#he WAS doing the best with what he was given

[kaiijo]

ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao

HOW JEALOUS IS HE? — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral) notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigami’s character arc, nagi is taller than reader

most jealous: bachira, rin, reo 

bachira meguru ✶

bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those he’s close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesn’t want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship

bachira gets really clingy when he’s jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachira’s shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exit 

itoshi rin ✶

an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while he’s very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though he’ll never admit it. he’s not the most expressive or the most patient, and he’s sure that there are better partners for you out there. 

when rin’s jealous, it’s a silent but deadly thing. like when he’s locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his ‘competitor’ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, “what the hell do you want, you mediocrity?” usually the other person backs off after seeing rin’s bone-chilling glare but if they’re bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. it’s probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier  

mikage reo ✶

we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so it’s safe to say that he’s definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, he’s thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life. 

reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance — hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. it’s a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black card 

less jealous: isagi, kunigami, sae 

isagi yoichi ✶

he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it a lot. he’s pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesn’t mean that he isn’t jealous 

when isagi is jealous, he’s sulky. he won’t take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as ‘wet-cat pathetic’ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he can’t help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the cream 

kunigami rensuke ✶

i debated where to put kunigami since there are ‘two sides’ to him — pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. he’s not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more ‘villainous’ role in soccer, he won’t cross that line in your relationship. he’s still very secure in you and himself, but he’s more protective of your relationship. definitely a ‘i trust you/us but it’s other people i’m worried about’ kind of guy

when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he won’t act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. it’s 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesn’t work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person away 

itoshi sae ✶

i thought about putting sae in the ‘most jealous’ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because he’s sees them as so beneath him, he can’t be bothered half the time to do anything since they’re simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when it’s people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletes 

when he’s jealous, sae literally just pretends they don’t exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare — the only acknowledgment of their existence — and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesn’t work, sae doesn’t shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person

least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael

nagi seishiro ✶

simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagi’s height is already intimidating enough for most people so they don’t approach you when they see you two together but that isn’t a deterrent to everyone

when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesn’t help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, “can we go yet? why are you still talking to them?”

oliver aiku ✶

sigh… oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows he’s the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and let’s it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, he’ll intervene if it’s making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourself 

when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. he’s friendly towards the other person and but it’s not hard to uncover that it’s all fake, whether it’s from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply.  he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (“haruya? haruki? oh! you’re haruto! right, right, you know, they’ve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?”) 

michael kaiser ✶

kaiser in german literally means ‘emperor,’ and it’s no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that he’s not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes

when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if there’s one thing about him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, “liebling, you’re very charitable to entertain this insect, but it’s time to end this ruse.”

[illyrianbitch]

Pretty Little Shadowsinger

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Based off this request: I want something silly, like there’s just no explanation given. Cassian walks in on reader dressing Az in one of her dresses or something and Cassian is just like 👈🧍‍♂️😳😏😍

Warnings: fluff, just them all being a lil silly, az in a dress, mentions of boobies and swearing

Word Count: 1.3k

a/n: me making "drabbles" over 1k, also not fully edited so squint at any mistakes and pretend they arent there <3

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“Oh my gods,” you gushed, bringing your hands up to your face. “Look at you. Such a pretty little shadowsinger.”

Azriel tried to maintain his usual stone-faced demeanor, but a faint blush crept onto his cheeks despite his best efforts. He was suppressing back a smile, too. Not because he particularly loved the situation he was in, but because of how giddy you had been for the past hour as you shoved him in many of your countless dresses. The one he wore now was itchy and uncomfortably loose, and he felt a draft that he wasn't accustomed to. But he endured it, solely because of the joy it brought you.

Azriel raised an eyebrow skeptically, his lips twitching with the effort not to smile. “Uh huh.”

"Aw, c'mon," you insisted, stepping closer to him. "It really brings out your figure."

You maneuvered yourself between his wings, wrapping your arms around his torso and guiding him to look at the mirror. Balancing yourself on your tiptoes, you peeked over his shoulder to make eye contact with him. His shadows followed the movement, a dark mass now clustered above his other shoulder as if they, too, were watching in amusement.

He glanced at his reflection with a scrunched face. He’d seen this dress on you multiple times, had complimented you on the beautiful blue of it— one that perfectly matched his siphons. Had even ripped it off after events in an attempt to ravage you as soon as he could— that later fact felt slightly strange now considering he was the one wearing it. The dress in front of him, however, was quite frankly the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. Azriel realized now, more than ever, that the female truly did make the dress. But then again, you were the most gorgeous female in Prythian, so why was he so surprised that you made everything else just as beautiful?

"Should I be concerned I fit into this?"

You let out a small laugh, tightening your hold around his waist.

"You've always had a dainty ballerina waist, babe," you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes playfully in response, a small smile forming at the edges of his mouth.

Azriel turned his head to look down at you over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

"But don't worry.” You gave him another little squeeze. “It doesn't zip up in the back. Your boobs are too big," you added, your hands moving to jokingly squeeze his pecs.

Azriel scoffed lightly and lifted your hands off him, turning around to face you. He struggled for a moment as the fabric of the dress moved around his heavy boots and you bit your lip to suppress your laughter at the movement.

His eyes met yours as he finally faced you, gently holding your hands in his, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Shadows curled around where your hands met, cool and light. "Alright, those are muscles," he remarked teasingly. "Pecs."

You nodded, scrunching your nose playfully. "Uh-uh.”

"Real big, tough muscles," he continued, emphasizing his point. He leaned in closer to you.

"Boobs," you interjected with a grin. The face Azriel wore, now, could almost be interpreted as one of unamusement had it not been for the glint in his eyes and the subtle upturn of his lips.

He shook his head with a soft laugh. "What am I going to do with you?"

You pretended to contemplate for a moment, looking away in exaggerated thought. "Hmmm… maybe kiss me?"

Azriel’s eyes softened, a dimpled smile appearing on his face. “I can do that.”

He leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips, the moment melting away in the warmth of his mouth, in the way that your eyes shuttered closed. You let out a hum of delight.

Too caught up in the moment, you both failed to hear the sound of your door opening until it was far too late.

"Hey guys, have you seen—" Cassian's voice trailed off as he stepped inside, taking in the view before him.

It was Azriel who pulled apart first, neck snapping to face his brother at a speed so fast you barely blinked. You, however, opted to slowly turn to look at him, already preparing yourself for the look on his face.

“What-” Cassian paused, face falling into a confused scowl. He rebalanced himself, putting his weight on his other leg. He moved again as he placed his hands on his hips. Then once more, as he pointed towards Azriel with a lazy finger. “Whats, uh, whats going on here?”

“Get out,” was Azriels only reply.

Cassian pursed his lips, eyes narrowing at his brother. His gaze flickered to you for a moment, taking in your tightly pressed lips, clearly containing a laugh, and then he looked back at Azriel.

"Nice dress, loser, but I don't think you have the right amount of cleavage to pull it off.”

A low growl rumbled in Azriel's chest as he rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

You wondered if the growl was a reaction of embarrassment from your mate or if it was in response to Cassian alluding to your own cleavage. Both answers made you want to laugh.

But Cassian only grinned, a large amused smile— one that said he was just starting his strange, annoying torment. You sighed, mouth falling open into a smile despite your best efforts.

"Cass,” you said, bringing his attention to you. “You can't just barge into my room. What if we were naked? Right in the middle of having sex? Hmm?"

A hint of playful sarcasm laced your words.

Cassian's smirk widened. "Would've been a lot more normal than this," he responded, earning another eye-roll from Azriel and a snort of laughter from you.

"Get out," Azriel ordered again, his tone firm– and exasperated, almost– as he gestured towards the door.

You couldn't help but notice how Azriel's shadows seemed to shift, now positioned strategically at his chest where the fabric of the dress dipped to expose what would normally be your cleavage. You struggled to contain another laugh.

Cassian ignored him, hands gesturing between the two of you.

“So is this like a kink? Or is Azzie just wanting to get some better fashion sense?”

Azriel stared at him with a clenched jaw at the nickname, tossing and tired glance your way. You met your mates gaze with a small shrug and let out a small breath of amusement.

“Okay, c’mon,” you told Cassian, “He just lost a bet, that's all.”

You grimaced the instant the words came from your mouth, watching as Cassian’s eyes lit up. You looked at Azriel, watching as his face fell slightly. Oh no.

“You-” Cassian began to grin wide. “You lost a bet? To Y/n? You lost a bet, and now you're wearing a dress.”

Azriel tilted his head in warning. “Cassian.”

A second passed. And then Cassian was letting out a loud, boisterous laugh, eyes wide and wild. “Oh my gods.”

“Stop it,” Azriel warned.

It didn’t matter. Cassian instantly turned around, his loud voice echoing throughout the halls. “Az lost a bet! Az lost a bet and he’s wearing a dress! Rhys!”

“Cassian!” Azriel moved to chase after him, only to stumble over the excess fabric of the dress, the silk material wrapping awkwardly around his boots. You bursted into laughter, rushing to his side to help him up and bunch up the fabric to prevent any further struggles.

Your mate grumbled under his breath, words cursing the long dress and his brother. With a sheepish smile, Azriel gathered the dress in his hands and bolted down the hallway, cheeks painted in a dusty pink.

You watched him go, still chuckling at the absurdity of it all. As Azriel disappeared around the corner, still yelling a variety of threats at Cassian, his shadows curled around you and your shoulders.

"He kinda works that dress better than I do, huh?" you remarked to them, quietly enough that the words only filled the air near you.

The shadows seemed to ripple in amusement, as if laughing along with you at the scene.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

i added a lil explanation given cause lets be fr... cassian wouldnt bother az about the dress (hed probably wanna try one on too and nesta would be pissed hes ripping all of hers) but az LOSING at something....mans is never letting that go!!!!!

tag lists!

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[konigsblog]

tw: non-con, blackmail, smut. MDNI 18+ 🔍

with threats of exposing all your secrets, you felt almost inclined to suck your lieutenant off...

simon riley didn't care for the tears running down your cheeks, the burning sensation as another tear rolled over the raw and sensitive skin, with the sound of broken cries intensifying as you gag and choke around simon's lengthy cock, intruding further down your throat. he leaned back into his office chair and relaxed at the soothing and calming sensation of your soft, slick lips wrapped around his bulbous shaft. he gripped his phone firmly in his large, gloved hands to record the entire thing for himself and his gratification and gain. he'll use it as blackmail against you, to bash and ruin your name and reputation by threatening to leak your pathetic nudes and a video of you giving him a blowjob if you didn't comply.

“that’s it, sweetheart’- attagirl. do what you’re best at, chokin’ on my fat cock, yeah? swallow it all, every fuckin’ inch.”

simon taunts you playfully and cruelly, knowing you're unable to talk back or give him your bratty and snarky attitude like you usually would if given the opportunity. the sight of you on your knees and forced into a submission is engraved into his filthy and corrupted mind. simon finds a sick sense of satisfaction getting off to your misery, disgust, and displeasure. simon knows that once again, he has full and complete control and authority over you, and you can do nothing but sit there and take it.

you can scratch and slap him until you have his crimson blood underneath your fingernails, but it will only worsen his immoral, violent, and disturbing behaviour.

he will push your mouth all the way down to the base of his hairy, girthy cock and will thrust against your face slowly and sloppily until you're gurgling painfully and slobbering all over yourself as if you're drunk and intoxicated off of the taste of his bitter, salty semen and the thick, noticeable scent of his musky balls pushed against your chin.

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Fourteen

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: Stalking

Mafia AU

1.5K

Series Masterlist

"Happy birthday, Stinky."

Lando opened his eyes and let out a groan. It was far too early. He closed his eyes and placed his head back against the pillow.

A hand was in his hair, brushing through his curls. "Oh, you're so cute," she mumbled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Lacing her fingers through his own, she tried to pull him up. "C'mon, birthday boy. I made breakfast."

The promise of food was what coaxed him out of bed. As he stood, she threw a pair of pants at him, covering up his nakedness.

The moment she opened the bedroom door, the smell hit him. It was so damn sweet. Pancakes, waffles, French toast. It was a kids dream. "Holy fuck," he said as he walked into the kitchen. "Baby, what time did you get up?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't matter," she said as she turned back to the stove, where more was cooking. Holy shit, he was gonna be double his body weight by the time his birthday was over.

Lando strode over to her. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You didn't have to do all of this, baby," he whispered against her skin.

There was a moment of hesitation before she answered him. "I... this isn't like your normal birthdays, I'm sure. I still wanted to make it special."

He kissed her shoulder again. "You already have."

There was no hiding the smile she wore as she placed the newest batch of pancakes (American style this time) on the table. "Eat up," she said as she placed the pan in the sink. "I'll bring takeout home tonight, yeah?"

French toast halfway to his mouth, Lando paused. "Huh?" He asked, mouth still open, ready to take a bite. But then he put the toast back down. "What? It's my birthday," he said. "You can't leave on my birthday. That's the birthday boy's rules."

"Well, birthday boy," she began as she walked past him. "I've got work. Unless you wanna live in a cardboard box in the back alley."

For a second, Lando looked like he was contemplating it. She rolled her eyes as she headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day.

The way Lando missed her when she was working was unhealthy, he knew. But over the weeks, months (he wasn't sure how long it had been, all of the days seemed to blend together), he'd found ways to entertain himself.

She'd given him complete access to her laptop. Lando had felt so guilty when he'd hijacked it, downloading programmes and logging into software to get into contact with his employees. But the fortification of his house was coming along nicely, all because she had given him her laptop.

Any day now the house would be ready, he knew. Lando wanted nothing more than to see her roaming the halls. He'd show her around, show her the office (once he'd made it his own), show her the library, the garden. He'd take her up to meet his mum, and his dad now, too.

The thought of her in his house, in his space, helping make it his own, it stirred something in him. Something that had him grabbing her waist before she could walk through the door and head out to work. "Lan!" She said in surprise as he nipped at her neck. "Calm down, birthday boy. I'll be back in a few hours."

He watched her go. But the moment the door shut, he sat on the sofa and opened the laptop.

Nobody had wished him a happy birthday, but Lando wasn't surprised. That wasn't how it worked in a family. It was business as usual, maybe a private celebration with the head of the family's partner.

This was already the best birthday Lando had ever had. He logged into the laptop, typed several different and intricate passwords into the software he had to get into.

Will and Max had left him messages, detailing what they had done to the house. You'll need to come by today and get yourself onto the system, Will had messaged.

A groan left Lando's lips. He threw his head back for just a moment, eyes shutting. Her rarely used car was parked just across the street, and Lando knew where she kept the keys. If he left how he could be back before returned from work.

Getting changed into his suit (the one she'd cleaned up for him), Lando grabbed her keys from the hook beside the door. He pocketed them and made his way out to her car.

Lando hadn't been back to the house in months. It didn't look any different from the day he'd left it.

By the gate waited Max Fewtrell. He looked at Lando with a frown before using the keypad to open the gate. As the gate opened, Max climbed into the car. "This isn't yours," he said.

"Nope," Lando replied and began driving up towards the house.

Still, Max looked at him,clearly waiting for something more. Something that Lando wouldn't give unprompted. "You haven't run off and become a car thief, have you?" Max challenged. "Because that would be really bad for business."

Lando couldn't help but laugh as he pulled up to the house. "Nope, this beauty belongs to the love of my life."

Beauty. Max snorted at that. The car was anything but beautiful. "If we get everything set up today, you gonna move her in?"

Truthfully, Lando didn't know. If he'd been any other rich guy living in this huge ass house, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But he wasn't just any other rich guy. His world was dangerous and he wanted her away from it. If he could have kept himself away, he would have.

Max led him to the security office. He sat Lando down in front of a bunch of monitors and began setting up the security system, coding it to his passwords and prints.

It was a long process, one I will not bore you with. Lando was nearly falling asleep by the time he was finally finished. He checked the watch on his wrist and couldn't wait to get back to her apartment, back to her. His baby.

But he wasn't quite ready yet. With Max trailing behind him, Lando walked to his bedroom.

How many mindless hookups had he had in this bed? "Get new sheets," he said and Max wrote it down. "And clear out half of my wardrobe."

Because Lando really couldn't stay away from her, could he? After spending the last few months living together, living in bliss, he couldn't imagine not waking up beside her every day.

So, Lando had his staff readying the house for her to move in. It was incredible to watch happen, all for his baby. And, as soon as that was done, he headed home, headed back to hers.

***

Things had felt normal, leaving the office. He stopped into the shops, got the birthday boy some birthday chocolates, and got some takeout for the both of them.

It was her usual route home and not too far at all. Although she lived in a sketchy area, she'd never felt unsafe on her walk home.

Until tonight.

Maybe it was paranoia. Ever since Lando had told her, she'd been a lot more wary. But she'd never felt this before, never this terrified.

She sped up her steps and quickly glanced back.

The person behind her with his hands shoved into their pockets sped up their steps, too. They crossed the street when she crossed the street and followed her around corners.

When she got to her street, she was running. She kept the takeout and the shopping held tight to her body as she legged it as fast as she could to her door.

The person behind her started running, too.

As soon as she got through the door of the apartment building, she pushed her way through and kicked it shut behind her, buying her just a few more seconds.

She managed to get her own door open before the person grabbed her. Throwing her body against the door she shut it, locked it and put the chain across.

Her chest was heaving as she dropped her bags and wandered into the kitchen. As she poured herself some water, Lando came running out of the bedroom. "Baby, what is it?" He called as he strode over.

She was shaking when Lando pulled her into his chest. "You're okay," he whispered and ran his hands through his hair. He ignored the smashed bottle of wine by the front door. "I've got you, baby."

She didn't tell him what happened that moment, couldn't bring herself to speak. Lando held her until she could and, when she did, he spent his night by the door, watching through the peephole with his gun pressed to the wood.

Tomorrow he'd get her out of here, get her somewhere safe.

a/n: i'm so sorry i haven't updated this one in over two weeks, my focus has been elsewhere lmao

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[starsofang]

simon riley x blind!reader requested by @wareagleofthemountain <3 tw: none!

Simon never expected to meet you, nor was he remotely looking for somebody to enter his life and completely flip it around. He didn’t attach himself to people, and interactions with strangers with the intent of becoming more than that was a far-fetched idea for somebody like him. Being on his own was something he greatly preferred, and his task force were the only people he ever needed.

That was what he thought, anyway, up until you.

Even when you had accidentally bumped into him in the middle of a rundown convenience store late at night, you didn’t cower away from him. The sight of his mask didn’t cause you to turn away and mumble out a half-assed apology in order to leave his vicinity as quickly as possible, and at first, he didn’t understand.

That was until he noticed the furball standing next to you, staring up at him as if scolding him for getting in the way. The harness was glaringly obvious now that he looked at it, and he felt a bit stupid for not noticing it in the first place. You had a guide dog, with words boldly lettered indicating that you were blind.

“I’m so sorry!” you said, and he caught himself staring at you as you began rambling out genuine, sweet apologies, explaining that you didn’t mean to bump into him, that you hoped you didn’t hurt him by accident.

Simon didn’t get attached to people, no. But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice cute people who had hearts of gold that made his look rotten in comparison.

“S’alright,” he assured you, fighting so hard to push back the smile that threatened to curl up under his mask. Smiling meant he felt amused, and amusement meant he saw something in you that intrigued him. “What’s his name?”

When he asked about your guide dog, you practically lit up like a damn Christmas tree and oh, he was fucked. That smile wasn’t fair.

“Peanut,” you introduced affectionately, and when he glanced down at your dog, Peanut, the little thing looked almost prideful at that.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, and before he could detach himself from the conversation, before he could bid you farewell and leave you behind for good, he found himself speaking once more. “And yours?”

Simon never expected to meet you, nor was he remotely looking for somebody to enter his life and completely flip it around. But you did, and he found himself so engrossed in you, he couldn’t ever imagine life without you.

He thinks fondly of the day you two met, where he was in a mindset of pushing everybody around him away. He’d never given himself an opportunity to live a normal life, then you came around and had him seeking out the future.

The future was never a possibility until you, nor was it a possibility without you in it.

Simon never made you feel incapable just because you were blind. You had worked your way around the world just fine before him, and you’d continue to do it during him.

That didn’t mean he never tried his best, though. In fact, Simon took pride in helping you out with things as his way of showing his undying love for you. He may not have been the most affectionate person physically, but doing things for you was his favorite form of care.

Cooking was one of many. Simon was naturally a lover of cooking, so teaching you how to do it was something he took to almost immediately.

When it came to chopping vegetables, he’d gently guide your hands with his own, closed around the kitchen knife and showing you how to chop away without nicking yourself. If it was an excuse to hold your hand and watch your joyful smile light up your face, he’d never admit it.

He’d explain every step of a recipe to you, wanting to give you your independence of cooking on your own while also involving himself enough to be useful. He’d explain in soft ways how to properly cook meat, how to make sure it’s not undercooked or overcooked, guiding you through every part of the meal and watching with pride when you’d figure it out after a few trial errors.

Simon had never thought a meal could taste so good until it was cooked by the one you adore.

Reading was something you could do on your own. Your entire collection were books geared towards your blindness to help make it more accessible to you, but Simon quickly found out that he specifically liked reading for you.

It became routine in your apartment, the one that he was staying in so much that it might as well had been his as well, for the two of you to snuggle up close on the couch with a book you mentioned hearing about in those silly videos you listen to on your phone. His arm would tuck you into his side while the other held the book he’d gone out for, venturing to find (even if it took going to multiple stores), while Peanut laid content at your feet.

The books might not have been his personal favorite, but he’d spend every night reading them to you, his voice soft and quiet as they executed every page. You’d listen with a smile on your face, head resting in the pit of his shoulder, allowing the warmness of his voice send you into a peaceful serenity that almost always had you falling asleep twenty pages in.

Simon never minded that you’d fall asleep, and with a sweet kiss on your head, he’d string you along to bed, bookmarking the book for the next night when he’d read to you once again.

Being blind had never bothered you, and it was something you were never embarrassed or ashamed of.

Simon aided you in whatever you needed, but never made you feel an inkling of being broken or unable. He was passionate in the way he cared for you, while remaining stern in letting you be your own person.

The one thing that did bother you was that you’d never be able to see Simon’s face for all the true glory it was. The man you’d come to love over the time spent together was so close to you, yet felt so far when your brain would remind you that you didn’t know what he looked like.

The more time went on, the more you failed to grasp on to those strings, enough for Simon to take notice. When you finally had the gall to express this concern of yours, he understood completely why you’d upset yourself over it.

Thankfully for you, Simon had an easy fix for that.

“No need to worry yourself over that, sweetheart. Here.”

You may not have been able to see him, but you could feel him. Simon took your soft hands into his own, gently guiding them to cup his face. He bore himself naked to you, adorning no mask, all scars and rugged skin on display.

Your fingers traced along every feature of his, taking it in and mapping them out. You felt the thickness of his brows, trailing down to the flutter of his eyelashes, gently swiping your thumbs across them. You felt every bump of old, healed scars that indented his skin, every prickly stubble of his unshaven face.

You may not have been able to see him, but you knew he was beautiful.

Simon didn’t rush you. He remained patient and willing, face relaxed as you felt every crevice and divot. Your fingers were so careful in the way you handled him, like dealing with fragile glass, that he could’ve easily fallen in love with you a second time.

“You’re pretty,” you breathed out, hands halting their movements to lay flat on his cheeks. You were holding the world in your hands, and after getting a feel of what lay beyond it, you never wanted to let go.

Your words had dazed him, and he felt his mouth go dry as he stared at you, sinking in your own lovely features just as you did his own.

Simon had no words to speak back to you, but you knew what he was thinking without him having to say it – he loved you, more than any word could express.

Simon might not have been the type of person to get attached. You were the last thing he’d been looking for in life, but you came rushing into him like a flood, engulfing him in a forever calmness.

His body was permanently sinking in a sea of passion, and you were the life vest keeping him afloat.

i promise i didn't forget about u lovie! work was a bit crazy and my brain was a bit fried but it's here and i sincerely hope u enjoy it! thank u for the request, i love soft simon sm

[smileysuh]

comfort cuisine

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, breast worship/massaging, big dick Johnny, fingering, pussy stretching prep, 'it's finger licking good,' praise, dirty talk, masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, creampie, soft sex, longing, fluff, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.8k

🍭 aus. aged up/widower dad!John, best friends to lovers, Chef!John, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm so happy that people loved Line Chef Mark in my fic Real Talk, I received so many messages about giving Head Chef John his own love story, and this is what I came up with in the past four months :) it's a little different from what I normally do, but I wanted to continue with that 'slice of life' theme and venture into a plot line I've never tried before with widower/single dad John :)

Prologue

“I’m so sorry about this,” Johnny’s voice distracts you from the breakfast you’re making, and you turn around from the bacon to look at your friend. “I really wish I didn’t have to keep calling you and asking for favours like this-”

“Johnny,” you shut his rambling up with a pointed expression, “stop, it’s okay.”

“It’s not-”

“John,” you repeat, “seriously, we’re good. Given… the circumstances, I honestly don’t mind.”

The circumstances… neither of you can bring yourselves to say it. You know that if you say it… if you say ‘I don’t mind helping out since the death of your wife’ Johnny will just about break down, and he doesn’t have time to do that, not when he’s got to be at work for seven am, prepping the kitchen and getting ready for the day.

Even by calling this situation a ‘circumstance,’ you can see a half glazed expression overtake Johnny’s face. He’s frozen for a moment, and you take the time to study him.

You think it’s safe to say neither of you expected any of this to happen. 

You’d met him in culinary school- he’d been a young guy, a new dad who’d had a daughter at nineteen, with dreams of opening his own sandwich food truck, ‘like Subway, but gourmet,’ he’d always explained. 

Now, he’s a twenty four year old wreck, doing his best to climb the ladder in the food service industry, mourning the loss of his late wife, struggling to take care of his daughter, his dreams of a food truck long since forgotten in favour of chasing a head chef status to earn him enough of a salary to pay for everything in a one income household-

“Seriously,” your words snap the single dad back from his zone out, “we’re good. I’m making breakfast for Soonbok, I’ve got her lunch packed, I’ll take her to kindergarten, pick her up after- you just have to remember I have a night shift, gotta be at my own restaurant by five at the latest.”

“Five, yeah,” Johnny nods, swallowing thickly and toying with his daughters small pink backpack. “One day, I’ll be higher up on the food chain, and I’ll have better hours- I promise this isn’t a forever thing.”

“It’s an ‘as long as it needs to happen’ thing, okay? Don’t sweat it,” you assure him. “Here,” you take some of the crispy bacon out of the pan, putting it onto a scrambled egg bagel you’d prepared, “you need breakfast too.”

Johnny just about melts looking at the food. “You’re so good to me.”

You offer him a smile. “That’s what friends are for.”

One

Johnny swears his age is catching up to him. It’s not even four oclock and he’s feeling tired, letting out a groan as he says goodbye to the nightshift guys and heads to change out of his head chef attire in the staff bathroom. He’d turned thirty this year, and as he looks at his face in the mirror, he thinks he’s starting to see it.

On his way out of the back door, Johnny bumps into one of his line cooks. Mark Lee is pressed to the wall where people usually lean to smoke, his girlfriend closing him in with her hands on either side of his head. Back when she was expo, everyone used to call her Sunshine, but in her dealings with Mark Lee, Johnny’s come to realize that he’s the angel, not her. 

“Aren’t you two on the clock?” Johnny jokes as he walks past.

Sunshine pulls away from Mark, offering the head chef a grin. “We’re on a vape break.”

“Sure you are,” Johnny laughs, shaking his head.  “See you two back in there, better only be five more minutes.”

“Aren’t you done for the day?” Mark asks, confusion written on his face, along with lipstick marks that he’s hurrying to wipe off.

“Grabbing happy hour with a friend, but be careful Mark Lee, I’m always watching. Just because I’m sitting at the bar doesn’t mean I’m not judging you.”

Johnny can hear Mark mutter something under his breath, and Sunshine is quick to try to calm him down, but as Johnny turns the corner to head to the front entrance of the restaurant, he hears the back door open and close, signaling the end of the little ‘vape break.’

When Johnny joins you at the bar, you’re chatting with Jeno, and the sight makes an unexplainable emotion tingle up his spine. Out of all the front of house staff here, Jeno might just be the biggest manwhore, and he’s had a thing for cougars for a while, although there’s only a handful of years difference between the two of you-

“What are you guys talking about?” John asks, taking a seat on the dark green leather hightop stools surrounding the bar.

“Which virgin drinks are the best,” you respond casually. “I was going to get an iced tea, but Jeno convinced me to try one of your new virgin lemon ginger fizzes.”

“That’s called upselling, honey, you should know that, seeing as you’re in the industry,” Johnny grins.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who invited me here, so I figured you’d be paying.” You take a sip of your straw, looking at Johnny with a smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Are we getting food?” Johnny asks. “I might as well take care of that for you too.”

“I’ve got time,” you respond casually. “Don’t work for an hour, lets get our ‘nosh’ on.”

Johnny can only laugh at your antics, turning to Jeno, who’s watching with an amused grin. Everyone here knows you and Johnny are close, you come here often enough to see him, the two of you catching each other for a half an hour here or there between his day shifts and your night commitments. 

Johnny orders three appetizers off the happy hour menu, two things he knows you like, and one that’s more up his alley. “Make sure Yuta isn’t back there slacking off,” Johnny warns Jeno, knowing that two of the items will be coming from the ‘bottom end’ of the expo line, which is where Yuta runs the show after Johnny’s off.

“I’m sure he’ll pull out all the stops for our MVP,” Jeno grins, typing the order into an ipad. “Do you want a beer? We’ve got new rotators.”

“Don’t bother trying to upsell me,” Johnny scoffs. “House Lager, and don’t fuck around with the foam.”

“You run a tight ship here, captain,” you tease, bumping Johnny’s elbow.

“Speaking of-”

“Don’t try to recruit me to work here again,” you’re quick to warn.

“Damn it,” Johnny shakes his head, pretending to be quite upset about your rejection. He does feel it- he does think you’d be a great member of the team, and he’d love to offer you a dual head chef position, but it’s not in his power to do so, and that fact haunts him every day. Working for a company limits what he’s able to do, and sometimes, even at age thirty, Johnny still thinks about his dream to open a food truck, with you by his side. “No, in all seriousness, I wanted to talk to you about Soonie’s birthday.”

“Right, she’s turning eleven soon, that’s quite the milestone,” you grin, playing with your straw.

“I asked Doyoung if I could open early for her birthday, it’s a Sunday, I was thinking some of her friends and their parents could come in for a brunch an hour before we’re open for the public.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“Here’s the catch, Soonie was raised on your breakfast food. As much as I try to make things for her, and I hate to admit this, by the way, she always says your cooking is better. So I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come in that day and help me out with all of this. With your skills, I wouldn’t need Hyuck and Mark, it could be just us, and I’m sure we could make a birthday breakfast Soonbok would never forget. It would be like old times, like back when we were in culinary school.”

He loves the way you’re smiling at him, giving him space to rant. 

When he’s done, you cock your head to the side, only wasting one beat before you say, “I’ll do it.”

“Really? I don’t have to bribe you with money or anything?”

“Jeeze, have I ever asked you for money, John?” You smack at his arm, clearly slightly offended. “I’m doing this for Soonie… and maybe a little for you too.”

“Don’t go soft on me, killer,” Johnny teases. “Everyone around here’s too soft these days.”

“Says the softest dad I know,” you roll your eyes. 

“Shh,” he warns, “don’t say that loud enough for Jeno to hear.”

“As if everyone doesn’t already know.”

The two of you continue to chat and joke, a short while later, the head manager, Doyoung, shows up carrying food. It’s funny for Johnny to see Doyoung balancing two items on one arm, the third in the palm of his hand, but he supposes Doyoung started somewhere too, the same way John had. 

“VIP happy hour appetizers,” Doyoung sighs, setting the food down. 

“As opposed to regular happy hour appetizers?” you grin, immediately reaching for a fry.

“These are special,” Doyoung insists, “pretty sure Yuta spit in them.”

Doyoung is a pretty regal man, he’s not one to joke around- but for some reason, when Doyoung is in your vicinity, he loosens up a little. Everyone loosens up around you, you radiate a safe space kind of energy, the kind of energy that makes Johnny’s tense shoulders relax, his smile softening.

“Then I’ll be sure to eat all of this,” you respond. “Tell Yuta more spit.”

Doyoung shakes his head at you. “I’m sure Johnny’s tried to poach you already, but if you ever want a job, you can have his.”

“Hey!” Johnny laughs.

“I’ll consider it,” you grin.

“And I expect a plate of food for this brunch thing,” Doyoung continues. “I’ve heard nothing beats your breakfasts, even though you work nights.”

“Someone has been talking about me again,” you muse, eyes shifting to John.

“What can I say?” He holds his hands up in defense. “I speak only the truth.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” Doyoung insists. “Anyways, have fun you two, I’ve got food to run, our new expo girl isn’t filling Sunshine’s shoes too well.”

There’s a glint in Doyoung’s eye before he scurries away, and Johnny turns to watch the new expo girl practically short circuiting with take out orders on the line. 

“Poor girl,” you sigh. “It takes a certain kind of person to work in a restaurant.”

And an even more specific type to do what the two of you do as chefs.

Two

You’ve been on a few first dates this year, and this one is definitely a bottom three. You’ve had one drink, and you already feel like finding a way to slip out early. 

Initially, you’d been intrigued by dating a man in finance, but it’s clear now that you’re in two completely different worlds- and to make matters worse, he mostly talks about himself. He’s oozing this obnoxious confidence that makes you grimace every time you sip your drink, and not from the alcohol.

Your date is in the bathroom when Johnny calls.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you!” His voice warms your heart. “So Soonie is at a sleep over tonight, and I was thinking about making a Soonbok style menu for her birthday, all Soonie style names for food and such, planning a menu just for her- are you up to anything? Can I go through it with you?”

“Actually…” your gaze shifts to the bathrooms, “I’m on a date.”

“Oh.”

“It’s going so bad, and planning Soonie’s birthday would be such a better use of my evening. Listen, can you come pick me up? I’ll text you the address, you can come and call me when you’re outside, pretend it’s a family emergency or something-”

“You got it, I’ll be there right away.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re hopping into Johnny’s car, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“That bad, huh?” he asks.

“I don’t even want to talk about it right now,” you groan. 

“Here, distract yourself,” Johnny hands you a piece of paper, and you realize it’s a mock up menu for Soonbok’s birthday. “This is just a prototype, I was messing around with styles on some fucking site called Canva-”

“I didn’t know you were good at this sort of thing,” you gasp, taking in the intricate fonts and colouring.

“The site did all the work, trust me,” Johnny scoffs, pulling out into traffic. “Read it over and let me know what you think.”

You begin to scan the menu. There’s Soonie Side Up Eggs, and Boken Avocado Bennies, Soonbok Style Slapjacks and Suh Family Breakfast Sammies. 

“I’m shocked you came up with this many names related to Soonie and Suh,” you say.

“I spent my entire shift thinking about them in the back of my mind while I worked,” Johnny admits. “They’re not cheesy or anything, right?”

“They’re definitely cheesy,” you confirm, “but Soonie is going to love them. You’ve always been cheesy, John, and she adores you for it.”

You notice Johnny’s skin turning a little red, and it’s not just from the reflection of the traffic light illuminating the inside of his car while you wait for it to go green. 

You continue to study the menu, thinking hard the entire way back to Johnny’s house.

He’s got a modest three bedroom townhouse, with his and Soonbok’s rooms on the top floor, and the guest bedroom on the main floor with the kitchen and living room. The kitchen is, without a doubt, the heart of the home, and the two of you make your way there as soon as you’re past the threshold.

“I have some thoughts,” you admit, setting the menu down and pointing at one of the items. “Soonbok toast,” you announce, a twist on french toast, “it says here that it comes with a berry compote. I can tell that this is one of the dishes more geared toward others, because if this was really for Soonie, you’d know that your daughter doesn't even touch berry or apple crisps. She picks at the oat brown sugar on top, but doesn’t like cooked berries or fruits.”

“Yeah…” Johnny leans next to you, scratching the back of his neck. “That was the only one I wasn’t sure on, but for brunch, you have to have a french toast option, right?”

“We can still do french toast, but I think every menu item should be something she’d actually love, don’t you agree?”

“A hundred percent.” 

“What if, instead of berry compote, we do an brown sugar glaze type sauce?”

“That could be doable,” Johnny admits. “Should we try to make one now?”

“Can we do it in the morning?” you ask. “Honestly, I had one drink at the bar, I’m tired after a long shift, and I’m ready to have a few more drinks then pass out.”

“Drinks are a good idea,” Johnny grins, already heading to the fridge. “It will give me more time to think about how to make the brown sugar glaze, and I’ll get on top of that in the morning.”

“Exactly. Chef hours are over, we can just relax,” you insist, heading to collapse on his couch.

“Chef hours are never over,” Johnny reminds you, cracking open a beer and approaching so he can hand it to you.

“It’s one of the reasons dating is so hard in our profession,” you sigh, taking a swig of your drink.

“The hours make it tough,” Johnny nods. 

“So does the mentality,” you remind him. “We just… we think a little differently than others. We’re all a little too committed to our work.”

“That’s not always a bad thing, you’ve just gotta find someone you’re compatible with, someone who will appreciate that about you.” 

“Says one single chef to the other,” you laugh.

Johnny clinks his bottle against your own before taking a large gulp. “Touche.”

Three

Johnny is doing his best to work quietly, aware that the guest bedroom is just a short distance from the kitchen as he whips up eggs for the french toast batter. 

He manages to get all the way through to the cooking before you sleepily putter into the kitchen, adorned in one of his spare shirts for when you sleep over unexpectedly. You look adorable, but Johnny can’t bring himself to focus on you as he perfects the brown sugar glaze, careful not to burn it.

“Almost done,” he calls over his shoulder, “take a seat then try this with me?”

“It smells good,” you tell him, pulling out a chair at the island kitchen counter. 

“Thanks, honey, I was up last night thinking about it- had to wake up early to try it out.” He lifts the french toast onto a plate, dipping a spoon into the glaze to coat the breakfast. “I hope I didn’t wake you up?”

“The smell did,” you muse, grinning as he brings the french toast toward you, setting it down and opening a drawer to retrieve two sets of utensils.

The two of you cut into the toast, and you lift your fork. “Cheers,” you grin, and Johnny touches his food to your own before you both go in for a bite. 

The french toast is cooked to perfection, and although the brown sugar glaze is a little sweet for his liking, Johnny knows Soonie’s sweettooth will appreciate this adjustment to the recipe.

But when Johnny lifts his gaze to you, he sees apprehension in your eyes. “Did you like it?” he enquires.

“It’s really good, don’t get me wrong,” you assure him quickly, “I just think… maybe it’s missing one or two things.”

“Like what?”

“Mmm…” you cock your head to the side, “we both know Soonbok is a fan of nuts, peanut butter is her usual go to but she likes others too- what if we finely chop some pecan or walnut and add that in somehow?”

“That could work,” Johnny nods. 

“Do you mind if I take a crack at it?” you ask. 

Johnny laughs. There are very few people he’ll allow to use his kitchen, and luckily you’re the one at the top. You’ve been cooking here for so many years that he doesn’t have to guide you to anything, you stand up and immediately go in search of details to make your french toast masterpiece come to life, and Johnny happily takes a back seat while he finishes his own creation.

You go for a bag of pecans, dumping a small amount onto a cutting board before you begin to finally chop, leaving an array of different sizes of chunks. Soonie has always been a texture specific child, and Johnny loves how you incorporate all the little quirks of his daughter into your cooking like this.

In a pan with some butter, you begin to toast the nuts, getting prepped on your bread by using the already made batter he’d created earlier. As you put the toast into the pan and check the nuts, you cock your head to the side again, an endearing trait you do when you’re thinking.

“What about oats?” you suggest. 

“Do whatever you think is best,” Johnny encourages you, heading to the fridge to grab some orange juice and a nearly empty bottle of prosecco he’d opened for a recipe two nights ago.

Johnny watches you add oats to the browning pecans while he makes mimosas, and in no time at all, you’re plating the french toast, with a spoonful of the newly toasted additions, and a few spoonfuls of brown sugar glaze.

“There,” you announce, bringing the food to the table. “I added a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar to the buttered nuts and oats while you were making drinks.”

“Cheers,” Johnny grins, lifting a forkful of your creation to gently touch it to your own.

As soon as he bites into it, Johnny knows that this is a winner. The crunch of the nuts, and the oats- the added fats of the butter- the slight taste of cinnamon on the toppings- 

“Wow,” he breathes, leaning back in his chair. “Soonie really wasn’t joking when she said you’re the best breakfast chef in town.”

“Stop it,” you laugh. “You made the glaze! We did this together!”

Johnny goes for a second bite. “This is the stuff that will stick to your ribs,” he muses, not caring that the calorie content was just inflated by the addition of butter and nuts, “Good ol’ comfort food.”

“No, John, you’re a head chef now, this is comfort cuisine,” you correct him with a grin. 

Johnny swears your eyes are sparkling as you smile at him, and it makes his heart skip a beat in his chest. It’s times like these that he realizes just how smitten he is with you. You’ve been there for him, through thick and thin. There’s no way he’d be where he is now without you, and he’s not even sure if you know the full extent of it.

But at the same time, because you’re his rock, Johnny doesn’t want to overstep. He can’t lose you, not now, not ever. Soonie lost her mom to a car crash when she was three, and there’s no way in hell Johnny’s going to do something that could potentially make her lose you too.

Four

“Hey, you,” you grin, finishing pouring your glass of wine while you put your favourite chef on speaker.

“Hey, yourself,” Johnny responds, and you can practically hear the smile in his own voice. “Listen, uh, I need to ask you for a favour.”

“Shoot.”

“Two of my line chefs called in today before dinner- pretty sure they’re both hungover or something. Anyways, I’m staying, and it’s a busier night than projected- Soonie is done Girl Guides at seven, and I know it’s your night off, so if you’re busy I can find someone else, but-”

“I’ve got you,” you interrupt him. “Girls night with my favourite girl is a better plan than I had.”

“Really? You sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

“I’d say I owe you one, but at this point, I probably owe you more like a thousand.”

“And don’t you forget it,” you laugh, pouring your wine back into the bottle. “Take care of work, and I’ll take care of our girl.”

A couple hours later, you’re in Johnny’s familiar kitchen, making spiced popcorn and virgin cocktails. Soonie wants to be a chef, just like her dad, and she’s getting better every day. You love giving her soft instructions and lending a helping hand on bigger jugs of juice that her tiny fingers can’t quite hold.

Soonbok has a love for all things disney and music, and although this is probably the third time you’re watching it with her, the two of you settle in for the live action Ariel.

While Johnny is primarily a chef, back when you were in culinary school, he used to sing to himself when he was working. He was always quiet, but loud enough for you to listen to his beautiful voice. Like her father, Soonbok has a way with music, and you adore watching the eleven year old belt out Ariel songs.

She’s tuckered out from Girl Guides however, and about halfway into the movie she cuddles up next to you, her eyelids beginning to droop.

When Johnny comes home as the film is ending, Soonie is fast asleep, and you quickly motion at him to be quiet as he steps through the door.

Johnny is careful as he sets his keys and bag down, kicking off his shoes and putting away his jacket. He tiptoes toward the two of you. “How long has she been out?” he whispers.

“Half an hour or so,” you respond in a hushed tone. “How was work?”

He lets out a sigh. “Could have been better, but I’m home now. Should I get this little one to bed?”

You nod, watching the way Johnny bends down to gently lift his daughter off the couch. She stirs in his arms. “Daddy?”

“Hi, Soonie,” he beams down at her. “Did you have a good girls night?”

“Can y/n stay longer?”

Johnny’s eyes shift to you, and a smile forms on your lips. “I guess I can’t say no to Soonie, can I?”

“Here’s the deal, Soonie, y/n can stay longer, but I’ve gotta put you to bed. You had a long day, didn’t you, sweet girl?”

“Uh huh.” Soonie yawns, cuddling closer to Johnny’s chest, and the sight makes you melt.

Johnny carries her out of the living room and up to the second level. He takes some time tucking her in, and then he comes back down to join you, holding two beers in his hands. 

“So two line chefs called in, huh?” you prompt, tucking your legs up and making room for the large man on the sofa.

“I expected it from Haechan, but Mark’s generally pretty reliable. His girlfriend was on shift today, so I know he wasn’t skipping to be with her- I’m guessing they got pretty messed up last night.”

“They’re young,” you point out, accepting a beer from him. “We used to be young.”

“Used to be,” Johnny laughs, taking a swig of his drink. 

Looking at this man- this father, you realize maybe he never really got the chance to be young. At twenty five, he had a six year old, he wasn't running around blacking out and getting hung over, he was working his way up the employment ladder, dreaming about a better future for his daughter.

“You mentioned Mark has a girlfriend, I think I’ve heard about her a few times now, it’s interesting that she was in and he wasn’t.”

“I’m going to be honest, I love Mark, he’s a great kid- but, he can sometimes be peer pressured into things. Haechan has a hold on Mark unlike any I’ve seen, they bring out… interesting sides of each other.”

You laugh at the description, and it’s clear there’s more on Johnny’s mind, so you wait for him to continue. 

“It’s nice that Mark is young and in love, I can understand that- but at the same time, I just hope he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. Not that Soonbok is a mistake, of course- I just mean that… life is fragile. You think you’re going to be with someone forever, and then you’re reminded of how frail things can be.”

You frown at his words. Even after all of these years, Johnny still holds so much pain about his lost wife. You want to do your best to help Johnny in every aspect of his life, especially emotional, but this is a topic you never know how to approach. He’s right for grieving, his ex was his first love, his true love- how is there anything you could ever say to make him feel better about her passing?

You open your mouth, only to close it, and Johnny watches you intently. Sometimes he looks at you, the way he’s looking at you right now, and you wonder if he feels the same level of connection with you that you feel with him. You wonder if he wants you to kiss him, if a kiss would make him feel better, if it would - if even for a moment - help him forget about the pains he’s faced in his life.

But it’s because of the pains he’s faced that neither of you can close the distance, you’d like to think about it that way at least. Even after all these years, it’s still too early, so you simply reach out and gently squeeze his hand.

Johnny offers you a smile, and you’re glad that in some small way, maybe you’ve helped him.

Five

It’s a pretty slow day after the lunch rush, so Johnny is sitting in the back office with Doyoung while they pick at their food. They often eat together once things settle down, and today is no different. 

What is different, however, is the topic of conversation Doyoung brings up. “How’s y/n doing?” he asks, taking a bite of his salad.

“She’s good. She helped me lock in a french toast recipe for Soonie’s birthday, so that was pretty helpful.”

“That’s nice,” Doyoung nods, “but I’m more interested in what’s going on between the two of you.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asks, looking up from his schezwan beef noodle bowl. 

“I mean, you two have been friends for a long time. There’s a lot of history there.”

Johnny’s shocked that Doyoung is bringing this up. Out of all of the chef’s coworkers, he had not pegged Doyoung as being the man to bring up relationship gossip, and the whole thing takes him off guard for a moment. 

“We’re good friends,” Johnny says finally.

“I know that,” Doyoung rolls his eyes. “What’s holding you back from being more? It’s clear how much you two care about each other.”

Johnny looks down at his food, using his chopsticks to play around with a red pepper. “We do care about each other,” he confirms. “She was there for me with Soonie when no one else was, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

“So why don’t you tell her how you really feel about her?” Doyoung presses. “It’s obvious in the way you look at each other- a smart woman like y/n, I’m shocked she hasn’t figured it out for herself by now.”

“I think, because of our history, there’s this… invisible line,” Johnny tries to explain. “Things are good the way they are now, if I try to mess with that… I could lose everything. And I wouldn’t just be losing it for myself, I’d be losing it for Soonie too.”

Doyoung lets out a breath, turning to face Johnny. “I get that it’s hard, but, you’ve got two paths ahead of you. If you give it a try, it could either end well, or badly. But if you keep yourself in this weird middle friend zone place, it’s like you’ve created a house at the crossroads, and that will never lead you anywhere.”

“When did you become so wise about love?” Johnny scoffs.

“Sumi has helped me with it,” Doyoung admits. “I met her here, we started off as friends. I’m her manager, so I had my own reasons for never taking the leap. I had my own house at the crossroads.”

“What made you finally give it a try?”

“She was there for me when my dad died,” Doyoung frowns. “Anyone can be there for you when things go badly, but when a woman truly gives her all to making things easier on you- it’s not something that should be ignored. After everything you and y/n have been through, you both deserve to give it a try.”

“How are you so sure she’d want to give it a try?”

“Because she looks at you the way you look at her.”

Six

Cooking with Johnny might just be the easiest thing in the world. You’d thought that, due to it being Soonie’s birthday, maybe tensions would be high, but as the two of you collaborate in the kitchen, bumping hips and easily communicating, things feel as they always have: easy. 

Within fifteen minutes, the two of you have seamlessly cooked thirteen breakfasts for yourselves, Soonie, her four friends, and six adults… well, seven, if you include the Boken Avocado Bennies you’d whipped up for Doyoung.

While there are a number of staff puttering around doing pre-opening tasks, it’s Doyoung who takes the time to help you and Johnny bring all the food to the table. You love watching the stoic manager announce the Soonie-inspired brunch food names, and it’s clear that Soonbok is also enamoured by the shift in Doyoung’s countenance. 

Before everyone begins to eat, you take a group picture on Johnny’s phone, loving the massive smile on Soonie’s face.

As you’re about to sit down, Johnny asks one of the other moms to take a picture of just you, him and Soonie. With the two of you on either side of the birthday girl, you can’t help but think that this feels like a family picture. 

In a way, Johnny and Soonie are your family- but in the same breath, you’re cognisant of the fact that - had circumstances been different - it would be Soonbok’s mom in this picture right now, and not you. These are shoes that can simply never be filled, no matter how much you wish you could.

The thought isn’t one you like to hold on to, and it’s a thought that’s popped into your head innumerable times throughout the years. Taking your seat next to the birthday girl, you watch her try the french toast, her eyes lighting up.

On top of her own food, Soonie picks at yours and Johnny’s. Both of you are more than happy to share so she can taste more than just one of the special items Johnny had concocted for her. 

Brunch is full of laughter and girlish giggles that light up the deserted restaurant. It’s clear how important Johnny has made Soonie feel today, and that brings you more joy than you could ever express out loud. 

As things wind down, you and Johnny begin clearing plates to the dishpit. The two of you are shoulder to shoulder, and you’re overwhelmed by an odd sense of longing that you can’t quite describe.

Johnny turns to you, mouth opening as if he’s about to say something- but as servers pass behind you, it’s clear that there’s no room for him to say whatever it is that he wanted to say to you.

You clear your throat, watching a line chef pop up next to Johnny to stack the dishes for dishwasher prep. “You should go back to Soonie,” you tell him, “I’ll finish up with the cleanup.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Of course, it’s Soonie’s day, go be with her.” You offer him a smile, and Johnny reacts by reaching out to squeeze your hand.

Without another word, he leaves you to your thoughts, and the feeling of need that’s growing steadier and steadier in your chest.

Seven

Johnny doesn’t know quite what to do with himself. Soonie’s birthday was yesterday, and today's day shift had been quite slow. He’s feeling restless with Soonie over at a friend’s place tonight, and he tries to drown himself in liquor- whether it be to chase away the loneliness or to gain courage, he’s not sure, but by nine oclock, Johnny finds himself dialing up your number.

“Hey, you,” you answer.

“Hey, yourself,” he grins. “Watcha up to?”

There’s a pause, and Johnny can hear people in the background. “I’m out actually.”

“Oh?” Johnny’s spirits dampen. “Out on another hot date?”

“Not so hot actually.”

Johnny bites at his lip. “I’ll let you go anyways.”

“It’s alright, I stepped out when you called. Do you need something?”

“I guess…” Johnny takes a breath. “I got into the liquor-”

“Say no more, I’ll be right over.”

Eight

“So…” Johnny grins as the two of you head into his kitchen, “how did the date go?”

You scoff, watching him pour a glass of wine. “How do you think it went? I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“I mean… I am pretty hard to compete with,” Johnny flashes you a sexy grin… and proceeds to knock over the glass of wine. “Shit- fuck!”

“Listen, you go take a seat, and I’ll clean this up,” you laugh, watching him lumber toward the sofa. You make quick work of the mess, and when you’re done, you approach him in the living room.

“Come sit,” he prompts, patting the spot right next to him.

“Someone’s feeling awfully cuddly today,” you giggle when he grabs your hand to pull you down where he wants you, leaving no space between the two of you.

“What can I say? I’m a cuddly drunk.” 

“I can see that,” you note, assessing him.

His gaze dips to your lips, and your skin tingles. 

“Thank you for yesterday,” he says quietly.

“I told you, I was happy to help for Soonie’s special day.”

“It’s not just that,” he insists, “you’re always happy to help. I seriously-” he swallows thickly, “I seriously couldn’t have done anything I’ve done without you.”

“Don’t be so self deprecating,” you warn him, gently pushing his shoulder. “You’d have gotten anywhere you wanted, with or without me.”

“I still don’t have a food truck,” Johnny pouts.

You’d thought maybe he’d given up on that dream- although you’ve held onto hope for Johnny, more than he knows. “Now that you mention it, actually,” you say, pulling out your phone, “I’ve been looking at food trucks for sale online for a minute, and-”

Johnny’s gaze softens. “You’ve been researching for me?”

“Just a little,” you brush it off, trying to find the listing that you’d saved three days ago. “I found this decent looking one at a good price-”

“I think I love you.”

“Huh?” you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it,” Johnny says immediately, and your heart sinks. “I don’t think I love you, I know I do.”

“John, please, that’s the liquor talking.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he insists. “Look, you’ve always been there for me. We work together- and not just because we’re both chefs. Something about this,” Johnny gestures between the two of you, “it just works, and I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”

“Yeah?” You decide to play a little coy, seeing as this confession is coming from a drunk man. “And who else sees it?”

“Doyoung, for one.”

“Doyoung?” You let out a laugh. “Have you been gossiping about me with him?”

“I swear I didn’t bring it up,” Johnny defends himself. “Doyoung said I look at you with love, and that… that you look at me the same way.”

“Well… maybe Doyoung needs to get his eyes checked?”

“Don’t play with me,” Johnny begs, pulling you closer. “There’s always been a line between us, one we’ve both been too scared to cross… but, I think-”

“Now you’re crossing it,” you finish for him. “What made you want to do that?”

“Soonie’s birthday,” Johnny admits. “Our little family picture.”

“Our family picture,” you repeat, melting inside at the fact that he’d viewed the photo in the same light you had.

“Yeah.” Johnny nods. “Our family. Mine, and yours.” 

His hand finds your thigh, and you can’t help but reach out to cup his cheek, stroking your thumb across his angular bones. “I’m not sure what to say,” you admit.

“We don’t have to say anything,” Johnny assures you. “Just kiss me, and we can forget about the world for a minute.”

Your heart is racing in your chest as you hesitantly close the distance between your lips. It’s a gentle first kiss, but it soon grows hungry, and you’re not sure if that’s due to his appetite or your own.

His tongue swipes across your lip, and you open your mouth for him, letting out a soft sigh as you get lost in the feeling of the man who’s been your best friend for years.

His hand on your thigh squeezes, and before you know it, he’s pulling you onto his lap. Your knees dig into the sofa on either side of him, and you’re hesitant to fully sit down- a kiss is a kiss, but grinding on Johnny is something else entirely.

“Johnny,” you whisper, throwing your head back to look at the ceiling, wondering how you got into this situation.

“Yes, honey?” He presses kisses along your throat that have tingles shooting up your spine.

“You’re drunk,” you say finally.

“If I’d known you liked me too, I would have done this ages ago.”

“It’s not about that,” you laugh. “It’s about the fact that you’re drunk, and I want you sober when we do this.”

“Do what?” he teases, squeezing your hips, his tongue grazing over your jugular.

“You know what,” you retort with a huff. “Look, you’re right about the line neither of us wanted to cross.”

Johnny pulls away from your throat, looking up at you. “Huh?”

“The line. The unspoken line. All these years, something has been there, between us- but, we both respect your wife, we respect Soonie- I think… I think the time is right for this now, well, not right now, but, once you’re sober again.”

“You’re right,” Johnny concedes. 

“How about we watch a movie, then we can go to sleep.”

“You’ll stay over?” There’s a boyish excitement in his voice and it makes you melt.

“Uh huh.”

“Will you stay in my bed with me?”

“Just for cuddles, but only if you promise to drink a bunch of water before we sleep, I don’t want you hung over in the morning.”

Johnny grins. “You got it, honey.”

Nine

Johnny wakes up next to a warm body, and it’s the first time in years. Your presence is the only thing that proves to him that last night wasn’t a dream, some twisted fantasy- No, you’re real, and you’re here, and you’d kissed him back-

He stays cuddled with you for a while, basking in the glow of being in love, truly in love, and finally able to admit it to himself. It’s been so long since his wife, and part of him had forgotten the feeling- maybe that’s why it had taken years for him to realize how much he adores you.

After a while, Johnny decides he needs some water- and he wants to make breakfast for you. He wants to spoil you the way you spoil him.

Johnny is careful as he exits the bed, taking one last look at your peaceful face before heading down to the kitchen.

It’s easy for Johnny to get lost in the act of cooking, focusing on bacon at first before switching to eggs. As it was a few days ago, the smell of food wakes you up, and soon you’re joining him by the stove.

“Watcha making?” you ask, wrapping your body around his.

God, the feeling of you is- fuck, he can’t even describe how good it is.

“Wanted to make you breakfast,” he tells you, plating your food first. Once he has you settled and sitting, he quickly throws together a breakfast sandwich for himself.

“You and your sandwiches,” you laugh, digging into your bacon and eggs.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, coming to join you.

“So well,” you tell him, bumping your knee against his own, “even if someone snores.” 

Johnny can only laugh, he’s dealt with Soonbok complaining about his loud snoring for years. “How are the eggs?”

“Good!” 

You’re so chipper this morning, and he loves it. Johnny takes a bite of his sandwich- you’d cooked the eggs at the brunch birthday two days ago, and he realizes Soonie was right. “Your eggs are better,” he muses.  

“I’d planned on making breakfast for you, but you jumped the gun, big guy.”

“I wanted to pamper you for a change.”

“Cooking is my love language,” you tell him. “I’m excited to make you breakfast more often.”

“I like the sound of that,” he smiles.

“When’s Soonie come home?”

Johnny checks the clock on the stove. “In an hour or so.”

“As much as I’d love to see her, I think maybe it’s better if I’m not here when she gets home,” you say thoughtfully. “She’s a smart girl, I bet she’d be able to tell that something is up.”

“She definitely would,” Johnny confirms. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you that much if you stick around.”

You giggle, reaching over to squeeze his knee.

“How are you feeling about last night?” Johnny asks.

“I’m feeling good, how about you? Still remember all of it?”

“In perfect detail,” he breathes. “Although… a little reminder wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t?” you tease as he leans in, cupping your face so he can press his lips to your own. 

God, you’re such a good kisser. It just works. It’s hard for him to even pull away, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Take me out on a date,” you say.

“Hmm?”

“A date,” you repeat. “Just because we’ve known each other for years doesn’t mean we can skip steps.”

“I respect that,” Johnny nods. “I’ve got a busy week, and it will have to be a night where Soonie is out, but… we’ll make it work.”

Johnny’s so certain it will work, because things between you have always worked, and he can’t wait to see where this takes you. 

Ten

It’s been a week, but finally Johnny found time for that date night. Soonie is out with friends again, so it’s the perfect opportunity to get some alone time with the man who’s been on your mind constantly.

He picks you up in his old Dodge truck, compliments your outfit, and refuses to tell you where you’re going or what the plan is.

When you arrive back at his place, you’re honestly not even surprised. “Let me guess, you took me to the best chef in town?”

“You know all my lines, honey,” he grins. 

“So, chef, what’s on the menu?”

“I thought maybe you’d take a seat and let me cook for you.”

“As if I’d take a back seat,” you scoff. “What are we making?”

Johnny had made hand made fettucini before he’d come to pick you up. You let him take lead in making a white wine, garlic cream sauce with button mushrooms, spinach and crispy prosciutto, but you insist on being his sous chef and taking care of the chicken.

The smell is heavenly, and as he finishes it all off with fresh herbs, you think you start to drool a little.

“For a guy who claims to specialize in sandwiches of all things, you’re pretty good with italian,” you muse as you take your first bite and nearly moan.

“I’m pretty good with a lot of things,” Johnny laughs. 

“Look at you being all cocky.”

“You love it.”

He’s so right.

The two of you chat and laugh together while eating. It’s one of the best meals you’ve had in a very long time. When dinner is over, Johnny suggests a movie. As the two of you settle on the couch, he prompts you to come closer, and soon, the two of you are cuddled together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He’s so warm and comforting- you find yourself dozing off a little, although, maybe it’s something of a food coma from all the pasta.

Johnny brings his lips to your ear, and you shiver when he asks, “Should I carry you to bed, honey?” 

Part of you wants to tell him you’re not Soonie and you won’t be calling him daddy any time soon- but another part of you wants to lean into this. It’s been so long since you felt like you could be babied, and if anyone is going to bring out that side of you, it’s going to be Johnny.

“Won’t I be too heavy?” you ask, cognizant of the stairs he’ll have to climb.

“Have you seen my arms? I won’t drop you, honey, I promise.”

You allow him to scoop you up, and you feel like a giggling school girl again as he takes you up to his room. “Do you have a shirt I could wear to sleep?” 

“Choose anything,” he tells you. “When you’re changed, you can join me in the bathroom, I went and got a toothbrush for you.”

Before you know it, you’re cuddled in Johnny’s bed, wearing panties and one of his big shirts. He’s pressed to your back, his mint tinged breath warm on the nape of your neck. There’s no pressure for sex, no pressure for anything other than the situation at hand, and you can tell you’re both very content with it. 

Soon, you’re drifting off to sleep in the arms of a man who’s been a cornerstone of your life.

It’s a deep, dreamless sleep, and it passes in the blink of an eye. You awaken to light beaming through his window, a warm body behind you, and something hard pressed against your ass.

You laugh to yourself- morning wood isn’t something men can help. Even so, you stir a little, adjusting to get more comfortable.

Johnny releases a sleepy groan.

You stay still, not wanting to wake him, but it feels like the damage is already done when he wraps you tighter in his embrace. “Morning,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you respond lightly.

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to shift, and you feel his body tense when he does so. “Fuck,” he goes to pull away, “sorry, I uh-”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, grabbing his forearm so he can’t move away, “keep cuddling me.”

Johnny returns, flush against your back, his hard cock pressing even more firmly to your ass.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” he asks.

“More than okay with it.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward, pressing his lips to your throat. “Are you okay with this, too?” Johnny mumbles, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

“Uh huh,” you sigh, wiggling your bum back against him and arching your neck to give him better access.

His hand finds your hip, gently squeezing you through the shirt you’re wearing. His lips are soft against you, but there’s a need in his motions too, and he begins to grind against your ass.

You let out a groan when he finds the sweet spot just below your ear, and he licks at it, making you moan louder.

“Are we going to do this?” he asks, nipping at your earlobe.

“Fuck it, yes.” You can’t hold back anymore, you turn in his embrace, quickly mounting him and smashing your lips to his own.

Johnny grins into the kiss, holding your hips while you settle on top of him, grinding down against his clothed cock while your tongues begin to clash.

His kisses have you seeing stars, your mind going blank except for him.

Soon, his hands slip under your shirt, slowly grazing up your sides. “Can I take this off of you?” he asks.

You open your eyes to look down at him, studying his pretty lips and his chocolate eyes. 

Instead of responding, you sit up, grabbing the hem of the oversized T and lifting it over your head, tossing it to the side and baring yourself to your best friend for the first time.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, gaze falling to your tits. His hands stay at a respectable location on your hips, and you grab one to lift it to your breast, adding pressure so he knows he’s allowed to give you a test squeeze.

Johnny begins to massage you, and you throw your head back, releasing a groan, swiveling your hips against him.

His thumb brushes over your hardened nipple and you mewl loudly, core throbbing from the stimulus.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, propping himself up so he can take your nipple into his mouth.

You cup the back of his head, keeping him on your chest while he worships you. His other hand finds your neglected breast, gently pinching and massaging while he sucks on your sensitive bud.

“John-” You don’t even know what to say, you’re entirely wrapped up in him. 

You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. 

Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more. 

Johnny pulls away from your breasts, cupping the back of your head and drawing your lips to his again. “We should take our clothes off,” he suggests.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all week,” you laugh. 

He helps you off of him, and you lay next to each other for a moment, both fumbling to get naked. As soon as you’re fully nude, Johnny rolls on top of you, slotting between your thighs. His lips find yours again, and his free hand trails down your body, teasing through your pussy lips.

“You’re already so wet,” he muses.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” you admit.

“Me too,” he assures you, capturing your mouth with his own while he teases a finger into your hole. You push your hips up, wanting more, and you latch onto his strong shoulders, moaning into the kiss.

Johnny’s a big man, and his finger is enough to have you wriggling below him. “Easy, honey,” he grins, looking down at you with eyes full of adoration. “Gotta stretch you open.”

“Fuck,” you groan- does this man read erotica in his spare time? How is a thirty year old, single dad, this well versed in dirty talk even though you’re pretty sure he hasn’t been laid in forever?

He adds a second finger, curling them to find your gspot. As he pumps his hand, lips pressed to yours in a mad frenzy, you can hear your wetness with each motion. 

It feels unreal- have fingers alone ever done a number like this on you?

Johnny twists his hand a little, knuckles dragging along your sensitive inner walls. It’s like he’s trying to carve out a space for his cock, although, you know now that this won’t be enough. He’s thick and throbbing on your hip, his length so large you think he might just blow your entire back out when he slips it into you.

Even though you’re eager to be - for lack of a better word - impaled on him, Johnny takes his time kissing you, his fingers continuing their motions. “Wanna rub your clit for me?” he asks, moving his mouth to your neck. “I want to watch you cum.”

Your toes curl at his words, and you bring your hand to your pussy, drawing circles on the sensitive bud while he continues to stroke your inner walls.

Your core throbs around him, whimpers of pleasure escaping you. 

“You’re being so good for me, honey,” Johnny tells you, making your insides flutter even more from the sincere words of praise.

Cumming hasn’t always been the easiest thing in the world for you. There are many partners you’ve had who never had the wherewithal to get you there- but somehow, Johnny just knows you. Or maybe, it’s because he knows you- because you feel safe with him, that you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

It also helps that it’s your own fingers on your clit, you know exactly what you like, what pressure, what motions- the digits working you open are just an added bonus that have you seeing stars as you make your way to your peak.

“John,” you gasp, tits pushing up toward his chest when your back arches. “I’m gonna-”

“Let it out for me,” he encourages you softly. “You deserve it.”

“I deserve your cock,” you whine, shocked at your own blatant neediness.

Johnny only laughs. “After,” he assures you, “I promise.”

A few more circles of your clit has the cord in your stomach snapping, your orgasm washing over your like warm summer waves. Your entire body tingles with delight, gasps leaving you as your pussy fully throbs around his fingers, your clit pulsing with desire.

“So pretty,” he whispers, bringing his lips to yours.

From the way he smiles against your mouth, you can tell he doesn’t care that you’re moaning so much he can hardly kiss you.

It’s a closeness you’ve never felt before, and he helps you through your orgasm until you’re pulling your hand away in favour of grabbing his shoulders.

Johnny takes his fingers out of your core, and you watch under hooded eyelids as he brings them to his lips, sucking them clean and releasing a groan. “Everything you do tastes better than what I bring to the table.”

You laugh. He’s such a fucking chef.

“Some might even say it’s…” you stifle a giggle, “Finger licking good.” 

Johnny lets out a laugh, eyes lighting up. God, you love this soft, laughter infused sex- you’ve never experienced anything like it.

You grab the back of his neck, drawing his mouth to your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and there’s something so erotic about it. He moans loudly, rubbing his cock between your wet pussy lips.

The tip of his cock is stimulating your clit and it sends jitters through you. You can feel how soaked you are, and you wouldn’t be surprised if this ended with a wet patch on his bed from how turned on you’ve been throughout this whole experience.

Johnny seems intent with grinding against you, but you’re lacking patience today, and you reach between your bodies to grab his cock.

Johnny breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours and looking down at where you’re gripping him. He doesn’t say anything, his gaze shifting back to your own. There’s a question in his eyes, and you’re both aware that this is the final line. Once you cross this, there’s no going back.

You bring his cock to your wet hole, and with very little effort, you help guide the head of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans immediately, fists bunching at the pillow on either side of your head. “You’re so tight- are you sure you’re good with this?”

“You’re just- fuck,” you whimper as another inch sinks into you, “you’re just big!”

“Maybe you’ll have to get used to it,” he grins, pushing deeper.

You moan loudly, clawing at his shoulders. “Maybe I will,” you gasp. 

He brings his mouth close to your own, until your lips are just brushing, eyes meeting when he says, “I’m looking forward to it.”

As he kisses you, he pushes fully into your warm, wet, throbbing core. His hips are flush to your own, and you swear no one’s ever been this deep inside of you.

Your legs shake on either side of his hips, body suspended in this odd purgatory-like place between extreme pleasure, and an uncomfortable feeling of being stretched more than you’ve ever been stretched before.

“Are you good?” he asks, lips moving to your cheek while you struggle to aclimatize to his cock.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly. “Just- fuck me, it will be easier.”

“If you say so, honey.”

The first thrust has your toes curling, eyes clenching shut with pleasure. A sound that’s never come from you before leaves your lips- a sound you’ve heard in porn, but always thought was an overexpression.

Your fingers dig into Johnny’s shoulders, and he holds you close, mouth finding your neck while he begins to fuck you.

Although, would this be called fucking?

The fluidity of his motions- the way you’re clinging to each other- it feels more like making love, and your skin tingles with the realization.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me you love me again, like you did when you were drunk.”

“I love you,” he says immediately, holding you even tighter. “I love you so much that sometimes it hurts.”

Your entire body both relaxes and is set on fire by his words, your core throbbing desperately around his massive cock. 

“Johnny-” you whimper.

“Tell me you love me too,” he pleads.

“I love you too,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair and bringing his face close to yours so you can look up into his eyes. “I love you too.” 

Johnny’s hand finds your thigh, hiking it higher on his hip. Somehow, he hits even deeper now, and you wriggle below him, more sounds of pleasure escaping you and filling the room.

“You sound so good, honey- I won’t last if you keep squeezing me and moaning-”

“Then don’t last,” you gasp. “Want you to cum.”

“Where should I cum?”

“Inside- I’m on birth control, just- fuck, Johnny, cum inside.”

He groans, pressing his mouth firmly to your own, his tongue dancing along yours as his motions get even faster.

You’re clinging to him for dear life at this point, and when he slips a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, you nearly begin to cry from how good it feels.

“Love the way your pussy sucks me in when we play with your clit,” he tells you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

“Do you think you can cum for me again? I don’t want to be the only one cumming.”

“Yeah, yeah- fuck, yeah, I can cum again,” you whimper desperately.

“Let me know when,” he instructs, adjusting his motions ever so slightly so each thrust has his cock dragging against your gspot.

You let out a squeal of delight, your thighs shaking around his hips, stomach muscles clenching almost painfully-

“Fuck, John, I’m there- shit, fuck-”

Johnny shuts you up with his lips against your own, and for a second time, your orgasm hits you.

Your core clamps down incredibly hard on his cock, and Johnny groans deeply above you, fingers twitching on your clit. He keeps his pace, and a moment later, you feel his cum filling you up, coating your walls with warmth.

The feeling of his large length throbbing in your own oversensitive hole has your entire mind going fuzzy, and you kiss him like a woman lost, like a woman so completely in love that nothing else matters.

You ride out your orgasms together, until you’re both shaking. Only then does Johnny come to a stop on top of you, kisses turning to a more gentle nature as he holds you close. 

“I love you,” he tells you again.

You smile, blinking up at your best friend. “And I love you.”

Epilogue

The two of you are in the kitchen cooking brunch. Johnny is pressed to your back, watching intently, asking all sorts of questions about how you cook eggs to make them so delicious and superior to his own.

“The secret ingredient is love,” you tease.

Johnny can only laugh, holding you tighter.

He’s so lost in you, that he loses track of time, and as the two of you are sitting down to eat, Soonbok walks through the front door. She stops in her tracks when she sees you, letting her little overnight bag slip to the ground.

“Oh, hi, baby,” Johnny stands up immediately.

“Hi, daddy,” Soonie says, allowing her dad to pick her up for a hug while her eyes shift to you.

“Did Sabrina’s mom drop you off?” Johnny asks, looking out the door to wave at Soonie’s friend’s mom as she drives away.

“As always, daddy,” Soonie laughs. “I didn’t know y/n was coming over.”

“Surprise,” you grin, also standing so that when Johnny sets his daughter to the ground, she can run to give you a hug of your own.

Once Soonie is done squeezing you as tight as her little arms can muster, she looks between you and Johnny. For some reason, Johnny feels his heart beginning to race, there’s a knowing in his daughters eyes.

“What’s going on?” Soonie asks finally.

“Y/N and I just had a little sleep over,” Johnny tries to explain, and the concept isn’t a new one, you sleep over frequently… in the guest bedroom.

“So…” a wicked grin appears on Soonbok’s face, “Does this mean you’ll stop trying to get me to call her auntie now?”

“What?” Johnny lets out a surprised laugh.

“You heard me, daddy,” Soonbok’s smile widens. “Does this… does this mean we’ll be a real family now?”

Johnny lets out a shuddery breath. In the years you’ve been helping raise Soonbok, Johnny has broached the idea of her calling you Auntie Y/N, as a respect thing, and his daughter has always refused. Had she seen the connection this whole time? Has this been something Soonbok has wanted ever since she was a five year old with an inquisitive mind and an even more discerning eye?

Johnny’s gaze shifts to you, and you flash him a warm smile.

“Yeah, baby,” Johnny picks up his daughter. “We can be a real family now.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! This was such a fun project for me, thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me to write for Chef John, he deserved his happy ending :)

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🔮 preview. The man ordering can’t see you lying on the floor of the food truck. He has no idea what’s going on- and you feel like tempting fate a little. You bring your hand to your pussy, beginning to rub yourself through your pants, adjusting the vibrator ever so slightly as it buzzes inside you. Johnny nearly drops the tomato he’s holding, quickly tearing his gaze from yours. You’ve never seen him trying to focus this hard- and failing. What had been your torture initially, has just become his own, and you kind of love it.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (fucking in a food truck), use of vibrator while helping a customer, vibrator as a makeshift gag ball, breast worship, fucking with half your clothes on, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink, etc…   I petnames. (hers) honey

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 230

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

You love working with Johnny. Sure, it had been rough at first, getting his food truck on its feet, but it’s been two years, and with some insanely good marketing, you’re now running one of the top trucks in the city.

It’s a joy to watch Johnny fulfill his dreams every day- his odd obsession with sandwiches of all things has only added to your connection. Watching him smile and charm guests makes your heart swell with joy, and on the rare occasion Soonie comes to do the register and take orders, it feels like you’re just one happy family.

Today, however, is a weather disaster. The forcast had mentioned light sprinkles, but cuddled next to Johnny looking out at the torrential downpour, you both feel a little bamboozled.

“You know what would make this more fun?” Johnny asks.

“Customers?” you suggest.

“Yes, but also… I got you something.” The chef flashes you a sly smirk, and you pull away from his shoulder to asses him.

“Am I going to like where this is going?” you ask.

He was single for so long- and there’d been so many sexual things he’d missed out on during that time, but the two of you are making up for it every moment you have alone. You suppose this is a moment alone, so you’re not really shocked that his mind is in the gutter.

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[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 2

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

Warning: physical assault - reader gets slaped on the face

Series Masterlist

Your gaze reveals the precious truths

The beauty that you see within

The bravery that I once never possessed

Your love is strength

Your love is pure

Your love is everything

-Arthur Talbot

You set your quill back into the ink jar and lean back in your chair, letting the ink dry. It's well into the night. Your father and aunt now sound asleep in their respective bedrooms. You find that late nights like these are the best times to write. It's when the world is quiet and you can indulge in your guilty pleasure of writing poetry. You're sure that if your father were to ever find out about this, he'd cast you out.

So your secret remains. Some parts of you felt like you should at least tell Benedict, for he's your closest, and dearest friend. However, you thought best not to. If the ton were to find out, it would be the end of you and you could never be one to drag Benedict down with you.

You can never do that to the man you love.

____________________________

You're in the sitting room watching as stands at Benedict at his easel, Colin and Greggory play chess, and Daphne coos over Auggie. Benedict works on his still life as you sit close by.

He frowns, taking a step back from his painting, "This is wrong. It's-Something's missing."

You lean closer to get a glance at his work, "Benedict, it looks beautiful."

"Are you sure?" he asks with an unsure look on his face.

You stand up and take a better look at the canvas, "Don't you artists always say beauty is in the eye of the beholder?" you look at Benedict with a smirk and then back at the canvas, "What you may find as unattractive, Benedict, someone else might find alluring and lovely."

You pat his arm and then plop yourself back into the chair you previously occupied. You go back to your reading completely unaware that Benedict is looking at you with absolute love in his eyes.

He hears someone clear their throat and he looks away to see Anthony staring at him expectantly, "I'm sorry, brother. Did you say something?"

"We're all going for a promenade. I believe we've all been inside for long enough."

You stand up, "I shall take my leave then, Bridgertons."

"Or you can join us?" Benedict immediately asks with hopeful grin.

You softly shake your head, "I don't want to intrude."

"Nonsense," Kate says as she enters the room, "We're always happy to have you, Y/N," she joins her husband's side.

"Well, I can't reject you, Viscountess Bridgerton," you give Kate a smile and Benedict is confused, "So you have no problem rejecting me?"

You laugh, "I'm only jesting, Benedict. I'd love to accompany you and your family for a promenade."

"Wonderful, let's get to it then," Anthony says, trying to gather his siblings together.

_________________________

You're following Benedict's younger siblings whilst said man was walking beside you. You're walking in silence, but it isn't awkward. Silence in Benedict's presence is never awkward, but rather comforting.

"I've realized something, Y/N."

"Yes?"

Benedict keeps his eyes on you as you two continue to follow his younger siblings, "You've always been very supportive of my artistic prospects, but I don't believe I've given the same curtesy to you and your poetic writings. I recall you enjoyed writing them when we were younger."

It warms your heart knowing that Benedict remembers of the times you'd write whilst he'd paint or draw. You let out long and deep sigh. Looking ahead, you reply, "Yes, well, I've given up those dreams, I'm afraid. You know how my father is about my indulgence with poetry. I have to be very careful. Even reading it and reciting it to the ton is risky. Luckily, my father is inebriated a majority of the time he's out and about."

"Well if you ever decide to return to writing poetry, you have my full support."

You nod, "Thank you, Ben. I really appreciate it."

"Y/N," you turn to your right to see Daphne now walking beside you, pushing Auggie in his pram.

"Yes, Your Grace?" you stop and answer her with a teasing smirk. You're older than Daphne by a few years, but just two years younger than Benedict. You've always seen Daphne as a younger sister, being that you are an only child. Occasionally the teasing will produce itself between you two.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?"

You can't help but laugh, "Of course, but I've been spending my entire day with you already. Won't you all get tired of me?"

"We'd never tire of you, Y/N," Benedict replies with earnest and it brings a warm smile to your place.

"Be that as it may, I believe the Viscount should have the final word?"

Anthony, Kate, and Violet catch up to you as you're all looking at Anthony. He looks at you all in confusion, "Something the matter?"

Daphne speaks up, "I invited Y/N to stay for dinner if that's alright, brother?"

He shoots you a grin, "Of course. Miss L/N is always welcome. You're practically family, yes?" he shoots Benedict a wink and you're not sure why.

"Well thank you for the invitation," you look down at your dress, "But perhaps, I should at least change. This dress isn't particularly dinner attire."

"What do you mean? You look beautiful as always," Benedict states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

The Bridgertons all give each other knowing looks. That's when the Dowager Viscountess speaks up, "Benedict, darling, Y/N is right. After the promenade, we should allow her to freshen up before dinner."

Kate removes herself from Anthony and loops arms with you, "Let us continue our promenade, Y/N."

"Of course!" you giggle with your friend as you continue on the trail.

Benedict moves to follow, but Anthony pats his brother on the shoulder, "You've spent hours with her, brother. Let her take a break from you clinging to her all the time."

Benedict looks at his older brother in offense, "I don't cling to her...do I?"

"A bit, darling," Violet says and Daphne nods in agreement.

He runs his hand through his hair and sighs, "I'm too obvious, aren't I?"

Daphne shakes her head, "No, I don't think so. If you were, she'd have said something, yes? Or maybe would have run for the hills?" she asks with a smirk to her elder brothers, before continuing to push Augie down the path.

_________________

When you arrive back home to change, you ask the housekeeper, Mrs. Burnett, if your aunt is home.

"No, Miss, she's gone to meet with Lady Danbury," the older woman replies.

You nod, "Thank you, Mrs. Burnett," you gather your dress and make your way to your room upstairs.

You freeze when you see the door ajar and you know for a fact you closed it before leaving earlier.

You slowly push the door open and your heart drops when you see your father surrounded by pages and pages of poems. Poems that are supposed to be written by a man.

You gulp and slowly approach him as he sits at your writing desk, "Papa?"

His eyes meet yours in a cold and intimidating stare, "Not only have you still been indulging in poetry, but you're writing it? Under a man's name?"

"What were you doing in my room?"

"THIS IS MY HOUSE! I CAN BE ANYWHERE I PLEASE!"

You take some cautionary steps towards him, "Papa, you've had too much to drink."

"No!" he abruptly stands at your desk, causing you to jump ack in surprise. His chest is heaving as he tightly grips pages of your work, "If anyone finds out about this-"

"They won't! I've hid this from everyone for months!"

"You need to marry," he says with definitive authority.

You look at him with a confused expression, "What do you mean?"

"I can't take your defiance any longer!"

"Defiance?"

Your father walks around your desk so it's no longer a wall between you and he. He points a warning finger at you, "If you don't find a husband within a month's time, I'm marrying you off to your cousin, Albert."

Your jaw drops, "Cousin Albert?! He's absolutely horrendous! He's a rake and a gambler-"

"And looking for a wife!" he exclaims as he cuts you off, "When you were younger, your Uncle Wallace tried to convince me to have you two promised to each other once you came out to society. I regret not taking the opportunity now seeing how you've grown up."

You clench your fists in anger, "Mama wouldn't stand for this! She-

THWACK!

Your words are stuck in your throat, your cheek stinging after your father slaps you. His eyes are red and wild as he spits out, "Mama is dead! She is not here anymore! This is my house! You are to find a husband in a month or you are to marry Albert. Be grateful I'm not sending you away right this moment."

You're holding your cheek now, trying to soothe the pain. Your heart hurts for yourself and your mama. You know she'd hate the man your papa has become.

Without another word, you're rushing out of your room and bounding down the stairs.

Your aunt had just arrived back and you rush past her without a glance. She follows you in concern, "Y/N? What happened?! What's wrong? Y/N!" she yells after you as you run down the street back towards the Bridgerton household.

[phoward89]

Professor!Coriolanus x Innocent!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Dark!Coryo, Obsessed!Coryo, Innocent!Reader, Sweet!Reader, Naive!Reader, manipulation, obsession, professor/student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, cussing, drugging, dacryphilia, smut, dub con, non con?

Based on a request a while back where your professor's obsessed with you and manipulates you to be with him.

Coriolanus Snow flourished in his studies at the University: a double major in Political Science and Military Strategy. He also impressed Dr. Gaul while interning with her as a gamemaker. But, although his ideas were implemented and well liked by the mad scientist, Dr. Gaul didn't feel like Mr. Snow had the raw, insane, sadistic gumption that it took to be an official Gamemaker.

The mad scientist also didn't like Coriolanus’ presidential aspirations. Truthfully, she feared the young Snow because, in her opinion, he was too ambitious. Ambition is a very dangerous thing when given the absolute freedom to bloom into real, tangible, outcomes and goals. Dr. Gaul knew if Coriolanus became an Assistant Gamemaker that he'd stop at nothing to attain her job; use that position to further his goal of politics.

Coriolanus Snow dreamed of becoming the youngest President Panem has ever had. And Dr. Gaul knows that in order to do that, well, her little pupil has to win people over; kill a lot of them too in order to clear the way for his stepping stones to the Presidential Palace.

Coriolanus Snow as the president is the last thing Dr. Gaul wants on God's green earth. Her former student is very cunning, but uncontrollable. He likes to be in control; doesn't want to be told what to do. Has a godlike complex too. And the mad scientist can't have that because, in reality, the President of Panem is just a figurehead- a puppet that Dr. Gaul pulls all the strings of.

And after mentoring Mr. Snow for his 4 years of University, well, Dr. Gaul has come to the conclusion that he's a failed experiment. To a certain degree he passed some of her tests, but not the one where ambition and falling in line were concerned. Plus, the woman has a suspicion that Coriolanus poisoned Highbottom a few years back; no way in hell is she letting an arsenic happy little sociopath work close to her.

She's not crazy enough to trust Coriolanus Snow not to poison her. Give Dr. Gaul some credit, she didn't become the Head Gamemaker and the Head of the War Department for nothing. She's very bright, just a bit insane and morally evil.

But, since Dr. Gaul, his personal mentor during his entire University career, claimed that he just wasn't the best of the best or the brightest star out of the University students under her tutelage, Coriolanus wasn't offered any positions that could be of power or use to him in his dreams of politics. He was blackballed from the Citadel and from anything Gamemaker related, per Dr. Gaul's request.

But he was offered a position as a professor in the Political Science department of the Capitol's prestigious University. But the class he was assigned to teach just happened to be an elective class.

Political Policies In Utopia/Dystopia Pre-Panem Literature/Media

It was basically a class that broke down what was right and wrong with the politics of various pre-Panem books and movies that were usually apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic (sometimes even sci-fi in nature). Coriolanus felt that the class was idiotic, but he was stuck teaching it. Apparently the class was designed as something fun for the Political Science students, as something light amongst their heavy coursework. But still something that'd keep their minds on the strengths and weaknesses of politics; the importance of them.

The first couple of years teaching the course, Coriolanus would cringe at some of the books and movies he was forced to make the class read, watch, and disect. But as the years went on, well, he got immune to some of the source material he was teaching. Sad to say, but after a while the shocking things in his lessons didn't phase him.

So, as his old classmates and acquaintances made their mark in the world in either politics, banking, or business, Coriolanus was a University Professor. He was trapped in a mundane life, year and year.

And one day he woke up, a man nearing 28 and going nowhere. He was frustrated with his life: bitter over his dead dreams. But, when you walked into his class on the first day of the Fall semester looking like a fresh faced innocent school girl that had recently graduated from the Academy during early July, well, he knew that his luck had changed.

Yes, he might be stuck being a professor of a useless elective class forever, but at least now he had a sweet angel- you- to lust after and corrupt. And the darkness looming inside of Coriolanus’ soul demands that he corrupts you; takes you as his life partner to smother and never let you.

He swore to never fall in love again and he intended to keep that vow, but that didn't mean that he had to keep fucking useless, faceless, nameless whores. No. It was time for him to get a good girl and unfortunately for you, well, your youth and innocent aura attracted Professor Snow to you like a moth to a flame.

Except he's not the one that's getting burnt in this scenario, but you are.

You're one of the only girls enrolled in Professor Snow's class, but that's because it's a Political Science course. Actually, it's an elective class for Political Science majors of all year levels. But still…it's a political class.

Your parents weren't too thrilled when you enrolled at the University as a Political Science major. Your father, Colonel Javanis Halvir, felt that you should've joined the Nursing Core or should've settled on becoming a socialite and looking for a husband like other pretty Capitolite girls did.

But much to your father's disappointment you did neither and decided to study politics instead. You're older brother, Rein, who was an Officer in the Peacekeepers thought it was hilarious that you defied your father. He backed up your decision to major in Political Science. Your mother could care less; she even told your father to ignore your University major and course load; that you’d either get tired and quit because it was too hard or you’d find a future politician to marry.

So far neither of your mother's assumptions have come to pass. You're still enrolled in all of your classes and you're still single.

Your last class of the day was Professor Snow's and you found the class to be very interesting. Very intriguing in fact. Oh, how you found the class to be unlike any you've ever taken before.

Political Policies In Utopia/Dystopia Pre-Panem Literature/Media.

Oh, the class made you think about how things could be worse in different realities or universes. Yes, you're only on the first assigned book for the semester’s reading, but so far The Handmaid's Tale seems like hell on steroids. Fuck, that book makes you shudder and you're only halfway thru it. You honestly can't wait til it's over and Professor Snow lets you move onto the next one.

When you walk into the classroom, Professor Snow's sitting behind his mahogany desk. He's got reading glasses on and he's nose deep in a book. It's not one of the class assigned reads, so you quickly figured out that it's a personal book.

As you take your usual seat, you can't help but think that your professor (who’s a good decade older than you) looks handsome in reading glasses. That the dark frames make his icy blue eyes pop and contrasts against his slicked back platinum hair. Shaking your head to clear any and all wandering thoughts of Professor Snow, you open your bag and take out your supplies for the class.

Coriolanus discreetly looks over the top of his book to check you out. Oh fuck, how he thinks you look so goddamn perfect and sexy today in your sweater, blouse, skirt, stockings, kitten heels, and your pearls.

Fuck, a simple strand of pearls around the neck and simple pearl earrings in the ears always makes his cock twitch. Oh, how he wants to do some pearl play with the strand and your pussy.

Oh, yes, with how young you are and how innocently pretty you look, he's sure that your cunt's tighter then a Nun's chuff. Oh, how he'd love to take your strand of pearls and slide them up and down your wet slit; tease your clit with them until it's swollen and you're begging to cum. He wonders if you’d suck your juices clean from the pearls too.

But then Coriolanus remembers where the hell he's at, his classroom in the damn University, and suddenly he's thinking of his ex, Livia Cardew, to make his dick soft. Ugh, that shrew can kill a wet dream.

And when he sees all of his students are sitting in their respective seats, he eyes the clock on the wall to check the time. When he sees that it's about time to start class, he closes his book and places it on his desk before standing up and standing in front of the large blackboard. He writes on it in his impeccable handwriting.

The Handmaiden's Tale Chapters 26-28 Review

You listen as Professor Snow goes over the material you read over the last couple of days, literally giving a cut and dry summary that barely touched the topic of the latest chapters. But then, when he's done, he starts asking the class questions. Questions about the book that makes the class think and ponder.

“In chapter 28 Offred muses about the fall of the United States and the creation of Gilread. Now, we find out that women's rights are slowly striped and all bank accounts women have are given to the husband or male in the family, amongst some other revelations about the occupation Gilread slowly does to the government. Now, my question is, do you think the flashback Offered provided about the fall of the United States and the subtle, but sure, takeover of Gilread could happen today in Panem?”

A young man with beige hued hair raised his hand, only for Professor Snow to nod and acknowledge him with a simple, “Mr. Arnoult, you share your answer with the class.”

Eros Arnoult, in your opinion, was a pain in the ass; know it all. Or at least he thought he was a know it all. And he just had to answer Professor Snow's philosophical question with the idiotic and incorrect answer of, “What happened to the United States in the book would never happen here in Panem. Panem has Peacekeepers.”

And you knew Eros’ answer was wrong by how Professor Snow’s cerulean blue eyes narrowed and turning into a pair of cold icicles; how his lips frowned in a thin line.

Before thinking better of it, you turned around in your seat to look at Eros and told him, “You’re such an idiot, Eros. You're wrong, because what happened to the United States could happen to Panem.”

“Miss Y/N, please elaborate.” Professor Snow insisted with a spry smirk on his face.

You turn around to face your professor before telling him and the entire class, “What happened to the United States in the book A Handmaiden's Tale could happen to Panem if, gods forbid, the Districts rise up again like they did during the war; the Dark Days.”

“The Districts would never dream about rising up again. Not with the Hunger Games keeping them in line.” Eros told you before Professor Snow could even make a remark about your thoughts.

Turning around to face your classmate, again, you counter his remark with one of, “The Hunger Games can only do so much to keep them in line. People, if pushed too hard or if they feel too hopeless will try to rebel or will follow the pied piper into something worse than what they have and everyone else will be stunned when it happens because they never thought it could.”

Coriolanus was very impressed with your political insight. For being in your first semester of your first year at the University. At first your beauty and innocence caught his eye, but he has to admit that the more time you spend in his class the more he discovers he appreciates your wit as well.

So much so that he tells you, “Very good answer, Miss Y/N.”, before explaining in length what the United States did wrong in the book to fall and become Gilread and, of course, explaining how those lessons can be implemented and used in politics today.

One day after class you're walking with your neighbor in the courtyard whenever Professor Snow comes marching up to you, seething. You didn't understand what was wrong; why he seemed so upset.

“You need to leave my student alone.” Professor Snow ordered your neighbor, Odysseus, in a firm baritone while using his hand to separate you and your bronze haired neighbor.

“It's fine, Professor Snow. Really, he's my neighbor.” You assure your tall and imposing teacher as he places a protective arm around your shoulder; pulling you into his side while acting as a large buffer between you and Odysseus.

Odysseus’ lips curled up into a deriding smile that dug into his dimples cheeks. Cocking his head slightly at the pristine platinum haired professor, he remarked in a mawkish tone, “Yea, Professor Snow, I live across the hall from her so we'll be seeing plenty of each other.”

Keeping you under his protective wing, Coriolanus craned his neck forward as he towers over the peacock of a bronze haired boy, while coldly stating, “I know exactly what boys like you, Mr. Odair, want from girls like Miss Y/N and I’m not going to let you taint her reputation. Neighbor or not.” Waving him off with a dismissive flick of the wrist, the professor ordered your neighbor to, “Stay away from Miss Y/N or else you might find yourself on an academic probation.”

Odysseus shook his head in disgust and disbelief before stalking off. Honestly, he couldn't believe that you just let your cold, overbearing, astute professor take control over the situation that was your neighborly friendship and turn it into some knight in shining toilfoil coming to an unneeded rescue moment. The sea-green eyed man couldn't help, but have an uneasy feeling about Professor Snow swooping in on you under the guise as your protector.

You're a freshman at the University, you don't need some distinguished professor that's all washed up (everyone in Capitol City knows how Coriolanus Snow aimed high and fell short in his ambitions) ‘protecting’ you from a young man your age.

Coriolanus couldn't help, but to let a smug, triumphant smirk paint his lips as he watched Odysseus Odair slump his shoulder and scurry off in defeat. Yes, once again Snow lands on top.

And Snow’s going to be the only man landing on top of you too. That he'll make sure of.

Coriolanus’ face contorted from a smugly victorious to stricken with concern before he turns to you. His baritone is deep with care as he tells you, “Although Mr. Odair's your neighbor, you need to stay away from him, darling. He's a skirt chaser with a nasty reputation on campus; boys like that'll just use you and leave you.” Patting your cheek, he adds in, “I'd hate to see my best and brightest pupil get hurt.”

Unable to believe your ears, you ask in awe, “I’m your best pupil?”

“Yes, Miss Y/N, you truly are.” Professor Snow nods. Clutching the strap of his leather satchel, he informs you with a thin lipped smile, “In fact, I find your insight on the course material we're currently working on to be very refreshing and mentally stimulating.”

Did you just hear him right? He can't mean that, can he? “Really?” You blurt out in a surprised tone.

“Really.” Your platinum blonde professor nods. “Do you have a class I could escort you to before I leave, just to make sure you're safe from Mr. Odair's nefarious intentions?” He asks, sounding like a concerned angelic man with a heart of gold.

But little do you know that he's as angelic as Lucifer himself; his heart of gold is pitch black and full of selfish desires.

“Oh, I don't have any more classes. Yours was my last one.” You innocently inform Professor Snow, causing the cunning and calculating man to do a mental happy dance hidden behind a neutral mask.

Coriolanus knows that what he's going to do is unethical, but he doesn't care. As long as he gets what he wants, which is you in his bed, he'll break every rule. All of his other dreams are unobtainable, but not you.

No.

His dream of being with you is right in reach and he's going to snatch it up greedily in his large hands.

Coriolanus gives you a smile that's more manic then friendly, as he suggests, “Why don't you join me for a bite to eat? We can always discuss your thoughts on politics or anything related to my class, if you'd like.”

Professor Snow thinks you're his best student and wants to grab something to eat with you to discuss politics and his class with you. Oh wow! You can't believe it. You didn't think you were that great of a student, surely one of the boys must have a higher aptitude for politics. It is, after all, usually a man's world and subject.

“Okay.” You simply reply with a small, flattered smile.

“I know the perfect place.” Coriolanus told you, guiding you into the direction of the parking lot and in extension his black luxury sedan was parked. “I'm positive you'll enjoy the food there.” A slightly sinister smirk crossed over his face as he lightly remarked, “And the wine’s to die for.”

“I'm not old enough to drink wine, Professor Snow.” You remind your professor, who has to be close to thirty.

“Well, you just let me order for us and nobody’ll know how young you really are.” Professor Snow tells you, his tone sounding mirthful and secretive, as he sips his face a bit too close towards yours.

His disposition changes as he holds his head up high and points his car out on the approaching lot. “That's my car right over there, darling. Nice, isn't it?”

“Yes, it's very nice.” You agree with a nod. In fact, his car seems nicer than the one your family has. You even tell him that too, earning you a chuckle from him.

The place Professor Snow took you to was a quaint, but upscale restaurant close to the Corso. The food was very delicious and the wine, as he said, was to die for. True to his word, your professor ordered for both of you and nobody was none the wiser that perhaps you shouldn't be drinking the wine.

But right before desert was going to be served you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. And that's when Coriolanus decided to enact the most vital part of his plan. Something that you knew nothing about; would never believe if told either.

As you wash your hands in the powder room, you look in the mirror and wonder if it's odd that you feel a bit giddy from eating with Professor Snow. You'd be lying if you said that you didn't have a tiny crush on the handsome, distinguished man. Because, you really do have a teeny tiny crush on him. But a girl would have to be blonde not to simp over the man with the perfectly styled platinum curls, striking baby blue eyes, prominent nose with a set of perfect pearly whites.

Deciding that you needed to stop being silly, you splashes some water on your face and took a deep breath before exiting the ladies room.

“Our deserts just arrived, darling.” Professor Snow smiles,gesturing towards the rich dark chocolate cheesecakes set in front of your place settings.

“Oh, you didn't have to wait for me, Professor Snow.” You tell him, feeling a bit embarrassed that he's been sitting and looking at his cheesecake instead of eating because he was waiting on you.

“Nonsense, Y/N.” The platinum blonde picked up his fork. “My Grandma'am taught me that a gentleman always waits for a lady arrive to start a course.” Professor Snow scoops a piece of his cheesecake with his fork while you reach for your own fork. Bringing his bite of the chocolate desert to his lush lips, he smirks, “That includes desert.”

You're using your fork to dig into your own desert whenever your professor pulls the fork from his lips and tells you, “Please, call me Coriolanus.” Digging back into his cheesecake, he adds, “Or Coryo, if you'd like.”

In between eating your desert, you ask, “Is that allowed? I'm your student.”

“I can't see why we can't be friends outside of class. We're two adults that can manage a friendship, aren't we?”

“Yes, but you're like 30.”

Coriolanus narrowed his icy eyes; his mouth sourly puckered as he tarly told you, “Oh, darling, don't age me. I'm a Scorpio; I’m only turning 28 this All Hallows Eve.”

“Oh, you're the same age as my older brother.” You blurt out, causing Coriolanus to just let out a silent huff.

Honestly, he already knew that. He knows that your older brother's Rein Halvir. He remembers the idiot from their days in the Academy. And, frankly, he's glad he hasn't run into him since being back in the Capitol.

“Yes, I believe I attended the Academy with him.” Coriolanus said, pretending to take his brain for your sake. “Is he faring well?” He asked, his eyes lighting up with a slight sparkle as you reached for your win glass.

You think it's nice that Coriolanus asked about your brother. So, of course, you answer his inquiry with, “Rein’s an officer in the peacekeepers. He's stationed in District 12; has a girlfriend and two kids.”

“Capitolite or?...” The cerulean man asks, his deeply smooth tone falling of a cliff of a silent question. A question of District.

“Ashlie's from District 12- the Seam to be exact. Their kids were born on PK Base-D12 so they're registered as Capitol citizens.”

“Aha.” Coriolanus lifts his nose up, in both superiority and disgust.

Coriolanus once spent the summer of his 18th year of life in District 12 as a peacekeeper grunt while foolishly fancying himself in love with the songbird victor of the 10th Hunger Games. Unfortunately, it didn't end well. Sometimes he'd wonder if things could've been different, but then he remembers that him and the songbird were too different to ever work. And that if she truly loved him she wouldn't have betrayed him; try to poison him with a snake and leave him to die.

No, he's much better off without that Covey frontrunner whore in his life. Her love was toxic, made him feel like a fool. And if things had worked out with her then we would've never met you.

Coriolanus is without a doubt certain that you're the girl for him. Innocent, beautiful, young, and intelligent. Oh yes, he's surely met histch in you. And he's certain that you'll never betray his love.

No, not with how kind and gentle your smile is.

“My family's proud that my brother followed our father's military footsteps, but they're not too fond of his girlfriend or their kids.” Your father's still pissed that his grandchildren are half-District. “Believe it or not, I'm the family disappointment.” You admit to your professor, even tho a part of you knows you shouldn't, before taking a large sip of your wine.

Your admission took the platinum haired professor a back. He was quite befuddled by it. How could you, a smart and innocent angel of a girl be the family disappointment? It doesn't make any sense.

Scratching his chin in a pondering way, Coriolanus asked, “Why would you be a disappointment?” Resting his elbow on the table and curling his hand into a fist, which he rests his jaw against, he remarks in a stunned baritone, “You're my best student and I'm sure you're excelling in your other classes as well.”

Yes, Professor Snow just couldn't fathom why you're not good enough for your family. In his eyes, you're absolutely perfect. But yet again he does have an obsession with you that's just crossed over a dark line; maybe even a sick one too.

“I'm studying Political Science instead of enlisting in the Nursing Core or taking my place in society as a socialite.” You wanted to go back to eating your desert, but you were suddenly feeling a bit odd. You felt as you were getting a bit hazy. Maybe it was too hot in the restaurant? “My mother told my father to just let me study politics as a way to find myself an aspiring politician to marry.” You add, concluding your explanation of why you're a disappointment to the Halvir family name.

“I once had political aspirations, but alas it wasn't meant to be and I'm a political professor for the great University in all of Panem instead.” Coriolanus said with a bit of veiled excitement in his smooth timbre.

Oh, Coriolanus was internally giddy. His plan was perfect. Just a few more minutes and he'll have you right where he wants you.

“Are you alright, darling? You seem a bit flushed.” Coriolanus asked, fake concern in his baby blues, as he placed his fork down on his plate.

“I'm not sure, Coriolanus. I feel a bit hazy.” You honestly tell him. Oh no, are you tipsy? You can't be, it was only a glass of wine. “Maybe the wine was too strong?” You offer as you begin to feel as if the room's going to start spinning.

Coriolanus’ brows knit as he gives you a worried look. “I think we should get the check and leave, Y/N. You really don't look well and I'm a bit concerned.” Your professor suggests, making you believe that he truly was concerned about your well being.

“Okay.” You nod, feeling dizzy and drowsy.

You must've passed out because the last thing you remember is feeling dizzy and drowsy while getting ready to leave the restaurant and then the next moment you're waking up in a strange bed. You automatically start panicking as you sit up. But before you can scream or scramble off the bed, a voice next to you sounds out with, “Oh, you're awake. Are you feeling better now, darling?”, and kills your fight or flight reactions.

You're with Professor Snow- uh Coriolanus. And he's not in his three piece suit anymore, instead he's in lounge pants and a casual shirt. What the?...

You look over at him, only to discover that he's laying on the bed, legs crossed at the ankle with his back leaning against the headboard. A pair of black frame glasses are perched on the bridge of his prominent nose as he reads a book. A book that’s cover looks well worn and battered.

“What happened? Why am I in bed with you?” You ask, feeling a bit confused.

“You don't remember walking out of the restaurant and falling out in the parking lot near my car?” He asked, closing his book and setting it on his nightstand before taking off his reading glasses and placing them on top of the book.

‘No.” You shake your head. “I don't.”

“Well, my darling,” Coriolanus gave you a sympathetic, but pointed look with his icy eyes, “Since you blacked out before I could get your address I brought you to my Corso penthouse.” Placing a large hand on your knee, he gave you a closed lip smile. “I don't want to startle you, but I took the liberties of changing you into a shirt of mine, for comfort.” Raising his hand up, to stop you from even thinking about opening your mouth, he said in a gentlemanly tone, “Don't worry, I didn't cross any lines; your underwear is still on.”

You should be creeped out, but instead you find it endearing that he was worried about your comfort and changed you into one of his shirts while you were passed out. Oh, no. Now you feel so embarrassed and stupid blacking out after a glass of wine. What's wrong with you? The wine couldn't have been that strong, could it?

“Thank you.” You murmur, casting your eyes down to stare at the hand that's on your thigh- Coriolanus' large hand. “I guess the wine was too strong for me.”

“Yes, I suppose it was.” The platinum blonde man next to you nodded. “I was worried about you; kept vigil by your tipsy side.”

Pushing his hand off your thigh, you tell him, “Thank you, but I should probably dress and catch a cab home.”

“Darling, you don't have to leave. You can stay here til you regain your senses; you'll be safe with me.”

“I'm fine.” You assure him, tone a bit snappier than you meant for it to be, as you sat on the edge of the bed.

Knowing you’d be dizzy and at risk for another blackout, Coriolanus leaned over and took your arm in his hand; stopping you from getting up. When you turned around to look at him from over your shoulder, his icy eyes had a hint of something guileful in them.

“Don't go, darling. Please.”

“Profes- Coriolanus, I can't stay here. You're my professor; it'd look bad and you could get into trouble.”

“Why would I get into trouble? I'm just letting you rest after getting tipsy off of some very strong wine.” The imposing man, who's more dangerous than sinai poisoning, pointed out while quickly taking a seat right next to you. Taking his hand off of arm and placing it on your chin, tilting it in a way so you'd be able to look him in the eye, he huskily asks, “Or are you afraid to stay with me because you want to get fucked by your cold, stoic, and oh so serious Professor Snow?” His face inches closer to yours as he asks, “I know I'm quite a handsome man, Y/N. So, I must ask, do you get all hot and bothered for your teacher?”

“You shouldn't be asking me this.”

“No, I shouldn't.” Coriolanus agrees with you, his lips ghosting over yours.

Your brain's in a fog and you're beginning to feel a bit woozy again whenever Coriolanus’ lips press against yours in a kiss that's a bit hard and hungry. A kiss that makes you feel lightheaded. And when you attempt to pull away from him, to break off the kiss, he places his hands on your cheeks and pulls your face into his.

His hands, so large and strong, hold your face still as his lips press against yours over and over again with messy enthusiasm. You gasp for air, parting your lips slightly, but it's all Coriolanus needs to deepen the kiss. His tongue slips effortlessly into your mouth, exploring it, as feelings of both dizziness and pleasure wash over you.

Honestly, you don't know how to feel. Your brain's like scrambled eggs right now. You can barely think, can barely tell what's up and what's down right now.

All you know is that your head’s spinning and your body feels like it's on fire; that your professor’s making out with you on his bed as if you've been lovers for years instead of barely knowing each other then inside of his classroom.

“Coryo-” You say when he ends your kiss, allowing you both to catch your breath, but you don't say anything else since that feeling of falling into a dark abyss threatens to take over you once more.

Your eyes grow spotty causing you to blink them in an attempt at clearer vision. All the while, Coriolanus is tenderly stroking your cheeks with a strange look on his face. “I know you're a bit tipsy still and as the older one amongst us I should do the honorable thing and let you rest, but after that kiss we shared I'm afraid I can't be a gentleman with you anymore.”

Coriolanus knows that you're about to lose control of your senses, from the spiked wine you drank, but he needs to have you agree to what he wants to do. He has to get you to say ‘yes’ so that he can remind you later on when you're fully functional that you want him; that you agreed to spend the night with him in his bed- fucking.

Yes, he might be a manipulative bastard that's a tad bit possessive and obsessive, but he's not a monster. Coriolanus does want you to trust him, despite that trust coming from his own tongue weaving a silver tale for you to believe and feel comfortable with.

“You want me, don't you, darling?” Coriolanus asked, softly running his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks while cradling your face in his large hands. Gazing into your eyes with his icy orbs, he demanded, “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

Your a bit light headed and Coriolanus' words float around your head. It's as if you're underwater and his voice is just a garbled echo. Your ears seem to be ringing and you feel dazed.

All you can manage to do is give Coriolanus a lost look. You're feeling a bit wonky, can barely even make out what he's saying.

Coriolanus’ chest heaves and he internally chastises himself for being a bit heavy handed with drugging your wine. Yes, he wanted you pliable and to his will, but he doesn't want you blacked out the entire time he has his way with you.

Deciding that he needs to do something to sober you up, Coriolanus slaps you across the face. “Snap out of it, Y/N!” He orders in a deep, loud shout.

That seemed to stir something inside of you. Yes, you still felt a bit hazy, but the slap across your face paired with Coriolanus' loud shout seemed to cause your focus to return to you for a moment.

“I'm sorry, did I space out?” You ask your professor, whose baby blues are burning like hot coals with desire.

“Yes, baby, you did.” Coryo told you, soothingly stroking the cheek that he had just slapped. “I asked if you wanted to be with me; wanted to fuck me, but you just stared at me with glazed over eyes.”

“Coryo…” You sigh, feeling an unbearable heat cross over your cheeks. “We shouldn't do anything.”

“You haven't done anything before, have you?” The platinum blonde professor asked knowingly while subtly guiding you to the middle of his king sized bed.

“No.” You shake your head. Wringing your hands in your (his) shirt, you avert eye contact with him and add in, “Not really.”

“You're very special to me, Y/N. I've never met anyone as beautiful, bright, and innocent as you.” Coriolanus reveals in an eloquent speech that has your heart beating fast against your ribcage.

Truthfully, your heart's probably beating fast due to the drugged wine in your system, but since you're unaware of your state you just assume it's a romantic effect from his words. His carefully woven words.

“There's nothing wrong with us taking pleasure from each other, my darling.” He tells you like the master manipulator he is. He's working his magic on you, making your resolve start to crumble under his smooth and amorous words. Pressing his forehead against yours, he promises, “I’ll stay with you and I'll protect you, baby. I won't hurt you like those pervy boys your age would.”

Coriolanus pulled his forehead away from yours, only to press a kiss to your lips. A kiss that was soft and sensual. A kiss that he meant to be persuasive.

Time was ticking and Coriolanus knew that you'd be going back into lala land soon. Either he got you to say yes or he'd just tell you that you said yes once you came to later. But either way he's fucking your tight cunt.

“You want me to fuck you, right, baby.” The platinum blonde with a regal air around him told you, not asked.

You felt yourself begin to grow hazier by the minute. Your limbs even feel a bit heavier. Your tongue began to feel dry and heavy in your mouth and all you could manage to do was nod your head.

You felt as if your head was plunged back underwater. You felt everything around you feel muddled, but you did see Coriolanus give you a Cheshire grin before eagerly shedding his shirt and kissing you. A kiss that you barely felt due to the feeling of falling into an abyss.

You blink your eyes and seem to come back to your senses once again as Coriolanus, your handsome professor, is naked above you, thrusting his cock in and out of your pussy.

You couldn't help, but wonder how drunk you got to agree to this. Yes, you find him attractive, but Professor Snow's your teacher at University. This violates so many cod of conduct ethics.

“Oh my God!” You blurt out, causing Coryo to smirk at you.

“My big cock feels good in your tight cunt, huh, baby?” Coriolanus asked as he snapped his hips in a certain way that had his cock pressing deep against that special spongy spot deep inside of you. “Fuck, your cunt feels so good. So fucking good ‘round by cock, darling.”

Your cunt’s dripping wet and every movement Coriolanus makes causes you to shudder. It does feel very good. Hell, it feels better then all of the times you've ever been fingered.

“It feels good, Coryo.” You admit in a wispy moan.

You try to move your arms, but they feel a bit heavy. As if they're asleep. Coriolanus notices you trying to move your arms and just takes his hands off of your wrists and laces his hands in yours, all while telling you the saccharine lie of, “You're still a bit drunk, baby. Just let me hold your hands while we fuck; you can hold my back or something later."

He brings his face close to yours. His breath fans against your lips as he tells you, “You’re my good babygirl with such a sweet, tight cunt.”

“Coryo…” You whined as you felt pleasure begin to wash over you.

“That's it, baby. Cum for me. Cum right now like my good girl.” Coryo ordered in a husky tone as he pounded your pussy with such force that your body was moving up and down the bed.

His hard and fast thrusts had you cumming harder then you've ever cummed in your entire life. His name's spilling from your lips; your legs shake and spasm from your orgasm as you soak the sheets.

“Oh, I knew you were perfect.” Coryo groans at the sight of you squirting. Watching your juices gush out of you, only to roll down your crimson coated thighs has him in overdrive. His cock’s even harder and his balls are twitching; begging to empty their cum deep inside of your cunt.

Coriolanus wants to grab your legs and bend you like a pretzel so he can fuck you into his mattress, but he's afraid that you might try to lift your arms again. The less you move (without his help) the better. He can't have you realizing what he did to your wine, now can he? So, he settles for just using your laced hands to brace himself as he digs his knees into the mattress and fucks into your cunt as fast as he can.

Your limbs feel tingly as Coryo pistons into your cunt mercilessly. You feel a bit overwhelmed, perhaps even a bit oversensitive. “Coryo, it's too much.”

“You're getting oversensitive, baby. Just be a good girl and take what I give you for a few more minutes, yea?”

“Coryo, please.” Feeling a bit overwhelmed from everything, you cry. “Please.”

As sick and twisted as it sounds, seeing salty tears leak from your eyes and roll down your cheeks has Coryo shooting thick ropes of his hot cum deep into your puffy cunt while moaning out your name.

Coriolanus lets your hands go, only to slowly pull his cock out of your cunt. His icy eyes roll back into the back of his head at the sight of his white cum dripping out of your abused hole alone with a trickle of crimson- the proof that he took your virginity.

You're all his now...

He lays down next to you and pulls you into his side. “Don't worry, Y/N. You're my girl now and I'll take very good care of you.” He assures you while covering you both with his duvet.

“I'm your girl now?” You ask with an arched brow.

“We'll talk more about it in the morning when you're a bit more sober.” Coriolanus kisses you, making you think that when you were in the thick of your tipsiness you must've agreed to get involved with him.

Oh hell, how strong was that wine to make you so tipsy that you became Professor Snow’s girlfriend?

“Just rest, baby. You're safe here with me.” The platinum blonde, whose arms are protectively wrapped around you, coos in his deep baritone; lulling you back to dreamland.

A place that you've been in and out of all night.

And as you doze off Coriolanus looks at you with obsession shining in his cerulean eyes and a manic grin spread across his face. The darkness in his soul's quelled with the thought that you're his forever now.

Oh, yes. Now that he's got you in his penthouse he's never letting you go. But before he can truly begin to be the doting and devoted boyfriend to you, he needs to get rid of Festus Creed- the old Academy friend that gave him the drug he spiked your wine with. Well, Coriolanus supposes that if he poisons him at a teahouse and drinks the poison as well, but in a smaller dose, he'll be able to kill two birds with one stone.

He'll get rid of Festus before he can talk and he'll get you moving into his penthouse to take care of him after a near death experience.

Snow lands on top. And who knows, maybe one day with your father's backing Coriolanus might be able to wiggle his way into politics. And if not, well he has you.

And that's all that truly matters, isn't it? It should, considering what dark deeds he did to get you into his bed.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[c-nstantine]

Do you think Bruce has given Batmom pearls, as it is a tradition for wayne men to give their wives pearls on their wedding day. I wonder what the batkids reactions would be when they see them the first time. 🥰🥰

@legendarylearner18

I think the immediate reaction would be to try and hold in tears. Especially with Dick and Damian. Dick is like "it's finally happening." Damian knows that that Batmom won't be replacing Talia but she will be having a hand in raising him and she hears him out. Jason would be so proud and feel the need to protect his mom more. Tim is taking the best photos. Every angle imaginable has been captured and he's going to make a wedding album but somehow Bruce is only in it three times. Duke and Cass didn't realize how big of a deal it was until Alfred explained it to them and now they are making sure she never loses them.

[l3irdl3rain]

Alright, we’re going to start with the Lucy update. The whole thing is long so I’m going to put it under a read more. But the short story is she has gone into heart failure and I’m unfortunately having to have her euthanized today.

Wednesday night I got home from work and saw that Lucy had vomited. She was lethargic and just generally didn’t seem like she felt good. It didn’t seem like a dire situation so I figured I’d see how she was in the morning and go from there.

Thursday morning she seemed to have rallied some. Her breathing was “off” and she sounded a little congested, but she was much more alert and seemed more comfortable. She didn’t eat a ton on Thursday but she pick at her food some. She also vomited a few more times. I felt good about her condition though because she seemed so much more alert and comfortable than Wednesday. I figured it wasn’t an emergency and I’d just bring her to work with me today.

This morning I woke up and she had no interest in breakfast at all. Her breathing was significantly worse from the night before. She was 100x more lethargic than she had been on Wednesday night.

We did a full work up this morning at the clinic and found that she had gone into heart failure. I discussed options with Doc and he said it was possible that we could get her through the worst of it and then with some medication she could be comfortable and happy for awhile yet.

She seemed to rally a little again after getting some injections and subcutaneous fluids. I tried to take her back home on my lunch period but she ended up vomiting blood and then becoming extremely weak and lethargic again. So we turned around and went right back to the clinic.

This is another one that I feel a little guilty about, like maybe I should have taken her to an emergency clinic earlier. Or maybe I should have realized her heart was failing sooner and then we could have started her on meds sooner and given her more time. But I also know she was very old and sometimes these things just happen so quickly. I did the best I could and I did what I thought was right, and that’s all you can do.

[inkedbybarnes]

be your date

bodyguard!bucky barnes x actress!fem!reader

summary: you are invited to this year's met gala, and your bodyguard is against the idea of letting you go alone.

word count: 500+

warnings: 18+ mdni. nothing sexual, but still. some banters. hints of fluff. a sprinkle of tension. grumpy but protective bucky (yes, that is a warning!) sort of bratty reader? lack of met gala knowledge probably. usage of petnames such as princess. lowercase writing.

photos used are only for aesthetic and not to describe or visualise the reader!

note: just a little drabble to the story/plot i've been writing! since there was recently a met gala, i thought this would be a great tease for this story. i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you shouldn't go.”

as a celebrity, privacy was a rare luxury, and having your personal life being constantly invaded became your new norm.

it also meant having a personal bodyguard to keep you safe, but no one ever warned you about having a bodyguard who was both relentlessly protective and unbelievably attractive with a permanent frown on his face.

god, would it be so bad to have a crush on your bodyguard?

“you can't tell me what to do, you know that right?” you shot him a defiant look, although you knew he wasn't trying to control you, just keeping you safe.

getting a reaction other than a grunt from him was your favourite hobby, anyway.

a delivery was found on your doorstep this morning, containing an invitation and a bouquet of flowers. bucky was beside you as you opened the envelope, and immediately, he was against the idea.

“what even is the met gala?” he eyed the invitation you were holding, brow furrowed while he looked offended by the piece of paper. “it doesn't sound safe.”

bucky had learned about the letters that you would constantly receive, and how half of them were unusual and even concerning. you could still remember the frown he had kept all day when you received a marriage certificate in need of your signature.

he made sure to burn it by the fireplace.

and grunted at it one more time.

“nothing sounds safe to you, jamie.” you argued, rolling your eyes at his protectiveness. you slipped the card back into its envelope, unaware of the faint flush that spread across his face as he heard you call him by the nickname you've given him.

“it's a ball that a bunch of celebrities go to every year, but i don't really find it that special. my manager thinks otherwise though.” you explained. “and i do have to go alone if i'm attending it since it's really private. they even prohibited phones inside, so it should be safe.”

“i don't buy it.” bucky pursed his lips, remaining unconvinced. “i'm coming with you.”

“they won't let you inside. they treat this ball as a highly exclusive event. even bodyguards are off the list. i find it silly as well, don't worry.” you sighed, recalling how uncomfortable it was every time. you had no choice since your manager called it good publicity and a necessity for your career. “oh, unless i bring a date. i could probably sneak them in as a plus one. they love seeing a new pair to spark conversation. do you have anyone you trust enough to be with me so you can calm down?”

you waited for his response, but instead of answering, bucky took a step towards you, his gaze intense and unwavering. he looked at you with such intensity, making butterflies flutter in your stomach that none of your co-stars could do to you.

“i'll be your date.”

your eyes widened in surprise. was he serious? “what?"

"you asked me who i trust enough to be with you." he repeated, his face now inches away from yours, a faint smile dancing across his face. “well, princess. that person would be me."

i may have changed reader from sunshine to confident/bratty because i genuinely can't write a sunshine character without giving up... i'm not the best with jolly emotions. i think it still worked out tho!

oh, and here's a silly lil instagram post. thank you for reading!

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[justlemmeadoreyou]

hey babes have you seen that video of a fan asking Niall out recently and like he says “oh she(Amelia) will be upset” ? Could you maybe write cut blurb based on that for Harry and y/n??

words: 1.2k

warnings: fluff, smut.

***

"Oi, Harry! You single, mate? My friend fancies you!" a voice called out from the crowd during the concert.

Harry laughed and brought the microphone up to his lips. "Sorry, sorry! I'm very much taken, lads. My girlfriend wouldn't be too pleased if I went accepting offers from admirers!"

Y/N felt a rush of giddy affection watching from the wings. Even after all these years of dating, of building a life together, hearing Harry refer to her as his girlfriend still made her heart flutter.

After the show, Harry swept her up into a tight embrace, breathing her in. "You know I'm crazy about you, right love?" he murmured against her hair.

"I know," Y/N replied, feeling warm and content in the circle of his arms. "I'm pretty crazy about you too, just in case that wasn't clear."

He pulled back with a teasing grin. "Oh, I don't know. You'll have to remind me more often. I'm getting forgetful in my old age."

She swatted him playfully. "You're ridiculous. Now c'mon, I want to get takeaway from that Thai place you like before heading home."

As they walked out to the car hand-in-hand, Harry's bodyguard Mick greeted them with a nod. "Nice show tonight, H. You too, Y/N."

"Thanks Mick," Harry said easily. He always insisted that Y/N be treated as an equal part of the team by his staff and security. From the moment they got together, he made it clear she wasn't just another fling or hanger-on.

In the calm of their flat later, settled on the couch with cartons of fragrant Thai curry, Y/N felt a swell of love for this man. This generous, humble, wildly talented man who could have anyone he wanted but chose her. Chose to keep choosing her, day after day.

Harry must have sensed her watching him, because he looked up and caught her eye with a quizzical smile. "What're you thinking about over there?"

She shook her head a little. "Just…feeling really lucky, I guess. That of all the girls who fancy you, you picked me."

His eyes softened and he set his food down, reaching over to take her hand. "Y/N, you've got it backwards, love. I'm the lucky one. You're the most amazing person I know."

A lump rose in her throat at his earnest tone. "You can't just…say stuff like that and expect me to keep it together," she protested shakily.

Harry's thumb stroked over her knuckles. "It's true though. You make me want to be better, do more with the chances I've been given. I'm in awe of you every day."

Unable to find the words, Y/N leaned in and kissed him deeply, trying to convey the depths of her feelings. Harry kissed her back with equal fervor, until a wet noodle hit the side of his face with a comical splat sound.

They broke apart, stunned for a beat, until Y/N started giggling helplessly. Soon they were both consumed by laughter, food containers forgotten as they held each other. These were the moments Y/N cherished most - the simple intimacy, the shared joy of being thoroughly themselves with each other.

She couldn't imagine her life without Harry's bright spirit, without his love and support buoying her up. They had been through so much together already - the difficult early days of dating an international superstar, the intense scrutiny and pressure from all sides, the constant travelling and time apart.

Through it all, they had remained committed to choosing each other, fighting for their relationship no matter what curveballs life threw their way.

As their laughter faded off into contented silence, Harry pulled Y/N closer until she was tucked against his side. She let out a happy sigh, feeling utterly at peace.

"You know," Harry murmured after a while. "All those fans shouting for me, acting like I'm some big prize to be won…they don't realize I'm the one who hit the jackpot, getting to be with my best friend."

Not trusting her voice, Y/N simply squeezed him tighter. She knew there would always be people trying to get between them, throwing doubts and obstacles in their path. But she also knew with so much certainty - as long as they had this, had each other, nothing else mattered.

Over the next few months, tour life resumed in earnest. Frantic dashes through airports, screaming crowds, hotel room nights blurring together, every waking moment scheduled to the max. Y/N was grateful she could be by Harry's side through the whirlwind, her familiar presence keeping him grounded and sane.

One night after a show in Los Angeles, they were lounging on the hotel room sofa, Harry's head pillowed in Y/N's lap as she carded her fingers gently through his freshly-shampooed hair that always smelt so fucking good.

"You were amazing tonight, babe," Y/N murmured. "That whole stadium was eating out of the palm of your hand."

Harry hummed contentedly at her praise, his eyes slipping closed. "Felt good up there. Like all the pieces just clicked into place once I saw your face in the crowd."

Y/N's heart squeezed at his words. "You mean that?"

"Of course." He blinked up at her solemnly. "Having you there, it's…it's like coming home, no matter where we are in the world."

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N's eyes as she leaned down to kiss him tenderly. She loved this man so deeply it terrified her sometimes.

As the kiss deepened, Harry's hands came up to cradle her face, holding her to him almost desperately. Soon they were a tangle of roaming hands and shared breaths, shedding layers of clothing with increasing urgency until they lay skin-to-skin, hot and bothered.

Harry trailed hot, openmouthed kisses down the column of Y/N's throat as she arched beneath him with a breathy moan. "Need you," he rasped against the hollow of her neck. "Need to be with you, feel you…"

"Yes, yes Harry please," she panted, raking her nails down his back.

He shuddered at her touch and surged up to capture her lips again in a searing kiss. Then, with practiced tenderness, he sank into her welcoming heat and they both let out ragged gasps at the intensity of that joined feeling.

Moving together in a rhythm, Harry and Y/N lost themselves in each other, with moans and whimpers exchanged between the two as they chased their highs. This was their oasis, their refuge from the craziness of the world outside - just the two of them, tangled up in each other utterly.

Aftershocks still trembling through them both, Harry gathered Y/N close and pressed his lips to her damp hairline.

"I love you," he murmured thickly. "I love you so bloody much, Y/N."

She tilted her head back to gaze at him with sparkling eyes. "I know. And I love you, Harry. Always."

Smiling softly, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. "Forever my girl?"

"Forever," she promised.

***

tell me if you like this <3

[thisisnotthenerd]

statting out the rat grinders

this analysis is based on what we've seen of the rat grinders and their abilities in ragenarok. a few assumptions: if we follow my original xp analysis of the rat grinders that puts them at a comfortable level 19. however, we know that they've been doing far more than that, and that they may be unevenly leveled.

we know from the adventuring party that they have 20th level class/subclass features, without the benefits of leveling through it: no ASIs or feats, no additional hit dice, no hit points reflecting 20th level. the rat grinders are glass cannons to the extreme. i would guess that their stats and hit points are roughly equal to the bad kids at level 14, which leaves them vulnerable to being taken out within a round or two: if they fail a couple of saves they're stuck. what they do get is high level spell slots and the improved proficiency bonus for their best skills.

i'm presuming that the rage stars have this effect; granting access to power that your body can't support, using rage and deep emotion to sustain this state. they're functionally equivalent to the bad kids, given the bad kids' other resources and tactical cooperation. the bad kids do big damage every time because their resources are more measured--they don't have a 9th level spell to drop on the first turn.

kipperlilly copperkettle

class: mastermind rogue

level: 20

estimated hp: unknown (21 damage taken)

abilities: 10d6 of sneak attack, expertise to stealth, bonus action help, insightful manipulator (read for abilities), misdirection (move attacks to others in your space), reliable talent, soul of deceit (mind can't be read), elusive (no advantage against you unless incapacitated), stroke of luck (turn a miss into a hit/check to a 20)

commentary:

i can believe she's a level 20 rogue based on her damage output. i don't think her weapon is enhanced, so it's likely not adding much to her output. riz regularly does more damage because he has magical enhancement to his weapons.

she seems more like an assassin rogue than a mastermind--she does a lot of sneaking around the battlefield to get the drop on people. she could have thrown bonus action help but stayed out of range despite having ranged options. she also doesn't have magical means of her own to hide, presumably because she wasn't using it during this fight. not much on her hp at the moment, but i'd guess she's squishy based on her strategy.

buddy dawn

class: light cleric

level: 20

estimated hp: unknown (75 damage taken)

abilities: full suite of spell slots, warding flare (impose disadvantage on an attack roll), channel divinity, potent spellcasting (wisdom modifier added to cleric cantrip damage), divine intervention, corona of light (enemy disadvantage against fire/radiant damage)

commentary:

buddy has spent two turns of this battle holding concentration on a banishment and trying to dispel a slow on ruben. not really doing too much to help his party. he could have healed oisín but didn't. it speaks to their priorities as a group that he wasn't healing. he was there to banish the poll box and participate in the ritual, not really as a functional combatant.

honestly he's the purest example of what the rage stars do; they can give you power, but that means nothing if you don't know how to effectively use it. buddy hasn't protected himself or his allies at all

ivy embra

class: gloomstalker ranger | arcane archer fighter

level: 11 | 9

estimated hp: ~78 (78 damage taken)

abilities: action surge, hunter's mark, dread ambusher (extra attack on first turn), extra attack (1), iron mind (wisdom save proficiency), 4 arcane shot options (2 uses), indomitable, land stride (no difficult terrain), indomitable, stalker's flurry (on a miss you can make another weapon attack)

commentary:

i split her at 11 | 9 because we know she doesn't have 2 extra attacks, and she attempts stalker's flurry but fails. the arcane shot she used (halving an opponents speed with a con save) isn't technically a standard arcane shot option.

she really doesn't have the hit points to suggest she's 20th level. even assuming no bonus to con, average hp from from 20d10 (10 from ranger, 10 from fighter) would be 110. it's closest to 14d10 with no con modifier. also this would put her on even ground with the bad kids. this is what i used to estimate the rat grinders being similar to the bad kids.

oisín hakinvar

class: conjuration wizard

level: 20

estimated hp: ~90 (121 damage taken)

abilities: full suite of spell slots, arcane recovery, minor conjuration (summon an object), benign transposition (30 feet teleport swapping with a small/medium creatures), focused conjuration (concentration can't break on conjurations), durable summons (all summons get 30 temp hp), spell mastery and signature spells

commentary:

even though he died before his turn, i can believe oisín is a level 20 conjuration wizard, based on what we saw at the party. i'd guess what he did is some sort of ritual on top of a control weather.

hp-wise he falls in the range of for 14d6+40 assuming he has +2 to con. it works on the high end. i'd guess his actual total is lower than the damage he took, since brennan said he was on death's door after taking 86 damage, so i'd say no higher than 90, even though he took a total of 121.

ruben hopclap

class: whispers bard

level: 20

estimated hp: ~75 (75 damage taken)

abilities: full suite of spell slots, bardic inspiration, psychic blades (psychic damage from weapon attacks), words of terror (1 minute to seed paranoia), mantle of whispers (steal shadows of the dead), magical secrets, shadow lore (charm a creature for 8 hours)

commentary:

the only spellcaster of the rat grinders to actually use their high level spells in this fight, with the psychic scream that didn't stun the bad kids. he actually did get both spells off despite the slow, but couldn't counterspell or grant inspiration.

hp-wise he's in the normal range for a 14th level bard at 75. he did roll nat 1s on both the slow and the fireball saving throws, and failed synaptic static by 1. man is bad at saving throws.

mary ann skuttle

class: berserker barbarian

level: 20

estimated hp: unknown (52 damage taken)

abilities: rage, frenzy, mindless rage, intimidating presence (action to frighten a creature), brutal critical, resistance to psychic damage, relentless rage (drop to 1 while raging instead of 0), persistent rage (rage only ends if unconscious), primal champion (STR & CON go up by 4, for a max of 24)

commentary:

we haven't seen very much of mary ann--she got slowed and then couldn't effectively get anywhere for 2 rounds of combat. i'm excited to see what she has in store. i'm guessing she has more hp than the rest of the party by virtue of being the barbarian, but as a berserker she only halves bludgeoning/slashing/piercing, and the bad kids have a lot of other damage types that they work with.

i'll be back with more next week: covering the gaps in this analysis and maybe hitting jace and porter.

[haikyu-mp4]

I’d say it’s destiny

word count; 1605 – f!reader, implied age gap

Osamu and Atsumu weren’t completely identical, as some might know. Most notably, they decided to dye their hair differently in high school and it made the contrast of their eye colours stand out more.

However, one scenario it always worked for was substitute teachers. Osamu really didn’t mind stepping in for Atsumu today, because it meant he owed him later, but he totally forgot he was stepping in at all when he saw you.

Fresh out of university and first-time substitute teacher.

And you were crazy good-looking.

So when you were taking attendance and asked for Miya Atsumu, it went something like this…

“Here!”

“Hello, Miya,” you said, just like you did with all the other students because some teacher you once had said it made the pupils feel seen. Perhaps they weren’t considering high school students though.

“Call me Osamu,” he said with that trademark smirk he borrowed from his twin as if he was acting his part despite saying the complete opposite.

“…Atsumu?” you read off the paper, with no intention of using his given name but still curious about the name change. Suna already had his phone out in his lap, camera peeping just over the edge of his desk to film this.

“No, that’s my stupid brother.”

“So why are you… here then?”

Osamu slowly deflated, not looking as confident as he did a few seconds ago. Right, he’s not actually in this class. “I’d say it’s destiny?”

You blinked for a moment. This was not what you expected on your first day, and you weren’t quite sure what to do. Do you send him to the principal’s office? At least he’s getting an extra lesson, his apparent twin is the one who missed his. “Come to my desk after class, Miya,” you said strictly before moving on to the rest of the list, not missing the way some brunette kid snorted in the corner as Osamu agreed like you asked him out for dinner.

“You wanted to see me?” Osamu said, a cocky smirk back on his face and bag slung over his shoulder. You frowned, trying your best not to find it funny.

“Not like that, but you know it’s not okay to attend in someone else’s place?” you started, still not decided on how to lecture him properly. Fortunately, you had the number of another teacher that gave you some help.

He sat down on the chair on the other side of your desk. “I’m sorry my brother gave you trouble. What did you say your name was?” he asked, earning another squinted glare from you.

You ignored the comment and question, sighing and looking at the post-it note stuck to your schedule, scribbled with a name. “I was told I should talk to Kita Shinsuke about this, so unless you have something better to say, I think we should move along to find him and your brother.”

Osamu felt like the colour might have drained from his face, thinking of facing both his idiot brother’s complaints and Kita’s cold lecture at the same time. “Oh, uhh…”

You gave him a small smile, standing up already. “They should all be in the gym, right? Please show me the way there, I still get lost.”

Osamu would be damned if you kept smiling at him like that, making him stand right up with a sigh and hold the door open for you before leading you there. “Right this way, my lady.” At least he got to ask you about your favourite foods and other basic stuff that you didn’t mind answering on the way there.

Once again, he opened the door for you when you got to the gym, eyes quickly scanning around to see Suna already showing Atsumu the video. “Kita Shinsuke?” you asked loudly, looking around until you made eye contact with someone who seemed to respond to that name. The grey-haired boy came over, calmly asking you how he could help you while Osamu avoided eye contact but still didn’t want to leave your side. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but another teacher told me you’re familiar with the problem. I had this Miya in my class while it should have been the other one,” you informed him, almost letting their given names slip off your tongue. Osamu was tuned into your voice, but it was difficult to ignore the agitating voice of his brother, which he heard in the background.

Kita nodded with a confirming sound, dark in his throat as he glared to the side at Osamu. “My apologies, I will make sure they receive the proper consequences,” he said and bowed to you.

Osamu looked at you with a sheepish smile. “Thank you for following me here, I’ll see you around?” he asked, using his possibly last moment alive to look at you one more time with every ounce of charm he had left.

You huffed a small laugh, nodding and turning around to find your way back. “Sure, have fun at practice, Miya.”

Kita and Atsumu were both angry, but who cares?

Osamu Miya was in love.

You saw Osamu around a couple more times while substituting for other teachers, even stepping in for the volleyball coach once. Now that, was something.

“What’d ya think, coach?” Osamu asked you, quite frankly looking like a puppy after spiking and turning to you. You sighed, once again trying to act indifferent and ignore him while also treating him like any other student.

“That was great!” you said with some enthusiasm, also leaning a bit to the side to look at his twin. “And a great set as well!” So now you had two flustered Miya twins.

“Let’s try the soul swap, ‘Samu!” Atsumu roared with newfound vigour, and you could see Kita about to protest.

“Here we go, I should film this,” Suna snickered from somewhere beside you, and you couldn’t help but agree.

After a year, you were offered a permanent position at another school in the prefecture, meaning you didn’t really see any students from Inarizaki again. You had almost forgotten them by the time you walked past a sign that said Onigiri Miya after going to an interview for a higher position in another school.

You tilted your head, squinting at the sign as you tried to remember where you heard that before, and then you looked down and through the window. Jaw slack, you were looking at a much more grown version of your biggest fan, Miya Osamu.

Walking in, you were overwhelmed with the delicious smell, your chest filling with air as you took in a long breath. Then you walked over to the short line, standing behind a rather burly man, meaning Osamu probably hadn’t seen you yet. You got a bit nervous, almost wondering if he would actually remember you or not.

Finally, the line moved along and you were face to face with a mouth-watering man. Mouth-watering food! He was even taller than in high school, shoulders broader and body a bit beefier from choosing this line of work but probably still maintaining some workouts.

You had to shake your head a bit when you realised you were just staring, plastering on a smile and then realising he was staring too, looking pleasantly surprised. Perhaps it was inappropriate to suddenly be interested in him, but while an awkward age difference stopped you from looking at him like this before, he was now an adult and you suddenly saw him in a new light.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully before huffing when he accidentally knocked over a cup of pens, scrambling to pick them all up again and shuffle them back into the cup. He glanced up at you with that familiar sheepish smile. “What can I get you today, teach?” he asked, applying the nickname to further emphasise that he remembered you.

You could feel your ears turning red as you pursed your lips, and you were about as beautiful as he remembered. “I’d like two tuna mayo onigiris, please,” you requested, pulling your card out to pay while he was watching your every move. He was glad he already had a lot of food prepared at this time of day so he wouldn’t have to leave this station to make them for you.

“I thought you liked salmon, want to try one on the house?” he asked, somehow remembering your conversations back in high school. You were shocked for a moment before nodding.

“If you insist.”

He smirked, and it was so familiar yet the feeling it gave you was so new and exciting. “I sure do,” he confirmed and then put one on a plate to hand it over. No one had come in after you yet, luckily. “I haven’t seen ya in a long time, do ya live close by?” he asked hopefully, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I’m out on a job interview actually,” you said, taking a bite of the onigiri and sighing with appreciation at how delicious it was. Truly made with love. “So who knows, maybe I’ll be around here more.”

“Then you’re more than welcome to stop by again.”

You smiled at him, and it was warmer than the ones he had received from you before. “I’d love that. It’s a bit far from where I live, though.” Your voice drifted off, unsure if you were oversharing because you were nervous.

“Oh? How did ya end up applying for a job here, then?” he asked, moving around to grab some fresh onigiri in a box for you and taking an extra breath to calm his heartbeat.

“I’d say it’s destiny.”

masterlist

[thatonegenshinsimp]

Something’s Fishy Here (Merperson!reader)

Notes: My contribution to Mermay 2024 while I still have motivation to write this month.

Characters: Alhaitham, Diluc Ragnvindr, Wriothesley, Dainsleif, Neuvilette, Capitano

Warnings: mentions of physical violence

Masterlist

Alhaitham (Lemon Shark)

Sumeru was known as the land of kelp. It was a large kelp forest before the reefs of Fontaine and after the clear waters of Liyue and Mondstadt.

You, being one of the more curious members of the merfolk, had been traveling alone for a time.

Sumeru, as it happened, was one of the places you’d been wanting to visit the most.

That was when you first met Alhaitham, a lemon shark merman who was a tad more standoffish than most others of his subspecies.

You were a beta fish merperson, your tail frilled and colorful. It was one of your only defense mechanisms save for the shorter claws you had compared to other more aggressive merfolk that came from harsher places.

Alhaitham was, by all standards, a good lover to you. He treated you well and kept you safe if ever he saw someone as a threat.

One time, you accidentally flipped him over while you were bothering him and that was the day you realized what Tonic Immobility was.

He likes nuzzling your neck and is practically attached at the hip to you all evening after a long day apart from you.

Diluc Ragnvindr (Red Snapper)

You were a shark, so you often tended to be a bit of a loner.

That’s why you were so surprised to find that you had feelings for Diluc, a Red Snapper merman.

Diluc didn’t really know how to react when he found you were often there to help whenever he needed assistance, but he figured out why when you bared your teeth at Donna when she tried to make him uncomfortable and get in his personal space.

Soon enough, he plucked up the courage to ask you to be with him. He noticed you looked rather excited when he asked, and you happily said yes to him.

He definitely laughs when he realizes you can go into tonic immobility.

He doesn’t do it often, given that you’re in a trance for almost fifteen minutes every time he does it, but he does find it heavily amusing.

He likes staying close to you, given he rarely gets to have a break from work, so you usually help him with his work when you’re not working for the Adventurers Guild.

Wriothesley (Great White Shark)

Shark Wriothesley is the best Wriothesley

You were a swordfish merperson, but you quite liked being around Wriothesley even before you got into a relationship with him.

There’s a lot of hunting competitions between the two of you.

Wriothesley, despite knowing you can hold your own, definitely fights for you whenever you two get into any skirmishes with others because of his more instinct driven nature that rears its head in fights.

His territory is the Meropide Trenches that separate the north and south hemispheres of Fontaine’s waters.

He hates it when you flip him over. His tonic immobility lasts for a little over ten minutes, but he still hates it because it stresses him out.

He’s fiercely protective of you, but it’s because he loves you and doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Dainsleif (Greenland Shark)

He’s definitely a Greenland Shark merman in my personal opinion.

Khaenri’ah used to be a reef system, but during a tectonic shift, was sucked deeper down in the ocean, resulting in a tsunami due to the colliding tectonic plates.

The tsunami wiped out many in the population, which were sharks, and Dainsleif, cursed by the Seven alongside the other pureblood Khaenri’ahn people, slowly became a Greenland Shark, but his tail remained the same deep royal and navy blue colors it had always been, despite the fins morphing over time to tolerate the far lower depths of the sea.

That was when he met you, a snailfish merperson, who lived closer to the deeper depths of the trenches.

You got along well with him, and often visited him given how easily you traveled to the deeper parts of the trenches without any trouble.

He’s a tad more protective, but that’s because he doesn’t want to lose you as he has most of not all of the other people in his life.

Neuvilette (Swordfish)

Neuvilette is a swordfish merman, I’ll die on this hill.

Instead of being protective and possessive of you, he mostly just tries to avoid situations where you would need his protection.

He likes giving you gifts, it’s one of the ways he expresses his love for you.

Suddenly, your home is filled with little trinkets and shiny things he finds whenever he’s out and about in the reefs.

He also speaks to the melusines, who swim around with you when you’re unable to see him due to his work.

He likes physical touch, it’s one of the things that calms him down in the rare occasions where he gets angry.

Though he rarely shows it, he does often worry about you, even if you can defend yourself.

Capitano (Great White Shark)

Another shark merman.

Capitano is one of the larger shark merfolk, so he usually doesn’t even need to fight for someone to get the message to leave if they bother you.

You’d wandered into his territory by accident, but you, being a remora fish merperson, immediately thought he was friend shaped and swam up to say hi.

He’s perplexed by you. Few to none of the other merfolk in these waters swim within half a mile of his territory, but he’s certainly not one to refuse the company of someone as kind as you, so he lets you explore.

He slowly grows to realize he has feelings for you, and it’s only when he sees Dottore, a tiger shark, going after you that he realizes that he’d rather fight someone to the death than see you hurt.

After all, it ought to be only him biting you, and certainly not to kill you.

After that incident, he asks if you’ll be in a relationship with him, and you say yes.

He’s a good lover, and provides most anything you wish for.

He’d raze the whole ocean if only to see you happy.

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Nine

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.4K

Warnings: slightly suggestive but not really

Series Masterlist

Esteban Ocon was bringing her dinner. She hadn't met him before, but he'd been in the lounge once or twice. His height made him unmissable.

But why the hell was he bringing her dinner?

"Charles said to bring this to you," he said as he placed it on the table in front of her.

She stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. And then she leaned forward in her seat and checked inside of the bag. "Charles asked you to bring this to me?"

When he nodded, a grin lit up her face. "Holy fuck, that's so cute," she mumbled and pulled the food from the bag. "Where is he tonight, anyway?"

Esteban shrugged his shoulders. "Doing something for Lorenzo, I think."

It continued on in this manner for a few weeks. Charles would bring her dinner and, if he couldn't, Esteban would (she'd gotten to know Esteban pretty well since he started bringing her food. He was funny, somewhat easy to get along with).

But her favourite evenings were the ones with Charles. He'd get there early for his own piano lesson (could you call it a lesson if the piano ended up abandoned and she ended up on his lap?) and run out for food between her performances.

She'd developed a habit of running late for the second half of her performance. But Charles was just so convincing when his fingers were dancing to the side and hooking her underwear to the side.

But Arthur was starting to catch on. Arthur was starting to get annoyed.

It wasn't often he got to watch her perform. She might have been one of his best friends, sure, but he was a busy guy. But every time he'd been at a performance recently, they were behind schedule, by a lot.

He couldn't pretend he didn't see his brother making his way backstage between every performance. Plus, the lounge was getting more complaints than normal (which wasn't a lot of complaints, but Arthur was used to none).

It was a Thursday when he finally decided to follow his brother backstage. He saw the small pastry container Charles was carrying (because, face it, they couldn't have take out every single night) and followed him to the back rooms.

"Aha!"

It didn't have to be such a dramatic, "gotcha" moment. But Arthur was "French", everything he did was dramatic. "I knew it!"

They weren't even doing anything. But the two were still like deer caught in headlights, frozen as Charles went to open the pastry box.

"Arthur," she started. "What?"

He gestured to the two of them. "I knew it! I knew this!"

Her eyebrows were raised and she spared a look at Charles before turning her attention back to Arthur. "Knew that your brother sometimes brings me pastries as a way of thanking me for the piano lessons I've given him?"

Arthur's face dropped. "What? No," he insisted with a shake of his head. "I know about you two, I know that you're doing the nasty."

She repeated the words back to him, just so that he could hear how ridiculous they sounded.

As funny as keeping up this charade was, Charles was becoming bored. Not bored in the sense that he wanted to find something else to do. But why shouldn't Arthur know? The sooner Arthur knew, the sooner he could bring her around to meet his maman. Only good things could come from Arthur knowing, he thought.

So, Charles spoke up, interrupting them. "Would you be angry?" He asked his little brother. "If there was something happening between us?" His hand fell into her own and he laced their fingers together.

And suddenly, Arthur straightened up his posture. He'd expected Charles to like her, of course. But this was all happening very first. And it was affecting his business, and that was what really got to Arthur.

"You guys can do whatever you want," he said honestly, "but don't let it affect my lounge, or I'm kicking both your asses out of here." He checked the time on his watch. "Speaking of, you need to get back on stage."

She stood, held her hand to her head and saluted. "Yes sir," she said in jest.

Before she could run off to the stage, Charles had a gentle grip on her wrist. He used his free hand to tear a piece of the muffin away from the rest and held it up to her mouth. Gratefully, she took it. "Love you," she said through the mouthful as she fixed her makeup, but it came out more like 'wov oo'.

And, as she ran off to the stage, Charles sat back in his seat, staring at the door she had excited through. There was a certain amount of shock on his face as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Don't tell me that's the first time you guys have said it," Arthur mumbled as he sat down opposite his brother. The soft, melodic sounds of the piano filled the room.

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. It had been a matter of weeks. God, a month and a half ago she'd been terrified of him. Surely she couldn't love him.

But that was what she'd said, wasn't it. She'd said she loved him. Why would she have said that if she hadn't?

"Well," Arthur began as he reached across the table for the rest of the muffin (he couldn't help but be surprised when Charles actually let him take it), "do you love her?"

It wasn't the most comforting thing Arthur could have said. But would telling Charles that she hadn't meant it romantically have made it worse or better? Either way, that wasn't what he said.

Charles didn't answer. He kept his head in his hands as he stared towards the door.

Arthur offered him a piece of muffin (of the muffin Charles had bought). "Relax, she won't be offended if you don't say it back."

"She won't?"

"Probably doesn't realise she's said it."

"She doesn't?"

Arthur gave his brother a sympathetic look. "Come on, let's get you a drink and watch the rest of the show."

***

He'd only had two drinks the night before. And Charles was grateful for that. He wouldn't have survived this meeting with Lorenzo without it.

"You want me to what?"

"Go to Italy," Lorenzo repeated.

For the life of him, Charles couldn't fathom why. The Leclerc family had deals in place with the Ferrari family ever since the first Monaco Grand Prix. They'd never crossed paths again. Not until now, anyway.

"If the Ferrari's think they can screw us over, they've got another thing coming," said Lorenzo. He threw a folder in Charles's direction, one Charles slid into the inside of his jacket.

The Ferrari's were car manufacturers, not a crime family. This might have been the easiest assignment of Charles's life. That was why he found himself running to her apartment, folder still tucked in his jacket.

The 'love you' incident hadn't played on his mind anymore since Arthur had calmed him down. It wasn't a romantic moment, so why should he overthink it? He knocked on the door and waited patiently, keenly aware that he was patient for nobody else.

And then, dressed in pyjamas, she pulled open the door. She barely got a 'good morning' out before Charles was on her, cupping her cheeks as he kissed her.

"Come with me to Italy," he said as he pulled away and pressed his forehead against her own.

Her eyes were lighting up from the very idea of it. "Seriously, Charles? You seriously want to take me to Italy?"

"Of course I do," he answered. "I can get Arthur to get someone in to cover at The Lounge, can get him to give you holiday pay and stuff. Just, let me take you away."

She didn't have to think about it much, did she. "Okay," she said, grin splitting across her face as she nodded. "Okay, yes, take me away, Charles Leclerc." She pushed him onto her sofa and pounced.

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