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mysteria157 · 4 months

Text

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light Profanity, Light Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Fingering, Mentions of Cunnilingus, Public Sex (Sort of), Office Sex

WC: ~9.8k

Summary:

Nanami may be disconnected from social media trends, but he’s not oblivious. He’s overheard the crass innuendos and seen the tasteless memes on Yuji's phone. He knows the vulgar things some men say—about how excited they get when the summer begins.

It always seemed so stupid and dramatic to Nanami, who has never had a straying eye to actually see if the rumors were true. But now that you’ve come into his life…he gets it.

Oh, he gets it.

Sundress season.

Notes: Hello! Had a random thought this morning and decided to roll with it and practice writing Nanami some more. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this one-shot.

This is a prime example of me writing smut when I feel like it. Please do not ask me for more related to this story and please do not ask me to write smut, the answer is no lol. This is just a one-shot of a random idea, please enjoy it for what it is lol. Thank you all for understanding!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @arminsumi | Header: made by myself

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter |

The city summers are a different kind of hell. The humid heat clings to Nanami, making his skin feel instantly tacky as if he hasn’t showered in days. It wreaks havoc on his usual crisp suit and tie, causing the fabric to stubbornly adhere in unflattering ways. He thinks back wistfully to his bachelor days when he could simply escape such misery by holing up inside with the AC blasting, and then wait until the evening for a walk or to run errands. But that was before you came into his life like a vivacious sunbeam, all warmth and carefree laughter.

Now, he wouldn’t dream of depriving you of simple joys like strolling hand-in-hand through the park, watching you bask in nature’s dazzling seasonal shifts. The fragrant flowers blooming, the fireflies flickering to life as dusk settles, the earthy pre-rain smell you adore—he lives for the ease of these tranquil moments.

Throughout your relationship, Nanami has cataloged your ever-changing looks to match the passing seasons. The oversized chunky sweaters and leggings you’d cuddle up in during fall’s crisp breezes. The sleek peacoats and woolen scarves wound around your neck when winter blanketed the city in soft stillness.

But summertime is when your vibrant spirit and personal style shines. And it’s Nanami’s first summer with you when everything changes.

It always seemed so stupid and dramatic to Nanami, who has never had a straying eye to actually see if the rumors were true. But now that you’ve come into his life…he gets it.

Oh, he gets it.

Sundress season.

And it’s a season that has awoken something primal within him. Something in his gut stirs, something in his mind shifts and the more he notices, the more he feels like a lecherous old man instead of the well-mannered one in his late twenties. While his clothes stick uncomfortably to his sweat-slicked skin you get to slip into breezy summer dresses that let every inch of your beautiful body breathe.

As an event planner constantly on the move, you seem to live in the wispy, colorful outfits at all hours of the day. Like the buttercup yellow and candy pink number currently floating around you as you stroll together to the bakery during your shared lunch hour. It’s modest—cotton fabric that doesn’t stick to you, with ruffle short sleeves and a V-neckline that highlights your collarbones and the delicate diamond necklace resting between.

Nanami risks a sidelong glance, instantly regretting it when his gaze gets trapped by the way the bright floral pattern sways and twists with each step you take. The hem brushes the brown skin of your knees and while he can’t see much, Nanami knows the soft curves hidden underneath the airy fabric intimately.

While the caveman part of him can understand the underlying meaning of sundress season, it’s everything else that flares his want for you. It’s the wild curls that brush your cheeks and neck, the diamond earrings that reflect in the sun, the curl of your long lashes that kiss your lower lids when you blink. And yes—the gorgeous dress that you have on enhances everything about you—but in the most basic sense, you are beautiful.

“You’re staring.” It’s a playful accusation that you direct at him even though your eyes are admiring the tulips that you both walk past.

He quickly averts his eyes, sharp cheeks blazing a fiery red. “My apologies I…” Nanami clears his throat, struggling to regain his usual unruffled demeanor. “That dress looks lovely on you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, pausing so he can open the bakery door for you. “You think so? I just picked it up last week. Perfect for this heat, isn’t it?”

Nanami swallows hard at the teasing tilt to your tone, the innocent question feeling anything but. From the very first day he met you—that very first day you knocked back a glass of expensive whiskey and smiled at him as if it was nothing—he’s come to accept that you have no reservations of flustering him. You thrive on it, and for as stiff as Nanami is, you are a breath of fresh air that he never imagined would slide into his lungs.

Umber eyes watch you walk ahead of him and into the welcoming AC of the bakery, tantalizing calves flexing with each step.

“Very much…” is all he can manage, hastily ripping his eyes away again as his equilibrium dangerously shifts.

You laugh lightly at his sudden silence, the warm, rich sound simultaneously soothing his thundering heart and making it trip up all over again. “You act like you’ve never seen me in a dress before.”

“You know that’s not true,” he mutters, switching his gaze to the menu to avoid your entirely too-innocent smile. “I simply…appreciate fine things.”

The rich ring of your answering chuckle sends molten desire licking traitorously down his spine. “Is that so? Then I’ll have to acquire more of these stunning ‘fine things’ for you to appreciate this summer…”

He should have known better than to egg you on. Had he kept his eyes to himself and brushed off your knowing glances, he could have enjoyed you without your playful watch. But for as smart as Nanami is, for as observant and vigilant in his work as he is in his life outside of it, he can never wrap his head around how devious you truly are.

One day, the weather calms down enough for lunch at the park. It’s the perfect day to eat outside. The sun is high in the sky but the canopy of trees gives you both the protection you need from harsh rays.

“Need any help setting up?” You call out, shrugging off the ice denim jacket from your shoulders to reveal this summer’s newest addition—an angelic white sundress adorned with delicate lace trim.

Nanami’s throat tightens and he shakes his head, unfurling a blue blanket onto the thick grass below you both. “I can do it, love. Please just relax.”

He carefully arranges the picnic blanket, spreading the wrinkles free before you plop down on one side. As you dig into the large lunchbox, he admires the crisp white cotton that seems to skim over your frame, covering you but still unable to touch. Thin straps leave your shoulders bare, your skin glowing in the sun from your shimmery sunscreen. No necklace this time, so the square neckline dips just enough to offer a subtle hint of cleavage. The stretchy ribbed material hugs and accentuates every lush curve before gently flaring into an effortless, free-flowing skirt.

You purse your lips and furrow your brow in concentration, leaning more over the lunchbox, your back straightening to steady yourself before he watches free of shame as you arch just so.

When you turn to flash him that achingly fond smile, your curls falling over one shoulder, all traces of decency flee from Nanami’s mind. In that moment, he’s transported back to those dizzying early days of your relationship—entirely captivated, yet utterly terrified of somehow shattering this dazzling, undeserved connection between you.

“Thirsty?” You hold out one of the banana milk boxes that he’s grown to love since your presence, an impish quirk of your brow, clearly aware of his slow descent into hell.

Nanami nods jerkily and takes the milk box, unable to find his voice for a beat. As you settle down gracefully beside him, the skirt drifts up in a gentle billow, shaping to and showcasing skin. He has to tear his eyes away from the wicked flashes of toned thigh with extreme willpower.

Like the devil you are, you toss him a coy smirk, shiny lip gloss clear even though he knows it tastes like strawberry. “We gonna eat or are you just gonna gawk at me like a weirdo?”

He can’t help the scoff that leaves him as he pulls out sandwiches for you both. “I thought you liked when I gawk at you.”

“Not when I’m hungry.”

He shakes his head, smirking softly as he removes the cling wrap before handing you your half, your fingers brushing against his. Warm pleasure blooms in his chest at the radiant sight you make contrasted against the swaying greenery. It’s as if you don’t belong but he couldn’t imagine you anywhere else. You take a generous bite of your sandwich, a smear of mustard in the crease of your lips as you offer him a gentle smile.

As the scorching summer rages, Nanami can’t help but chastise himself. A mundane and childish social meme has become the representation of the hardest test he’s ever taken. Maybe he should have asked for tips from Yuji on how to better prepare himself.

He’s always prided himself on admiring from afar, on controlling his emotions in public and savoring them later in private. He knows your beauty and the unintentional way you drain the air around him. But he’s always been able to offer that soft smile, place a hand on your shoulder or your waist and offer a compliment to whatever you’ve chosen to wear for the day. But recently, in the face of your summertime wardrobe choices, Nanami finds that steely discipline faltering at an alarming rate.

Sinking deeper into the plush living room sofa, Nanami exhales a deep sigh and allows the tension thrumming through his shoulders to bleed away. Here, surrounded by the apartment’s climate-controlled sanctuary, he can savor these increasingly rare moments of solitary peace sprawled out with a good book. It’s a well-deserved shared day off for you both—free of schedules, obligations, or anything more strenuous than lounging around with each other. And more importantly, at home, you’re nothing but comfortable clothes and soft pajamas.

He’s safe.

A wry smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he imagines the look of feigned innocence you always sport whenever he gets too overt about appreciating your seasonal attire. As if you don’t know the absolutely devastating effect even the simplest hair toss or twirl has on what’s left of his challenging self-restraint these days.

It’s going to be a great day. He’s almost done with this book, just three more chapters and then he can start another in his pile that he wants to tackle this summer. That’s right, Nanami Kento is going to—

The soft pad of your bare feet against the hardwood floors has Nanami glancing up instinctively from behind the novel’s pages. And just like that, the world around him completely whites out as if he’s been hit over the head with a brick.

You’ve emerged from the hallway in a yellow sundress so vibrantly captivating, so deliciously clingy and effortlessly suggestive that he nearly swallows his tongue in surprise. The rich gold hue kisses the deep tone of your skin, as if you’re a sunflower blooming under the artificial lighting of the apartment. The dress accentuates your shape in the most brazenly tantalizing way—the thin ruffle straps on your shoulders, the sweetheart neckline hinting at full cleavage, the dress’ light hem hitting indecently high on your thighs in playful flirty wisps.

But it’s the stretchy knit fabric’s complete inability to disguise any curve or meaty swell that really has Nanami sitting up straighter on the cushions. It’s not layered well enough—almost transparent—and the snug material leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, from the outline of bright panties that cover the soft spread of your hips to the pert dusky points outlined beneath the bodice.

Absolutely devastating and on full, confident display and this isn’t fair because he has three chapters left.

He barely registers the “What are you reading?” you offer him over one shoulder as you stroll towards the kitchen area in that swaying, uninhibited saunter that never fails to ignite his senses. Nanami simply sits there transfixed—one hand gripping the spine of his book while the other claws restlessly against his own inner thigh. Each roll of your hips has that thin dress swishing and lifting in tiny torturous glimpses that have his imagination veering wildly into unrestrained territory. But he’s at home, that’s okay right?

That’s when you shift your weight onto the tips of your toes, your back turned to him, stretching up towards the top cabinets with one hand braced against the counter…and the entire world seems to judder to a halt all over again. Because from this new vantage point, Nanami can’t tear his eyes away from the call of your legs, the dimples on the backs of your thighs, up, up to the hem and—

A guttural sound wrenches free from low in his diaphragm, a mix of a groan and a growled curse. He looks back down to his book, searching aimlessly for where he left off, flickering back over to you just as quick.

He should look away, tear his eyes off of the gloriously indecent picture you’ve unwittingly created simply by existing. And yet…Nanami finds his stare burning an increasingly blazing trail down the bewitching ‘V’ between your shoulder blades, past the delicious dip of your arched lower back to the toned flare of your thighs and calves below.

At one point, you bend even deeper at the waist, hips tilting up as you struggle to reach a particularly elusive item on the high shelf. The filmy yellow skirt jumps and flirts up with the motion, granting Nanami a shameless eyeful of toned thighs and the flash of his favorite pair of panties—lilac with lace along the edges that squeeze the skin of your ass in the most inviting way. He very nearly drops the book from his suddenly slack fingers at the sight, hissing out a low curse between his teeth.

You huff out an adorable sound of frustration as you fail to reach whatever item you’re going for, and he knows he should step in to assist like the gentleman he is. But his stare remains rooted to spot, ogling and committing it all to memory so he can think about it later—alone.

“Let me get that,” he finally manages to scrape out, voice gone low and gritty with naked yearning despite his best efforts at nonchalance.

You shoot him one of those bright, beaming smiles over your shoulder in response—blissfully unaware of the effect your glowing, ethereal beauty has on him even without your intentional teasing. “Just grabbing the flour for dinner,” you explain sheepishly, leaning into his broad form as he comes up behind you and grabs the ingredient on the top shelf. “I always have trouble reaching.”

And isn’t that just symbolic as all hell? His curvy, tempting beloved constantly hovering just beyond his reach these past few weeks—unattainable without discarding every last vestige of control he has. It isn’t like you both don’t have sex. You do…often. There’s just always been a build up, never anything explosive.

Even in the privacy of your home, he’s never thrown caution to the wind. Nanami has always been one to savor every calculated build of pleasure in its precious sequence. You’ve expressed your satisfaction readily enough, reciprocating his passion with that same rapturous abandon you bring to all aspects of life. But in all the years of his tiring, overworked life, you are the first to show him what it feels like to never walk a predetermined line.

“This is…I’ve never seen you wear it inside,” Nanami manages, his throat feeling increasingly dry as his eyes trace the line of fabric on your shoulders.

You take the flour from him, shooting him a sly, knowing look from beneath your lashes as you turn to face him fully. “It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think?”

He can’t stop the reflexive glance that rakes over every inch of you. “It’s sixty-eight degrees.”

You lean in a fractional amount—just enough for the swell of your breasts to brush against his shirt as you crane up towards his face. “Well, I run hot,” you murmur, voice dropping into the pits of hell, a throaty register that bypasses Nanami’s higher cognitive functions entirely.

He’s beyond undone. Frozen in place with desperate, rapturous hunger raging through his very marrow. This close, he can make out the small raised moles on your exposed shoulders, the genetic blemishes that are common for your skin tone. He gets a better view of the rigid peaks of your nipples straining against the thin fabric, practically begging for the heated and dripping touch of his mouth that he’s always more than happy to bestow upon you.

His fingertips clench and relax at his sides, held back only by tremendous reserves of willpower from reaching out to map and relearn every soft, silken plane of feminine heat and temptation currently being dangled in front of him like a prize he still can’t win.

You take in the undisguised wanting and torment written large across his features with a look of utter satisfaction. Then, before he can formulate some slurred plea for relief, you spin on one heel and saunter out of his reach—hips undulating hypnotically beneath that flimsy gauze of material in an alluring farewell.

Only once you finally disappear around the corner does Nanami manage to sag forwards—palms braced on the counter as he attempts to draw steady lungfuls of air back into his oxygen-starved body.

By the time he plops back on the sofa, and opens the spine of his book, the desire to read is gone.

You take pity on him for a few weeks after that searing afternoon in the kitchen. Your outside adventures are marked by breathable athletic leggings paired with loose tank tops that drape and show you off…but in a far tamer, less flagrantly teasing way than before.

Even at home, the soft cotton shorts and tees you lounge around in provide Nanami some solace—the casual fabrics leaving just enough to the imagination rather than putting every mouth-watering curve on display.

Your usual playful flirtations also seem to be dialed back during this oasis period. As if you’re allowing the poor man a chance to realign his senses and regain some semblance of control. It allows him time to resettle back into some of his usual regimented routines. Without you on a mission at the periphery of his awareness constantly, stoking those primal fires, he finds himself able to slip back into the role of polished, tired professional and attentive partner with relative ease.

Perhaps a bit too easily, if he’s being honest with himself. Because before he can even register the transition, that fleeting grace period seems to dissolve back into the heady summer ether as quickly as it had begun.

The warm evening air smells of charcoal and citronella as Nanami moves through the crowd, trying yet failing to focus on anything but you. All around him, friends and coworkers intermingle while indulging in ice-cold drinks and delicious food fresh off the smoker. He loves food, especially Yuki's cooking when she hosts a barbecue.

But none of it registers tonight.

Because every sensory nerve-ending in his body is completely captivated and overwhelmed by the vision you make in that deep red sundress.

The rich crimson chiffon swirls and caresses over your body in sinuous waves of delicious color. You’re bathed in red, as if rose petals have unfurled and stitched themselves together to form the beautiful dress on your body. It’s a maxi dress that sweeps down to your ankles and kisses the straps of your block heels. Scorching flashes of full thighs are visible through the flowing slits on each side. The deep v-neck dips in a daring drop that leaves your sternum and the inner sides of your breasts achingly exposed.

Each step you take has the delicate material clinging and drifting in the most hypnotic dance around your heavenly form. Nanami tracks the rhythmic sway of your hips with a burning stare, his control splintering a little more with every toss of your head that allows the deep brown of your skin to wink at him from the column of your neck.

Yuki is already three wine coolers in—not a lot for most, but more than enough for her to throw decorum to the wind. From across the backyard, Choso watches with an indulgent smile as his partner bobs off-beat to the soft music flowing from the speakers.

Choso's expression of pure adoration mirrors the way Nanami looks at you when he thinks no one else is watching. They share that unspoken understanding, that bone-deep contentment of being completely enraptured by the women they love.

At one point, the music shifts, more alcohol disappears, and Yuki is hauling you to the makeshift dance floor of the backyard. Nanami tries, he really, really does. But everything about you makes him stand at attention. Breathing, walking, laughing, smiling at nothing, and now—with just one rock of your hips to the music—his eyes are locked in.

You’ve never been a good dancer. But you’ve also never cared of the expectation to be a good one either. And Yuki is an extroverted pull that makes you sway more, that makes your shoulders roll and laughter to bubble from your lips as you watch your friend make a fool of herself.

Nanami runs a hand through his thick blonde locks, disrupting the careful part he made before you both left the apartment earlier in the evening. The other hand clutches a glass of scotch a little tighter, the condensation sliding against his fingers before he takes a generous swig, his eyes not once leaving you.

You can feel him before you even look over, and when you do lock with Nanami’s deep brown gaze from across the yard, you throw him a soft look from beneath your lashes as you slowly roll your hips. It’s the same motion of your hips that he got to feel last night with you straddling him, panting against his lips in the middle of the night.

Outwardly sensual in only a way he can recognize amongst everyone around him. But it’s your rapturous, carefree expression of pure bliss that simultaneously enchants and undoes the last tattered remains of his composure. With every movement, you embody the very essence of feminine energy—raw, joyful, and utterly free. You are a vision of untamed beauty, a wild goddess of the summer night come to life in a swirling dreamscape of rich ruby chiffon.

The erotic, carnal urge to chase after your swaying, taunting form and haul you away to some shadowed corner where he can divest you of that sinful dress is overwhelming. Swallowing hard, Nanami averts his burning stare for fear of literally combusting on the spot.

“You alright there, buddy?” Yu's familiar voice cuts through the lusty fog, tinged with the warm charm of a couple beers down. “You look like you’re about to swallow your tongue or something.”

“I…excuse me,” is all Nanami can grate out, the remark feeling like fragments of glass as he speaks. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply stalking off through the open patio door and into the thankfully dim and cool interior of Yuki and Choso's home. Anything to escape your enticing presence for even a single moment.

The music and laughter from outside feels muffled as he sinks down onto the living room sofa in the shadows—rubbing distractedly at his thundering chest. But it does nothing to get rid of the vision of you dancing so wantonly and on unrestrained display in that gorgeous ruby sundress.

Where are you even getting them? Online? Or is there a store that he doesn’t know about? He hasn’t seen other women in the city wearing dresses like you do. But then again…Nanami doesn’t really pay attention unless it’s you.

His fingers grip the plush armrest of the sofa until the knuckles strain white, breath sawing harsh and ragged from his heaving lungs. Nanami squeezes his eyes shut, forcing himself to visualize anything other than the way that lightweight crimson had drifted and kissed over your thighs that peeked between side slits, the growing sheen of sweat between the generous canvas of your chest, the exposed slope of your neck free of curls—a spot of concealer on the side to hide the mark he gave you last night.

A harsh exhale escapes him as he forces his eyes open, only to instantly regret it. The muted sounds of the party filter in from outside—sweet laughter, the low thrum of bass, the periodic high-pitched squeal of your voice crying out at Yuki to get a hold of herself.

Nanami’s stomach clenches raggedly at that sound, arousal stroking down his spine in sweltering waves. Through the clear glass of the patio door, he can see the way your face lights up in pure rapturous joy as you give in to yourself. The subtle shifts and gyrations of your body in time with the beat, each swivel of your hips like a siren’s call.

Against his volition, imagination melds into memory, replaying the countless times he’s buried his face between your thighs and simply drank in the celestial sounds of your pleasure until his name was a breathless gasp on your lips. That shrieking cry at Yuki almost the same towards him when he licks at your sensitive nerves one too many times. He forces his gaze away, leans his head back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling.

The music fluctuates once more, that instantly recognizable intro to the next funky summer hit you adore cuing up. Despite the walls between you, Nanami can still acutely pick up the subtle cadence of your movements in time with that danceable rhythm. He knows the exact choreography of hips and legs that song inspires in you…and his slacks suddenly feel far too confining.

That’s when your voice cuts through the relative quiet like a bolt of lightning, somehow even closer now as you call out—half-playful chiding, half siren’s promise.

“Oh Kentooo…” The singsong inflection has his eyes squeezing shut even as his cock shamefully twitches against it’s restrictive fabric prison. “Where has my favorite salaryman gone off to hide? You know I can’t dance without my partner watching me.”

Gritting his teeth against the dark, full-bodied groan that tries to escape, Nanami hunches forward until his elbows are digging into his thighs. There you stand framed in the patio door, backlit in a devastating silhouette by the lantern lights emanating through the loud yard behind you.

You walk closer in that torturous dress, the double layers trailing languidly behind in currents of fabric that have his throat struggling to swallow. Your stunning frame is practically dripping in sensual confidence and self-assured power. He knows the power you have over him and would sooner swallow his favorite tie than give that up.

The rich carmine floats around you in sinuous waves as you sashay closer to where Nanami sits transfixed on the sofa. And with each step, all manners and decorum that have been taught to him fizzle away with the increasing ache in his jeans.

“Like what you see?” you murmur huskily once you’ve prowled to stand between his legs, allowing Nanami an unfettered view of your neckline, the long gold necklace between your breasts winking at him with each shallow intake of breath. You lift one leg to press a knee onto his powerful thigh—close enough for your perfume to slide down his nostrils and cloud his mind. The slit over your bent knee flutters open in an obscene gap, granting his hooded gaze a glimpse of skin his teeth ache to bite into.

“I asked,” you breathe out in a seductive timbre, near enough for Nanami to actually taste the addictive warmth of your presence on his tongue. “If you like what you see…”

The inhale that rattles through his powerful frame is involuntary. So is the compulsive way his fingertips suddenly flex against the cushion with the overwhelming urge to finally reacquaint himself with the soft temptation of your skin. Others be damned, mannerisms of being a respectful guest falling to the wayside.

Somewhere through the rapidly thickening haze of pure liquid arousal, Nanami manages a jerky nod—unable to summon even the most basic of syllables in response. He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing convulsively as you arch one delicious eyebrow in a silent challenge. With your beautiful curls pulled up into a high ponytail, he can see the slope of your ears that are adorned with the gold hoops he bought you last month.

Then, before he can gather enough of his scattered wits to chastise you for your behavior, you’re boldly reaching out and capturing one of his clenching fists in a firm grip. A soft grunt rattles up from deep in Nanami’s chest at the heated feel of your palm finally making purchase on his overheated skin.

But his breath hitches in a harsh inhale as you purposefully guide his splayed fingers towards your exposed leg—sliding his hand up excruciatingly slow to caress along the landscape of textures and planes laid out in offering. He expects the generous hem of panties he’s seen time and time again. He knows what they look like in his mind when he teases the edges before slipping inside to graze his fingers along your aching clit. But the calloused pads of his fingertips brush the thin string of a thong instead. And it’s just a single touch that has him wide-eyed, reeling—the edges of his vision dizzying into a hazy fog of aching, inexplicable need.

You should have come with a manual. Surely there’s a guide to get through the summer months with you? Some sort of text to explain the steps he needs to take to keep himself in control in public?

The rapturous throb of your saphenous vein leaps against his fingertips as you allow him to slant just a hairsbreadth further—close enough to feel the heat of the place he’s been countless times before—close enough to slide a thick finger along fabric he knows is wet.

Only for you to tear your hand away and drop your knee as the sound of Yuki's voice pierces the heavy sensual tension hanging between your bodies.

“There you are!” She calls out cheerfully from the sliding glass door. “My song is on, come dance with me!”

There’s a gentle tuft of laughter from you then—one tinged with dark satisfaction as you drink in the wrecked, wanton expression flaming across Nanami’s features. As if thoroughly enjoying reducing him to this strung-out state of desperation. You could rule the world if given the right resources.

“Yuki, let’s get you some water. You’ve had a little too much to drink…” your voice trails off as you disappear in a rustle of vermilion and sashaying hips with one last loaded look over your bare shoulder.

He manages a shuddering breath that feels more like sandpaper sliding down his abused lungs. The delicious scent of your perfume still clings to the charged air around him, the phantom-like caress of your dress along his knuckles, the sound of your throaty laugh disappearing back to the party outside. Each ragged exhale has his body subtly canting forward, giving silent chase to your retreating form as if by muscle memory alone.

This game…this deliciously maddening game you delight in playing has Nanami’s entire being teetering on the razor-thin edge of unraveling completely. Each new summer ensemble seems specifically designed to further tempt and destroy the decades of discipline he’s meticulously cultivated since he was a teenager.

Nanami would think after a relationship or two, he would have steeled himself against falling victim to seduction. And yet, not a single woman from his past could have prepared Nanami for the devastating combination of your radiant beauty and barely-restrained hedonism.

Your laughter calls out to him again, his eyes snapping up to see you smiling as Yuki chugs the glass of water Choso has pressed to her lips. Completely innocent and free of devilish qualities, the fact that Nanami knows that dark side of you makes him fold his arms across his chest, sagging against the sofa and glaring at your form as he wills his erection to go down.

It’s two days before summer’s end when Nanami feels the steadily fraying threads of his self-control finally unravel into oblivion. He’s tried every possible tactic these last few months to stave off the relentless fire of desire you’ve been stoking within him—going for runs, ice cold showers, avoiding you when possible. He’s even resorted to having you model your newest sundress purchases at home in a desperate attempt at desensitizing himself. It all seems incredibly dramatic, but Nanami has no idea what else to do. Nothing has worked against the intoxicating mix of your lively beauty and increasingly bold choices designed to torment him until he’s six feet under.

He had known from the moment he accidentally stumbled upon that fateful periwinkle dress sitting in your laptop’s shopping cart that it would be his undoing. He can still picture with perfect clarity the way the model seemed to shimmer and dance on the screen as he clicked through the product imagery—he pictured it with heart throbbing clarity how it would look on you.

And he still has so many more years left of his life to enjoy.

Without conscious thought, Nanami had swiftly removed the item from the cart—an invasion of privacy that left him nauseous, but a necessary decision if only to spare himself.

He was stupid to think it would actually work.

So it comes as little surprise to see you boldly flaunting that silken number tonight at the rooftop gala marking his company’s most prosperous quarter yet. The twinkling strings of lantern bulbs and hot summer breezes swirling all around you only heighten the flagging warning that this night won’t end the way he wants.

As you glide about the rooftop, the pale periwinkle seems to float effortlessly around your body. Like every dress before, this one is no exception, complimenting the deepness of your skin. The whisper-weight fabric lays against your hips and waist, simultaneously shaping and gracefully draping in all the right places.

The thin straps crisscross behind your neck, framing your graceful shoulders and collarbones. As you turn, the silk lifts and drifts around you in a mesmerizing swirl of decadence. It’s another plunging V-neckline, but this dress sits on your body and decolletage with an air of romantic grace. It’s not scandalous like that night at Yuki and Choso's.

But it’s the back—oh it’s the back that makes his gaze heavy, that makes the organ in his chest beat out of rhythm with every inch he uncovers. Try as he might, it’s absolutely impossible for him to look away from the delicate contours and valleys of your body put on full and enthralling display by this backless dress. From the elegant lines of your throat and shoulders left teasingly bare to the soft inward curve of your arched lower back—the dress is a cruel temptation showcasing every salivating inch of you that he’s spent countless nights worshiping.

It’s beautiful on you, truly and unimaginably beautiful, and it’s a terrible twist of fate that such a simple observation is destroying Nanami from the inside. All that discipline—the cold showers, the extra miles added to his runs, the attempts of desensitization—it’s useless. No matter how hard he tries, he will always notice something new each time he looks at you. And it will always wreck him and throw him off axis whether he likes it or not.

Because amidst all the warmth and sociability of this rooftop celebration, all Nanami’s rapidly sharpening focus can zero in on is the subtle glisten of perspiration trailing down the slope of your spine. Every imperceptible turn and cock of your hip amplified tenfold by the silk that gets to touch you while he watches. As if personally daring him to finally surrender every last shred of patience and simply take what he wants.

A soft chuckle escapes your full lips as Nanami’s boss leans in closer, undoubtedly regaling you with some far from amusing anecdote from the office. The charming sound has every thread of Nanami’s control taut like a bowstring. Because that sound means a lot for him nowadays—laughing at his dry humor, the movies you both watch together, the giggling stuttering into whimpers and moans of ecstasy when your back arches from his tongue.

Suddenly, the light summer breeze kicks up in and swirls around you, waving the hem of your dress and the two-day old twistout on your head. Instinctively, you reach up to tuck a lock of those dark silken twists behind one ear.

Time itself seems to slow as he watches those inky tendrils ghost across your bare shoulders and the exposed skin of your upper back. Nanami watches with visceral hunger as those wild strands make playful, meandering paths across the smoothly toned expanse of brown skin. His entire body instantaneously flushes with hot need and arousal at the simple, harmless image. The soft rise of your breasts shake as you offer a fake laugh to whatever drivel your boss has just said. And in that split second—the culmination of tonight, this dress, the entire summer of taunting and coy smiles— Nanami’s restraint finally shatters into so many useless slivers at his feet.

Before conscious thought can override anything else, he’s stalking across the rooftop with rigid, predatory intensity—adjusting the unique glasses on his nose, his mouth set in a grim line of single-minded focus. The gaggle of chattering coworkers and small-talk banter all fade away into muted static and white noise. All that exists in this heated vortex of Nanami’s rapidly narrowing universe is the coiling pull of you.

“Ah, Nanami!” His boss greets heartily, clearly surprised yet pleased to see the company’s best worker at last. “Your partner and I were just discussing a better way to spruce up the quarterly party for next year. Care to weigh in, my friend?”

The question lands on deaf ears. Because at the exact same instant his professional mentor is extending that olive branch of attempted small talk…your eyes are on his, a knowing, small smile pressed to the hem of your champagne glass as you take a sip. The sight of your jewelry, the fabric against your skin, the way you look at him…the desire that rips through his body is staggering.

“I apologize for interrupting, but I need to speak with you,” he grates out in a tone heavy with gravel and masculine focus. His palm finds the smoldering heat of your lower back without conscious thought, marking delirious patterns of desire against your naked skin. Your eyebrows furrow with a silent question at the rough timbre of his command…even though you see that undisguised storm of hunger and frustrated desire raging behind his tinted glasses.

“Of course,” you finally murmur and turn to his coworkers to wish them goodbye, setting down your glass on the table beside you.

He’s burning, raging with a fever that doesn’t even exist and each shallow inhale draws more of your achingly familiar perfume into his senses—only making things worse.

He guides you through the crowded rooftop party and towards the elevators with a molten intensity bordering on feral. Nanami’s palm maps possessive into the searing expanse of your back. Every step jostles his arm flush against the silk on your frame.

“Where exactly are we going in such a hurry?”

The rich, seductive rasp of your voice is designed to torture him further, but Nanami doesn’t rise to it, simply presses fingers more firm to your back, his other punches the elevator button with purpose.

“I said I need to speak with you,” he finally bites out. “That should be more than enough.”

You lean further into his touch and look up at him, your tongue darts out to toy with your plush bottom lip in a show of faux innocence.

“Is that so?” The melodic lilt coupled with the ghost of your warm breath fanning across Nanami’s jaw would have been enough to make a lesser man’s knees buckle entirely. Instead, it simply ratchets the tension coiling through his powerful frame into a downright maddening degree.

The soft chime of the arriving elevator makes you both turn in tandem, the mirror of the elevator doors casting your reflections—allowing Nanami to drink in the smoldering fire already blazing behind your heavy-lidded stare. There’s profound hunger glimmering there that matches his own. An unadulterated wildness reined in by the thinnest veneer of coy indifference. You’ve always been slick—but not tonight.

The mirrored doors slide open with a hushed mechanical shush, you both step inside, and the doors slide closed.

Nanami offers a silent apology for the violation of manners his parents instilled in him before he backs you into the far wall—the breath punching out of your lungs as your back makes shocking contact with the mirrored paneling. Now it’s you breathless, struggling to compose yourself as the masculine power of Nanami consumes you.

A subtle shudder ripples through Nanami’s abdomen as you wantonly tilt your head back, arching your throat in wordless invitation just as your fingertips rise to trail heated lines over his heaving chest. The lapels are black as midnight, the undershirt a crisp white, and he’s the handsome man that’s all yours even as he fights between what’s right and what he wants. One of his palms is cupping the slope of your jawline as the other maps out the silk of your dress. He bends slowly until the heat of his mouth is tracing the full curve of your parted lips—a heavy brush of sculpted male confidence against your teasing softness.

“You’ve pressed against my boundaries to a criminal degree, love,” Nanami warns in a dark rasp scorched with the first cinders of the firestorm yet to come. His palm slides up the bare inward curve of your back until his fingers are tunneling through the wild riot of your twistout at the nape of your neck. Tinted eyes slit in satisfaction as your head tips back farther on a shaky inhale—granting him access to the deliciously vulnerable length of your throat.

“Nothing to say?” he husks out in the open, admiring the flutter of your lashes as his voice hits you. Nanami’s mouth brands a hot trail from the sensitive juncture of your jaw up towards the shell of your ear. You whimper softly at the slow, torturous build—the same sound of rapture he has memorized and pulled from you countless times between the sheets. It’s enough to strip away any lingering reservations entirely.

With the strength he’s never ashamed to show you, hands slide under your thighs and he yanks you up. Your legs wrap around him on instinct, your arms winding around his neck, your head tilting back again to smack on the mirrored glass.

His tongue glides along the buttery curve of your throat, tasting the familiar tang of salt and vanilla on the tip and the smell of him, of pure Nanami clouds your mind enough to finally look down at him, your noses a hairsbreadth from each other. It’s a silent standoff, your eyes as teasing as they are filled with arousal, his eyes dark with something that makes you shiver against him.

And then he’s kissing you, deep and hungry, his hands roaming the bare expanse of your back, dipping lower, pulling you closer. You melt into Nanami’s kiss, your initial surprise giving way to a matching hunger. Your hands slip under his suit jacket, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. He groans against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, igniting your nerves, thrumming in your veins.

You don’t even hear the elevator doors open but you feel him walking, lips hot and demanding groaning into you as you slide your fingers into his golden locks and pull. Nanami knows these floors like the back of his hand, and he’s familiar with the abandoned break room on the thirtieth floor, his hand yanking the door open and shutting it hard, lips never leaving yours.

You gasp into his mouth when your ass lands on the old buttons of a copier, the machine groaning under your weight, the plastic buttons beeping in protest. As Nanami presses you against the copier, he can’t help but marvel at the feel of you beneath his hands. The dress, this damn dress, is like water under his fingers, smooth and cool and entirely too thin. He can feel every curve, every contour, every shuddering breath you take.

He punctuates his actions with a roll of his hips, pressing his hardness that strains against his slacks against your core. You moan, your head falling back, and he takes advantage of your exposed neck, his lips and teeth worrying the sensitive skin, his tongue licking the marks he leaves.

“How many more dresses do you have?” he growls against your throat, his voice rough with need. “How many more ways are you going to torture me?”

You gasp as his teeth graze your pulse point, your fingers threading into his hair. “T-that depends,” you manage, your voice breathy. Nanami’s chuckle is dark, dangerous, his hands trailing higher, dipping into the seam of your panties, his fingers brushing over your clit. He savors the way your jerk against him, a whimper leaving your throat as you pant into the dusty air.

“Is this what you wanted? To reduce me to this? A man so desperate for you he’d take you in a public place?”

“Yes,” you hiss, arching into his touch, your breasts pressing against the thin silk that covers them. “Yesyesyes...”

Nanami’s groan is part frustration, part desire. “You have no idea what you do to me.” There’s a hint of wonder in his voice, a note of awe at the depth of his own need. His fingers press more insistently, circling, gathering your slick to make each stroke more messy and impactful, driving you towards the edge. The buttons of the copier dig into your skin, the machine whirring and beeping beneath you, adding to the crescendo of sensation. He can hear the mechanical shuffle of papers being chucked out from one end, slapping onto the floor.

“Do you like this?” Nanami pants, his breath hot against your ear. “Do you like teasing me, driving me crazy?”

“Yes,” you admit, free of shame, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, Kento.”

He slides two fingers into your wet heat, savoring your wanton gasp, increases the pressure, the speed of his fingers, pushing you closer to the precipice. “Have you done this before?” he asks, his voice raw with emotion. “Teased other men like this, made them want you so badly they’d forget themselves?”

“No,” you moan desperately, your head thrashing from side to side, deep locks brushing your cheeks. “Never. It’s only ever been you, Kento. Only you.”

“Say it again,” he demands, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

“Only you,” you pant. “I’m yours, Kento. Completely.”

It doesn’t take long—countless strokes inside of you, a curl of his fingers, a twist of his wrist, and you shatter. Your cry of pleasure mixes with the beeps and groans of the copier, your body shaking, your fingers digging harder into Nanami’s shoulders that he’s sure you’ve broken the barrier.

He holds you through it, his lips on your skin, his murmured praises in your ear, soft litanies of words that has made you fall deeper in love with him each passing day. You don’t get a chance to come down fully because he’s on you again, pressing closer, pushing your panties to the side and digging his fingers into the meat of your hips. But the angle is wrong, you’re too high and the copier digs into his thighs and impedes him from getting to you the way he wants.

With a grunt of frustration, Nanami lifts you off the machine. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you to the conference table. He sweeps aside the accumulated debris with one arm, sending sugar and tea packets scattering to the floor. Your back hits the table, the hard surface unyielding beneath you. Plastic cups crunches and snaps under your weight, sugar and coffee creamer powder puffing into the air, settling on your heated skin.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, soaking in the radiance you beam up at him, “how many times I’ve imagined this? Pulling you away from everyone, getting my hands on you…not being able to do it because I’m better than that.”

You moan as he nips at your collarbone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. “And yet here you are,” you tease, breathless with twinkling eyes that shine right through him.

He captures your lips again, the kiss deep and demanding. You arch into him, your hands throwing off his glasses—they smack against a wall—your fingers deftly undoing his tie, working on the buttons of his shirt. You need to feel his skin against yours, need to be closer, and he shudders at the feel of your warm hands breaching the open buttons, sliding up his bare chest.

As if reading your mind, Nanami reaches for the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down. The fabric parts, baring more of your skin to his heated gaze. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes roaming your body like a physical caress.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then his hands are on you, tracing your curves, fingers brushing your nipples before he gives them a pinch. A whimper shakes from you, your fingers pressing into his bare chest.

Dimly, he’s aware that he should stop this, that he’s in a public place, at a work event. But the heat of your body, the insistence of your touch, the mounting pleasure coursing through his veins—it all conspires to drown out reason.

Your hands fumble with his belt, your fingers shaking with need. He helps you, impatiently pushing his pants and boxers down just enough. And then he’s touching you, his fingers digging into your hips, sliding you closer to him until the tip of him presses to the sopping wet heat of your center, wet from your orgasm and still ready.

“Please,” you whimper, hardly recognizing your own voice. “Please, Kento…”pushing your dress further up your hips, trailing over your ribs, cupping your breasts until the skin spills between the gaps. His eyes widen at the sight, the base of his spine heating up. So many times he’s seen you like this in the privacy of your home, and now it’s in an old break room at his workplace, the consequence of you finally taking things too far.

He’s free of any feral energy as he kisses you, sliding into your welcoming heat slowly to acquaint himself again. Your fingers dig into his skin, your chest pressing into him as you adjust, the table creaking under your joined weight as you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your silver heels into his back. Soon he’s moving above you, within you, each thrust pushing you higher, each thrust fanning the fire within himself.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, begging again for the unspoken demand of more. And even though the roles are reversed right now—you the one being teased—he gives you whatever you ask.

He sets a pace that’s just shy of punishing, each snap of his hips brushing his zipper against the inside of your thighs. The room fills with the sounds of sex—the slap of skin on skin, your gasps and moans, his grunts into the air. He cannot believe he’s in this moment, doing something so scandalous.

“You reduce me to this,” he pants against your lips. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” you gasp, your hands pulling at open lapels of his shirt, squeezing around the buttons, the fabric groaning. “I’m sorry.”

But you’re not, he can tell. There’s a hint of satisfaction in your voice, a touch of pride. And why shouldn’t there be? You’ve brought him, the ever-controlled Nanami Kento, to his knees. He loves you too much to ever want anything different.

“I’m a good man,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, curving his next thrust that he knows will brush against that spot you like.

“You’re an amazing man, Ken,” you moan in surprise, your hips lifting to meet his to seek more. “The best. Only the best for me. Only you, Kento.”

The praise makes him shake, the fire in his body raging like an inferno, burning his skin, breaking him into a sweat. He presses a knee into the table, throws one of your legs over his shoulders and savors the ragged way your name leaves his lips as he gives you everything.

“You feel so good,” he pants, his tongue licking the skin of your neck. He tastes the saltiness of your sweat, the sanitizing taste of perfume, the powdered creamer and sugar that sticks to your skin from the table. “So perfect.”

“Come on, Kento” you keen, your nails raking down the suit on his back. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to. He’s lost in you, in the feel of you, in the knowledge that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. Wanton, needy, completely undone.

Nothing else matters—not the party going on just floors above, not the risk of discovery, not the propriety you’re both abandoning. In this moment, there’s only you and him and the heat that’s consumed you both all summer, finally finding release.

Nanami’s thrusts become erratic, his rhythm faltering as the base of his spine tightens in a delicious way to let him know that he’s close. His hand slips between your bodies, past the silk of your rumpled periwinkle dress, gliding over your clit in well-practiced strokes and the leg over his shoulder tenses up, your head digging into the table, neck arching for him to see the flecks of sugar sticking to your neck.

“Ohhh right there Kento. Right there. Please, please I’m gonna cum—I’m—“ you smack a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, eyes shutting tight.

“Absolutely not.” Nanami hasn’t suffered for months just to be deprived of anything during this encounter. He yanks the hand from your mouth, pressing it hard into the table, and the shock on your face as you look up at him, the staccato of your breaths, the undeniable seriousness in his gaze even as he pistons into you, admiring the way your dress pools at your waist as he gives you more, harder, deeper until—

“Ohhhh fuck!” you cum with a long dragged out cry, your body clenching around him, walls locking around his cock to the point his orgasm is yanked from him as he falls over the edge with you, pulsing deep inside with a groan muffled against your neck.

He sags against you, both of your chests heaving against each other. He slips a hand behind you, trailing lightly up and down your glistening back as you lie beneath him, spent and satisfied.

As he slowly comes down, he presses a lingering kiss to your sweat-dampened hairline, the roots of your twistout beginning to frizz. There’s a hint of coconut from your leave-in as his nose brushes down to your cheek. So familiar, yet still so intoxicating after almost a year of smelling it. As if he could ever grow numb to the potent lure of your presence.

A ragged chuckle escapes him at that thought, the mirthful rumble making you pull up your head to look at him. Nanami drinks in the utterly debauched vision you make—beautiful brown sweaty skin, hair messy, lips swollen and smirking as per usual.

His arm tightens reflexively around the sensual curves of your waist, pulling you closer in a subconscious gesture of possession and longing. Because for all the delicious torture you’ve inflicted over the past few months with your endless parade of tempting summer dresses…he wouldn’t trade this hard-won moment for anything.

Nanami is many things—disciplined, regimented, a hardworking—albeit tired— professional. But he is also only human at his core. And you, his beautiful free-spirit of a partner, has a simply breathtaking talent for awaking the primal, unrestrained parts of him he usually keeps so rigorously leashed.

“You know,” you murmur in that velvety voice he loves so much. “The minute I realized the dress vanished from my cart was the minute I knew it would be the one.”

A sleepy chuckle breaks free from his lips at your words, the sound causing you to join in as well—a vibrant melody that coats his soul in pure contentment. Nosing closer, he peppers a line of feather light kisses along the line of your jaw. “You’ll never go easy on me, will you?”

“And rob myself of bringing down Nanami Kento piece by piece?” You snort, shooting him a look of pure, playful sin from beneath your lashes. “I might have to make sundress season a year-round thing.”

His answering groan is part growl, part disbelieving laughter as the palm behind your back glides along the elegant curve of your spine down to the bend of your hip. Ever the devilish temptress without even trying, even in the aftermath.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“That’s a good way to go,” you tease, pulling him down for another kiss, sweet and sticky and full of promise.

His hands slide along the canvas of your body, fingers dipping into the ridges of the open zipper of your dress. He’ll make sure it’s dry cleaned so you can wear it next year. And hopefully he’ll be better prepared.

When you giggle against his lips and dig your heels into his back, he realizes that there will be no amount of preparation when it comes to you.

Thanks for reading!

555 notes · View notes

homestylehughes · 6 months

Text

wanna bet?

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summray: you make a bet with quinn, which of you will win?

wc: 2.9K

warnings: nsfw 18+ smut, unprotected sex, p in v (practice safe sex guys!), oral fem receiving, spitting, cussing, dirty talk. there's some plot but it's mostly smut.

an: OH BOYYYYYY... i'm a little nervous to post this... GULP. it's my first time writing smut, so hopefully you guys all enjoy!! it took me like 4 hours LOL! writing smut is hard guys... thank you to all of my smut writing warriors. ALSO i tried my hand at making a header for my work, i kinda like it?? i cant tell if i ate or not..LMFAO. anyways im done yapping. like and reblog if you like, as always much love as always.

happy reading <3

“We should make a bet.” I say to Quinn as we’re getting ready for a home game between the Canucks and Winnipeg Jets.

He looks at me confusingly as he finishes tying his tie in the mirror. “What kind of bet are we talking about?” he mutters back. “I don't know, something spicy and fun '' I say, as I make my way over to him to fix his crooked tie.

“Hm..i like the sound of that” quinn says, as he rests his hands on my waist pulling me closer to his body. I chuckle at his sudden change in interest, finally fixing his tie, I rake my eyes over his face.

“I have an idea,” I say as our eyes remain locked, “and what's that baby?” Quinn says, I can feel his gaze now locked on my lips.

“If you score tonight, i'll let you do whatever you want to me.'' I say, as I slowly trace my hands around his neck to play with his hair, leaning my body further into his. “if you don't score, i get to do whatever i want to you, but you can't touch.”

I can feel quinns breath hitch in his throat, as I press myself completely against his front, planting soft kisses down his neck and across his jaw. His hands moving from my waist, to my ass, griping is hard and pulling me even tighter against him.

Quinn tips his head down to try and connect our lips together, I quickly move my head to avoid his kiss. “How do those conditions sound?” I say, looking at quinns now flushed state.

“They sound really good, baby, they would sound even better if you'd let me kiss you.” he says, slowly moving our faces closer together.

I slowly shake my head no, as I pull myself apart from him. “ I have to finish getting ready, and so do you.” I say, while looking at a wide eyed, flustered quinn.

“You actually hate me, don't you?” Quinn says, looking at me, still wide eyed. “no i don't, i just like making you suffer.'' I grin back at him.

“So are we shaking on this?” Quinn says, finally collecting himself. Without a word I held my hand out to him, waiting for him to grasp it. Our eyes are locked, as Quinn pulls his arm forward, his hand finally finding mine, pulling it into a firm handshake. “you're on Hughes,” I said to him. “No you're on, I'm scoring tonight, just for you baby '' Quinn says grinning at me like a kid in a candy store.

I step forward and press a sweet kiss on his lips, pulling away before he has the chance to deepen it, “may the best man win” i say before turning away from him, to finish getting ready.

I'm nervous, not for the game, but for tonight. My nerves are getting the best of me as I sit in the stands waiting for the puck to drop. My eyes follow Quinn as they warm up on the ice.

I'm starting to think I'm a dumbass for even betting on this. Quinn is super competitive, he's not going to let me win, but damn do I want to win.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of my head, I settle in my seat, gaze locked on ice as the first whistle signaling the game has begun goes off.

This is going to be a long game, a long night, I think to myself.

The Canucks win in a shutout, 5-0. I couldn't be more proud of them as they skate off the ice. Most importantly I couldn't be more proud of myself for finally winning a bet against quinn.

They played an incredible game tonight, with 5 amazing goals, not none of those coming from quinn. I couldn't help but secretly be happy that he didn't score.

I leave the stands and make my way towards the locker room, waiting for Quinn to finish up with getting ready and press interviews. Around 45 minutes later, I see Quinn make his way towards me. I open my arms to him, grasping him in a hug, “good game baby” I say to him as he pulls away, whispering a small “thank you” in my direction.

We start to make our way to the parking lot, silence surrounds us, it starts to make me nervous. “Any updates on Thatcher?” I ask, who went to the locker room during the second period, with an injury. “We don't know too much right now, hopefully we get some updates tomorrow morning on his status.'' Quinn says as he throws his bags in the back seat of the car, before sliding over to open the passenger door for me.

“Hopefully he’s okay, I'm sure he is. He's a tough guy, keep me updated when you get any information." I say to Quinn, as he's pulling out of the parking lot. “I will.” he says shortly. I frown at his shortness, in the conversation.

“Are you okay?” i ask him quietly, “yeah, im okay.” he replies back quickly. Not wanting to push, I decided that's a good enough answer, keeping my gaze locked on my lap the whole way home.

The car comes to a stop, signaling that we made home. I quickly got out of the car, wanting to escape the tension that was starting to suffocate me. Unlocking the door quickly, speeding my way upstairs to the bathroom, not even looking back to see if Quinn was behind me.

Closing the bathroom door quickly, I take a deep breath to regain my thoughts. Is Quinn mad at me? Is he upset over Demko? Upset that I won the bet? Upset that he didn't score? I don't want him to be upset with me, especially over this, this was supposed to be hot and cute and now i feel like it's blown up in my face. A bet that I don't even care about at this point.

5 minutes later, after I've calmed myself down. I see Quinn on the edge of the bed, when I open the bathroom door. Taking another deep breath, I start to make my way across our bedroom to the closet. As I'm beginning to pass the bed where Quinn sits, I feel him grab my leg, pulling me back towards him.

My nerves are rising again. I'm now in between Quinn's legs, looking down at my feet as I wait for him to say something. I feel his hands run up my thighs, gripping them with a slight pressure. Trailing them higher on my body, over the Hughes jersey that covers my upper half. Quinns hands, finding their home on my waist, for the second time today.

“Baby, look at me,” Quinn says, gently but with authority. I slowly lift my head up to lock my eyes to his. “I think we have a bet to take care of.” he says to me, my brain doesn't even register what he just said to me, before i start speaking. “are you mad at me? I feel like you're mad at me. We don't have to do this, it's just a bet it doesn't really matter to me Quinn. I thought this was a good idea earlier but now i dont think it's a good idea. I know you're definitely mad at-”

I'm quickly cut off by the feeling of quinns lips on mine. Taking me by surprise it takes my body a few seconds to respond. Once I do, my hands are instantly finding his hair, as Quinn pulls me down so I'm now straddling his lap, our kiss getting more intense by the second.

I began to grind myself on his bulge that I felt growing beneath me. Quinn begins painting beneath me, his mouth opening enough for me to slide my tongue into his mouth, pulling myself into him. Our mouths began to fight for dominance. Our bodies move against each other at a faster rate. Quinns hands pushed my waist hard against his, causing me to moan into his mouth.

Quinn pulls back suddenly, causing me to wine more. “Does it look like I'm upset with you baby?” he asks me as he starts to suck on my neck leaving kisses in his wake, causing me to arch my back closer into his mouth. Pulling away from my neck, looking at each other as we’re both panting. “I was acting like a sore loser” quinns says while rubbing slow circles on my thigh, eyes still locked with mine. “I don't like losing, and I really don't like not being able to have my way with you, not being able to touch you.” he breathes out at me. I'm struggling to find my words while he's looking at me like that.

“Quinn. I don't care about this stupid bet anymore, I want you now." I don't even wait for him to respond to me before I'm crushing our lips back together. The kiss is hot, with need and want. Our teeth and tongues clashing together.

I find the will to pull myself off Quinn, now standing in front of him. Without saying anything, I began to peel off my clothes. Pulling off the jersey, leaving me in a black lacy bra, and my jeans. Quickly moving my hands to my jeans, unbuttoning them quickly, pulling them down with my underwear, kicking them off my feet. Reaching behind me and unclasping my bra. Leaving me completely bare in front of Quinn.

“I want you naked, now.” I say to Quinn, who moves in supersonic speed pulling off his clothes and throwing them somewhere behind me.

“Fuck baby.'' Quinn says as he's pulling me into him again. “You look so hot right now, all for me too.” tracing his hands down my bare sides, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps in his wake.

Leaning forward he begins to press kisses against my stomach making his way down to my pussy, my breath begins to hitch, I'm afraid my legs are going to buckle beneath me. “Can I taste you baby? I want to taste your sweet pussy, haven't in so long.” he says, as he slowly pulls my thighs apart. I can't find it within me to stop him, I don't care about the bet anymore. I need him to do something. “Yes please” I told him. He doesn't need to be told twice.

Quinn quickly throws me down on the bed, my body making a small thud as it hits the bed. Quinn immediately pulled my thighs apart so he could rest between them.

I'm knocked out of my daze, as I feel Quinn start to press kisses on the inside of my thighs, my breath is beginning to quicken again. “Look at me baby” he says, as he lifts his head to reach my eyes.

I crane my neck to meet his gaze. Getting a good look at him, pupils blown with lust, his lips swollen and red, hair a mess, seeing him in this state turns me on even more.

“Please Quinn,” I yelled out to him, shifting my body closer to his face. I need something, anything. ‘So impatient” Quinn chuckles, as he leans in closer to my pussy, so close I can feel his breath fan on my folds, causing me to slowly moan. “Keep your eyes on mine or I will stop. Got it?” he roughly says to me, nodding my head yes quickly. “Words baby” he says, “yes, yes quinn” i say urgently.

Before I know it his face is diving into my cunt, his tongue instantly finding my clit, making arch my back into him. “Fuck” i say in a strangled moan, as my hands find their way to quinns hair, pushing his face deeper in my cunt.

His tongue is lapping me up like a grown man starving, his hands are pushing my legs so hard and so far apart it almost hurts, but I can't find it inside me to care. His pace began to quicken, pushing his tongue in and out of my cunt. “Who got you this wet baby?” he mumbles into my heart. “You! Fuck right there baby” i moan out, as quinn slowly pushes 2 fingers in.

The pressure is beginning to build in my stomach, between quinn fingering me and lapping and sucking on my clit is enough to push me over the edge. “Harder, faster, fuck quinn.'' I managed to push out, his actions now becoming faster and more aggressive than before.

Before I realize, my peak is coming. My hips grinding themselves on quinns face, desperate to cum. “That's it baby, there you go.” he says, as i begin to push myself on his fingers deep inside of me. Moving his thumb to now, rub my clit at a fast rate. “fuck quinn im coming” i push my head flat against the pillow as my body archs into him. “Fuck, don't stop. Quinn please don't stop, please please” i began to blubber out as i began to cum all over his fingers. Continuing to grind myself against him, taking anything that he’ll give me.

Quinns hands keep my thighs from closing shut and he removes his fingers and replaces them with his tongue. Riding me through the last of my orgasm. My moans and pants are filling the room, my breath leaving my lungs as I finally come down from my orgasm.

Quinn slowly pulled his face away from my heat. “That was the hottest thing, ive never seen, fuck” he says before making his way on top of me, his lips finding mine.

Wrapping my arms around his neck pulling his chest to mine. Our bodies rocking together, “quinn” i say breathless, as his tongue is attacking my neck, moving his mouth lower down my body. Grasping my left nipple in his mouth, gently biting it, then releasing it into his mouth, wrapping his hot tongue around it. The action causes me to moan loudly, pushing my already close body even closer, if that's even possible.

As good as his assault on my boobs feels, I need him inside of me now. “Quinn” I say firmer this time. Pulling his face to mine, “ i need you to fuck me now, please now” i say panting in his face.

That seems to flip a switch inside of quinn, he's quickly lining up his cock, with my entrance, slowly pushing himself into me. Quinn goes as he fully enters me, our eyes locking for a quick moment before I lift my head to bring myself to his lips. This kiss is different from the others, love and passion filled, a kiss that isn't rushed. “Can I move baby?” quinn asks from above me, “yes please fuck me” i pant back into his mouth, bringing our lips back together again.

Quinns hips quickly snapping against mine, pulling out fullying before pushing himself back into me. The quick motion caused the both of us to moan loudly, “harder” I moan out to him. “You want me to fuck you harder baby?” Quinn says back to me. To answer his question I push my hips up to meet his thrusts, quinn moves one of his hands from my waist to my right leg, and pushes it above his shoulder. the new angle, hitting a depth i didn't know was even possible. Fucking me at a pace so good, that i didnt want him to stop.

The sound of groans, moans and our skin meeting and slapping together fills our room, our bodies slick with sweat. My eyes flutter open meeting quinns eyes, as he fucks me so deep and so good, my mouth is hung open but no words are coming out.

Grabbing my jaws he leans down and spits into my mouth “swallow” he orders, his eyes still locked with mine. I do as he says, swallowing every last bit.

“Fuck you’re so hot” quinn moans at me, as he continues to fuck me. “More more '' I moan loudly at him, Quinn then pushes both of my legs on his shoulders. Fucking me so deep i can feel him in my stomach.

“Im gonna cum, baby” Quinn breathes in my ear, his face dropping to my neck as he picks up his pace. I feel the familiar burn build up in my stomach again. “Don't stop, im almost there please dont stop” i wine at him urging him to go even faster.

Grabbing our headboard, using more strength to push himself harder into me. One singular snap of his hips causes me to cum. “Quinn quinn, im coming fuck fuck fuck” i moan loudly. “come for me baby fuck” quinn says as he continues to fuck me though my orgasm.

“Im cumming” he sputters out, his lips finding mine. Our bodies move together as we’re coming down from our highs.

My legs slowly come down from his shoulders, Quinn slowly pulling out of me, wincing as he does. Collapsing beside me, our chests falling and rising together, pants fill the room still. I turn my body to his hand tracing his chest and neck. Pushing his hair that's fallen in his face back. Quinns arms circled around my waist pulling me closer to him.

“So much for the bet huh?” he says while laughing, pulling me in for another kiss.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #nhl fic #quinn hughes smut #vancover canucks #hockey smut

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vagabond-umlaut · 3 months

Text

for love is flesh, it is a flower flooded with blood

you're ravishing while gojo is ravenous— rabidly so.

gojo x fem!reader; everyone is 18+ here; somewhat one-sided enemies to lovers; the summary explains more than any no. of tags can ever; tw: cannibalistic tendencies & blood & violence [nothing of the like happens tho!!]; tw: mentions of throwing up and being sick; SATORU IS PINING HERE, AND IT AIN'T A PRETTY SIGHT TO GAZE ON; he seriously needs to go to therapy; unestablished relationship; there's fluff too, dw; 2.5k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna

fic title from 'poem of the end' by marina tsvetaeva // header from pinterest // divider by @/adornedwithlight // jjk isn't mine

gojo wants to eat you whole.

too ridiculous, even for him— is it not?

maybe... maybe not... the man does not know. he decidedly does not care— not when you're there beside him. seeming this delectable. an alluring treat for his palate— he's surer of this than of the ridges in his palms.

you stir in your sleep.

something gnaws at his heart. shifts in the hollow of his stomach.

strengthening when your features relax. worsening when your mouth twitches, its shape pleased. settling down when your mien flattens in its wonted neutrality.

gojo bites back a groan. only to sigh noisily when you shuffle closer.

years ago, were anyone to tell him that one day he would be seconds away from dying from pangs of an indescribable hunger— agonising, antagonising— for someone catnapping in the seat next to his. in an overcrowded train, sickeningly so, at 10 on a monday morning—

he would have punched the informer. perhaps sent them into a coma if the day wasn't treating him very well... but then again.

you're not just someone, are you?

a bite of candy: so crunchy. refreshing. sweet. when his brain is a bit too tired. a bit too sluggish. a bite of mango: its addicting sweetness dancing on his taste buds. trickling down the corner of his lips. more than welcome after a year of wait. a sip of hot chocolate: the warmth of the drink, homely and sweet. lulling him into a dreamless sleep as he nestles in his childhood blanket. a sip of water: supposed to taste bland, but tastes so sweet. sweeter than nectar, after training—

it's confusing, even for gojo.

but the man believes you'll taste akin a mix of all these he has listed—

he stops. and wonders. will this hunger of his be satiated if he steals away only a small taste of yours? it won't be anything much!! maybe not even a taste, now that he thinks about it... just a touch.

yeah.

yeah, yeah, yeah. it'll be one and only one touch. and nothing more—

can he reach out and caress your cheek once?

he can... obviously, he can. there is nothing he, the strongest, cannot! but... what if his need manifests claws.

what if his need tears at the delicate skin. gouges the soft flesh there — deriving an animalistic, depraved pleasure from the rivers of blood which would be flowing—

no sooner does the image flutter into gojo's mind, than he screws his eyes shut and resolutely burns it. brain already whirring with the next possible course of action. something better. something cleaner—

can he intertwine his fingers with you then?

they look so small. they look so pretty. just so perfect. as if they have always been meant to slip into the gaps between his fingers. erasing the emptiness from there. and from within the fissures formed in his self, for once and for all time— ah.

but what if he squeezes your hand too hard.

what if he bruises you and breaks your bones, in his attempts to allay his craving for you. to mitigate his madness for you. the violet colour blooming on your unblemished skin. the following crack! and crunch! of your frail bones beneath his unyielding grasp. beneath the teeth of his hunger—

no, no, never, never, never!

a wave of something bitter, something bilious rolls through the man.

he draws in a deep breath— and pauses.

gojo can't touch you without hurting you, but he definitely can lean in a little closer... and get a whiff of your perfume, right?

not anything much, it'll be nothing at all. and it isn't like, the moment he tilts himself towards you, he's going to grow fangs— fangs, all too ready to sink into the column of your neck. thirsty for the feel of your blood. the tiny beads of it on his tongue, sweet. yes, addictively so— and maybe, since he's already there... he can leave a loving sign from his side on your skin. dark red. enticing, but defintely not as much as the taste of you. certain to linger in his mouth. persist in his thoughts— conscious and everything not. even after it's been eons—

the train lurches to a sudden stop.

and with it, does gojo's vivid daydream as well— but he doesn't care.

not when the resulting clamour in the compartment has awoken you. not when your face is gaining a shade of upset. pretty cute, he thinks. but the man also believes such a sight isn't meant for these unworthy souls in this place, so...

how bad then, is it not? that he can do nothing about it. he can't blind these people. nor can he ask you to not make such a face. you simply won't take kindly to either of those—

thus leaving him helplessly watching. shamelessly staring.

the way your eyebrows scrunch closer. lips dip into a small pout, then break apart in a yawn. finally followed by your eyes blinking open. too bleary for such a bright morning, but to gojo, they appear to outshine the sun itself.

it takes you a beat to find your bearings. he waits patiently, keen eyes watching your every movement. every minuscule expression. another yawn spills past your lips, noisier than the previous. making the man's cheeks twinge from the growing stretch of his grin. ribs ache from his swelling heart.

you take another moment to focus your foggy mind on him. frowning as you do. gaze flitting from him to your loud fellow passengers, then back to him.

your frown worsens. gathers a pinch of concern.

"is... everything okay, senpai? you don't look too alright out there."

he doesn't!?!?

no. of-fucking-course, no.

he's the strongest sorcerer in the world, yes. there's no doubt about it— but even he is a little too weak to not grow weary when fighting his irrepressible urges to gorge himself on you...

realising he has been silent for a tad too long, gojo struggles to drag back his fading grin. before deciding to just let go of it. dropping his mouth into the most pitiful shape he can, he grumbles. sounding so aggrieved and in such a terrible pain.

"you seeing this compartment, darling? it's so cramped, so noisy, so very under-ventilated— it's making me wanna puke, babyyy!"

features crumpling up— he chooses not to probe why— you exhale a rather heavy sigh. and retort, "i never asked you to accompany me to work, senpai. you were the one who insisted. who invited himself— 's not my problem if you bite off more than you c— wait a second," you cut yourself off abruptly, eyes becoming rounder and tone turning an awful lot panicked, "you aren't really feeling nauseous, are you? i have few candies and a packet of crackers— you wanna munch on those??— or wait a sec, you can drink some water from my bottle— or... wait. i'll just get up and tell these people to move away. you need some air to breathe freely—"

"will you let me eat you?"

lights flickering, the train shudders into a sudden start.

but gojo's heart stumbles into a stop. when he realises he has spoken something he must have never let see the light of day. something the man must have never let reach you— you might always be wearing an awful tough exterior, but you're rather sensitive beneath it... innocent and sweet, the lamb to his wolf.

the man probably shouldn't, yeah. yet he allows his insides to twist in glee at the face you make— bathed in warm hues as you gape at him.

those brilliant eyes, wide and unblinking. lips parted, not-too-slightly. the rest of your body, so perturbed not one whole minute back, but a little too still now in that uncomfortable seat— gojo wants to... but he decides not to jerk you away from a state as this. it isn't everyday you let him drink the sight of you in a state as this.

it takes you much longer than he expected you to borrow to recover. thirteen seconds versus your usual three.

the train picks up speed in the backdrop.

your face slips behind its mask of placidity. but the concern wrinkling your forehead and furrowing your brows is clear as day for him to see. loud as bells for him to hear when you speak, tone quiet and adorably soft.

"i think you need some rest, senpai. we'll get down at the next station and i'll call ijichi-san to pick you up then drop you home, okay?— i will also ask ieiri-san to check you once— think you've caught some virus, or maybe it's just fatigue. that's why you're looking and feeling so sick— definitely why you're asking me such a question."

gojo doesn't need any foresight to know he will regret his next course of action. very much, if not more than that ask which slipped past the cracks in his defenses— but now? in this specific instant? he reckons he'll regret even more if he doesn't do what he wants to do.

what that hunger within him wants him to do— fuelled by your worry for him. care for him. disbelief for him. the impending doom wherein you'll leave him behind, leave him suffering—

a voice floats through the air, announcing the train to be approaching the next station.

slipping the bag onto your shoulder, you move to stand up. a precious urgency highlighting your actions as you do— only for him to encircle your wrist in his fingers. yanking you back into the seat, before you've even left it entirely. a noise akin a gasp, a stifled gasp, spills past your lips. pinching him, helped by the startled look offered alongside. gojo wills himself to ignore the pain, however.

every sense zeroing in on you. only you. as he tugs you even closer to himself. and murmurs, words uttered, slowly and carefully. meant for you and him only, and not for anyone else outside this bubble he has been building around you both.

"but what if i say you are why i'm so ill, and eating you is the only way i can get cured— will you let me eat you then, darling?"

"i..." you start. but then stop. you look a little breathless, gojo thinks. a little too weak perhaps. your placid mask, a little too close to cracking open, falling to the floor in pieces...

the signs are all gone albeit, before the man can etch any of them to his brain. before he can even know if he was just seeing things.

"senpai," you reply evenly, calmly, "we are deboarding the train at the next station for sure. i'll book a cab there and personally drop you off at the school, yeah? ieiri-san needs to—"

gojo whispers your name.

its syllables, too piercing. too pleading. too foreign on a tongue which has only ever called you by terms of endearment. utterly uncaring for how much you complain. uncaring for the rumors, you've always said his antics will give rise to, when there's actually no fire to give birth to the smoke.

hah, if you only saw the fire melting him from within.

he makes a move to call you by your name yet again. but you cut him off before he can. the pieces of your mask crumble into dust, turning into nothing before he can even register what is happening.

your lower lip trembles. just once. barely noticeably so. "you're crazy. stupidly, unbelievably, insanely crazy— you need to get help, senpai."

you're insulting him. lowkey, highkey, it doesn't matter. nothing does, except the fact you're insulting him.

he doesn't even think before he decides it too doesn't matter.

tightening his grasp on your wrist, he leans towards you. shaping his lips in a grin. maybe a bit too predatory, but eh. if you have read him well enough to suggest needing help, he trusts you to know the kind of reaction he will return.

grin wavering for a beat, when your blood gives a frantic push against his thumb pressing onto your artery, he retorts, "what if i say i'm in no need of any help? what if u say i need you— just you— will you permit me then, huh?"

you probably won't, few voices in his head state. studying the utterly stricken look you're offering him in answer. the man doesn't hesitate to choke them into an eternal silence.

you ask, "will i be okay if i say 'no', senpai?"

"i'm hurt you think you won't be," gojo snaps back with a frown. soft but biting, a pretty intentional action of his. you wince a little. words not even taking one whole second to from before bubbling out.

"okay, yeah— 'm sorry. i know you'll never force me— i'm really sorry," you repeat, features more distressed than he would ever like them to be— he lets his frown smoothen out.

face lightening, he notes your shoulders slump a little— before seeing the way your eyebrows huddle together. he acutely registers you shift closer to him. voice ringing in his ears when you state rather than ask, "but you won't be okay if i say 'no', will you?"

"no," the word escapes him, as quiet as a breath the moment the last syllable leaves you—

sucking in a staggering breath, he shakes his head. and repeats, "no. i won't be. i really need you to live at this point, baby. i know you will be thinking how i'm love-bombing you right now, but trust me— i cannot survive without you. i need—"

"— me. yeah, i get it," you interrupt him. as rudely as always, but gojo doesn't find himself offended. too lost in the breathless chuckles tied into your tone. you lean back away from him, an amused glint in your eyes, in your tenor as you hum, "i don't know if this was you flattering me enough to make me cave into your demands... but it's okay. yeah. fine— i'll let you eat me. devour me. or whatever poetic shit you're on about— just don't forget to slice my carotids before you do that, yes?— don't really wanna go through the pain or the mess of being eaten while alive, you see."

[agreeing to be eaten by him is not the same as agreeing to date him.

gojo knows this. tough to believe, but he does. he really, really does—

but who the hell cares.

definitely not him, as he scribbles both of your initials on his mission reports later in the day. a big plus sign linking the two pairs of letters, an even bigger heart encompassing them—

pen stilling over the paper, gojo pauses. and grins.

sure. agreeing to be eaten by him is not the same as agreeing to date him— the former's far more intimate. entails much firmer trust, much greater love—

after marriage, will he take your surname, or will you take his?]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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daycourtofficial · 4 months

Text

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 13

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 1.8k | Warnings: none | Masterlist

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author's note: everyone say thank you to @sarawritestories for bullying me to get me to write and to @milswrites for the NEW HEADER LOOK IT'S SO PRETTY

Ten minutes to the dot from getting to your door Azriel was walking into your apartment with a bowl of popcorn and several bags of candy. He brought chocolates, gummy worms, cookies, and several other sweets in the crook of his elbow, several being held by random fingers. You really weren’t sure how he was carrying it all.

In your absence he also changed into some black sweatpants and a black tee, his arms flexed with all the snacks in his hold. He looked great at mini golf, but now he looked attractive in such a different way.

“What are you doing?” He looked a bit ridiculous, as if he just raided a candy store. He looked even more ridiculous trying to toe his shoes off before making his way over to you.

“I know you don’t have food here.”

“Yes we do - Cassian was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday!” You whip your head to the kitchen, as if you could see the inside of your pantry from where you sat. “Besides I ordered a pizza.”

He gives you a look, “Cassian’s version of grocery shopping is stopping at our apartment and taking what he wants.”

Your eyes widen, “no he does not! He said he goes to the store for food.”

He scoffs, setting down the candy and snacks on the table in front of you, lining them all up so you could see the label on each bag, “the store of Rhys and Az, maybe. A 24 hour convenience store Cassian has a lifetime membership to.”

You think back to all the times Cassian told you he was going grocery shopping, but you’re not sure if you ever did see him come back with bags of groceries. All the food and supplies just showed up. “Well, I’m sorry he does that. It does explain his luxurious tastes though…”

“It’s fine,” he says sitting next to you, your legs touching. “Rhys’s dad pays for the groceries, so..”

His sentence lingers as he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s what’s worked for us for a long time. Rhys couldn't care less. Actually I think he prefers getting to spend money on us.”

“So things with Rhys’s dad are weird?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose. His dad sucks. Gives Rhys a- basically an unlimited credit card. Rhys has played with the limits on it before. We all know he’s rich, we just don’t know how rich. He’s spent a ridiculous amount of money on that card with no response. Once he bought all of ours and Cassian’s furniture in one trip - bought ridiculously priced shit too. Didn’t even blink over it.”

He scoops up a handful of popcorn, popping some into his mouth. “Well, all the furniture except their ridiculously sized tvs.”

You giggle, grabbing the bag of sour candies he brought and opening them, popping some in your mouth. “Mm, you’re too good to fall victim to their childish antics?”

“I’m more evolved than them.”

“So it was a different Azriel that Cassian was talking about going racing with him on some backroads a few weeks ago?”

A beat passes and he refuses to look at you, his eyes straight forward. “I think Cassian has face blindness.”

“Oh yeah, mhm.” You pick up the remote, scrolling to look through potential movies to watch. “Maybe we should get a decal for your bike so he won’t get confused again. I’m thinking of something that makes you seem distinguished.”

“Oh?”

“Something that makes you seem intimidating.”

“something scary?” His eyes dance with amusement, crinkling in contained joy.

“Something terrifying. So they know you’re a menace.”

You scroll through the movie options, Azriel’s arm making its way across the back of the couch behind you. He spreads his legs a bit, and you nestle into his shoulder as you put on Jurassic Park, picking a movie you’d be okay with missing some parts to it.

The two of you had watched at least three quarters of Jurassic Park, several parts of the movie missed because the two of you couldn’t keep from making out on your couch.

You watched the entire trilogy, staying up late with him. By the time the second movie came on, the two of you talked through most of it, until you’d reach the scenes with the pterodactyls in the third movie. Then you had forced your hands over his mouth, not letting him talk over your favorite scenes. Once you had pulled them away, he immediately dove on top of you, pushing you into the couch and nuzzling his face into your neck.

The two of you stayed up until somewhere around 3 AM, the third movie long forgotten as you asked him to stay the night. Nothing happened, except you did wake up the next morning with his arm slung around your waist, making it very tempting to completely ignore your alarm clock.

Unfortunately, Azriel had work to do, kissing your temple before he snuck back into his apartment to get dressed.

He had been gone for all of twenty seconds when your phone buzzed and he asked if you’d like to get coffee the next day before class. Your classes lined up at the same time each day, so you two would meet up at a local coffee shop in the morning. You’d park your car in the grocery store lot afterwards, Azriel holding out his spare helmet for you before helping put it on your head before he’d zip you two through campus, one of his hands always on your thigh.

The two of you would separate once he’d walk you to your classes, and then you’d meet back up at the library. It was a bit concerning to you how quickly the two of you fell into a routine, most of your free time of the week either spent with him or texting him.

“I got you something.”

You rummage through your bag when Azriel walks up to the table, his jacket being thrown onto one of the extra chairs. He sets down his helmet as you continue your search. You slide the envelope across the table, his scarred fingers touching yours as he grabs it from you. He opens the envelope, pulling out the note.

‘To be more menacing’ is written on pink stationary, a sticker falling from the paper. He picks it up, a smile on his face as he turns the sticker in his fingers, the cartoon goose with a knife in his mouth looking back at you.

His smile is captivating in the harsh lighting of the library, the LEDs making his skin several shades too light.

But it made his smile all the more blinding.

“Thank you,” he slips the sticker into his jacket pocket, sliding into the seat across from you.

He pulled out his laptop, his bag neat and tidy, a far cry from Cassian’s paper cluttered bag. You go back to reviewing your notes, as Azriel begins typing on his computer. The silence is comfortable between you two, and as you feel it start to settle, Azriel’s foot grazes your own, sticking itself between your crossed ankles.

You peer at him across the table, but his tortoiseshell glasses don’t move towards you, his computer screen reflecting through them to show he was working on some form of coding you had no desire to understand. You smile back down to your books, trying to get all your work finished before Friday, the six of you spending the weekend at Rhys’s dad’s lake house.

Cassian had been moaning and groaning for several weeks about wanting to go to the lake, but Rhys’s dad was having renovations done on the house and on the private dock until roughly two weeks ago. Since its completion, Cassian has been relentless, worming the word ‘lake’ into every conversation he’s had, not being very subtle about what he wanted.

Every morning he texted your group chat about his ‘cornfLAKEs’ or about how he just loves ‘snowfLAKEs’. He had just run out of words two days ago and now resorted to making up words that had ‘lake’ in them. Rhys immediately texted everyone to ‘please for the love of my sanity, be available this weekend or else I’m petitioning we murder Cassian’.

None of you wanted to be stuck doing any kind of work this weekend - Cassian and Azriel already had the weekend off, Mor and Feyre were free, and your plans revolved around the work and the man in front of you. All of you were desperate to finish any work that was due on Monday before the six of you left.

“So this weekend.”

He holds up a finger, typing furiously before he stops, looking up at you. He closes his laptop slightly, pushing it away from himself.

“This weekend.”

You put your chin in your hands, looking at his tan face. You loved seeing him wear his glasses - they made him look so endearing and soft. “Are we um going to tell anyone before we go? Besides Mor, obviously.”

You had texted Mor at some point during the second or third movie, asking her if she had mentioned your date to anyone. She had said no and that she’d be willing to keep it that way if you remembered to thank her profusely for ‘setting you up on the best date of your life’.

You had agreed, but now this left you with a bit of a dilemma - when do you tell everyone? Does he want to tell everyone?

“You don’t understand how annoying they can get when it comes to my love life.”

You giggled, certain you could figure it out based on how nosey and meddling Cassian was.

He clears his throat, “besides I’d like to figure things out with you before they know. I don’t want them to scare you off.”

You laughed, “I walked in on Cassian trimming his toenails the other night. I think anything worse than that violates the Geneva convention.”

His smile is bright as he watches you giggle at your own joke. “How about this,” his hands move across the table, laying them palm up so you can sit yours into them. Your fingers lightly trace the lines on his palms as his voice picks up again. “I’ll take you out for lunch tomorrow, and it will be the official end of things… until we get back.”

You raise your brows, but he’s not finished. “Obviously, not really the end of things. But just.. We’ll come back from lunch as the people we were last week. Before mini golf.”

Your voice is a bit unsteady as you ask, “do you want to stay those people? The before mini golf versions of ourselves?”

“No.” His reply is fast, voice full of conviction.

“You’re not just saying this because Rhys’s lake house has a hot housekeeper, are you?”

He blows out his lips, laughing at your waggling eyebrows, “Sonya’s been about eighty years old for the past fifteen years.” His fingers quickly snatch yours, holding them tightly. “So she’s perfect for me.”

You throw your head back, about to laugh, but he pulls your fingers forward, bringing you in for a soft kiss you can’t help but giggle through.

Series taglist: @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @impossibelle @hayrunnwr @just-a-social-casualty-1 @thisisew @brieflyclassymortal @glitterypirateduck @marshmummy @bookishbroadwaybish @azsteris @doriansgf @footyandformula @mybestfriendmademe @od-anon @judig92 @luvmoo @marina468 @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @acotarobsessed @maryssong23 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielover

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading <3

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #fourth floor #acotar writing #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar series #azriel acotar #acotar

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httpiastri · 3 months

Text

favorites – pa17

genre: fluff, suggestive

pairing: paul aron x reader

warnings: mentions of 18+ stuff but it's pretty lowkey

word count: 1k

author's note: sleepy paul <33 forever in my heart <3<3 aaaaa this started out as me just praising paul's eyes and then his entire face and just.... yea idk im kinda obsessed. hope you enjoy and that this maybe can cheer you up from these last few races :)

3k celly l f2/f3 masterlist

paul aron is a pretty sleeper.

well, he is pretty at all times. after a race, cheeks flushed and hair messier than ever; curled up on the sofa with five blankets wrapped around him, the flu making his eyes all droopy; and maybe especially when he's standing on the top step of a podium, cap perched on his head and giant smile adorning his lips.

but even when he's asleep, lips slightly parted and nose scrunching up every once in a while, paul looks like god's most stunning creation. he's not just pretty, he's beautiful, with the type of boyish charm that can make any girl swoon.

back in the day, he adored the attention. nowadays, he only needs you to swoon, thankfully.

his light blonde curls are still tousled from the number of times your hands went through them last night, the feeling of his soft strands still lingering on your fingers. his face is so peaceful, a stark contrast to how concentrated it was a mere few hours ago when you were writhing beneath him as he whispered sweet praises into your ear.

the memory of yesterday makes a shiver shoot through your spine. it's your favorite way of getting ready to sleep; there's no better way to tire out than to spend some time with your needy boyfriend who's just come back from a triple header.

however, this is paul's favorite way of waking up.

the first thing he wants in the morning isn't coffee or a good bagel. it's to feel your legs tangled with his, your skin rubbing against his, your fingers intertwined with his. he doesn't really enjoy the sun shining in through the creak in your blinds, though.

"turn off the damn sun..."

the words lure out a sweet laugh from you, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you relax further into your pillow. "can't really do that," you tell him with a shrug. "sorry, love."

paul groans – at you or the sun, you aren't sure, but the grumble that vibrates in his chest sounds a little like a frustrated whine, and you have to hold back another giggle. despite his sweet looks, he's a grumpy little thing in the morning; a fact you know better than anyone else. "not fair," he huffs. his accent is always a little stronger, a little thicker when he's just woken up, paired with the very melodious and dramatic tone he often uses which always manages to bring out a smile on your lips. "'m really tired..."

you hum in response. it wasn't too long ago that you both finally fell asleep, after all. when he lets out a sigh and finally opens his eyes, your heart skips a beat. or two. or five.

paul's eyes are your favorite things in the world.

they always have been. since the moment they first met yours, you haven't been able to look away. it's not just a common blue – one day, they've stolen the deep color of the ocean, and the next, they've mimicked the light blue sky of a sweet summer day.

they're especially hard to tear your gaze from since they remind you of so many things you love. the waves by the sea you used to visit when you were younger; the dark rain clouds covering the sky during a cozy storm; blueberry-flavored candy, blue raspberry sour patch kids, bubblegum cotton candy. sometimes even a purple nebula, giving birth to butterflies in your stomach instead of stars in space.

even half-lidded like this, sleep still clear in his gaze, his eyes are enough to send goosebumps all across your skin. the effect he has on you is just not fair.

"how are you even already so awake?" he questions, his tone complaining as if there's a personal vendetta against you not being as sleep-deprived as him. you shake your head, letting go of his hand to instead let yours graze his cheek.

"i've been awake for a while now," you say, watching as he pushes his head against your hand like a cat seeking physical attention, letting out a soft hum when your hand slips past his jaw and lands on the back of his neck.

"doing what?" he raises an eyebrow, albeit clumsily as he's still too tired to control his face properly.

his arm drapes over your waist, his large hand finding the small of your back before lazily tracing up and down your spine. "watching you."

"i can't tell if that's kinky or only creepy."

you scoff, tone growing defensive. "how would that be kinky?"

"i never know with you." paul gently pulls you closer so that you're flush against his chest, making it easier for him to bury his face into the crook of your neck. he inhales slowly, drinking in your scent, before letting out a sigh, his exhale tickling the bare skin of your collarbone. "you still smell of me, you know."

"wouldn't be surprised if the whole room smells of us..." his lips begin a journey upwards, trailing kisses all the way from the sensitive skin between your shoulder and collarbone to the underside of your jaw, before stopping to nibble on your earlobe. his callused palm caresses the skin of your naked back, before sliding down to your ass, squeezing it gently.

your eyes close again, body basking in the feeling of his lips and hands working in perfect synchronization. despite how awake you said you were, it's far too early for wherever this is headed. you call out his name once, then twice, but the sole difference is that his hand moves down to trail along your thighs.

the only thing you can think of is tilting your head down to meet his lips, your toes curling at the passion with which he's kissing you so even early in the morning. his tongue is already begging for access to your mouth, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs and leaving you squirming under his touch.

it's all so perfect, exactly like it always is; with him pressed up so close not even a single atom could fit between you, with you finding no reason not to give in.

hips pressed against hips, chests against chests, mouths against mouths. your favorite place, your favorite feeling,

your favorite person.

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radioisntdead · 4 months

Note

This is my first time requesting anything from you so I hope this idea is okay but would you be willing to write something where the reader is Alastor's child (I live for Dad Alastor) and they meet Susan? Maybe they get really attached to her so every time they visit Cannibal Town Alastor has to reluctantly take his kid to see 'Grandma Susan' and be civil around her?

Only if you're up for it though! I love your blog so MUCH and I live for both the platonic Alastor and Susan content you do

-TheAmberFist ♡

Good evening my dear! I did headcanons I hope that's alright, I adore your blog's content as well! I reread your "leave it all on the dance floor" series often! I positively adore how you write Alastor's and the readers friendship! Also thank you so much for requesting this because that gives me an excuse to bring back this header!

Papa Alastor doesn't like Grandma Susan.

Alastor & child reader, Susan & adopted against Alastor's will grandchild reader.

Warnings: Cannibalism also reader is a fawn because deers.

HEADCANON TIMEEEEE

Much like my other Papa Alastor fics, he either picked you up off the streets, or you just straight up followed him home like a stray puppy.

He unwillingly became a father.

I imagine he was talking with your Auntie Rosie and You wandered off to explore Cannibal town!

Despite being in hell, it seems safe enough for children considering there were other children around.

Anywho you stumbled upon a cranky Susan and just immediately started going

"I like your dead rodent scarf!"

"It's a fox, what are you blind?"

Long story short she unwillingly became a grandmother that day because you would NOT LEAVE HER ALONE not that she minded

Alastor has to deal with you whining that you want to see Grandma Susan, dude does NOT want to call her your grandmother, in his eyes you only have one grandmother above that you will unfortunately never meet.

"I wanna see Grandma Susan!"

"She's not your grandmother, why in the devil's name would you want to see her?"

"Because she's my grandma,"

"No she's not."

"yes she is!"

"No."

"Yes!"

Que a repeat of no's and yes until he eventually relents because you are NOT TAKING NO FOR AN ANSWER.

I imagine Susan enjoys your company but also uses you to peeve off the embodiment of red-40 that is your parent.

Like Alastor leaves you with her for whatever reason and is just like

"Don't give them any candy, no more then two juice boxes anymore and they get rowdy."

Guess who got a little goodie bag of candies and had a whole box of CapriSuns?

Also I imagine you as a fawn, specifically one of these [no this totally isn't an excuse to show the deer pictures I have saved noooooo]

Susan puts either a bow or bow tie on you, I imagine she breaks into the hotel sometimes when Alastor is out and is just like "I'm taking my grandchild out, fuck off!"

Vaggie tried to stop her once and nearly lost an arm, so far the only ones that are successful in getting Susan to not kidnap you is Angel dust [aka your favorite babysitter] ,Rosie, Alastor himself, for everyone else they have to risk losing limbs, Charlie could probably coax you away from Susan.

They banned her from the hotel, set up security measures.

She keeps getting in they don't know how, they're terrified.

Nothing stops Susan.

Alastor keeps cordial with Susan because he can't do anything to Susan because of Rosie and also because much to his displeasure you are attached to the ornery old bitch.

Alastor wants to take you on a father-child day? Torturing sinners, getting cannibal ice cream, getting souls,

He can't BECAUSE Susan snuck into the hotel and snatched you up!

On the flip side, Susan wants to take you shopping because the modern [1920's-1930's] clothing Alastor dresses you in is horrendous, Her words not mine

But no Alastor literally just picked you up and teleported away, how rude! How dare he keep her from her grandchild?? Ungrateful brat who raised him? [She's lucky Alastor did NOT HEAR THAT, just because he's dead and his ma is in heaven does NOT MEAN HE'S NOT STILL A MAMA'S BOY the good version ]

I imagine as a consequence Susan starts acting like Alastor's parent, like threatening to ground him, telling him to go in the corner and think about what he's done, chastising him for his awful haircut, then grabbing a bowl and scissors.

Alastor hid behind Rosie while Susan and you looked for him because she was definitely planning on giving him a bowl cut.

Good evening folks! Oh how I've missed writing for Susan! I missed our grumpy grandma, I hope you enjoyed this! As per usual thank you for tuning in I hope to see you again soon!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #susan & reader #alastor & reader #hazbin hotel susan #hazbin Susan & reader #Hazbin Susan & you

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junniieesbby · 7 months

Text

༯ Teacher’s Pet |Choi Yeonjun ༯

Pairing: Professor Yeonjun x F!Student reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, forbidden romance, 10 year Age cap (reader is 22+ when they met).

WC: 2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: Having dirty thoughts about one of your professors you couldn’t control yourself but to make them come true. Only for you to end up heartbroken after.

Warning: STRAIGHT FILTH. Lots of degradation. Reader is a brat. Use of pet names such as sir, Baby, teacher’s pet, Slut, Whore. Age Gap. Ass smacking, hair pulling. Spit.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Nothing mentioned in this fiction represents any of the characters.

Song: Teacher’s Pet By: Melanie Martinez

A/N: I’m all for happy endings but um this one is not ending in one I fear not. Maybe if you guys want a part two but it won’t be anytime soon because your girl is heartbroken. A big shout out to my favorite people @boba-beom @lovejoshua @gyupremacy @honajoong @flwrseon for helping me with the header and me asking you guys a bunch of questions to see what fits most! And a special shout out for @boba-beom for giving me the glasses idea hehe. ILY guys💕I also would like to say if you want to see more scenarios that include age gap professor Yeonjun please send me an ask.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Your Favorite part about your English Literature course was the eye candy of a professor you had. He was a young professor and all the girls wanted to fuck him while all the boys wanted to be him. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at him every time you walked in the class, making sure you came early so you could get a seat in front of him. Everytime you walked in, his eyes would linger on you. You spent the time in his class daydreaming about all the different ways he would fuck you.

One morning you woke up bold and decided today would be the day. You did your hair and makeup. And you wore one of the shortest skirts you had. And went to class like usual early. As you walk in you swear you stopped breathing for a moment. He looked so fuckable in his outfit and those glasses of his. You felt yourself get wet just imagining riding him while taking those glasses off and wearing them to be a brat.

After class ended you waited until everyone was out so you could approach him. He was sitting slightly on his desk with his arms crossed “Is there a reason you stayed behind Miss Y/L/N?” He asked, looking you up and down. You walked up to him standing so close to him. You lifted one of your hands and placed it on his bulge. “Is it wrong that I’ve needed you to fuck me since the moment I saw you” you whisper to him. He takes his hand and lifts your chin up to look at him both your faces mere inches from each other. He sighs and moves away going to sit in his chair murmuring a “you’re young”. You didn’t care about the age, looking at him and saying “I know I'm young, but my mind is well beyond my years”. He shook his head and said “why do you need me to fuck you? You are my top student in all the classes I teach” he readjust his glasses. “don't care 'bout grades, just call me your Baby.” You slowly walk and stand in front of him.

“Fuck it” He whispers getting up walking to the door locking it. He marches towards you “tell me to not touch you and let you go and I will unlock that door and let you go, but if you don’t I will be fucking you so hard you won’t be able to move for days… so what is it going to be baby?” He got so close to you, your noses were touching. You knew this would be wrong but didn’t care you needed to feel him deep inside of you. “Fuck me Sir” Three words. It took three words for him to crash his lips down to yours while beginning to undo his pants and pulling his cock out.

“Did you decide to dress like a filthy slut for me? Did you want my cock that bad?” He reached inside your short skirt and started to rub circles on your clothed core. You couldn't believe he was finally touching you in ways you'd been dreaming about. “Be the good little teacher’s pet that you are and answer me when I am asking you questions.” He pinches your clit to get your attention. “Yes, Yes I dressed like a filthy slut for you. I need your cock sir been dying to have it inside of me” You moan when he moves the fabric aside and starts to slide his tip up and down coating his tip and your juices.

“Does my pretty girl need any prepping? Or should I just fuck her like shes been asking me to hmm?” His teasing was driving you crazy. “Fuck me please just fuck me” you try to move closer to him. He pummels inside of you without a warning, his thrusts going deep. Deeper than you’ve ever felt before. He started to move faster and harder with each thrust and you couldn’t help but clench and squeeze around him.

“Shit, pretty girl you keep doing that and I might just breed this sweet pussy…oh you like that? My little slut wants me to breed her doesn’t she?” The more he spoke the more you clenched around him. Yeonjun knew what he was doing. He was much older than you and you had little to no experience. The guys you had been with didn’t make you feel an ounce of how he was making you feel.

“Yes, yes right there sir oh fuck” You felt yourself getting closer and closer. Looking at his beautiful face you couldn’t help yourself but to slide his glasses off and wear them while holding onto his biceps for support. “You look so damn sexy in my glasses I will let it slide this time but act like a little brat again and I’ll show you what brats like you get” He starts to kiss your jaw and sucking your neck making sure to leave a few marks.

As you were about to come he pulled out and flipped you over taking one of your legs and putting it on his desk. He thrusted in you from behind and the new angle made your eyes roll in the back of your head. He pulled your hair bringing your head closer to him, hips not faltering one bit. He put his hand around your jaw and brought you even closer. “Open your mouth baby” and you do exactly what he says. He does something you least expect and it turns you on even more. He spits in your mouth then closes your mouth telling you to “swallow like a good girl” while bringing that same hand he had on your jaw down smacking your ass.

“Please, please I need to come let me come please” You beg him not able to resist your release any longer. “Just a few more seconds my love I’m right there with you” His tone changed and he softened down but his thrusts were sending you so close to the edge. After a few more seconds His thrust became slower and slopier. “Come for me baby, let go for me you’ve been such a good girl” as soon as he said that you came like you’ve never done before. Your legs were shaking, your mind was fuzzy, there was drool coming down your chin. He filled you up, and the feeling of his cum inside you lit a spark. You weren’t sure if this was one of your day dreams or a reality.

He pulled out and took your panties with him while bringing your skirt down. His cum was seeping out of you and he gathered it with his fingers pushing it back inside of you while he made you lick the rest of his fingers. “Can I have my panties back?” You ask him finally after you have recollected yourself. “No they are mine now and plus I want you walking while you feel my cum inside your sweet cunt.” He had a way with words that just made you melt.

You stood back on your feet going to grab your book bag and started walking to the door. “See you next week Mr.Choi” you say smiling. “Wait” you halt and turn around. “I need my glasses back” He says pointing to your face. “No they’re mine now and plus I want you to fuck me like your brat next time so I will be keeping them for now.” You say back turning around and walking around catching his little chuckle while saying “such a brat.” You get home and look at yourself in the mirror not believing the girl staring back at you. You looked like you had your soul fucked out of you. That night you went to bed in a really good mood.

*Time Skip*

Fucking Yeonjun became part of your routine. Some days you would go on your knees for him as he graded papers. Other days you cock warmed him which led to you acting out and getting put in your place. You two enjoyed each other’s company and the sex was euphoric.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, but he made you feel special and took care of your needs like no one could. Walking into class you shoot him a smile, but unlike how he would smile back at you the past month and a half he just nodded. You found it odd but didn’t pay much attention to it as you took your seat.

Even though you were the first to finish your quiz you decided to wait until the last person to turn their quiz in for you to finally get up. As per usual you hand him your paper and you go lock the door. Walking back to him saying “If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?” He chuckles sarcastically “You’re crazy” he said. Hurt by his words and unusual demeanor you looked him straight in the eyes and said “Don’t call me crazy” You go and stand in front of him. “What’s going on? We were just fine last week. Why are you being like this?” He sighs and turns his head. “You’re special, and you need someone just as special as you. You need someone your own age and better than me” Your tears pulled in your eyes at his words. “When Did I ask for any of that? Do you think I don’t know about our age gap? Was I not good enough? Do you regret the things we shared that I’ll never forget. Why are you not saying anything?” You grab his jaw and turn his face to look at you.

“I don’t regret a single moment with you Y/N, but you know this thing between us is wrong, we have to put an end to it now.” Tears were streaming down your face now and Yeonjun couldn’t watch you in pain especially knowing he was the cause behind it. He gets up and walks out the door and your last words to him brought him to tears. Watching him walk out you couldn’t take it anymore shouting “I knew this wouldn’t last, Fuck you don’t you leave me here.” As the door shuts behind your professor you slide down hugging yourself and just crying at the pain this has caused you.

There was no one to blame but yourself you thought.

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

Taglist for this fic: @miupow @dearlyjun @junsmintchoco @seolis-world @hyhkai @txt-yaomi @my313 @mingyuslice @amoryeonjun @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @smutnoullitheorem @yuriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @junnmizz @standbytubatu @choijxn

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#mdni #Yeonjun smut #yeonjun #Yeonjun angst #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #txt smut #txt angst #txt x reader

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 6 months

Note

Happy Easter

I hope you have an amazing day!

I had this thought and I want to share it with you.

Imagine Bucky and you celebrating Easter with your little daughter. Bucky wants everything to be perfect and helps you to hide everything in your small garden. After your daughter wakes up you go to the garden and she takes Bucky's hand and you watch how they search for all the things you hid. She is so excited which makes Bucky and you very happy. 💗

Easter » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Ellie

Summary: Bucky makes sure everything is perfect for Easter for his 4 year old daughter.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, hugs and kisses, use of nicknames/pet names

A/N: @lives-in-midgard I love everything about this and I’m going to write it as a little Drabble🥰 also Happy Easter and I hope you have an amazing day too!🩵🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“Baby, everything is going to be perfect for our little girl, tomorrow.” You say with a smile.

“That’s the goal, doll.” Bucky smiles. “I hope she’ll love it.” He says.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked in his beautiful blue eyes.

“She will love it cause her daddy put all of his love into making sure it’s perfect for her.” You tell him.

Bucky smiles widely and kissed you sweetly. You hid the last few items with Bucky’s help before going to bed. The next morning, you and Bucky were woken up by yours and Bucky’s 4 year old daughter Ellie jumping up and down on the bed with excitement.

“Mommy! Daddy! It’s Easter!” Ellie says loudly.

You and Bucky smiled at your daughter’s excitement. Bucky grabbed her gently and gave her a bunch of kisses, making her giggle.

“Are you excited to see what me and mommy set up for you?” Bucky asks her.

“Yes! Let’s go!” She says, tugging on Bucky’s metal arm.

Ellie practically drug Bucky out of bed and went outside to the garden. You followed behind them. You watched from the porch as Ellie and Bucky went to the garden. Alpine jumped up on the railing and watched with you.

“Happy Easter, sweet girl.” You cooed, gently scratching behind her ear making her purr.

Ellie occasionally waved at you as she looked for eggs in the garden. You happily waved back. After a while, Ellie found all the little eggs you and Bucky hid the night before.

“Mommy, look what I found in the garden!” Ellie says, running up to you and showed you what’s in her Easter basket.

“That’s amazing, sweetie!” You say, smiling widely.

“I think the Easter bunny left you something in the living room.” Bucky tells her.

Ellie gasps with excitement and ran inside of the house with Alpine following her. You and Bucky walked in the living room at the same time she squealed excitedly. There was a basket with a white stuffed bunny and her favorite candy in it on the coffee table. She ran back to the two of you and hugs your legs.

“I wuv you, daddy! I wuv you, mommy!” Ellie says, smiling up at you and Bucky.

“We love you too, sweetheart.” You and Bucky say in unison, smiling down at your baby girl.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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alieinthemorning · 10 months

Text

Strawberry Mint Lemonade [Getou Suguru | Gojo Satoru]

Content: Meet-Cute, Indirect Kiss, Gojo Satoru Being Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru Being Getou Suguru, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Kisses, Café AU, No Curses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Crying, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Second Person, Suggestive Themes

Pronouns: None

Note: THIS IS MY 200TH WORK ON AO3 AAAAAAAAAA (Also UTC because it's 2500+ words)

Header: @/nikki101pistar on Twitter

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Your favorite drink was a simple strawberry mint lemonade. Not too sweet, not too sour. It was made the same way every single time which made sense since you'd had been coming to this hole-in-the-wall café for about three years now. Every employee, new and old knew your name and order, so when the familiar drink was placed in the completed section on the counter, you didn't look twice at it and immediately took a sip.

"What the fuck is this shit?" It was as if your straw was made of sugarcane, the strawberry and lemon pieces were formed from sugar cubes and the liquid itself was pure syrup.

"Ew...what is this?" Someone from beside you, whined.

Looking over, you found an incredibly tall man with stark white hair and—oh, you couldn't see his eye color behind the dark, round shades. You were about to turn around and talk to an employee about this...horror from hell, but your eyes drifted to the drink in his large hand.

You eyed your own drink, frowning at the name written on the side.

Satoru

You looked at the man again. "Are you Satoru?"

He nodded, then said your name. "I'm assuming that's you?"

You sighed, shoving his drink toward him. "Thank god—hand me my drink. I can't drink pure sugar."

"Awww, come on! It isn't that bad! " He pouted as he switched drinks.

You took a long swig of yours before you replied. "It was like drinking the three states of matter. Solid, Liquid and Gaseous Sugar."

"How would it even be gaseous?"

"The air from the straw."

He laughed loudly, startling the other customers.

You flushed, grabbing him by the elbow. "Come on, let's sit and talk."

The Goliath of a man let you drag him to a secluded corner, where the two of you talked each other's ears off. However, despite ordering another drink of your own, you noticed that he still hadn't touched his own.

"You gonna let the ice water down the sugar?" You grinned, "Was I right about it tasting like shit?"

He balked at you. "No way!"

You nodded toward the drink, "Then drink it."

He looked at you, the drink, you again then finally swiped the drink off the table, guzzling it down in mere seconds.

"There! Are you satisfied?" His head was swiveled to the side, tucked into that weird high collared jacket of his, but you swore the tips of his ears were flushed red.

"How are you alive?" You asked in slight awe.

That got him to look at you again, all smiles too. "Must be my impeccable genes."

You raised a brow. "You a citizen of the Candy Kingdom or something? Built like Candy Wife?"

He just smiled at you. "I have no idea about what you're talking about."

The two of you chatted for longer than expect, leaving just an hour before closing.

"Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe so."

And he did, the two of you ending up seeing each other at least once a week for a few months. And of course, you learned a lot about Satoru during that time.

You learned that he had a very unhealthy obsession with sweets. That, despite the goofy look that he basically always had plastered on his face, he was quite intelligent. Oh, and that he had really bright blue eyes (like limpid tears) and the reason why he wore shades was because his eyes were really sensitive and without them, he was prone to awful migraines.

You also were beginning to develop a bit of a crush on him, but you were sure someone has beautiful as him had to already be taken. So, you decided to stuff the feelings in the deepest part of your heart.

And today you learned—

That he was bringing someone else with him today.

The person Satoru brought with him was a stark contrast to him (except in clothing—they both wore dark-colored clothing). He was maybe only a few inches shorter than him with long dark hair that was in an up-down style with a bit of hair draping the left side of his face. You watched that as Satoru pointed at you, the man's eyes slid to you and his lips turned upward. Then Satoru headed toward the counter while the man made his way to you.

He called your name and you raised a brow.

He chuckled. "Satoru told me your name." He slid into the seat across from you, "My name is Suguru. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

You leaned back in your chair, a bit uncomfortable with his familiarity with you. "Oh? Has Satoru talked about me that much."

Suguru leaned in closer, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his intertwined finger. "Oh, you have no idea."

Before you could question him further on the subject, Satoru placed their drinks on the table, alongside a few sweets.

"Seems like the two of you are getting along." He said with a hum as he pulled a chair over to complete your little group.

"Yeah, sure—Satoru, what exactly have you been telling Suguru here about me?"

His brows shot up to his hairline as his head swiveled to Suguru. "What did you say?"

Suguru just smiled. "I haven't said too much." The unspoken yet at the end of that sentence was very loud.

You sighed, nudging Satoru's foot. "So, you gonna properly introduce me or am I supposed to keep thinking of your friend here as a creep?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," He placed a hand on top of Suguru's, "This is my boyfriend, Suguru. We've been together for a few years now, and been best friends for longer."

Your heart dropped into your stomach, and you felt your lips dip downward. You quickly covered your mouth with your hand, raising a brow. "Oh? We've been talking for so long, and you just now tell me about your significant other? I thought we were closer than that, Satoru."

You knew you didn't play that off well, you knew that Satoru knew that what he had said hurt you.

And Suguru?

Suguru just smiled.

Despite the rocky first meeting and sudden revelation, you, Satoru and Suguru continued meeting (after you had bullied Satoru into inviting Suguru again).

Slowly yet surely, you learned more about Suguru and their relationship. Suguru was the one who did the majority of the cooking (while Satoru baked to quell his late night sweet cravings). He was really sweet and caring despite the shit eating grin that was etched on his face. He also was a pretty big flirt.

Which...was very unsettling to you. Since it seemed like he was very open to doing it in front of Satoru, who didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

"You look very beautiful today."

"Oh, um, thank you..."

"I especially like the lip color you've chosen today."

You balked at him, face becoming warm as you looked between him and Satoru.

Satoru continued to sip on his drink and scroll through his phone.

And Suguru—

Just fucking smiled.

And later that night, you knew you were screwed.

You were in love with both Satoru and Suguru.

So, you did what you did with your feelings for Satoru and shoved your feelings for Suguru down alongside his. Instead of running away from them and saving your heart, you hurt yourself even more Getting closer and closer to them to the point where you had visited each others homes and you've met each others other friends (Shoko and Nanami were your favorites among them).

Today you were over at Satoru and Suguru's very nice house (another thing you learned about Satoru is that the was stupidly rich). You were simply lounging around, not over for any specific reason, just to be in their presence, when Satoru suddenly stood up from his relaxed position on the couch.

"I need donuts." And without another word, he snatched his keys off the kitchen island and was out the door before either you and Suguru could utter a word.

Now, you had been alone with Suguru before—plenty of times, when Satoru had suddenly broke off from the two of you to take a closer look at things (see: recklessly spend money). But that was usually when you were out in public, where you could go and run to Satoru if you needed.

You'd never been alone with him like this—trapped within four walls.

And of fucking course, he did what he always did and—

"Why are you always smiling like that?" The question came out rougher than you intended, but your nerves were very quickly becoming frayed.

"Smiling like what?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Like you know everything—I don't know." You crossed your arms with a huff.

"You mean like how I know that you like Satoru and I." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Your arms grew slack, hands falling into your lap.

He nodded to himself, "Another tell-tale reaction. This is good…"

"How is this good?" You snapped at him. "I'm in love with the two of you, who are already in a committed relationships."

He had the audacity to look surprised for a moment before his smile widened. "You love us? That's even better."

"How can you—" You sniffled, feeling the hot tears quickly race down your cheeks. "I have been selfishly spending time with the two of you. Despite how I feel, and knowing that I should just stop associating with you. I've instead decided to intruding on your relationship, just so that I can experience the tiniest fantasy of something that will never be." You were somehow able to make through your entire confession before you broke down, curling in on yourself.

You heard Suguru sigh then a bit of shuffling before the couch dipped and you were pulled into his warm embrace, which made you cry harder.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Darling." His whispered above your head. "I should have been more upfront."

You shoved him back, looking up into his brown eyes. "Been more upfront with knowing good and well about my fucking inner turmoil."

"No," His hands slipped into yours." I should have just told you that Satoru and I feel the same way."

Your heart stopped.

There was no way that that was true. There was no way that Satoru and Suguru both felt the same way about you—and even if they did there was no way that you could choose one over the other, and you definitely wouldn't want to be the reason why they broke up either.

"Please." His voice was strained, "Just give me one chance to show you."

"I don't want to do anything behind—"

"And we won't. I'll wait until he comes back and then I'll ask for permission to kiss you. In front of him."

You sighed deeply, finally resigning yourself to your fucked up fate.

You leaned into him, "If this all goes to shit—I'll hate you forever."

"If it does go to shit, I'll accept your rightful infinite hatred."

The two of you were quite as you waited for Satoru to return. You were too exhausted to speak. Suguru was fine with that, perfectly content with rubbing circles onto your hands to help soothe you.

And then the front door was unlocked, and your anxiety spiked.

But Suguru wasn't going to go back on his word.

"Can I kiss you now?" Suguru asked the moment Satoru stepped into the room.

Your eyes were wide, frantically looking between the two of them, while your lips opened and closed like a fish.

Suguru placed a hand on your cheek, guiding you back to him.

He said your name, soft and sweet. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes." You said it so quietly that you weren't sure that he heard you, but he very quickly assured you otherwise as his lips met yours.

Right in front of your close friend—his boyfriend, Satoru.

It was as soft as a rose petal, acutely aware of your fragile state.

"Yes—finally!" Satoru slammed the box of donuts on the kitchen counter then rushed over, reaching out for you.

Suguru intercepted him. "You need to ask first, Satoru."

He nodded furiously at his partner before turning to you, blue eyes bright. "Can I kiss you? Please?"

You blinked at him a few time before nodding. Satoru wasted no time and grabbed your cheeks, pulling you forward to meet him half way.

While Suguru's was soft, Satoru's was rough and rushed. Like he couldn't get enough of you now that he had you.

It didn't last long though became Suguru was quick to yank him off you.

"Slow down, Satoru." He flicked his forehand, shaking his head at his pout (your eyes kept finding his lips—they were red and shiny). "All this is new and we haven't even been given an answer yet."

"We just kissed? Isn't that enough of an answer?" Satoru asked Suguru who just gestured to you. Those blue spotlights turned on you. "Isn't it?"

"I mean—" You bit your lip. "I haven't actually said yes or no yet, but..."

"But...?"

You pursed your lips as you glared at the two of them. "...you both better not make me regret this down the line."

Suguru smiled, and despite it being the same know-it-all smile, you felt completely and utter secured by it. "We promise, Darling."

"What? You've already got pet names? No fair!" He paused. "Wait, what exactly did the two of you do while I was gone...?"

Your favorite drink was a simple strawberry mint lemonade. Not too sweet, not too sour. It was made the same way every single time, which made sense since you'd had been coming to this hole-in-the-wall café for about six years now. Every employee, new and old, knew your name and order, so when the familiar drink was placed in the completed section on the counter, you didn't look twice at it and immediately took a sip.

"Oh, what the fuck—Satoru, take your shit ass drink." You shoved the drink into his waiting hand, taking your own and immediately taking a plate cleansing sip.

Suguru chuckled. "I'm surprised that after all these years, the two of you are still getting your drinks mixed up."

"Who is we?" Satoru pointed at you, "This is the one who takes a sip without looking at the name on the side of the cup."

"That wouldn't matter if you didn't drink straight sugar—and then have the damn audacity to eat sweets with it." You eyed him, "Is your body okay?"

He smirked. "Oh, you know my body is absolutely perfect, but I'm sure we can—" Suguru flicked him in the cheek.

"Not in public."

Satoru balked at his audacity (and you to a lesser extent). "Says the one who literally—"

You lightly kicked his shin and hissed, "Not in public!"

"I can't believe my two partners are bullying me like this." He slumped in his seat. "I can't believe I have to deal with this for the rest of my life."

You shrugged, snatching one of his sweets. "You're the one who decided to put a ring on it."

"Now you're stuck with us forever." Suguru nodded in agreement.

Satoru watched the two of you fondly, a wide smile stretched across his lips.

"Yeah, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

I've finally done it.

For my 200th work, I finally gave you all the Sugu/Sato/Reader fluff you all deserved.

IT'S ALSO MY FIRST ONE-SHOT THAT'S OVER 2500 WORDS????

I really popped off for y'all (wipes away a tear).

Now time for me to binge the anime and get back to our regular scheduled programming of Tear Jerking Angst.

Please be excited :)

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sugosato x reader #satosugu x reader #getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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yurababy · 2 years

Text

don’t listen in secret

imagine being best friends with idol group seventeen! very fun! and you get to sleep with them as a friendly favor! yay... hold on,

in order words, adventures as all of seventeen’s fuck buddy organized into a series masterlist

started with jeonghan and plans to end with jeonghan. plans can always change ... open for links to each member’s story & be sure to request more parts if u enjoyed <3 no specific order for posting so just lmk who you want next!! hmu anywhere to be added 2 the taglist

taglist ♡ @zen003xx @seung-sungs @angelwonie @rubyreduji @vvsmydiamonds127 @shualicious @whyokoa @dreamhannies @313hwa @minnie-mouser22 @knucklesdeepmingi @lenireads @oolanderr @bestboysvt @misssugarlips @whereisgyu @kodzukein @i4kt @wonushuasworld @aurumness @bibinnieposts @venusprada @ikissvernon @listxn @starlight-nightz @svtrbi @bakugosbottombitch @kooklovesu @alluringlino @hiddlesdweeb

Choi Seungcheol; the sanctuary

read “Your Touch, my Lullaby” here!

Yoon Jeonghan; the enigma

read “Angel or Devil” here!

Joshua Hong; the gentleman

coming soon! (joshua, sweetheart, listener, kind hearted joshua is pissed off so you let him take it out on you)

Wen Junhui; the light

coming soon! (all of junnie’s acting experience has him as a real life manic pixie dream popular school best friend who pins you against walls)

Kwon Soonyoung; the keen

coming soon! (hoshi who would drop everything for you)

Jeon Wonwoo; the seasons

coming soon! (24시 gamex13 boi sorry he’s such a lil nerd i love him)

Lee Jihoon; the artist

read “You’re a Whole Constellation” here!

Kim Mingyu; the cupid

coming soon! (mingyu who tries to play matchmaker.. think his heart wink from hot mv)

Lee Seokmin; the dream

coming soon! (who wouldn’t have a crush on dk honestly. and he’s so clueless but not even in a dorky way he’s just so hot)

Xu Minghao; the shadow

coming soon! (haohao watches you with the other members because he’s too shy to make a move but desperately wants your attention)

Boo Seungkwan; the observer

coming soon! (not sure but reader will send him a nude on accident and it’ll all go from there bc sly seungkwan is hot)

Vernon Chwe; the eye candy

coming soon! (exactly what eye candy means 😭)

Lee Chan; the determined

coming soon! (i have a very specific scene in mind)

☆ will update the lil mini descriptions as time goes by & when i make the headers.

#seventeen smut #seventeen fic #seungcheol smut #jeonghan smut #joshua smut #junhui smut #hoshi smut #wonwoo smut #woozi smut #minghao smut #mingyu smut #seokmin smut #seungkwan smut #vernon smut #dino smut #seventeen x reader

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thecoffeelorian · 1 month

Text

Minesweeper

Minesweeper (Crosshair x Reader)

Premise: The saga continues. In other words, you and Crosshair are about to cut and run after dropping off Omega...but then, unforeseen events threaten to derail everything.

Word Count: 1,846

Masterlist: The Surprise Guest Series

Story Notes: Sooo...it's like this. I absolutely hated the first draft of this chapter, and the second, and the third...and to be honest, I was very close to scrapping the whole project, because it sucked. However. Just when I was about to give up, I was reminded that Commander Mayday didn't receive a proper funeral, and then that led to the idea that his body conveniently disappeared so that the Batch didn't have to think of one, which then led to a similar thought about Tech's body and how HE didn't receive a proper funeral...which led to a long list of unfinished business I'd gathered over the years that TBB aired, as well as the lingering thought in the back of my mind that, just like in The Clone Wars, there was some kind of unreliable narrator in charge of everything. Kind of like how the anti-dragon Maesters of Oldtown were in charge of writing Fire and Blood...but that House of the Dragon just might be telling the true story of the "Dance of the Dragons". So, in a nutshell, I'm back. Back to tell a more complex tale if I can, back to give more honor to the Clone Troopers if I'm able, and back to remove the bad bait-and-switch tactics that have been kinda prevalent throughout every new season of episodes. I only have one thing to ask of everyone else who's still reading, commenting, and reblogging: Buckle up!

Special Notes: As always, kudos to @stars-n-spice for my oh-so-lovely Crosshair header, and thank you! Oh, and one more thing--Happy Sniper Saturday!!

No Pressure Tags:

@techhasmjolnir @ms-grassi @donntmindmejustwandering @skellymom @youreababboon

@libraryfordyslexics @melymigo @otomefan @salirvine @aqua248

@cyare-of-the-501st @cobalt-candy @housepartyfortwo @rogue616 @theosb0rnway

@herculesjrockefeller @leos-multifandom-corner @baddest-batchers @crosshair-lover @groguandthebadbatch

@gigachadcowboy @ash04w3 @thatacefr @evabellasworld @momojedi

@marvelsgoddessofmischief @badbatchlover @mysticalgalaxysalad and anybody else on the lookout for more Crosshair x Reader stories.

Some time later, when your shuttle has safely touched down upon solid ground and the thrill of adventure has somewhat faded...you find yourself staring a bit too long into Crosshair’s golden-brown eyes, a cold sweat developing on the back of your neck.

It’s time.

Time to start putting all of your droids in a row, perhaps, though not without praying for a miracle or two.

In other words...you’ve made it. You’re now waiting at the exact place where you’ve agreed to send Omega over, a more than fair arrangement considering her bond with Hunter and Wrecker is a lot stronger than any attachment she might have with either of you. In fact, if this was the average Republic court case and you were supposed to negotiate a custody arrangement for her, naturally, the Troopers with the longest childcare record would probably take precedence above all others.

That does not, however, make it any easier to carry out the second part of your plan.

“Wait till I tell everyone who I found!”

Not when Omega herself is awake again and behaving as though you won’t be rejected by everyone else, never mind flat out shunned for breaking whatever rules had gotten Crosshair in trouble in the first place.

No, instead, she talks and acts like whatever drove him away from the fold simply didn’t happen, a curious habit that you’re not yet sure of whether or not you’d be wise to copy.

“Once we get to Pabu, I can introduce you to all the others, too! Lyana and her dad, Phee Genoa, the two ladies who live down the street—oh, but to Hunter first!”

Hunter first, huh...? Easier said than done, kiddo.

Not only do you have no clue whatsoever on how to respond to this idea, but you’re also unsure as to whether or not you should care about what this one might think of you. To begin with, you’ve heard precious little about him, so it’s hard to figure out if he’ll agree to shake your hand or spit in your face.

Second, as you were, after all, the one who joined up with the one person he couldn’t stand...perhaps he may end up doing just that out of spite.

Or so your wandering thoughts suggest to you.

As to whether or not he’ll give you a shipload of grief for daring to talk to his kid without him knowing about it first...well, that remains to be seen. All you can really do is open the back hatch with a short pull of the lever; wait for the door to fully lower itself; and then step out of the way.

Less than a minute later, Omega’s just about launched herself down the small staircase and out onto the open plain, a loud chuckle rumbling from the safety of the other ship. “Now THERE’S a sight!”

You both are sure to stay out of their field of vision as Omega finds the first of the two, a somewhat loud Trooper who Crosshair names in a whisper as Wrecker. From what you can see right around the door, he might also have a touch of gigantism, if only because he seems to almost take up the whole entrance of his own ship the moment he steps outside.

That, unfortunately, turns out to be the easy part...because once Omega’s reunion with Hunter takes place, you’re both pressing yourselves against the wall for Force knows whatever reason. Maybe he’s afraid to face the music, or maybe you’re terrified of backlash. Maybe you’re just turning your eyes away from everything happening outside, because in that way, you won’t get any second thoughts about going back into the ether.

Or maybe, as long as you stay hidden, it’ll be easier for them to forget all about you.

Regardless of your reasons, though, this is supposed to be her big return home and nobody else’s...so, naturally, you’re not going to be the type of idiot that stands around and ruins the party. Not when you could instead pull the lever to get that hatch door moving, and so move on to getting the engines roaring to life. Not when you could grant Omega her happy ending, at the expense of anything that could have led to your own.

Only...you can’t.

The lever’s suddenly locked itself on the open position, and with it, there’s no pushing it back up again to get it closed.

“Kriff it!”

“What?”

“The stupid door won’t shut!”

You’re using all of your strength to get it to move, yet how Crosshair’s quick to observe, it doesn’t budge so much as an inch.

“Hm...”

Neither will it do anything for his sake, apparently, because he pushes until he almost goes purple from the effort of it...and the door remains exactly as it was before.

“Let me guess,” he mutters with some annoyance, just barely catching his own breath in time.

“You forgot to oil this thing before we left.”

“Well excuse ME, but we were all in a hurry.”

“Oh, of course.”

“What, like you weren’t scrambling to leave, too?”

The two of you glance as one unit toward the open door, a part of your inner thoughts wondering just what might happen if you decided to be the first to step outside. Would you end up using your blaster before anyone else, or would they instead be the first to use theirs upon you? Do you even have the right to force such a confrontation, or would it be somehow better to wait in silence, hoping they lose interest?

“Well...now what do we do?”

Then again...just how safe are you going to be anyplace else, especially with a broken ship? As if to answer your question, there's just silence coming from the outside. No more sound or movement to speak of now, a somewhat unnerving sign that everyone is waiting for you and Crosshair to show up on the gangplank, if not also make your way to the solid ground beneath. Thanks to the great seizing up of the ship hatch, your planned escape would be nothing less than a death wish at this point, as the natural vacuum this would create would suck the both of you out into the open air within minutes, followed by a long drop and a sudden stop.

In other words, there’s nowhere else for you to go but out.

“Guess we’re just gonna have to rough it.”

“Are you sure...?”

“Well, we’re not getting off the ground anymore, are we?”

You accept this idea in silence, the growing lurch within your stomach the only physical reaction you’re willing to admit to yourself. Crosshair’s not exactly the picture of happiness either, as he still has no idea whether or not he’s about to step into an emotional minefield, and if so...just which one of you is about to become the minesweeper.

Nevertheless, as soon as he’s lifting his left hand to reach for yours, the trembling somewhat worse this time than it was when you reached hyperspace...you’re not afraid to accept it with both hands, as you’re already more than sure that you’re about to do this together.

Anything to keep either one of you from cracking under all the stress.

“I’ve got you, Cross. Let’s go.”

This is how you come to descend the steps as one, his injured hand safe and warm inside your own as you go to meet your combined fate. Your steps remain quiet and unassuming, the one-two one-two march the only rhythm you’re willing to demonstrate for something so tense...and then you both look up from the ground toward the faces that await.

For the first few seconds, you make a quiet note to thank Omega later, even if it’s only for the look of hope and support she gives you.

Then you turn your focus to the other two, and it’s here that all promise of a joyful reconciliation dies.

“So this is what the Empire offers in return for complicity.”

The hateful look in Hunter’s eyes makes this all too clear to you in a matter of seconds.

“Free barracks bunnies.”

In its place, there’s a small ache in the pit of your stomach as he shoots daggers in your direction, disapproval and rage just about leaking out of his every pore right before he turns his back upon you. So this is what it’s going to be, then...total condemnation, full stop, and right before you can even introduce yourself.

Lucky me.

“Good thing—escaped—wouldn’t want—these people.”

Your feeling of unease doubles as his words become half cut off, no doubt because he’s both turned away from you and lowering his voice on purpose. The fact of there being thirty feet of distance between your side and his figures into this as well, since there’s little chance of anybody’s words carrying over to you now.

And yet...it’s certainly not an obstacle to seeing exactly what the one called Wrecker thinks of you, for even at this distance, he copies Hunter’s rage to a tee.

Double the luck, then.

“Anyway—say we leave—home—Mantell Mix?”

This can either end in a parting of ways to opposite ends of the galaxy or a knock-down-drag-out fight at this point...and right now, you’re not so sure about the parting idea.

In fact, as crazy as it sounds within your thoughts, you’re almost stuck waiting to see who decides to take the first swing.

“No.”

Then again, once Omega starts walking away from Hunter and back in your direction...that idea of fighting it out also lessens just a little. Funny what a few minutes of conversation can do.

“They didn’t do anything to me, okay? Crosshair helped me steal a ship, and Y/N flew us out on another—”

“—And now they’re nothing but mindless fascists, so—”

“—So I think we can all go back together to the island now—”

“—No, we’re going back to Pabu. They can go ahead and lie in the beds they made.”

It’s just a little unnerving to watch, of course. These two now seem to be in direct conflict where they might have once been working together, so naturally, you won’t even consider fanning the flames. This is why you’re careful not to speak up or interrupt.

“Oh, really? And what about Y/N? Aren’t they also hiding from—”

“I don’t care. It’s not a good idea for you to be out in the open like this...all right?”

He makes a slow movement to nudge her in the direction of their own back hatch, clearly wanting to get all three of his remaining people back on board so that he could put this planet, never mind you and Crosshair, a long distance behind him. Maybe he might have a valid reason or two to do just that, because Crosshair isn’t exactly trying to meet his eyes, either.

“Wrong.”

Then again, it looks like Omega isn’t going to take any of this lying down...because the next thing all of you know, she’s pulling away to stand a lot closer to you. “We escaped Tantiss together, we left the planet together...and I’m not going back to Pabu without them.”

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otomefiend · 1 year

Text

Victor & William Rex

Story Event: Villains want to bother little 'Robin'

Chapter 1

Those two! Never a boring day with them around. And the eye candy. 🥰

They sure love teasing Kate and their dramatic delivery is top notch. Also writing their names in the header totally made them an item 🤭

~~Part 1~~

As the waning moon illuminated the night sky above the Crown Castle with its pale light, the sound of moving chess pieces could be heard in the common room.

Kate: "The bishop can move diagonally. So, like this...?"

William: "Hmm, yes. Your memory is excellent. You haven't forgotten anything after hearing it once."

Kate: "Heh, because your teaching style is fun and effective."

William: "You think so? I'm honoured by your praise."

(... but it's going to be a long time before I can compete with William)

William: "... by the way, Kate."

William: "Would you like to become a queen?"

Kate: "Yes, that's right. Because this is the rook...eh?"

(... what now?)

William: "Were you so engrossed in the game that you didn't hear me? I asked you if you'd like to become a queen."

Apparently, it wasn't just my imagination.

There was always a purpose to what William said and I always tried to understand it.

Kate: "...I'm sorry, William. I have no idea what you mean."

Victor: "In the literal sense, Kate."

Hearing a voice behind me, I turned around to see Victor.

Kate: "Victor!"

Victor: "Jeez, I thought I was going to tell you myself. William is so impatient!"

William: "Heh, my apologies."

William: "Then I shall leave the rest of the explanation to the Queen's Aide."

~~Part 2~~

With a charming expression Victor took over from William.

Victor: "Kate, did you know that tomorrow is the anniversary of Her Majesty's accession to the throne?"

Kate: "Yes, of course. When I worked delivering the mail, I used to see the city bustling with celebrations."

On the day commemorating Queen Victoria's accession to the throne, there were ceremonies and parades, and the city was bustling with excitement at the thought of seeing her.

For the people of this country, Her Majesty was a symbol of prosperity.

Victor: "There will be a parade tomorrow, and Her Majesty is supposed to appear before the public..."

Victor: "Yet the Queen, who is vital to the celebrations, is feeling unwell."

Kate: "What! Is Her Majesty all right..?"

William: "Don't fret. Her Majesty is strong-willed, she'll recover in no time."

Victor: "Let's cut to the chase, why don't you take part in the parade in Her Majesty's stead?"

Kate: "Why..... in Her Majesty's stead?"

Victor: "Well, opportunity like this doesn't come by often and I'm sure you'll have a great time!"

Even though his proposal was completely outrageous, Victor's excitement was enough to make me consider it.

(Hmm...)

(Her Majesty covers her face with a veil, which makes replacing her somewhat plausible?)

Kate: "Although I'm honoured to have this opportunity."

Kate: "It would be disrespectful of me to speak on Her Majesty's behalf without permission..."

William: "Then don't worry. Her Majesty has agreed for you to take her place."

Kate: "Oh... has she?"

Victor: "Yes, but on one condition."

Kate: "What's the condition...?"

~~Part 3~~

Victor grabbed the queen and the king pieces from the chessboard with his fingertips.

Victor: "That I'm there."

William: "And so am I."

Victor • William: "Serving by your side and protecting you with our lives."

The queen and the king's pieces rolled into my palm.

Kate: "Thank you... to hear such words from Her Majesty."

Kate: "Additionally, there's nothing more reassuring than having both of you by my side."

The self-righteous king and the Queen's strongest aide; there were no men more powerful than these two.

(I need to do my best to meet the expectations!)

Kate: "Please let me take on this role."

Victor: "Yay, then it's decided. I'm sure it will be an unforgettable day for you."

William: "Let's leave the chess study for tomorrow, shall we?"

William: "Good night. Sweet dreams, Kate."

~~~

On the day of the anniversary, I was escorted by both men,

And taken to a place I had never set foot in before --

~~Part 4~~

I was in the audience room in the palace.

(Whoa...)

Victor: "I'm pretty sure this is your first visit here."

Kate: "...Yes. You always present my reports to Her Majesty yourself."

William mentioned to me before that the Queen preferred silence and didn't let anyone get too close.

That's why only a limited number of people could enter this place.

A red carpet led to a throne in the distance, and the whole space exuded serenity.

William: "Heh, you look like a child who discovers the world for the first time, Kate."

William: "As much as I'd love to look at your curious face... there's something I need you to do."

Kate: "What would you like me to do?"

Victor: "Shall we take off your clothes first?"

Kate: "...eh?"

I was led to the back room, then stripped out of my own clothes and dressed in the new ones provided for me.

Kate: "...um, I'm done changing."

A lace veil covered my face, diamond earrings adorned my ears,

I wore a ceremonial dress.

William: "Yes, it suits you well. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn it was Her Majesty."

Kate: "...I was surprised that it fits so perfectly!"

Victor: "Hehe, this humble me adjusted it to your size."

Victor: "Also, these shoes are custom-made to disguise your height. I'm a genius!"

Victor: "Finally, the crown to complete the look; it's going to be perfect."

~~Part 5~~

The crown in Victor's hands had an overwhelming presence all by itself.

Victor: "This crown is a symbol of glory, triumph, power ...... it has different meanings."

Victor: "Her Majesty calls it collectively the Symbol of Liberty."

Kate: "Liberty..."

He gently placed the crown on my head.

Kate: "Somehow it makes me... feel tall."

William: "That's good. Thanks to this, you will be able to see better what reflects in the eyes of others."

Victor: "Come to think of it, William has taken Her Majesty's place before."

Kate: "Huh, William?"

William: "The Queen's life was in danger. So I took her place."

William: "Her Majesty does not hum or sit with her legs spread. It was quite a challenge."

Kate: "Hehe, I'd love to see Her Majesty Queen William just once."

William: "I might do it again for you."

(... still, it is true)

(Being at the top of the country means there are more opportunities to be exposed to danger)

Victor: "It's fine, Kate."

Victor: "You'll be accompanied by William and I, the most powerful duo within the Crown."

Victor: "Just enjoy your day as Her Majesty."

William: "......"

(Victor is right. With these two, I'll be safe no matter what)

(I'll do my part and observe things with my own eyes)

Kate: "I'll do it!"

Victor: "Shall we go then? It's going to be a fun day."

Chapter 2

#ikemen villains #ikevil #victor & william #ikevil victor & william #victor #ikevil victor #william rex #ikevil william #ikevil story event #fan translation

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homestylehughes · 3 months

Text

don't you ever grow up

pairing(s) beckett sennecke x fem!reader

summary: beckett and yn throughout the years falling in love with each other.

warning(s): none. just some pure teeth rotting fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

an: hi loves!! new fic about a new pookie!! Beckett!! ughhhh I love this fic so much. I was inspired by a Taylor swift song..no surprise here!! i loved writing this so much, its so sweet and cute. I wasn't too sure how to write Beckett, so I just kinda went with it LOL. also I love the header I made, its just so?? cute LOL! anyways! I hope you enjoy, like and reblog if you do! more coming very soon! let me know if you have ideas for me! much love as always.

happy reading <3

12 years old

“Yn!! Put your bike up, it's time for dinner!” I hear my mom shouting from the front yard of our house. Letting out a deep sigh, I sadly slowly turned myself around. I was just getting to a good part of my ride mom, I thought to myself as I made my way back to our house.

Pink and purple clouds litter the sky, summer nights in Canada were always so beautiful, the clouds kinda look like cotton candy? I wonder what flavors they taste like, I think to myself as I continue to ride down the street. My mind is so captured by the cotton candy colored clouds and the way the ground feels beneath my bike, that I forget that I'm riding a bike, before I feel myself crashing into something.

As soon as I know it, I'm laying straight on my back in the middle of the sidewalk. I turn my head to the side to see my pink sparkly bike turned upside down on its side. I lean myself up slightly to see something I ran into, happens to be a boy?

“Oh my gosh” the boy says, scrabbling to his feet, his helmet on his head crooked from the crash.

“Are you hurt, do you need 911?” he asks me, dropping his knees beside me.

“Im okay, i don't need 911” i giggle

“Good, i thought i killed you” he says, offering me a hand pulling me to my feet

“Thank you '' I say, dusting myself off from the crash, fully taking in the boy in front of me, his short brown hair sticking out from his helmet, his blue eyes softly shining in the evening sun.

“Do you have a concussion? You're looking at me kinda weird” he asks, waving his hand in front of my face.

“Im okay, im okay” i say quickly, embarrassed that he caught me looking at him

“Okay, I'm very sorry for running into you, I was looking at the clouds..” he trails off, as he pushes my bike towards me from the grass.

“Do you think they look like cotton candy?” i ask smiling

“I WAS THINKING THAT” he laughs

“ME TOO” I say laughing back at him, as I get on my bike, the nameless boy doing the same.

“So what's your name” i ask as we start to slowly pettle our way down the sidewalk

“Beckett” he says,

“you?” he asks turning to me

“Yn”

“So yn” he says looking forward, “What do you think the cotton candy clouds taste like?”

14 years old.

“FIRST DAY OF HIGHSCHOOL HOW ARE WE FEELING?” Beckett yells beside me from the backseat of his moms car.

“I'd feel much better if you were not yelling in my ear at 8 in the morning” sending him a tight lipped smile.

“Sorry sorry… im just excited and nervous” he says

“Why are you nervous?” i ask confused by his statement

“What if no one likes me? Or or i hate the classes i have” he rambles

“Beckett, you're probably already the most popular boy in our grade and you haven't even stepped foot into the school, you're going to be just fine '' I say, resting my hand on his leg in an attempt to calm him down.

“You always know how to make everything better. What would I do without you?” he says, smiling at me.

“You'd go crazy probably” i laugh, “don't ever think about replacing me” i say teasingly

“I could never, no one could replace my best girl”

Best girl?? Oh gosh, is this car getting hot or is it me?

“Come one, thing one and thing two” Beckett's mom says from the front seat, before she opens her door. We quickly grab our bags, getting out of the car.

“Okay come on you two! Picture time!” she says smiling, holding her phone out in front of her, ready for the picture

“Mom. Are you serious?” Beckett whines from beside me, a quick elbow jab to his side quickly shuts him up.

“Ow!” he yelps

“Shut up and take the picture you big baby”

“Yes ma’am” he says rubbing his side dramatically

“Okay get closer! Act like you two love each other” she says

Beckett and I huddle in closer together upon his moms request, feeling his arm wrap around my waist, my heart rate picking up at the feeling. Snap out of it yn get it together. It's just your 14 year old hormones.

“OKAY 1 2 3!” his moms shouts from us, snapping out of my daydream, i cast a big smile on my lips for the picture.

“Awwwww!! You two look so cute. Ugh please don't ever grow up you guys!!” she says before pulling us into a hug with each of her arms.

“Okay” she says pulling back, “have the best first day ever! I love you both, beckett please watch out for yn”

“Always mom, always gotta look after my best girl” he says, slinging an arm around my shoulder, as we walk up the stairs of the school, with a smile on my face that can be seen across the world.

Not knowing how the first day of highschool would go for the next four years, but what I did know was that I was in love with my best friend.

16 years old.

Today is the day of the sophomore formal. My hands couldn't help but shake as I touched and fixed my hair for the 300th time in the last 5 minutes. Staring at myself in the mirror as I run my hands along my dress, in an attempt to smooth out the non existent wrinkles.

“Yn honey how's it going in there?” i hear my mom call out from the other side of the door

“Good..just looking over everything!” I say, taking a deep breath and one last look at myself before I open the door.

Slowly walking out, seeing my mom standing in the doorway, her hand moving to cover her mouth as she stares at me.

“How do I look?” I nervously ask my hands running to lay with the fabric of my dress.

“Oh baby, you look stunning. Beckett won't be able to keep his eyes off of you the whole night.” she says to me, her voicing cracking with emotion

“Really?”

“Yes really, you look beautiful” running a hand across my cheek, as she looks at me

“Gosh i didnt think id get this emotional” she rasps out

“Okay let's go downstairs, and get some pictures! Beckett should be here any-” the noise of the doorbell cuts her off

“Speak of the devil, there he is!” she turns to me with a smile, “okay you wait up here and then i'll tell you when to come down, okay?”

Nodding my head in agreement, as she begins to make sure way downstairs. My voice feels like it's caught in my throat as I stand there. My nerves start to rise again at the thought of Beckett seeing me all dressed up. Oh gosh what if he thinks i look bad, and doesn't want to go with me anymore??

“Yn, honey are you ready?” my mom calls from the bottom of the stairs

“Yeah, coming!”I shout, now or never I think to myself, taking one last deep breath before heading down the stairs.

My slow steps only add to the building nerves that I already have in my body. My head remains low as I walk down the stairs, scared to look up and see everyones eyes on me. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, slowly bringing my head up, locking eyes with a suited up, wide eyed beckett.

“Hi” i whisper softly

“You look so beautiful” he says instantly

“Thank you, you look handsome” I say, a nervous smile spreading across my face.

“Here these flowers are for you '' Beckett says, holding out the most beautiful bouquet of flowers i've ever seen in front of me.

“These are so beautiful, thank you”

“You're welcome, always gotta do the best for my best girl” he says with a smile

Best girl. Best girl. Best girl.

“Okay, come on love birds, picture time!” my mom says from beside us, beckett quickly moving to grab my hand and part of my dress as i walk out the door. Flashing him a smile as we head outside

“Okay, act like you two love each other!” becketts mom says from beside mine, standing in front of us, as they hold their phones out.

Becketts arm finds my waist, as mine finds his, looking at each other with soft smiles before turning back towards the camera.

“1 2 3!” my mom says

“Oh! They look so darling!! How cute!” our moms say, as they look at the pictures

“Okay another one!”

Quickly moving back into picture formation, putting a smile on my face ready for the picture, just as my mom is counting down I feel becketts lips pressing against the side of my head, right as the picture is taken.

Heat flows through my body once he pulls away, a smile dancing across his lips as he looks down at me.

“You look beautiful” he says once again to me

“When you look at me like that, i feel like i am” i say

“Good, my best girl should always feel like that”

Not knowing what his best girl means as he pulls me towards his car, but I do know that I'm falling more and more in love with him each day.

18 years old.

It's the day of becketts draft. My hands are shaking as I sit next to his mom. I couldn't be more proud of him, all of the hard work and dedication he's put in to get to this point, I could be more proud. As much as I am proud of him, I can't help but feel waves of nervousness and selfishness flow through my body.

Where will Beckett be drafted at, how far will he be from his friends, family and me? What team will he go to, what number will he pick? All those thoughts are flowing through my head as I sit silently next to his mom, who's talking to his father.

I see Beckett lean forward to get my attention, matching his movements I lean forward looking at him.

“Are you okay?” he mouths to me

I send him a quick smile and thumbs up before settling back into my seat, just as I do the lights start to dim, signaling that the draft is starting. Taking a deep breath before directing my attention to the stage, it's now or nothing.

Beckett was projected to be the 10th or 12th draft pick, so hearing his name being called as the 3rd overall draft pick from the Anaheim Ducks sounded like a fever dream to everyone in the crowd, especially beckett. Who rises from his seat, with a shocked look on his face. His jaw dropped as he turned to his dad, who pulled him into a hug. Making his way down the aisle to his mom, doing the same with her.

My hands are shaking as I stand up, I can't help but start to cry, as Beckett wraps his arms around me, pulling me into the tightest hug ever. pulling back quickly before I even have a chance to speak, he's making his way down the aisle towards the stage. His mom brings me into her arms as we lean into each other crying at the sight of our boy walking across the stage.

I didn't see Beckett for the rest of the draft, he seemed to be whisked away by reporters and the media for pictures or questions. At the end of the draft, his family and I are led into the back of the arena into a room, with ducks reporters, and right in the middle of the crowd stands beckett. Dressed in a ducks jersey and hat, stands the smiling boy.

As soon as he sees his parents, he makes a beeline straight towards them, pulling them back into tight hugs as they whisper sweet things to him. I stand back witnessing the sweet moment between him and his family, with a smile on my face. Pulling away from his mom, his eyes catch mine, making his way towards me, pulling me off my feet into a hug.

“ im so proud of you” i say to him as he settles me back on my feet

“I can't believe this, this is so crazy” he says

“I know, i'm so so proud of you my little duck” i say tugging on his new found jersey

“I couldn't have done it without my best girl” he says looking down at me, our eyes locked together with so much force and love?

Before I even know what's happening, becketts face is moving closer and closer to mine, and before I know it his lips are meeting mine in a sweet kiss. My hands grab his face, pulling myself into his lips. A smile spreads across his face when he pulls away, my hands still resting on his face, as I look at him in shock.

“I've wanted to do that since I was 12 years old, I don't know what took me so long,” he says to me.

“But what I do know” he continues “is that i never want to go another year or day or week without it” before connecting our lips back together once again.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #beckett sennecke #anahiem ducks

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vagabond-umlaut · 4 months

Text

tempest in a teapot

gojo finds nothing more delightful than seeing your annoyed frown in the middle of a storm— why should he need the sun to break through the gloomy clouds, when you're right there in front of him, huh?

teen!gojo x fem!reader; fluffy & not-very-lwk sappy [xDD]; lovesick gojo; realisation of feelings; gojo loves you— you're compelled to tolerate him; he is sort of... obsessed w you but not in the toxic way yet; implied bullying [gojo isn't involved!!]; he wants to be your knight in shining armour sooo baddd; 'one-sided enemies to lovers'; 2.5k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna!

header frm pinterest // divider by @/isisjupiter // jjk isn't mine

gojo believes, there exist two kinds of people.

one, those who aren't but love to pretend being better than everyone else— and two, those who aren't but will do anything to be viewed as the worst in the world— the second category housing no one except you—

tingles dancing behind his ribs, down his arms and right to the tips of his fingers, the boy hums when asked why he wishes to meet you out of all the people he could. that too now, the sky darkening from a mix of night and storm— that too, to meet you.

candy crushed between molars, gojo grins.

"let's just say i'm a little curious about her, shall we?"

then pauses, grin mellowing when he finally feels your cursed energy— if his six eyes were working just fine and not fatigued after today's spree of killing curses, maybe he could have known your location too in an instant or so... and not have had to rely on others for that...

the blinding beacon that your cursed signature is, brushes soothingly against his exhausted self— he adds, "also maybe 'cause i'm a little in love with her— she's really sweet, y'know?"

whatever response he might have been expecting, a scoff is definitely not one of them.

utahime makes a face. almost as if she just bit into a lemon... almost as if she doesn't believe gojo can fall in love... almost as if she deems you to be not sweet... that last implication nearly makes him want to throw hands with the girl, opting to ignore the fact that she's shoko's girlfriend—

but he stops when she jabs a thumb to the corridor to the left.

your cursed energy caresses his six eyes gently. something burns at the back of his two eyes. he begs his mind to listen to the directions being given to him. the directions to you!!

"go down this hallway then turn right at the end. she will still be in the gardens—" the rest of the sentence doesn't reach gojo.

nor does anything else, for that matter.

nothing does. except for the steady thump!thump!thump! against his ribs and in his ears. and, of course— how did he even forget this— the lodestar your brilliance is to his too impatient self, too stumbling feet, this squally evening as he skids past empty hallways...

your smile is the first thing the boy notices.

so sweet. so sweet. it is the sweetest thing gojo reckons to have ever seen in his life. the pretty little smile carving your lips and illuminating your equally lovely face, as you lie on your stomach on the grass. legs swaying with the wind. gaze dancing over the fluttering pages—

everything changes in a beat— or perhaps even less than that— with your eyes no longer on the book.

they are on him. drowning him. suffocating him. squeezing whatever infinitesimal life left in him after the past three days' missions. taking every bit of who he is, all for themselves to glare at so sweetly.

your pretty little smile falls into an adorable frown. "why are you here, senpai?"

"why am i here?" he echoes your query. your frown deepens. he grins, brushing his bangs away out of his view. "to see you, of course!! mind if i take a seat beside you?"

you do mind. gojo knows, yet doesn't find a fault in you minding him so— shutting your book, you don't waste an extra second to move to sit upright. nor to scoot away when the boy takes your absence of an answer as an invitation to plop down onto the grass.

your scowl stays unfazed, gojo watches, heart lurching and tumbling. falling onto his back, he shifts to lie on his side, an elbow propped up to support his head. and hums.

"why do you look so mad, sweet—"

"please don't call me by such terms," you cut him off, sharp and terse, "and please don't pretend you don't know why i'm mad— acting like a fool doesn't suit you."

"acting like a fool doesn't suit you either, darling," the boy replies, not borrowing even a moment to mull over his words. it's honestly so like playing with fire... arguing with you, that is. but he is nothing if not an extremely devoted lover of danger, so he will keep doing whatever he is doing now— plus, don't the two of you seem so 'married couple'-y right now, huh?

he continues— not disturbed, rather delighted by how your features tighten and stiffen. eyes narrowing a touch. lips pursed a pinch— he wonders if you know how much you're endearing yourself to him the longer you keep looking at him that way—

he allows his grin to simmer down to a sly twist of lips.

"but i'm not going to question that... your love for your family is pretty cool—" not really. gojo finds it boring at best, and stupid at worst. but since it's you... he tries to deem it as neither. "— so whatever amazing plan you've concocted: pretending to be weak, so you aren't sent to a mission, so you have a 100% chance of staying alive anddd your dear family doesn't have to get sad—"

"why are you here, senpai?"

obviously, to see you, silly!!

— is what gojo should say. is what gojo wants to say. but he finds his tongue numb and unmoving. rendered useless by the sight you, your cursed energy, both have become...

if you were a fire before, you're nothing less than a solar flare now.

and the boy loves it. his six eyes love it. the boy loves you—

your brows gather close. his stomach does a flip. your voice assumes an adorably serious tone. "you didn't come here to ask me out, again, did you, senpai?"

did he?

oh, gojo doesn't really know.

maybe he did... he does want to take you to his favourite restaurants. but maybe he didn't... seeing you has been the only thing on his mind ever since he was informed of his mission being in otsu, shiga.

only fifteen kilometres away from the kyoto jujutsu tech— you don't allow him to utter a single syllable in reply, however. gojo wonders if this is how all your future arguments will be like— he decides it's not that bad.

not when you lean a little towards him. gaze narrowed. tone earnest.

"look— i know keeping another's secrets is a big deal, and some folks need some sort of... uh, reward for that— but how about this? instead of me going out on a date with you, why don't i buy you a box of them gourmet chocolates? or, a ticket to your favorite band's concert? or, a gift voucher of your favorite clothing store— this is better, isn't it?"

better... it would have been... if only he was dead set on making you reward him, as you oh so eloquently put it, for keeping your secrets.

but the thing is, he isn't. the boy doesn't want any sort of silly reward from you— he just wants to take you out on a date. always has, since his eyes met yours few weeks ago and he felt something strange and sweet unfurl within his chest—

making it seem like a payment for him shutting his mouth about you, was only a tactic. a very cheap tactic, the boy chides himself, looking at the worry etched into the dip of your lips.

slipping his shades off, he sits up. and offers a tiny smile. it feels... too weird... too soft on his lips.

"you do know who you're talking to, don't you?"

it takes you a while to reply. throwing back a question of your own. "is this you telling me i can't buy a rich guy's silence, senpai?"

he is. he very much is. but heaven knows why you make it sound this rude— the same as before, you don't stop speaking. not allowing him squeeze a single word in.

"but everyone likes free stuff, don't they? i mean, i'll be buying all that for you, and you won't have to spend even a single yen..." you heave a sigh. so minute, he almost misses it. but he doesn't 'cause he's pretty much focused his every sense on you—

exhaling yet another sigh, you ask, "don't you like freebies, senpai?"

he does. he very much does. even more when you say it that way with your cute little frown and exasperated little tone—

"you're too sweet, y'know?" he breathes out, hoping he sounds just as fond as he feels of you now. extremely likely, forever. "i don't really get why utahime doesn't see you to be so."

you make some sort of a noise then.

it isn't exactly a chuckle... nor is it a snort... it's very cute, nonetheless.

you hum, "iori-senpai is the kindest out of everyone here. if she thinks i'm not someone sweet... i don't know but doesn't it ring some sort of warning bell inside your head, hm?"

"hell no," gojo mutters in that same instant— a little miffed at how you refer to utahime, a quiet respect lacing every letter you say— not-too-little miffed at the implications behind you calling that sharp-tongued girl the kindest here—

for the first time in your company, the boy feels his lips collapse into a frown.

it's something, he realises you realise too, the way your lips part a tad. in something akin surprise... but not the very pleased kind.

he doesn't really think before adding, "the only bells i can hear when i look at you are—" you frown. he bites his tongue. perhaps... he should think a bit before speaking...

chuckling, he continues as if you did not just shoot his soul a look.

"never mind what i can hear... but the thing is you can never be one who rings warning bells in others' minds— like, hell no!" he repeats. letting some force seep into his syllables. into his unwavering stare, fixed on you. on every minute expression you're making—

he really decides to think, however. softening himself on noting your shaky exhale. your nails digging into the cover of your book— he lets himself borrow a beat before resuming.

forcing his face into a bright grin when he does so.

"feel free to text me the names of those dipshits who have ever made you feel bad, by the way— but don't worry," he adds, the memories of his previous error of ways hitting him in the face.

"i won't ask you out on a date in return for that— i'm just in need of an intensive punching practice, and you will do me a big favour by doing as i asked you to— you will text me, won't ya?"

yeah. no. thank you. fuck you—

you say nothing.

nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

for a very painfully long ten seconds.

during which you do nothing except look at him— just look, that too! neither glare nor gape nor gawk— just a quiet, scarily quiet looking— gojo swears his heart skips a beat when you finally open your mouth.

and inquire, words so slow and soft.

"this isn't some ploy of yours to get my number, right?"

"hey, no—" he rushes to explain. fuming at himself 'cause how the hell did he fuck up this bad again!?!?— but as is the norm, you don't allow him to speak any more than that. cutting him off with yet another one of your queries— except this time, it's not so slow.

and more of a statement than a question, now that he thinks about it— "you did not really tell anyone about my secret in these past weeks, did you?"

no, he didn't. obviously, he didn't.

gojo satoru might be several things, but an intentional villain isn't one of them... something skids across your face when the boy tells you as much— but he finds himself not too sure.

thanks to the lightning streaking across the sky.

and the torrential rains following not an instant late.

and the way your gaze jumps from him to the sky, to the book in your hold— only to come back to his face. wide, unblinking, all-consuming for a scanty moment there—

gojo tries his best not to collapse into the mud when you break into a sprint for cover from the downpour. he tries his best not to follow you as he feels your warmth go farther and farther away. his six eyes gaze at the trail of your addictively bright and hot— and his six eyes aren't talking about just the temperature— cursed energy—

the boy tries his damnedest best not to shout, overwhelmingly happy and relieved as he realises the rapidly reducing distance between him and your cursed signature.

the thud of your sneakers on the cement floor of the building sounds nothing less than the best music the boy's ever heard. or maybe, it is the best music in this whole wide world...

yet another lightning streaks across the sky. he twists himself around just in time to catch the awe-filled look you offer at the sight. features something out of this realm as your eyes trace its path, not even a bit bothered by the deafening thunder that sounds next—

gojo thinks he'll die happy if he dies now.

or maybe he can die later, he changes his stance quickly. on noticing you dash towards him through the mud, face fixed in a deep scowl as you struggle to open an umbrella, and balance a pretty heavy-looking bag off your forearm.

you huff when you reach him.

the boy wonders if it's your finally-open umbrella, or you, who shields him from the numbing cold of the torrential rains—

crouching down before him, you drop the bag into his lap.

and exhale a quiet sigh. his breath catches in his chest when he spies a hint of something... maybe fondness? curling up the corners of your frown, as you speak.

"next time you wanna flirt with someone, try not to do that after your missions— it is very difficult to be mad at a person if they look just a push away from passing out, y'know?"

[no... gojo doesn't really know.

but as he lets you press the handle of the umbrella into his palm— an odd look flittering over your features before you turn on your heel and hurry back into the school building— and his eyes fall on the contents of the bag you've left with him—

cans of green tea. chamomile tea. dark chocolate. biscuits. water—

the boy muses if this is your attempt to buy his silence. by giving him enough food and drinks to prevent him from blacking out from sheer exhaustion while on the train ride back to tokyo...

oh. it's enough for him to not worry 'bout tonight's dinner as well, he tells himself on finding two cups of instant noodles at the bottom of the bag—

gojo smiles.

deciding not only his silence to be yours, but also a part of his heart— albeit... weren't either of them yours to begin with, huh?]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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