was to be expected, you had had a gut feeling whenever Mor had brought the two elder Archeron sisters to the House of Wind, when, despite your injuries as severe– if not more so as theirs, everyone had rushed to them. No matter how hard you would attempt to convince yourself in the middle of the night, that you were ‘just getting used to them’ or the like, there was always a lingering pit of jealousy that would slowly rot in your heart every time you were excused. 

Even now, sitting upon the ledge of a hidden cliff, legs dangled along the side– something that would have sent even Azriel into a spiral a mere two years ago, you had been left alone. To be frank, you weren't sure anyone noticed you had left. Not when a part of you could practically feel the joy reeking from the house, making your nose curl. 

In truth, you hated yourself for it, for the jealousy and pettiness. It felt dirty, making your insides burn with the feeling that you were being childish, that you were being ridiculous. The thought circled over and over in your head until it had made it spin, forcing you to shove your thumb against the middle of your brow bone. 

Though a cool, soothing tendril follows, wrap around your finger and lessen the sharp pain. Opening your eyes to find the source of the alleviation, you see a silken shadow shyly curling in on itself, a kid caught reaching into the cookie jar, not the weapons of destruction and peril most saw them as. Though, as endearing as the shadow was, it could only mean one thing.

Azriel was here.

“What do you want?” You murmur softly, looking down and dragging your fingers against the scattered pebbles around the cliff, plucking one up and flicking it, listening to the satisfying click…click..click as it ricochets off the base of the cliff, attempting to fill the void of the silence. 

“Checking up on you,” A familiar rumble, Azriel sits himself beside you and tenderly wraps a wing around her. “Are you alright?” 

“Just…peachy.” You grit out, trying not to curl in on yourself just like his shadow had just done, trying not to seep up the warmth of his attention. As you reach for another stone, Azriel gently picks up your hand, running a thumb over the back of it. His eyes look up at you kindly, expectantly. This is where you usually lay all your cards on the table, where you tell him that you’re not okay and that everything hurts. 

A part of you screeches to fight it, to take your hand back and look away. But the louder, gentler part of you yearns to soften into his touch. 

And so you do. 

You curl up to his side, burying your face into his shoulder and letting out a shaky sigh. Wrapping your arms around his bicep and squeezing your eyes shut, fighting the warm tears threatening to seep from your lashes. 

“I love you.” Azriel murmured softly, stroking your thigh, causing rapid flutters in your stomach. “You’re my best friend, and you will never not be my best friend.” 

“Then why are you never around?” You croak out weakly, wincing at the desperation in your voice, it's unnerving. 

“I don’t…I don’t know.” Azriel began, “Maybe because I felt a duty to Rhysand and Feyre? But even so, I still let this happen.” “You’re fine, Azriel.” You murmur, barely noticing him tense at the use of his full name, rather than an affectionate ‘Az.’ Even tense, he still found the strength to soften, just for you. Pulling you even closer, he lays his head against yours, lips idly resting on the crown of your forehead. “It’s not fine, love. It hurts you, and I refuse to do so any longer. Because you mean everything to me, alright?” He whispered, squeezing you tightly against his chest. “I'll talk to Rhysand, why don't we go to Svenda’s tomorrow, just us?” 

It wasn’t revolutionary, but it was a start, and that was the most important thing. “Alright.” 

At your agreement, Azriel smiled, a quiet, genuine smile. The two of you sat in comfortable, golden silence for an unknown amount of time. The tense atmosphere melting into intimacy and nearness, the warmth of it all making your eyelids heavy, eventually drifting to sleep. 

When you woke in the morning, you were tucked into bed, just how you’ve liked since you were a child. Eyes blearily scanning the area, before landing on a note, propped up on your bedside in a comfortingly familiar script. 

I’ll meet you here before Svenda’s, 6:00 pm. Wear something nice.

And you swear your heart did not flutter. 

©wrenisrad on tumblr

reminder that plagiarism is illegal

A/n: sorry if its rough, I haven't actually written in a year lol, hope we like it? Also, I cant remember where I got the borders from, I downloaded them a while ago, so if you recognize them could you please comment who the artist is so I can properly credit them!

[heartavenue]

⋆౨ৎ˚ Y2K Princess: London Tipton Inspired Things To Script ⋆౨ৎ˚

this post was heavily inspired by @premiumbitch-deactivated2025040. this post is not me trying to be a copycat or anything, I just love London and wanted to make a things to script based off her!

ᯓ★ Spoiled Rotten

Obviously your rich, and I mean rich. Several vacation homes that spans across numerous continents, twelve car garage, custom designer, multi-million dollar mansion that sits upon acres of land, black card toting, trust fund having, rich. Due to your silver spoon upbringing, you have the tendency to be a tad bit spoiled. Now this isn't necessairly a bad thing as you always get what your heart desires. Whether it's that new Channel bag you've been eyeing or just a quick trip to Paris, you always get it. And the best part about it? People adore you for it, you have your parents wrapped around your finger just like that. They give you every single thing you want, and then some.

ᯓ★ Iconic Fashion Style

From a Juicy Couture tracksuit (for whenever you're feeling bummy) to that custom made Versace dress, you are the moment. As soon as you walk into a room you turn heads, people practically break their necks trying to get a glimpse of who you're wearing. You have a sixth sense when it comes to fashion. You know exactly how to style something, it just comes to you. Everything you wear gains traction, people try to copy your style but they just can't because they are not you. Designers wish they could capture your natural sense of style. You were made for the runway. You have brands constantly calling you begging you to wear their work, because you are their stamp of approval.

ᯓ★ Timeless Beauty

Your face is pure perfection, no everything about you is perfection. Your face, your body, your aura, your personality is like you were sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Your beauty rivals no one. All day long you catch people admiring your beauty. Your beauty stands the test of time it spans from generation to generation. Everyone is just so captivated by you, so captivated it is like they are under your spell. They are hypnotized, hooked, longing for your every move. Your beauty transcends this Earthly realm, it is like you are an angel that fell down from heaven. You are constantly bombarded by compliments, not a day goes by without someone just telling you how beautiful you are.

ᯓ★ It Girl Status

There is not a single soul who doesn't know your name. Everywhere you go you hear whispers of people telling others about your arrival. You enter a room and you set the tone, people quiet down anticipating your every word. People move out of their way when they see you, they dare not make eye contact with you. You are beyond respected, no one ever thinks about crossing you. People don't know if they want to be with you or with you. Your presence is well known, and for anyone who doesn't know you...oh they will. Something about you makes people want to follow you around like a lost puppy, they wait in anticipation for your next move. If you say jump, they immediately leave the ground. You have an entourage, fan clubs, and people live for you. They're always wondering what you're going to do next. There isn't one person who's not completely and utterly enamored by you.

ᯓ★ Princess Treatment

You have a commanding yet subtle aura, anywhere you go that places automatically conform to your needs, to your wants. That restaurant you've been eyeing? As soon as you enter their doors they greet you automatically offering their best table, waiting on your hand and foot like the princess you are. When you go into your favorite store the attendants are rushing to your side, offering whatever they have just to please you. No matter where you go people are devoted to you. People give up their seats for you, they clear a path when they see you, if you're thirsty everyone in the vincinity offers you their water. You are the people's princess, it is like it is everyone's life duty to serve you, to live you, to breathe you. This is YOUR world, and you just allow them to live in it.

[its-not-a-pen]

i love the hilarious eunuch ranking system by @welcometothejianghu so i decided to make one based on (mostly) REAL historical chinese enunchs!

in chronological order:

Warring States Period long story short, the PM is sleeping with the Empress Dowager, and he wants to extracate himself before her son (future Emperor Qin Shi Huang) gets old enough to find out. the PM finds her a suitable replacement, and the replacement is attached to a guy named Lao Ai. They pluck his beard and pass him off as a eunuch so he can sneak into the palace. Bing bang boom everyone's happy. This goes terribly wrong later, since Lao Ai tries to replace the emperor with his own kids and stages a failed coup. rest in pieces buddy...

it's very likely that Lao Ai was a ficticious character invented by Sima Qian, who will be appearing on this list later.

Qin Dynasty

Zhao Gao helped the first emperor of China conquer an empire, and administer it efficiently with his legal knowledge, but he also made the second emperor into a puppet, and weakened the empire for his own political gain. Max points of complexity, but you'd get more loyalty out of a coffee club punch card.

Before launching his soft coup, he decided to test the waters by bring in a deer and gaslighted the emperor by calling it a horse. the officials who were loyal to him called it a horse, and he executed the rest.

Han Dynasty Jiru, male favourite of Emperor Gaozu (Liu Bang), the peasant scoundrel who became the founder of the Han Dynasty. look, if the emperor has a harem of hundreds of women and you manage to catch his attention, you max out in style points. simple as. for most of chinese history it was fairly common for high-ranking men, especially eunuchs, to wear make up like powder and rouge, but i decided to give Jiru some women's huadia as well, cause he's a baddie.

Jiru gets a bad rap for alledgely distracting the emperor from his duties, but lets be real, history is written by civil officials who have no shortage of professional jealousy and gender/sexuality related prejudice towards eunuchs, since they were the personal attendants of royalty and could exert a lot of influence. plus Liu Bang was already pissing in the hats of confucian scholars, most of the poor work ethic is on HIM. Jiru should get credit for making him marginally less of a troglodite.

all in all he didn't try any court intrigue so extra points for loyalty and complexity. free my man >:( he's just a Han dynasty Monica Lewinsky who got slutshamed by jealous coworkers >:(

Han Dynasty

meet the father of east asian history, sima qian. half the people on this list can owe their placement here thanks to his extremely though history books "records of the grand historian"

history at this time was mostly "creative writing" and sima qian attempted to give the practise more academic intergrety, he went out and personally interviewed people, tried to get primary sources, and got rid of most of the more fanstastical aspects. however, he was not without his biases and some texts can be seen as allegorical/veiled insults towards the Han Dynasty, especially towards Emperor Wu. unlike most of the people on this list, sima qian was from the gentry and castated later in life as a punishment for treason. he was implicated after trying to defend a friend, and could not pay the fine to commute his sentence. the gentlemen at the time were expected to die by suicide rather than live with such ignimony, but sima qian chose to live so he could finish writing the history book his father started. the "giant conspiracy" joke explained: the chinese word for penis is a homophone for "conspiracy".

[booksandteaandtears]

A much needed conversation

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!prosecutor!reader

summary: You and Robby have a serious talk about a subject you've been hesitant to bring up.

read how they met! | Masterlist

I was flabbergasted when I found out how much someone in Robby's role would be earning so this is me expressing my own ignorance. (Go get that bag though, 'cause those therapy sessions don't pay for themselves)

genre: don't worry, yet more fluff for this sweet couple, I could never do them harm 😉

about 1k words

You had been worried about something for a while, but had been hesitant to bring it up, because you did not want to embarrass Robby. It had been gnawing at you for a while though, so you knew you'd have to broach the subject someday. It was at a nice restaurant, some months into your relationship that you decided a conversation was needed.

"So, are you going to let me pay this time?" You asked. Robby looked at you, confused. He had never once let you near the waitress to pay, always faster than you to get his card out. "No? I can pay, I want to pay." He answered you. You sighed at him and tried to smile encouragingly. "Just let me pay Robby, I earn more than you." You tried to put it out there fast and soft. A laugh escaped him. "What?" You said, "You obviously don't even have the money for nice clothes. You can't be spending all this money on me, I am more than capable of paying. I know you doctor types are always massively in debt from med school. I was talking about it with my colleagues last week and I heard the average is about 350k of debt for doctors."

Robby couldn't stop his laughter from growing. "Do you really think I'm poor, based on the clothes I'm wearing? I didn't realise you were so close minded." Your cheeks grew red and you scoffed at him, "Well not poor, but you have been rotating the same three shirts for our dates these past months and some of the furniture in your apartment is almost falling apart. I didn't want to bring it up, because I know you men have complex feelings about your women earning more than you, but I think it's quite simple in this case. I earn more, so just let me pay." Robby took a sip of wine. "Firstly, I only own three nice shirts 'cause I have no time and desire to go shopping. I'd rather spend my precious free hours with you than in a mall. And secondly, even if you earned more money than me I'd have no issue with it. You've worked hard your whole life, you deserve the salary you earn. But again, don't just presume I don't earn more than you."

You sought eye contact with the man in front of you. "I'm a deputy district attorney, that's one of the highest paying jobs in the country." Robby just blinked. "I'm the chief of emergency medicine at a big hospital, do you not know how much a senior attending gets paid?" You scoffed, "What, like a $100.000 a year probably, $120.000 maybe as chief? But again, you're probably still paying off your student debt." "Try roughly three to four times as much. And no student debt. I'm getting close to sixty years old, if I was still in debt I'd be paying 'till I diead." Your mouth shot open. "Excuse me?" Robby finished the wine in his glass and nodded, still unable to stop laughing at your confusion. You blushed at the man in front of you. "Right, I feel stupid now. I genuinely thought you earned okay money, but this is just crazy. You are loaded." You looked at him, still in disbelief. "You know what," he answered, "We're going shopping tomorrow, I'll buy myself some different shirts and then I'm paying for those shoes you've been looking at for a month."

The next day Robby had made good on his promise and the afternoon had ended in the park with coffee and pastry. "So," Robby said while you were mid bite. "Are you going to tell me why you were so weird about the money yesterday? Did you really think I'd mind?" You almost chocked on your almond croissant. You'd had a hard time falling asleep the night before, going over the conversation in the restaurant several times before dreaming about it again.

You focused on a child running through the park and Robby put a hand on your thigh to pull your mind back to him. "Sorry." You murmur at him. "I shouldn't have had the conversation like that yesterday. I was wrong to presume anything about your financial situation. It's just been a painful point in some past relationships, so I thought I would lighten the blow a bit this way. I was wrong though."

Robby took a sip of coffee and you could see that he was overthinking what you had said. "What do you mean, a painful point in past relationships." He asked after some consideration. You shied away from the eye contact, looking at a dog nearby. "At some point they'd find out that I was earning more than them. They wouldn't tell me outright that they didn't like it, but they kept grumbling about it. It was never the main reason why things ended with my exes, but it was certainly a factor."

"They weren't sure enough of their masculinity that you out earning them was a point of friction? I see why women have so little trust in men. I thought we left being jealous of successful women behind in the seventies." You laughed at him, relief flooding your body from the ease of his reaction.

He turned to face you. "But why were you scared to bring that up with me? You didn't think I'd react the same, did you?" A flush crept over your face. "I should have known better, but yes, I was scared you would." Robby pulled you closer to him, your head leaning on his shoulder. "It's kind of strange for you to worry whether I'll still love you depending on your income," He murmured into your hair, "When last week you asked me if i'd still love you as a worm and my answer was yes." You giggled at him, content that the worry was off your mind and fully at peace with him in the moment. His hand reached up to your face and he pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

[oatmealwrites]

Sports Car!

CFO! Nanami Kento x F! Reader

Based on the song Sports car by Tate McRae

jjk masterlist | regular masterlist

Synopsis: Visiting a luxury resort for your friend's bachelorette party, you notice a mystery man in the lobby who almost seems to... recognize you? You're certain you've never seen him before, but he seems to notice you right away. Well, it's fine! It's supposed to be a fun girls trip anyways, so who cares if you entertain the attention from him for a bit? Besides, he might even take you for a ride. ;)

Tags: pining down bad Kento [my fav], scheming SatoSugu, french kissing, romantic fluff, miscommunication, road head, slight facial, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, missionary, p in v, slight breeding kink!, jealous nanami, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of infidelity, creampie, soft and domestic ending, p0rn w plot essentially, 18+, MDNI

a/n @ the end; this is so self indulgent

not proofread!

WC: 12k [IM SORRY, lowkey slow burn??]

~~~~~~~

The lobby of the hotel is nicer than the photos you had seen online as you tug your small carry-on suitcase across the granite tiled floors. There’s chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a small team of employees assisting with luggage and valet, and nearly all the other visitors are dressed in expensive suits and tailored clothing. 

You let out a low whistle and follow your group to reception while mentally distancing yourself from the state of your bank account after this trip. The entire budget was far too expensive for you, but the occasion for celebration demanded you absolutely had to be in attendance. 

“Ok, you three are on floor 8, and the rest of us are on 7..” Shoko addresses the group while passing out room cards. “Lets have 90 minutes to drop our things off and get dressed for the first event. Everyone in the lobby with your bathing suits no later than 3:15!”

Maki and Nobara snatch the key and elbow you in the side to keep up the pace as an employee takes your luggage and ensures it’ll be delivered shortly– another service tip slowly chipping away at your finances. The three of you walk to the elevator and awe at the decorations in the lobby while sidestepping to avoid the large crowds of people exiting the exhibition hall for an assumed lunch break. 

You nudge Nobara and keep your eyes on the mass of people trickling from the room. “What do you think is going on?” 

“Business conference.” Maki answers instead, pointing to a small sign for what seems like a financial law themed seminar. 

Nobara lets out a low whistle of “booooring” when a man dressed in a tailored khaki suit turns around at the noise. 

And he’s fine as hell. 

He’s maybe just over 6 feet tall and well built with blonde hair perfectly styled and gentle signs of exhaustion on his face; maybe a few years older than you, but definitely more experienced. 

There’s an expression of disinterest and slight agitation when his eyes scan the crowd in search of the offhand comment until they land right on you; a look of nearly recognition. It’s a brief shiver that shoots down your spine while Maki shoves Nobara for being so careless as to insult the very conference these people were probably paying an abysmal amount of money to attend in the first place. 

A trance in your eyes as you can’t seem to break the stare between you and mystery man, Nobara shakes your shoulder slightly as you find yourself completely glued to the floor. He pivots slightly, as if to move closer, with his mouth open partially to speak, when the rest of your group catches up to the elevator shafts. 

“You guys better not run late! 3:15 is the cut off if we’re gonna have time for this evening’s dinner.” Utahime hands Yuki her room key and turns to you. “And please remember the rule about wearing white.”

Moments before you’re whisked away, it seems another group of men had caught his attention, laughing and ushering him to the next event location with his blonde hair sandwiched between wisps of white and black. Before you can protest her accusation, you’re being shuffled into the elevator with the group of girls and can only get a few glimpses at the man before the doors shut. 

****

The 3:15 event is a pre-game at the resort pool bar filled with lounging next to the water, a poor attempt at volleyball, and enough strawberry daiquiris to make you nauseous from the alcohol and sugar content. Half of the girls take breaks to sit in the sun and tan, occasionally getting glimpses at the men that also linger around the pool, while you sit in the water on the pool stairs while Nobara floats idly beside you in a tube. 

“Can’t believe Shoko was able to organize all of this…”

Nobara keeps her face upwards at the sun with her eyes shut behind a pair of sunglasses. “Hmmm, being the maid of honor isn’t easy work.”

“I’m really grateful for it, I don’t know if I could've planned something like this.”

Yuki slams the inflatable volleyball down against the water and laughs while Utahime whines at the chlorine now soaking her hair; Mai and Maki lounge side by side laughing at the scene unfold. The sun is intense, and despite sitting in the water, you feel more dehydrated than ever before. 

With a soft sigh, you rise from the water and gently kick Nobara’s tube to float further away as light snores can be heard leaving her lips as she relaxes further. The concrete by the pool is hot, and you jump from shade to shade until you reach your chair to towel off.

“Leaving? We still have more time until we need to get ready for dinner, you know.” 

You turn to Maki and wrap the towel around your chest before slipping on your sandals, “Yea, just gonna run inside to grab an extra bottle of sunscreen. Don’t want Nobara to burn if she’s gonna be baking in the sun.”

Maki knows that other people definitely already have a spare bottle poolside, but she understands your silent need for a moment alone and doesn’t question it. You grab the room card from your tote and shuffle back towards the lobby with a shiver as the AC chills your damp skin.

Soft piano music now flows steadily through the large room as the waitstaff power-walk across the floor with preparations for the resort’s attached restaurant. Curious, and with nothing better to do, you walk over to the entrance and watch the way everyone sets white table cloths and candles on each table in preparation for the dinner rush. 

The restaurant has a long bar in the back against the wall, while tables are scattered across the floor all the way to the patio entrance. While the doors are shut for now, at evening time they open up to a large wooden deck that provides a beautiful view of the ocean only steps away from the hotel doors. A large wooden table sits near the patio doors; a floral bouquet, balloons, and candles litter the top as the chairs are draped in white cloth in celebration. 

“I take it you’re not here for the seminar.”

“!!”

You flinch and spin around, hand still clutching the towel, to find a mop of white hair similar to the one you had spotted in the lobby earlier. Clear, celeste blue eyes peer down at you while an intrigued and wolfish smile spreads across the man’s lips. He laughs at your reaction, but makes no effort to move from his position as he patiently waits for an answer. 

“Oh, uh… no, I’m not.”

He smiles a bit more and looks back at the working staff while waiting silently for elaboration. 

“It’s a bachelorette party.”

The man turns back to you, gently guiding your hips to make room for employees to carry in crates of vegetables to the kitchen, and cheekily shoots you another smirk. “Ohhh, sounds fun.”

He’s stereotypically handsome, with strong facial features, tall toned legs, and the air of confidence that leaves you completely at his beck and call. But he’s not him, he’s not the mystery man you saw earlier. 

You shrug and back up to the lobby with the white haired man idly keeping pace beside you with his lanky legs making up the distance in double time. Maybe it’s wrong, but you can’t help but peer around the lobby just in case the other gentleman might be nearby. 

“Looking for someone, sweets?”

Pausing, you clench the towel tighter and roll your eyes slightly at the pet name, but don’t bother reprimanding him for the way it sounded so natural to leave his lips. “Just my friends.”

He looks around the lobby, his hands in his pockets, when you finally take in the fact he had changed clothes from the suit you saw him in earlier. Instead of slacks and a button-up, he adorns slim-fit athletic trousers and a pale blue polo.

“Right, well I don’t think they’re here….?” He edges on, waiting for your name. 

Maybe if you were home, back at your menial job at a dingy bar your friends always drag you to, you wouldn’t bother giving it, but this time you do; he smiles at it and puts out his hand for you to shake. 

“Lovely to meet you–”

“Hey, Satoru! What are you doing..?”

You spin around with the man, Satoru, flipping from your handshake to a position with his hand wrapped around your shoulder blades. The voice radiates from the same man with long black hair you also saw in the lobby; the actual man you’ve been wondering about is still nowhere in sight. 

“Hey Suguru, just chatting with my friend.”

The other gentleman, Suguru, is also dressed in put-together alethic wear and raises an eyebrow at Satoru before dragging his eyes across you. Sandals on your feet and pool towel still wrapped around you, it’s obvious that Satoru had bumped into you rather than actually been hanging out. 

Suguru doesn’t question it though, he offers an introduction and gives Satoru a slight nudge with an eyebrow raise, before walking towards the large entrance doors of the lobby. Despite his hand no longer on your back, you feel yourself being guided to follow suit, as if you were meant to join this strange group. 

“Kento’s gonna be mad if we’re late to golf with Yaga. You know how that old guy is about deadlines.”

Satoru whines playfully at his friend and shrugs. “I win every game regardless, so why do we even bother playing in the first place?”

“It’s about the principle, you know that.” Suguru smoothly responds as the three of you walk to the valet stand right in front of the lobby. 

You follow suit, walking beside the men and taking in the way they acted like a game of business golf with an exorbitant fee was the same as getting a coffee from the convenience store. The three of you make it to the valet stand where Satoru huffs about the fact ‘he’s not even here yet’ before Suguru spins around and finally acknowledges you once again. 

“I take it you’re not playing with us this time? Unfortunately, I don’t think a bikini is allowed on the green.”

You pause, the slight drip of chlorine still steadily falling from your skin and you sheepishly shrink back slightly from the mention that you had no real connection to these men in the first place. “Oh, uh.. No I’m not.”

“A real shame if you ask me.” Satoru dramatically responds, only looking back towards the pull-up area when a dark gray Mercedes [AMG GT coupé] parks in the front. 

Any voice in your throat is cut short as the car remains idling while the driver opens the door and slides out. Standing upright, sleeked and well groomed blonde hair pops into view as the man gracefully declines valet and slips off his sunglasses. 

It’s hard not to stare; the biceps of his arms stretching the short sleeves of his polo while sturdy thighs are pushing the thread limits of his golf trousers. He fills out everything in all the right places. 

Suguru steps down the front stairs to greet the man while Satoru lets out a snort at your obvious stare and gives a quick elbow to your ribs. Another young man slinks out of the back seat spot and runs around to pop open the trunk of the car.

“Nanamin, did you want to put anything else back here?”

The blond man, who you thought was Kento(?), doesn’t pause at the nickname and instead shakes his head. “That’s alright Itadori, you know we will have caddies on the course, right?”

Wait.. Itadori? Where have you heard that name from before….?

A smile akin to blinding sunlight emits from the younger man’s mouth as he excitedly shuts the hatch and nods eagerly. Itadori remains by the idling car, but looks up to assess the woman his seniors are talking to; the expression of borderline recognition crosses his face as it did yours. 

“Nice of you to bring your intern, Kento.” Suguru comments, approaching him.

“He’s good at his job…and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Satoru lets out a wolfish giggle and pushes you slightly forward to get the man who you’ve been searching for. “Well maybe we can use a cart girl for the next game.”

Kento looks up from his small talk with Suguru and his eyes widen slightly at seeing you once again, though this time up close…. and in a pool towel. He stutters slightly before raising a stern eyebrow to the pair of cackling white and blacked hair men. 

“You two–”

“she’s our friend!” Satoru slinks a casual arm around your shoulder, though the act isn’t as flirty as he’s dramatically portraying it to be. “Figured it would be good for everyone to meet, especially if we’re gonna keep bumping into each other for the weekend.”

Kento scowls at him but turns to you with a calm expression. “I’m very sorry for any trouble these two have caused you. If it’s an issue, I can escort you to the concierge desk to report a proper claim against them–”

“HEY!” Satoru interjects. “She’s here for a wedding party and we’re here for a boring conference at the same time. What’s the harm if we make friends with our co-hostages at this place??”

A 5-star ocean-front resort is your last definition of a hostage by any definition of the phrase, but the theatrics Satoru puts on eases the tension regardless. Suguru laughs and places a steady hand on Kento’s stiffened shoulder before walking over to Yuji to claim the shotgun seat of the car. 

“I’m alright.” You finally speak up. “Really, it’s nice to meet other people here too.”

Kento keeps his gaze sternly on Satoru, but eventually eases up to reassess your expression. He keeps his vision on your face, taking in several details, before coughing slightly and nodding once. “Alright then, it’s nice to formally meet you–”

“Ah, too professional!” Satoru pushes you forward slightly and gives a harder smack to the chiseled back of Kento with a cheesy grin. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a little stiff right now.”

The blonde shoots his head in his companion’s direction before the horn of his idling car honks with Suguru rolling the window down. “We’re gonna be even more late! Stop jerking each other off and let’s go!”

“Yea! What he said!” Yuji echoes in the back.

Both men scoff lightly and offer a ‘goodbye’ while walking down to the car; still standing in the towel, you take a slight step forward and raise a hand before they disappear inside. “See you later… Satoru, Suguru,....Kento!”

His name fell naturally from your lips, and you can swear there was maybe the ghost of a blush on his cheeks as he waves back and slides into the driver’s seat. From Suguru’s still open window, you can hear Satoru goading his name was the one you called first, while Itadori is convinced he’s seen you somewhere before. 

From the angle of his side-view mirror, you can see his gaze linger on your figure before the sports car engine roars as it leaves the hotel parking lot. 

****

“Did you move my hair straightener…? I swear I just had it–” The words die on Maki’s lips as Nobara peers out of the bathroom with said device pinching a section of hair. “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking so long! Isn’t your hair naturally straight already?”

Nobara waves her off and continues the finishing touches while Maki stands impatiently in the doorway waiting for her to finish; you shimmy on the delicate pair of heels and test walk a few times to see how badly they hurt. 

Deciding the pain isn’t too intense, as you guys would be sitting down to eat anyways, you move to the large standing mirror in the suite to smooth out any wrinkles of your satin mini-dress. The alarm clock on the desk besides you reads 8 minutes before the reservation time is set for. 

“Shoko is going to kill us if we aren’t in the lobby on time~” You sing out to the two bickering girls as Maki pries the straightener from Nobara and rapidly adjusts her hair. The latter woman waves you off and slides into her heeled sandals before scrolling through her phone idly. 

“Huh, Itadori’s here too?”

You spin around at the name and stand beside her to peer at her social media. On the ‘close friend’s only’ story is a partial selfie with a variety of other men in the background chatting and lining up their next shot on the green. A few guys are unfamiliar to you, but the heads of white, long black, and sleek blonde hair immediately catch your gaze. 

“Huuh? Aren’t those the guys you were talking to?”

You didn’t even hear Maki walk back into the room but Nobara shoots you both a confused glance. Combing her straightened hair into a sleek ponytail, Maki shoots you a side glance. “You took too long to get the sunscreen earlier so I was gonna check up on you… but once I saw you with those meatheads I figured it would be best to give you some space.”

A hot blush and panic spreads across your face while Nobara makes fake vomit sounds and retches beside you. “Ewwww! We had a rule of ‘no men!’ for this trip, and you go hang out with Itadori?!”

“What? No!... he was just there when I was already talking to Kento.”

“Kento?!” They scream at the same time. 

You raise a hand to drag across your face, but pause at the threat of ruining the makeup you spent the last 35 minutes doing. “There were a group of guys there for the financial seminar… Satoru, Suguru, and Kento…”

Maki and Nobara stare at you incredulously before peering back down at the phone. Feeling left out you nudge them both. “Ok, and now can you two explain how the hell you know them??”

Nobara taps through his story a few times more and holds up a better photo of Itadori, “We went to high school together and he didn’t transfer into our undergrad university until like junior year. I’ve mentioned him a few times, but you two were in different majors so you probably never bumped into him.”

Maki leans forward and points to Satoru and Suguru, “Mmm I’m pretty sure these guys have beef with like my uncle or something. A rivaling firm for whatever shady business schemes they’re all roped into.”

You lean in and watch each photo tap by, your gaze lingering on the shamelessly glazed photos Itaodri pridefully posts about his mentor. The sweat dripping from his temple as he swings his club, the casual steering of the golf cart, and the way he flexes his thighs juuuust a little before lining his next shot. 

“She’s totally gone.”

“Hey.” You blink back at the two of them. “Anything on the mystery blonde man? Suguru mentioned something about Itadori being his intern.”

Nobara taps her chin once but can’t seem to come up with an answer. “Can’t say for sure. I’ll just text Megumi and have him fill me in–.”

“Oh shit, it’s 7:20!” Maki scurries for her shoes while you leap across one of the beds to grab your purse and Nobara dives for her lipstick on the bathroom counter. 

The three of you run for the elevator, ignoring the tourists and other visitors in the hallways, and pant when you reach the resort restaurant entrance to an annoyed Utahime. She has her arms folded but lets you all off with a sigh and a stern look before guiding you to the table where the rest of the girls sit languidly chatting and browsing the menu. 

Mai chuckles at the three of you and places the drink menu down with a chuckle. “Ah, nice of you to make it.”

Maki rolls her eyes while Nobara scans down the table to make sure no one else is within ear shot. “It’s not our fault! She was talking to a guy!”

“What?!”

Yuki and Shoko turn to look down the table while you sink your seat and hide behind a menu card before Mai repeats her shock again, though this time in a lower volume. 

“What do you mean you were talking to a guy? The first rule of this whole trip is no men.”

You whine when Nobara and Maki snicker beside you and fiddle with the edges of the menu before defensively sitting back up and using the extensive wine list as a barrier. “Listen, they approached–”

“They?!”

You cough and kick her shin. “Yea, they approached me and I was just being friendly. Nothing else.”

Nobara peers down at her phone and slides it on the table between the four of you. “Yea, sooo friendly with Itadori’s mentor from the consultancy company he’s working for.” 

Megumi’s contact is pulled up on the screen with a variety of images of him walking a pair of dogs, followed by Nobara’s sudden question, his answer, and then his follow up of asking why she wanted to know in the first place. She leaves him on delivered and places the phone back in her purse. 

Maki lets out a low whistle and clicks her tongue a few times. “Yuta told me he was thinking of applying there; the salaries are no joke. Starting wage for a consultant is 150k.”

You nearly choke on your order to the waiter for a glass of wine and gawk at her in shock. 150k… starting??? You really should’ve changed career paths. 

Mai hums in approval and sips her cocktail while Nobara opens up a new text chain to Itadori reminding him that he should take her and Megumi out to dinner some time to congratulate him on the position. Maki crosses her arms and shuts her eyes with a look of pride on her face. “You know what, I can’t even be mad that the guy you’re talking to works there. If he’s not a junior consultant, I can only imagine the paycheck he must be packing.”

Now that you think about it, all three of them were oozing wealth when you bumped into them. Satoru’s sunglasses were definitely prada, the clip holding up Suguru’s hair was Chanel, and fuck, even Kento’s car was probably more than your entire annual salary for 3 years. 

But why the hell were they even giving you time of day in the first place? It’s not like you really knew them– only a small string of mutuals that wasn’t discovered until now. 

“And, I just want to thank all of you for being here on such an important trip. It’s not everyday that one of our friends is getting married!!” Yuki says, standing and speaking loudly with her glass raised up. 

She takes one look down at you and coughs slightly at your faraway state. “Right?”

You cough and raise up your now delivered wine glass. “Oh, yes! It’s a very important moment.”

Shoko looks down into her glass with a muttered ‘Jesus’ and waits for Yuki to finish her toast before downing the entire thing. The table erupts into cheers and celebration as the waitstaff open the patio doors to the evening ocean view only footsteps away. A few claps emit from the restaurant, as people joyously applaud and the live background music grows louder. 

With the doors open, wafts of fresh salty air carry throughout the restaurant as the group begins the first of many hours of wining and dining. Each course is more delicious than the last, each bottle of wine has a higher alcohol percentage than the previous, and by the time dessert rolls around, you barely have the ability to sit upright. 

Mai is roped off into a conversation with Utahime as the girls slowly spread to the patio fence to overlook the ocean, to the small dance floor by the live band, and the bar along the back wall. From beside you, Nobara sends a few texts to Itadori while Maki leans her head on her shoulder, making an occasional comment.

With your wine glass empty and a heat on your cheeks, the cool night air doesn’t leave you shivering, but instead seems to be inviting you for a walk on the beach. Though, what’s a walk on the beach without a drink in your hand?

Standing up and heading to the bar, you idly glide past a few bodies until you lean against the counter and look at the drink list offered. Nothing in particular seems to catch your eye, and in a moment of consideration for just another glass of champagne, a deep voice rings out behind you. 

“Would you like a recommendation?”

Kento moves to stand beside you, his golf attire replaced with a turquoise button-up and tan slacks, as he gives you a soft smile. Woodsy cologne radiates from him and his hair is wind blown from the ocean breeze that drafts into the room. You smile at the man and blush slightly before pointing to your own empty flute. 

“I honestly might get a refill since I know it’ll be good. And besides,” you give him a once over with an earnest smile. “You look more like a whiskey-neat kinda guy.”

Kento chuckles slightly, but doesn’t counter the claim at all; when the bartender comes around, he orders exactly that. You place the flute on the counter upon asking for a refill and move to grab your wallet when Kento tugs your hand away and yells over to the waitstaff to place it under the tab ‘Nanami’. There’s a comfortable pause as you slide your wallet away. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Kento smiles into the drink and passes you your refill with a shrug. “It’s the least I can do, it seems you and your friends are… celebrating.”

The word is forced with a stiffness in his jaw that you can’t quite discern before a few wolf-whistles can be heard from behind you. Two sets of footsteps approach as Satoru and Suguru saunter up with questionable posture from their current tipsy state and laugh at the two of you. 

“Ah, didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Just grabbing another drink while our dear friend here is still offering to pay.”

Suguru chuckles at his companion and leans against the bar. “Yea, despite knowing Satoru and I would win, you still offered drinks to the victors. “

Kento scoffs at the two of them, half gracefully accepting his sportsmanship compliments and half for their inebriation when they have another round of seminars starting at 8am the next morning. Satoru whines a few times and slings an arm around the black haired man before shuffling closer to the bar to place another order as if they could simply ignore the blonde who stood just feet away. 

In exasperation, he pinches the bridge of his nose before you place a gentle hand on his forearm and tilt your head to the wooden patio stairs. “I was gonna walk along the beach, if you want to join me? Maybe get some fresh air?”

Despite the question being for Kento, Satoru whips his head around and gives a sharp elbow to his dark haired friend with a knowing look. The drink order is in the back of his mind as he gains sobriety for just a brief moment. “You know, that’s a great idea. Kento loves the beach, and Suguru and I would join you but…” He looks at his friend. 

“–But we have plans already. I saw on Shoko’s social media that she’s staying here too, Satoru and I were going to say hello…and we’ll tell her you said ‘hi’.”

You weren’t really inviting them too, but their not-so subtle rejection gave you a bit more relief than you’d like to admit. 

Kento pauses for a moment, obviously aware that the two men were scheming something, but looking back at you, he already had his answer. Moving his whiskey glace to the other hand, he puts out his forearm as a way for you to steady yourself and offers a gentle smile. “I’d love to accompany you, if that’s alright.”

A tried and true gentleman, Kento guides you to the patio stairs and gives you a moment to slide off your heels to avoid breaking an ankle in the sand. Hammocks are splayed out between a variety of palms, and there’s a system of twinkling outdoor bulbs that create a guided path along the ocean. A few other people still linger by waves while a handful of couples chat idly by the outdoor sports activities set up. 

“It’s a beautiful night, huh?”

Kento holds his loafers in one hand and his whiskey glace in the other, mirroring your position. “Yes, it is.”

Despite the lack of conversation, the atmosphere is calm and lively. Waves crash against the sandbank while live music from the restaurant still lingers in the air as you two continue walking along the coast. When Kento’s not admiring the scenery of the ocean, he’s stealing occasional glances at you. 

You catch his gaze on one of these moments, and despite being caught, he holds your stare before gently smiling to himself and looking back towards the water. Swirling some of the bubbly in your glass, you match his leisurely pace and nudge him slightly. 

“Were you aware that we already kinda know each other? Your intern is close with my best friend.”

Kento sucks in a short breath, not saying anything; you watch his stiffened body language and backtrack at how weird you must sound. “I mean… it’s not like a close connection, but isn’t it coincidental that we have mutual acquaintances?”

Upon hearing that was the end of your recollection, he lets out a short sigh and finally turns back to you. “Ah, it’s a small world then.”

The two of you continue walking along the beach, talking about anything from your interests to small anecdotes about the beautiful view. You learn he loves to read and has a soft spot for baked goods, while he learns about your job and the little hobbies you always wish you had more hours in the day to make time for. 

After a while, you both turn back and sit at a small hill of sand that overlooks the waves. Your wine glass is empty and sitting far to the side with your hand propped up behind you slightly for support. It feels so comfortable in the moment, and looking up at the stars above, you barely notice when Kento slides his hand to gently rest atop yours.

“Hm?” You don’t mean to immediately look over, but the moment you do, Kento draws his hand back like he’s been burned and stares off into the distance. 

“I’m sorry that was wrong of me.”

You blink a few times. “Wait, what? No, I don’t mind! I was just surprised.”

He shakes his head and mutters a string of profanities to himself before rubbing his face and glaring at the ocean waves ahead. 

“No, it’s wrong. All of this. I should have never introduced myself, bought you a drink, and came out here with you… I also should have never let those two idiots meddle in things either.” He mumbles the last part mainly to himself.

You flinch and slink back at the sharp rejection he quickly laid out. Tugging your hand away from its position on the sand, you dust the sand from your dress and prepare to stand up. “Oh. If you didn’t want to be around me, you could’ve just said so.”

“What?”

You both stare at each other, still seated on the sand, in complete shock at each other’s responses. 

“What…?” You parrot back to him. 

Kento opens his mouth before sighing and scratching his jaw. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here– I do. But it’s wrong. Simple as that.”

“What are you talking about? If you want to be here, with me… and I want the same thing, then why does it matter–?”

“It matters because you’re getting married.”

A heavy silence falls over the both of you, with nothing but the sound of waves lapping at the sand filling the air. Kento lets out a breath and tucks his forehead to his knees, testing out the words on his tongue before saying them. 

“You’re getting married. The last thing you should be doing is sitting here with me.”

You blink a few times. “I’m not getting married though?”

…

Kento looks up, his brain short circuiting as if he either didn’t hear you or didn’t believe you. “What…? But the wedding party–”

“Bachelorette party.” you correct.

“The ‘wearing white’ rule–”

“My bathing suit earlier wasn’t white… just my towel covered it.”

“And the toast…?” He asks, quickly unraveling the embarrassing truth himself.

“Yuki just called me out because I wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t a toast for me.”

Kento pauses. “And the setting of the table for the bride…”

“Is for my friend Mei Mei. She’s marrying some random millionaire man in a few months and her maid of honor, Shoko, planned this trip.”

He pauses before grabbing ahold of your left hand and finally notices an obvious lack of engagement ring. A laughter escapes your lips and his ears burn red and he lets out a breath of relief and frustration. “I should’ve known better than to listen to them.”

NO, YOU AIN'T GOT NO MRS.

You let him wallow in self grievances for a moment before reaching across to tug his left hand up for inspection. “No ring on you either. I take it you’re also not married, given the sports car as well.”

Kento intertwines his hand in yours for a moment, a melancholy look on his face that melts when his gaze scans your features again under the moonlight. He runs a thumb over your knuckles before pulling you to stand up next to him. 

“No, I’m not. But…almost.”

His voice is quiet, though not inherently sad, and you keep silent at his honesty. You didn’t mean to pry for such a sensitive subject and find interest in kicking the sand as you walk. 

“I’m sorry.”

Kento tugs your hand to remain next to him; your other hand balances the stem of the flute and the straps of your heeled sandals. 

“Don’t be, you didn’t know.” He tilts his head to the side and lets out a steady exhale. “I was engaged a little over a year ago. But there was infidelity on her side… and the plans quickly fell apart. It’s all in the past now.”

You bite your lip and lean slightly into his bicep, in an act of comfort and confidence from the alcohol in your blood. Craning your neck up at the mountain of a man, you can’t even imagine cheating on him. The idea is so bewildering to you that you don’t realize he continued the conversation. 

“Though I’m surprised you made the car connection.” He chuckles dryly in embarrassment. “I admit… I used some of the money I set aside for the wedding payment.”

You continue walking side by side, as if it was the most natural way to spend any evening, and can begin to hear the music from the restaurant get louder the closer you get. 

“Well… it must have been a very extravagant wedding you were planning; your car is very nice.”

Kento lets out a low chuckle and continues guiding you towards the resort area once again, though his pace is noticeably slower. Despite the amount of drinks in your system, an ounce of sobriety has led to a slight shiver at the cool evening wind that nips at your exposed skin. 

“Forgive me, I left my jacket behind, otherwise I would offer it.”

You try to play off the goosebumps on your arms and shake your head. “Ah, I’m alright. To be honest I wanted to keep walking.” The interior of the restaurant is semi-visible, though you can make out the chaotic dancing and giggling of the girls at your table. “I don’t think they mind too much that I’m out anyways.”

Kento follows your gaze and stops walking, the crash of the ocean waves fills the silence as he finally spots the bride-to-be inside before pivoting to turn to you. Salty air pulls your hair in a variety of directions, and he pushes back a few strands to get an unobstructed view of your face. 

“To be honest… I was so worried that this bridal trip was for you…” His hand cups your jaw and lets his thumb trace the lower line of your lip. 

“...Really…? Why…”

You’re standing breathless as Kento looks from eye to eye before his gaze lingers on your lips. The music still pouring out from the patio and far away voices are defined as he leans down to connect his mouth to yours. 

It’s slow and gentle at first, as if he wasn’t too sure if this was the right move but he molds his lips against yours with the impatience of waiting for you to kiss him back. And you do. 

Arms wrap around his neck and haphazardly drop your sandals into the sand while Kento tosses his loafers to the ground and wraps his hand around your waist to keep you pulled into him. Patience gone, he rocks his lips into yours with experienced force as if he had been waiting for this moment. 

It’s hypnotizing, the way he molds his lips to yours and runs his tongue out just slightly before slipping it into your mouth as if it was his to do so. Everything feels so hot as his tongue rubs against yours and saliva begins to drip from the corner of your mouth from the messiness. Teeth occasionally clinking when you pause to breathe; he urges forward with no desire of letting you go, even for a moment.

Large hands rub circles on your hip bones through the thin fabric of the dress, and when he grinds his pelvis forward just slightly, you can feel the rough outline of a bulge forming in his slacks. The pressure emits a gasp from your throat that leaves him pulling back slightly, worried if he was coming on too strong for the first encounter. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to…”

“N-No!” You quickly interject before cringing slightly at how desperate it must sound. “I mean… it’s ok…”

 Kento nods once and swallows thickly; his hand still possessively keeping you pressed into him. The chatter from the restaurant pours out from the patio, and you look up at the people stumbling to the beach before turning back up to the man at your side. You both must be thinking the same thing, that you don’t want to go back just yet. 

Realistically, if Kento’s worried that he’s overstepping a boundary just by being erect, then it’s you who has to take the initiative for this. 

“We don’t have to go back inside, you know.” You smooth out an invisible wrinkle across his chest and nearly falter from the low voice that replies.

“But you’re cold.”

Pursing your lips, you think about it for a moment but tetter on the edge of actually committing to the offer. The last thing you want to come across as is a gold digger, but it’s the only option you can think of. 

OH, BUT YOU GOT A SPORTS CAR

“What about going for a drive?”

Kento holds your gaze, letting the phrase sit in his head for a few moments before smirking slightly and tugging you in closer. “Yea? Didn’t take you for the type to wanna go on joyrides.”

You suck your bottom lip in slightly and shrug. “Well if you’d rather we go back inside–” he pulls you back into him when you feign walking back towards the patio stairs and chuckles dryly. 

“Alright then, follow me.”

You both pick up the fallen (thankfully) unbroken glasses from the sand and slide them on the patio floor for an unfortunate closing employee to pick up later, before walking around the restaurant to the side parking lot. Kento holds you for support so you can kick the sand off your feet before assisting you into your heels and guiding you to the ‘reserved’ spot. 

“Doesn’t the valet have your keys?”

He keeps one hand on the small of your back and fishes out his keyring from his front pocket with a sideway smile. “I don’t enjoy leaving things precious to me with amateurs.”

It’s surprisingly cocky, but it goes straight to your cunt, as he easily guides you to the sleek dark-gray sports car that roars to life with the remote start he clicks on. The LED headlights illuminate the asphalt of the parking lot, and when Kento guides you to the passenger side and opens the door, there’s a projected ‘Mercedes’ logo shining down against the concrete. No expense is spared. 

“After you.”

He guides you inside and only releases his grasp on your hand once you’re completely seated inside. In a few short strides, he crosses in front and takes his position behind the wheel before shifting gear and pulling out of the parking lot. 

Kento drives slowly at first, letting you take in the sights of the town that accompanies the resort before you turn to him and trace the angle of his jaw; he takes your palm and kisses the back of your hand without ever taking his eyes off the road. 

“I thought you said this was going to be a joyride? Hmmm?”

He chuckles and peels his eyes off the road to give you a sideways glance before releasing your hand and pinching the top of your thigh. “I don’t want you getting motion sick on me… and besides, I don’t like driving like that with important cargo.”

“Oh come on,” you tease at him, placing his hand flat on the upper flesh of your thigh and batting your eyelashes at him. “Just for a little bit, for me? Pleaseee?”

Immune to your charm, he gives your thigh one more squeeze before pressing his foot against the accelerator and taking off down the empty road ahead. With a slight squeal, you recover from the pressure and roll down the windows and peer out at the hills of golf courses that pass by in flashes. 

Kento shifts the gear for an upcoming curve before placing his hand back on your leg and gripping it a bit tighter. “Hang on angel, might get a little bumpy.”

The car roars down the road, with the only illumination coming from the headlights and occasional streetlights that border. Your hair whips in every direction as the speedometer steadily increases as you make it to the straightaway, Kento occasional glimpses over at your direction with a smirk splayed. 

Caring less if you crashed (though with his smooth operation, you’re convinced it would be impossible), you pivot in your seat and face him fully as the world flies by outside the window. Tracing the veins on his forearm of the right arm on the wheel, he gives you a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything until you skim the buttons of his shirt and toy with the seam of his slacks. 

WE CAN UH-UH IN IT

WHILE YOU DRIVE IT REAL FAR

Palming the belt and clicking your manicured nails against the buckle, he shifts his hips slightly as if suddenly aware of the bulge that had been pressed against his fly for the entirety of the drive. 

Kento sucks in a breath and slows down slightly. “What are you up to?”

You laugh and place a firm hand against the muscular curve of his thigh and push his leg down onto the accelerator to speed up once again. “Nothing in particular… but I can stop if you want.”

A throaty groan escapes his lips when you trace the outline of his cock through the fabric before he leans back in his seat and jerks forward slightly. “Don’t– please.”

Never one to displease, you turn your attention back down to his erection and trace the outline once more until you reach over with both hands to release the buckle. Pulling the leather from the fabric loops, you toss the accessory to the backseat with a slight ‘clink!’. 

Kento’s eyes are still on the road, but his knuckles are white at the way they grip the wheel and his pelvis twitches against the seatbelt snug against his hips. Clicking the release and letting the material shrink back to the holder, he gives you a sideways glance before guiding your hand to the fly of his slacks. 

“Are you gonna make me ask again?” He gruffly teases without any real bite behind it.

You keep your hand on his groin but lift up slightly to plant a small peck to his jaw with a ‘no~’ before undoing the button and letting the zipper down. Navy blue boxer briefs are stained with a dark patch and immediately push through the now open layer of his slacks; still confined in his underwear, his cockhead pries though the fly painfully. 

It twitches a few times under your touch as you pinch the fabric around the elastic band to slide the material down just a few inches more; Kento lifts his hips to assist and the car speeds up as the pressure on the accelerator grows. 

His cock is long, pushing 8 inches, with a fair thickness that remains from the base to the tip. Dirty blonde pubes fall in messy tufts along his navel and litter down to his swollen balls; his cockhead weeps pearls of precum from the pretty blushed slit [#e59d9d]. Nearly drooling at the image and your poor unstretched cunt clenching at the idea of it somehow fitting inside, Kento looks over with an undescernable expression on his face. 

“I know I haven’t exactly kept up… appearances down there…” He quietly speaks, eyes on the road but foot letting up on the accelerator just a bit. 

You smear some of the lubricant down his tip and push down on the throbbing engorged veins that run along the flesh. As if you would really care about the fact he hasn’t shaved in a minute, the man is the epitome of pure sex appeal. Plus there’s something about a man who hasn’t had any action in a while acting so desperate for you, that it’s even more of a turn on. 

“I don’t mind in the slightest.”

Before he can protest again, you run your tongue flat across his slit and take in the salty taste of his arousal before letting long strings of saliva drip from your lips and coat his shaft. Tongue rutting against his frenulum a few times, you rub the mixture of pre cum and spit along his cock before guiding it into your mouth. 

“O-Oh– fuck.”

One of his hands immediately leaves the wheel and finds purchase in your hair, partially pulling it out of your face and partially pushing your head down juuuust a little further. 

The staggering number of inches can’t fit entirely in your mouth, so you take in what you can while one hand jerks off the rest with the same rhythm as the bob of your head while the other hand cups his balls. A few pubic strands tickle your nose as the occasional bump in the road causes you to reach a bit further down his length. 

“Ngh– just like that.. Ah–”

Kento’s head is pushed back into the headrest of his seat while his hips slide further and twitch as you suck the soul from him. Each thrust of his pelvis to reach further in your throat is matched with a purr from the engine as the weight of his foot presses down on the gas further; the gusts of wind from outside aren't loud enough to drown out the groans that fall from his lips. 

Your hair is still blowing in every direction and the gloss that once adorned your lips has now created a shiny smear of pink along his shaft. Jaw slightly aching, you slip him from your mouth and run the flat of your tongue over his head a few times before placing it in your wet palm and jerking off just the tip. Keeping your head lowered, each jerk of your wrist guides it up onto your awaiting tongue with rhythm. 

After a few moments, and a substantial rest of your mouth, you pop him back between your lips and hollow your cheeks to suck him off once again. Kento’s thigh flex beneath you and a steady string of muffled curses fall from his lips before he tilts his head back once more. 

“Ahh, close… fuck I’m close..”

Kento gnaws on his bottom lip and furrows his brows before applying the brakes and swerving to park on the side of the road. Far from the resort but still by the sandy coast, there’s not a single headlight or streetlight in view as he hastily puts the car in park and slides his seat back just a tad. 

Both hands now on your head, one holding your hair and the other guiding your movements, he plants his feet on the car floor and begins fucking up into your mouth. 

“Trying to make me fucking crash, huh? Acting all sweet with a filthy mouth” He groans out while jerking up an erratic rhythm.

Tears fall from your eyes at the lack of oxygen as the once gentleman has seemingly flipped a switch and has begun manhandling however he sees fit. “Mmfpgh-!”

“Haaa” he sarcastically coos above you. “So fucking good, knew it… ngh– the moment I saw your photo”

Kento continues mumbling a string of incoherent phrases until you feel the large vein running under his shaft throb a few times and he’s cumming hot ropes of semen down your throat. The consistency is a bit watery and slides down relatively easily with a sweet taste as he fists himself a few times when your lips pop off him to shoot a few more residual drops onto your face. 

“Cumming! F-Fuck I’m cumming–”

It drips down your cheeks and slightly stains the fabric of his slacks as you swallow the load in your mouth and Kento breathes heavily. Wiping the corner of your lips and peering up at the man, his eyes are wired shut as a few beads of sweat slip down his temple and hot pants leave his open mouth. 

Once he comes back to his senses, he sits upright and shuffles around in his seat to find a spare silk handkerchief and wipe along your face– gentle to not smudge anything.

“Sorry, I should’ve given you a proper warning.” His touch is soft, a complete 360 from seconds ago, and his voice is warm. Upon finishing cleaning you up, he lets you fix your hair before tapping your jaw and nudging you for a kiss.

It’s a strange exchange, though not an unwanted one. Despite just treating you like some cum slut and jerking up into your throat, he now plants lingering kisses against your lips and keeps his hand firmly on your thigh after he tucks himself back into his pants. Shutting the windows and placing your seat warmer on, he puts the Mercedes back into drive and begins the drive back to the resort with his touch still on you. 

“Let me repay you, please.” He offers, eyes still dilated as his fingers pinch the exposed pieces of flesh your dress doesn’t cover.

You rub your hand along his knuckles and lean into your seat; nipples hardening under your dress and cunt weeping into the flimsy fabric of your panties. 

“When you say ‘repay’, it makes it seem like I’m just a girl you hired.” 

It’s harmless teasing at his wording, but Kento’s expression falls slightly and the grip on your thigh tightens almost possessively. “No. Never.”

You blink at him with a blush and look at your hands with fluster as he takes his hand from your leg for a moment to bring your palm to his lips and plant a few kisses before finding its spot back on your thigh. 

The drive back to the resort is nearly tooth-rottingly sweet. Kento ensures, once again, that he wasn’t too rough on you and makes offers for future meetings before you’ve even finished this one. He tells you that the seminar going on happens every year at this location, and he’s come to learn a lot of good local spots. The best seafood restaurants, marine centers, and even the hours when the boardwalks aren’t too crowded; he offers to take you to all of them once his conference ends for the day during the week. 

“I do have a few bachelorette activities to attend though” You remind him with a squeeze of his hand. 

He frowns and gives a slight pout before clearing his throat and tilting his head. “Well, in the moments you are available, I’d be happy to have your company…. Or even after we go back home.”

The resort comes into view in the window and you turn to him with a smile. “Oh yea, the company you work for is by me– I nearly forgot Nobara mentioned that Itadori got hired there recently…”

Kento swallows slightly and the Adam’s apple in his throat bobs once as you continue talking. “She mentioned that he’s working as an intern in the finance department… Are you like his manager?”

He tilts his head and directs the car back into its reserved spot. “Sort of…I have a comfortable position as the head financial officer of the company.”

You nod at first and get ready to leave the car until the words actually seep into your mind. Wait.. CFO?! Of an international consulting company?! A company with a net worth in the billions. With a ‘B”?!?!

He slips out of his seat and walks around to your side to open the door while you attempt to act as casually as humanly possible that this man might have more money than the GDP of several nations combined. Slipping his hand behind the small of your back to guide you back to the entrance, he stops short and slips his hand naturally into yours when a familiar set of heads loiter by the valet stand. 

“What do you meaaaan he’s not here? Aren’t you supposed to be in charge of this very thing?” Satoru’s voice reverberates as he whines against the podium at the underpaid employee.

Suguru sighs and shakes his head with a shrug while Itadori scrolls on his phone frantically reading text messages “Maybe he’s at the spa?”

The white haired man instantly snaps up and gives the younger man a pat on the back way too hard before dragging the two of them back through the lobby. “Come on everyone! We’re his only hope if this is gonna work!!”

Itadori is effectively yanked back into the building while Suguru lets himself be guided by Satoru as the three disappear out of sight. You and Kento wait an extra moment before their voices no longer echo before tepidly climbing the stairs and looking around once for good measures. 

“Those idiots…” Kento grumbles, rubbing his face with a sturdy hand as he gently guides you to the elevators. “Oh, is it alright if I bring you to my suite…? I don’t mean to be so forward this soon but…” he dips down and tilts his lips to brush against your ear as the doors shut. “I’d just like to return the favor from earlier.”

You shiver and smile up at the man with a nod before letting him guide you to his hotel room… on the top floor…

Though the entire walk has a different feeling swirling in the back of your mind; specifically his attitude whenever Itadori comes into mention. You let it linger a bit more, walking into the suite and staring awestruck at how much larger his single room was compared to the one you, Maki, and Nobara were crammed into [without hotel knowledge of being over capacity].

The kitchenette area also had a sofa and television in the area before being cut with a partial wall for privacy of the king sized bed that laid on the other side. Large ceilings and warm lighting filled the room and you noticed the lack of suitcases– noting that Kento was the kind of man who fully unpacked into the drawers and closet when traveling. 

He lets you admire the suite for a few moments, an entertained smile on his lips, as he re-rolls up his sleeves and turns the kettle on for tea and coffee. From your position standing in his bedroom area, you can see into the ensuite bathroom at the soft plush robes hanging above the large jacuzzi style bathtub. His hotel room is bigger than your entire apartment at home. 

ON THE CORNER OF YOUR BED

“Is it to your liking?” he calls out, not hiding the teasing tone in his voice. 

You come out of the bathroom and laugh before calling out for him to join you; he shuts off the kettle and immediately walks over. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and his arms around the small of your waist, you tilt your chin upwards and press your lips against his. 

It’s slow and sweet at first, rocking against each other a few times before Kento is rubbing your hips bones with his thumbs and grinding another growing erection into your pelvis. Tongue slipping in, he brings a hand up to hold your chin steady as he explores your molars and refuses to break the connection until you’re clawing at him to be even closer. 

The kiss breaks with a string of light saliva that snaps when he attempts to push your thighs against the bed; you stop him and spin to guide him to sit on top of the comforter. Kento doesn’t complain though, he lets himself be swayed by your touch and sits on the corner of the mattress with his hands on your waist and impatiently tugging you closer and your dress upwards. 

Your hands steady his with a slight smirk on your lips. “Wait a moment–” he stops and looks up as you continue. “What was it that you mentioned earlier? Something about, ‘ever since I saw your picture’?”

Kento pauses and drags his dilated pupils away from your face to the corner of the room with a tense swallow. “I’m sure I’m misunderstanding you–”

“–And how tense you seem to act when Itadori is mentioned? I can always ask Nobara if there’s some sort of connection I’m missing here..”

You move to grab your phone but he immediately reaches out and stops you. “Wait.” 

He gnaws his bottom lip and looks up at you with pleading eyes before sighing and pressing his forehead to the area just below your breast with a guilty expression. 

“I may have seen you before, from Itadori’s social media… He was always on his phone during work when he first started a few months ago… so one time I looked over his shoulder to see what could be so important, when I noticed the most recent social media post pulled up happened to be Nobara’s profile image with you in it.”

… now that you think about it, there have been a few more rando empty accounts that started following you… 

He rests his cheek into you and pulls his head upright with more confidence for the confession. “Well, Suguru and Satoru soon found out that I was…uh interested in you, and have been trying to hatch some scheme to get me to talk to you…”

You blink and comb his silky hair a few times before cupping his face with a coy look. “Why didn’t you just ask Itadori to have Nobara introduce us if you thought I was cute?”

He huffs and pouts slightly. “Asking my subordinate for his permission to date his mutual friend is hardly professional.”

‘Date’ isn’t a term either of you have mentioned yet, but now that it’s out there, you don’t want it taken back. Nodding in understanding, you trace his cheekbones and jaw before pressing your thumb on his lips while his hands still grasp and knead the flesh on your thighs and waist. 

“And that photo– all my photos I have posted, what did you do with it?”

He pauses. Coughing slightly at the surprise and attempting to tilt his head down but being blocked by your hands. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what you mean–”

“Kento.” You take a hand from his jaw and trace down his buttons to the bulge in his slacks and press. “What did you do with that photo of me?”

He groans slightly and twitches before locking eye contact with dilated pupils so large the irises are nearly hidden. 

YOU COULD DO IT ON YOUR OWN

WHILE YOU'RE LOOKIN' AT ME

“I masturbated to it.”

“Show me.”

Slowly, without breaking his stare, he releases the fly of his slacks and shimmies them down to the floor before tugging the elastic of his boxer briefs down to his mid-thigh once more. You take a slight step to the side and tug his hand to your mouth and spit into his palm before guiding it back down to his throbbing erection. He presses a kiss to your lips and brings his saturated hand to pump his cock a few times.

He sets a steady rhythm and keeps his neck craned to look at you as he touches himself, groaning and panting as he takes in the real image and not one on a screen. You watch the erotic scene for a few moments before tilting down and planting a few open-mouthed kisses and bites along his neck and stepping away from bed. 

“Don’t stop.” You order when he briefly pauses in confusion, and Kento immediately returns his pace. 

Popping the buttons of his shirt, he lets you guide the material off him and to the floor, revealing a body sculpted from marble. Hefty pectoral muscles, soft but defined abs, and biceps that could probably lift a refrigerator are on display as he continues to pump himself. 

It’s a view you could stare at for a lifetime, but you snap out of it and slowly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulders. The strip tease is done while entirely maintaining eye contact; when the satin material drops to the floor and you’re left braless in your dripping lace panties, Kento audibly groans. 

“Fuck, baby… look even ngh– better than my imagination…”

You smile and snap the elastic band of your panties against your hip before sloooowly sliding it down one leg and then the other, showing your wet pretty pussy on full display. Kento’s hand speeds up, giving extra attention to his tip as you put on a slight show and pinch your own nipples and snake a hand down to rub a light circle to your clit. 

“Please…” He huffs out, slowing his pace. “Don’t wanna cum if it’s not in that tight cunt.”

Kento rises to his feet and scoops you into his arms before tossing you back on the bed and kicking his underwear off the rest of the way. Laying flat against the plush mattress, you shimmy up to the pillow while he quickly climbs to hover over you and presses hard kisses into your lips with hunger. 

His erection drips onto your navel pathetically as he grinds against you a few times; blonde pubes scratch your skin as he drags his cock up and down the mound of your pussy before lining up with your needy hole. 

“Promise to haa– treat her right later, ‘kay baby? I’ll give her plenty of kisses later, I just.. Need to be inside you”

He’s talking to you about your own pussy before spitting down on his dick and teasing your entrance with the head a few times before slowly stretching you wide and sliding in. 

Hands immediately digging into his shoulders, Kento waits a moment with peppered kisses along your temple as he gives a few shallow pumps to get you properly adjusted to the sheer girth. His knees splay your thighs a bit wider and one hand reaches to place a pillow below your hips before he sinks in steadily. 

“Oh fuck– Kento!”

“I know baby, I know… just a bit more for me okay?” He presses his hips further in until his cockhead is kissing your cervix and his pubes are kissing your clit as he bottoms out. The sting of the stretch turns delicious as gives a few gentle strokes before snapping his hips up and forward into you. 

Tits bouncing with each thrust, you hold onto him for dear life as he molds your pussy to the shape of his dick with each pump. Kento throws his head into the crook of your neck and nearly crushes you from the weight of his frame, but the close proximity creates perfect friction against your clit as his cock bullies against your cervix. 

“Nghh.. feels so good– like you were made f’me…”

You toss your head back into the pillow and give him access to mark up your neck while his hips don’t relent. “Ahhh d-don’t say things like t-that unless you mean it…”

He takes a stronger bite to the throb of your pulse and gives a harsher snap of his hips. “I do.. Fuck– of course I mean it… ‘been thinking about you longer than you know…” he sits upright on his knees and pins your hands to your navel and bullies your pussy even more. “Made me so mad to think that the wedding might be for you… before I even had the chance to make you mine…”

You’re borderline drunk on his cock already, and he fairs no better above you with irises practically in the shape of hearts. Large hands keep your own pinned down as the room is filled with the wet squelches coming from where your bodies meet and the plap! of his balls smacking the flesh of your ass. 

With the residual amount of coyness left, you bat your eyes up at him. “O-Oh yea? Nfgh– and what if I was getting married, huh?”

Kento furrows his brows and nearly snarls at the image of you with someone besides him– like the idea of another person getting to fuck your perfect pussy was blasphemy. 

He jerks his hips up to rut against your g-spot and groans as you clench around him. “It would be w-wrong but… fuck so tight– I’d still… still try and make a move…”

One of the hands that pins down your own snakes to the plush area below your navel, right above where his cock drills into you from the inside. He pushes down. “Haaaa… imagine if I could have you like this, b-but you were already engaged…? God, I'd at least wanna– wanna send you down the aisle knocked up with my kid.”

Your eyes practically roll back into your skull as he snakes that hand down further to rub circles on your swollen clit while his tip grinds against your g-spot over and over again. Toes circling and voice wavering into a high pitch, you screw your eyes shut and feel your orgasm slam into you. 

The sound between your bodies is nearly palpable from how wet you’ve become and Kento releases his upright position to hover back over you and increase his own pace. Mind going numb from the aftershocks, he pulls out partially to fuck his tip in and out at an erratic pace before slamming back in and twitching as he cums. 

Hot semen pours out with each weakened snap of his hips as he fills your pussy up with his seed and keeps your bodies connected even after he’s finished cumming. A cream ring around his shaft and smeared on his pubes, and semi-opaque cum dribbling from your cunt and onto the sheets, Kento winces as he pulls out his softening erection. 

You keep your gaze on the ceiling for a moment as you catch your breath and wipe the few drops of sweat that fell from Kento’s face onto your chest in the moment. His gaze lingers on the way his semen slowly begins to drip from your pussy with an indiscernible face, before he’s sitting upright and guiding you to rest against him.

“Ah, sorry. That was…. A bit much, maybe?” he sheepishly coughs out while rubbing a warm hand on your shoulder.

“No, it was really nice– you were amazing.”

He pauses at the compliment, but you simply offer a smile and plant a quick peck to his cheekbone while wondering what the move was now. 

He had mentioned something about dating earlier…. But does the post-nut clarity change anything..?

Before you can dwell on it too long, he rises from the bed and gives your hair a quick comb with his fingers and tilts his head for the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yea?”

The marble tilted floors are cold against your feet as Kento reaches over the tub to start the warm water; he helps you climb in and takes a spot next to you in the large jacuzzi as the jets slowly push bubbles around the surface. 

Each action is soft and sweet, as if he wasn’t just rearranging your guts and threatening to get you pregnant just moments ago. He passes the soap, rubs your shoulders, and lets you play with his hair when you offer to assist in applying shampoo. 

That is, until he guides you to sit in his lap because ‘it offers a better position for relaxing the muscles’, and when he drags his hands over your breasts because ‘it’s important to get them routinely checked’. 

Not that you mind it, the heat between your legs getting warmer as his hands work their way down further and his lips plant a variety of kisses and bites to the flesh on your shoulders. When his hands hover just above your cunt once more, and a new erection now growing behind you, he stops short as if it pained him to not continue.  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about this..”

Your heart drops for a moment– he’s a man richer than you can imagine and drives a car worth more than your annual salary… he’s probably got tons of women like this on the side. Mentally scolding yourself for thinking that he would actually want something more than a one night stand, Kento nudges your face to the side in order to get a better glimpse at your expression.

“Whatever is running through that mind of yours, please stop it.” He traces the curve of your jaw and taps your pulse point underneath. “I want to do this again, but– forgive my ‘old fashioned’ opinion– the right way.” 

He pauses a moment, nearly nervous. “On a date. I’d still like your company during this weekend if you’re not busy, but maybe when we return home I can take you to dinner sometime? It would be nice to actually go on a date if we’re going to be dating.”

…

He’s so painfully forward that it actually turns you on more. 

Blinking a few times and bashfully shrugging– as if you really had to think about it– you lean closer and smile up at him. 

“I’d like that. My only request…”

He sucks in a still breath, ready for you to put some sort of cap on the amount of times he can see you, or the amount of gifts he’d like to order to your house, or–

You laugh at his worry and guide his hand further to right above your clit. “Is that you pick me up in your sports car each time.”

NO, YOU AIN’T NO MRS.

OH, BUT YOU GOT A SPORTS CAR!

ok I DID NOT mean for this to be so long, i just think it's borderline impossible for me to write smut without a plotline idk why

sorry it's so dayum long, but hopefully you pookies liked it!

-> next post should hopefully be CKNF or a small headcanon

also im obsessed with this song currently and Kento fits sooo nicely... though I was also debating writing this for Higuruma instead!

lemme know what you think<33

likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated

ILY

-oatmeal

[sweetbans29]

Naked - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Caitlin has been a fan of yours for a long time. Has followed your music for years and has finally found herself at a small, intimate pop-up event. After seeing you in person, her one mission is to make sure it is just the first and that there will never be a last (based on THIS request).

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.7k

Sweetbans Masterlist

You have come to the foregone conclusion that love is just not in the cards for you. 

It is not for a lack of trying, that’s for sure. You have tried. And tried. And tried again. Time after time, you were left alone after some expectation wasn’t met or someone got too greedy and thought that their image would look better with you in it. 

You have come to the conclusion that maybe you were just too much. 

It is not like you were asking for a lot - just someone to do life with. Initially, you thought you could find someone who lived life out loud with you. Someone who would go to events with you and make them bearable. Someone who you could show off to the world and do the same with you but you learned fast, that wasn’t going to happen. 

Then it turned into finding someone who you could come home to. Someone who would be there with you after the day was done and love you in the mundane. That was almost worse due to the media being absolute vultures and spreading rumors that no one could fix. 

So after your last relationship, you have settled with the fact that the life you have chosen is going to be a lonely one. But the world would never know that because to them, your choice to stop looking for the one thing you really want was perceived as ‘strength’ and ‘independence’. 

It has been a few years now, and the media has created this image that you are now ‘little miss untouchable’. You hated it, but the media loved it. It showed you off as someone who doesn’t need a man or woman in their life to do what you are doing. 

After your last tour, your presence at events has halted, creating this hype around when you do attend any sort of function. Your manager wanted to build off the idea that you show up when and where you want - when there is an event that is worthy enough for your appearance. You thought it was a load of crap but it was a nice break from the world. 

It was all great until the loneliness started to creep in again and the desire to have someone started to illuminate. So much so you wrote a song about it - one that you didn’t plan on sharing with your manager or the world considering it laid your heart on display and that just wasn’t what the people wanted (according to your brand and manager, of course). 

The time came when you started to miss it - the performance. Not big stage performing but intimate, acoustic settings that drew in a different crowd. The ones that would genuinely listen to the music. So you decided to start doing small events under the radar. Just you and one of your oldest friends, who happened to be your guitarist - who you had threatened to keep what you were doing on the downlow. He had no problem with it - actually loved it. 

It started out really small - you taking the weekend to ‘get away’ and finding some small bar or speakeasy that did live music on a Saturday night. No heavy makeup or hair, a simple outfit and a drink in your hand and you were set. Singing songs you had in the archive for years, finally seeing the light of day. Some songs that you didn’t even share with your label because they didn’t fit in with the image they were trying to cast at the time.

As time went on, it had sort of created this alias for you. You set up a small side business of performing in the coolest places. You went by your middle name instead of your stage name and never performed in a place more than once. 

On some occasions, you would be recognized but even the people that did come up asking to take photos with you - they weren’t screaming in your face rather complimented what you were doing and were glad they got to see you in that type of environment. No cameras, just people enjoying good music. It had you falling in love with your fans again and helped breathe life into you after being on tour. It’s not that you didn’t love touring, but you also loved this. 

Before you knew it, you were getting inquiries about doing private events. At first, it didn’t seem much of an issue, but then people started to catch on and that is when the love for what you were doing dwindled. 

The decision was made to do one more event, then retire your little side show. Other media outlets were beginning to notice and your manager was not happy when he found out about your little side gigs. It turned into a two hour long lecture about how something could have happened or how it would have looked to be playing unreleased songs. You sat there and took it. 

The last event you had was for a birthday party - someone reached out about doing a private event and they made the cut right before your whole operation got shut down. So you and your guitarist flew out to a small town in Florida to do one last pop-up. 

Caitlin didn’t want anything big for her birthday - it has never been something that she made a big deal out of. Of course, she enjoys being celebrated but she always found that her expectations on others exceeded the reality of their plans. So it became a day where she would say it’s not a big deal and find small things throughout the day that would bring her joy, things that wouldn't disappoint. 

So when Lexie told her that they would be making a weekend trip to Florida, Cailtin tried everything in her power to be excited for it. It was going to be part of the team and some friends from Indy all in some beach house. Cait can do that, a chill weekend with a few friends. 

WHen they arrived, it was honestly the perfect little get away. THe house was right on the water, no neighbors, just them and the beach. It had a beautiful deck that was big enough for them all to lounge and enjoy the sun (even if it was in the 60’s, it was still warmer than Indiana this time of year). 

They get there on a Friday and spend the night having a bonfire and enjoying the quiet. Saturday was pretty much the same but Lexie said that she had to dress up for dinner. Caitlin followed orders and quickly learned that Lexie hired a private chef to come in and cook dinner for them. It was halfway through dinner when you began setting up. Nothing fancy, just two small amps. 

When Cailtin first saw you, she had to do a double take - you looked so familiar. It took her less than a minute to recognize you and her whole body went stiff. 

To say she was a fan was a complete understatement. She started listening to you for years now, attending your last tour and every one before that. Cait had no idea how Lexie got you here but she can remember this being a dream of hers when she was in college. The fantasy of her favorite artist (and celebrity crush) showing up to do a private show for only her is something Cait locked up in her mind because it was crazy. But there you were, sitting on a stool, humming along to something the guy with the guitar was playing. 

“CC, you good?” Lexie asks when Caitlin doesn’t move. 

“Do you know who that is?” Caitlin asks in a whisper, like if she said it too loudly you would vanish into thin air. 

“Oh, she does these small events, has started a little private pop-up business,” Lexie says. “One of my friends said she is great.” 

It is a little confusing to Cait when she hears you go by a different name but she is 100% sure it is you. 

Later in the evening, everyone is sitting out on the deck and you have started your set. 

A few people are in light conversation but Caitlin is watching you. She is curled up in a blanket, drink held between both of her hands in her lap as she takes in what might be the best birthday gift she has ever gotten. And the best part? No one knew. 

You start your set off with the same few songs - ones that no one knows but are nice on the ears. You add a few covers in the mix to make it more enjoyable for everyone, people like then they can sing along or have a familiar tune. This being your last little adventure, you decided to break out a song that was never meant to see the light of day. The one song that lays your heart out there and is the definition of vulnerable. 

If it wasn’t now, you don’t think it would ever get heard by an audience. And here, with one of the smallest crowds, with the moonlight reflecting off the ocean - it just feels right. 

“Thank you all so much for a wonderful evening,” you say, voice smooth as butter. “This is our last song for you.” When you say that, your eyes connect with a pair of brown ones who have been locked in on you since dinner. You give her a slight smile and nod as your guitarist begins. 

… Take away the big shirts, the tattoos, the sweatpants and Vans

Okay, I don't wear no makeup, no purse in my hands

My resting bitch face is mistaken for the mean girl

But what if I told you

There's nothing I want more in this world

Your eyes close as you come to the chorus. 

… Than somebody who loves me naked

Someone who never asks for love

But knows how to take it

Are you that somebody

Who sees a wall and breaks it?

Are you ready to fight just to see what's lost behind my flaws?

Caitlin sits there, taking in every word you are saying. She has been completely entranced in the songs you have been singing, the ones she has never heard before and wishes she could record and put on repeat. But this? This one is different. 

She has seen you live, has watched countless videos of you perform and she has learned that she loves you. Ya, celebrity crush, everyone has one. But hearing you sing this - watching you pour your heart out in this song, it has Caitlin falling in love with you. 

Can you love me naked?

… Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Naked

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Naked

Oh-oh-oh, yeah, yeah

… Might be a bitch in the mornin' so catch me at nighttime

Some of my friends think I'm moody, but I think I'm just fine

You let out a little chuckle with this line, unintentional but so very true. To those who truly knew you, you were an acquired taste. That is something the media didn’t see. 

I could be pissed, but I'll act like I'm not

I really remember when I say I forgot

No matter how hard I try

To run away from love at the end of the night

… I need somebody who loves me naked

Someone who never asks for love

But knows how to take it

Are you that somebody

Who sees a wall and breaks it?

Are you ready to fight just to see what's lost behind my flaws?

Yes, Caitlin’s one and only thought. Yes, she is ready. 

Can you love me naked?

… Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Naked

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Naked

You end the song and you have never felt so free in your life. There was something special about this moment and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it had you breathing deeper and seeing clearer. 

When you finally open your eyes, they are wet. You didn’t even notice when you started crying. A few blinks later, you think you are in the clear and give one last smile. The girl with the brown eyes is still intently staring at you, her eyebrows furrowed a little more than they were before. 

Light claps make their way around the group and you stand and begin tearing down your minimal set up. 

You feel someone’s presence over your shoulder. 

“Hi,” she says softly, almost childlike - lacking in confidence. 

“Hi,” you say back, a light smile on your face. 

“I know you,” she says and you politely nod. To know and be known by someone are two completely different things. 

You introduce yourself, offering a hand for her to shake. 

“Caitlin,” she says, taking your hand and shaking it for too long. It causes you to laugh. 

“I know who you are too,” you say, a smile never leaving your face. She looks surprised. “You have really taken over the sports world - didn’t really watch basketball until you came along,” you say. 

“I’ve been listening to you since your debut album,” Cailtin blurts out. 

“I guess we both appreciate each other's craft,” you say. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. 

You both try to speak at the same time. 

“Happy Birth-,” you say at the same time she says, “That last song.” 

You both laugh. 

As awkward as this moment should be, it’s not. 

“You first,” Caitlin says. 

“Happy birthday, Caitlin,” you say, just above a whisper as you stare into her eyes. To know and be known are two completely different things - yet in this moment, after meeting someone for the first time - you feel known. 

“Would it be weird if I told you that this, you singing a private show, just for me - has been a dream of mine since I was in high school?” She asks and you can see the red tint that creeps up her neck the second after she asks it. 

“And that last song,” she starts and you feel your heart stop. You rarely get nervous anymore but that last song exposed parts of you the world hasn’t seen. It was raw and it was you, only you. “That last song.” 

Caitlin doesn’t know how to say she wants to be the one to break down your walls and love you like you are the whole world. She wants to say she has never seen someone so willingly vulnerable before her that all she wants to do is wrap you up and never let you go, never let the world see the true love you have to offer because she wants it all to go to her. 

You finally break eye contact and look down. 

“Ya, probably not one you’ll hear again,” you say, trying to ground yourself.

“I never want to stop hearing it,” Caitlin whispers and takes the smallest step towards you. Your eyes snap up to her. 

“This might be forward, and I apologize if it’s too much but I want to know you,” Cait says, voice serious and low. “ I want to fight to know you because you are someone worth knowing.” 

You have waited so long to hear those words - granted, you thought they would come from someone who has known you for a little while, not the girl standing in front of you. 

You have dated a basketball player in the past - ya, it was for the NBA and it was much different but you swore off players after him. So why do you feel so comfortable in front of this athlete? 

All the words you want to say fall short as you look deep into Caitlin’s eyes. 

Her brown eyes hold yours and all you can see is a girl, admitting her feelings to another girl - no games, no intentions outside of truth and you cave. You cave because no one has looked at you like Caitlin is right now. 

“Caitlin,” you whisper and your eyes close. You have been hurt so many times that even in this genuine moment, your mind can’t help but go to the worst possible outcome. You are tired of getting hurt. But you don’t know Cait - ya you have seen her play but you don’t KNOW her so is it really fair to wave her off this fast? Your head is swirling when you feel her. 

It is not fast, at first it just feels like warmth. It isn’t until her thumb is caressing your cheek that you realize it's her hand on you, her skin on your skin that feels like an extension of you. 

“I am not asking for you to dive in right away, I don’t think either of us are ready for that,” she says. She’s ready though, she knows nothing in the world will ever compare to you. But she doesn’t want to scare you, Caitlin can be patient. “I am just saying, if you will let me, I am willing to fight to know you - the real you.” 

Caitlin is not letting you walk out of here without knowing this is only the first time with you. 

“Okay,” you say, eyes opening and looking into hers. 

5 months later

You are sitting courtside at the Fever home opener game. After a lot of back and forth between you and Caitlin, she finally convinced you to go and the second you walked into the arena you were glad you did. 

Your leg is crossed, Clark jersey on and you are ready for the action. 

Over the past 5 months, you and Caitlin got to know each other. It was a lot of back and forth considering you lived in LA and she lived in Indy but it was all worth it. You would spend a few days at hers and she would come out for a few days after different speaking engagements. It was surprisingly easy and it was exactly how she said it would be that night you met - it was slow. 

Are the two of you dating? No. But neither of you are dating anyone else. And it is very clear that Caitlin wants to date you when you are ready. 

Caitlin’s intentionality over the last few months has opened up a hope in you that has you feeling giddy. It feels like you have gone back to high school and have a school girl crush but it is with someone who has given you every reason to believe that a person can and will stay. Caitlin has stayed and she has no intention of leaving. 

You watch in awe as the game begins and Caitlin takes the floor. You can see the hunt in her eyes as she reads the floor and does what she loves. Watching her has something stir in you that makes you want to take her home. 

The Fever are up 5 going into the half. 

During half time, the cameras go around panning to different celebs that are in Gainbridge. It pans over to a few actors and other musicians, finally landing on you. 

The crowd cheers and you smile and give a wave.

Neither you or Caitlin have been posting explicitly about your time together, but if there happened to be people following both you and Caitlin they may or may not have seen some overlap to what you both were posting. 

The second half of the game, Caitlin goes off with 10 points in the 3rd and 12 points in the fourth - putting up a massive game. The Fever take the win and you want nothing more than to celebrate your favorite player. 

You wait on the floor as she does a post-game interview and says hello to a few people. You do the same and say hello to a few familiar faces. 

Once the crowds clear a little, you see Caitlin looking around - she finds you and smiles. Cait makes her way to you, stopping right in front of you. 

“Hi,” she says, grinning ear to ear. 

“Hi,” you say, your smile mirroring hers. “Great game.” 

“Ya mean it?” Caitlin says, teasing. 

“Well considering this is my first game, it was pretty great,” you retort. “Although it might be hard to top the next time I come out.” 

“Ahh are you a fan now?” Caitlin asks. 

“Always been a fan,” you can’t stop smiling. 

You can feel the cameras snapping as you are talking with Cait. 

“Shall we get a photo? For the people, of course,” you ask. Selfishly, you want it for your own collection. You have created an album in your phone of all your favorite moments of CC, it has secretly become your most prized possession. 

“What about for me?” Caitlin asks and you give her shoulder a little, positioning yourself for the photo. Your arm goes around her waist as hers comes to wrap around your shoulder. You lean in slightly and bring your head in, tilting it towards her. Cameras snap and you find yourself gripping her jersey. 

Once you feel like you have given the media what they want you turn to Caitlin, bringing her close to you. 

“So you mentioned a date the other night, still want to take me out?” You whisper in her ear. 

She pulls back, looking in your eyes the way she only does. 

“Ya?” She asks, breath taken from her. 

You nod. 

“So what, all it took was watching me play one game?” She asks, teasing you. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Okay, not too much now,” you say and she laughs. 

“Let me shower and then I’ll be ready,” she says and your eyes widen a little. 

“Tonight?” You ask, not meaning tonight. 

“I am not waiting any longer than I have to,” Caitlin says, all teasing aside. 

You smile because you know how much this means. Caitlin knows how much this means. 

It wasn’t easy, opening up again. But Caitlin has done everything to show you that she isn’t going anywhere. It isn’t about the media, it isn’t about the fame. It is about you and her and the time you spend together. It is about learning the depths of one another. 

It’s about love.

AN: Finally, a pop-star reader. A little different but this is the one vision I had. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[fellominaarcher]

PILLOWTALK - idol!Karina x idol + g!p femreader

⤷ Fic type: oneshot

⤷ Content warning: alcohol, smut, 18+ only, sex, penis + vagina with protection, oral sex (both receiving) and basically smut with a plot. This will be LOOONG.

⤷ Author's note: based on a real event I attended.

SM Entertainment had finally granted aespa a much-needed two-month break, a rare miracle in the idol world. No rehearsals, no packed schedules, no chaotic airport runs or 4AM music show pre-record. Just... freedom.

Well, freedom and a bit of boredom.

For Karina, more humbly known as Jimin, this sudden dose of free time was starting to feel like a curse. There were only so many shows to binge, and she’d already cleaned her closet twice.

That’s when Giselle—Aeri waltzed into her room like a pink-haired hurricane.

“You have to come with me to this thing,” Aeri said, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s a function. Not like an awards show or a party. It’s... different.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, lounging on her bed in sweats. “Define different.”

“It’s called Blind One Night Stand.”

Jimin blinked.

“I know how it sounds,” Aeri added quickly, holding up both hands. “But hear me out. It’s like a blind date but for idols only. No cameras. No managers. Just... one night. One person. No strings.”

It sounded ridiculous. Risky. Chaotic.

“But genius,” Aeri added with a wink. “A third-gen senior is behind it. Trust me, it’s legit.” The rapper assured the leader.

Still, she wasn't easily sold.

Jimin folded her arms. “You want me to go have sex with a stranger?” Her right eyebrow was raised high and she gave Aeri a questioning look.

“I’m going to have sex with a stranger,” Aeri corrected, grinning. “You’re going to come as my emotional support... and also maybe have sex with a stranger.” The Japanese girl added with a smug smile.

Jimin opened her mouth to argue but Aeri had already handed her a phone and pointed to a Telegram contact.

“It’s all anonymous,” she said. “You just send them your name, group, and gender preference. That’s it.” It was an easy and a simple step for such an event.

Jimin frowned. The thought of some faceless idol trying to hit on her and touch her body? It gave her mixed feelings—curiosity and anxiety.

After a long pause and one very judgmental look at her ceiling, Jimin gave in.

Karina. Aespa. Doesn’t matter. She typed and hit send.

And just like that, the wheels were in motion.

──────────────────────

The night arrived faster than expected.

The venue: a luxury hotel in Seoul, glimmering under neon lights. One of those discreet places with soundproof walls, a private lounge, and a bar stocked with designer liquor.

Jimin sat perched on a velvet barstool, a half-finished cocktail in one hand, her phone in the other. Her long black hair was let flowing free to perfection, her body wrapped in something black that clung to her in all the right places but still, she wasn’t feeling it.

The music pulsed low and steady in the background, giving her thoughts something to dance around.

Familiar faces were scattered around, some idols she recognized immediately, others she only vaguely remembered. There were more people here than she expected. A few faces she wasn’t sure she should’ve seen in this kind of setting. But nobody was acting out.

She could’ve left. She was this close to standing up and ghosting the whole thing.

Then Aeri returned.

The Japanese girl practically floated over, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. “Jimin! I’m going to my room! They said my partner’s already waiting!” she sang, flashing a hotel key card in front of her friend’s face.

Jimin blinked slowly. “Wow. That fast?” Half-amused by the whole thing.

“Mmhmm,” Aeri hummed proudly. “Catch me glowing tomorrow morning.” Her voice was almost a whisper as if it was a secret.

Jimin scoffed, a brow up. “Catch something else while you’re at it.” Giving her friend a playful dirty look.

“Relax, Yoo Jimin. I brought a whole damn pharmacy,” Aeri winked, twirling the key card between her fingers. “I’ll be hydrated, protected, and possibly sore.”

Jimin groaned. “TMI, Aeri.” As she glared at Aeri and she had her arms crossed.

“Don’t wait too long or someone hotter might steal your mystery person,” Aeri teased as she sauntered off toward the elevators.

“Don’t forget your condom, Aeri!” Jimin called after her, voice loud at first then fading mid-sentence.

She sighed, finishing the rest of her cocktail before reaching for the whiskey that had been prepped on the side. Her reflection in the glass glinted back at her—cool, composed, and slightly tipsy.

Then her phone pinged.

Anonymous: Your partner is waiting for you in the room. Go to the main counter, say your name, and get your key card.

Jimin blinked at the message. Her heart skipped once. Twice. She reacted with a single emoji: Okay.

She tapped her nails on the wood of the bar, contemplating. She could still leave. Blame a stomach ache. Say her driver was waiting.

But instead... she stood.

When else am I going to do this if not now? she reasoned. It’s our break. No one’s watching.

She adjusted her outfit, slung her small handbag over her shoulder, and made her way to the front desk. The receptionist was unbothered and clearly used to this, handed her a single keycard after a short exchange.

Room 1104.

She stared at the number for a second. Of course, she thought. That’s her birthday—April 11th. A weird little coincidence.

Her fingers curled around the keycard. No turning back now.

──────────────────────

The elevator ride was silent. Too silent.

Jimin leaned against the mirrored wall, watching the numbers climb. Floor 9. Floor 10. Floor 11.

Ding.

The doors opened and the hallway stretched before her, warmly lit and eerily quiet. Room 1104 was just around the corner.

Each step she took echoed softly, her heels clicking against the carpeted floor.

She stopped in front of the door. Her hand hovered over the handle. Then she slid the card into the slot.

Green light. Click.

The door opened.

Jimin took a deep breath as her fingers wrapped around the door handle of Room 1104. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, louder than she’d like to admit. Everything about this situation was surreal. A blind hookup event just for idols? It sounded insane when Aeri first brought it up, and even more so now that she was actually stepping into a hotel room for it.

Who the hell am I about to see?

“This better be worth it,” she muttered under her breath.

The door clicked open, revealing the soft glow of ambient light and the silhouette of a figure standing by the large window that overlooked Seoul’s glittering skyline.

And then Y/N turned around.

The sight knocked the air right out of Jimin’s lungs.

Y/N. From Celestial. All black outfit. Sleeves rolled, shirt was well pressed, dark hair tucked behind one ear, with her piercing gaze cutting right through Jimin's soul. She was gorgeous on TV. She was divine in person.

“Holy shit,” Jimin whispered before she could stop herself.

Y/N blinked in mild surprise and slowly smirked, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I won’t even guess. You’re literally Karina,” she said smoothly. “Didn’t think you’d show up to something like this.”

Jimin swallowed and tried to snap out of her daze. “Yeah�� yeah, I didn’t think I would either.” She scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “Peer pressure.” And the awkward laugh that came out of her mouth afterwards.

Jimin froze for a split second. She blinked, taking a few stunned breaths as her eyes subtly scanned the other woman. Her face, her lips, her scent—fuck. She was even more beautiful up close. She looked like a living, breathing fantasy.

“Giselle was the reason I came,” Jimin admitted, her tone dry. “She basically dragged me into this. I’m pretty sure she’s already... getting busy somewhere in this hotel.” Her voice faded mentioning Giselle 'having fun' at this moment.

Y/N laughed softly, looking down at the carpet for a second before lifting her head again. Her smile was warm but teasing, eyes dancing with mischief. “I hope she stretches first.” Y/N added, as a joke.

She made her way deeper into the room, carefully placing her handbag on the side table. Her skin was warm already—some combination of nerves and alcohol. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she finally met Y/N’s eyes again.

Jimin chuckled and gave a slow nod. “I warned her to bring a condom.” Her eyes were quick to glance at Y/N every time she gets the chance to.

That earned another laugh from Y/N, who casually stepped toward the minibar and pulled out two glasses. “Well, happy accidents, I guess,” she said, pouring the whiskey like it was second nature. “You ended up with me.” Y/N casually shrugged.

“And you?” Jimin asked, arching a brow as she accepted the glass. “What made you come here tonight?”

“It’s my birthday,” Y/N said, clinking her glass against Jimin’s. “My member, Jiyoon, sent me here as a ‘gift.’ Thought I needed a little… chaos in my life.” Y/N rolled her eyes though there's a small smile on her lips.

Jimin raised her glass. “Then happy birthday.”

They both sipped. The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was charged, curious, thick with unspoken thoughts.

The taller woman exhaled. “I figured we should take it slow,” Y/N said casually, nodding toward the sofa. “It’d be weird to just walk in and start taking our clothes off, right? I'd actually like to talk to you first. Doesn’t matter if we end up in bed or not.” that signature smile of hers.

Jimin blinked. That was unexpected. And kind of… hot?

That surprised Jimin. In a good way. The soft assurance in Y/N’s tone, the calm confidence, it made Jimin feel strangely safe. And even more curious. She took a seat beside her, legs crossing slowly, eyes locked.

God, she smells good.

The warmth of the whiskey was already trickling through her system, mixing with the buzz from earlier drinks. It only made Y/N more captivating. The golden glow of the lamp lit the side of Y/N’s face like a scene from a movie. Her voice. Her presence. The way she casually leaned into the conversation.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Taking a deep breath, “Oh yeah,” Y/N said, shifting slightly to face her. “What do I call you tonight? Karina? Or… Jimin?” Y/N tilted her head as she asked the question.

Jimin's heart fluttered at the question. She let the corner of her lips lift slowly before replying. “Karina isn’t here tonight, just Jimin. Call me Jimin, Y/N.” she said, her voice lower now, more intimate.

The name you’ll moan tonight.

Wait! WHAT?! Who said that?!

Jimin choked slightly on her whiskey, caught off guard by her own inner monologue. She coughed into her sleeve, cheeks burning, embarrassed by the sudden betrayal of her own mind.

Y/N blinked, surprised, but immediately leaned forward. “Are you okay?” she asked, eyes laced with a hint of concern and amusement.

Jimin nodded quickly, trying to salvage her dignity. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just went down the wrong pipe.” Jimin cleared her throat and straightened up in her seat.

She was about to spiral into full embarrassment mode, but Y/N tilted her head and chuckled. “You’re kinda cute when you’re flustered.” A brief eye contact from Y/N was made.

Jimin felt her body react instantly. A pull in her chest. A spark between her legs. Everything about this moment screamed invitation.

“Tell me something,” Y/N began, twirling her drink between her fingers. “Is this the first time you’ve done anything like this?”

Jimin bit her bottom lip before answering, “Yeah. First time I’ve even considered it. But I figured if I’m gonna make a reckless decision, I might as well make it during our break. No schedules. No cameras. No staff.” Attending a blind one night stand was already a crazy idea.

“Exactly,” Y/N agreed, setting her glass on the table. “We’re just two people tonight. Not idols.” Y/N told the Aespa leader.

That struck something in Jimin’s chest. No pretense. No pressure. Just… her.

Jimin leaned forward slightly, closing some of the distance between them. “So if we’re not idols right now… who are we?” Her voice was low and filled with a hint of intimacy.

Y/N’s eyes flicked down to Jimin’s lips, then back up again. She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she tilted her head and whispered, “Come here and find out.” Her heart was racing a little because the woman seated next to her was just so beautiful.

That was all the invitation Jimin needed.

Her glass was set down in a flash, and the next moment, their mouths crashed together—hot, slow, and loaded with the kind of tension that had been simmering since the door opened. Jimin climbed into Y/N’s lap like she’d done it a hundred times before, her hands in Y/N’s hair, Y/N’s fingers clutching at her waist like she never wanted her to leave.

Their tongues met—wet, hungry, and perfectly in sync. The first kiss was nothing short of sinful. Jimin had kissed before, sure, but this? This was indulgence. This was drowning. Y/N tasted like warm whiskey and something darker, deeper like something Jimin never wanted to stop savoring.

Their bodies were pressed flush on the couch, tangled up, heat building under their skin like fire about to catch. Jimin’s thighs were parted over Y/N’s lap, her hips already rocking without thinking, chasing friction. The dim hotel lighting bathed them in golden softness, shadows dancing over their features and fluttering lashes.

Y/N’s strong arms locked around Jimin’s waist like a vice, pulling her in with a desperate sort of greed, as if to say don’t fucking leave me tonight. And Jimin had no intention to.

Holding her like she was something precious, and that made Jimin’s heart stutter. But that didn’t stop the way lust clawed up her spine, demanding more.

When Y/N finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and glossy with spit, a strand of it still connecting their mouths. Her eyes were dark and half-lidded, flicking down to Jimin’s mouth and back again.

But instead of diving back in, Jimin smiled and cupped Y/N’s jaw, brushing her thumb across her cheek. She kissed her again, this time slower. Sweet, even. Like she wanted to memorize the shape of her lips.

Her hands explored without hesitation, fingertips skimming down the back of Y/N’s neck, over the slope of her shoulders, and finally landing at the buttons of her black shirt. She popped them open one by one, teasing, brushing her fingers over skin with a softness that made Y/N shiver.

At the same time, Y/N’s hands found Jimin’s ass, squeezing it firmly, possessively, and sliding down to the back of her thighs. A soft gasp slipped past Jimin’s lips and her grip on Y/N’s shirt tightened.

Jimin pulled away with a laugh against Y/N’s mouth. “Take me to the bed, silly,” she whispered, playful, breathless.

Y/N smirked, pressing one more kiss to her lips before lifting her up bridal-style with a grunt that made Jimin’s stomach flip. “As you wish, my birthday gift,” Y/N teased back.

Y/N grinned and kissed her again, quick and rough, before she stood up and without hesitation she scooped Jimin into her arms. Jimin laughed, her head resting against Y/N’s shoulder, hands curled around her neck as they made their way to the bed.

Y/N laid her gently on the bed, the pristine white sheets crinkling beneath her. Jimin’s dark hair fanned around her head like a halo as Y/N stood close, helping her remove her heels. They dropped to the floor with a dull thud, and Jimin reached out, tugging Y/N closer by her waistband.

"Happy birthday." She murmured teasingly, her kissable lips were a few centimeters away from Y/N's.

There was no rush, but also no patience.

Fingers worked fast, desperate. Buttons were undone, zippers pulled. Their laughter occasionally broke through the silence was nervous and playful but was quickly drowned out by the heat building between them.

Clothes were removed in a blur of clumsy hands and stolen kisses. Buttons popped. Fabric slid. Jimin’s black cloth ended up somewhere near the lamp, her bra tossed aside. Y/N’s shirt and pants were peeled away with urgency, leaving her in nothing but her boxer, already tented, already needy.

The taller woman knelt on the bed, slotting herself between Jimin’s thighs, then kissed her again, harder this time. The kind of kiss that stole your air. That said, you’re mine tonight. She kissed her way down, lips skimming Jimin’s jaw, down her neck, across her collarbones.

She kissed her way down Jimin's flesh, sucking gently until the skin turned a pretty shade of purple. Her mouth kept moving down, down to Jimin’s chest.

She licked a slow stripe across one nipple, and Jimin’s head tilted back with a groan. When Y/N finally took the nipple into her mouth and started to suck, slowly at first, then harder, Jimin whimpered and arched into the sensation.

“Fuck,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut.

Her own hand was already between her legs, fingers pressed firmly against her clit, rubbing slow circles as her other hand tangled in Y/N’s hair, keeping her close. “God, I can't wait anymore, Y/N.” The noises between them were wet, needy, breathless only made it worse, or better.

Her lips ghosted across her stomach, her hips, the inside of her thighs, making Jimin squirm.

And then finally, Y/N’s mouth was on her pussy.

The first lick was slow, deliberate, just to make her feel it. Y/N flattened her tongue and dragged it through her soaked folds, humming like she was tasting the best thing she’d ever had.

Jimin cried out, hand flying to the back of Y/N’s head, gripping her hair. “Holy shit, fuck!” she gasped, legs already shaking.

Y/N didn’t rush. She licked and sucked, alternating between soft teasing licks and hard flicks over her clit. Then she slipped two fingers inside, curling just right while her mouth kept working.

Jimin’s fingers threaded through the sheets, her other hand clutching her own breast, mouth open with breathless, fucked-out noises escaping every second.

“God, Y/N! Fuck, don’t stop,” Jimin cried out, voice breaking on the edge of a moan.

She gasped and cursed, her voice hoarse from the moans, and Y/N didn’t stop until Jimin begged her to.

And then… they switched.

Jimin pushed Y/N down on the bed. “You really thought you weren’t getting anything tonight?” she murmured, a small smile on her face.

“Is this my birthday gift?” Y/N teased back with a similar expression on her face and her impatience was about to break.

Y/N blinked, her smugness quickly melting into surprise as Jimin kissed down her chest, nipping at her skin with newfound hunger. Jimin’s lips left a trail of wet kisses along her abs, and then lower. Past her hip bones, down her thighs, all while holding her birthday girl’s gaze.

“You lay back,” Jimin whispered. “And let me treat you well." She continued, her voice was soft.

Y/N’s cock twitched—still hard, aching now and she needed Jimin so bad to ease the ache. Then she licked her lips. And dove in.

She started at the base, warm tongue dragging upward with zero hurry. She kissed it, sweetly at first, teasing, almost too gentle then wrapped her lips around the tip and sucked hard.

Y/N’s hips bucked instantly, a shaky sigh escaping her throat. “Fuck, Jimin—” she clenched her fists and her eyes were half-lidded.

“Mhm?” Jimin hummed, hollowing her cheeks as she sank lower, inch by inch, her tongue swirling around her shaft. She moaned deliberately around it, letting the vibrations hit in all the right places.

Her hands were firm on Y/N’s hips, keeping her in place while her mouth worked magic—deep, slow bobs of her head, saliva spilling down her chin, a filthy contrast to how fucking gorgeous she looked between Y/N’s thighs.

Y/N's head fell back against the pillow, her hand tangling in Jimin’s hair. “God, you look so fucking good like this,” she gritted out.

Jimin pulled off with a wet pop, eyes shining. “I agree. It’s your birthday... ‘course I’m gonna suck you good.” And then she dove back down, faster now, hungrier, letting the messy, obscene sounds fill the room. Her spit coated Y/N’s cock, dribbling down onto her hand as she jerked the base in time with every deep stroke of her mouth.

Once again, Jimin pulled off from Y/N's cock and she crawled back up to give her a messy open mouthed kiss, Y/N immediately wrapped an arm around Jimin's lower back and pull her in closer.

They broke the kiss to catch some breath and their eyes met as Y/N detached herself from Jimin and she reached into the nightstand for a foil packet. “I’m not stupid,” she whispered. “Wasn’t gonna raw dog Karina of aespa without wrapping it up.” She joked.

Jimin laughed and her cheeks flushed. “You're such an asshole.” the Aespa leader teased back.

“Only sometimes,” Y/N teased as she rolled on the condom, pumping herself slowly as she knelt between Jimin’s legs. “Other times, I’m very… generous.”

Y/N lined herself up, rubbing the head against Jimin’s soaked folds, groaning at how wet she was. “Fuck,” you’re ready for me, huh?” she whispered.

“Y/N, please,” Jimin whimpered, her legs wrapping around her waist.

And then Y/N pushed in.

Slowly, carefully, watching every twitch of Jimin’s brow, every gasp, every desperate clutch of her fingers in the sheets. Inch by inch, she sank in, until she was buried to the hilt, and Jimin let out a long, broken moan.

Y/N didn’t start moving right away. She kissed Jimin’s jaw, whispered, “You feel so good around me,” before finally pulling back and thrusting in slow, deep strokes that made Jimin’s toes curl.

Their rhythm built gradually, slow and sensual at first, but soon rougher, more desperate. Jimin’s back arched off the mattress, her nails scratching down Y/N’s back. Her moans filled the room, every thrust making her gasp, whimper, beg.

Y/N didn’t start moving right away. She kissed Jimin’s jaw, whispered, “You feel so good around me,” before finally pulling back and thrusting in slow, deep strokes that made Jimin’s toes curl.

The bed began to rock, soft creaks beneath them as Y/N set a rhythm that's deep, slow strokes that made Jimin gasp with every thrust. Their foreheads touched, their eyes locked, breath mingling in the tight space between them.

Y/N kissed her again. It was messy, passionate, tongue sliding into her mouth while her hips rolled in smooth, deliberate motions.

“Look at you,” Y/N murmured against her lips, “taking me so well.” A shaky sigh escaped her lips.

Jimin moaned, her head falling back, exposing her throat. Y/N took the opportunity to lick and bite at her neck, then down to her chest.

She sucked a nipple into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue as she kept thrusting. The sensation made Jimin shiver, her legs tightening around Y/N’s waist.

Jimin’s hands slipped down to her own clit, rubbing circles to match Y/N’s strokes. “Don’t stop,” she gasped. “You feel so good, fuck!”

Y/N sat up slightly, hands grabbing under Jimin’s knees and pushing her legs up to her chest, folding her in deeper. The new angle made Jimin scream.

“Y/N! Fuck...” Her moan was loud. It was breathy. Jimin was going to fall apart.

Y/N watched her, eyes hooded, hips snapping faster now. The way Jimin’s body jolted with every thrust, how her tits bounced, the flushed look on her face. It was pure fucking art.

But Y/N wanted more. She wanted to see her fall apart. And she think deserved it because it's her birthday.

Without warning, she pulled out and flipped Jimin onto her stomach.

“What are you...” Jimin barely got the words out before Y/N had her hips lifted, her ass up, her face pressed into the sheets.

She slid back in with one hard thrust, and Jimin screamed into the mattress. “Oh my God,” she choked.

Y/N grabbed her waist with both hands, slamming into her with hard, wet strokes, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room. Her hips smacked against Jimin’s ass over and over, the slick sounds of their bodies filling the space.

Jimin was a mess. Moaning, gasping, drooling onto the pillow. Her hands clutched the sheets like her life depended on it.

Jimin was panting, fingers digging into the sheets, each thrust pushing her deeper into the mattress. “Fuck, you feel so good,” she whimpered.

“Yeah?” Y/N leaned over, grabbing her hair and tugging her head back slightly. “You like being fucked like this?” she questioned and to be fair, Y/N was losing herself in pleasure too.

Jimin nodded frantically. “Yes. Yes. Don’t stop.” every hit from Y/N was making her moan loudly.

Y/N’s pace picked up, the sound of her hips smacking into Jimin’s ass getting louder, faster. Sweat dripped down her back, and Jimin’s thighs trembled.

That was all it took.

Jimin shattered as her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, thighs shaking, loud moans spilling from her lips, her body clenching hard around Y/N. She was so sensitive.

Y/N kept fucking her through it, riding out every spasm, every tremble, until she was spent and breathless.

Not long after that Y/N spilled white into the rubber and only then, Y/N pulled out, unwrapped the condom and tossed it away before flipping Jimin onto her back. She hovered above her, eyes soft now, lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was somehow both filthy and sweet.

Out of breath, Y/N collapsed besides Jimin and they laid there in silence for a moment, the only sound their panting breaths and the distant hum of the city.

Then Jimin turned her head lazily toward Y/N, cheeks flushed, hair messy, lips swollen. “That was…” she breathed.

“You felt so fucking good,” Y/N told Jimin and there's a small yet noticeable smirk on her lips.

Jimin smiled and reached for her, curling into her chest. “I don't regret this.” she murmured and she pressed a soft peck on Y/N's skin.

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The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the muted heartbeat between two people who’d just shared something intense, and unforgettable.

Y/N and Jimin sat side by side on the bed, half-dressed and freshly washed up, their backs resting against the headboard. The sheets were a mess around them, skin still warm, flushed from everything they'd done and yet, they talked like they'd known each other for years.

Like this wasn't their first time meeting, like this wasn't a one-night-only kind of thing.

Maybe it was the chemistry. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

Neither of them regretted it. Not even for a second.

“Giselle’s idea wasn’t half bad,” Y/N said with a crooked smile, one hand absentmindedly tracing circles on Jimin’s bare thigh. “Remind me to thank her," Y/N spoke and her eyes were never leaving the aespa's leader face.

Jimin chuckled softly, leaning into the touch. “I'll tell her just that, Y/N.” she responded as she nodded her head.

Light touches lingered between them. Fingertips brushing against forearms, soft grazes over collarbones. They talked in low voices about schedules, comeback concepts, stage outfits they hated, and how award show rehearsals were secretly torture.

It felt so domestic, so easy.

Then, Jimin’s phone buzzed.

She glanced down and read the text, a tiny laugh escaping her lips.

Aeri's text contained: waiting for you in the car, I'm glowing I think •~•

Jimin sighed and set her phone aside, her expression softening. She turned toward Y/N, eyes shining with something tender and unreadable. “Unfortunately,” she murmured, “our night has to end here.” the tone in Jimin's voice was affectionate and her voice was low as it is deep.

Y/N raised a brow. “Already?” Her voice held just a hint of teasing, like she didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

Jimin crawled over, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek before cupping her jaw in both hands. “Aeri’s waiting for me,” she said with a pout, her thumbs brushing softly across Y/N’s skin. “You were great tonight… Happy birthday, Y/N.” her voice was low, almost reverent.

Jimin pulled away and stood, gathering her things one by one. She dressed slowly, fixing her hair in the mirror, stretching her arms overhead with a quiet wince.

Her knees were wobbly. Thanks to someone.

Y/N swung her legs off the bed and began getting dressed as well, her eyes tracking every move Jimin made like she didn’t want to forget the sight.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” Y/N said while buttoning her pants, her voice relaxed but genuine.

Jimin smirked. “Mm, yeah. I’ll see you when I see you,” she echoed, looking over her shoulder with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Music Bank, Mnet, an award show… or maybe our groups should get together for some pork belly grilling. Something chill.” she suggested, her smile was mischievous but her intention was pure.

Y/N folded her arms, nodding her head. “I’m holding you to that.” she really couldn't tear her eyes off Jimin.

Jimin walked back over and patted her shoulder gently. “Bye-bye, Y/N. Until then… take care, okay?” her eyes bored into Y/N's.

And with a final smile, she spun on her heel and walked out of Room 1104, heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Y/N let out a slow breath, staring at the space Jimin had just left.

And Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see that smirk again—onstage, at the backstage, maybe over pork belly and soju.

One thing was for sure.

She’d never forget the girl from Room 1104.

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main m.list | æspa m.list

[bullet-prooflove]

Elderberry Wine: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @anna-bailey @ofsoapsuds @queenslandlover-93 @gemofspace

Summary: You come home to find John waiting for you.

Companion piece to:

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

Diamonds - John's friend and rival makes you an offer you can't refuse.

The Stethoscope - John's world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.

John’s waiting for you when you get home. He’s sitting on the floor outside your apartment with his back propped up against the door and a medical textbook in his lap. Beside him is a brown paper bag of groceries, you can see the egg carton and fresh peppers sticking out of the top as he raises to greet you.

“I went to my mom’s.” You say by way of explanation as you stride towards him. “She insisted on reading my tarot cards, thought they might give me a little clarity.”

Your mom has always been a little different, new agey before it was cool. She’s been the proud proprietor of the first feminist bookshop in Chicago since the late 70s and a staunch promoter of women’s rights. There’s a photo in her shop of you barely three months old cradled against her chest in a sling on the front line of a Chicago Women's Liberation march.

“Her first one.” She had said fondly as she’d read John’s cards on a shop counter pasted with Mod Podge and news clippings of her exploits. “But not her last.”

That’s the first taste you’d given him of your world, his first glimpse into the history that made up Crys Majors.

“What did they say?” He asks, his hand squeezing your hip as he tilts his head down to look at you. Your skin is a little flush, your eyes bright. Your hair falls loose around your features in soft waves, the same way it always does when you pull out your hair tie in the aftermath of a shift.

“I have no idea.” You tell him, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Everything’s a little hazy after that second glass of wine.”

That’s the other thing about your mom. The elderberry wine she makes is so strong that that first time he’d been introduced to it he’d woken up face down in a beanbag in the children’s section surrounded by Jenga pieces. You still have the picture she took with her polaroid camera pinned to your fridge with a St Bart’s fridge magnet.

It makes sense that that’s why you’re smiling right now, despite having the shittiest day on this earth. Quality time spent with your mom and half a bottle of elderberry wine it’ll cure most the world’s ills, at least until morning.  

“Have you eaten?” He asks, his fingertips tucking an errant strand of hair back behind your ear.

You shake your head. “My mom offered but…”

“Yeah, she’s terrible.” He chuckles knowingly.

To be fair that’s not your mom’s fault. The woman is vegan so every meal she makes is bean or tofu based because it’s slim pickings in 90s Chicago. He’d almost spat out the coffee she’d made him when she was trying to sober him up because it was laced with rice milk. You’d found the whole thing terribly amusing.

“How about I whip you up something?” He says, his arms wrapping around you, drawing you close into the shelter of his firm body. “I know how much you like my omelettes. I could run you a bath, cook for you…”

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You say softly, your fingertips trailing along the lapels of his coat. Despite your words, your body language indicates something different. He can sense your need for reassurance, your desire for proximity amidst the storm that is your life. “Right now the elderberry wine is kinda numbing everything and I know it’s going to be a busy day for you tomorrow.”

It would have been a busy day for you too, he thinks as you toy with the buttons of his coat. You would have scrubbed in on the same surgery he’s observing, asked pointed questions, you would have rocked the whole damn thing.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” He asks, his mouth brushing over your temple as he cradles you against him. You sway together gently, it’s something you find soothing, he’s discovered, the light rocking of his form against yours.

“I don’t really have much to say.” You whisper, your cheek settling on his shoulder. “Mark’s clearly told you the whole story and my mom’s making a voodoo doll of the asshole. My guess is he’s gonna be experiencing some sharp pains in his dick during the next two to three hours.”

He laughs into your hair, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck as his thumb traces soothing circles over that tender little spot just behind your ear.

“John.” You whisper, your voice cracking as you bury your face into his chest. “You’re still gonna love me if I’m not a doctor right?”

“Oh Crys.” He murmurs, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I’m gonna love you no matter what happens, you can count on that.”

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[eu-nicola]

attraction part 1

summary: after your mother's death you marry Ward Cameron to have economic stability and you meet his son who hangs around you

warnings: for now just age-gap

word counter: 4713

author’s note: english is not my first language, ofc i’m based on one of my favorite novels

The sky was gray, covered with thick clouds that seemed to cry with you. The rain fell softly, soaking the dark grass of the cemetery and mixing with the tears running down your cheeks. You felt empty, torn apart by grief, holding onto the last image of your mother before the coffin was lowered into the ground.  

The priest’s words faded into the dull sound of the rain, into the murmurs of the few people who had come to say their goodbyes. People who claimed to have loved your mother but weren’t there in her final moments. Hypocrites, all of them. Except you.  

You stayed there, even when the others started leaving. Your fingers were freezing, your legs trembling, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to accept that you were truly alone.  

"I’m really sorry for your loss."  

The male voice reached you gently, like he was afraid his presence alone might break you. When you looked up, you saw a middle-aged man in a dark coat. His expression was solemn, and in his light eyes, there was something more than just politeness—there was sadness, maybe even nostalgia.  

"Thanks," you murmured, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, even though you knew the tears wouldn’t stop anytime soon.  

The man nodded gravely, looking at the grave with the same sadness you did.  

"Who were you?" you asked, your voice broken but firm.  

He took a moment to answer, like he was searching for the right words.  

"A friend from your mother’s teenage years," he finally said. "We met a long time ago. She… was an incredible woman."  

A friend. Why had your mother never mentioned him? Why was he here now, offering condolences, when you’d never seen him before in your life?  

"I guess she was," you replied, not even trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.  

The man didn’t seem offended. Instead, he looked at you with a kind of sympathy that made you uncomfortable.  

"I know this must be really hard for you. Being alone…" He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, I can help you."  

You shook your head immediately.  

"No," you said firmly. "I’m fine."  

It was a lie, of course. You weren’t fine. You never would be. But accepting help meant admitting you had no one else, no options. And if there was one thing your mother had taught you, it was to never rely on anyone.  

Ward Cameron watched you for a moment longer, then nodded in understanding.  

"If you ever change your mind, here’s my card."  

You didn’t want to take it, but you did anyway. You barely glanced at the name printed on it before stuffing it into your coat. You weren’t going to see him again. You wouldn’t need him.  

Or so you thought.  

Time passed, and loneliness became your only company, routine your only salvation. You had learned to survive, to stay standing even when everything around you was falling apart. But every night, when the house was silent and the weight of reality crushed you, you thought about your mother’s words.  

"True love is a luxury few women can afford. The most important thing is security."  

You had seen your mother sacrifice herself, seen how love had betrayed her over and over until she stopped believing in it. Security was the only thing that mattered. And now, you understood that better than ever.  

That’s why, when you saw Ward Cameron again, it wasn’t so surprising that fate kept pushing you in the same direction.  

You ran into him at a charity event you attended out of obligation. You wore an elegant black dress, simple yet sophisticated, and as you made small talk with people you barely knew, you felt his gaze before you even saw him.  

"I’m glad to see you again," he said, with that same calm voice you remembered.  

You didn’t know what to say. You just nodded, letting him lead the conversation, letting him talk with an ease you had long forgotten.  

"How have you been?"  

"Surviving."  

A shadow crossed his face, but he didn’t push. Instead, he changed the subject, talking about trivial things—business, the event itself. But at the end of the night, just as you were about to leave, he asked the question that would change everything.  

"Marry me."  

You froze.  

"What?"  

He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t look like he was joking.  

"I’m offering you security," he said, with a calmness that made your skin prickle. "You have no one else, and I… I can give you stability."  

He didn’t talk about love. He didn’t promise fairytales or happy endings. Just security.  

And for the first time in your life, you actually considered it.  

Your mother had been right.  

"True love is a luxury."  

Ward Cameron was offering you the only thing that really mattered.  

And so, after a long silence, you looked up and made a decision.  

"I accept."  

The sound of your own voice still hung in the air when the reality of what you had done started hitting you.  

"I accept."  

You had said those words without thinking too much, like they didn’t even belong to you, like someone else had spoken them for you. And now, as Ward Cameron looked at you with approval, with a slight, satisfied smile—almost like he knew you would accept—you started to feel it.  

Regret.  

The feeling hit you like a cold wave, leaving a frozen trail in your chest. What the hell had you done? You didn’t even really know this man. Sure, he had been friends with your mother in her youth, but what did that even mean? You didn’t know anything about him. Where he lived, what exactly he did for a living, whether or not he had kids—though, given his age, he probably did.  

"God."  

The thought struck you suddenly, and nausea twisted in your stomach. What if he had kids your age? It was possible. Ward Cameron had to be in his late forties, maybe even fifty. It wouldn’t be crazy if he had a son or daughter around your age.  

And yet, you had done it. You had accepted his proposal without thinking it through enough.  

"You don’t look very sure," Ward commented, watching you closely.  

You quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to keep your expression in check. You couldn’t back out. Not now.  

"No… it’s just that…"  

You trailed off. There was no excuse you could give that wouldn’t make you sound completely unstable. You couldn’t say, "Sorry, I just realized I agreed to marry a man I barely know" or "Maybe this was an impulsive decision because my life has been a mess lately."  

Ward tilted his head slightly, like he could see every single thought written on your face.  

"You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to," he said, but something in his tone told you he didn’t really mean it.  

It wasn’t a warning or a threat, but it also wasn’t a real way out.  

You forced yourself to take a deep breath.  

"I will," you confirmed, even though the weight of your own words felt heavier than anything else.  

Ward seemed pleased with your answer. He took a slow sip of his wine, completely in control, like this arrangement was the most natural thing in the world.  

That night, you barely slept.  

You tossed and turned in bed, feeling the weight of the commitment you had taken on without really analyzing it.  

"What the hell am I doing?"  

Your thoughts spiraled endlessly. You rationalized it in a thousand different ways.  

"It was the best option."  

"It was the only option."  

"Ward Cameron is offering you security, stability."  

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being… trapped.  

Your mother’s voice echoed in your head.  

"Love is a luxury."  

You didn’t have the luxury of waiting for something so unattainable.  

And still… you couldn’t stop thinking about how strange all of this was.

Ward wasn’t a total stranger, but he wasn’t someone close to you either. You had no idea what kind of husband he’d be. You didn’t know if he was a nice guy or if he was hiding a darker side under his perfect posture and measured smile.

You tried to imagine him. Tried to picture yourself married to him, sharing a house, a bed, a life.

The thought made you shiver.

“It’s too late for regrets.”

You repeated it to yourself until exhaustion finally took over, and you sank into an uneasy sleep.

The following days were a fog of uncertainty. Ward didn’t push or demand anything right away, which, in a way, only made everything feel more unreal.

He’d communicate with you casually, sending short messages asking how you were, if you needed anything. Nothing romantic, nothing that hinted at wanting more from you than just your acceptance.

And yet, every time you received a message from him, every time you saw him, you felt that slight tug in your stomach.

Not fear.

But not calm either.

When the time finally came to discuss the terms of the marriage, you realized Ward had everything perfectly planned. As if he had been preparing for this for years.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing your independence,” he said, sitting across from you at a fancy restaurant, with a glass of wine between his fingers. “You’ll have your own space, your own money, nothing will change too much… except that we’ll be married.”

You just watched him, looking for any sign of real emotion on his face.

“Why are you doing this?” you finally asked, feeling like this was a question you should have asked a long time ago.

Ward set his glass down on the table and leaned slightly toward you.

“Because I can offer you something no one else can,” he replied simply. “Security.”

There it was again. 

“Security.”

It was a deal, one that would probably benefit you.

So why couldn’t you shake that feeling in your chest?

“Maybe because I still don’t know what price I’m really paying.”

After that, only a few days had passed since you accepted Ward’s proposal, and even though you still woke up each morning with the feeling that you had made an impulsive decision, you didn’t back out.

When Ward told you he wanted to introduce you to his family, you knew it was an inevitable step.

“I want you to meet my kids,” he said one afternoon while driving along the immaculate roads of Outer Banks. “It’s important that we do this before everything becomes official.”

The word “official” made you swallow hard.

“Sure,” your voice responded before your brain could fully process it.

Ward gave you a quick glance, as if measuring your reaction.

“You don’t have to worry,” he added. “I don’t expect them to become your best friends overnight, but I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

His words weren’t comforting, but you weren’t expecting them to be.

The sea breeze caressed your face when you finally got out of the car in front of the imposing Cameron house. It was bigger than you imagined, with a classic design and an almost intimidating perfection.

Ward walked ahead of you with his usual confidence, and you followed with your stomach in knots.

As soon as you entered, the sound of muffled laughter and the TV murmurs reached your ears.

“Wheezie, Sarah, Rafe,” Ward called in his firm, authoritative voice.

The first to appear was a little girl with brown hair and a curious expression.

“Dad?” she asked, stopping in her tracks when she saw you. Her eyes scanned your face with interest, no sign of hostility.

“Wheezie,” Ward said, placing a hand on your back. “This is…”

“Your fiancée?” she interrupted with excitement in her voice.

It took you by surprise. How quickly she accepted the idea, her energy, almost made you smile.

“Yeah,” Ward confirmed calmly.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, walking up to you without hesitation. “You’re super pretty.”

Her sincerity made you let out a small laugh, and for the first time since you arrived, the knot in your stomach loosened a little.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

Wheezie smiled broadly before turning on her heels and shouting toward the living room.

“Sarah, Rafe, come quick!”

Your relief didn’t last long.

Seconds later, two figures emerged from the living room. The first was Sarah, her blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her face full of surprise.

The second was a tall young man, with blue eyes and a tense jaw.

Rafe Cameron.

Sarah looked you up and down, her lips slightly parted, as if unsure what to say.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t bother hiding his dislike.

“Who are you?” he sneered with an incredulous smirk.

The tension in the room was instant.

“Rafe,” Ward warned, his voice firm.

“What? We can’t even ask?” his son replied sarcastically.

You took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m your dad’s fiancée,” you said calmly, not lowering your gaze.

Sarah blinked rapidly and let out a small, nervous laugh.

“Wait, wait… what?” 

You could see her brain trying to process it.

Wheezie, excited, decided to chime in.

“Dad’s marrying her. Isn’t it awesome?”

Sarah still seemed confused, but not hostile. However, Rafe kept looking at you with that mix of disdain and silent evaluation that made you uncomfortable.

“And how old are you?” Sarah finally asked, tilting her head.

You knew that question was coming eventually, but still, your heart sped up slightly.

“I’m 19,” you said. “I’m about to turn 20.”

There was a silence.

Sarah opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but it was Rafe who spoke first, letting out a dry laugh.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he scoffed, shaking his head with mocking amusement. “Dad, did you buy yourself a wife who’s younger than us?”

The comment hit hard.

Ward’s jaw tightened immediately.

“Rafe,” his voice was dangerous this time.

“What? I’m just saying the obvious,” he continued, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I mean, we could’ve gone out if things were different.”

You wanted to respond, but the atmosphere was already too tense.

“That’s enough,” Ward cut in sharply.

Rafe rolled his eyes but said nothing more.

Sarah, on the other hand, still looked surprised. She was staring at you with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

“Well… this is… unexpected,” she murmured finally, trying to find the right words.

You tried to smile, though you knew dinner was going to be awkward.

And you weren’t wrong.

The table was perfectly set, the food impeccably prepared, but the tension in the air was undeniable.

Wheezie, oblivious to the conflict, chatted enthusiastically, asking you about your likes, your life before meeting Ward.

Sarah, still surprised, tried to be polite.

But Rafe… Rafe wasn’t making any effort to hide his annoyance.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sarah asked, looking at you with some genuine curiosity.

“My mom and your dad knew each other since they were young,” you explained calmly. “We met at her funeral.”

Sarah blinked a couple of times.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Rafe scoffed.

“How romantic,” he muttered, taking a sip from his glass.

Ward shot him a deadly look.

“Rafe, if you can’t behave, you can leave.”

For a moment, he seemed tempted to do just that, but instead, he adjusted himself in his chair and smiled with fake politeness.

“No, I’m enjoying dinner.”

The conversation continued with awkward silences between forced phrases.

When the dinner finally ended, you felt like you’d just gone through a trial by fire.

Sarah was still processing it, Wheezie seemed excited to have you in her life, and Rafe… Rafe hated you, though he couldn’t deny that you were attractive.

But none of that mattered.

Everything happened faster than you could absorb.

One minute, you were having dinner with Ward’s family, enduring Sarah’s assessing looks and Rafe’s barely concealed contempt, and the next, you were moving into his house, sharing his space, his life.

There wasn’t a long engagement or endless preparations. Ward was a practical man, used to making decisions and having others follow his pace. So, before you could even stop to think about it too much, there was already a ring on your finger and a wedding date set.

Your wedding.

You didn’t know if you were excited or terrified.

The dress was the first thing.

Ward insisted on you having the best, not skimping on anything, so he took you to one of the most exclusive boutiques on the East Coast. The place was a dream, with glass walls, chandeliers, and a selection of dresses that looked like they came straight out of fairy tales.

“Pick the one you want,” he told you in his calm but firm tone. “I want you to feel beautiful that day.”

You felt almost overwhelmed as the attendants brought option after option, each more elaborate than the last.

In the end, you chose one that took your breath away as soon as you put it on.

It was a white silk dress, fitted at the waist with an elegant corset, and a skirt that fell gracefully, not too voluminous. Delicate lace appliqué extended over the neckline and shoulders, giving it a timeless feel. It wasn’t exaggerated or overdone, but it made you feel powerful. Like you really were Mrs. Cameron.

When you came out of the fitting room, Ward looked at you in silence for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.

“It’s perfect.”

His words should’ve made your heart race with excitement, but instead, you felt a strange unease in your chest.

The wedding day came before you could mentally prepare.

The ceremony was private, elegant, and perfectly planned. It was held at the Cameron estate, with flawless floral arrangements and an altar decorated with warm lights. Ward wanted discretion, no scandals or unnecessary attention, and you agreed.

The small circle of guests consisted of important businessmen, some of Ward’s partners, and, of course, his family.

As you walked down the aisle, the dress fitting perfectly with each step, you felt all eyes on you.

Sarah, in the front row, wore a neutral expression, still trying to figure you out.

Wheezie smiled with the same childish excitement she had shown from the beginning.

And Rafe…

Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed into a tense line, his dark eyes full of something you couldn’t quite decipher.

He didn’t look exactly upset, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made you uncomfortable.

Ward took your hand when you reached his side, his fingers enveloping yours firmly.

The ceremony was short, but each word felt heavy.

“In riches and in poverty…”

“In health and in sickness…”

“Until death do us part…”

When Ward slid the ring onto your finger, you knew there was no turning back.

You were now his wife.

Mrs. Cameron.

After the wedding, the honeymoon didn’t happen.

There were no trips to exotic places, no romantic getaways to private islands. No candlelit dinners in Paris or sunsets in Tuscany.

There was only the Cameron house.

There was only the room you now shared with Ward.

That was your honeymoon.

When Ward told you that you couldn’t travel because he had work commitments, you nodded without arguing. You didn’t expect anything different. You weren’t an innocent girl dreaming of fairy tales.

Besides, the sooner you got used to your new life, the better.

The house was big, too big. Sometimes, when Ward wasn’t around, you walked through the halls in silence, feeling like an intruder in a world you didn’t fully understand yet.

Your day-to-day life became filled with a quiet routine. You woke up in the room you now shared with Ward, feeling the coldness of the sheets when he had already gotten up before dawn for his business.

You had breakfast alone in the dining room, flipping through the newspaper even though you didn’t care about what it said.

You crossed paths with the household staff, who treated you with respect, but without the warmth of someone who really knew you.

And, occasionally, you crossed paths with Rafe.

You didn’t speak.

When you passed by him in the halls or in the living room, he barely looked at you. But you could feel his judgment, his silent contempt.

Rafe thought you were an opportunist.

You knew that for him, you were just a young, ambitious woman who had found the perfect way to secure her future. He probably thought you’d manipulated his dad, that you had taken advantage of his generosity and power.

You wondered if he would change his mind

But you didn’t bother to try. 

Sarah, on the other hand, was barely home. 

Since the wedding day, you’d hardly seen her. She spent most of her time with her boyfriend, far away from the Cameron house and all the tension that lingered there. 

You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. 

Part of you thought her distance meant she had no interest in getting to know you. The other part saw it as a quiet truce. 

And then there was Wheezie. 

Your only “friend.”

The youngest Cameron had accepted you without questioning too much. Unlike her siblings, Wheezie didn’t have that deep-rooted cynicism, or the distrust that seemed to come with being Rafe and Sarah. 

She just liked you. 

You’d hang out together in the afternoons, sitting on the porch while she told you stories about her school, her friends, and the little dramas that filled her world. 

"It's weird having someone new in the house," she said one afternoon as you two sipped lemonade in the garden.

"Too weird?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she answered with a smile. "Just... different. But I like it."

It was one of the few times you felt like you belonged somewhere. 

Over the next few days, your only goal was to avoid crossing paths with Rafe, except at dinner. 

You didn’t want to see him. 

You didn’t want to run into him, or even think about him. 

But somehow, Rafe Cameron always ended up showing up. 

You didn’t know if it was fate, bad luck, or if he did it on purpose. But the truth was, your encounters started happening more often. 

Sometimes it was in the kitchen when you’d come down for coffee and find him leaning on the counter, lazily stirring his cup while giving you that same carefree, indifferent look. 

Other times it was in the living room, when you thought the house was empty, only to turn around and find him there, watching you with those eyes that always seemed to analyze, judge, question. 

Then there were the worst encounters: the ones in the hallway. 

In those, he always had something to say. 

Always. 

“Getting used to the rich life yet?” he threw out one time as you passed by him.

You held his gaze without blinking.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about my life, Rafe.”

He let out a dry laugh, like the idea amused him.

“I don’t. I just find it fascinating how some people can get everything without lifting a finger.”

Your jaw clenched.

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He shrugged, that arrogant air that seemed to be part of his DNA. “Maybe you should explain it to me. What's it like marrying someone you barely know? What's it like selling yourself for security?”

This time, you didn’t hold back.

“And what’s it like being a rich kid with a martyr complex?” you fired back. “Because if it bothers you so much that some people get money without ‘lifting a finger,’ maybe you should start with yourself.”

His eyes darkened for a moment.

For a second, you thought he’d hit back with something worse. That he wouldn’t let you win that small war of words that seemed to have started between you two.

But instead, he just stared at you intensely.

And then, without saying anything else, he walked past you and went on his way. 

You didn’t understand why his silence felt like a victory. 

But that wasn’t the end of it. 

Because Rafe didn’t know when to stop. 

And you weren’t about to give in either. 

Every encounter became a battleground disguised as conversation. Every time he opened his mouth, you were ready to respond. 

“What are you gonna do when you get tired of this?” he asked another day, when you found him on the porch, a beer in hand. “When you get bored pretending this is what you wanted?”

“What are you gonna do when you realize that your opinion doesn’t matter to me?” you shot back, taking a sip of your own drink.

He clicked his tongue and slammed the bottle down on the wooden table a bit harder than necessary.

“You still think this is a game, don’t you?”

“And you still think you know everything about me.”

His gaze swept over your face, like he was looking for a lie.

Like he wanted to see if there was a crack in your confidence, in your stance, in your tone.

But he found nothing. 

And that seemed to piss him off even more.

That same night, as dinner went on as usual, everyone was sitting around the table. 

It was one of those rare nights when Ward was home in time for dinner with you and his kids. Wheezie was chatting animatedly about her day, Sarah barely paying attention while staring at her phone, and Rafe… 

Rafe was staring at you.

Not in the usual way, with disdain or condescension.

No.

This time, his gaze lingered on one specific spot. 

Your cleavage. 

It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. But when you lifted your gaze, and his eyes took a second longer than usual to meet yours, you knew. 

It didn’t make you uncomfortable. 

But it did confuse you. 

What was he looking for? 

What was he thinking? 

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. You simply looked back down at your plate, took your wine glass, and kept talking to Ward like nothing had happened. 

“I was thinking about going to New York next month,” your husband said, with his calm and calculated tone. “You should come with me.”

You smiled at him.

“I’d like that.”

He seemed pleased with your answer. His fingers brushed yours on the table, a soft but possessive gesture. 

You didn’t look at Rafe.

But you could feel his gaze still on you. 

Burning.

Analyzing.

Judging.

When dinner was over, Ward came over to you. 

He took your hand gently, but firmly, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“I missed you today,” he murmured, leaning in closer to you.

He kissed your cheek first, then your lips. A quick kiss, but public enough for everyone to see. To make sure there was no doubt about who you were now.

You felt Rafe’s eyes on you two. 

You didn’t dare turn to look at him. 

You didn’t know what expression he had on his face. 

But as Ward guided you out of the dining room and toward the bedroom, you could feel Rafe’s gaze still fixed on you. 

Watching. 

Thinking. 

And that... 

That did make you uncomfortable.

[worfsbarmitzvah]

in the coming weeks, months, and years PLEASE be mindful of posts that rile you up but include no useful or actionable information.

an example i just encountered on tiktok: “they’re banning these books!!!” who is banning them? what, exactly, do the bans entail (are they banned from being taught in schools, removed from school libraries, from public libraries, etc)? in what parts of the country? is this coming from school boards, local legislators, or somewhere else? what is the source of this information? am i supposed to be able to do something about this, or am i just supposed to get mad, leave an incredulous comment, and scroll on?

social media makes it easier than ever for people to feed off of fear and anger. misinformation spreads like wildfire online. BE DILIGENT. do not let people use your outrage to farm engagement. direct that energy toward action based on verifiable information. attend local government meetings. find a real-life community (even one that isn’t oriented toward activism — you will make connections that will be essential in the coming years whether your community is a volunteer group or a dnd campaign).

you are not obligated to complete the work, but you are not free to abandon it. getting worked up over posts feels righteous, and you think you’re gonna put that energy away to do Something with it later, but i know from experience that that doesn’t work. you overwhelm yourself with all the bad news and you keep doomscrolling.

here are some actions that make a difference:

get some rubber gloves and a trash bag, go for a short walk, and pick up all the litter you see.

donate to the aclu.

draw or write something. in times like this we need art.

call your local food bank and see if they’re looking for volunteers or donations.

this website lists various ways you can help undocumented people.

go to or contact your local public library and find out what groups, activities, and programs they have available. even if there’s nothing there for you, get a library card and use it regularly.

there is so much more you can do, but it will vary from place to place and person to person. my point is: find what you can do and do it rather than doomscrolling for four years straight.

remember to practice self-care. you cannot boil an empty kettle. tidy up your living space, take a bath or shower, do some stretches or jumping jacks or push-ups, take a few deep breaths.

if you are a minor right now, especially if you won’t be 18 before the next election, your job right now is to SURVIVE. that’s everybody’s job, but kids and teenagers especially. do not burn yourself out on despair before you ever get to cast a ballot. i know it’s terrifying right now. i was 12 on january 20, 2017. i know how you’re feeling. it won’t be easy and the you that you are in 2028 will not be the you that you are today. be good to your friends, do your best in school, and take care of your body and mind. that is your ONLY job. you might see kids your age doing activism, like kids my age saw greta thunberg and x gonzález during trump’s first term. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE THEM. you just have to keep yourself going. the future needs you.

again, whatever you do, DO NOT GIVE IN TO DESPAIR. do not give your attention and energy to people that just want your like and your outraged comment. save that energy for things that help heal the world.

[melancholicstation]

YOU TASTE LIKE THE FOURTH OF JULY! - jack schlossberg raya one-shot date.

summary: you join raya as a half-joke but what you find on there—or should you say who you find on there is anything but a laughing matter: none other than jack schlossberg himself.

warnings: drinking, light petting and kisses, innocent touches, yearning desperate man alert...

words: 1,778

Currently, it was an unassuming 4:30pm in the city that never sleeps and what were you doing with your precious time this afternoon? writing emails you'd been procrastinating? calling your grandma who you haven't spoken to in weeks? no, of course not. You were doom-scrolling TikTok for the past few hours.

However the doom-scroll wasn't for nothing, through it you'd identified a common thread running throughout your algorithm: videos upon videos of various young woman who'd taken a break from shilling their amazon shop links to share niche internet personalities—and on the rare occasion actual b-tier celebrity men dating profiles through shaky screen-caps on a dating app called 'Raya'.

According to Google.com 'Raya' was "a private, membership based community for people all over the world to connect and collaborate." Private membership you thought, how overly and unbelievably pretentious. However, and if anyone asked you would deny, you weren't completely turned off by a tinge of pomp and circumstance, in small batches at least.

The first couple videos you scrolled mindlessly, fast forwarding through the video to see if any of your favourite a24 actors had been making the rounds on the dating app: no takers yet.

That was until you saw him. At around the 24 second mark of the video you saw the dating profile of the only grandson of JFK, and the full-time internet heartthrob littering the pages of teenage girls Pinterest accounts—Jack Schlossberg. Now that stopped you in your tracks.

Not many men could get you to perform such a silly act as to pay $24.99 a month for a fucking dating app but alas here you were punching in the details of your black card and hitting purchase. You rationalised this undeniably delusional act by telling yourself that you'd see what all the fuss was about for a month and promptly revoke your subscription once the month was over. Currently, the date was the 1st of September, perfect. By 30th you'd definitely be bored by the app, as you were with all the other apps you've tried before, and it would be forgotten about as a frivolous but harmless expense of $24.99.

After setting up your profile you'd chosen a mix of photos: one sporty photo you'd taken at Wimbledon which does completely misrepresent your true nature of detesting all things involved in tennis—bar the outfits, a photo of you on your ex-boyfriend's motorcycle but potential swipers on your profile didn't need to know that specific detail, and a couple photos of you at a gala you attended as a plus one with a greek prince. Snobby, but as they say if the shoe fits walk in it.

Now sure, was it a carbon copy of your bumble profile... Yes but was that a crime? The prompts were as stupid as the membership price tag so you treated them as such.

Like a prompt that read "I disagree when people say that I'm..."

To which you replied, "the problem."

And another prompt that read "Favourite self-care ritual"

To which you replied, "praying on my cousins downfall"

Snarky replies that most definitely did not come off the best to possible dating prospects but hey you didn't quite care—mostly because you weren't thinking that you'd be earnestly engaging in a real romantic sense with anyone you'd find. You were simply doing this for scientific research purpose, and maybe to make fun of mens profiles over two or three dirty martini's at Harry Cipriani with a few of your girlfriends.

After completing your profile and after swiping through a few profiles recommended to you—and finding no luck with any of the men you saw so far you'd effectively abandoned the app for a couple of hours. That was until it so rudely interrupted your evening with a notification.

You'd went on with your day with relative peace and managed to intercept your part-time career of couch-rotting watching the first season of girls on HBO to go down to your local grocer on Canal St. Opting to get yourself an iced expresso latte with raw stevia and pumpkin milk, with a with a slice of buckwheat cake as an impromptu choice-anxiety driven decision.

Fumbling inside your bag for the keys to your apartment your phone starts to buzz, not an abnormal appearances as your mother has a penchant for incessant checkups now that you're living on your own for the first time, but it doesn't end with 1 or 2 buzzers. It keeps going for around 4 buzzers. Frustrated, you finally get into your apartment shuffling off your jacket and setting aside the fresh coffee, and baked good and angrily swipe up on your phone ready to be annoyed at whatever notification you find.

But instead you're absolutely and irrevocably gobsmacked at what you find:

"You've matched with Jack Schlossberg, 31. Click here to start a conversation"

You click on the notification, and are surprised to see a message has already been sent...

"We already have something in common! I too love plotting the downfall of my cousin as well and think i'm never the problem."

"2 for 2 is a good start" you reply back trying to maintain a normal level of interest mixed with a cool detachment needed to move through dating app conversations.

"We could find a couple more similarities over drinks tonight, if you're free?"

Very forward of him which you definitely didn't expect coming from a man with the internet persona he'd created over the last year. Admittedly you hadn't followed him or shown much interest past nodding emphatically when shown a post of him being hailed as the "internet's baby girl" by one of your girlfriends, but something about his assertiveness endeared him to you.

And before you knew it you were accepting his invitation of drinks at Socialista at 7pm.

Fast forward a couple hours, and you were fixing your lipstick in the back of the Uber before it unceremoniously dropped you off outside the cocktail lounge: the exterior of the bar painted an unassuming shade of charcoal paint.

Pushing open the door to the lounge you're met with the sweet yet severely overrated aromas of baccarat rouge 540 and santal 33. Dressed in a simple skirt and top set with a pair of strappy sandals in black you scan the refined interior of the lounge: green walls, crushed red velvet furnishings, and aged brass fixtures as far as the eye can see, but no sight of Jack yet. You find a two seater booth and sit down calling over a waiter, dressed so elegantly you might just assume it's Thom Browne and considering that its Socialista it very might well be.

You decide on a bourbon old fashioned and as you take your first sip your eyes fixate on the man entering the lounge. And it's none other than Jack himself wearing a long sleeve sable button-up, black slacks, and a nylon sneaker with wool socks.

The first couple of minutes were the typical awkward dance of a first date but after just a short 30 minutes you guys started to get hit a stride and happen to have very good chemistry—defying the common and frequent horror stories experienced on first dates. You guys bond over difficult familial relationship, though you can't imagine having it all play out on the public stage.

As the hour progresses from 7pm to 8 and from 8 to 9 you get cosier and cosier, and by 9:21 your knees rest on each others while you intently listen to his ramblings on why he much prefers cocktail lounges to restaurants,

"-And you end up having to wait for some guy-and then tell him what you want to eat. I mean it's a draconian concept!"

He says it with such magnetism and charisma that you'd think he was talking about something evoking passion, and not the flawed system of the restaurant industry, but you gather that's what draws him to people—that's what, against your better judgement, draws him to you.

You stay for another hour, but you both get up to leave at the chagrin of the staff who looked increasingly more agitated as the minutes ticked by, grateful that you guys took the hint to leave the lounge. Once you do, you both step out on the street.

The end of the date was, by far, the most awkward part of the date for you, it has always been this dance around skirting around a conversation in which you try to assert if the other wants to continue the night, or never wants to see you again in their life.

I couldn't really tell which side Jack was sitting on, despite our conversations and all around great date. However that was made clear to me seconds later

"Tell me if I'm a weirdo and I'll drop it immediately—you'll never have to see me again, but is it okay if I kiss you?"

Despite the touches on the arm and the innocent, light knee rubbing that occurred during the date you found yourself taken back at the earnest desire he presented to you in just that sentence alone. To his comment you emphatically nod with an embarrassingly enthusiastic "Yes", feeling the culmination of the tension and since desire that had steeped and brewed over the course of the night.

The kiss was, as cheesy, 90s erotica as it may sound, was electric and all-consuming. You swore you got so in the moment that you had to remind yourself to take breaths in between—and by the sound of Jack's breathing he might've had to as well.

You both stop after a while, suddenly aware of the possible bystanders who could be looking on, but you both maintain sharp eye contact with each other. Similarly, he continues to hold your forearm—lightly stroking it between his fingers with a quiet intimacy you hadn't quite ever experienced with a man you've known for less than 12 hours.

Without your knowledge you let out a small yawn, to which Jack loudly chuckles under his breath,

"I really bore you out that bad, huh?"

Embarrassed you bow your head, focusing on the graffitied pavement,

"Not at all—I just have a raging caffeine addiction and it's about the time i'd normally have a fix"

"Well not to sound presumptuous-"

"You definitely will, but I'm liking you so i'll allow you to go on anyway."

"I do have a pretty great coffee machine in my apartment if I do say so myself?" To which he proposes the undercover invitation as more of a question and less of a demand which you subtly appreciate.

"Lead the way"

taglist: @carly-rae-jean @h-l-vlovesvintage @inocennture @monturi @hisamericanmuse @passhun4w-blog @vile-harlot @bluelancergirl @jackiesgirl @fortheloveofjos @itgirlvirgo @starsprangledgirl @malkavared @remotewatch @salvatoresablondie @kimcrystal123 @vampyiricris @scaredlamb @dulcegal @strryhaze @chiliscrazylife @joansiesbeloved @beloved-angel

note: for this universe forget raya has a waiting list… i forgot that while writing this

[tinartss]

some of tin's fav haikavetham fics (fic rec list!)🍓🍓

hello all i've always wanted to make a fic rec list and i feel like i've collected enough hkvh fics to make one now LOL most definitely i am forgetting to include a lot but here are a few of my faves!

notes:

check tags before reading👍

most if not all are sfw bc that is my vibe

sorted from least recent -> most recent

was gonna add little comments to each but i'm now realizing that would take up a huge amt of space so. just know that all of these changed the trajectory of my life. thank u fic authors for all u do🫶

then who? by heartslogos (T, 27k)

“Let me,” Kaveh would say with his eyes, his head, his hands. Let him what? Let him in, let him speak, let him stay, let him touch and see and listen — All of the above. Has it not always been so, the two of them like this, Kaveh and Al-Haitham? Kaveh: not quite asking, not quite taking. Al-Haitham: not quite answering, not quite offering. - Al-Haitham has been confined to bed-rest for a month. Kaveh assists. Al-Haitham recovers, they both do.

Asked and Answered by heartslogos (T, 55k)

It begins in the House of Daena, or at least, Kaveh thinks that that’s where it should begin. If one were to trace the flow of events backwards, it would lead to this moment. If Kaveh were Al-Haitham, he would insist on going further back. Further. Further. Further. All the way back, to the literal beginning of all of time and creation, possibly. But Kaveh’s brain only has enough room for so many creations at any given moment, and the works of others — while inspiring — historically don’t get students passing grades. Or even grades at all. When thinking about one’s relationship with their soulmate, it seems natural to think to a first meeting. A first introduction. Well. This can be said for any relationship. It all begins with that first brush — a name, given; a silhouette, glanced; a voice, heard.

the truest forms of love by heartslogos (T, 29k)

“Nahida said that the moment you touch the seeds is the moment you must stop speaking,” the Traveler says to him, standing between Al-Haitham and the door of the simple, small hut that is to become his and Kaveh’s for the foreseeable future. “Is there anything else you want to say?” The beak of the swan is foreign, cool and strange. Al-Haitham struggles not to flinch away from it as it slides along the side of his jaw, his cheek — imploring and fretful. One last and ineffective plea. Al-Haitham feels the warm weight of solid muscle around his neck, his shoulders — the fidget of wings, the beat of a heart. Al-Haitham’s fingers sink into soft feathers and the bones and muscles of a bird shift against his hands as he holds Kaveh close. What is there to say? Why bother to say something to someone who cannot say anything back? “Stand aside,” Al-Haitham says, slowly lowering Kaveh to the ground. “The sooner I begin, the sooner it ends.” - A story loosely based on the fairy tale of "The Six Swans".

house of cards by luminvies (T, 21k)

There is a scrap of parchment he'd created and abandoned all the way back when the two had been attending the Akademiya together. Sometime between then and the first month he has to move in with Al-Haitham, the list gets crossed out, scribbled over, crumpled up, carefully unfolded again, and revised. The working title for his tireless troubles: Ten Reasons You Cannot, Under Any Circumstances, Fall In Love With Al-Haitham.

…And how Kaveh falls anyway.

through the grapevine by katarasvevo (G, 3.8k)

Theories are passed around in the form of whispers: Professor Alhaitham probably said something that angered Professor Kaveh. Professor Kaveh, unable to let the insult slide, decided to take revenge by interrupting his precious class time. A prediction goes around that in less than ten seconds, Professor Alhaitham will proceed to offend Professor Kaveh even more with a tactless comment, which will lead to Professor Kaveh and Professor Alhaitham murdering each other. The whole class will walk out today without needing to write the test, having been traumatized by the tragic demise of the two professors. It is not a very pleasant line of thought, but it is sadly the only logical outcome.

In which everyone is convinced Professor Alhaitham and Professor Kaveh are sworn enemies, unaware that their relationship isn’t at all what it seems.

the kübler-ross model on romance by luminvies (T, 10.8k)

Kaveh smiles up at the stranger. "Sorry, he's right! I am taken. By him. But he doesn't know it yet." What. "Wait, what did you mean by that?" Al-Haitham asks faintly. "Oh, that?" Kaveh scoffs. "You're a little dense. Obviously, I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn't want to be kept by anybody but you." "But we are—" Al-Haitham trips over his words, trailing behind Kaveh as he walks purposefully through the city. "We aren't. Together. Neither of us has confirmed anything of the sort." Kaveh gives him a derisory look. "And what, we don't act like it? Some things don't have to be put into words to be understood. Ah, I forgot. Haravatat. You probably wouldn't accept anything else any other way." "It is not logical to make assumptions without empirical evidence." "You scholarly types," Kaveh mutters. "Always so particular."

So. Al-Haitham is in love with Kaveh. This has got to be somebody's fault.

Cue the five stages of grief.

The Fall by heartslogos (M, 131k)

In the third generation of Lord Sangemah Bays when all is but a dream, Lord Kusanali, from their divine seat in the Sanctuary of Surasthana stirs and reaches their hands to the sky. They arrange their fingers to capture a square of sky, humming and singing to themselves as they put the patch of star and moon and cloud through the divine calculus before they translate it into the tongues of men to be made knowable, and perhaps even understandable — and with great fortune, actionable. “Summon the court,” Lord Kusanali says, “The Third Face of God has spoken. Hear the Word through me and make your peace. For the God Kings only ever speak thrice on any given subject.” The court of Sumeru crowds the Sanctuary of Surasthana. “That which waits in the Palace of Alcazarzaray can only be absolved through a union of souls and an exchange of hearts, a lifelong journey that ends only in death.” Lord Kusanali translates. And then, beatific, “What you need is a wedding.”

set alight by celestialfics (T, 2.3k)

Since he was young, Alhaitham has followed a self-imposed, unspoken rule not to touch other people unless strictly necessary. Over the years, there have been two exceptions. One was his grandmother, whose side he would cling to as she read him books on the living room couch. She would pet his hair, and he’d lean into the touch, not unlike a kitten blissfully being groomed by its mother. The other exception was an Akademiya upperclassman named Kaveh.

transparent night by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (G, 9.4k)

“Sir, kindly do not obstruct us,” says the matra sharply. “We are in the midst of carrying out an arrest.” “An arrest?” repeats Kaveh, incredulously. “You’re arresting him? You’re arresting him? Why, what in Teyvat has he done?” The Archon Rescue Operation is going as smoothly as it possibly can — that is, until Kaveh returns prematurely from his desert trip, and runs into Alhaitham at the absolute worst possible moment. Of course he would.

this is what happens in the absence of small-talk by pencanze (T, 17k)

Haitham and Kaveh, whose travels are leading them in opposite directions, meet as strangers in a caravanserai—a travelers’ guest house. Because even opposite directions have a point of intersection or overlap, don’t they? Some might even call that point a headfirst collision. And another thing about opposite directions: they still run in parallel, even long after they’ve crossed.

trishna by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (T, 8.2k)

Down the seventh-floor passage in Vahumana, past the statue of the sage Zolfikar, and behind the third door from the left; inside a small, abandoned seminar room in the Sumeru Akademiya is a mirror cursed to show the viewer their heart’s deepest desire. Kaveh’s father smiles at him, slowly, so Kaveh can see it happen; the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and his eyes twinkle. He’s moving, alive. Kaveh hasn’t seen his father smile – not the expression itself, preserved in an old Kamera shot he kept in his sketchbook, but the very action of smiling – in almost ten years. An Alhaitham/Kaveh X Mirror of Erised AU

if they ask my gain from this world’s harvest by patchy (T, 16k)

In the silence that follows, Alhaitham seems to interpret the end of the conversation. He takes a step back into his bedroom and starts to shut the door. “I’ll pay you tomorrow,” Kaveh forces out, his voice cracking embarrassingly. The door pauses in its trajectory. Kaveh takes a deep breath. “But this is the last time,” he continues in a lower voice. “I’ll be out of your space by the end of the month.” Alhaitham pushes open the door.

The House, The Home, You and Me by sonotfine (G, 11.9k)

Alhaitham's books-hoarding situation continued to grow out of control. Kaveh magnanimously decided to offer to build a new house for him, with enough space for his ego and the books too. This was fine by Alhaitham. And, of course, he wanted it to be a house for two. -- On moving out of the old, moving on to the new, and moving forward together.

what it means to point true by luminvies (T, 9.8k)

It is biologically impossible for a man to replicate technological functions. As much as Kaveh (and colleagues) like calling Al-Haitham an index of niche and generally insignificant information on legs, he will never quite live up to the title. Here's a novel one: people must have taken to thinking of him as a human compass because they always seem to come to him when they're looking for Kaveh.

is that what I look like? by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (T, 3,8k)

Alhaitham grows a beard. Why? Who knows.

Three or Four (Or Possibly Five) Easy Steps to Living Harmoniously With Your Roommate by Bgtea (T, 28.7k)

The truth of the matter is, Kaveh has no idea how to read Alhaitham. He prides himself on being an expert at understanding people, his empathetic heart lending him the capacity to relate deeply with those around him (oftentimes to his detriment). But with Alhaitham, there is nothing for him to read; no clues from his cool expression for him to grasp. The man appears stoic all the time even during their petty bickering. Honestly, when was the last time Kaveh has seen the man do anything except smirk or frown? Does Alhaitham feel happiness? Has he ever seen the man laugh? Kaveh's mind is drawing a blank on the latter and it...bothers him deeply. -- Kaveh devises a plan to get Alhaitham to smile by being aggressively nice to the man (and also maybe if he makes Alhaitham happy, he can score a discount on his rent or something). Alhaitham thinks Kaveh ate some mind-altering mushrooms and is, understandably, confused and mildly afraid.

in weal and in woe by kurigohan_to_kamehameha (G, 26.7k)

“Oh, right – Alhaitham.” Kaveh claps a hand to his forehead. “Cyno, if you see him at the Akademiya tomorrow, don’t mention this to him, would you? I haven’t told him yet.”

“Told him?” Cyno asks slowly, a wary glint in his eye. “What exactly haven’t you told him?” “That I’m getting married,” Kaveh grimaces. “I wanted to tell him myself – I suppose I do want him at the wedding after all, you know – but I didn’t get a chance yet. You know what it’s like, trying to have a conversation with him.” It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. Kaveh is a single man. That's about it, really. or: the one in which Kaveh gets married, but not to whom you think.

the hypothetical shore by heartslogos (T, 10k)

When Al-Haitham was still a student in the Akademiya he wore his hair long. As long as Kaveh’s is now, perhaps a little longer than that, even. But unlike Kaveh's, Al-Haitham’s hair was just as quiet as he was, just as cool — like a stream of silver water, fresh from the mountain pass. To this day Kaveh remembers the exact moment he thought he might be falling in love with Al-Haitham and that, perhaps, it might not be such a terrible thing.

de insomniis by liyuen (M, 32k)

Kaveh and Alhaitham live together. Nothing ever happens. Nothing ever hurts. But sometimes, when Kaveh watches Nahida idly finish her homework, he gets the feeling that he’s forgetting something important.

Kaveh must have fallen asleep at his desk again, the morning light hitting his eyes like a slap. He blinked at the soft green blanket over his shoulders. When he stumbled into the hall, Alhaitham was sitting in the living quarters with his back to him, soundproof earpieces alit. He had a stupid moment where he wanted to call out to Alhaitham. What would he even say? ‘I’m having some trouble.’ ‘Is the blanket yours?’ ‘You were right, I’m in over my head.’ ‘Can you hear me out?’ ‘Help me. Please, help me.’ Stupid. He yawned and went to stumble his way to the kitchen. From his periphery, he thought he saw Alhaitham turn towards him with a look like he wanted to say something. But that, too, surely was just a very nice dream.

The Importance of Interruption by theSealby (T, 8.6k)

Years. It has been years, yet it could’ve been yesterday they were sitting side by side, thigh to thigh, eye to eye, filled with a contentment that their future selves have lost. Maybe it would be enough to have that again. Maybe correctness has no place here—has never been the ultimate goal between them—and Alhaitham finds himself asking a very different question than intended. “How would you like to come home?” ✥ Alhaitham loathes interruptions. (All except one).

To Dream in Shades of Green by Intensely_Reading (T, 55k)

“There are three suitors who you can romance in this game. You must complete all your requirements with one of them." “Who are the three potential suitors?” Kaveh asks warily. “Your three suitors are Tighnari, the blunt Palace Chamberlain; Cyno, the standoffish Captain of the Royal Guard; and Al-Haitham, the acerbic Duke of Vultur Volans.” There's a new invention from the Yae Publishing House that turns a user's dreams into light novel stories. Kaveh has the (un)fortunate pleasure of being one of its first users. Too bad it dumped him in a romance game.

The Theorem of Narrow Interests by lumielle (M, 36k)

Kaveh clicks his tongue. “Well, I hope you are also aware that with all these requirements, you don’t get a set (A+B), or even (A+B+C). Yours is a set comprised of the entire Sumerian alphabet!” Kaveh has had enough of Alhaitham always loitering around the house. In an attempt to get Alhaitham to go out more often, he jokingly tells him to start dating someone. Much to Kaveh’s shock, Alhaitham agrees—and promptly assigns him as his personal matchmaker. And even though Alhaitham’s requirements for his ideal partner are annoyingly specific, Kaveh refuses to back down from a good challenge. He’s confident in his abilities—that is, until his own feelings start getting in the way…

Precipice by viiparyas (M, 37k)

Lately, his heart staggers at a precipice, just one breath from toppling over. Into what, he doesn’t know. After everything, after everything… He can’t help but melt easily into the intimacy between them, whether it’s by his design or not.

Kaveh has won fame and renown through Sumeru, witnessed the dissolution of a corrupt government, traveled from the trenches of homelessness to the pinnacles of a fairytale paradise. And yet something deep between his ribs screams, more, more, more.

or, Kaveh discovering what he truly wants and finally reaching for it. (Spoiler alert: it's Alhaitham)

nazar by pencanze (T, 13k)

It’s like they’re in a globed world of their own, trapped within a glazed bead. Shatterproof, soundproof, impregnable and unbreakable to anyone else—anyone besides themselves. (On superstitions, friendships, and other things that shatter.)

case study of the scribe by Jazer (T, 25.5k)

"The consequences of obtaining knowledge is the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. "

In which Alhaitham realizes that a peaceful existence does not have to mean a lonely one.

People keep coming to Al-Haitham when they want to know where Kaveh is. Al-Haitham would be lying if he said he didn't know why.

silviculture by sunsmasher (T, 13k)

Kaveh’s face is bright, young, flushed, freckled, happy. He’s wearing an Akademiya uniform and is as tall as the last time Alhaitham saw him (fifteen minutes ago) which means he’s an inch or two shorter than the last time Alhaitham saw him, because the uniform boots are heeled. He’s staring at Alhaitham with the aforementioned flush spreading like dye over the silk of his cheeks. “Kaveh,” Alhaitham says. “Don’t freak out. I believe I’ve been displaced in time.”

spitefully yours by luminvies (T, 6k)

Dear Al-Haitham, I propose that we meet this Friday at sundown on the southeast edge of the city bordering Avidya Forest. This is a marital engagement. Please come prepared with your sword at the ready. With spite, Kaveh Al-Haitham sets down the letter, letting out a long sigh. After all, isn’t the answer to dealing with domestic disputes not marriage? Isn’t that entirely contradictory to the issue?

Kaveh sends Al-Haitham martial summons to sort out their issues. Unfortunately, he makes a small error in the letter.

The Art of Misunderstanding by Anonymous (M, 7k)

"Kaveh didn't consider himself to be vain. Yet he was becoming increasingly, upsettingly aware that most associates would disagree. Vanity, by definition, refers to an inflated sense of self-importance and pride in oneself. A vain person may believe themselves to be the best in the room. They may find it absurd that all eyes do not fall on them the instant they make themselves known. A vain person may put themselves on a pedestal, believing themselves objectively skilled in their field. And though Kaveh had trust and confidence in himself as an artist, he was caught entirely off-guard to hear that others thought of him as vain." ------ AKA, Kaveh misunderstands when he overhears an upsetting conversation between old classmates. His assumption is that they are attacking his character and commenting on his personality. In reality, they're talking about his looks. Everyone picks up on it, save for Kaveh himself.

Illness, Drowning, and Other Minor Inconveniences by EulerIHKH (G, 11k)

Faced with a uniquely difficult client, Kaveh is reluctantly forced to look for help in the one architect he considers more capable than himself: his mother. But soon enough, the turmoil of Kaveh's personal life begins to seep into their professional correspondence, forcing him to reevaluate his career, relationships, and identity.

love haitham and kaveh....love these fics....so many talented writers...thank you authors <33 def missing a bunch bc my organization on ao3 is horrendous but i can update this or make another list at some point....also i would highly appreciate any recs tyy🙏

( + bonus not rec but self promo of a hkvh fic i tried my hand at writing last summer but never shared oops. here she is if you're intrigued

a comedy of errors (T, 6.7k) )

[thecheshireprincess]

The Game Itself

Chapter IIb: Descending into Darkness

A Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) AU Series

Content Warning: Canon-typical violence, killing, mentions of blood, mentions of an abusive father/abusive childhood, curse words

A/N: This is a bonus chapter following Niragi when he first gets to the Borderlands; it was originally intended to be much shorter than my other chapters, but as always it got out of hand. I hope you enjoy!

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This was not the kind of game that Niragi had signed up for. He had been thinking cards, maybe video games, maybe even laser tag. No. This game? Coded Eight of Spades and titled The Hunt. How to win? Stay alive and eliminate everyone on the opposing team.

Eliminate, just a softer way to say slaughter. It had been a blood bath. Twenty people joined the game with them, ten per team. By the end, there were only three remaining - Niragi and two of his teammates. What was worse? He hadn't hated it. He was grateful that you weren't there, but he hadn't hated it.

The beast he'd long kept locked away now wide awake.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

The restaurant was elegant; nothing but the best for his ritzy coworkers, he supposed. Plush carpeting, jeweled chandeliers, a bathroom with fancy soaps and an attendant. Niragi stretches uncomfortably in his dress shirt, wishing he had joined you and Chishiya for dinner instead. To hell with monthly company obligations, this is just painful.

The man excuses himself from his coworkers, exiting through the patio door to get some fresh air and collect his thoughts. The night is reasonably cool, a fresh breeze tousling the hairs that had fallen out of the bun at the base of his neck.

His mind wanders to you, back to your conversation yesterday. He hadn't let you see it, but he was bothered when you reminded him that you were "an adult now" and felt like you shouldn't be coming to him with your problems anymore. Firstly, because he truly does believe you don't stop needing someone just because you grow up, like he'd told you. Secondly, and more importantly, is that he really wasn't ready for you to grow up and move on with your life. He hated change.

Niragi had devoted his whole life to taking care of you. He was only five years old when you were born, but had been absolutely smitten with you from the moment he looked at your tiny body swaddled in your mother's arms. He was determined to do anything to keep you safe. In a cruel twist of fate, it was your own father that had made that a challenge. Niragi did what he could to shield you from the abuse over the years; hiding you from the older man's wrath, stepping in to take the blows intended for you, cradling your shaking and crying form at night. But by the time he was sixteen, he'd tolerated enough. He left the house one night for the last time, actively looking for a way to steal you away too.

You had one particularly traumatizing night, one that Niragi will never forget. If you had sustained permanent damage later in life, it would have been because of that night. By the end of it, though, he had the evidence he needed to get emergency placement of you and finally whisk you away to safety. When he was eighteen, the court granted him full legal custody. He had the power to protect you the way he always wanted to.

It wasn't as though your father had cared about keeping you, no. He hadn't even wanted either of you in the first place; having children was just another way for his toxic ass to manipulate and control your mother. Once she was gone, it was you that he'd wanted to manipulate. Too similar. Having custody of you was the only way he could control you, a literal child. Once you were with Niragi, you were finally free.

So yeah, he's really only known a life of being your caregiver, your provider, your protector. It did hurt that someday, relatively soon, you'd graduate from medical school and become a doctor. You'd be living the dreams that you had worked so hard for. You'd move out and eventually marry Chishiya - he smirked fondly at that thought. You two were stubborn and hadn't acknowledged your feelings yet, but he knew you would. Someday. He would be proud and happy for you, of course. But when someday came, then Niragi would be all alone. Abandoned. Stuck with his thoughts. Stuck with the side of him that he has trampled so far down that no one ever has to see it. So that you never have to see it.

When you no longer needed him, he would be forced to finally face the truth. There was darkness inside him from the years of abuse. Torture. Of not being good enough for the one person that was supposed to accept you no matter what. Niragi would have to face the fact that despite being your true parent all these years - a good parent, at that - he was not a good person.

And so, he clings to you. Babies you a little bit more than a 19 year old maybe should be. To hell with it really, you were still so young. So hurt. Maybe it's not a question of how much you need him anymore, but how much he needs you. How much he needs you to need him.

Niragi feels suffocated by his own thoughts and yanks the tie away from his neck. Why the fuck did he even agree to wear a tie? Dressing up for dinner is wildly overrated, truly. Next month he'll be suggesting the ramen place on the corner. He's interrupted from his freak out by a loud crackling sound and a flash. Fireworks? The sun hasn't even set yet. What a waste of someone's time.

He turns to re-enter the restaurant and face his stuck up coworkers again. They don't need to know he's having an existential crisis, he'll reign it in. He'll play their game. As the door opens and he looks around, all he sees is dark. Huh? He'd heard of mood lighting, but this was just ridiculous.

The further Niragi walks into the building, the thicker the air felt. Previously lit chandeliers swinging slightly, ominously. Food and drinks sat waiting for the patrons that ordered them, though if Niragi didn't know better, he would have said it had been sitting there for more than just a few minutes. Strange.

"Hello?" He calls, voice echoing. Was this a prank? He felt irritation prickle under his skin. He didn't like being the butt of a joke. What in the fuck was going on? He unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt, rolling up the sleeves. Trying to breathe more easily.

He didn't know what was going on, but decided that having a weapon couldn't hurt. If it was all a prank, he would just turn it back around on them. He made his way quietly through the dining room and towards the swinging double doors to the kitchen. Presuming that he wouldn't find a gun anywhere - his weapon of choice - a knife would be the next best thing. He searched through the drawers stuffed full of cutlery and along the polished metallic counters, finally settling on a large butcher's knife. This would work for now.

His mind is already on you again, on figuring out if you were here in this place too. You were supposed to be having dinner at that cafe that you and Chishiya were obsessed with, down the street. That would be a good place to start.

Navigating Shibuya was usually an unimaginable pain in the ass that Niragi would do anything to avoid, but not today. It seemed that all of Tokyo was under this strange spell, dark and devoid of human life. Honestly, if he didn't have you to worry about, he'd say it was even kind of nice. Peaceful.

But the thing is, he DID have you to worry about, and he WAS worried. What if something happened to you and you were hurt? Or worse? His eyes widened as he allowed his brain to run away with possibilities. Sprinting. Niragi was now sprinting down the street like a track star towards the usually obnoxiously colored cafe, now standing hauntingly in the shadows.

He could almost see the ghost of you in his memories running too, racing Chishiya down the street to see who could get there first. You would win, you always win.

The man sighed dejectedly, opening the glass door to the completely empty cafe. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he looked around for any indication that you had even been here in the first place.

He approached the booth you always chose, the one with the picture of the fat tabby cat. The one pet you'd always begged for and he never let you have. Regret. His eyes flick to the seat - lying against the window was your brown leather school bag, the one he'd gotten for you to start medical school with. He dives into the booth to snatch it up; so you HAD been here.

Setting the bag on the table, he searches in vain for a clue that he already knew wouldn't be there. He had to be sure. Among your collection of stationary and textbooks, he found a crumpled up packet of paper - your physiology exam from the other day.

He glances over it, eyes catching on the 62/100 marked in the red at the top. He clicked his tongue, so this is what had you so worked up yesterday. It really wasn't the worst score in the world, certainly not worth your panic and tears. Niragi's heart constricted remembering how you'd wailed in his arms afraid he was disappointed in you.

He could never be disappointed in you.

If by some miracle he does find you, and does get you back to your normal life, he's going to get you that fat tabby cat. Maybe even two of them.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Niragi climbed the stairs of the multi-story building that the two of you called home, feeling as though he just summited Mount Fuji. Why had he chosen a multi-story building again? He let out a breathless chuckle - you were constantly complaining about the stairs in this building. It would have made you grin like the Cheshire cat himself to see him huffing and puffing.

The only other place you'd go was home, right? You sure as hell wouldn't go to Chishiya's - even if his father was home (which he wouldn't be), he was a total asshole. Neither of you would find comfort there. No, you'd be looking for HIM, you needed him. He felt sick thinking about it. But also? Weirdly grateful. He had more time.

"There is nowhere you can be taken that I won't find you, I promise."

The man groaned, that promise was not exactly holding water so far. Unlocking the door, he slams it open, anxiety building in anticipation. It took him maybe five seconds to register that the house was empty, you weren't here. He called out for you anyway, delaying the inevitable. No response. He flops down on the couch, throwing his right arm over his eyes, shoes still on. He can't imagine it matters in a world like this. Niragi smiled fondly, you would have a field day with that, no rules.

Niragi knew he needed to figure out what was going on, so that when he did find you, he'd be able to help. To fix it. That's what he did, what he knew. But how do you start finding information in a world like this, that just has nothing?

Suddenly, a steady stream of bright white light flashes and filters through the large bay window across the room. Niragi bolts up and rushes to find the source, squinting against the brightness that his eyes weren't accustomed to. A sign spanning the full height and width of one of the large buildings near the city center had lit up from within the darkness. A beacon. Players this way?

It gave him more questions than answers, but it didn't look like he had any other options. Maybe you would see the sign too. This could be his best chance at finding you, you did love playing games after all.

You wouldn't pass up a chance to win, would you?

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

This was not the kind of game that Niragi had signed up for. He had been thinking cards, maybe video games, maybe even laser tag. No. This game? Coded Eight of Spades and titled The Hunt. How to win? Stay alive and eliminate everyone on the opposing team.

Eliminate, just a softer way to say slaughter. It had been a blood bath. Twenty people joined the game with them, ten per team. By the end, there were only three remaining - Niragi and two of his teammates. What was worse? He hadn't hated it. He was grateful that you weren't there, but he hadn't hated it.

The beast he'd long kept locked away now wide awake.

As he tried to catch his breath and wrap his mind around what the fuck that just was, he gave each of the men standing with him a once over. One was skinny, with flowing hair and an eerily perky attitude. It's giving cult leader. The other was large and muscular, hair cropped short. He looked like he took no shit from anyone - Niragi liked that.

[Game Clear - Congratulations]

Niragi scoffed at the cheerful voice, how strange to hear something that contrasted so starkly to his surroundings. He turned to leave, coated in layers of blood and sweat, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned back in irritation, finding the long-haired guy right behind him. Niragi was not in the mood to be touched.

"You were brilliant with the way you fought, you really know how to handle a weapon!" cult leader praises, causing Niragi to roll his eyes. Amazing what trauma can do for you, right? Like a caged animal trying to survive. "We want you to come with us. This is Aguni, my personal protection unit. You can call me Hatter," the man grins. Creepy. Niragi couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but the grave expression on Aguni's face told him that he wasn't.

He looks between the two men dubiously, "And why the fuck would I do that? I have better things to do than be a second personal guard to you." Caged animal.

Hatter doesn't react to Niragi's outburst, doesn't even flinch, "We're building a utopia, somewhere for players to go when they aren't playing games! Somewhere they'll be safe and can enjoy what time they have left," he explains, gesturing grandiosely. So it is a cult, then.

The man considers it for a minute, having learned from the other players about the Visa system; he would have to keep playing to stay alive. It wasn't just a one time deal. But no. He can't just go and play house with two guys he'll never be able to trust, he has an ACTUAL house to protect - you.

"I can't help you. There's someone I need to find," he mumbles, turning away once more. He misses the way that Hatter's face lights up at that, "ah, but there's strength in numbers, my friend! We have a few others already gathered, and more will be coming! You can come with us to The Beach, work alongside Aguni to make the utopia safe, and everyone will help you look for your missing person!"

Niragi freezes his retreat at this - the weird guy is right. There are games all over Tokyo, and you could have gotten pulled to any one of them. You could be anywhere. You could be dead. That thought haunted him like a ghost, but no. THAT wasn't a possibility he was willing to entertain.

Against his better judgement, Niragi agrees to return with the men to The Beach. As they make the trek back to Hatter's so called utopia, the man finds himself lost in self reflection.

It had been too easy for him to kill, it had felt too right. He hadn't even been afraid when the game started, just charged full of electricity. He wanted to tell himself it was because he knew he had to survive to win. That to win meant he could get to you. But it wasn't that, not really. Because as soon as his adrenaline was pumping in that arena, Niragi had changed. His vision was red. Angry. So angry. Like every person that entered his line of sight was his worst enemy. Like it would be a joy to kill them. Like his inner demons had finally clawed their way to the surface.

He glances at the two men conversing quietly beside him - he knew they couldn't be trusted, that whoever else they had gathered couldn't be trusted. Every person in this place will have a selfish and ulterior motive - animals that are backed into a corner will fight, guaranteed. The Beach would not be the safe utopia that Hatter was promising, no. It would be an even more dangerous and toxic place - men thirsting for the power and notoriety they hadn't had in the old world. It was not going to be a good place to be.

You would be brought there too, Niragi had just guaranteed it. Guaranteed that your safety would be in jeopardy at the hands of tyrannical villains. Why the hell had he agreed? Even without being given more information, Niragi already knew that you'd not be able to leave at your own will. That once you were there, you'd be stuck in a cage thinly veiled as your saving grace, they all would.

What the fuck had he been thinking? Niragi's brain was running at a million miles a minute. He had to think of all the possibilities. Stay five steps ahead of everyone else.

So maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world - they say it is best to keep your enemies closer than your friends, right? Even so, he needed to start coming up with a plan to get you out when things inevitably came crashing down. It would take some time, and hopefully you would have cracked the code to beating the games and getting home by then. But how could he ensure you'd not get hurt or be messed with while he worked on this? Having Chishiya at your side would help, no doubt. One icy look from him would drop most people dead on contact. Chishiya would be a powerful ally to his plan. But for the very persistent, even they wouldn't mess with a girl who has a psychotic brother, right? Just one game in, and Niragi was already certain he'd changed. He was sure that it wouldn't take much to play the part of a violent and unpredictable man, it was just channeling what he already had inside him. He was broken, but could he use this defect to an advantage?

Deep down in his gut, though, he was a little bit afraid to willingly unleash the beast. What if he lost his own game? How far would he let himself go before he admitted it wasn't just a game, wasn't just to keep you safe? That you would see what he had become and hate him forever for becoming the one thing he always promised not to be? Your father.

Niragi was giving himself a headache with all these thoughts. He really should have been sitting in therapy beside you all those years, instead of waiting in the parking lot.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

It's a hotel. The sanctuary that Hatter and Aguni were talking about was a fucking hotel. Some utopia. Niragi is impressed enough by the hotel having working electricity and water, so he says nothing. He didn't think there was much room for complaining in a world as unforgiving as this.

Not having much time to observe his surroundings, Niragi is pulled immediately into a conference room colored in tacky yellows and browns, warm yellowed light casting shadows around the room. Yuck. He notices the large meeting table hosts two people waiting patiently. A sharp looking woman with her hair cut into a bob, lips painted cherry red and sunglasses hiding her eyes. An interesting choice for night time. The man sat across from her has thin wired glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and has his hands clasped in front of his mouth. He might be the most serious looking person Niragi has ever seen.

He hears the hiss of spray paint leaving a can and looks to the far wall - there is a second woman with long black hair diligently working on painting it. With pictures of playing cards? She turns to look at the group entering the room, smile spreading widely on her face at the sight of Niragi. Eerie.

"Greetings, Citizens of the Beach!" Hatter booms from behind him ceremoniously, "Please join me in welcoming the newest addition to the militant corps - Niragi!" The three people in the room clap obligingly, nearly robotic in their movements. Well trained puppets already, then.

The man just stares blankly back at everyone, unsure of how to act when you're being presented like a trophy. A trophy covered in sweat and blood. Hatter doesn't mind the awkward silence, though, continuing on with his speech, "He was incredible! Truly! Helping us clear the Eight of Spades and not a scratch on any of us! He might have killed even more men than Aguni!" Niragi's eyebrow twitched, but he stayed quiet.

Hatter lowers his volume a bit, thank goodness, approaching the head of the conference table. "He's agreed to join us on the condition that we help him locate someone. I feel it will be easier if we're all looking when we're out in the city and playing games. So, who are we looking for, Niragi? A long lost lover, perhaps?" Hatter wiggles his eyebrows annoyingly, and Niragi has to take a deep breath so as not to drop him where he stands. It will be very hard not to murder this man.

He shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Trying to decide if he really should subject you to this place. What can he say? He's selfish. If he was going to be stuck here, he wanted to at least have you here too, "my little sister." Aguni's head snaps up at this, actually looking at Niragi as he describes you. Interesting. "She'll be with a guy, her best friend. He has shoulder length blonde hair and condescending eyes," Niragi continues, "He's a real smartass and he'll be protective of her. Don't try to cross him, either. He's smarter than you."

Everyone nods, committing the information to their memories, preparing to look for you the next time they go out to play. Hatter gestures for everyone to sit around the table, "Come! We have much to discuss! Our foundation for The Beach must be strong, unwavering!" For hours, they deliberate. Rules, the atmosphere Hatter wanted to cultivate, rankings, everything. Niragi's head was spinning by the end, and he truly regretted his choice; the saying about enemies be damned. He was so tired.

Finally, in what must have been the very early hours of the morning, Hatter dismisses the group. Niragi is the first to stand, stretching slightly and turning to go. To finally lay down after what was the longest day of his life. Facing the door, away from the other Beach members, he says callousely, "make sure everyone knows that if anything happens to her, I will burn this place to the ground."

Hatter nods slowly and somberly at this statement, still sitting with his hands clasped on the table. "The Beach?" He clarifies.

He shakes his head, turning back to meet Hatter's eyes in contempt, "Tokyo."

This was the only choice, the only way. Let the game begin.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

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Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) the tag list! Also, my asks and messages are open, PLEASE reach out, I would literally die to interact with you; ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[nicromancytarot]

HOW WILL YOU MEET YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE?

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides how you will meet your future spouse, pick a pile to see what they had to say!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1

For you guys I am getting the feeling that you’re at some type of work convention, possibly an important business opportunity. There seems to be a theme of money and work for this pile, I’m getting heavily that this is something that you either didn’t want to go to, or we’re reluctant to attend.

This mindset could have something to do with you possibly being nervous about what this opportunity has in store for you. Some of you may be at some big gala type event trying to build your reputation so you can get more business, or even a promotion. I see someone who is really on the edge of their seat with nerves, they keep topping up their wine glass. I can’t help but notice the outfit that they are wearing, for me I’m seeing a feminine figure, they’re wearing a long gold sparkly dress, apologising for almost knocking over a glass of wine as they pour themself another, this person does seem very anxious lmao.

I think you will be introduced to your future spouse through either a friend, or some older male figure that you work with. For a few of you, you will be really not wanting to meet anyone new during this time, you’ll be stuffing your mouth full of all these delicacies like pastries in order to not have to speak to anyone.

It’s at this point that this masculine comes over to retrieve you, for some it may be your boss, or manager, for others this will be one of your closest friends.

Your future spouse will take control of the conversation when the masculine leaves, they will be quick to bring you into an engaging discussion over possibly something to do with your job. You’ll be very confused as to why you don’t feel uncomfortable around this stranger, some of you may even notice that this is your future spouse since the spark will be there in an instant.

A select amount of you will be asked for your number, or email, something so they can contact you for “business”, this form of contact will absolutely not be used for business lmao.

PILE 2

You guys are really going through the ringer around the time that you meet your future spouse, for some of you, you maybe even be around the age of thirty at this time, the only reason I say this is because it could be your Saturn return which is influencing all this hardship. However, a lot of you will be pretty young, as I’m seeing someone going out to a club/party to go get absurdly drunk.

A lot of you will be going through a really hard breakup during this era of your life, this could be with a partner that you were will for a long while, as I’m getting the feeling that you though this was your forever person. I don’t think you’ve really given yourself much time to heal from this partnership before you go out clubbing to detach from the feeling of aloneness.

For a very select few of you, you may have been cheated on by your partner, and find out only a few days prior to this meet.

You’re going out to feel free and completely out of control of whatever is going on around you, some of your friends might even try to encourage you to leave before something happens, as I do see you trying to cope with your sadness by drinking yourself into oblivion.

A small amount of you will meet your future spouse, eye them up and then take them to the back or to your place, possibly even their place to have some intimate time. So yes, this could start of as a hookup.

Others of you are going to embarrass the hell out of yourselves, I’m seeing some tripping over and falling onto the lap of the other, in another scenario there’s someone falling down some stairs and some other person catching her just before she plummets.

This person may even stay with you to help you sober up lmao, you may confide in this person a little too much and cry to them about your failed relationship while in a drunken state. They could even hold your hair back while you’re busy throwing up #cute.

I’m seeing that they may ask for yours or your friends number so they can check on you later that night, or in the morning.

PILE 3

You guys are also going through something during this time, for some of you it’s a failed situationship which I think you were committed to for a long time, this seems to have come out of the blue, a completely unexpected betrayal.

Whoever the person you were dealing with is, they are the type to say that “labels are pointless”

Others of you were under the impression that you were in a relationship, but instead you were actually in a situationship and your person slept with or got with another person, this caused an uproar and you were quick to make the decision to leave.

For a very, very small amount of you, you possibly got up and left off to another part of the world, wanting to be completely disconnected from this person and their terrible sense of loyalty.

The rest of you are also travelling or on vacation in another country/state etc (depending on where you are stationed) I see that you may go into a store or to a market place and have to ask the clerk/seller for the price of the piece, or possibly you accidentally ask a random person, thinking that they are a worker.

Whichever way this goes, that is your future spouse. They will do their best to help you, if you mistook them for a worker, they will be sure to laugh it off.

I’m seeing someone that you just instantly click with, they may not be your ideal type, but the two of you just make so much sense together.

This person will either say something about your beauty, compliment your style or even the item in your hand, this will then turn into a long winded conversation about whatever it is they have brought up, some of you may give your number, others of you will leave and come back to the store/market place another day while on your trip and meet with this persons again.

Bonus: they have a gorgeous smile.