#re-watch inspired me to make gifs

[hand-picked-star]

Mr. & Mrs. Raizada

[mattscoquette]

you gaped at the brown haired boy beneath you, watching his scrunched up face and fucked out expression as you bounced up and down on his cock.

what started as an innocent tutoring get together with the quiet boy from your math class has now turned into him laying out on your bed naked, grasping at the sheets with you riding him into oblivion as he became a whimpering mess beneath you.

"matt baby you feel so good," you moaned out, reaching down to grab his hand and place it over your tit. the boy whined in response, groping and squeezing at the flesh on your chest. you leaned back, placing your hands on his knees as you began to grind down on his dick, "am i making you feel good too?" you pouted.

"yes" the boy breathed, his once pale cheeks now a deep red as you continuously fucked yourself on him. he nervously played with your tits, wanting more from you but being too scared to ask.

"can i- fuck- can you," matt blabbered incoherently, trying his best to form a sentence.

"you want my boobs, sweet boy?" you asked with an innocent facade, slowing your pace slightly because you knew how close matt was due to the high pitched whines leaving his mouth.

he moaned loudly and nodded his head yes, pulling you down into him so his face was now met with your chest. he began sucking at your tits, his glasses becoming fogged up due to the body heat you two were emitting. he took your hardened nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud as you changed your rhythm and began to rock your hips back and forth against matt.

he whimpered as you began moving your hips in slow circles while his face was still smushed into your chest, the plastic frames digging into you. you moved up, breaking the contact between matt's mouth and your nipple, pushing the boys glasses up on his forehead. sure, matt was attractive, but he always had a sweet and innocent demeanor, but without the glasses he was hot.

"who knew little innocent matty would be this much of a slut?" you asked, meeting his lips in a messy kiss while he whined into your mouth. the two of you hastily made out, matt moving his hands up underneath the skirt you were wearing to squeeze your ass. "you getting close baby?"

"yes," he whispered, his voice gone from how vocal he was being, while his hips lazily and sloppily bucked up to meet yours.

"do you think you've been a good boy for me?" you taunted, holding him at the edge of his release.

"yes please, i've been so good" he cried, his jaw slack as you bounced even harder on his dick. you sat up more, moving up and down and grinding your hips all at once, running your hands down matt's chest.

"go ahead pretty boy, come inside me" you moaned, not slowing your pace once as matt bucked his hips into you, whining loudly as he released he load into you. you continued to fuck the boy through his orgasm, cumming soon after him, rocking your hips back and forth as you both slowed the pace of your movements coming down from your high.

you pulled yourself off of the boy, laying down next to him as you watched him regain his breath, his face still red. you re positioned yourself to bring your arm up, pulling his foggy lenses back down over his eyes.

"back to math now?" you joked.

© mattscoquette

slightly inspired from this post by @mattssluttywaist

[cindol]

Hm.. masc!mikasa and her pink gf.

Mikasa Ackerman x black fem reader

tagging: @liuhko @hoesluvshanti

tw: modern au, written in the hc format, fluff, small suggestive-ness, y/n is a lil dumb,

a/n: I’ve had this in my drafts since May yall …. 😭 I just re-wrote it up a bit . srry if it’s a bit short !!

masc!mikasa who’s a total babe magnet to pink fem girls a lot. Her roster and ex’s are mostly just feminine pinky pink girls so it’s a surprise to nobody when she shows her new girlfriend y/n off to her friend group.

masc!mikasa was the yin to her pink hello kitty girlfriend’s yang, they were polar opposites but definitely worked. Y/n could handle mikasa’s calm and collected attitude always speaking for her sometimes at restaurants while mikasa could handle y/n’s excited extrovert personality, knowing just the right way to calm her down and listen to her.

Mikasa loved whenever y/n would coming running to show her new hello kitty charmed nails while mikasa sat on their couch with her legs spread. She gave a warm smile just touching the one hand looking at the new nails and kissing her hand saying a simple,”love them baby.” Her small compliments had a way of just making y/n melt, no matter how small.

Another way she could calm y/n down also is just listening to her and her rants. When y/n was pent up and just angry she’d listen and give her small opinions on it.

masc!mikasa matched y/n’s style perfectly also, she was the masc to y/n’s fem style. While mikasa wore nike socks and slides, tank tops with shorts and her hair tied up occasionally y/n always was wearing some pink mini skirt, a pink cami top or anything hello kitty inspired to match.

masc!mikasa loved to feed into her girlfriends pda especially with the funny cute TikTok’s she’d do with her. Letting y/n give her pink lipstick kisses all on her face and neck while she had her legs spread then the camera turning to y/n with a lipstick tube in her hand applying more lipstick.

masc!mikasa never makes y/n feel that she’s too clingy, even when she comes to mikasa asking. Mikasa just scoffs at what she says.”bullshit, don’t know what idiot made you feel like that but you’re never clingy. You’re just a lover girl baby.” That warms y/n’s heart.

masc!mikasa gets protective when she has y/n around certain men. She knows how some men can be perverted weirdos, especially when it came to sapphic women. She always made sure to watch them when they tried taking a peak under her skirt.

masc!mikasa likes teaching her girl self defense. Mikasa was proud in her ability to protect y/n but what would happen if she was never around? She feared for when y/n got in the hospital somehow or mugged so she was teaching her self defense.

“Cmon baby be serious, what if I was some burglar trying to mug you?” It just made y/n giggle at her girlfriend with a cheap mask on trying to steal the small purse she was holding.”if you were some burglar trying to mug me in a alleyway I’d just kiss ya to let me go baby!” She joked making mikasa just give into her antics and tackle her.

if y/n and masc!mikasa had an argument it wouldn’t last long. Y/n’s a huge crybaby, if mikasa even had a slightly mad tone she would get sad. Mikasa may not show it but she was exactly the same, as soon as y/n seemed hurt by her actions she was immediately trying to cheer her up or show how sorry she is.

masc!mikasa is the one who made y/n realize how toxic her family is in the first place and actually drop them. When y/n vented to her about her mother’s homophobia mikasa just had a sympathetic look.”you don’t deserve that baby, nobody deserves that.” She rubbed a hand on her arm to comfort her more.”if anything, my family will always be here when yours can’t. Levi always considers you family anyways”

[babydollmarauders]

OHMAMI — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which Quinn fucks his girlfriend in the backseat of his new car

warnings: NSFW!!, p in v (unprotected), semi-public sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), light choking, praise, dirty talk, dom!quinn, lots of use of the pet name “baby”, slight religious reference (?), pls let me know if i’m missing any.

notes: inspired by OHMAMI by Chase Atlantic (feat. Maggie Lindemann). 4.6k words.

IMPORTANT: please look up Ferrari GTC4Lusso T interior if you need a better understanding of the car layout

“you’re sure about this?” i mindlessly wander the office of the luxury dealership, my fingertips running over any surface they can touch.

“why wouldn’t i be?” Quinn peers up at me from his spot in a chair, his iphone in his hands, mid-texting his younger brother.

“i don’t know, Q. it’s just a lot of money is all.” shrugging, i shuffle my feet back over to my boyfriend, where i let my hands rest on his shoulders as i stand behind him.

Quinn lets out a chuckle, pulling one of my hands in his and raising it to his lips to press a gentle kiss against my knuckles.

“i appreciate the financial concern, baby, but i think i’ll be okay.”

i sigh, moving around to sit on his lap. “okay.”

his arm spindles around my waist as he draws me back, my back flat against his chest. my fingers unconsciously draw shapes on his forearm, near the crook of his elbow, as he continues texting Jack about the big purchase he’s about to make.

i eye his phone, watching the blue and gray bubbles pop up back and forth and hoping we’ll be done here soon.

two hours of looking at cars, Quinn asking a multitude of questions to the salesman; half an hour of paperwork, and another half hour of waiting for said salesman to run Quinn’s name through the system, checking his credit score and whatever various other things needed to buy such a high-end car. i’ve been stuck at this dealership for three hours now, unplanned, as Quinn had pulled into the establishment after our spur-of-the-moment 3pm lunch date, claiming he just wanted to take a quick look at a couple of cars.

“Quinny,” i breathe out, letting my head fall backwards on his shoulder while his hand starts mindlessly rubbing up and down my thigh. “how much longer will we have to be here?”

“i don’t know, baby. hopefully not too much longer.” he locks his phone, setting it on his thigh and using his now free hand to caress my cheek, simultaneously turning my head to look into my eyes.

“is my girl tired?” he coos at the sight of my fluttering eyelids, leaning in to brush his lips lightly over mine.

“mhm” i hum, burrowing my face in his neck. his hand moves as i do, now resting on the back of my head, holding it in its position.

it’s at this moment that the salesman decides to make his re-entrance. “alright! everything checks out, looks good!”

i immediately attempt to pry myself from my boyfriend, but he holds me in place, clearly not bothered by the new company.

“i knew it would!” Quinn smiles back at the man, putting on his usual charm.

“now all we need is that down payment and you’ll be driving out of here in your very own Ferrari!” the salesman, i haven’t bothered to learn his name, chimes. “do you have a credit card you can give me?”

“yep,” Quinn taps my butt, signaling for me to lift it so he can grab his wallet from his pocket. i do so and he unpockets his wallet before pulling me back down on his lap. “here you go.”

the man takes Quinn’s card, taking a seat at his desk and punching the information from the card before handing it back.

“alright,” he grabs a few papers from the printer behind him, stapling them together and scribbling in a few places before sliding them towards my boyfriend. “just sign here, and here.”

Quinn leans forward and his left arm tightens around my waist to keep me situated on his lap, taking the pen in his right hand and autographing his signature twice.

“congratulations!” the salesman grins, handing the new keys to Quinn and shaking his hand.

“thanks, man.” Quinn smiles crookedly, rising from the chair and bringing me up with him.

we follow behind the salesman, back out to the Ferrari that Quinn just bought; which is now parked next to Jack’s Range Rover, in which we drove here.

i take Jack’s keys from Quinn with a sigh. knowing i’m now responsible for getting such an expensive car back to the lake house is a frightening task that i didn’t expect to be doing today, but one i’m now stuck with nonetheless.

“i’ll see you back at the house, yeah?” Quinn smiles. his hand grips my waist, pulling my lower half into his as he lowers his lips onto mine in a breathless kiss.

“yeah, wish me luck. if i get even a scratch on this car, Jack will have my head on a stick.” i gnaw at my lower lip in anxiety, but his free hand comes up to my chin, his thumb pulling my lip free from my teeth.

“nah, he loves you too much. he’d have my head on a stick.” he laughs, before lightly nudging me back towards the car.

“that’s even worse!” i tease. “how am i supposed to explain to the Canucks that their star defenseman is dead because i scratched his brothers car?”

“eh, you’re smart,” he winks, rounding the Ferrari. “you’ll think of something.”

we climb into the respective cars, and Quinn is gracious enough to wait while i adjust the seat to my height before he begins leading the way to the lake house.

the drive is smooth, and when we arrive at the house, Quinn opens my door as i return the seat adjustments back to the way Jack had them.

“see?” he grins, leaning over my body to unbuckle my seatbelt for me. “the car is all good.”

“it better be. that car is my baby.” Jack pipes up from behind him, making Quinn roll his eyes. “if anything were to happen-”

“yeah, yeah.” he cuts him off. “if anything were to happen to it, you would’ve killed her.”

i feign a gasp, jokingly smacking his arm.

“you said he would kill you.” i say in mock shock.

Quinn shrugs. “i was trying to calm your nerves.”

i playfully push him away, hopping out of the car to face Jack, who’s now too busy ogling the Ferrari to pay any attention to his own vehicle.

“i’m gonna go see if your mom needs any help with dinner.” i announce, already stepping towards the house. “have fun showing off your new toy, babe!”

i pass by a horde of guys on my way into the house, bumping hips with Cole, who ends up giggling.

“going to see the new thing?” i ask, and Trevor stops dead in his tracks.

“that thing is a 2022 Ferrari GTC4Lusso.” Trevor explains, as if i understand a single thing he’s just said.

“sure. whatever it is, it cost a lot.” i shrug, carrying on into the house. “enjoy.”

i join Ellen in the kitchen, making myself busy by tossing together the salad ingredients she has on the counter.

we make small talk as we cook, letting the men have their fun gawking at the new car, and enjoying the silence that comes with it.

“do you wanna go tell them dinner is ready?” she more so tells me to do, and i fake a pout.

“do i have to? it’s so peaceful. we could easily just slip out back and eat dinner by the lake without them ever even noticing.” i wiggle my eyebrows enticingly and she laughs, shooing me off towards the front door.

“i had to try.” i giggle out, opening the front door to the gaggle of men. “boys! dinner’s ready!”

they all make their way up the porch and i stand idly by, waiting for my own man to enter the house. finally, he appears at the very back of the group, smirking as he wraps an arm around my waist, walking me to the dining room.

“i was thinking after dinner, you and i could go for a drive. just us.” he pecks a kiss to my cheek as we sit at the table, and i nod.

“sure, sounds nice.” his hand rests on my thigh now, partly covered by my sundress, and i squirm a little at his touch on my bare skin.

it’s been at least three weeks since Quinn and i have been able to do anything past PG-13, him not wanting to risk it while his parents are here, and i’m starting to feel restless.

the smallest touches from him have been causing me to get slick with need, and i squeeze my thighs together to provide myself some friction, but it never helps. like now.

i know Quinn has caught on because his grip tightens just the slightest bit, his thumb beginning to stroke my skin.

“you okay, baby?” he’s teasing me, asking his question in such a sweet tone that anyone else at the dinner table would think he’s just checking in on his girlfriend, but he and i know that isn’t the case.

“mhm” i hum, attempting to ignore his touch as i fill my plate and his.

“now y/n, Quinn is a grown man with two hands; he can make his own plate, honey.” Ellen jests, poking a dig at her eldest son.

“acts of service is her love language, ma.” Quinn pokes back before pressing another chaste kiss to my cheek, muttering his thank you as we begin to eat.

the table is filled with a generous amount of chatting as we eat; Jack telling a story about something that happened in Jersey, Luke telling everyone about how Luca Fantilli got his head stuck in stair banisters… twice, Trevor going on a long-winded rant about a missed goal; but Quinn and i are mostly silent. Quinn because he’s just almost been more of the listen rather than talk type, and me because i don’t trust my voice while my boyfriend is currently inching his hand up the bottom of my dress.

someone seems to catch onto my lack of interest though, because Alex eyes me curiously from his spot in front of me, and then chooses to speak up.

“you’re quiet tonight, y/n.” his statement draws the attention of the rest of the group, their eyes gravitating towards me.

“just tired.” i fib, my voice tight as Quinn’s hand slowly slides towards my inner thigh, now just far enough away that if he spreads his fingers, his pinky will graze against my wet panties. “who knew three hours at a car dealership could be so draining.”

Cole laughs, obviously buying my lie, which causes the rest of the table to chuckle.

“oh yeah, honey. buying a car will do that.” Ellen sympathizes. “the long process sucks the life right out of you.”

the chatter carries on around me and i return to my silence. dinner has long since been finished, and Luke proposes making s’mores for dessert, so Quinn takes that as our chance to escape.

“you guys go ahead,” he starts. his warm touch disappears from my skin as he rises from his chair. “y/n and i are gonna go for a drive. i wanna show her why this purchase was worth it.”

he holds his hand out for mine and i falter, looking between Ellen and him.

“i usually help your mom with the dishes.” i remind him, gesturing towards the table full of plates.

“oh don’t worry about it,” Ellen chimes. “Jack can help me.”

“i- what?” Jack sputters, finally looking away from the phone screen he’s been engrossed in for the past few minutes. “what about me? i was checking the Yankees score.”

Quinn rolls his eyes at his younger brother, shaking his head as he grasps my hand, pulling me up from my seat and leading me through the house.

“we’ll be back in a little bit!” he calls out as we exit through the front door.

climbing into the car, i can feel the excitement radiating off of him.

“okay, i know i’m not a car person, but what is a drive in it supposed to show me?” i ask as he starts the engine. his hand gravitates to the back of my headrest as he reverses out of the driveway, his eyes flicking between the backup camera and the back window of the car.

it should be illegal to be this hot while reversing a car.

fuck, y/n. focus.

“you’ll understand once you ride it.”

i scan his body, my eyes lingering in one specific place.

i can think of something i’d like to ride.

shit, y/n. think with your brain, not your hormones.

“okay.” i drag out, leaning back in the seat and relaxing as he drives down the street.

the car is quiet besides the soft hum of the radio, tuned into a random pop hits station that i know Quinn turned on just for me.

his left hand sits on the steering wheel, while his right reaches over to lay upon my thigh, causing my thoughts to run wild. fantasies and memories of us tangled in the sheets, his hand on my throat as he hovers above me, or better yet; his hand in between my legs, his fingers working me toward my orgasm.

i can feel my skin get red and hot, as i imagine all the ways i would be with him if we weren’t stuck in a house full of people.

… but we’re not there now.

Quinn exits onto the highway, the car speeding up as he does so, and i glance toward the back seat.

it’s small, but we could make it work.

my hand snakes up to sit on top of his and his eyes flicker towards me, a soft smile resting on his lips at the sweet gesture. and i let him believe that for a few minutes before i’m pulling his hand up my thigh, closer towards my soaking core.

“baby-” he breathes out, his words failing him when he finally feels how wet i am.

“we’re all alone.” i state, my head lolling back against the seat as his fingers start stroking me through my panties like they have a mind of their own.

“baby, i’m driving.” his voice is strained, a vein popping out on his neck as he clenches his jaw.

my hand leaves his, instead reaching over to palm him through his jeans, in which his left hand leaves the wheel to lightly swat mine away.

“i can’t drive if you do that.”

i huff but it blends into a moan as his thumb begins to circle my clit.

“so, pull over.” i suggest, ready for something more.

he’s hesitant, i can tell, so i pull out the secret weapon.

“please, daddy.” i whimper, reaching over to palm his now hard cock once more.

“fuck.” he curses, switching lanes to get off on the next exit.

he quickly finds a mostly abandoned lookout, only one other car parked on the other side of the lot, and switches into park.

his eyes are cloudy with need as he turns to look at me, his fingers still working themselves on my bundle of nerves. my breaths come out in heavy pants that mingle with moans.

“faster.” i plead, but rather than obeying my lust-hazed command, he pulls his hand away completely. i mewl at the loss of touch, but his hand winds up to the base of my neck, his grasp just light enough to remind me who’s in charge, but not tight enough to do any harm to my air supply.

“you don’t call the shots here, darling.” he whispers before pulling me by his grip into a bruising kiss.

his tongue brushes against mine and his teeth bite down on my lower lip, making me whimper. when he pulls away, i can just barely make out his features within the darkness of the Ferrari.

“get in the back.” he orders and i scramble to unbuckle my seatbelt, climbing over the center console and into the divided backseat.

rather than joining me by climbing back, Quinn exits the car, rounding the front and opening the passenger side door. he pulls the passenger seat forward, climbing in on his knees and shutting the door, the seat still pulled as far forward as it’ll go.

his arms hook around my legs, pulling me forward so that i’m slumped in the seat, my ass sitting on the edge. he looks up at me with dark eyes, placing my legs over his shoulders as he leans forward.

his hands glide up my legs, bunching my sundress up to my waist. his tongue licks a stripe over my clothed cunt and i shudder, my left hand attempting to grip at the leather of the backseat center console, as my right finds itself tangled in his hair.

he pulls away, despite my attempts to hold him in place, and his fingertips play with the waistband of my lacy yellow panties.

“beg me.” he insists, teasing me by hooking his fingers in the sides of my underwear, but not making any further moves.

“please, Quinn.” i plead, and he pulls one side away from my skin then lets it snap back into place, causing me to jolt.

“uh-uh.” he shakes his head, backing away just slightly.

“please, daddy, please.” i cry out, attempting to pull him in again. “i’ll be good, i promise.”

“yeah?” Quinn taunts, slowly pulling my panties down my legs as i lift myself just barely from the seat. he knocks my legs from his shoulders, pulling the under garment off and throwing it in the front seat.

“mhm.” i nod my head wildly, my brows raising as i do so. “i’ll be so good. just please, please, do something.”

Quinn wastes no more time, pushing one of my legs up to hook over the backseat center console as the other hooks over his shoulder. he dives down, licking up my heat like a man starved.

his tongue circles my clit and my head drops back, but he provides a swift smack to my thigh to remind me to look at him. one of his rules.

i bite my lip to try and muffle my cries of pleasure, his hand rising to pull the top of my dress down just enough for my breasts to pop out. he grips one, harshly squeezing before he pinches at my nipple.

my jaw drops open, a breathy moan escaping my lips as my back attempts to arch in the small space.

“fuck!” i cry out, tugging at his hair. “yes, daddy!”

he shifts between sucking on clit to licking in my cunt, fucking me with his tongue. my hips stutter and he holds my leg open as it tries to unhook itself from the console in order to close on his head.

i tug again at his hair, pushing his head further into me, and he moans, the vibrations flowing straight into my core. i cry out again, the familiar knot in my stomach slowly building the longer he continues.

“please!” i whine. “please, make me come!”

Quinn’s dips down to show more love to my pussy, and his nose brushes against my clit, my hips immediately beginning to grind against him. my legs begin to shake and i can feel myself getting closer and closer to release.

“right there! don’t stop!”

i’m sure anyone outside the car can probably hear my screams, but it doesn’t deter me. too busy chasing my high to care what anyone else may think.

of course, Quinn doesn’t listen, knowing my body well enough to know exactly what will set me off. his lips close around my clit, sucking and flicking his tongue, and it only takes a few moments for me to reach the edge.

“i’m gonna come! fuck, i’m gonna come!” i warn him but he only pushes deeper, flicking his tongue faster against the button of nerves, and i let out a guttural moan as i finally let go, coming on his face. he laps at my release, riding me through my orgasm, only stopping once i begin to twitch at the feeling.

“now you see why i won’t do anything at the house?” he teases, smirking as he wipes at the juices on his chin with the back of his hoodie sleeve. “you’re so vocal. i love it, but i don’t want anyone else hearing your sounds. they’re just for me.”

my hand hook around the nape of his neck and i pull him up to my face, pressing my lips against his. he moans into the kiss and i can taste myself on his lips; slightly sweet, slightly salty, and it turns me on; pushing me towards another round.

i release him from my grasp, lightly shooing him backwards and fiddling with the button on his pants.

“i want you to fuck me.” i breathe out, pulling his zipper down.

“oh yeah?” his smirk grows, clearly not expecting any more than we just did.

“yes, please.” i nod, pulling his pants down, his erection popping free and slapping against his clothed torso. “please fuck me, daddy.”

i maneuver myself onto my knees, slowly bending myself over the center console, allowing my right leg to straighten some, my foot dropping down to the floor of the car as the other leg stays bent on the backseat; allowing him a full view of my glistening pussy.

“since you asked so nicely, baby.” Quinn joins me on the seat, knelt behind me at a slightly awkward angle as he pulls his pants down some more.

i bite back a giddy smile, waiting impatiently for him to fill me up, and i’m not disappointed when i look back to find him grasping his cock. he runs it through my folds a few times, lubing himself up with my release, and i arch my back to better accommodate him.

my eyes roll back, a moan bubbling up my throat as he pushes his tip into my entrance, thrusting in just slightly before pulling back and repeating.

“daddy, please.” i whine, still frustratingly horny and awaiting his full size.

it doesn’t take any more begging than that, Quinn suddenly bottoming out inside me.

“fuck, baby, you feel so good.” he groans, but i’m too busy choking out my own cries to reply.

he begins thrusting slowly, and i nearly let out a sob of relief at the feeling.

“whadd’ya think?” he asks, his voice strained as he thrusts into me, fucking my hips into the leather of the center console. “how does my cock feel, fucking your greedy little pussy?”

“so good!” i exclaim, pushing back against him. my eyes squeeze shut as his hand wraps around my throat, the other gripping my hip. “feels so good!”

“love watching your ass bounce off me as i fuck you like this.” he groans and his dirty talk succeeds in making me clench around him, causing him to moan.

i peek back to find his head thrown back, his jaw slack and his eyes firmly shut for a moment before he looks back down, making eye contact with me.

he leans forward, his front pressing against my back as he kisses my lips, nipping at my lips before he pulls back and continues fucking into me at a faster rhythm.

my head drops forward, my hair curtaining my face, and i let out a cry of pleasure as he begins rubbing my clit.

my back arches again, and i whimper when his hand leaves my throat in order to smooth down my spine, pushing my back down further.

“taking me so well.” he praises, thrusting harder than before, and i can feel the knot that had just come undone, tangling back together. “such a good girl for me.”

”only for you, daddy.” he continues his assault on my clit and the sensation mixed with the fullness of him pushing into me makes my legs begin to shake once more.

i can feel his dick pulsating, and his strokes become sloppier, assuring me that he’s close. i clench around him, my eyes rolling back and stars dancing in my vision.

“oh god, i’m coming!” i announce.

Quinn grips my hip tight, “god isn’t in this car, baby.”

my hips begin to falter in their movements, my body locking up and my breath catching in my throat as i come for the second time tonight.

my orgasm spurs on his; his hips stuttering and his breathing falling heavy, a grunt escaping his lips as he finishes inside of me.

his thrusts stop, the car falling silent except our heavy pants as we catch our breath. the windows are fogged, the scent of sex lingering around us.

Quinn pulls out of me and i slump against the center console, listening to him pull his pants back up. he pulls my sundress back down to cover my ass before he sits, gripping my hips and pulling me back and onto his lap, my back now pressed against the side of the car.

my head lolls sideways onto his shoulder, my eyes closed, and he chuckles, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. caressing my cheek, he pecks a soft kiss onto my nose and the corners of my lips twitch up in a smile.

“worth the wait?” he questions and my eyelids flutter open. i nod, craning my neck to kiss his cheek, and he smiles.

“my girl needs some sleep, huh?” he asks, and i nod again, but make no moves to get up. “let’s get you home.”

my limbs feel like jello as i climb out of the car, letting him out before i push the passenger seat back and sit back down, buckling up. Quinn rounds the car, climbing into the drivers side and starting the engine once more.

but before beginning to drive, he reaches down and pulls my panties out from under his thigh. laughing, he hands them back to me, and i giggle as i pull them back on.

the ride home is mostly quiet, my head resting against the cool glass window and our hands laced together, with his right one back in its place on the steering wheel.

“well,” i start as we pull into the driveway, my voice hoarse from my earlier cries. “we christened the car.”

Quinn lets out a hearty laugh, letting go of my hand to put the car in park and turn off the engine.

he jumps out of the car as i unbuckle, making his way around to my door and letting me out.

“what do you think the odds are that they’ll be asleep?” he grins as i pretend to ponder his question.

“your parents? one hundred percent. everyone else? maybe twenty percent.” i joke and he shrugs.

“i’ll take those odds.” we make our way up the porch and he unlocks the door, attempting to stay quiet in order to sneak past any stray boys still in the open space of the house.

but luck is officially not on our side as we open the front door to the living room full of his brothers and their friends on the couch playing video games.

Quinn quietly curses as heads turn to look at us, and Trevor is the first to put together our long drive and our disheveled appearances. he busts out in laughter, pointing between my boyfriend and i.

“oh you guys fucked.” he cackles, wheezing in amusement.

Jack and Luke’s noses scrunch for a moment before they too join in on the laughter, but luckily Alex and Cole just shake their heads at their friends.

“you guys are so immature.” Quinn scoffs, lacing his hand in mine as we head toward the stairs, up to our bedroom.

“in the new car, guys? seriously?” Jack calls out, and his older brother rolls his eyes, continuing up the stairs.

“goodnight!”

[aureatchi]

⋆ ☽˚｡ 𓂃 ࣪˖ AND THAT DAY THAT WE’LL WATCH THE DEATH OF THE SUN . . . ft. FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

⟢ PRÉCIS. restless at an hour far too late to be awake, you take a quest to the personal library lit only by warm-toned ambient lamps and candles. however, you are greeted by one who chastises you to rest, and despite his pretty face you remain stubborn. in turn, he takes up a mission on his own; one that he alone will always win: to coax you to sleep.

◞ OR fyodor knows time is limited. if only you realized this was his labyrintian way of saying au revoir for now.

ᡴꪫ a/n. it’s always his lap. been thinking about this scenario for awhile + re-inspired by the friends who played with my hair this week hehe. it makes me feel so sleepy. started to cope with ch113. :’) i hope this is decent ᡣ𐭩

ᡴꪫ info. fem!reader. fluff; sweetly suggestive in one part…and then hit with a train of angst; i warned u. soft fyodor. comfort/hurt ↻. religious imagery. it’s u trying to get him to sleep too. both poetic and shakespeare ramblings. bsd manga chapter 113 + s5 finale spoilers. russian may be incorrect. ﾉ wc. 3.1k+

“Is there anything you find more powerful than manipulation?” 

Seated on the armchair across from yours, the ravenette took a sip of tea from his mug before setting it down. A bantering parley had taken place in between you two, filled with giggles and smiles, but in a moment without thought, you had brought up a more serious topic. 

“Actually, yes,” he responded. 

“A woman’s intuition.” You didn’t miss how his gaze slightly lowered. “The woman’s gut feeling is superior. If a man were to try manipulating her, she would know. No matter how naïve she was, the body would give her a single signal that could unravel his entire disposition at the fingertips.” 

You discreetly smiled, looking down at the mug. You knew Fyodor was referring to his experience with you. At one point in time, he tried to finesse you in schemes of calamity. But in response, you ruined him—he would dare not admit out loud that you had forcefully taken whatever mess his heart was and sewed it back together with the strings of your own soul. You did so without ever realizing either. After so many years on this earth, even he did not know how to mend himself. 

Now, he could only look at you as being the single thing that didn’t go wrong in the wasteland of the world. The ravenette almost considered you not of the world—you were as divine as the angels, after all. Perhaps it was his excuse to add along another duty the Father had commissioned to him—Fyodor would assure your safety and happiness through the rest of time—even once he got his hands on that book. 

Because if not plans that surged through his mind, it was his most cherished memories of you. 

…

Even though the room wasn’t too hot and the bed wasn’t uncomfortable, you could not go to sleep. You had tried counting sheep in your head for hours, but you still ended up awake well past midnight and had enough sheep for dozens of herds. 

You turned over in annoyance before you finally sat up. You didn’t understand why you felt such unease—maybe you drank your coffee too late in the day. A bad decision at that. 

You tapped the other side of the bed for a final check. Empty. Fyodor was still up. You would visit him in the office later, but for now, you’d give him the privilege of being unbothered. You decided on another place to visit—somewhere that would calm you down so perhaps you could finally catch slumber. 

The personal library. 

It was the coziest place, especially during the late hours of the evening, where the lights were warm and dim, not too hard on the eyes. Where the shelves were packed with literature and knowledge permeated the room with its philosophy. Fyodor annotated everything—so most books were scribbled in almost illegible cursive Russian. You always told yourself if you didn’t start to learn his lingo, you would be locked away from the library’s secrets forever. 

You tiptoed down the hallway until you reached the door at the end. You were thinking of picking up one of William Shakespeare’s tragedies and reading until either you fell asleep or the sun rose. You prayed it wasn’t the latter—though restless, you were exhausted too. And you didn’t want to suffer the consequences the next day. 

However, you were surprised to see the door already narrowly open. The lights were on and the candles were lit, too—was Fyodor not in his office? He seldom worked anywhere else and would always go to you as soon as he finished. 

You peeked through the slight crack in the door. He was indeed there—your lover’s back turned towards you, capturing all his charming enigma. How the man carried himself with the poise and elegance of a white dove, despite starting wars among nations. His mouth spoke of divinity while he ravaged the harmony of life with his hands. It was fitting; Fyodor was a juxtaposition in himself—you knew this, and so did he. 

“You can come in.” A second of pure silence passed before you opened the door to step inside. Not even a single noise was made, and yet, he recognized your presence. 

Almost shyly, you shuffled towards him. You did not plan for Fyodor to catch you—you were still in between deciding whether going inside was worth his lecture. 

Because although the handsome workaholic stayed up until absurd hours of the night, he did not want you following his ways. 

You circled the lounging area until you were in front of him, who closed the journal he was writing in. 

“Lyubov, why are you still awake?” he asked. 

Usually, you only stayed up out of anticipation in waiting for his return—whether from a mission or just to the bed. You were so stubborn that Fyodor would actually halt his work for a few days after being gone for awhile to sleep with you so that he was sure you were resting properly.

It was different this time. He had been home for the whole month, and despite being in his office for the majority of this week, you didn’t have any problem with going to bed without him until now. 

You shrugged with a quiet, “I’m not sure.” You eyed the unfamiliar journal. “Are you still working?” 

“Sort of,” Fyodor replied. “Would you like some chamomile tea? That will help.” 

You shook your head. “What do you mean ‘sort of?’ Last time I checked, you were either working or not.” 

“It’s not any more important than addressing the current problem at hand,” he calmly dejected the topic, leaving you confused. 

“What’s the current problem?” 

“You’re awake. You shouldn’t be at this hour.” 

“Well, now that I’ve found you here, I don’t think I can return to bed unless you come with me.” You dramatically yawned before stepping closer to him.

“Let’s go sleep, Fedya.” You tried dragging him up by the arm, but he stayed sat on the armchair, much to your disdain. 

“I cannot, I’m not done yet,” Fyodor replied. As you froze, he took your hand in his and brought you to his lap. 

“However, you must sleep.” He let you shift so that you were comfortable. “You came here to read?” 

“Yeah,” you replied as he handed you a book. What a mind reader Fyodor was—you were presented with The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. It would be the perfect reread. 

“Why this play?” you tested. 

“The pile of books you never put back on the shelves over there shows you’ve been reading a lot of tragedies lately,” he nodded towards the stack of books you read this week. “I thought you’d probably be in the mood for one by none other than the master of catastrophe.

“Plus, it’s fitting for you, too,” he added, voice a bit lower as he fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“Hey!” You pouted, moving away from him, pretending you were insulted. Though you knew too that further proved his point. 

“Maybe we should act it out,” you joked as you scanned through the pages to find a poem you were familiar with. “Act two, scene two.” 

“Hamlet’s letter to Ophelia,” Fyodor recalled. 

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;

“doubt that the sun doth move; 

“doubt truth to be a liar; 

“but never doubt I love.” 

“Dlya neye, v iskrennosti,” you squinted, reading the little note by the quote you did not understand. The Russian laughed at your terrible pronunciation. 

“Some scholars say that Hamlet used his words toward Ophelia as a manipulation tactic,” he stated. “He had a larger strategy at hand, and he rarely mentioned her unless she was on stage, with the exception of her death. If he harbored such a profound love for her, would Shakespeare not make it more direct? What do you think?” 

You contemplated for a few seconds, eyes drifting amongst the shelves of books as you felt your lover behind you gently run his fingers through your hair. 

“I think Shakespeare didn’t give us clarity for a reason. I’d like to believe Hamlet did love Ophelia. The story does not revolve around romance, after all—it revolves around revenge. A man with ambitious plans would not have love at the forefront of his head. Or, he wouldn’t speak aloud about it, at the least. Perhaps he was more reserved about that aspect of his life, too—he could’ve been shy to speak about it in front of all aristocracy—like you, for example.”

You giggled with a shrug, expressing your last phrase as lighthearted, but you still earned a slight frown from him. It was amusing that the nationwide terrorist was timid in everything concerning his love life. 

“Obviously, it could be taken as manipulation, too,” you continued. “But again, it’s not stated upfront for a reason. Shakespeare mirrors the complexities of a person in real life. You never quite know the truth of other people, no matter how much you think you know them.” 

Fyodor nodded, satisfied with your interpretation. “I wholly agree. It is why Shakespeare is enticing to many—he creates characters that simulate life’s universal themes and relatable human emotions when reacting to those situations. I only disagree with one point you made.” 

“Which one? You being shy?” you asked. He shook his head with a smile. 

“Perhaps I will reward you with that knowledge if you sleep.” He chuckled when you groaned in disappointment. 

“How about you just do your work while I read? Then, when you finish, we can leave together.” 

“If it were that easy. You’re a distraction, milaya.” 

You rolled your eyes. “No, I promise! I originally came here to read anyway—I won’t distract you this time.” You moved to one side of Fyodor’s lap so he would have space to do what he wanted. 

He did not answer you, instead making a quiet “tsk” when his fingers caught on a tangle in your hair. Fyodor worked to gently separate the knot. The terrorist was a perfectionist, but the mindset further stemmed past reaching twisted goals to create a world without flaws. Three spoons of jam in his tea, faint scratches on a deck of cards, and ensuring he had the satisfaction of reaching the ends of your hair with his fingertips were a few details he keenly paid mind to. 

You took his silence as a comply, and started to play out the tragedy of the Danish prince in your head while your lover brushed through your locks. Eventually, he picked his journal back up and continued to write information you paid no mind to.

…

You did not know how much time passed before you felt your eyes grow heavy. The faint ticks of the clock on the wall combined with the warm candlelight’s glow drew you to slumber. You closed Hamlet and shifted positions until you ended up straddling Fyodor. You buried your face in the crook of his neck until you could see nothing but dark. 

“Sonnyy?” 

He started stroking his fingers through your hair again, relaxing you even more. 

“Lublu tebya, kak angel boga, kak roso lyubit solovey. S toboy vremya ostanavlivaetsya, yi ya zhivu lish mgnoveniam ryadom s toboy.” 

However, the sounds of seconds passing by and intimate lighting adorning the room could not compare to the persuasion of your lover’s voice in his mother tongue. Foreign words spilled from his lips as rich as velvet, as soothing as a lullaby. If his voice, in general could put you in a trance, here he harbored the garden serpent’s master of temptation itself. Even if you did not understand him. Worst of all, he knew this. You had fallen into his trap long ago.

“Ya boudou skucha—what are you doing?” 

You were drowsily planting kisses on his neck. You stopped once the room became silent and looked up, catching his half-lidded amethyst gaze. The conjurer’s expression was for once softened—or perhaps it had been the entire time you were with him. It was a gift only you were blessed with. 

You smiled, a tad smugness in your look, before sitting up and giving him a shy peck on his lips. 

For a few seconds, you were both frosted in that moment of time—his hands wrapped around your waist, massaging circles onto your skin under your shirt as you straddled his own, your eyes fixated on his almost surprised, slightly flustered violet stare. The candles illuminated the room in such a way that made you think it was really only you two who existed in the world—your two souls someplace faraway where nothing else mattered but the sounds of your heartbeats and what you would do next after his mouth slightly parted. You were the most beautiful thing Fyodor had laid eyes on, throughout eras of people. 

You kissed him for the first time that night, and the ravenette kissed you back. It escalated to become sloppy—you were both too exhausted to care whether your lips were on his or if they instead trailed down to trace his jawline as sharp as those of the greek gods. Or when you were back on your lover’s neck—however, this time almost sucking, mesmerized by how easily you could bruise him. You did not need to wear lipstick to create deep red marks on Fyodor’s pale skin. 

“I told you that you’d end up being a distraction.” 

You shivered at cold fingertips dancing across your lower abdomen, though they were still quite far from anywhere you wished. You winced when Fyodor bounced you up in order to fix your position, but it offered a different effect. 

“Careful,” he warned. “That spot is visible to others.” 

Being the leader of the Rats in the House of the Dead and member of organization Decay of Angels placed the Russian at a high status in the underground world. He always restricted the places you could leave visible traces of affection on him whenever he had a new operation in front of him—Fyodor was one to uphold modesty. 

You sighed softly before disconnecting your mouth from his neck, only to unbutton the top half of his shirt. 

Like his hands, the demon’s heart was cold. He bore at least some sense of insensitivity to death—he had to; granting silence was part of his duty. However, something about you ignited a fire in him out of nothing, out of no help amidst ice—you were not given a flame nor torch to aid you.

If he was the one to destroy the world to pay the price of ridding sin, you were the one who rebuilt creation from the ground and up. You were unfazed by the city ruins; you were unfazed by Fyodor Dostoevsky, the man most feared in the world. A duality: to them, his hands soaked in crimson blood, but to you, they clasped around yours in adoration.

And since he’d met you, his heart was filled with the foreign warmth of love. Accompanied were trust, vulnerability, and your sweet, honey-like kisses that you littered all over his broad shoulders and chest, because he deserved love everywhere. 

He whispered against your ear, promising he would indulge you more another day, when you weren’t so sleepy. When both he and the moon had a little more time in the sky, was what he didn’t say. At the same time, he took a free hand to slowly guide your eyes to close, hovering barely above your eyelashes. 

You complied, with no more complaints, as he kissed you on the forehead. 

…

As Fyodor carried you down the hallway to the bedroom bridal-style about half an hour later, you dozed into dazy consciousness once again. 

“You have…another mission, hm?” you whispered, recalling the preceding hints he had given you. 

“Yes,” he quietly replied, walking into the dark bedroom. He tucked you under the covers before getting in right beside you. 

“Truly, why were you in the library?” you asked, getting out your final curiosity before you fell back to dream. 

“I did have a ‘sort-of’ job,” Fyodor replied. “Taking care of you. I was aware you’d show up.”  

“Please stay safe, Fedya.”

…

You knew something was off with the thunderstorm that came several weeks later. A vampire apocalypse—however fictitious that sounded—was happening back in Japan, but Fyodor kept you overseas at where you two stayed before departing. 

You didn’t ever touch his plans, but your mind finally processed how every event leading up until now seemed so wrong. The month-long stay—Fyodor had never done that before. The week you decided to read tragedies—you felt one even worse than those acted out in the theatre was coming. That night you stayed up—your gut was already screaming that he was about to depart again. 

And how this time would be different than before. Your intuition had warned you, yet you still fell asleep and let him leave. You stood before the journal the conjurer made sure caught your eye that night. With shaky hands and heavy rain beating down on the windows, you flipped through the pages. Confusion and tears formed in your eyes at the vague implication of what was written. 

Do not worry yourself with the death of all things that are seen and unseen by you. It is not an end, but the start of all things that are left to do. 

Rodnaya, you asked what I did not agree with concerning your thoughts about Hamlet loving Ophelia. Have you ever considered a man having both love and ideals at the forefront of his mind? Isn’t love a dream itself? 

…

Fyodor swore this when he judged how all could go wrong in the next step of his plan. Prior to meeting you, the calculating, confident smirk he always had on his face was authentic, and he simply assumed he would never fall to a mistake. 

But now the plans were adjusted to work around you; the schemes all ended to benefit you, too. If he misjudged something, not only would it fail the perfect world God deemed it to be, but it would also affect you through and through. 

Perhaps that was why he only almost saw you as an angel no matter how much you resembled one—no, you were far more glorious than one. You were human—so human that instead of looking down at him from above, you came down onto tainted soil and blessed him with a piece of heaven. Real empathy that now made him think of you as he sat with a rod pierced through his torso in the escape helicopter, doomed to death. 

You truly did ruin him. 

…

“Is there anything you find more powerful than manipulation?” 

And Sigma wondered how such a man so immoral and cruel actually loved someone else. As he searched through the demon's memories, he realized he must go much further back in time to find any helpful information for the brunette ability-nullifier who assigned him. 

Because if it was not anything relating to his plans that showed up through his search, it was every memory of you.

translations: (please pardon me if they’re bad, :’) correct me if you are fluent and would like to!)

dlya neye, v iskrennost : for her, in sincerity

sonnyy : sleepy

lublu tebya, kak angel boga, kak roso lyubit solovey. : i love you like an angel loves God, like a nightingale loves a dew.

s toboy vremya ostanavlivaetsya, yi ya zhivu lish mgnoveniam ryadom s toboy. : with you, time stops, and i live only for moments next to you.

ya boudou skucha[t po tebe] : i will miss you.

i heard if you rb, fyodor will come back to life. :’) reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

someone should’ve warned me about hozier. only started listening to him last month and i…can’t stop.

© 2024 AUREATCHI. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + gradient line by benkeibear. animated line by benkeibear. manga header mine.

[rahuratna]

Thirst Trap

Genre: Fluff, humour, crack.

Characters: Nanami, Yuuji, Ino.

Summary: Ino and Yuuji unwittingly make Nanami IG-famous through a social media post. As the internet's thirst ramps up, Nanami remedies the situation by roping in the two young sorcerers once again.

CW: language.

"Now that's what I call ... "

"A good run!"

"Oh, hell yeah. You're not half bad, Itadori! Just stick close to me, and you'll learn plenty more!"

A warehouse stained with the remnants of dispatched cursed spirits, clothes rumpled and stained with the evidence of hard work and a new student brimming with the desire to prove himself. Now this was Ino's definition of a day well spent. The last, and most proudly worn feather in his cap was the fact that their successful team-up had been overseen by none other than Nanami Kento himself, the man who breathed inspiration into all of his endeavours as a sorcerer.

Speaking of which ...

"Hey, Nanami, what did you think of our work today?"

Striding along at a steady pace behind the two youngsters, the tall, ever-composed sorcerer looked up and adjusted his glasses.

"Hmm. You're both well-coordinated, considering that you've never been teamed up before. You've got good instinctual prediction of each other's movements and I'm quite certain that you may come up with even more effective techniques if you work together in the future."

Ino nudged Yuuji and mouthed the words "Here it comes."

"Having said that, Itadori, some points to consider."

The cheerful boy glanced back at Nanami and gulped.

"Err, yes, Nanamin?"

"Your instincts are important, but you can't always rely on them. Instincts are based on your physical senses and your ability to analyse cursed energy. It takes a great deal of focus to maintain a good hold on both these threads. If a curse user is able to fool your senses, then such instincts can be your downfall rather than your strength."

Yuuji mulled those words over, humming to himself. Ino clapped him on the back.

"You listen to Nanami and you won't go wr- "

"Funny you should say that, Ino. Because I'm pretty sure I taught you to practice caution at all times instead of throwing yourself head-first into a situation because your underclassman is watching you."

Ino winced and rubbed the back of his head, laughing sheepishly.

"Okay, okay. I admit it. Got a bit carried away 'cos Itadori was watching me. Won't happen again."

Nanami grunted in reply and the two younger sorcerers glanced at each other and grinned slightly. Yuuji's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly in protest of its emptiness.

"Whoa, whoa. Can't have that. Hey, Nanami, what do you say we grab something to eat?"

"I suppose that would be acceptable. What do you propose?"

Ino turned excitedly to Yuuji.

"Since you're the newbie here, you get to choose! Only for today, though!"

"Seriously? Cool! I wanna eat ... hot pot on a day like this. That warehouse was kinda chilly."

Nanami nodded before consulting his phone.

"There's a good place not far from here. Let's go."

The place Nanami chose was somewhat off the beaten track. They left the main thoroughfare at some point, wandering through a maze of backstreets, food sizzling on outdoor grills, murky puddles and cosily lit bars. The restaurant they ended up at had no proper signage announcing the name of the establishment or any indication of their menu.

The food was, of course, incredible. Yuuji's eyes positively glowed with excitement as the steaming hot pot was laid out before them, the perfectly prepared ingredients on the side.

"Ooh, this is amazing! Nanamin, how'd you find this place?"

"I often come across good places to eat when I'm on missions in the area."

Ino shook his head fondly.

"Oi, Itadori, Nanami here is a massive foodie, you know that? You name any part of Tokyo and he'll tell you the best places to eat there. He even knows regional specialties in other areas that are pretty out there!"

Yuuji was now regarding his mentor with new reverence. Nanami coughed and re-directed their attention to the food.

"This is going to get cold. Shall we begin?"

"Oh! Hold on. Gotta record some of this."

Ino pulled out his phone, getting a few snaps and videos of the steaming hot pot from various angles. Now accustomed to his junior's need to record everything, Nanami sighed and began to add ingredients to the steaming soup base, softly reprimanding Yuuji who didn't want too many vegetables.

"It's winter and these are good for you. Make sure to eat the cabbage. It has roughage and the shungiku and carrots have a lot of vitamins. They also reduce inflammation of the muscles after a long day."

While the pot bubbled merrily, Nanami prepped their sauces in small porcelain dishes, mixing a little grated radish into the ponzu and adding some green onion to the sesame. He added ingredients to the main pot in a methodical sequence, placing the thicker parts of the vegetables first, followed by the assortment of mushrooms and the tofu.

Lastly, with Yuuji's mouth now practically watering, he handed over the thinly sliced beef for them to take, each dipping their portion for a few seconds until cooked, his deep murmur guiding them on correct timing. Ino had now set his phone aside and was just as hungry, digging in with relish.

When the meal was over, two stuffed and slightly drowsy youngsters followed Nanami out of the restaurant, the warmth of the food in their system buffering against the cold wind that caught at their clothes.

By the time Yuuji had been dropped back at Jujutsu Tech, he was ready to hit the bath and sleep for a solid ten hours. Loping towards the student dorms, he briefly checked his phone, shooting a quick text at Megumi.

Back from my mission. All good.

The reply came within seconds.

Did I ask?

I met Takuma!

Oh. He's cool.

Very cool. We had supper at a hot pot place.

With Nanami?

Yup. Apparently he's big on food.

I'm going to sleep now.

Check this out. Takuma sent it to me. He kinda forgot he was recording after a while.

Attachment: 1.

Shit, you're making me hungry dumbass.

Lol. Looks good, huh?

Yeah, whatever. Post it on your IG or something.

Humming thoughtfully, Yuuji entered his room and began gathering together some of his bath supplies. He paused at the foot of his bed, head bobbing to some unheard lyrics, fingers tapping against the phone screen that lit up his face in the darkened room.

After a few moments, he dropped the phone face down on his bed, exiting the room with a yawn, the basket of toiletries tucked under one arm. He promptly forgot about his casual IG post, right up until the next morning when he roused from sleep, eyes still slightly gummed together, fingers fumbling until they unlocked the screen so he could check the time ... and he shot upright in confused alarm, spying the flood of notifications that had come in overnight.

Now it has to be said, at this point, that being the easy-going, friendly type, Yuuji had made a lot of connections with others over time. Whether during his years at middle school, his sporting club days, or more recently, his time out and about in Tokyo on various missions, he'd managed to accrue a fair following on social media. While many of those who friended him and sent him the occasional inbox wouldn't be considered close to him by any means, his posts were often noticed and popular amongst them. Such was the nature of his personality.

And so, the video of Nanami with the hot pot, normally something that would fly under the radar if posted by anyone else, became an overnight sensation simply because it reached a much wider audience.

And what was the appeal of such a simple video, you may ask?

Imagine, if you will, a short video with simple tags, such as 'shabu shabu heaven', 'sooo good', 'too many veggies' and 'still so yummy, tho'.

Upon idly playing the clip (because it's a cold evening, and you might be craving some shabu shabu yourself) you're met with quite the sight.

First, a pair of hands come into view. Large, elegant digits, broad palms, perfect and neatly trimmed nails. The strong fingers handle the chopsticks with deft precision, stirring the steaming broth in the pot briefly.

Well now. Those hands would definitely be intriguing enough, but the effect is magnified as you witness the camera shift angle a little. The view pans up to the arms and body those hands are attached to, the subtle ripple of muscle in the broad shoulders that taper down to a slim waist, all wrapped in an expensive looking blue shirt, visible over the polished wood of the table. The man's face isn't visible, adding an element of mystery.

He begins adding vegetables to the pot, and now he really has your attention, because he has begun speaking.

And oh my. That voice.

The soft, smoky suggestion of reprimand as he softly lists the benefits of the food, the crisp enunciation of a man well-spoken, the low baritone that flows with marvellous richness across the riverbed of acoustic static from the bubbling of the pot.

You're captivated now, bringing your phone closer to your ear as you strain to hear more of those quiet, compelling, slightly authoritative tones. And then, the crowning moment of glory, the little gesture that takes this video from a solid nine to an eleven out of ten.

He rolls up his sleeves.

Setting down the chopsticks, those exquisite fingers unbutton the cuffs of his shirt with a practiced motion, rolling up the perfectly pressed fabric and folding it neatly just beneath the elbow on each side. The motion reveals perfectly sculpted forearms, the powerful flex of sinew beneath skin, veins tracing beneath the surface under the dusting of golden hair in the lamplight of the restaurant.

He continues his muted litany of instructions to whoever he is talking to, but at this point, the man could be reciting the Encyclopaedia Britannica entry on tortoises, on repeat, and you'd lap it up like the thirsty little tart you are ...

Ahem. Where was I?

Right. The video, which at that moment, was being watched by you (the imagined viewer) and Reiko from the sales department, and Haruka who you had lunch with just the other day, and Sara who loves to look up cooking videos on a Sunday afternoon, and Sukuna, who sometimes watched videos from inside Yuuji's mind with mild interest, and who momentarily thought "What a fine voice for a mortal worm", and ... you get the idea, don't you?

Ino received a panicked call from Yuuji that same morning. He'd been puttering about in his small apartment, popping some slices of bread into the toaster and frying up an egg for a quick breakfast, when the call had come through.

"Uh, Takuma-senpai? Hi, it's me, Itadori."

"Oh, hey! What's up? Did they team us up again? Sheesh. Didn't take 'em long."

"No, it's ... not a mission. It's about that video you sent me yesterday. The one from the restaurant."

"Hmm ... oh that one! Yeah?"

"See ... uhhh ... oh damn. How do I - So, look. I posted it on my IG."

"Oh, okay. And then?"

"So ... it kind of ... became popular?"

"People like hot pot that much?" Ino chuckled. "But I mean, what's the problem?"

"It's not the hot pot, Takuma-senpai! It's Nanamin!"

Having finally come to the crux of the issue, Yuuji's words were leaving him in a veritable torrent.

"They all saw him in the video and I didn't know! How was I to know? I didn't think they'd... and now there're all these ladies and girls and stuff and they're all ... it's a mess! And I don't know what to do and he's gonna kill me and - "

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, man. I can't make sense of what you're saying. One thing at a time."

"They think he's hot! They're all talking about Hot Pot Honey Muffin! That's what they're calling him!"

Ino promptly spat out his coffee in a fine brown mist.

"Hot Pot Honey what now?"

"Honey Muffin! I can't - Dude. Please, you've got to help me. If Nanamin finds out - "

"Okay. Okay. This is fine. This is ... Listen. Let me go check the video and the comments and we'll handle this. It can't be that bad. And even if that's the case, Nanami wouldn't be bothered by it. His face is not even in the video. Nobody can recognise him. He doesn't even go out that much."

"Oh God, I'm just ... okay. Go check it out. I'll send you a link to the post. Let me know."

After Yuuji had rung off, Ino took a breath and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. It was just a harmless little video! He'd posted some of these before himself, and there'd never been an issue. So how bad could it be?

It was bad.

The comment section was ... interesting to say the least.

Who is that man? Anyone?

I'd let him stir my pot. Just saying.

That voice. Hnmnnghhh. Smack me on the wrist and call me nawty.

Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry -

Sir. One chance. Please sir.

Awjejdbavzbzbahsb pls ur bunny hash been a bad bad gurl

Unf, bouta make that ahegoa face rite now

And, rising above the cloud of steaming, churning, thirsty commentary, that rare peak of social media strata, the dreaded moniker that had found its place from the comment of one of the many new fans that Nanami had found for himself, Hot Pot Honey Muffin.

Ino, in spite of the chill that went up his spine and the momentary panic, knew what had to be done immediately. They had to show Nanami. Keeping something like this a secret would only make things worse with time.

True, Nanami wasn't the kind of man who drew attention to himself, but with the video now as popular as it was, it was entirely possible that someone in a shop, restaurant or one of his other frequent haunts in the local area might just recognise him. He would have to be warned, and even though Yuuji had long since taken the video down, it had been re-posted and there needed to be some kind of technical damage control.

Wracking his brain, Ino hit upon a great idea. Ijichi was known to have connections who could scour the internet for traces of curse activity that might be caught on camera and erase such evidence. Surely something similar could be done about this? If he phrased his request as something urgent, something that could affect Nanami's ability to do his job, then surely they'd take it into account?

With this new burst of inspiration, Ino threw on his jacket and headed out the door to Jujutsu Tech.

"And so ... yeah. That's ... how the matter stands. We're worried about someone recognising you because of how popular this became."

This was worse than he thought. Admitting to a mistake was always difficult when it was Nanami who was hearing you out. Standing in front of him in the staff lounge like two contrite five-year-olds caught with their hands in the cookie jar, Ino battled the instinct to hide behind Yuuji.

He was the older one here, and the one who had recorded the video in the first place. He had to bear the full responsibility for what had happened and be man enough to tell Nanami. How else would he earn his (eventual) respect and admiration?

The sorcerer seated before them heard them out in terrifyingly passive silence before sighing and removing his shades, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just when I think nothing can surprise me any more ... "

"I'm so sorry, Nanamin!" Yuuji blurted out. "I ... I didn't know ... I mean ... "

"Well, what's done is done. May I see this video, if you please?"

Ino nudged Yuuji  who stepped forward and handed his phone over reluctantly. Their discomfort grew as Nanami watched, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. The video ended and he looked up at them, frowning.

"All right. I can see why you didn't think anything of posting this, Itadori. The video itself is ... ordinary enough. It's simply showing a portion of me and the hot pot. So, why the attention?"

"Uhh ... "

The younger sorcerers glanced at each other. Ino cleared his throat.

"Well ... see, the thing is ... in the video, you kinda come across as ... I dunno ... kinda hot? At least, that's what the viewers seem to think."

"Me?"

Nanami looked incredulous and Yuuji gestured meekly to the phone.

"Just ... read the comments, Nanamin. I took the video down, but people re-posted it, so ... You'll see."

And Nanami began to read. Ino winced as he remembered the top comment, the one that would probably be first on the long list.

Roses are red, violets are blue, Your voice gets me wet Just like shabu shabu

Nanami's eyebrows were rising as steadily as the steam that emanated from the tea pot at his elbow, long forgotten. He eventually handed the phone back to Yuuji, clearing his throat.

"Well."

"Yeah."

"So ... "

"Hmmm."

"Right?"

"Yes."

Yuuji waved his hands desperately.

"But ... we're gonna handle this, right Takuma-senpai?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. I was thinking, you see. Ijichi might be able to use his network to find and remove the content from all media platforms. He's been able to do it before. I can make a request."

Nanami folded his arms and thought for a moment.

"I see. Yes, that would be possible. However, I'm against the idea of using Jujutsu Tech resources and manpower for a request such as this. That same time and processing power could be poured into much more vital concerns. Who knows how many lives could be placed at stake while we use the tools we have for something like this? No. I think another solution must be found."

Ino's shoulders sank under the weight of the knowledge that Nanami was right, as usual. But that left few avenues for removing the video. How else would they prevent this from blowing up further?

"I get it. What you're saying makes sense. What are we gonna do, though?"

"Ah. About that." Nanami lifted a prim finger. "I have an idea."

Yuuji stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You do?"

"Yes. But we will require some help. And some ... expertise on putting together a video."

It was then that Ino felt an even greater chill settle into his very bones as he witnessed something truly rare and unprecedented, something that did not bode well for him and Yuuji at all.

Nanami smiled.

It was Nobara's skill with outfits and make-up, and Inumaki's talent for setting up a scene, that had led to their current predicament. Yuuji's hair had been dyed black, his eyebrows darkened. Nobara's contouring prowess had rendered his face rounder and younger-looking, eyes magnified behind very large, thick lenses. He wore a red t-shirt with a skimpily dressed anime girl printed on it and an oversized purple jacket that disguised his lean, athletic form.

Ino had also undergone a drastic transformation. His dark hair had been shaved at the sides, the top styled into extreme spikes, tinted acid green at the ends. He had been provided with a fake eyebrow piercing and an artfully applied temporary tattoo that curved up the side of his neck, appallingly visible by the standards of society.

They sat at one of the countertops in the student dorms, the background serving as an adequate stand-in for a kitchen in someone's home. Nanami was standing opposite them, wearing his usual blue shirt and tan trousers, his sleeves remaining unfolded this time around.

Inumaki gave one final check to the camera before giving them a thumbs up.

"Salmon roe."

And the recording began.

On the counter, various dishes had been set up, all prepared in advance. They looked delicious, but you wouldn't think so, judging from the expressions of the two young men seated in plain view.

Ino grunted irritably, giving the camera a thousand-yard stare that looked very incongruous on his normally cheery face.

"Do we have to do this shit?"

Yuuji stared gormlessly into space, before laughing obnoxiously and picking his nose.

"Yeah, cos Dad said if we did we could go to that one restaurant where the waitress looked like Hatsune Kiku."

Ino's scowl deepened.

"Tch. Typical. Shit for brains here is on about that dumbass idol again."

"Now, now, boys." Nanami's voice came from across the counter, deep, polished, and a huge contrast to the two choice morsels of hellspawn sitting opposite him.

"Eat your dinner. If you're both good, we'll go to that show next week."

Yuuji's face brightened immediately.

"You mean the one where they dress up in bikinis and wrestle in the mud?"

"No, not that one."

Ino smirked.

"Ha. In your face, rat-breath."

"Be nice to your brother."

"Whatever. What are you feeding us now, old man?"

"I made katsudon. And some vegetables on the side."

"But I wanna eat omurice," Yuuji whined, thumping his fists on the table.

Nanami chuckled. "Ah, you remind me so much of myself at your age, son."

Ino rolled his eyes before tugging a steaming bowl towards himself.

"Seriously? You were this much of a loser?"

"I meant that I liked omurice too."

"Daaaaddd, please can we have omurice."

"Eat what's in front of you. Come on."

Ino stuck his chopsticks into the bowl, churning the beautifully prepared meal into an unappetizing mush.

"Huh. It tastes okay. Now give me a nice hot barbecue and I'd be really stuck in, ya know?"

"Oh, Hatsune Kiku likes barbecue, but she says, in her interview with Doki Doki magazine, Issue five hundred and three, that she can't eat too much of it, 'cos it gives her gas and - "

"Can you shut the hell up about that green haired freak for like, two seconds?"

"Kiku is not a freak!"

"Are you two eating?"

This earned a blessed silence for a few seconds, while the two 'sons' masticated in a manner that was singularly unappealing. When they were done, Nanami produced two bowls of caramel pudding and slid them across the counter, allowing his hands and arms in their blue sleeves to be briefly caught on camera.

"Well, here's dessert."

"Oohhh, pudding." Yuuji grabbed the bowl and moved it around slightly, watching the pudding jiggle. "Hehehehe. It bounces just like Kiku's - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you creepy - "

"Language, boys."

"Urgh. I hope I'm getting paid for this. Hanging out with this loser is taking years off my life."

"He's your brother. You two have to look after each other when I'm gone."

"Like fuck I will. He's gonna become a NEET however you see it."

"Then it's up to you to set a good example for him."

"Ha. Me? The second you're in the ground, I'm gonna take the money and buy myself that sweet, sweet little Kawasaki Ninja, then I'm gonna hit the road."

"You'll see things differently with time. Look at me. I was the splitting image of you back then. I settled down nicely."

"Ugh, whatever. I ain't gonna settle down. Now where's my cash?"

"Finish your pudding first, son."

The video, released from a burner account set up by Inumaki, spread as quickly as the first one had. In the days that followed, gossip spread in social media circles about 'Hot Pot Honey Muffin' and his two god-awful sons. The rhetoric around him changed drastically. It turned out that having children, like the boys played so charmingly by Ino and Yuuji, was a huge turn-off to most people.

The two young sorcerers certainly served their time when it came to punishment. It took ages for the tint to grow out of Yuuji's hair and he cringed every time he saw Hatsune Kiku on TV. Ino developed a very strong aversion to bikes for a while and found it hard to stomach pudding. They both decided to deactivate their IG accounts for a while.

Nanami read some of the new video's comments shown to him by Inumaki with some satisfaction.

Can you believe those are his kids?

How the heck is he raising them?

And the younger one. EWWWWWWW.

The older one looks like he microwaves pigeons for fun.

Roses are dead, Violets are a lie, I saw your children, And my pussy is dry.

Nanami adjusted his shades before looking up at Inumaki and nodding gravely.

Success.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

I don't know if your request is open can you write Creator reader who favorites Zhongli, Venti, Nahida?

They need love ok 🙄

Yep yep, got it! Lemme see what I can pull off :)

Favoritism! With The Archons (Discluding Ei and Furina—)!

(Warning: Might Be OOC!)

Nahida

She honestly loves the attention you give her! She's really happy to get to spend time with you, and really get to know you and who you really are despite your title as the Almighty Creator.

Loves it if you play with her—and especially loves to learn the kind of games that you played before you re-descended down to Teyvat. There's UNO...and that's pretty much all that I can remember but you get the idea—

Loves visiting you in your dreams to see what you dream of. The Almighty Creator would surely have dreams of all forms filled with creative and inspiring ideas!

Nahida would 100% try to ask you to hang out with her through the streets of Sumeru. She has no shame :D And, if anything, her people would see this as a blessing.

"Come on, Your Grace! I want to show you somewhere I found!" Nahida would also take you to the Aranaras, where you would eat fresh fruit, make flower crowns, and even play some hide-and-seek.

She loves making and meeting new friends, the Almighty Creator is no exception! Spend some time with her as much as you can, Nahida will cherish it!

Venti

Hohoho, you're down to hang out with this carefree bard? Well, the first hangout will definitely be inside the most extravagant tavern of all time!

Yes, he means Angel's Share. Or the Cat's Tail. Man has his standards and he ain't afraid to take you there. Prepare for the best wine you'll ever taste, because Venti sure as hell is proud of the wine of Mondstadt.

Loves to share ballads and songs with you. Some of them are even based off on you! Loves when you give him your feedback as well.

Give him apples. He'll be happy—that's not saying a lot. Any apple dish, he will eat. Even if the apple is very little.

"Yahoo, Your Grace!~ Wanna hear a ballad this amazing bard has made for you?" Would absolutely perform these ballads during Windblume Festival, so please praise him :D

Zhongli

OSMANTHUS WINE TASTES THE SAME AS I— *Aggressive Truck Noises Driving Pass*

Take him out for food, buy him any gifts, ANYTHING. This man loves anything you'll give as well (trust me)

Just take some time to spend with him. Strolling through the area, the market, it doesn't matter—he cherishes all moments with you, as you are a friend (and more cough cough)

Osmanthus wine. Yes.

"Ah, Your Grace. I am blessed to know that you have the time to spend it with me. Please, allow me to pour you a fine cup of tea." If you're a tea lover, you both are gonna have a really good time.

Zhongli loves to share stories, so if you like to know more about Liyue's history, you came to the right guy :)

He's also a good listener, so you can also share stories and he will be rapt with attention. He loves every single story you tell.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: My procrastination is impeccable. I'm on a living streak, clearly. Welp, I hope this satisfies you—hopefully, the next request doesn't take too long (watch me eat those words).

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[oikasugayama]

I love all your posts. In your dazai nsfw head canons, there was the thing with chuuya and I was wondering if you could write a fic on that? It's oki if not!! :)

tag-team

Inspired by letters I and W from my Dazai NSFW alphabet in which Dazai wants to fuck his girlfriend in Chuuya's office, and Chuuya gets to join in.

5.1k, jealous!dazai, afab!reader, cumming inside, cunnilingus, blowjob, fingering, soukoku bickering while fucking, etc. not soukoku but they do sexually interact, etc. not proofread bc i'm tired [click to read on ao3]

You urge Dazai to lock the door behind you, but he chuckles and shakes his head. “No baby,” he mumbles, sliding his hands past your hips and down to grab two handfuls of your ass. “He'll know something's up if the door's locked. If Chuuya catches us, we should be riiiight in the middle of things so he can't stop us.”

“Remind me why I let you talk me into this again?” you ask as he leans forward, chasing your lips even as you lean back and wait for an answer.

“Because fuck Chuuya. If I want to fuck my girl in his office, I will.”

“That's a terrible reason,” you gasp as Dazai slides one hand up your body and into the hair at the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. His open mouth meets yours, tongues immediately gliding together with the same force as your lips. 

“But we're here, aren't we?” he asks after pulling back just for a second. “And I want you so bad.”

You whimper and let him reel you in once again. Your nerves will get the best of you if you have time to take in your surroundings; as it is your nose can't stop sniffing out the unfamiliar smells of luxuriois leather and some kind of smoke. If Dazai keeps leading you so confidently you'll be able to let go of yourself entirely and go along with this absolute ridiculous plan of his.

He kisses you faster and with more urgency than he does at home, making both of you breathless as you gasp into each other's mouths and lap at each other's tongues. 

His large hands glide over your body, up and down your back, hiking your top up and trying to dip into your pants. You follow his lead, reaching for the buttons on his vest and his shirt. He keeps kissing you through both of you martially undressing, his tops hitting the floor, yours following shortly after.

When he gets your bra off he makes you sit on Chuuya’s desk, and he leans down to suck on your tit. You lean back, tossing your hair over your shoulder, closing your eyes so you can focus on the feeling of Dazai's tongue circling your nipple as it perks and hardens at his touch. You make small noises, still shy in an unfamiliar place, but Dazai keeps working over you, suckling, kneading, teasing his teeth over your skin, until you're softly moaning his name and laying back, making him bend at the waist and lean forward to follow you down onto Chuuya's desk, ignoring whatever papers you land on. 

Dazai kisses lower eventually, and his deft fingers unbutton your jeans and start sneaking under the fabric.

“You're so pretty spread out for me on stupid Chuuya’s desk,” he says cupping your dampening panties in his palm. “I'm gonna make you feel so good the whole Mafia hears you screaming.”

Your eyes widen in panic briefly and you stutter out a no, but Dazai laughs softly and kisses right above where your panties cover.

“You're safe, baby, I promise. Not a single person here would be stupid enough to hurt a hair on your head.” He drags your jeans down your legs finally, and you kick a little as he pulls them over your feet. He grabs one ankle, kisses the inside of it, then holds your leg up and kisses slowly down, closer and closer to your crotch.

“These walls are soundproof anyways,” he says once he's near your inner thigh. “No one will hear you scream.”

You giggle softly and push his forehead away from you.

“Don't be creepy, weirdo.”

He smiles and lays his cheek against your thigh, his face so close to your clothed cunt. You watch him, desperate for his next move.

“There's my sweet girl. You really don't need to be worried, I promise.” You jump slightly when his finger presses just above your clit and pushes in as he drags it down, making your panties slightly stick between your folds. “I'd never put you in danger.” His voice lowers as his finger goes up again, still pushing in, now really emphasizing your cleavage. “You know that, right?”

You nod, giving a quiet “mhm.”

“Speak up,” he says, now tracing his fingers around the outside of your panties.

“I know,” you say, still keeping your eyes locked on his. “You'd never put me in danger.”

“Good. And do you know why?” His finger slips under by just a single knuckle, and he lifts your panties high, making the crotch pull taut and squish between your labia. You whine and try to push down to get some friction on your clit but it's barely there, he's holding your panties at just the wrong angle.

“Tell me.”

“Because you love me?” You guess, and he smiles widely.

“Exactly!” he says in his playful, excited voice. Then he rolls his head toward your crotch and licks a fat, wet stripe up one half of your exposed cunt. You make a startled little moan and he chuckles before licking the other side too.

“Now, do you want my tongue or my fingers?” he asks so close that you can feel his breath tickling your wet skin.

“Both,” you answer immediately.

“Both?” He sits up and tsks, slowly shaking his head. He stands upright and you whine, reaching for him, saying soft no’s.

“Greedy girl.” He looks down and spreads your pussy with his fingers, then readjusts your panties so they're right against your clit. “You must be so horny you could die. Being so greedy like that… Why don't you get yourself off then, baby? Show me how you play with yourself with no hands.”

He tugs your panties up slightly a couple of times, giving little pricks of pleasure to your clit. You get the hint and move your hips up slowly, getting another prick of sensation. You readjust, getting one foot up on the desk beside you so you have leverage to move. Then you start a slow rhythm, bucking upward against your panties so they grind on your clit and work you up. 

“That's it, baby,” Dazai coos lowly, petting your thigh with his free hand. After a while when your speed increases and you start whining his name, he unbuckles his belt, works open his button and fly, and pulls his dick out, giving it strokes that match the time of your grinding.

“Fuck, this is hot,” he sighs. “I could watch you get yourself off all day.”

“But I want you,” you whine. You start kneading and pawing at your boobs as well, staring right up at Dazai. “Fuck me,” you beg softly.

Dazai bites his lip but says nothing, watching you with his greedy, hungry eyes.

“Please,” you breathily beg, searching for more pressure that just doesn’t exist in your current predicament. “Please, Dazai, please. Please.”

“God, it’s so hot when you beg,” he finally says, letting go of his dick. He grabs your panties with both hands and pulls them down your legs before haphazardly throwing them over his shoulder to land somewhere else.

“I want you so bad, Dazai. Please. Please.”

“Shhh,” he coos softly, leaning down over you. His lips brush yours and he intersperses tiny kisses with tiny shushes as his fingers collect your wetness. You desperately chase his lips, but he keeps pulling away. He even has the audacity to chuckle in your face.

“Don’t worry, needy girl.” He hisses softly, and you vaguely get the impression that his arm is moving-- he must be stroking himself with your wetness. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He asks if you’re ready, and you keep nodding and nodding and finally he slips the tip inside and you moan into his face.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, sinking further and further into you. “Love this pussy. It’s so fucking good to me.”

“I love you,” you whine and he chuckles again as he bottoms out.

“I love you,” he mutters against your lips and kisses you properly, not teasing or withholding anymore.

And that’s when the door opens.

“What the fuck?! Dazai!” Chuuya yells, scrambling for what to say next. Dazai sighs dramatically, letting the noise turn into a groan. He stands up without pulling out of you and turns his upper body toward Chuuya.

“What do you want?” he snaps. “I’m kind of busy here.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” There’s a scuffle and some noise from the hallway, but to your surprise Chuuya calmly calls over his shoulder “Don’t worry about it-- I’ve got it under control,” and then closes and locks the door behind him. He takes his hat off and hangs it on the back of the door then turns back to you two.

“I thought you were fucking joking, you dumbass.”

“I never joke about my lady’s pleasure,” Dazai says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“What is he talking about?” Your whole body is flushed with embarrassment and fear and now confusion. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, afraid of being yelled at or in trouble with the fucking Port Mafia, but Dazai is acting so nonchalant, and all Chuuya does is tsk.

“You didn’t even tell her? How the fuck did you get her here if you didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what? Dazai?”

Dazai groans and turns back fully to you, grinding against you, making you gasp. “I told you that you weren’t in any danger. Chuuya knew we were coming.”

“I didn’t know. You said it like a fucking joke.”

“Dazai, tell me what--”

“I asked Chuuya if he’d let us fuck in his office if he got to join in if he caught us, and he said yes.”

“I thought you were joking!”

“Join in…?”

Dazai’s eyes lock on yours but he doesn’t say anything. Your eyes are softer than he expected and now he’s starting to realize maybe he didn’t make the right call here. Now he’ll actually have to put his money where his mouth is and let his ex-partner fuck his girlfriend.

Dazai easily regains his composure and turns to look at Chuuya again.

“Well?” he asks. “Why are you still standing there? You caught us, so come here.”

Chuuya hesitates.

“She okay with this?” he asks. “Man, I don’t even know her name.”

“That’s because you haven’t introduced yourself yet, slug. Now come here.”

“Don’t boss me around,” he grumbles as he crosses the room. Finally he’s standing over you and his eyes lock purely on yours, not straying in the slightest to any of your exposed skin.

“Sorry we weren’t properly introduced because your boyfriend’s a fucking moron. I’m Nakahara Chuuya. Are you okay with this?”

“Hi, Chuuya,” you say softly. Your face is so warm as you blush; his formality makes the situation really sink in--you’re spread out naked with your boyfriend balls deep, and Chuuya’s hardly acknowledging it. “He is kind of dumb, but I like him anyway--”

“--Heeey--”

“I’m [Y/N], and yeah, you can join us. I mean, really it’s the least we could do…”

A smirk slowly overcomes Chuuya’s face.

“Oh, yeah? Gonna pay me back for the time it’s gonna take to clean my office by letting me use your pretty little body?”

Dazai grinds against you again, and you groan softly, biting your lip.

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding at Chuuya. “We’ll make it worth your time.” You reach out for his hand, and he allows you to take it. You guide it to your tit, and he chuckles.

“Right into it, huh?” he asks, massaging it gently. Dazai finally pulls partially out of you and thrusts back in, making you gasp again. Chuuya glances down at where your cunt sucks your boyfriend’s cock in, and he clicks his tongue.

“Damn, that’s kinda hot.” He pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it and squeezing, drawing extra whines from you.

“Isn’t she?” Dazai asks rhetorically, rubbing one of his hands across your belly and up your side. He pulls you by your hips until your ass is partially hanging off the desk. You wrap your legs around his hips and he starts his usual starting pace, fucking into you nice and deep because of the angle he has you at.

“Chuuya,” you say softly, but the way Dazai is fucking you makes everything you say sound like a breathy moan. Both of them turn slightly red from hearing you more or less moan to Chuuya. “Chuuya, take your pants off,” you add, trying to make it clear that you were trying to say this from the beginning. Dazai’s thrusts speed up and hit harder, and he starts grunting from the effort.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, grabbing the edge of the desk for dear life. “Oh, Dazai, fuck!”

You hear the clinking of metal and turn your head to see Chuuya doing as you asked. He drops his pants, kicking them to the side after kicking his shoes off too. He unbuttons his vest and his shirt and strips until he’s only in his underwear and socks. You watch as he palms himself through his underwear, watching from a few feet away as Dazai fucks you relentlessly. Your tits jiggle, your breath shakes, your legs are trembling, and Dazai is huffing and moaning and panting above you. His head is down, his long hair hanging over his face as he watches where your cunt meets his cock--he told you once it’s one of his favorite sights, and when he gets so drunk on it like today, you believe it.

“Let me touch you,” you stumble out to Chuuya, reaching out to him again. He shuffles closer until your hand can paw at his crotch, feeling for the shape of him through cloth. He locks his hands behind his head and stands with his hips toward you, watching as you stroke him and feel him up as best you can.

“Take it off,” you huff, grabbing the elastic of his waistband. “I wanna see.”

Meanwhile, Dazai’s pace doesn’t let up. One of his hands gropes at your breasts, squeezing and almost using it as leverage to balance himself as he fucks you.

“Go on then,” Chuuya says without moving. You struggle to reach both arms over to him, but you manage to squirm away from Dazai just enough-- which he does not like-- to get your hands on Chuuya’s underwear. You pull it down a few inches and push it as much as you can until finally they drop.

His cock is a nice size-- it’s thick and when you wrap your hand around it, an inch or two and the tip are still sticking out. His pubes are thick but cleanly trimmed and with his toned, muscular body you have to admit you’re finding him really, extremely hot.

“Your hands are much softer than mine,” he grunts as you jerk him off. “Feels good.”

“She’s got an amazing mouth,” Dazai pants, finally lifting his head to watch you interact with Chuuya, though his pace never ceases. “Put on a condom and let her show you what she can do.”

“You use condoms?” Chuuya asks, glancing down at Dazai’s dick.

“No, but you will if you’re gonna put your dick anywhere near her,” he mumbles. “I don’t even like her hand on you bare.” He grimaces. “You still keep some in your desk, don’t you?”

“Old habits die hard,” Chuuya mumbles, gently touching your hand to make you let go of him. As he rounds his desk to rifle through his drawers, Dazai leans down and licks one nipple, then the other.

“I’m gonna cum in you,” he mumbles against your skin. “You’re mine. Don’t you forget that.”

“Yeah,” you moan as you agree. His fingers find his way down to your pussy, and you feel one partially slip in beside his cock, working a louder moan from you as it stretches you nicely. He pulls it out, presses in, gently stretching and filling you to the brim.

There’s a thud next to your head, and you turn to see Chuuya kneeling on the desk beside you, rolling a condom over his shaft. “Will you open that pretty mouth for me?”

You don’t even answer, you just whine and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

“She loves it,” Dazai says, and it comes out awfully near to a moan. “Love sucking cock, don’t you, [Y/N]?”

“Mhm,” you hum around Chuuya’s tip as he settles it on your tongue. You close your mouth around him and let him decide the pace. He goes relatively easy on you given how Dazai is still jackhammering away at your cunt, grunting and huffing though he’s far less talkative than normal.

“Yeah, look at you,” Dazai sighs blissfully. “Bet you like having two cocks, huh? Greedy girl.” His eyes are on your mouth, watching Chuuya tamely slide in and out of your mouth. He privately seethes at the way your shiny eyes stare up at Chuuya, but he’s determined to get your attention back by making you cum.

His finger, now sufficiently wet from fingering you while fucking you, slides up from your pussy to your clit. He rubs fast, wide circles over your clit. He relishes in the way your eyes widen and flicker over to him. You must have sucked in a breath and sucked harder on Chuuya, because he moans too and his hips stutter forward.

Dazai knows that you’re about to cum based on your frequent moans. He wishes he could hear them more clearly, but he also is starting to find a sick sort of pleasure in the muffled sound you make combined with the typical noises of having a cock in your mouth. Chuuya’s not too bad looking, either.

Finally it happens. You’re loud, even muffled as you are. You moan and whine, your breathing is heavy and struggles to escape through your nose, but Chuuya doesn’t retract himself to make it any easier on you. Your legs tremble, and Dazai feels proud because of it. The way your walls clench and flutter as your orgasm tears through you milks Dazai’s dick so good.

“Fuck, mm, fuck!” Dazai whimpers and drops his head, once again watching his favorite sight. He’s been fucking you so deeply, and you’ve been so exceptionally wet today, that there’s a sticky, white ring around his shaft and it only gets messier as he cums inside of you. He shoots thick ropes of white deep inside, continuing to thrust increasingly lazily as he empties his load. 

“Stop, stop,” Dazai says softly, touching Chuuya’s hips. Chuuya gives him a look but nods and backs up, finally freeing your mouth. Dazai slips out of you while leaning down to kiss you. You lick and pant into each other’s mouths, and when Dazai pulls away he slides two messy, cum-covered fingers onto your tongue.

“Taste us.”

You clean his fingers off with your mouth and try to sit up once he’s pulled his hand away and stood up himself.

Maybe it’s because of how calm and blissed out Dazai is because of his orgasm, but he lolls his head to the side and smiles lazily at Chuuya. “She’s the wettest she’s ever been,” he sighs happily. “You better get your dick wet before I change my mind. Take that stupid thing off,” he says, waving his hand at Chuuya’s condom-covered dick.

“You sure?” Chuuya asks, raising an eyebrow. He holds himself by the base, languidly stroking when his cock gives an interested twitch at what Dazai offers. Meanwhile, Dazai is helping you to your feet and peppering kisses across your face.

“Yes,” Dazai says, rolling his eyes at Chuuya, then he turns back to you. “Why don’t you take it off him, baby?”

You nod slightly and turn to Chuuya, holding your hands out toward him. He crawls to the edge of the desk beside you, observing the way your legs tremble after the pounding Dazai just gave you. You wrap your hands around him and roll the condom off, handing it to Dazai after which makes him laugh.

“Throw it away,” you mumble, then predicting what he’ll do, you quickly add on “in the trash not on the floor.”

“Yes, darling,” he coos, though it’s unmistakable how disgusted he is to be holding Chuuya’s used condom. He barely grips it with two fingers, holding it away from himself. “In the meantime, I think Chuuya should lay on the floor-- you’ll both like my idea, so just do it.”

You and Chuuya share a look as Dazai goes behind Chuuya’s desk to find a trash can, but Chuuya shrugs and gets down on the floor on his back, one arm behind his head, the other lazily stroking his cock as he looks up at you. His eyes trail down your body, from the hickeys and lovebites all over your neck and chest to your red, sore nipples all the way down to your visibly sticky wet cunt which has been slowly dribbling Dazai’s cum down your thigh.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Chuuya hisses, fisting his cock harder when he notices the cum trail.

“Isn’t she?” Dazai asks, coming back to you. He gives you a few sweet kisses, keeping his eyes cracked open to make sure Chuuya is watching. Then he takes your hands and guides you the few steps over to his former partner on the floor.

“Lay down on top of him, your back on his chest.”

“But I’m gonna--”

“You’re not gonna squish him, he’ll be fine.” Dazai holds your hands as you kneel down, straddling Chuuya’s hips backwards.

“But if you touch him you’ll nullify--”

“He’s tougher than he looks, and he already looks pretty tough-- that’s the only compliment you’re getting from me, Slug.”

Chuuya’s hands grab your waist and help you sit on his hips and then lay back so you’re against his chest.

“Not even using my ability and you’re fine, babe. Don’t worry about your weight, I don’t care.”

“‘Babe,’” Dazai quotes with an edge of bitterness in his voice. You knew he’d get a little jealous letting his former partner in the mix, but it was his idea and you’re intent on seeing it through now. You’ll never tell Dazai, but you do find Chuuya incredibly attractive and once you saw his dick today you knew you weren’t gonna be satisfied until you got your chance to cum on it.

“Babe,” Chuuya says again, helping you readjust until your head is at his shoulder and you’d be able to look at each other or even kiss if you wanted-- not that Dazai would let you.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Sluggy dearest,” Dazai says, swiping some of his cum off of your thigh and spreading it over Chuuya’s tip. “You’ll never see her again after today, so don’t go falling in love with my girl or I really will have to kill you.”

“Like you could ever do that,” Chuuya snaps back. “I’d beat you to a pulp, even without gravity manipulation.”

“Bold talk for a man with my cum on his dick,” Dazai says in an overly playful tone with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Dude, what?! You’re a freak, why did you do that?!”

“It’s gonna get on you anyway, dumbass,” Dazai says. He slides two fingers into you easily, your pussy still being open and wet and so needy for more. He collects some of his cum and your arousal, completely mixed together and unable to discern one from the other. You give a little whine at his fingers in you, and especially at them leaving you, and then Chuuya’s breath hitches and even though you can’t see, you’re pretty sure Dazai is rubbing your slick over his dick.

“Fuck,” Chuuya sighs, and you look over at his face. At first it seems like his eyes are closed, but then you realize he’s just looking at Dazai, and you look down and see Dazai smirking and giving absolute bedroom eyes at Chuuya. Your pussy clenches around nothing, another surge of arousal making you squirm.

Chuuya’s hands grip your hips, and Dazai’s eyes shift to you and he chuckles.

“What is it, baby? Use your words.”

“You’re so hot… both of you.”

“Oh, thank you,” Chuuya purrs in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“You think so?” Dazai asks, and you feel something tap against your pussy. You look down and manage to catch that Dazai’s hand is still around Chuuya’s cock, moving it now, making it touch you.

“Yeah,” you moan softly, biting your lip.

“You want Chuuya to fuck you?”

“Mhm…” you hum, nodding. Chuuya chuckles softly and lets one hand roam upward over your skin until he’s palming and kneading your breast. 

“He'll do a good job, too. Won't you Chuuya?” Dazai asks, rubbing Chuuya's dick between the folds of your cunt.

“I'm gonna fuck you so good.” He sighs at the stimulation, his hips bucking up slightly. “Better than that shitty mackerel does, I bet.”

“No chance in hell,” Dazai sneers.

“Let me show her. I'll prove it.” Chuuya bucks his hips up again, trying to get his dick to slip inside. 

“No chance--”

“--Please,” you moan, cutting Dazai off. His face changes from glaring to surprise.

“Oh? You want to find out if he’s better than me?” he asks bitterly, smacking Chuuya’s dick against your pussy.

“No, I want him to fuck me,” you whine.

“That’s not what it sounded like to me.” Dazai frowns, gloom overcoming him.

“Make her cum before I do then, jackass,” Chuuya says, largely ignoring Dazai as he plays with your tits. “Prove you’re better than me.”

“Make me cum, Dazai. Let me use Chuuya like a fuck toy.”

“God damn,” Chuuya says, bucking his hips up again. “I know that’s all I am, but fuck.”

“Yeah…” Dazai’s frown slowly turns to a smirk. “He is just a fuck toy. A big fuck toy that’s gonna fill you up with cum just how you like.” As you and Chuuya give Dazai identical confused looks, Dazai points Chuuya’s cock at your hole and guides him in. The tip drags against your inner walls so well and has you moaning and grinding down on him.

“Go, Slug. Fuck my girl.”

Chuuya’s hips immediately start thrusting up into you. He braces his feet on the floor to get a better angle and he loses himself fucking you. 

“Holy fuck you’re wet,” he huffs. “So fucking good.”

“Oh, yeah,” you moan, reaching up and around to hold the side of his head. “Oh, fuck. Chuuya.”

Dazai tries not to react to the way you moan Chuuya’s name and caress him. It’ll be over soon and he’s not about to let his jealousy take away from the incredibles view he has of your pussy being rammed by a nice, thick cock-- not that he’d ever say those words out loud for Slug to hear. 

He kneels between yours and Chuuya’s legs and runs his hands across your abdomen and belly and near your cunt, calculating how long he think the two of you are gonna last. He knows you’re already sensitive from cumming with him before, and Chuuya hasn’t cum yet at all, so maybe if Dazai gets your pussy clenching around him it’ll be over within five minutes tops.

Dazai leans down with that plan in mind and without impeding Chuuya’s thrusting, he gets his face right up to your cunt and uses the tip of his tongue to circle your clit. You whimper and buck your hips up, then push them back down to meet Chuuya. Dazai doesn’t even need to spit on you-- you’re plenty wet enough-- but he does it anyway, landing a glob right on your swollen clit. He uses the excess wetness to have his tongue gliding effortlessly in circles around your nub. Finally he gets your attention again, and you moan his name. The hand that isn’t in Chuuya’s hair slides down into Dazai’s, and he relaxes a bit now that you’re touching him.

The combination of Chuuya fucking you from behind and Dazai’s tongue now flicking relentlessly back and forth over your clit-- all the wet sounds, the smell of Chuuya’s cologne, his moaning in your ear, his hands still tweaking and playing with your incredibly over-sensitive nipples-- it’s too much. You can’t even talk; you can’t tell either one how you feel, how good they are. You can hardly moan, most of what comes out of you being only broken, stuttery noises thanks to the way Chuuya’s movements wrack your whole body and control the way even your breathing works right now.

I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna make it. you think, but you’re unable to warn either one of them. Chuuya must know it’s coming from the way your cunt clenches around him. He hisses and turns his head so his lips hover over your nose, moaning your name right at you.

Finally it happens when Dazai sucks on your clit and pushes a finger into your tight cunt alongside Chuuya’s cock. It’s overwhelming. There’s too much happening, too much going on from the both of them. You’re completely dumb on Chuuya’s cock, complete putty in Dazai’s hands.

You cum hard, arching your back up to let Chuuya fuck you deeper if possible. You squirt profusely, drenching Dazai’s mouth and getting a surprised chuckle from him.

“Good girl,” he praises, but you barely hear it over the way Chuuya shouts a string of swears next to your face. His hands finally leave your tits and grip your hips hard. He only thrusts a few more times before he’s cumming too, painting the inside of your cunt white for the second time. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Chuuya chants as he comes down, his movements slowing until he’s finally completely still. Dazai sits up and smiles a shit-eating grin at you.

“We made her squirt, Slug. Did you feel it?”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans, dropping his head back and turning it away from you. “I’m not cleaning that shit up, though.”

“Did you cum inside…?” you ask quietly as Dazai starts maneuvering Chuuya’s softening dick out of you.

“He said to,” Chuuya says flippantly.

“Think about it, baby,” Dazai says. “There’s no way his shitty little swimmers will beat mine. If you get pregnant, that's gonna be my baby in there.”

“It’s only ‘cause you’re a shitty mackerel. Fish swim.”

[141shousewife]

husband Price x Plus size reader drabble >:)

this is my first post so don't eat me please

FULLY INSPIRED BY @391780

Have yall seen that tiktok where a wife is going around her house showing all the different things her husband has done to the house to make her life easier? this but husband!price

I am so not normal about price being your husband and making it his JOB to make your home comfortable, welcoming, and for you.

He definitely when looking for houses immediately looked for large kitchen islands with enough space for him to dice up veggies and for you to sit your round bottom and put all of your weight on next to his cutting board.

Price immediately put metal holders into the wall in every room so you could put up charger/headphones after you complained about how you always misplace them. :))

After realizing that you fall asleep with your glasses on far too often he put a holder on his side of the bed for when he inevitably pulls your glasses off of your dozed off face and doesn't want to crush your plush body as he reaches over you to toss it on the nightstand.

In the living room price has a chair that he lovingly chose, bought, added memory foam, re-upholstered in your favorite color, and placed in your favorite spot to watch TV in the living room.

Price takes pride in the fact that he personally installed a plush and wide bench in the shower for you to rest on to help with your back pain from carrying around such a large chest all day.

When you ask him why he went through all the trouble of customizing a house he already spent so much on he just scoffs and replies-

"Can't believe you thought i'd let my best girl have anything but the best! How lowly do you think of me sweetheart?" and presses a warm kiss to your cheek.

:>>>

[scarletwinterxx]

but on a wednesday in a cafe i watched it begin again - kim mingyu imagine

hiiiii - okay i'm so so so inlove with this one. may i say this is half inspired by real life scenarios haha anyways i hope you like it!

alsooo just a thought, would anyone want to be mutuals on X?

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

10 years ago

"Kyeom, I'm gonna go. I have assignments to do"

"What noooo, the game's just about to start" he mutters, he even kick feet like a little kid

"Then stay, but I'm going" you didn't even give him a chance to say anything because you're already out the gym doors. Your bestfriend used to your attitude at this point, he lets you be.

You pull your bag on your shoulders as you walk towards the school gates, some students were also on their way out since classes are done. Just as you were about to exit, someone calls your name making you look back.

When you spot who was calling you, confusion took over your face. Wondering why Kim Mingyu is here running after you when he should be inside with the basketball team.

"Hey, glad I caught you" he smiles at you.

Kim Mingyu, the guy who's known across all campus. He's the star student, all the teachers like him, he's never missed a class, he's good at studying, never the troublemaker, has a big circle of friends and an even bigger number of admirers from all across the school.

"What's up, do you need something?" you nonchalantly replied but that didn't deter him one bit

"Yea uh actually I wanted to ask you out" he scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes as he waits for your answer

"Me?"

"Yea, I like you"

"Oh uh thanks. But I'm not really looking for that type of thing right now"

You watch the smile fall from MIngyu's face before it comes back again, it doesn't quite reach his eyes though. You notice.

"Oh"

"Yeah, sorry but uhm goodluck on your game though. I'm gonna go now" you wave goodbye before going your way. Not once turning to look back where Mingyu was left standing.

The rest of your high school life flew by like that. You still mostly kept to yourself, a few close friends, never really wanting to have any eyes on you. Mingyu never contacted you after that. You two acted like strangers once again, his confession something only you and him know.

Present Day

"Did you get the invite?" Dokyeom asks the moments he enters your apartment. After all these years, he's still your bestfriends. Most of your 'friends' from high school you've already lost contact with, you realized you were only friends with them only because you saw them everyday. Not many of them really made the effort to keep in contact, you can't blame them though since you didn't either.

But that's life. People come and go.

"For?"

"Our high school reunion, please tell me you're going"

"I did get it, and no I'm not going"

"What? Why? It'll be fun" he still does this thing where he stomps his feet like a kid when you say no to him, annoying but he's your bestfriend so you learned to put up with it.

"I don't even talk to anyone from high school apart from you"

"I'll be there, you can talk to me" he weakly reasons out, trying to plead with you is like trying to move a cement brick wall. He knows it's a losing battle but he still tries anyways.

"You won't stop bugging me unless I go, won't you?"

"You know me too well"

"Fine, but I'm not staying long"

"3 hours tops"

"2, take it or leave it"

Leave it to Dokyeom to make sure you're actually coming because by 5pm the day of the reunion, he came to your apartment even though you're taking your own car since you don't plan on staying as long as him.

"Oh you actually got ready" he says when you open the door

"I don't want another long message from you, let's go before I change my mind"

The two of you drove separately to the venue, as an introvert you admit when you got there you already want to go home. You see the familiar faces, already dreading the amount of small talks you have to do for the rest of the night. Cursing Dokyeom in your mind.

Your bestfriend didn't even give you a chance to step back inside your car before he's pulling you inside, saying hello to everyone on your way in. He's always been the nicer one between the two of you.

The two of you grab some snacks and drinks before continuing on meddling with your former schoolmates. Your social battery draining drastically by the second when you hear Dokyeom almost scream from beside you,

"Kim Mingyu! Yo dude you made it"

You look over where Dokyeom went, watching him give a bro hug to the guy. There Kim Mingyu stands, still as handsome as ever. A lot of years passed by but he still looks the same, just even better now.

The years have indeed been kind to him.

With everything happening around you, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. A few moments away from sneaking out but Dokyeom catches you once again before you can even give it a try

"Y/N's here too, you remember Mingyu right?"

You wanted to step on your bestfriend's shoes to make him shut up but instead you just shoot him a tight lipped smile before turning to the taller guy,

"Hi"

"Hey, it's been a while. I haven't seen you since... graduation"

"Yea, you too"

End of conversation.

You're still the same, Mingyu thinks. You're still the same girl he liked back then, you're still just as hard to read, still answering with single sentences, still beautiful like the day you broke his heart.

He wonders how you've been since then. Are you dating anyone or are you still out there breaking other guys' heart with your cold demeanor. He's still friends with Dokyeom and last he heard you've been doing okay. No mention of a boyfriend.

You don't give him a chance to ask any question, you say something to Dokyeom before walking towards the door

"Is she alright?" he can't help but ask

"Oh yea, she's being her usual self. It's a miracle I even got her to go tonight so I won't even be surprised if she's about to sneak home now, I'll just call her later"

"You two still close?"

"She's my bestfriend, dude. Of course we are, we're like twins ya know. Anyways how's the cafe going"

Mingyu hangs out with Dokyeom for the rest of the night, they didn't really run out of things to catch up on. He can't help but wonder how two very different people manage to stay close friends. But then again it's Dokyeom, one of the nicest guy he knows. At the end of the day, he's glad you're friends with someone like him.

The next day Dokyeom calls you to bombard you with stories about the reunion that you missed when you came home, he goes on and on about catching up with Mingyu then some other people from your batch you don't even talk to anymore but you listen anyways.

After the phone call, you get ready to go to work. You go on with your routine and before you know it you're done with your 9-5. That goes on for the rest of the week.

Some people hate it but you liked having a routine, it drives you crazy when things don't go your way.

Like tonight, your workmates all but forced you to come with them for afterwork drinks. You wanted to decline but you already done so many times so they made sure you come with them this time.

"Okay okay so what if you're in a room full of all the people you ever liked, who would you go to?"

Everyone take turns to answer until all head turns to you, "Oh me?"

"Yea, come on spill the details girlie we won't tell" one of your workmate jokes, clearly drunk

You take a few more seconds to think before you say your answer

"I guess this guy I rejected in high school"

"What? Oh my gosh whoooo, tell us tell us what happened" they excitedly ask

"Oh no big deal, just a guy. He was nice, like really nice. I liked that about him, but uh I guess high school me wasn't ready for any kind of commitment so I rejected him. I choose him because I want to apologize, that's all"

"Aw did you hear that? that's so cuteee"

"So where is he now?"

"I don't know, I never really kept in touch"

You grab your glass so you can avoid any more questions, after an hour to tell them goodbye since you still have to go to work tomorrow.

And as expected you woke up with a slight headache, even though you wanted to stay in bed for the day you know you can't. You get up and get ready for the day, planning to stop by this cafe your workmates keep on mentioning on your way to work.

Good things it's still early, when you got the cafe there were only a few people inside. You can smell the freshly brewed coffee and pastries on the stand.

"Next, Hi goodmorning what can I get you?"

"Hi, can I get an iced Vanilla Latte and a bagel with cream cheese to go? Thank you" you say your order while the cashier notes it down "Okay, for a moment I'll just get your order ready"

"Sure" you wait on the counter for your order, checking the other pastries and the menu board.

Mingyu was at the back, getting some stocks ready for the day when he spots someone on the counter. He had to do a double take to make sure it was you standing in his cafe, immediately a smile forming on his face as he watch you look at the display case.

You're too lost in your own world to notice him now standing Infront of you so he clears his throat to get your attention, "Can I get you something else, see anything you like?" he asks

He can see you weren't expecting to see him here, out of all places.

What in the twisted fate was this, you think to yourself.

"Oh uh the other barista already took my order" you tell him, Mingyu goes to the other guy telling him something before returning to the register with your order, "One iced vanilla latte and bagel with cream cheese, here you go. Anything else?" he asks again

"I think this is all for now, so how much?"

"On the house" Mingyu says with a smile, makes you wonder if he does this on a regular basis but you shake the thought away.

"What? No, come on I'll feel bad. Tell me how much" you tell Mingyu but he just shakes his head at you

"Free coffee for the pretty lady"

"Do you tell all your lady customers that?" you ask him, the words already out before you can stop yourself. You can feel your cheeks heat up but Mingyu just chuckles, again he shakes his head

"Just you, tell me next time how's our coffee and baked goods are then we'll call it even" he tells you, pointing at the suggestion box

"Are you sure? My workmates recommended this place and they said the coffee is good but I never really went with them" you tell him,

"You work close by?"

"A few blocks from here, I sometimes pass by here but it's always so busy. I guess I got lucky today"

All this time you were this close to where he was and he never knew. Mingyu mentally agrees with you, indeed it is a lucky day because for the first time since he met you you finally said more than one sentence to him.

17 year old Mingyu would be pouting and kicking his feet out of jealousy, he would never believe this day would come but here you are.

"Thank you for the coffee and food, uh see you around"

"You too, Y/N. It's nice to see you again" he smile again, you shoot him a small smile before going your way.

He watches you go out the door, the scene of you walking away hitting him like a Deja vu. A scene from 10 years go playing in head. Just as you were about to exit the door, to turn around to look at him behind the counter then shoot him another smile then you were gone.

This time though Mingyu wasn't left with a heart to mend but something to look forward to. Maybe just maybe this time it'll be his chance.

"You're down bad" Hoshi, his co-owner and other barista, says from beside him

"Huh?"

"Really?? Coffee for the pretty lady? so original" he laughs

"What? I never used that on anyone" Mingyu mumbles, "I know, that's why I said you're down bad. Who is she by the way?"

"Someone very special, call me when she comes back" he pats Hoshi on the shoulder before going to the back to resume his re-stocking duties.

Mingyu didn't want to expect (but he was), he would be lying if he didn't tell Hoshi he'd open tomorrow and man the register just in case you come in early again. He would be lying if he says he looked up every time the bell dings signaling another customer came in only it wasn't you.

It took you a few days before you visited again, and this time luck wasn't on Mingyu's side because he was not on duty.

"Hey, you're Mingyu's friend" Hoshi remembers you from the other day, greeting you with a big smile making his eyes almost disappear. He seems like a warm person, very friendly.

"Yeah, you can say that" you shyly answer him "Oh right sorry, what can I get you?"

"I'll get another iced vanilla latte. The last one you made was really good" you tell him

"Thanks, make sure to drop that inside our box" he jokes "Anything else?"

"Can you recommend any pastry for me to try? They all look so good"

"Honestly, not to be biased, everything's good here but that chocolate cake is extra special. Mingyu makes it himself everyday, want a slice?"

"Sure, sounds great"

Hoshi, you learn his name, goes and make your order like before then returns to the counter "Okay here you go, and the man says it's on the house"

"Huh?" you ask confused "Mingyu said it's on the house if ever you come back"

"Oh I can not not pay, he already said that the last time" you said, already getting your card out

"No really, he insists. And between us, I'd be in bigger trouble if I let you pay. If you want to scold him, feel free to do so and drop it in the box"

You chuckle, finally taking your drink and food "Thanks again, let me write something" you seat on a vacant chair to get a paper from inside your bag, writing a quick note before going back to the counter to drop it in the box. You say goodbye to Hoshi before going.

You feel your phone ring in your pocket, Dokyeom's name flashing on the screen "Barbeque later"

"Are you asking or are you telling me?"

"I'll come by after work" then he hangs up.

A few hours later, your bestfriend shows up with a few grocery bags and a loud mouth. You two catch up on what you missed on the few days you didn't get to talk, he likes staying up to date with your life even though nothing really ever happens. He's like the brother you never expected but you're now stuck with.

"Do you have any sweets here, chocolate or something" you hear him scrummaging through your kitchen

"I have a cake slice in the fridge"

Dokyeom finds it then walks back to the dining table, setting it in the middle to share between the two of you

"Oh gosh this is so good, where did you buy this?"

"At Mingyu's cafe, did you know he had one?" you ask back, Dokyeom's head springs up to look at you

"You went there? Mingyu did mention he had a cafe. So you two talked?"

"Yea he was there the first time I went, it was really nice the coffee is good. The other barista said Mingyu baked this" you tell him, taking another bite

"You know, you never told me why you rejected him"

Dokyeom suddenly mentioning that made you cough out loud, "You said you liked him right? Then all of a sudden you were telling me you rejected him"

"Are we really talking about this? It's been 10 years"

"Yea"

"Like I said, I didn't have the time and I got overwhelmed. Everyone knew who Mingyu was, I didn't want that kind of attention on me too. I guess 17 year old me got scared"

Dokyeom listens to you, watching you stab the piece of cake before taking a bite "For what it's worth, he really liked you back then. He even asked me what your favorites were, I said you liked cakes more than ice cream"

Back at the cafe, Mingyu comes in after Hoshi closes so he can start on baking tomorrow's batch of cake. He's in the kitchen getting the ingredients ready while Hoshi cleans the display case and front of the house.

He was humming to himself when he hears the kitchen door swing open, "Oh by the way Y/N dropped by today"

Mingyu forgets the number he was on, now he has to measure the flour all over again. He turns to look at his friend with an annoyed expression, Hoshi holds his hands in the air

"Hey don't blame me, not my fault she went here on your only day off. But I did say it's on the house courtesy of you, so you're welcome"

"Atleast you did something right" Mingyu says

"And she got the chocolate cake, she also dropped something in the box. Go check it when you're done, I'm going now" he waves goodbye before going to the office to do a few more things before leaving Mingyu alone at the shop.

He tries to focus first on what he's doing, going back to measuring the ingredients and putting it in the oven before going to the counter to get the box.

How will find your note here when there's about 30 others in here, he's not so sure. He reads through a few of them when finally he finds one

Coffee is great, maybe even better with company. On me next time I come back, thanks Gyu :)

He knows it's from you because of the nickname, a lot of people from highschool used to call him that. It may be common but it sounded extra special when you're the one calling him that. He takes the note and put it in his pocket before putting the others back.

Tonight's cake about to be extra good.

When Mingyu comes in the shop the next day he was expecting you to come, he wasn't going to lie about it this time.

It might seem silly but he never really got over his crush on you. There's something about you that he admired so much, even though people said you're the 'ice queen' with your stoic expression and one line answers he thinks you're just always straight to the point.

He never harbored hard feelings even after you rejected him, he understood your reasons. He knew you were focused on your studies but he just wanted to shoot his shot.

That day when he asked you, he already saw you in the gym before the game. He thought you were going to watch only for you to disappear a few minutes before they started, he chased after you with high hopes only to be handed his heart back in a few pieces. But even then he still liked you, he continued on admiring you from afar. Cheering you on your academic victories and cheering for you on your graduation day when you gave out your valedictorian speech.

He liked watching you achieve your goals, you always had that laser focus and determination. The entire class knew you deserved it.

Now a decade later, you're still the same in some ways. The night during the reunion party, he didn't expect to see you there. You didn't age a day, you still look so beautiful. You now carry this confident but reserved aura around you, he admits he was a bit intimidated to approach you so he thanks Dokyeom for being there.

The day passed by and still no sign of you, when he turns the open sign over to close he lets out the biggest sigh. Looking at the last slice of cake on the stand, ironically very similar to him. Waiting for you to come by.

He's busy mopping the floors to notice he didn't lock the front door, you just got out of work and decided to check if the cafe was still open. The sign said closed but you spot Mingyu inside so you try to knock on the glass door but he couldn't hear you so you let yourself in.

You walk closer to where he was before tapping him on the back making the tall man jump up in the air with mop in hand.

Mingyu turns around, holding his hand to his chest as he looks at you blinking back at him "Fuck you scared the shit out of me, sorry" he mumbles the apology after letting a few curses out

"Sorry, I didn't mean too. I knocked but you couldn't hear. Uhm is it a bad time?"

"No, I mean no it's good. I was just cleaning up. Do you want anything?" he asks you, putting the mop in the bucket before walking towards the counter with you following. He stands by the cashier while you stand on the other side

You spot the last piece of cake like it's calling your name, Mingyu following your gaze. Smiling to himself while he waits for your order.

"I'll get the last piece of chocolate cake, please. Hoshi recommended it yesterday and it was really food. Glad I got the last one" you smile

Little did you know he made that recipe with you in mind. He knew you liked chocolate cakes. "Chocolate cake coming up, anything else? Our cookies are good too, let me get some for you"

"As long as you let me pay for it"

"Not a chance, miss" Mingyu smirks, putting the remaining cookies in a box along with the cake before walking back to face you

"Not this again, you already got it for me the last few times I was here. How will you run a business if you keep on giving it out for free"

"I don't always do it" Mingyu shrugs

"Just let me pay please" you say giving him your card but he just pushes it back

"No"

"Mingyu"

He smiles, looking over at you. For a second you were taken back by his stare. The only way you can describe it was sweet, he looked so sweet like the cake he baked. He looked so soft and gentle like he wouldn't break a heart.

"Come back next time, I'll let you pay"

"You said that the last time"

"Then keep coming back, maybe one day I'll let you" he confidently tells you, the underlying message of wanting to see you again lies in the air. He holds his breath waiting for your next words,

"If you don't let me pay the next time, I won't come back" you threaten him cutely, finally taking the bag from him. Mingyu smiles walking to the other side to walk you out.

Before you reach the door you stop, "Actually, there's something I need to tell you" you turn to look up at him

"Go ahead, I'm listening"

You take a few seconds, again surprised with how he's staring right at you. Like he's seeing all of you.

"I would like to apologize for what happened before, you know the whole rejection thing. I know it's a bit overdue, actually it's very overdue but I've always wanted to say sorry. Someone asked me if I was in a room full of all the people I liked, who would I run to I said you. That's because I wanted to say sorry... so yea. I'm sorry" you mumble, now you're looking at his chest. Too shy to look at him

"You like me?" Mingyu mumbles

This make you look at him again, "That's all you heard?"

"I mean I appreciate the thought, apology accepted. Now back to my question.. I heard that right, right?"

"You're not wrong"

You and your one liner answers.

"So how many are there in the room" he asks, now he's teasing you. You can't help but scowl at him, rolling your eyes.

"It's a very short list and you're missing my point"

"No I get it, and no need to apologize. I respect your decision back then and I still do now. No need to say sorry over that, no hard feelings" he smiles at you.

Mingyu wanted to reach out and hold your hand but he stops himself. He didn't want to mess this again with you, if this is finally his second chance then he's not going to do anything to mess it up.

"I really am, it's been 10 years but I just wanted to tell you that. So yea.. that's uh that's all"

"Can I ask something?"

"What?" you ask back "Who else would be in the room with me, do I know the others"

"Oh my gosh! It's a very short list"

He laughs at your answer, reaching up to tuck the loose hair than fell on your face behind your ear.

"I believe you, tell me about it next time you get coffee"

"Seriously making me rethink about coming back here" you pout, this made Mingyu's heart pound like crazy. A hundred shots of espresso got nothing on you. Only you can make him feel this way, so alive.

"I'll bake you a cake" he bargains

"Chocolate?"

"All yours, on the house"

[bloodybreakupscene]

-> 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊

miles morales x reader

-> miles having a crush on a bakery worker!! r y'all soulmates or what? (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

-> idea was cute and also i just [re]watched both movies so plz send requests pretty please >__< !! totally not inspired by the song she lives on my block by chicano batman

"miles! can you pick up the—" rio, miles' mother, called from the kitchen, she was currently on the phone with someone as she was cooking.

"the cake? yeah i got it!" he unintentionally interrupted his mom while he walked downstairs putting his jacket on. his footsteps on the stairs making a squeaking sound as he traveled down.

"aye, this boy. be quick, your father will be home soon!" she ushered miles out the door, father's day was today and they wanted to do something special for him.

just before he exits his apartment he grabs his bag, waving 'bye' to his mom. he runs as quickly as he can down the stairs so he can reach the bakery faster. he contemplates putting his suit on and swinging to the location instead but he didn't feel like changing.

miles puts his headphones on and saunters hurriedly through the crowds of people that seemed to come out of nowhere. he sees some people he knows and waves to them, making small conversations with some. just as he reaches the bakery door, he checks himself out in one of the windows.

'i got this,' he thinks as he fixes his outfit and hair in the mirror. his thoughts stop as one of the workers sprays cleaner on the window, wiping the area where his face was. they looked at him confused with an eyebrow raised and all he could respond with was an awkward smile, before walking in.

he shoves his hands in his pocket and walks towards the register where you were working, you looked up from the cash you were counting and instead, at him. he looks at you with lidded eyes as he leaned on the counter, smiling at you. not sure what the hell he was doing you asked,

"uh miles, do you need something?"

his expression changes and his normal happy expression was back, "oh, yeah! i'm here to pick up a cake for rio morales?"

"alright!" you proceeded into the back to look for a cake with the label rio morales, who you recognized to be miles' mom, who came in every once in while

as he saw you walk away he face palmed. 'what am i doing!? i can't do this.' he was sweating so bad, he just really liked you, if that wasn't obvious already. the other worker saw how nervous he was and walked up to him.

"miles."

"huh—? how do you know my name?" he questioned.

"same physics class? i sit next to you. . . ?" the worker said, slightly annoyed.

"oh yeah, yeah, i remember."

"you're trying too hard."

"excuse me?"

"you like (name) right?" worker dude, miles' forgotten classmate, states in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "they like you too, trust, just be you, man."

"okay, i got the cake, sorry it took kinda long, we have a ton of other orders." you laughed a bit at the end of your sentence as miles turned away from worker dude, who went back to cleaning.

"nah it's good, uh, totally random question…but are you free next sunday?" he says, taking the dessert from your hands.

"yeah," you said rather quietly before clearing your throat, "yeah, yeah i am, uh, why?"

"there's this movie i've been wanting to see for awhile, i got two tickets but ganke couldn't go, said something about working on a final." he smiles, holding the cake with one arm and fiddling with the zipper of his jacket with his other.

"oh! yeah i'd like to go." you responded, big smile plastered across your face.

"great, that's good, i'll text you the time, i could go over to your place! and we can walk there together." miles exclaims, an even bigger smile on his face.

"that sounds nice, can't wait." you giggled.

miles smiles, "well i got to go now, my mom's probably waiting for me." he begins to walk backwards confidently, before bumping into a table, almost knocking a napkin holder over, however he quickly grabbed it before it fell. he shoots you an awkward smile as he runs out the door.

"y'all are so corny." the worker rolls their eyes, putting the cleaning supplies away.

"you're just mad no one's asked you out yet." you shot back.

miles finally got back to his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

"miles?"

he sighed, looking up at the ceiling before turning around and facing both his parents.

"hi mamí, dad." he proceeds towards the table they sat at and put the cake down. "happy father's day!"

"why were you home so late? the bakery's what? ten minutes away? it's been an hour." rio asked, concerned.

"what's going on with you miles?" his father, jeff, said, backing up his wife.

"nothing! i was just, you know, talking with people!"

his mother gasped, both miles and jeff looked at her nervously.

"you were talking to that bakery worker, weren't you!"

"what–? miles, what's she talking about?" his father asks, confused.

"no i wasn—"

"our little boy's got a crush on that nice worker at the bakery! i always see his eyes turn into hearts when they walk by."

they both laugh aside from miles, who frowns and takes a seat, arms crossed.

[fayes-fics]

Rescue and Ruin

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony rescues something for you... and it will likely lead to your ruin.

Warnings: None really. Flirting, sexual tension, banter, and the promise of more. A lot of teasing, soaking wet Viscount.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Unbetaed. Very belated request fill for @daisfordaysstuff (request:  I’m rewatching season 2 again, and I think I need one on this scene [lake Anthony]). I just had to post an Anthony story today to commemorate the birthday of Jonathan Bailey, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. This is actually my oldest request fill, lingering in my inbox since Sept 2022. Sorry, my lovely; I hope late is better than never. I just got an idea of how I wanted this to play out. I hope you enjoy <3

“I’ll get it!”

A chivalrous call comes as you watch in dismay as your favourite bonnet take off in a gust of wind and flies over the lake, landing almost gracefully about twenty feet out into the gently rippling water.

You had just stolen down to the water's edge to get away from the crowds for a few moments of solitude, drawn to the beauty of the water as the sun danced on the little peaks caused by the gusty breeze. It had looked like a shimmering mirage from the terrace.

You are shocked when the one and only Viscount Anthony Bridgerton gives you a brief, polite nod as he passes you, then dives off a little jetty, still fully clothed, making you gasp loudly.

What on earth?!?

This is his garden party. Well, strictly his mother's, but he is Viscount, and this is the Bridgerton family country estate, Aubrey Hall. You are still awestruck to be here, a guest of your maternal aunt you are staying with here in Kent. Why on earth he would dive into his lake to rescue something as trivial as a hat seems mystifying. You are certain he has staff that could assist rather than take it upon himself and quite clearly ruin his outfit.

He re-emerges to the surface from his dive and swims with awe-inspiring speed towards your hat as it skates across the surface, propelling along not unlike some toy boat. When he finally reaches it, he holds it aloft triumphant and twists to swim back one-handed as he keeps it above the water.

You find yourself drawn down to the jetty he jumped off of. To give your thanks, express your surprise, and take back your hat and hope it is salvageable. You twist around to check, but all the other party guests seem oblivious to the incident or his actions, the string quartet playing so loudly closer to the house and the buffet table so laden everyone's eyes and ears are preoccupied.

“Thank you, my lord,” you demure as he pulls up to the jetty and places your bonnet on the wooden slats by your feet. “That was completely unnecessary, but I am, of course, so very grateful,” you curtsy and pick up the bonnet.

Luckily, thanks to his swift actions, it will be fine. Just the brim and lower edge touched the water. You wring out the soaked ribbons as best you can, then wrap them around your neck and tie them in a secure bow. It may be too wet to wear on your head for now, but at least it should dry while tied securely and draped down over your back. You curtsy again as you feel him watching you, unsure what else to do to convey your gratitude.

He laughs, and you see him fighting with the buttons on his jacket, still standing in the lake, the water around waist height. “There is no need to curtsy or to be so formal Miss…?” he squints up at you expectantly.

“Oh, it's Miss y/l/n,” you rush out and, for some reason, curtsy again.

“I mean it; please stop curtsying, especially to a man in such a state as me,” he says drolly, fighting off his jacket and tossing it, sodden and heavy, onto the jetty.

You are blatantly staring as he peels away his waistcoat and fights with his cravat. His thin cotton white shirt has turned entirely transparent in the water; it is barely there. Under it, you can see so much skin, toned and rippling muscle as his jerking movements strip off his clothing. Over his chest is a patch of dark hair clinging to the material you cannot look away from. You have never even so much as seen how a man looks without a shirt on before, and this sight makes your heart pound and your body tingle.

Glancing up from his actions, the corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know he has caught you—openly ogling him. Your cheeks are aflame, and you cut your eyes away.

“You may look, Miss y/l/n,” his pitch has dropped to something low and velvety, and it buzzes right into your core. Hesitantly your eyes dart back to his handsome face; the lip quirk spreads into a devastating, stunning smile. “It is alright; no one has marked us,” he assures, his gaze cutting to your right towards the house, then back to your face. “You shall not have broken any rules of propriety by talking with me. Or staring at me as you are,” he teases, an eyebrow arching appealingly.

“My lord, that is not what….” You begin to protest, knowing it's a lie even as you voice it; your reflex to appear chaste is so crucial to your need to find a match that your aunt and parents are so desperate for you to make.

But your words die out as he places both hands firmly on the dock and propels himself up and out of the water in one swift, athletic move. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as he unfurls upwards from the kneeling position, drawing up to his full height. Water sluices down his body and makes his clothing cling to every single contour of his toned, defined torso. He looms closer; you tilt backwards, entranced by the tracks of droplets over the lines of his handsome face, his burned umber eyes catching the sunlight and boring into you as he crowds closer.

“Do not lie to yourself or to me, Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles, “we both know you were and, indeed, continue to stare”.

His words make your body riot; your stays feel too tight for your lungs to breathe, your skin pricking hot. He’s so close now you can smell the vaguely mossy lake smell on his skin, on what little clothing he has left on; it’s dancing there on the breeze alongside something spicier and amber that you can only assume is his cologne. You want to stutter an apology, to offer your thanks again, to ask him to leave, to ask him to stay, to ask him to touch you—so many jumbled, contradictory thoughts.

“The more pertinent question is, do you like what you see?” he murmurs and leans in, his words ghosting warm on the shell of your ear.

This is the sort of thing your aunt has warned you about. Rakes. Handsome, wealthy, titled men who will tease and take what they can from young, innocent ladies such as yourself. You want to be affronted, tell him to desist, and give him a scathing remark about appropriate behaviour. But once again, you don't. Your body drawn to him, you want to trace your fingers over the swell of his chest muscles, to feel those strong arms grab your waist and haul you against his sodden form.

“No answer is, in some ways, an answer,” he chuckles with a lilt that is both arrogant and devastatingly attractive.

“My lord, we may be seen at any moment…” Your protest is weak and breathy, not moving away as he continues to stand far too close to you, as lake water drips onto your shoes.

Suddenly a clammy hand wraps around your elbow, and you are being pulled towards the nearby cluster of thick trees and bushes that abut the lake. You almost stumble and smack into him face-first as he pulls up short and releases your arm. The air feels cooler here, with dappled shade, verdant and alive with the scent of flowering bushes and leaves. The view of the house and, indeed, the party guests is wholly obscured. No one would ever know you are here.

“Do you have an answer now that we cannot be seen?” he breathes inches from you, towering over you.

“My lord… I,” you cannot find words, hanging your head. You know this is wrong. Very wrong. Your aunt would kill you for being this wanton, for allowing him to do this to you. And yet…. Every fibre of your being wants this. To see what he will do. To see what you will let him do. You suspect it's more than you even understand.

“Say it after me….” he intones, a finger tilting your chin up to look into his fiery gaze.

“I…” he begins.

“I…” you parrot.

“Like…”

“Like,” you repeat, and the grin on his face grows wider.

“What….”

“What,” your breath quickening with each word.

“I…”

“I,” that finger still lingers under your chin, caressing gently.

“See.”

“See,” you exhale shakily.

“There. Now was that so hard…hmmm?” he teases, that finger now joined by his thumb stroking over the point of your chin, the lake water running down his forearm to the point of material bunched under his elbow that now drips down the front of your dress. The dampness seeps through the material and into your heated skin.

The cord of tension in the air is palpable. You don't know what to say or what to do.

“I have another question for you,” he buzzes, and the fingers on your chin slip lower, over your throat, lighting a line of fire as they trail over your delicate skin. Your pulse pounding in your veins. You swallow hard and feel the calloused fingertips trace into your suprasternal notch. “Maybe this one you can answer,” he huffs a sarcastic laugh as your body spirals and you fight to keep your breath even.

“What is it, my lord?” your voice barely a whisper.

“Would you be willing to help me, your gracious host today, get dry?” he practically purrs.

“How…. how on earth could I do that?” you stumble.

He smiles predatory and so handsome you give up and let your chest heave, ragged breathing.

“Under your dress, you wear a chemise, do you not?” he continues, those fingers tracing over the wet bow of your bonnet strings tied over your clavicle.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer shakily.

“Well did you know such items can be an excellent towel in a pinch,” he shrugs one shoulder and lifts an eyebrow as his fingers slip lower over your breastbone until they reach the neckline of your dress, at the swell of your breast.

There is no point in pretending he is not utterly destroying you now. You can’t school anything—the blush darkening over your skin, creeping up from your chest, the tingle in your lips, the hot flush you feel all over. A viscous pulse in your underwear that feels entirely alien and where your decision-making seems to be centred at right this very moment.

“So I suppose my last question, for now, is, are you willing to give it to me?” you gasp at his turn of phrase as those fingers swirl patterns over the neckline of your dress. “Your chemise, of course,” he amends with a wink.

Utter, utter rake.

“H-how can I give you my chemise without removing my dress too?” you wonder aloud.

“Well, that is the challenge, isn't it?” he smirks. “Now I can see two options here. I can do the gentlemanly thing, turn my back and allow you to undress and then you may hand me your chemise once decent again. I will dry myself the best I can and return to the house to change.”

“And the second option?” you cannot resist querying.

“Ahh, that,” he seems to pull even closer, and the fingers slip over the neckline and onto the silk ruching that covers your breasts; even through the material layers, you can feel his fingers lingering over your nipple and the throbbing between your legs turns almost painful. “The second option is that I am not a gentleman. Not in the slightest,” his answer cryptic but dripping with a dark, forbidden promise.

“What does that involve…?” you pant.

You watch, enthralled, as his tongue pokes out of his mouth and licks his bottom lip, and in seeming slow-motion, his mouth begins to form a shape to speak words…

“ANTHONY!!”

The yell is from a few feet away, on the other side of the bushes. Both of you jump apart as if burned.

“ANTHONY?!” the male voice calls again, “ARE YOU AROUND?”

It's obvious the person has no idea you are merely a few feet away, only that they are looking for him.

Stay here, Anthony mouths silently, and you nod, your heart beating wildly at the whiplash of experiences.

With one rueful glance at you, at the interrupted moment, he turns around and fights through the mass of foliage back out to the lawn.

“Oh, there you are!” the voice exclaims. “We wondered what the devil had happened to you!!”

“Colin…” you hear him respond.

“Hell and the devil. Why are you soaked through?? Did you decide to go for a swim fully clothed? Did you find my special tea??” his voice ramping up in incredulity as he likely clocks Anthony's bedraggled appearance.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Anthony’s reply seems clipped. “I rescued a small beautiful creature, if you must know,” he obfuscates.

“Ahh, hero antics,” Colin laughs. “Well, you had better go change right away. Mother expects you to make a toast for our esteemed guests in a few minutes.”

You hear Anthony’s frustrated noise of derision and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand between deep breaths, trying to bring yourself back to a state of normality after the rollercoaster of experiences you just had.

“Urghhh, alright,” Anthony sighs, embattled, “I think I dropped my pocket watch back in the bushes. Give me one moment to find it, and I will accompany you back to the house.”

“Side entrance,” Colin responds dryly.

“Indeed,” you hear Anthony call.

You tense as the bushes before you start to rustle as he fights through them to reach you. He stalks up to you, and you gasp audibly.

“Shhh,” he warns quietly, his lips right at your ear, gusting hot, “it looks as if I must sadly depart. Your chemise is safe for today, Miss y/l/n.”

With a boldness you didn’t know yourself capable of, you grab the shirt's sleeves rolled up around his elbows.

“I would never want not to be helpful to you, my lord,” you whisper tremulant, fingers twisting in the soaked fabric. “If removing my chemise can ever be of assistance to you in future, please be sure to let me know.”

You cannot believe you allow yourself to say something so scandalous.

He pulls back slightly, and it's his turn to exhale unsteadily, his pupils dilated; his expression wild. You can see a vein hammering in his throat.

“Oh goddd,” he moans, closing his eyes as if pained.

“What?” concern suddenly flooding your tone.

His eyes reopen, and they pin you with their intensity.

“Mark my words,” his tone is low, gravelly, “if you continue to talk so brazenly, it will only encourage me.”

It is the sexiest warning bell you have ever heard.

“And if you continue to tease and defy me, I will pursue you. Relentlessly,” he growls, and once again, your body is rioting.

“Good god. How long does it take to find a pocket watch, man?” Colin calls impatiently, once again breaking the moment between you as it threatens to bubble over.

“I've found it!” Anthony twists to call over his shoulder. “I’ll be there presently!”

“Hurry up!” Colin grouses.

Anthony turns back, and his breath is hot over your cheek. He seems to stare at your lips for an inordinate amount of time as you stare back. Transfixed.

“Today, I shall be a gentleman,” he states reluctantly and draws away slightly. “However…” and your heart spikes in victory, “once that clock strikes midnight. I make no promises. And I shall be standing right here,” his tone decisive, his finger pointing to the spot right by his feet. “Just so you and your chemise will know where to find me,” he rumbles, then gives you a polite bow and is gone.

You have to grab onto a tree to stop yourself from swooning. Already knowing you will be stealing away from your room as the clock strikes midnight. Uncaring of consequences.

You want him to ruin you.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz

[notleclerc]

Too Hot

🤍Charles x Fem!Reader

🤍summary: in which the game „Too Hot“ challenges ones desires

🤍warning: getting a little steamy here but nothing to big

🤍a/n: I got inspired by @yuwuta with the JJK version and was like „ok slay lemme try it as well“ // English is not my first language so please have mercy on me🥺

In the heart of Monaco, where the streets echo with the roar of engines and the glitz of the Grand Prix, a different kind of heat simmers beneath the surface. It's not the scorching sun or the adrenaline of racing that sets hearts racing, but a playful game of Too Hot. And amidst the glamorous backdrop, you find yourself entangled in a steamy encounter with none other than Charles Leclerc.

Ever since Lando started to learn how to be a Dj, he‘s been throwing parties left and right, having only VVIP‘s in the club. Models, Actors, Athlete‘s - you name it. Obviously, that means the whole Grid is always welcome to join the fiesta. Charles, being the supportive friend he is, gets ready to dress up and waits for his girlfriend.

Y/n makes sure to wear a beautful red dress. God, that dress could make the devil go weak in his knees. Charles couldn‘t help but admire her.

„Tu es très belle, mon amour“ (you look beautiful my love)

he says, his voice tender with a soft look on his face.

You smile as you feel your cheeks getting warmer, giving yourself a natural blush. You give him a peck on his chin, as you are smaller even in heels.

„Merci Cha“ (thank you)

The two of you leave his appartement and go straight to his oh-so-famous Ferrari, the one that puts everyone in awe of its beauty (or the beauty driving it). The ride was smooth and no words were exchanged as the two of them enjoyed the calm and warmth.

It didn‘t take them long to reach the club, the music already indicating that Charles and Y/n were fashionably late. Charles hands his keys to a valet since he can‘t, for the love of god, park the car right. You tease him about it way too often.

„Et ils disent que les femmes ne peuvent pas se garer“ (and they say women can‘t park)

you say teasingly.

Charles chuckles and places his hand on your waist, guiding you towards the entrance. He made sure to get down to your ear and whispered softly

„Surveille ta bouche ou je le ferai pour toi, bébé“ (watch your mouth or i‘ll do it for you babe)

As you both enter, one with a smirk and the other with flushed cheeks, Lando greets the two of you with a wave from the DJ booth and makes sure to let you both know where the others are.

The party can begin.

As the night unfolds and the party reaches its peak, you catch sight of Charles across the room, his charismatic smile drawing you in like a magnet. You were dancing with the girlfriends of the drivers and having the time of your life. Your pulse quickens as Charles suddendly approaches, his confident stride sending a thrill down your spine.

"Hey there," he greets you with a charming grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Fancy a game of Too Hot?"

You're taken aback by the invitation, but the thrill of the challenge beckons you. "Sure, why not?" you reply, unable to resist the allure of his playful proposal. The two of you love challenges no matter what the situation is.

The rules are simple: two people kiss while keeping their hands to themselves, and the first to touch their partner loses. With a shared glance and a silent agreement, you both dive into the game, the tension between you palpable.

As your lips meet in a teasingly tender kiss, the world around you fades into obscurity, leaving only the electrifying connection between you and Charles. His touch is intoxicating, igniting a fire within you that blazes with each passing moment.

"Tu es un sacré compétiteur“ (You're quite the competitor)

Charles murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

„Mais je n'y vais pas de main morte avec toi, ma petite fleur“ (But I won't go easy on you, my little flower)

he adds playfully.

You respond with a playful challenge of your own, reveling in the thrill of the chase as you dance on the edge of temptation. Each kiss becomes a daring game of brinkmanship, testing the limits of self-control.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in the heated exchange, the boundaries between reality and desire blurring into a tantalizing haze. The world outside ceases to exist as you and Charles become locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to concede defeat.

But as the game reaches its climax, a surge of longing courses through you, threatening to overwhelm your resolve. With a breathless gasp, you instinctively reach out, your hand brushing against Charles's cheek in a moment of unguarded passion.

"Je gagne“ (I win)

he whispers triumphantly, a smug grin playing on his lips as he leans in to claim victory with a searing kiss.

„Je te laisse gagner parce que c'est la seule fois où tu le fais“ (I let you win because that‘s the only time you do)

You teased him again and couldn‘t help but laugh, seeing his baffled face. He puts his hand on your cheeks and squeezes them together. He looks down at me and shakes his head softly with a certain intensity to his eyes.

„Tu veux vraiment jouer à la cochonne avec moi ? Tu sais ce que les sales gosses obtiennent de mon amour.“ (you really want to play dirty with me? You know what brats get my love)

He caresses your cheek with his thumb as he tilted his head.

Ne m'oblige pas à te faire ça, ma belle. (Don‘t make me do it to you sweetcheeks)

He goes back to squeeze your cheeks together and pulls you closer to him with a warning look in his ocean eyes. As the night draws to a close and the party fades into memory, you carry with you the lingering warmth of Charles's touch, a tantalizing reminder of a fiery encounter that ignited sparks in the heart of Monaco.

As for what happens after the party? Only the two of them and maybe the neighbour will know ;).

Now that escalted quickly👀 HAVE MERCY ON ME!! I don‘t know how to write intimate moments aka the humpy dumpty so please take this as a chance to let your mind run freely 🥹

Reblog, comments and likes are aprreciated

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

​GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

[the-faceless-bride]

@xxshadowbabexx has inspired me! With this fic, I've decided to take it to the extreme. Because I love extreme and insane readers, it's my favorite. So this is gonna have a big warning for mean cheater 141 (most of them) and dark yandere like reader that will hurt people.

Warnings: AN ACTUAL INSANE READER! READER IS A YANDERE! FULL ON UNHEALTHY AND DANGEROUS YANDERE PERSON! A VERY BAD INDIVIDUAL! Cheating, gaslighting, making your partner listen/watch you have sex with someone else, blood, needles, violence, kidnapping?, blackmail, stalking, forcing to take medications implications of Murder, implications of necrophilia, manipulation, dubcon-Noncon affection, kissing, reader putting marks on themselves, hugging, im serious if you are sensitive to dark content then don't read this. There's a lot of uproar about dark content and im telling you please don't read it if you don't like it. Both The guy and reader are NOT good people. reader is insane. You've been warned.

Also, I wrote this while listening to Emotion repeatedly as I thought it was fitting in a psychotic way.

Characters (in order) - Soap, Konig, Ghost, Gaz, Price, Alejandro (no Graves or Roach, sadly I don't know enough about roach to write for him and I must inform you I am not a Graves Girlie. Maybe if you have some good Graves fic I can get into him but as of now Graves just doesn't do it for me, sorry.)

Whether you like it or not.

Soap - you were seeing signs everywhere. lipstick stains, perfume that wasn't yours, hickeys you didn't remember giving him. You were certain he was cheating, but with whom? You tried poking at him now and again but he would always say the same thing, "I don't know what you're talking about Bonnie.- Bonnie don't be so paranoid this cock is all yours. I promise.- Bonnie I don't know when you became a crazy jealous person but it hurts me you think I would do that."

All lies. You knew they were. You just never got any proof. At some point, you thought you were going crazy. but that was until you came home early one day after staying a night at your brother's new house. Johnny was home but there was another car... Your best friend. Johnny had her bent over as he sucked on her neck. You watched for a moment before hiding behind the wall, you had come just in time for them to finish and start re-dressing, you let the rage fester and infect you, feeling the anger and sorrow of the betrayal of not only the love of your life but your trusted friend.

When they both emerge from the bedroom and your friend locks eyes with you and her lips start trembling the rage finally boils over. Meanwhile, Johnny made his way to you. "Bonnie it's not what it-"

You shoved him from you storming your way to your once friend grabbing her by her hair and screaming in her face, you can barely remember what you said. You were in such a rage you had let spurs of names, insults, and threats all one after the other. Only stopping when you felt a strong hand pull you away. "Bonnie stop you're scaring her! It's not what you think!" you yank your arm from his grasp, "you're defending her?! You son of a bitch! You get her the fuck out of my house before I rip her fucking hair out!" you threaten and she scrambles out between the two of you. You follow her to the door, never reaching out to grab her but you yell at her the whole way out to her car, when she drives off you make your way back into the house to deal with Johnny.

"How dare you. HOW DARE YOU! YOU MADE ME FEEL LIKE I WAS CRAZY!-"

"YOU ARE FUCKING CRAZY BONNIE!- you're acting crazy right now!"

"CRAZY?! You were cheating on me! WITH MY FRIEND! I saw you!"

" You don't even know what you saw."

He begins to turn away from you... He thinks he can fuck you the night before. Tell you he loves you. FUCK. Your best friend. Then tell you you're crazy. AND GO BACK TO RELAX IN YOUR BEDROOM?!?!

You let out a cry of anger, betrayal, and disbelief as you pick up the big decorative clay vase before giving it a big swing and smashing it to pieces over his head.

Johnny slowly turned around "Bonnie..." blood trailed down the side of his head, trying to take a step towards you but lost his footing, sliding down the wall and slumping to the floor.

------

Johnny woke up, his head pounding and his body chained to the cold hard ground. His head was wrapped and disinfected. He tried to get up but he was stuck. The chains were thick, whoever did this knew normal cuffs wouldn't hold him.

"Hey, baby." Johnny looked to his side, you sat at the top of the stairs to your basement. "Bonnie- wha- what happened? ... What did you do?"

You smiled and walked down the stairs before standing in front of him. "Johnny. You know I love you.", he stares at you. Maybe he'd pushed you too far.

"Bonnie. I- im sorry, let's jus talk bout this and we can-" he tried to reason with you, maybe if he could talk to you he could talk you down. Reverse a little bit of the damage he'd done.

"oh no, Johnny. I thought you liked my friend. So I thought I could give you one last hurrah! Before you don't get to see anyone again!"

You started walking up the stairs and Johnny began to slightly panic, "c'mon bonnie, I am sorry. Plus! You can't keep me here, the team would come looking for me!" he tried to reason.

"no! You are off due to injury remember? You are here for a good three years! And if it takes longer than you to break... Well, im sure I can give a convincing enough lie that you never made it home. Send them on a while chase looking for you!" you called from the top of the stairs, before grunting, and a large thud was heard as it banged on each step down the stairs.

Oh God. It was her.

It was her. Your friend. Her eyes were glassy and drained. Skin pale and bruised. Bloodied. Dead.

"well, Johnny. Have the last bit of your fun."

"wha- what..."

"do it. You don't want to feel what she did do you?."

"What?"

"you don't want me to have to hurt you, Johnny. Don't you?" you threatened. And Johnny knew he didn't have a choice.

He took hold of her cold body, these three years would be hell for him... He prayed that he wouldn't break...

Konig - you couldn't believe him. You'd caught him in the middle of undressing another woman. She screamed when she saw you in the doorway which prompted Konig to turn around in horror as he made eye contact, he stood up and tried talking to you as the woman rushed out the door sloppily dressing herself.

The excuse he gave you made your eye twitch and your fingers itch to wrap around his neck and squeeze. The only thing stopping you was his size. You knew that if you tried he'd have you on the ground in a matter of seconds. "I just wanted to prove to myself I was good for you!" you took a long look into his eyes. Before laughing. You laughed at him. And you laugh good and hard for thirty seconds, of non-stop hysterical laughter. And every time you looked back at him and saw his hurt expression it made you laugh even harder.

After your laughing fit you went eerily calm, before telling him in a straight face, it's ok. I forgive you.

-------

But Konig quickly got the idea that it wasn't true. One night when he came home from a mission, he heard strange noises coming from your bedroom. Konig tried to tell himself it wasn't what he thought. Maybe you were taking care of yourself? Maybe you were watching a video, or maybe... But Konig couldn't deny it for long as he heard the sound of a man grunting and you saying his name, Konig made his way to the room and there you were.

You were on your back the man was hunched over you his face in between your neck and shoulder, you Could see Konig standing behind the Man as the man continued to push his cock in and out of you, unaware of the danger he was in. You moaned louder to taunt the large dangerous man standing behind your lover for the night. "yes! Oh fuck! That's it~" Your moans were fake. Konig knew the difference as he'd heard your real moans many many times. "oh baby~ you're so much better than him! You know how to please with that cock~" you tried not to cringe at your fake words; this guy had no rhythm, no drive to please, and his cock didn't even brush against the spots Konig's cock bullied inside you. But you didn't care. You just wanted to hurt Konig. To bruise his heart and his ego. And it worked.

Konig grabbed the man by the hair and pulled him off and out of you, the man screamed in shock but you remained silent. Watching with a spiteful grin, Konig was just gonna toss the guy out. But then he noticed something... He wasn't wearing a condom... This random man had fucked you raw and came inside you... Dead. This man was dead. Konig didn't stop slamming his fist into the man, his jaw, his head, his neck, his ribs. Anywhere Konig could reach.

The man lay still on the cold floor. Barley breathing. He had some time before he succumbed to his injuries but Konig wasn't in a rush to help the man who fucked his love.

"how could you do this? Why would you hurt me in this way!? You- you-"

"I just wanted to be good enough." you said bluntly

"What...?"

"I just wanted to prove to myself I was good enough for you... That's just what you wanted too... Right, Konig?"

Ghost - he did it again. Lied again. Fucked someone else in your bed again. Again. And again. And again. You didn't get it. Had you not been perfect? Had you not helped him through night terrors? Through panic attacks? Through tearful nights when he had a particular dream about his family life? You were tired of it. Coming home and hearing moans that weren't yours. Finding used condoms that you know he didn't use with you. Clothes that weren't even close to your size were found under the bed or stuffed somewhere in his car. You hated it. You hated him. But God... You loved him. You knew he wasn't good for you, but you wanted to love him and he loved you in return.

He was out again, with his team... You hid in a seat in the far back of the pub. So out of sight Ghost still hasn't noticed you. But you noticed him, chatting up with a pretty blonde at the from of the bar. You hated her. You didn't even know her. But she had something that you didn't. You don't know what it is, but it must be something good. If Simon was out looking for it from her instead of you.

She giggled and batted her lashes at him, you don't take your eyes off them the whole time. You told Simon you'd be gone for the weekend. So when you noticed they were about to leave, you rushed to your car speeding to your house. Parking somewhere Simon wouldn't see, rushing inside and lit some candles, and pulled out some wine. And fix your hair to make it look like you had a romantic evening planned.

------

When Simon walked in he was sloppily making out with the woman his hands running up and down her curves.

"Simon?" you asked quietly playing dumb. As if you hadn't been watching him, you'd been watching him for a few months now. Just out of sight. Plotting how you could go about your revenge. Ghost would be hard to break. He's emotionally dead and doesn't let much get to him. But everyone has a breaking point.

Everyone.

This caught Simon off guard. You weren't meant to be home. This caused a reaction from the woman he brought home, apologizing to you over and over begging forgiveness as she didn't know. Then turning to Simon and giving an earful of disgust at what he had done and was going to do with her all while having a loving and caring lover at home.

You played it up by crying, just like you'd done the first twenty times he'd done this before. This time it was fake, asking what you had done to drive him away. Making the woman chastise him further. Before shaping him and walking out.

After she left you stopped crying, which also caught Simon off guard. Normally you would go one of two ways when catching him in a lie or with lipstick stains on his shirt. You blame yourself and Simon reassures you that you are overthinking and not thinking straight (a lie) or you blame him and he says it hurts him that you a person he trusts let down his walls for (lie) and would accuse him of things he would never do (another lie)

But this time you did.

"You're just like your father." **SLAM**

Simon had instantly slammed you into the wall, his hand around your throat.

"don't. Don't you EVER say that again. I'm nothing like him. I protect and serve. Nothing like him." he looks at you with a hatred you'd never seen before, it made you smile on the inside.

"oh- really? You hurt me." You choke and Simon tightens his grip, warning you.

"you lie to me. You cheat on me. You tell me you love me and don't mean it-" **squeeze**

"you hurt me. Just like he hurt your mother-"

"SHUT UP." He slams you again,

"You're hurting me right now. Just like him." Simon takes a moment before dropping his hand from you as if you'd just burned him.

He stumbles away from you. But you follow, "It's ok Simon. I promise to forgive you. If you promise not to hurt me again."

You were fucking with him. You sounded like his mother, promising to not leave or tell as long as he promised to stop hurting you. Just like his mother pleaded with his father. So so many times.

You smile at him. He rushes away reaching for the door and opening it a crack, "Simon. Don't go. Don't hurt me. Not again. Be good. Promise me."

Simon's head was spinning, trauma and pain in the front of his mind.

"promise me, Simon."

Simon shut the door.

"I promise," he whispered.

Gaz - you didn't want to believe it. He was different. You knew he was! He was the one who made this place a beautiful world. He wouldn't. He couldn't! Your heart wouldn't be able to take it. But your world came crashing down on you, you had found panties that weren't yours and you had begun to panic, no. No, he wouldn't. This is a misunderstanding. You're gonna call him. He's gonna answer and be with his mates and clear all this confusion up. Yeah... Yeah, that was it!

You called Kyle and after three rings he answered, that's a good sign! And you were relieved. But that was quickly taken from you. A woman moaned into the phone as Kyle praised her in the back, "That's a good girl, let her hear you. She her your mine baby." your mind turned to static only a few words and phrases were heard,

"mine... Good girl... My girl. .. Perfect... Sweet... Pussy made for me..." your heart racing, pounding in your ears. It cries. It aches... How can this be fair? You stayed on the phone, on speaker as you hurried around the house. You had to fix this. Who was she? How dare she try and take your place.

You were made for Kyle. Not her. He said it to you so many times. He had to be lying to her. She- she must have forced him. That's it! That's the only thing that makes sense. Why would he cheat and answer the phone while doing so? That doesn't make sense! It was her you know it.

It hurts now. Knowing your darling was being taken advantage of. Don't worry Kyle darling. She'll learn to keep her damn hands off...

-------

Kyle came home around 11:50 PM, she truly kept him locked away. Your poor baby. Forced to do such disgusting things to her.

"Lovie? Are you in? I- I don't know what came over me I-" he gets interrupted. You're hugging him. Kyle stands still. Confused. He thought he was gonna have to convince you he was trashed, filled with alcohol, and didn't know what he was doing... But you're... Hugging him? "it's ok Kyle. I know it wasn't you. I know." Kyle for a moment, thinks things he's maybe gotten away with it. "don't worry, I won't let it happen again."

What?

Kyle jumps feeling a pin in his neck, he jolts shoving you to the ground causing you to hit your cheek hard on the floor, you whine as you sit up holding your hand to your cheek. You forgive him, you expected him to fight. That's why you didn't tell him your plan to keep him safe in the first place.

Kyle reaches behind him, pulling out the syringe that stuck out from his neck. His eyes quickly become blurry and his body slow and off-balanced. He tries to say your name but he can't his tongue is heavy and his throat is tight.

He falls to the floor with you.

When Kyle comes too; his head is pounding, his throat is dry, and his right cheek hurts. He tries to get up but he can't. He's strapped down to the bed. Kyle starts to panic, what happened last night? Where-

"good morning darling." Kyle whips his head to you, causing it to pound loudly in his ears. "what- what happened, where?-" You smile and sign as you set a tray of water and medications on the bedside table. "you're at home with me darling." you turn to him placing a damp cloth on his head. "why am I strapped to the bed?"

"well I couldn't trust you would stay put, would I?"

Huh?

"oh! Also, I made sure you won't ever be bothered again!"

"bothered?"

"yup! That woman from last night she won't hurt you anymore!" Kyle stared at you confused, she didn't do anything. He approached her and went back to her place, telling her that you were a crazy ex and that's why she agreed to let him answer.

"but- she didn't do anything." you frown at him, "She must have messed your brain up bad. It's ok! I'm gonna help and fix you!" you say as you reach for the tray.

A syringe and glass bottle at one end of the tray next to some pills as well as a bottle of water. He stared with wide eyes, "don't worry the pills are just to help with the pain from hitting your head."

"and the needle..."

"just for safety, I don't want to use it but I can't have you straining yourself and leaving ugly wounds on your precious skin my love."

Kyle tried to remain calm, he didn't know how much of your words he could trust. You held the pill out to him waiting for him to open his mouth but he didn't... You sigh, you didn't want to have to do this. You pick up the needle dipping the end into the glass bottle, filling it with liquid.

Kyle began to struggle and you held him down trying to keep steady while injecting the clear liquid into his arm. Kyle felt his body weaken, not in a sleepy way but his body started to not respond right away. You opened his mouth and shoved the pill inside, your eyes getting teary. why was he making this so difficult?

After giving him some water after a struggle and him trying to spit the pill out, he finally gave in. He'd try and reason with you later, right now his head hurt and he was tired.

You climbed over him. Kissing his cheek and snuggling him, he'd see you love him. You're hear to help him. Protect him.

He'll come around. You know it.

Price - You'd been running around all day preparing for Price to come home, you'd been waiting for so so long to get your hands on him again. He's been gone for eight months, you were sure he'd be aching for you. Just as much as you were for him.

But when he came home he was... Off. He wouldn't tell you what, "later" he'd tell you over and over "later" you thought maybe something happened on the field. But all his mates were alive you know that. So what went wrong?

It's not until a month later that he breaks the news. "Darling. I'm so sorry, but- I just- a lady at the Bar..." and then everything went silent to you. Price... Your husband. Your John... Jonathan Price had cheated on you.

You hug him, mid-sentence. He starts crying, begging you for forgiveness. Crying to get you to stay. Crying to be given one last chance. And you give it...

"I'll stay. I love you. I need you. I will give you one last chance-"

"thank you- thank you, Darling, I- I promise-"

"but. I get to give you the same pain."

"w-what?"

"im going to have sex with someone. But you won't know when. Where. Or who."

"D-Darling,"

"it might be a stranger from a Bar. It might be one of your mates... You won't know, and I won't tell you. You'll have to figure it out."

----------

It's been months now, and John has been paranoid. You go out of your way to stay late after work hours, to go out with your friends and not come home till late in the night, you hide your phone, and you grab yourself harshly to leave bruises.

John questions you about everything. Why did you stay late? Who was with your friends, and who did you meet? Why are you hiding your phone, who are you texting?... Where are the marks coming from?... He's attached to you any time he can be, and never leaves your side. And goes out of his way to please you.

Showing you that he will make up for his flaws, his mistakes. Showing you, that you don't need anyone else. Showing you he's sorry.

You never slept with anyone, you contemplated it. But you couldn't. You loved him too much. But he didn't need to know that, he's never been more attached to you than he was now. He even put work aside.

Maybe if you keep him on his toes, he'll become dependent on you. You know you can do it. Make him crave you and need you as much as you do him. It's just gonna take time, lying, and patience. You'd break him. You know you can. Nobody in the military could break this captain. Nobody. But...

They didn't know Johnathan Price like you did.

Alejandro - Alejandro was out at a bar, he had just gotten back from a mission. A long, tedious, and dangerous mission. You wanted to surprise him! You'd missed him so much, that you planned to 'Coincidentally' run into him at the bar. you knew when he came home, what time, and with whom. You had a few trackers and bugs planted on him, namely his phone and the bracelets he got back on his way home.

It was the way you got to know him so well in the first place, you were a friend and a trusted one at that. You knew if you planted a bug or two he wouldn't suspect a thing.

Now and again you would do this he would mention or mumble about in his own time, it would amaze him how you had done what he asked, "just a hunch" you would tell him. You didn't do it all the time to not make him suspicious but you did it when you knew he needed it. Which made him fall you you that much more.

You had dolled yourself up just a bit and made your way to the bar he was at with Rudy and you quickly became on edge.

"im flattered, ha," Alejandro laughed as the busty brunette pushed herself into his personal space, she brushed her nails against his arm. You feel an itch, an itch deep inside as your face turns red.

Why? You thought he was different, and yet here he was. You were ready to return to your car and wait for him... But then you saw him push her away.

"get off. I'm not interested, I already told you I'm in a loving relationship, now leave me alone." he put his foot down. And she pouted and huffed before walking away. You smiled and ran over to him, putting your plan back into play.

---------

You laid in bed, skin-to-skin. Still a little sweaty from the rough session you and Ale had. You kiss him, "im gonna clean up," he hums in response. He's drifting off to sleep and you smile at how comfortable he is with you.

You turn the water on, letting it run warm before stepping in.

You let the hot water run down your body as you wash your hair, you think about earlier. Your heart flutters.

You were so thankful, thankful he rejected her. He honestly scared you for a moment.

You thought about what you would've done, you were silly. You then thought about the bag of rusted sharp tools that sat in the trunk of your car. You were so silly to think you were gonna have to get ugly with Him.

[gingerlee-holds]

I feel bad for popping a request in ☠ anyway

If you're feeling up to it, perhaps ler Todoroki x lee Reader (bc me and reader insert are inseparable /j) from MHA? Length, perhaps 900+ words if possible? But I'll be grateful for anything haha, I also don't want to force you to write more if you're not feeling inspired i'm gonna be honest here I haven't watched MHA in a long time ☠ and I have no idea what scenarios would be realistic because he's,, Todoroki,,

Personally i'm a sucker for evil/more intense tickles because I wish I was ticklish but if that makes you uncomfy do feel free to ignore :)

oh hush, you!!! i love requests, so thank you so so much!! i just hope this is somewhat what you wanted heehee- enjoy!!! i have a huge crush on this dork so that creeps in- also the reader's quirk is whatever you want it to be, cuz its not mentioned- also also!! im really really sorry if i fuck the names up cuz from what i know of the show, Todoroki is the family name, so Shoto is the given name but i could be totally wrong

i just wanna say that i really really like writing the rambly bits from Shoto about the book-

the reader is sorta a brat lol

Like Poetry

Words: 2,334 Pairing: Ler!Shoto, Lee!Reader Warnings: lotta fluff!!! not proofread!!!

You groaned as you entered the common room. Mr. Aizawa’s personal training was brutal today, and you were not looking forward to feeling how sore your muscles would be tomorrow morning. Sighing, you grabbed one of Sato’s cupcakes from the counter and flopped onto the sofa, confident it would be unoccupied. It was about seven in the evening on a Friday, which meant everyone was either in their rooms or somewhere around town. 

You huffed into the mattress before gasping at the sound of a page being turned. Looking up, you saw you were about a foot away from, in your mind, the strongest student in your class. He was sitting with perfect posture, reading a book with yellowed pages. On the coffee table sat a mug filled with tea.

Shoto Todoroki didn’t look up from his book at you. If he knew you were there, he didn’t show it. He silently read, seemingly fully absorbed. You sat upright, shaking off the embarrassment of almost landing on him, of all people. 

You cleared your throat and gobbled up your cupcake in one bite, setting the wrapper down next to his tea. Still, he didn’t move. Raising an eyebrow, you poked him in the side to get his attention, and the surprised gasp he gave made you giggle. Shoto looked at you, brow furrowed in annoyance, but his face soon softened when you smiled and waved.

“Hi!” you said chipperly. 

He nodded politely in return. “Hello, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

With a chuckle, you shoved his shoulder. “No worries! Whatcha reading, bookworm?”

Shoto tilted his head. “I’m not a worm.”

You sighed and repeated your question without the tease. You loved that your classmate was so adorably literal. 

“I’m reading this book of old poetry. I don’t remember where I got it - it feels like my family’s always had it lying around. I decided to read it today since everyone’s out.” His voice was calm as he spoke.

You were somewhat interested in the subject but mostly just wanted to hear him talk some more. It was so rare that he spoke. “Anything good in there?”

“I found this one that I liked,” Shoto said before flipping back a few pages. “Rain on lemongrass. / Ash trees weep o’er their lost sun: / Their light and love, gone.”

The poem made you hum in thought. “What’s it about?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked. Taken on its face, it was an insulting question, but you knew Shoto was genuinely unsure whether to explain it. You shook your head in reply. “The poem is about heartbreak. A woman falls in love with someone, and suddenly, that person has to leave. The woman feels like she has nothing left as she cries into a world that has bigger concerns than her. Soon, perhaps, her love shall return, the sun re-emerging from the clouds, but there’s also the possibility that she doesn’t last until then, and the wind blows her over. Ash trees symbolize grief, so perhaps they may never meet again. The lemongrass, evoking a cheerful memory, is smothered under the rains that hide her beloved.” Suddenly, he looked up from the page. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was rambling.”

You scratched your head. “How did you get all that from just three lines?” You didn’t mind, of course. He was cute when he rambled. To your great surprise, he let out a soft and sheepish smile. 

“Well, I suppose I have too much time on my hands,” he said, looking away. You smirked and poked his side again, giggling at his surprised reaction. Shoto let out a muffled yelp and jumped, glaring at you suspiciously and rubbing his side. “Quit that.” 

“Sorry, Icy-hot! Can’t be helped!” You held up both your hands in mock surrender.

“Hm,” Shoto mumbled, looking back to the book. “This book was written entirely by hand. See? This character is slightly different here, here, and here,” he continued, pointing at different parts of the page. “And from what I can tell, its publication predates quirks, hence why they are not mentioned. If they had quirks, you would think there’d be a suggestion of their existence, no? Yet there’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seems like this book is a remnant of a simpler world.” His expression looked distant as if his mind were a hundred miles and years away. 

You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “Sounds dorky. Maybe you should tell Deku! I’m sure he’d be all too interested,” you chuckled, then looked over. If he heard your comment, he gave no sign. He must still be lost in thought. Looking down at his side, you saw it was perfectly exposed. You were pushing your luck. Then again, what is a hero if not someone who tries their luck? You pursed your lips together and quickly extended your hand to poke Shoto’s side again. 

But he was faster. As if expecting your reckless act, he set his book down and grabbed your hand before it made contact in one fluid movement. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“I do my utmost to avoid doing that, yes,” you said, giggling nervously. His grip was firm, giving you no delusions of escape. His hand was chilly, as if Shoto was threatening to encase your whole arm in ice at any moment. You tugged slightly.

He didn’t let go. “No, you need to learn this lesson.” Somehow, that was among the scariest things you’ve ever heard, right alongside the speech of the hero killer and Mr. Aizawa announcing an extra homework assignment before the summer break. Shoto pushed your legs toward the end of the couch, pinning you to his chest with both hands held behind you. You shuddered as Shoto said, “Now, learn well.”

Since both your hands were stuck behind you against his torso, you couldn’t defend yourself whatsoever when he descended both hands onto your stomach. You erupted into bright, bubbly laughter and kicked your feet like that would do anything to help. All that went through your head was repeated, ‘Oh, fuck, that tickles!’ 

You heard Shoto’s hum of approval from behind you as he clawed his fingers over the thin fabric of your shirt. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. 

“ShIhihihihIt! ShohOhOHohotoHoHoho!” You shook your head and thrashed all you could, but it didn’t matter. Shoto was stronger, and he would make sure you knew it. 

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked casually.

“STohohoHOAhaap!!” It didn’t have a chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“No.” Shoto’s clawed hands squeezed around your stomach in circles, taking a moment to dwell on your extra-ticklish lower stomach, which he took delight in exploiting. If you didn’t know any better, you would even say he enjoyed it as much as you were. 

“NohOHoHOhoHT TheheHEherre!” you pleaded helplessly, throwing your head back to give your torturer the best puppy eyes you could… although they were far less effective than you had hoped since they were quickly squeezed shut in uproarious laughter. 

“Here? Right here, yes?” Shoto released a flurry of pokes on your lower stomach as if he wanted confirmation.

You nodded and hiccupped, doing all you could to contain the blush that bloomed on your face at the sound of his cooing hum. Mercifully, he gave you a break, and you panted for breath against him. “Shihihitt…” you giggled, squirming in his grasp to get the ghost tickles off your tummy. 

“Here,” Shoto said, and you turned to see he was holding up his mug for you. Gratefully, you took a big sip of the refreshing tea, smiling a little at the warmth of it. It was strangely sweet; you had expected Shoto to only like the bitter teas, but surprisingly, the flavor was somewhat sugary. As if reading your mind, Shoto said, “It’s chamomile. It helps me relax.” He took the mug from your mouth and set it back on the table. 

Shoto cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Is my release dependent on how I answer that?”

“Yes.”

“Then… Never!” You madly giggled as you attempted to escape his grasp before quickly regretting it. He had you suitably pinned, and to further reinforce his lesson, you realized with terror that he was rolling up your shirt to your ribs. “Wait, Shoto-!”

Your tormentor didn’t give you time to finish. Without fanfare, his hands descended onto your exposed tummy. Instead of clawing around, as he had done before, he was using quick scribbles, which, coupled with his cold fingers on your bare skin, was maddening. 

“SHohOhoHOTO!” You had no idea you were so ticklish! By the looks of things, it seemed like he had been in tickle fights before, and from how badly he was wrecking you, he was used to winning them. 

He hummed in thought as your thrashing weakened. “Your belly button is incredibly ticklish,” he observed. It was, to your dismay, very accurate. It didn’t help that his cold finger was heightening the feeling!

“PLehEHehEHHEase! MeheHEheheercyy!” you squealed out, kicking and bucking like a horse.

“Goodness, you’re dramatic. It’s only tickling, Y/N. If anything, this should build your endurance. What if the League captured you? I doubt you’d last a minute before you spill everything you know if they knew this weakness of yours.”

Why did he have to be so monotone with his teasing? He sounded so casual as if he were still explaining the history of that old book - only he was speaking over your hysterical cackling. He was a fast learner, too: he was pretty adept at locating the spots that got an especially wild reaction out of you and cruel in punishing them.

Shoto’s fingers increased in pace while always keeping one wiggling about in your navel. “I know,” he said, “I get it; you’re very, very ticklish. Now calm down.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He was having fun! “I wonder… you’ve inspired me to write my own poetry! Let’s see…” He paused to think, unfortunately not slowing down the tickles, making you yelp and shriek. “Ticklish cutie / Squealing on the couch with glee / With a cute tummy,” he slowly said as if writing it down. With a gasp, you felt him do just that, writing down the poem on your belly with the tip of his fingernail. 

You turned beet-red as you threw your head back, your laughter turning silent. You had long since begun crying with delight, and tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers, but he didn’t stop until you started coughing. With a chuckle, he released you, and you panted for breath. You didn’t move from his lap, and Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, tilting it toward him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. You nodded with a smile, which he returned. His smile was inviting, like a sunbeam on a winter’s day. He slowly helped you sit back up and handed you his mug again. You eagerly gulped it down. The tea was warm and sweet, and when you finished it and set it back on the table, you realized that Shoto wasn’t too different. 

“Thank you, Shoto,” you said softly.

“For the tea?”

“Yes,” you replied, “and… for the tickles. It… helped me unwind.” You looked away and rubbed your neck shyly. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N. It was fun for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” He smiled again, a small treat like candy. “It’s nice to see you so carefree. You’re usually a ball of nerves,” Shoto admitted bluntly, making you sigh and nod in agreement. 

You basked in the silence for a bit before both of you suddenly looked up. That was the unmistakable sound of… And right on cue, the word ‘mumble’ began to figuratively float across your field of view. At its origin, you and Shoto saw Izuku madly scribbling in his notebook and mumbling about something. You swore you caught the words “ticklish,” “stomach,” and “squeals.” 

Behind Izuku, standing in the hallway, were Ochaco, Denki, Tsuyu, Mina, Eijiro, and Kyoka. The first two desperately attempted to quiet Izuku, to no avail. You sat bolt upright, glaring at the unwelcome audience. 

Eijiro broke the silence with a playful swat to the back of Izuku’s head. “You got us caught with your nerd shit, Deku,” he joked, making the green-haired hero look away backfully. 

“That was adorable!” Mina grinned, pointing at you. “You made a bunch of noise, so we wanted to check it out!” 

“You’d better erase what you wrote, Deku.” You spoke calmly but in a way that gave no misapprehensions about your seriousness. 

Ochaco looked over Izuku’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna do that.”

“Midoriya,” Shoto spoke up. “Be sure to write that they couldn’t use their quirk while being tickled.”

You gasped at the betrayal. “Don’t you fucking dare write that, Deku!”

With a glance, Denki, Kyoka, and Tsuyu replied simultaneously, “Oh, he’s already writing it.”

With a growl, you shot from the couch. “You’re fucking dead, Deku!” Your classmates yelped with shock and ran down the hall from you, stifling their giggles. 

Eijiro, egging you on, tossed back over his shoulder a snide, “Now you’re sounding like Katsuki!”

“Oh, I’ll make Katsuki look like a fucking bag of pop rocks when I’m done with you idiots!” Your threat carried no heat since it was filled with giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, smiling fondly at how much you loved your friends.

And behind you, on the couch, Shoto grinned with pride as he picked up his book to continue reading. He was glad he had been allowed to be so affectionate with someone for a chance. Absent-mindedly, he picked up his mug of tea for a sip but sighed disappointingly at the lack of tea inside. Maybe he needed bigger mugs.